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turbo-tsundere · 2 months ago

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i may have sent an ask like this before? i dont remember if i did and i apologize if i did, but i absolutely adore your concept drawings for that gonta survival horror game. i would absolutely love to hear more about it ^^ i hope you’re doing well also!

Ah, no, I haven't gotten anything like that before, unless yours was that invisible ask, that lingers in my inbox as an unremovable number. But either way, please don't apologize - it's really sweet that someone could be interested in reading about stuff like that.

Regarding the game concept: it started as a daydream to process my post-V3 blues. Bunch of ideas that weren't exactly polished with a serious gamedev effort in mind, though maybe I'll introduce it proper via concept sketches, in the undetermined future.

I can summarize it via text, even though I worry if it will be interesting in that form - visuals matter, after all - but I'll try.

Bullet point form, for, um, easier reading. Be warned, it's... it's about 7,2k words. (And apologies for no "read more" - somehow it was hiding post from the tags...)

[GENERAL INTRO] (for context: the ask is about one of those sketches)

The rough title is "Danganronpa Another Universe: Giga Despair Triad", or GDT for short.

First, I'd like to clarify that while I said it's a "survival horror" game, in reality it's the prologue and later random scenes that fall cleanly into the "survival" sub-category.

As a whole I imagine it to be more of an *action* horror game, mixing fight and investigation mechanics, with some light environmental puzzles here and there. We're helpless at the start, and later on the horror is mostly existential and psychological. Though, of course, there are (mono)monsters and general horror aesthetics involved, as the world is going through an apocalyptic event.

It's not all angst and suffering, either. There are silly moments, as a nod to typical DR wackiness + my own morbid sense of humour.

It's meant to be both V3 as well as UDG sequel (very original, I know xD). And it's an indulgent thing, with references to other games or manga that I love (similarly how V3 did it with it's own homages), and my top faves freely put together, specifically Gonta and Tokomaru, so I can go wild with all of the psychological and interpersonal dynamics that could be explored between those three. Really dig into Gonta's brain especially, and dissect the behavioral and emotional bulIshit that plagues him, in a way that may deconstruct and challenge his character. At least... That's my main intention.

It's a result of wondering how to - in a way that's plausible within the lore of the DR universe - bring back Gonta and certain other characters... but at a hefty price.

[HOW IT STARTS]

At the very beginning Gonta startles awake to a flash of light. With his last memory being the stabbing, flames, sounds of buzzing, and a searing agony, he's shocked and disoriented, but soon realizes he's alone in a dimly lit room, lying in a pod of sorts, and he... seems alive and completely uninjured?

Despite the confusion, he stumbles out of this "infirmary" onto a ruined corridor. Water dripping from nearby broken pipes helps to quench his thirst, and to his relief, he finds fireflies there! The place where they concentrate would be your first save point - and with the help of their bioluminescence, Gonta is now able to explore and investigate the dilapidated facility he's stuck in. Judging from a glance into a narrow crack in the ceiling, and seeing the sunlight pouring down from many floors above, it looks to be rather deep underground. And while the place seems long abandoned, Gonta certainly doesn't feel alone, and it's not just because of bugs. He finds some blood-written messages on the walls that seem to guide him and then disappear; his own(?) missing glasses are unexpectedly tossed at him from a dark corner, yet he finds nothing, when he anxiously checks in that direction; and he senses and hears something terrifying and hostile lurking in the half-crumbled dark rooms just beyond the reach of firefly lights. In fact, to his terror, when one of them flew across a large hole in the floor in order to inspect the other end of a hallway, the light disappeared abruptly as if someone - or something - had grabbed... or eaten it. But, in spite of his searching, it looks like his friends aren't here, and this confuses him even more. There's lots of documents or recordings, that partially clue him in as to what has transpired after his death, almost up till 53rd killing game's end, there's even a morgue with what seems to be his own corpse (a discovery that pretty much messes up with his sense of reality and makes him question if he's not in afterlife. It's hard to sum up everything going through his head, but Gonta's sanity certainly takes a hit from seeing this), but no living people whatsoever.

Once his first objective to search for others is fulfilled, his next one is to escape the facility, by climbing the broken elevator shaft... He ends up using his own execution chain as a makeshift rope.

Oh and... While down there, he stumbles upon a futuristic server/computer room, where he finds his own Alter Ego. After a conversation, we'd get the first narrative choice as to whether you want the Alter Ego's memory to fuse with Gonta's consciousness via Flashback Light... or not. Tbh I'd imagine the game to be mostly linear, but choices like that would mostly impact some of his dialogues, his mental state (there would be a mechanic for that, actually!), as well as count to making some alternative/bad/early endings either available or not. He'd have the same information from 3rd party sources either way, the question is whether he wants to remember the events from Ch4 VR from "his own" POV or not.

"The world is okay" image is actually the end of this whole section aka the Prologue. Gonta climbs out of the dilapidated facility, and stews in all of the information he managed to gather while being trapped down there, including one that implies the world is supposedly perfectly okay. He catches some darker, defeated part of himself faintly hoping that the world is actually destroyed, because if it isn't, then what did he end Miu's life for? At least it would make his action not as senseless... He promptly pushes that thought away, internally bashing himself for ever thinking that, finally crawls out to the surface, and then sees a clear sky, unobstructed by the dome of the End Wall, which makes him notice he's outside of the Academy - cue crushing shame and layers upon layers of disappointment and painful realizations. About the 4th trial, about himself... about that intrusive thought he just had. "The world is okay, and you're still stupid", is how the whole line actually goes. But beyond that, there's relief and hope as well. Because if he's alive, despite his brutal death, then perhaps others are as well, no matter how... unreal it sounds? He now knows that Himiko, Shuichi and Maki survived, too, and he desperately wants to see them again. After Gonta gathers himself from his breakdown and rests, he tries to figure out just where he is - he uses his entomological and star knowledge to do so - and embarks on a journey, trying to find any nearest city, to then continue searching for his other friends.

Incidentally, as Gonta starts walking... he hears some cries of frustration (or perhaps cries for help?) and upon rushing to the spot he's heard them from, finds a particularly energetic and chatty bug, who reallyreallyreallyreallyreally wants to find her friend. Human friend, actually! Gonta decides to help her as well, seeing that they might head in the same direction anyway. And wow, that person the bug is talking about must be such a kind, sweet and good-hearted individual! They *both* even used to be friendless losers who befriended bugs as kids! Gonta sure would love to meet this kindred spirit, if possible!

[SETTING, PLOT BITS & CONCEPTS, yadda yadda]

The memories of V3 cast are false, but Hope's Peak is very much real. The killing game(s) organized by Tsumugi/Team Danganronpa were the copycat crimes Tsumugi alluded to at the end of V3. Personally, I feel that this combo offers most concepts and ideas to explore, so that's what I'm going for. Once V3 survivors escape the Academy for Gifted Juveniles, they manage to find Future Foundation, and while under its protection/employment, begin investigating their real pasts and Team Danganronpa as a whole, while dealing with other missions, if ordered to do so. When GDT begins, it's about 2-3 years since the 53th killing game has concluded.

After the Prologue, Gonta eventually finds Toko and Komaru, who are out on a field mission that day (he quite heroically saves them in sheer panic picks up a random manhole cover and yeets it at the monobeast that was facing them, interrupting and ending their fight). Thanks to Kameko's tearful reunion with Toko, and Gonta introducing himself and explaining his predicament in a gentlemanly fashion frantically BOMBARDING Tokomarus with info about him, Shuichi, Himiko and Maki, and whatever Kameko has told Gonta about Toko and her own ties to the killing games, all to convince her to pleasebelievehimandhelphimfindhisfriendsaaaahhhhhh, they hesitantly allow him to join them. They're not sure if this is a good idea, and this big-ass scary looking dude is still wearing some hospital-looking gown, so who knows where he's escaped from, but... it's worth checking out with FF. And Gonta translating Kameko's words to Toko, 100000% validating her feelings about Kameko indeed being a very special "friendsect" might've helped to buy into her good graces, just a liiiiiittle bit. She denies it though when Komaru calls her out on this :).

The three (four, if you will!) musketeers head back to one of the FF outposts, but since the road back is rather long and dangerous, at one point they get separated by horde of mono-monsters, and amids that chaos, Gonta has a surprise run-in with Miu who... isn't just very unfriendly, hostile even, but doesn't even feel fully herself either, and apparently for more reasons than mere anger over Gonta choking her. There's a goddamn Monokuma with her, too?! Suffice to say... Gonta doesn't exactly escape this situation unscathed and unshaken.

Some other things happen along the way, but luckily, as the night approaches, he's able to find Toko and Komaru again, and together with them reach the Future Foundation, finally reuniting with the V3 survivor Trio. And this closes Chapter 1 - while Prologue served as tutorial for stealth and investigation and puzzle mechanics, this one would teach fight mechanics and introduce core premise and plot elements, which is pretty much investigating the secret behind Gonta's revival, Miu situation, what it might mean about other deceased killing game participants... as well as Gonta trying to find his own place and purpose in FF.

The ones that are confirmed to be revived are Gonta, Miu, and eventually also Kokichi, in that exact order. Yes, the whole Holy Trinity gets their second chance, how nice!

It ain't no VR, actually. I'm saying this, bc I remember someone leaving tags "Oh, it makes me think of post V3 VR digital limbo", and I know this is a popular fanon, but that's not the case here. As a reader, even if I don't gravitate towards the trope, I like it when it's done well - Kodaka did do some cool stuff VR motives in his games, and so did the fandom - but as creator I can't think of anything inspired (plus at the time I had no clue it was such widespread interpretation). And I suppose my brain naturally prefers stories to happen within more material settings, even if they're warped and influenced by a mind, or reality-breaking phenomena? So, my point... everything in GDT is very much real. The killing game happened for real. People died for real… And some got to live for "real" again.

I'm making it all work by playing with and building upon certain elements and technology already established within canon. And this is mostly where I draw the horror element from.

I considered one of the first hints towards what's truly happening - aside from the body in the morgue - that every time you'd die as Gonta within the game, he'd find his previous body lying in that spot. Players would need to pick his things back up, such as glasses and items. Kinda like in Automata or the "bloodstain-retrieval" system in soulsborne? There of course would be a limit to how many would appear, as the oldest one would start to naturally disintegrate. There'd be some more of those hints in Prologue, but I'd make discovering them all except for the morgue optional and missable. Like, if Gonta didn't die in that segment, the player would never know they could stumble upon his old body, until that happened later in the game. Or if he didn't return to a specific place after something specific happens, then he wouldn't witness something curious. I just... like elements like that, that aren't vital but fuel the conspiracy and reward wall-licking XD. Of course there'd be an option for no-death runs, aside from those imposed by the plot.

Gonta fights with a manhole cover attached to the very chains he was tied with during his execution XD. I wanted to give him a wacky weapon that would fit what Toko and Komaru use.

[DRAMATIS PERSONAE, CHARACTER ARCS/DYNAMIC, ETC.?]

Things I'd like to explore the most are Gonta's compulsions, and whether he can grow to accept being seen in the wrong or negative way, without his self-worth falling apart. Whether he's capable of letting Miu heal on her own, without him in the picture, without insisting on desperately fixing things, or showing how regretful and sorry he is; how he can handle someone challenging his near-obsessive and self-destructive need for being seen by others as a good person, while ironically having zero self-preservation and harbouring so much self-hatred. Whether he can realise how insisting on helping everyone the way he does can paradoxically come off as self-centered, in spite of his inherent selflessness, earnestness, and genuine love for others. How there are some things that just can't be fixed... and you still gotta live and still deserve, no, have a duty to care for yourself. Just... ya know. A few examples out of an endless list of his personal issues that imo need addressing one way or another. Nothing is really easy for him, not even his integration into FF ranks, as no one here, not even Gonta, is exactly sure what is up with him coming back to life. He's given a chance to prove himself, though he's not automatically granted the freedom to do what he pleases. But he understands.

Truth is, the nature of his revival aside, Gonta in general trusts himself less. He seems to act like his old self alright, but there's an air of resignation and subtle hopelessness to the way he seems to perceive himself now. He's in a worse state, even if he keeps moving forward for other people's sake. The 4th trial, after all, felt like a thorough breakdown and "confirmation" of his worst fears and criticism he had about himself, or how others used to misjudge him. It's not something that wouldn't leave a trace on his already shitty self-perception. Thankfully, there are some compassionate souls looking out for him, like Himiko, for example. But it's not just her.

I didn't think I'd reveal it this way, I actually hoped to compile my old sketches of this in future… but it involves my very first Gonta ship ever.

Namely Gonta x Toko (or as I like to call it, gontoko). At the time, I didn't have it in me to delve into ougoku (wounds still too fresh to feel worth it yet, despite some morbid fascination) nor saigoku (somehow didn't click for me for over 3-4 months after finishing V3 despite the massive in-game fuel being present in there). In my eyes ship with Toko provided that perfect balance of cozy/healthy but still flawed dynamic, while still having some "tooth" to it (aka psychological f-ckupery and dysfunctionality between two people trying to make sense of each other and their inner demons, contrasts and parallels etc.) without me feeling like I'm tossing Gonta in a heartbreakingly and irreparably harmful to him situation.

With that in mind though, we're NOT interfering with Tokomaru in any way whatsoever. Tokomaru is *sacred*. Nothing will break it apart. It's a 100% "Toko has two hands" situation. That's her life now, and you bet she gets constant migraines over it. She now has to deal with two "but I'm too normal/dumb for this wahh wahh shitty self-esteem!" green-haired messes. Plus the thought that she's kiiiinda like her dad now, with tho partners, drives Toko up the walls. Thing is, this girl is doing this right, even if she doesn't currently see it this way. Meanwhile Gonta can fry her brain with kindness and deep respect she's so not wired to handle.

That being said, my goal with them isn't exactly touchy-feely stuff, but exploring their dynamic as two deeply self-loathing but sensitive and hard-working towards self-betterment people, who know how it's like to discover they're murderers, while having zero memory of the act - and how crushing it is towards any crumbs of positive self-perception and hope for being deserving of affection/validation they might've held onto until this point in their life. Different circumstances, motivations, and the ways it all transpired, but still, there are grounds for mutual understanding here. At the same time Toko seems like a perfect character to call Gonta out on his bs in a way no one else could: both in good faith with genuine, constructive support in mind, as well as due to her own flaws and current hangups causing her to lash out. Both options can create potentially compelling conflict. But frankly, it goes both ways. After all, Gonta does tend to make simple but startingly on-point observations, sometimes. They'd just be dishing reality-checks at each other, whether knowingly or not :D

Perhaps I could also touch upon Gonta's and Toko's (either conscious or not) tendency to gravitate towards individuals who are "evil-coded" (regardless of whether they're really evil or not, either personality or aesthetic-wise), or those who either talk down, insult, mistreat if not outright harm/use them. It's something that sadly many victims of abuse in the real world do - habitually ending up in toxic circles, since it's something familiar, while not reacting to, not "computing", feeling lost, confused or even stressed out in more healthy dynamics. And from what I see, both Toko and Gonta are different flavours of that in their own right...

I'd like to explore the parallels between Gonta and Komaru as well, from a friendship perspective. I do see certain similarities between them, how they were both set up to end up making drastic choices via someone else orchestrating everything with that exact outcome in mind, before Gonta/Komaru would ever know they'd be making such a choice... I truly think the only difference between Gonta and Komaru is that, at her lowest, after her spirits were broken upon seeing that video, there was someone by her side, who *actually* cared for her and prioritized her wellbeing; someone who would fight to stop her from making a decision driven by despair, as opposed to actively feeding into and enabling it. Then, there's of course the issue of low self-esteem, and downplaying one's achievements. Komaru in this story has of course mostly grown past this and in a much better place, but to an extent, she certainly could see some of her past self in Gonta.

Plus, on a lighter note, with Komaru wanting to be a manga artist, and Gonta thinking comic artists and book illustrators are "good people" (because it makes understanding complex concepts easy for him), I feel like they could become good buddies via that passion of hers. Also in DR:S both Gonta and Komaru asked Angie for art advice... they're both aspiring artists in a way!

Also I find it really damn funny that Komaru is very similar to "komar", which is the polish word for mosquito xD. That certainly would appeal to Mr Ultimate Entomologist!

Shuichi and Komaru are petrolhead friends, and they wish oh so badly to have a car vs motorbike race with each other. It'd be a waste of FF resources, but they can't help to get excited about the idea. And maybe they'd get a sequence dedicated to just that… with an extra bonus of escaping from a horde of monobeasts.

As you may have gathered already, Kameko is an actual character in there, she helps with espionage and exploration, and she indeed is the bug Gonta meets at the end of Prologue, that helps him find the (Towa?) city. She rightfully serves as the catalyst for the whole gontoko deal starting :).

The twist tho is… this actually ain't original Kameko, but one of her descendants, who took it upon itself to keep her name and live as "Kameko" and Toko's friend. Life of a stink bug isn't that long, after all, ranging between 6-8 months once it exits the nymph stage. Yes, it has thematic relevance to the overall story. :D

Maki finds herself busy with taking care of Monokuma Children (the helmet wearing kids from UDG), using her knowledge of living and working in orphanage... frankly, she's seeing a bit on herself in those kids, who had their hands stained, going as far as to orphan themselves due to brainwashing. Sure, her memories might not be real... but to her it feels real, and the empathy for their circumstances is still there in her heart. She's also a close friend with Nagisa.

Miu's out there, as we already know, dealing with her own problems, and seemingly in a way worse situation than Kokichi and Gonta are. Seems like Monokuma is keeping her captive, and wants to form her into the next Junko - and with Miu being completely alone here, she pretty much forces herself to comply out of fear. She's also developed trauma response to hearing apologies - as this was the very last thing she kept hearing while dying. Still, she's not exactly proud of what she did to Gonta in retaliation during their accidental "reunion". She feels like she's crossed a moral line she can't exactly come back from. And this, as well as the current state of the world she wished to make better with her inventions, would accumulate and make her want to fight against her cowardice.

Kokichi... is quite tricky to describe, not gonna lie, because a lot of his arc relies on mystery and working while in hiding. He's seemingly found everywhere, defying logical explanation, as to how he could even move between those locations. He's no doubt planning something though. Trying to defeat the evils... in his own way. Which is naturally making life harder for everyone around, both "allies" and enemies. He's seemingly alone, but extremely busy executing a certain plan of his.

There's one version of Kokichi though, that starts sort of hanging around the Gonta+Tokomaru team. I affectionately call him Fukushima Flower Kokichi due to the odd deformities of his body (there will be a concept sketch below). He seems more frail and quieter and even... sweeter? Than his normal self. Because of that, Gonta, in his compulsive empathy, finds it difficult to completely dismiss the little guy and not feel bad towards him, despite the anxiety he feels after the Ch4 events. He's cautious and tense, but can't help not to at least keep an eye on him. This particular Kokichi also assures that he's... Disconnected from the "main one", and therefore "safe". Whatever that means.

[MAJOR SPOILER/DEEP LORE TERRITORY + EXPERIMENTAL IDEAS?] (beware if you care for those, there's 0,0000000000001% change this might be made within next 30 years lmao)

Nanokumas, son. They mutate in response to despair! You can't get rid of them, Gonta.

After the end of the 53rd killing game, and the survivor trio escaping the Academy, with no Motherkuma to oversee and control their numbers, they eventually began to go rogue and self-replicate while executing their hidden self-preservation protocol and now bugged programming indiscriminately. And then they went on without anyone's supervision or knowledge for a very long while.

One of the by-products of their activity is Mono-beasts we know from UDG mutating into Eldritch Abominations, and certain individuals coming back wrong, but it's actually so much more than that, and the situation is pretty dire. The world is at the risk of grey goo apocalypse, and what's going around is pretty much the Mist meets End of Evangelion bs. And they might go "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream" pretty soon, considering that for some death isn't an escape any more. Despair and the concept of killing games has taken a new form, pretty much, and the horrible discoveries don't end here.

Knowing this, Gonta, Kokichi and Miu... it's not surprising to find that they're all literally infested with nanomachines holding their cells like glue, and of course their newfound existence comes with a catch.

The stability of their form is influenced by their mental state, self-perception, and to a limited extent, their own will, the last one allowing for introducing unique fighting or puzzle-solving mechanics later on. But, as a scary side-effect, they're at risk of physically manifesting their emotional distress... including exhibiting the symptoms of their deaths. Their bodies may lose integrity and simply fall apart on a cellular level if things go unchecked for too long.

For now the assumption is that Kokichi was the first one to revive (with Miu second, and Gonta last). Because of this, his form is the most flawed and unstable one out of all of them. There might be more than one of him, too.

Kokichi's revival was an accident, Miu's seems to have happened by Monokuma's design, but how did Gonta even came back to life? By whose will and design? Was it an accident, just like in Kokichi's case, or...? It's true, that when he woke up, it seemed like some things were specifically prepared just for him to find. Either way Gonta's in the middle when it comes to stability, but it can go either way, depending on how much he relies on special fighting mechanics, and on his arc/choices made.

Miu's arguably in best condition, since her body wasn't destroyed like the guys' were. She wasn't as much revived via complete rebuilding, but her original body was "simply repaired". However, at first, she's unaware that she truly died - being instead convinced by Monokuma, that she miraculously survived and ended up in a coma instead.

Even if they're technically immortal, it doesn't mean the process of dying or reviving wouldn't be traumatic, as they'd then wake up and remember all of the pain they've gone through, or remain conscious in states any other human being would perish from. There are also things suggesting their super-healing abilities might come with certain dangers attached to them, so... perhaps the "survival" aspect of the game doesn't ever disappear entirely, it's just that the repercussions for dying are recontextualised.

Either way, speaking of existential issues...

So, if you're a "clone" of yourself with your memories "reinstalled" via Flashback Light, are you still that person? Are you really different, if molecularly, functionally and psychologically you're the perfect recreation of the "original"? Or perhaps the body at the morgue was the fake one? Who knows? And does it even matter, considering that previously, your memories and backstory were a fabrication anyway? You're pretty much just an Alter Ego installed onto "flesh hardware", just like you were before. The only difference is that your previous body might've used a real human being - with their own life and history - as a base, and currently you're using a "blank slate" aka a clone. Or perhaps that old body was a clone, too, and the original is out there, somewhere? And if so... did he have a say in your/his participation in the 53rd killing game?

Was this how the Ch3 resurrection ritual was supposed to actually work? (In my mind, yes. With nanotech, imo cloning is also within the realm of possibility for this universe, but even without it Team DR could've just kidnapped an unwilling body double and slap fake memories onto him and call it a day)

Maki, out of all three V3 survivors, is the most sceptical of the idea of bringing others back the same way Gonta was. She worries about Shuichi and Himiko getting false hopes of saving Kaede, Kaito, Tenko and Angie, and getting themselves into danger by obsessing over this. She also doesn't exactly trust Gonta… Well, she pretty much doesn't view Gonta as Gonta, but an imposter, and perhaps a spy or something akin to a living Troyan Horse, even if unwilling/unwitting. Basically, she thinks there has to be a reason for him to come back to life to conveniently end up with Future Foundation, and all of this might be one big trap. It's only thanks to Himiko's and surprisingly Toko's insistence that she doesn't do as much about it as she normally would have. Plus, when it goes to Kaito... the idea of a """living""" "puppet" that emulates his behaviour feels like an affront to both his memory and her feelings for him. Gonta will certainly remember all that.

There's also a problem of how Gonta, Miu and Kokichi deal with the news that their past life wasn't real to begin with...

For Gonta... most of the things he was doing in his life were for others, out of genuine need to see them happy, but also because Gonta wanted to both be and be seen as a good and helpful person. So, if it's all fake, if all those people - who've shaped or inspired his goals and motivations, who were the source of abuse, neglect, of his insecurities - have never existed to begin with, then what did he work for so hard, what did he felt so stupid and worthless for? In his FTEs, Shuichi helped Gonta focus on himself a bit more, but it seems like a wasted effort now. Just what set of values should he even pursue now? He can't help but mourn the forest family, specific bug friends, and many other people in his life, that turns out he never truly had. What Maki said about him being just a copy that's convinced they're the original doesn't help either. He feels horrible about "stealing" the life of that original person. Like a parasite that got his host's life snuffed out, only to continue living in their body undeservingly. Something akin to Ophiocordyceps unilateralis, the zombie-ant fungus. Suffice to say... this whole thing is a source of a lot of anguish for him, and to no one's surprise, he feels personally responsible. He's even begging FF to help him find the real family of that individual, so that he can "atone" by living with them while pretending to be the"original" person before they had "Gonta mod" installed. That idea is very firmly and promptly shot down by Toko.

Kokichi, I imagine, could be pushed further down the unhinged territory... For all the lies he's ever told and the masks he's put on, he, at the very least, assumed he could depend on knowing the truth about himself, no matter how deeply it was hidden. But now it turns out to be a lie he's never signed up for, and he gets that extra layer of detachment from everything. Or perhaps it's the total opposite - he's glad to be "rid off" his "true" self, if it was something he wanted to bury or avoid - and the sense of losing touch with it is "no biggie", or so he insists. Still, it annoys him to no end, that it's a result of someone else's will, instead of his own. "Invasive" doesn't even begin to describe it. Underneath it all though, there's that persistent nihilistic thought of "I can do anything, create anything, I have no attachments to anyone and anything. I can shape myself into who I want over and over and over and over, and no one will stop me now." - and this revelation is both freeing and depressing for him. All he knows for sure is that Monokuma is still pissing him off, and he wants that bitch down. And he's going to make that everyone's problem.

Miu actually takes the news quite well. See, if I had to sum up her own arc... it's definitely the most shoneny one out of them all XD. The whole thing with Miu becoming Junko is basically her going from complying with Monokuma's plans out of fear, to deliberately pretending to do so, so that she can have an in depth access to his tech, come up with proper plans against him etc. etc.. She causes a ton of problems to the other characters, yes, because she has to put on a believable act, but I wanted Miu's endgame to be this wholesome twist with her dramatically undoing her pig-tails, as she announces she's *not* and *never* would be some Junk! She's the one and only golden girl genius Miu Iruma, and she's here to save the world with her inventions, not fuck it over. Monokuma retorts to this by reminding her that she's a fake, but her response is basically: "Oh, that "us being fiction" thing? So? I LOVE being me. It's fuckin' awesome to be Miu Iruma!". It probably helps that, in her made up backstory, she became an inventor after waking up from a coma episode, so the unreality and randomness of her identity was pretty much always part of the package. Plus, falsely acquired or not, her knowledge is still applicable and Miu *can* come up with and build things that work, and make tangible difference through them. If that doesn't make it real, then what does? So, what's the point of the angst, again? She concludes her old self would LOVE to be her. Tldr, I just want this girl to keep winning, okay?

At one point Gonta faces another temptation - if his personality, backstory, traumas, self-hatred, if they're all fake, and coming from nothing "real", no tangible experience, then what's even the point of sticking to his hangups, of... dealing with this mess? Of tormenting himself and failing because of who he is? Why not ditch it all and take a shortcut by rewriting himself completely, into someone better, smarter, more useful, someone... just perfect. What's the point of being the person he intuitively hates, if all of that can seemingly be changed at a whim and snap of a finger? The moment he's able to notice and verbalize those feelings, the mere possibility eats at him from the inside, especially since the technology IS there. He could spare everyone so much trouble, so much time spent on coaching him, on teaching him, on explaining the obvious, spare them from getting frustrated with his naivete or lack of knowledge... Sure, it might mean he will ultimately become a different person, effectively ending his current self, but isn't that a fair price for providing benefit to the world and his friends? It doesn't even dawn on him that some people might've already gotten attached to who he currently is, and the outcome of his actions might depend on several gameplay factors.

I'm thinking about the structure where there would be hidden counters for Affection (with Toko), Doom (based on narrative personal choices, character development and monitoring emotional state, the amount of deaths etc.) and Performance (based again on amount of deaths, reliance on special abilities in fights, objective completion rate, and damage healing), that could determine different endings for different combinations of those (like Low/High/Poor status respectively could result in a Bad End at one point), even if generally those would be interconnected anyways. The game would be, again, linear, but because of those counters there, a small branching in narrative leading to an earlier ending could occur along that path.

I did say I'm not really inspired by VR AU, but after stewing on it while writing this post, maybe there could be some slight elements of it. It could help introduce some trippier and more surreal segments into the mix, that I wouldn't know how to incorporate otherwise, aside from literally breaking their fabric of reality as we know it XD (not that it isn't broken already, but...). It would serve as no more than plot/scene enhancer, rather than a major component of it.

Nyeh. I wish we could play a segment as Himiko. Do some MAGIC. Or to put it simply, use stuff like sleight of hand and tricks to distract people in order to solve stealth puzzles or something like that.

Jfc I just found a scribble that Gonta gets shitface drunk on purpose at one point, I dunno anymore what his plan was, he wanted to poison nanokumas or something? XDDD Or maybe he was just so done with everything up to this point? dasjgdsaj I forgot about that bit but it's hilarious and it so stays if I ever make this game dajhgsajhgjsadgj I don't care what I will have to do to make it in-character, it's gonna happen xDDDD

Komaeda's here too????? Just... Happy to be there? Talking esoteric stuff? Enjoying the show not even from a front row, but putting his chair right on the damn stage? Taking in the view of the "great tide of human enterprise, coming to naught"? XD Rooting for Hope??? XD

[RANDOM TRIVIA etc.]

I'd like to expand on the references to the other media thing. Before V3 I used to be one of those assholes who would see fanarts as a waste of time and effort as opposed to just focusing on one's own original content. You know, the "why would you spend time on something someone else made, instead of making your own thing?". Turns out I haven't loved a fictional story strong enough to understand the drive until it finally hit. There IS merit and certain selfless dedication to pursuing fanarts and expressing love for something that isn't about you or your concepts. It is an unique and wonderful feeling with a different flavor of satisfaction, just like doing personal artwork vs commission work are activities that feel rewarding in a completely distinct way (happiness of self-actualization to see your inner world come to life vs pride of a professional who likes making happy clients. With fanarts I'd say it's... Sense of celebration and paying homage. And rotating the blorbo).

Either way, this was a considerable shift in mentality for me, and ngl, it felt huge. So now that I had my anime redemption arc, my change of heart, my heel turn, I wanted to go out of my way to actively make GDT a love letter to other games or manga that I liked. Just like V3 sort of did, with its characters and story being their own thing, while simultaneously being PACKED with references to other media.

For example, I listened a ton to this "Time and Tide" by Alan Price song from Plague Dogs while thinking of this story. A song about the ocean/waves and going home, just like "At the Bottom of the Sea", but whose message is a completely opposite one. I wanted it to be the theme for the Good/True Ending, and kind of symbolic for the character arc Gonta would go through.

One of the manga I want to reference a lot is Gunnm (or Battle Angel Alita). It's one of my all time faves and fundamentals of my art style, and I think it has a ton of motives than could mesh well, because of the motives it itself tackles: cyborgs, and their total opposite, humans with flesh body but chip instead of a brain; humans who sold off their biological tissue and rights to DNA and someone else ended up constructing literal monsters and mutants out of those; scientists who achieved near-immortality thanks to cloud of nanomachines; 3D bioprinters; people whose DNA was designed from scratch, and people who wanted to mass produce them for "bloody, killing sports"; quantum supercomputers forecasting future and dictating humanity's fate; an "Incubator", where biological brains dream of a fake world, while their energy is used as a power and processing units for said quantum computers; the concept of freedom, instinct and definitions of *True* free will and individuality in a world like that. I wouldn't go as extra on those motives in GDT, but I'd love to incorporate some of that into the overarching themes and plot elements as far as constraints of original universe could plausibly allow (and with nanomachines, full-immersion VR, big mechas, robots, and personality/memory rewriting machines I think there's quite a lot of that wiggle room for those elements to fit like glove). An artificial personality installed onto biological "hardware", and the whole Theseus ship dilemma as to whether they're still an individual is something that would fit perfectly alongside such homages.

I wanted to pay homage to Gentleman Dress Up, too, by making some collectible clothes for Gonta, but... I dunno, at this point this thing already turns into such an overambitious project XD... still I thought it'd be neat.

[SOME EXTRA DOODLES TO MAKE UP FOR THAT WALL TEXT] (at least those more legible ones)

(The three main sillies. And Kameko!)

(Poster sketches, Nuclear Flower Kokichi, Gonta hairstyle concepts - I was thinking maybe some choices could result in him having either long or short hair- etc.,etc... Oh, and about that Gonta & Kokichi sketch in the upper right corner... Remember that one wip compilation I posted a long, long time ago? This one? Well, I kinda sorta deliberately showed an edited out version back then. Now you can see how it's really suppossed to look like. Hopefully certain details are noticeable :) It's from a True Ending. Make of it what you will :D)

I wish I could post more drawings in the same style as the previous concepts for this game, especially moody environments/scenes (I specifically practiced a style that'd be quick, but give a vibe of a finished piece), but in reality the majority of those are either too messy to be legible, some I'd like to work more on (like Miu's new attire, more mono-nano-monster designs, etc.) and some are still in my head... I do hope to do so one day though.

[TO SUM THIS UP]

There are a lot of things I haven't ultimately talked about, and frankly, if I were to do this project for real, I'm not sure how many of those ideas would be left unchanged, or even make it to the final product... Reading my old notes, there are definitely concepts I'd do differently now, or ones that felt a bit embarrassing to talk about here... But that's pretty much the gist of it at its current form!

It's been a while, too... I haven't thought about GDT as much ever since I've got similar emotional catharsis by making Gonta in Code Vein and playing it while projecting his post-V3 arc onto it. But I had fun with it, and getting your ask... kinda rekindled those brain worms, haha. I dunno if actually making it into a game would be ever feasible for me, who has zero gamedev/coding knowledge aside from designing 2d assets for my friends/other people's indie games. Even if I had to make it much simpler and sacrifice most of the play mechanics... But concept artbook though... that would be lovely. And within the realm of possibility. But not this year. And very unlikely a year after that. There are other priorities, and more pressing artistic matters now xD.

Thank you for sending that ask and giving me an opportunity to talk about it. I hope at least some of it was interesting!

#turbo-tsun reply #turbo-tsun blah #turboarting #gonta gokuhara #toko fukawa #kokichi ouma #danganronpa #danganronpa another universe giga despair triad #drau gdt #aka that gonta horror game #gontoko #long post #cw body horror #cw blood #cw strong language

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f1-disaster-bi · 2 years ago

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I just saw your send me asks post and I come bearing two ideas. Just choose which one you like more or none or both whichever rocks your fancy! I've just rediscovered your disabled lando au with Jenson and Seb as parents and it sounds so good! Do you have any more ideas for it? Maybe something where Lando experiences a setback when he's a bit older after he just got through quite a serious case of pneumonia and is still incredibly weak. Or on a happier note, Lando's first race where he can watch it with his dads and being a complete gremlin but so so loved by all the staff and drivers. The second idea is neurodivergent Lando: I don't know whether you would be interested or comfortable writing this but I really like your writing and would love to hear your thoughts. So I think racing would be his passion and when training and in the car he would always feel at peace and the most himself, but there are many aspects connected to f1 that he really struggles with. The constant swarm of people as well as the loud noises constantly. So I think noise-cancelling headphones and someone he knows close by (Jon my beloved) is a must. Also, Lando saying in interviews that he often wears sunglasses, even inside because he finds it too bright or always wearing hoodies because the material and fit feel a lot better to him. There are days where his sensory issues are less and days when they are a lot more prominent and I just love the idea of trainer/big brother Jon being the biggest support through everything and especially someone Lando trust wholeheartedly even when he doesn't feel good and his anxiety is bleeding through.

I absolutely adore the second idea, but it's been so long since I've gotten to think about of explore my foster child Lando/Disabled Lando au that I just can't not think about it now!

I hope these two ideas were what you were referring to ( one and two) what you were think of.

Lando having some complications as he grows older from the car accident when he was two that took his leg. Especially after how the orphange he was at often failed to bring him for check up's, so when Seb and Jenson adopt him when he's five-turning-six, they make sure to keep on top of everything. That's when they find out that Lando has some issues with his lungs because of the crash, and they often find themselves back in the doctor with colds and sore throats so they never turn into something worse

But when Lando is a little older, maybe ten, he starts to realise that people look down on him because of his prostetic leg. He realises other kids make fun of how he walksh and runs, how he gets so sick sometimes, and he just wants to be normal. He wants to be healthy, so when he starts to get a cough after going swimming with his class and someone dunking him under water a few times, Lando tries to hide it.

Seb and Jenson notice something is wrong but they think maybe it's the start of his pre-teen moodiness that he doesn't want to cuddle and watch movies or hang out with them in the evenings. They notice he's a little pale, but Lando brushes them off.

And then Lando collapses on the way out the door to school one day and Sebastian is in bits. Jenson was already gone for the gym, and Seb was doing drop off and he ends up calling Jenson from the hospital in a panic because "we missed it, he was in pain and we missed it". He'd feel so guilty, especially when Lando admits to everything, but first he was to endure his little boy needing surgery because his pnuemonia had collapsed his lung.

Lando wakes up to both his dad's holding his hands, just watching and waiting, and it makes him want to cry because he ws so scared the kids at school were right and that his dad's were tired of his disabilities but then Seb is there playing with his hair, kissing his forehead and whispering to him in German while Jenson kisses his hand and tells him he's safe and okay, and Lando knows his dads love him and feels so stupid for not telling them everything and doubting it

#foster child lando au #disabled lando #sebson #sebastian/jenson #lando

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yanisdoingstuff · 11 months ago

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I saw this reblogged by @uiolot and got inspired. Since I'm not posting much, I decided I'd answer some questions for main characters, C and Joy. WARNING VERY LONG

✨ — For Joy, I wanted it to express his upbeat demeanor, so I just googled synonyms for happiness, went through some, and it popped up in my head. Though I recently found out it's commonly used as a female name lol. It also became his mother's trait to give her children weird names with special meanings. As for C, I scrolled some male names to find one that sounded like him and shortened to one letter for ✨mystery✨.

🌼 — Joy is 16 and C is 17! Could never tell you what happened the day

🌺 — They have each other! Aside from that, C had his first “relationship” a few years ago with a toxic guy (though can you realistically not be toxic as a ~12-13 boy?), a blond cocky bastard. It kinda grew as a reference to me choosing between several looks for C. At first I wanted him to be blond, with curly hair; his ex got the 1st, Joy's human design got the 2nd. Joy also had a few crushes, even including Haru, but it never went anywhere (and thanks god, I never intended to, this man is way too old for him xd).

🍕 — Joy is probably burger with fries typa guy. Anything flavorful and colorful would be to his taste, but he's not too picky since his mom's cooking was always awful. C definitely likes meat and bread of any kind. They share love for sandwiches, soda, hard candy and pastry, especially buns from Snowdin when C tries them.

💼 — They're both high-schoolers, so nothing yet. C used to work in his father's butchery shop before the Underground, but it was less of "making a living" and more of a "one day you'll inherit my business dear son so I'm training you instead of letting you enjoy weekends properly".

🎹 — Joy travels around the Underground and draws a map of it. He sometimes watches Haru's family anime collection, reads adventure novels, listens to pop music, dances, and plays mortal combat-ish games. He also just... likes to yap. A lot. Anything to tire himself out really. C never had any hobbies because of being busy, so he just sticks around. Adventuring and exploring in general is interesting to him. They'd probably like DnD if they knew about it.

🎯 — Joy yaps and dances like a pro, hehe. C has the MC ability to solve any problem on the way. He's mostly collected, sharp, and is able to get out of most situations if time's given.

🥊 — Joy loves chatting, finding time to meet friends, seeing his elder brother a lot! His hobbies name it all. He only hates household chores, especially doing dishes, anything related to water (he can't swim) and being Haru's target during his training sessions. C likes working with people, reading books, but feels uneasy spending time with monsters except Joy. As to why... We'll see. I can't really come up with anything he'd purely hate... Like, cleaning toilets, not that's what everyone hates. Following other's orders and tasks maybe?

❤️ — Joy's best memories before the main story are related to his elder brother, Piper. They barely meet each other these days, which makes it double special. They're close since childhood, talk about everything that bothers them, watch silly movies... They can even just sleep in the same room and be happy. C's happiest memories are probably about the family farm, when he was little, played with piggies (under guidance, we all know how scary pigs can be) and didn't know where meat comes from. Since meeting Joy, the cutest moments they had were definitely added to both's lists.

✂️ — This topic is secret until the episodes come out, but let's just say they're also related to the couple's relationships. Besides, both struggle with parents a lot. Joy has arguments with mom, C hates dad, perfect match.

🧊 — Joy's is, though at first I pictured him wearing glasses on the forehead for more adventurous look, but it doesn't make sense when you're half-blind lol. His jeans were slightly different in fit. C, aside from early choices I mentioned, had changes in boots (before they were just generic boots) and pants (same... I have troubles with pants) and was gifted a lil garter belt cover for his weapons. I also got inspired by Hunter from TOH and Vaggie from HH — strong protective characters with trauma 😊 — and gave him a hooked nose.

🍀 — Joy was at least 70% self-insert. So I can say he's inspired by my own awkwardness? Also my desire to yap and the idea of comforting teen relationship. A tiny bit of any sunshine character I've seen in media (Charlie in HH, Tails in Sonic franchise, Luz in TOH, etc etc...). C is pretty generic, I admit. Insert him in any 1st person/unnamed protagonist game. Frisk heritage right here. But in looks he's heavily inspired by Manlybadasshero 'cause he's the true protagonist of every story.

🌂 — Joy is Disney channel series or teen dramedy. C is rpgmaker yandere game or PS1 horror with a sprinkle of slice of life when he's on the pacifist route.

💚 — They're both cisgender boys and gay! (Probably would be trans-inclusive, but not familiar with the concept enough to identify as such).

🙌🏻 — C is the only child. Joy has seven!

🍎 — As I mentioned, Joy quarrels with his mother a lot. He doesn't feel needed, and in his eyes, mom suddenly stopped loving him when he was little and only needs him for doing dishes from time to time. His dad is simply absent. Still technically in the family, but always stuck in his workplace, also since Joy's childhood, barely seeing his kids a few times a year. No conflict with him, but not much love either, it's neutral. C's in very bad relationship with father due to the amount of work and it's violent nature. And he's just old in general. «These damn kids» guy. As for his mommy, I'm sure they're fine. I imagine a very patient, warm woman he was sorry to leave like that.

🧠 — I love Joy's cheerful, yet awkward personality. He helps me cope, especially with my situations at home, school stuff and sexuality topics. He doesn't know anything, he's a baby!! 🥺 (he's actually a nice smart guy, as mature as an introverted 16 yo can be). As for C, he's just my ancient Undertale protagonist idea I still cherish. Also a secret for later, but... He's the “I fucked up — I fucked up more trying to improve the last fuck up — I learned and did it better from scratch” trope. He has a lot of skeletons in his closet he still thinks about and grieves over. He may turn VERY flawed at some point. And I love bad people who are truly sorry in the end.

✏️ — Not too often, but I like sketching them and writing the detailed script for episodes when I have time. Also the whole project! It will come out eventually, we all say in unison.

💎 — Definitely not Joy, he's staying. C... Who knows. He's also important, probably not. But I swear I wouldn't about every OC I've ever had before one day deciding they're not fit for my grown brain anymore and getting rid of them. So we'll see.

💀 — Not phobias, but fears in general. Joy is very much afraid of death. It's a taboo topic for most people, and in his family it's not spoken about along with many other things. Seeing someone dying or hearing about it (only including fresh cases) might be straight up traumatizing for him. They're both afraid of being left alone, for C it also means losing Joy as the story progresses.

🍩 — Lora! The new queen of the Underground. She's the main antagonist in the whole AU. There are temporary enemies too, especially for C. You'll learn more on the process.

🎓 — For a year and few months. Such a long journey, hehe.

🍥 — I was 16! It always feels weird to outgrow your characters. I'm almost afraid of losing touch, heheh.

Maybe I'll participate again with other characters I have. That's fun to ponder certain things about you children, especially while they're in development.

Ask Game for someone’s OC(s)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

💼 - What do they do for a living?

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

🎯 -What do they do best?

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

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sailorkamino · 3 years ago

Text

Cities of Loves

relationships: moon boys x avenger!witch!reader [gender neutral]

summary: From camel rides and stargazing in Cairo, to dinner and sightseeing in Paris, to shopping and visiting the beach in Guatamala City. You love teleporting with your boys.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: referenced animal abuse, aquaphobia, a little suggestive (flirty jake is my weakness), intelligent people are steven's kink

a/n: i'm a little insecure abt this one so i would love to hear your thoughts, i think it feels kind of choppy since i'm trying to tell 3 stories but i hope ya'll still like it! which date is ur favorite?

chaos in us masterlist | moodboard

Steven is the perfect gentleman. He can be a little awkward but also incredibly passionate about his interests. Everything about him is endearing.

“This must be a dream,” Steven mumbles breathlessly beside you. You grin, linking your arm in his and kissing his cheek. “It’s real,” you promise in his ear. His tan skin does nothing to hide the blush on his cheeks. As you get closer to the pyramids it’s hard to ignore the uncomfortable buzz itching under your skin, but the adorable camels are a welcome distraction.

“Can I pet them?” Steven asks excitedly. As soon as the handler nods in approval Steven is scratching the nearest large animal behind its ears, cooing at it lovingly. You decide to focus on the one beside Steven’s, stroking his fuzzy head. “Hey there Babu.”

The tour guide looks at you in confusion, sure he didn’t introduce animals yet. You offer an awkward smile. Steven remains oblivious. “What’s her name?” He asks the handler, referring to the camel he’s petting. You bite your lip before you can answer.

“Yasmine,” the man says, still looking at you warily. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” Steven grins. You pout. Wow, you really are jealous of an animal. But as you stroke Babu you’re overcome with contentment, telling you that he's being taken care of. You did research into this tour company but you still wanted to check, you would die before you gave money to animal abusers. Speaking of animals…

“Oh Steven, before I forget,” you speak up, digging in your tote bag. He watches curiously as you pull out some pills. “I read that camel riding will make you sore so you should take some painkillers beforehand.”

The fact that you took time to research your date is incredibly attractive to Steven for some reason. You’re just so brilliant. “You think of everything, don’t you?” He muses as you pull a bottle of water out of the same bag. You grin shepishly. Steven often praises you for little things that most people wouldn’t really care about but he does. It makes you feel special.

“Well I thought sore butts would make stargazing uncomfortable, so…”

He pauses in taking the medicine. “Stargazing?”

The excitement in his voice makes you puff your chest out proudly. “Mhmm. Right by the pyramids.”

He absolutely beams, chocolate eyes lighting up in excitement. Fuck, he’s such a nerd. And you love it. “That sounds amazing,” he compliments before downing the medicine with a swig of water. “Thank you, love.”

The pet name has your heart racing embarrassingly fast. It just sounds so pretty when he says it like that. Maybe you should legally change your name to Love, just so you can hear him say it all the time. You shake off your thoughts, popping a few pills in your mouth and returning them to your tote.

Steven feels a little flustered watching you drink from the same bottle. Something about the intimacy just makes him feel… soft. “Alright, time to start the tour,” the guide announces in accented English. You share one last excited look with Steven before climbing onto your camels.

The internet was right: a few hours on camelback did leave you sore. But it was worth it. You got to watch the sun set behind the Great Pyramids and explore the desert behind the Sphinx. You even got a beautiful candid shot of Steven. He’s looking at the horizon, windswept curls falling in his face, washed in the orange rays of golden hour.

Now that it’s cooled off and the sky has darkened you find yourself lying on a blanket beside Steven. One hand plays with the sand under you, the other’s entangled with your date’s. You point out the constellations to him. He loves listening to you tell the stories behind each one. You’re in the middle of telling him about Ursa Major and Minor when you feel his eyes burning into the side of your face.

You roll your head to the size, meeting his big dark eyes, full of so much care it makes you shy. “What?” You ask. “You’re brilliant,” he sighs lovingly. You freeze for a moment, taken back by the sentiment. Once his words sink in you’re squeezing his hand in yours. “You’re the brilliant one! You taught me how to write my name in hieroglyphics.”

“Yeah you but you know how to read way more ancient languages that I can!”

“Ok, let’s agree that we’re both dorks but we’re hot so it’s okay.”

____

Next week you go on your first date with Marc. He’s quiet initally, the complete opposite of Steven who tends to ramble when he’s shy.

“So, tell me about yourself, Marc. What do you like?”

He looks at his boeuf bourguignon pensivley. You’ve noticed he doesn’t talk about himself much but you’ve always liked a challenge. “This food is pretty great.”

You smirk at his answer. “Fair enough. What do you do when you’re not working?”

He draws his thick eyebrows together in thought. “Between the museum and Khonshu I don’t have much free time.” He quickly takes a sip from his glass, aware of how depressing his answer sounds. “What about you?”

You’re hit with a pang of sympathy. You’re tempted to assault Khonshu again just for taking up all the poor man’s time. You force a gentle smile and tell him more about yourself, hoping it will encourage him to share.

“Can I be honest with you? You seem like a good listener,” you confess, stabbing at your food with a fork. He nods quickly. “Yeah, of course.”

“I learnt from personal experience that if all you do is go from fight to fight you start to feel like a weapon. You have to take care of yourself.” You pause for a moment before sending him a playful look, not wanting to come off lecture-y, "like taking time to go to Paris with an Avenger/super model maybe.”

Your last comment has him cracking a barely three smile, but it's enough for the butterflies in your stomach to throw a damn rave. “Alright. Point taken.”

It’s a few minutes later before he answers your initial question. “I watch TV. But everyone does that so,” he trails off with a shrug. Already dismissive of himself. You perk up, trying to be encouraging as possible.

“Well, what do you like to watch?”

He pauses for a moment before confessing. “Star Wars.”

You don’t say anything yet your eyes sparkle with amusement. “What?” He huffs in annoyance. You shake your head with a snort. “And you call Steven a nerd.” The shocked, bewildered look on his face has you cackling into your incredibly expensive wine.

“I like Star Wars too. You’re just so easy to tease.”

“Am not,” he immediately snaps childishly. You look at him knowingly, silently telling him that he just proved your point. He avoids eye contact with a clenched jaw in what you can only describe as Marc Spector’s version of a pout. You nudge his foot under the table, giggling when he almost jumps out of his chair.

You can’t hold back your grin as you raise your glass. “To us,” you toast. Across from you, Marc’s dark eyes reflect the candle light in an almost hypnotic way. “To us,” he agrees (a bit begrudgingly), clinking your drinks.

You had to carry the conversation at first but as the night goes on, his confidence grows. The banter between you becomes easy. He’s witty, with a much dryer sense of humor than Steven, but he draws giggles from you nonetheless. Once dinner is over he offers you his arm, much to your suprise. You walk into the Parisian night together.

You aren’t shy about admirning your date. He’s beautiful. And the crisp suit he’s donning accentuates his muscles in all the right places. He looks at you curiously. You grin in response. “Just enjoying the view.”

He scoffs but can’t hide the smile tugging on his lips. “That was the worst line ever.”

“I don’t know, you’re still letting me hold your arm so I must be doing something right.”

“Yeah, well that’s because you’re ridiculously attractive. Not because of your dumb pick up lines.”

You stop in your tracks, making him stumble. “You think I’m ridiculously attractive?” You ask with bright eyes. “You know you’re hot,” he deadpans. “Yeah, but I like when you say it,” you chirp. You feel him chuckle against you even though he tries to hide it.

You lean into his solid body, whispering into his ear. “I think you’re hot too.” You watch happily as he shivers. Before he can respond you’re excitedly dragging him into a nearby bakery. Once you get your macaroons you find a park bench in view of the lit up Eiffel Tower.

“It’s beautiful.” He comments, admiring the monument. You raise your eyebrows flirtatiously but he cuts you off before you can speak. “If you say something cheesy like ‘you’re beautiful’ I’m leaving you here. I’ll find my own way back to London.”

You open your mouth, fully prepared to tell him he’s beautiful anyways, when he unceremoniously shoves half a macaroon in your mouth. You splutter in shock for a moment as he cackles. The first time you hear the man laugh and it’s at your expense. You glare at him as you chew on the dessert, resembling an angry chipmunk. With a loving smile he uses his thumb to wipe any crumbs from your lips.

You look at him in shock, heart beating widly, but he just grins boyishly before pulling you against his side. You rest your head on his shoulder, thinking about how much he came out of his shell since the beggining of the date.

“You really are beautiful, you know?” You mumble into his suit. There’s a pause, then his hand goes back to drawing shapes on your hip.

“So are you, baby.”

____

Jake is just as emotionally closed off as Marc, but he’s also incredibly charming when he wants to be. A little more fowards than his alters but you would be lying if you said you didn’t like his constant touches and Spanish compliments.

“These are so pretty,” you praise, looking at the stall of handmade jewelry. “Thank you. You two make a lovely couple,” the old woman replies. You grin as your eyes land on a set of leather cord bracelets, one with a sun charm, one with a moon. You hand her a few more quetzal's than necessary then pick up the matching items.

You turn to Jake, taking his hand in yours. He watches fondly as you slip the sunshine on his wrist, then the crescent on yours. “Moon for me?” He asks smugly. “No. For Khonshu,” you sigh dreamily, watching his reaction. Jake’s eyes widen and you can feel the confusion and jealousy radiating off of him. You can’t help but snicker.

“You’re just as easy to tease as Marc and Steven,” you grin, poking his side. He glares at you but there’s no heat behind it. You take his hand in yours to counter your trek through Chichicastenango.

“So is the sun supposed to be you?” He asks, raising your interlaced fingers to examine the charm. “Yep!” You affirm, popping the p. “Cause I’m the light of your life.”

He snorts at your response. You huff indignantly. “I’ll have you know I am a delight!”

“A delightful pain,” he jokes. You pout but it quickly turns into a smirk. You use your magic to deliver a swift kick to his butt. He stumbles in shock as you laugh loudly.

“Did you do that!?”

“Nooo, the other witch you’re on a date with did it.”

He can’t help but laugh, partly in shock, at your dry response. The husky sound has your stomach fluttering. “I think Marc is rubbing off on you, sunshine.”

“No, I’ve always been a little bit of a bitch,” you shrug casually. “Ooh, tacos!”

Jake lets you lead him to the food stand. And every other stand you want to go to. You thought Jake would be the best to go shopping with since he’s the most blunt but the man is already so whipped for you he can’t help but go along with whatever you want.

He grins as you try on a pair of heart shaped sunglasses, doing kissy faces as you model them. “They look great, corazón.” You pull them down to flash a wink before passing over some quetzal's and moving to the next stall. It doesn’t take long for you to start overheating under the Guatemalan sun.

“Alright time for part two of our date,” you grin, pulling him into an alley. He settles large hands on your waist, licking his lips hungrily. He gently pushes you against a brick wall. You tut, placing a finger on his pink mouth. “Nu uh, mister. We aren’t here for that. We’re here so I can teleport us without drawing attention.”

Before he can pout you’re pulling him through a portal. His eyes widen as he takes in his new sorroundings, the ocean breeze and salty air instantly invading his senses. Then he notices your new attire: a little red bathing suit showing off miles of perfect skin and curves. You look at him teasingly, aware of your effect on him.

“I’m gonna cool off in the water. Wanna come with? I can make you some swimming trunks.”

You can immediately sense Jake’s apprehension, your playful demeanor slipping into something more gentle. “Or we can go for a walk,” you offer. He shakes his head. “No, no, you have fun. I’ll enjoy the view.” You don’t want to leave Jake but you also have a feeling that acknowledging his fear will make him close up. You flash a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand softly. “I’ll only be a minute.”

You can’t help but feel a little guilty as you wade into the cool water. A lot of people are afraid of the ocean, you probably should have consulted him before planning this, but you thought a surprise would be fun. You go until the sea is waist deep, using your hands to cup the water and pour it on your hot shoulders and chest.

Suddenly you sense a familiar presence approaching you. You wait until his apprehensive hands settle on your hips to turn around. You attempt not to drool at his bare torso, all tan, smooth muscle, with a sprinkle of dark hair under his belly button. You try to focus, knowing he needs your comfort.

“You want those trunks now?”

He nods stiffly. You place your hands on his waist, transforming his wet shorts into red swimming trunks that matches your own suit. “That better, isn’t it? How does the water feel?”

His jaw tenses. “Good.”

“You know you don’t have to do this-”

“No. I want to do this,” he looks into your eyes, “with you.”

You grin, cupping his face in your hands. “I’m proud of you.”

His entire face softens, and for a split second you think Steven is fronting. “You are?” He asks so softly you almsot don’t hear it over the waves.

“I am.”

Suddenly he pulls you against him, lips crashing against yours. He’s practically clinging to you for comfort as you stroke his jaw soothingly. You use you powers to soothe the water around you, not wanting anything to spook Jake. For now, he’s all yours.

____

taglist: @jallerentrags @huitzilinthebudgie3 @wintergirlsoilder2 @dreamerkim @jupitersmoon167 @n1ght5h4d3-24 @darkened-writer @sunipostsstuff @bex-tk1 @musicconversedance @nemtodd-barnes1923 @thegotfangirl @your-frenly-emo-rat @dadstarkblacksoul @certifiedhunter @tagakalat @galactic-galabee @yoongiwithglasses @theyaremorethanjustfictional @booksandbenbarnes @faefanatic @ness-is-vanillabean @lovesickollie @kemisuu @missdragon-1 @ristare @jck-r @brekkers-desigirl @irethepotato @1-800-vader @chaoticevilbakugo @fantasy-is-best @7minutes-tomidnight @slytherheign @heyitsaloy @cringerat @mrsspector-grant @iifloweringnightsii @alicetweven @michaelfuckinglangdon @hallecarey1 @netto-riley @0ctobersharks @d4td7ewmachine @sgt-morgan @grindeldorefanatic @thepurpleaccount @mul-pi @curvybihufflepuff @sammi-doll483

a/n #2: if ur highlighted i couldn't tag u for some reason :/ if u wanna be added pls comment on the series masterlist so i can keep all the requests in one place <3

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley #steven grant fluff #marc spector fluff #jake lockley fluff #moon knight fluff #moon knight x reader #chaos in us #moon knight #moon boys

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quaritching · 2 years ago

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Some Avatar 3 thoughts and predictions!!

The new Na’vi

I absolutely adore the concept of fire Na’vi, however I’m truly hoping and praying that they don’t stick with the name “Ash people”. I mean, we don’t call the Metkayina the “Water people” so I really don’t see the point. It just sounds lame

Considering the Metkayina differed in color because of their environment, I believe the fire Na’vi will as well! We have no real reference as to what their environment really looks like, but I imagine they’d be a darker or purplish blue (red and blue = purple, wink wink), or maybe just a dull, greyish blue! I think purplish blue would look cooler and make more sense aesthetically, but since they’re dubbed the “Ash people” it does make me think they’ll be a greyish blue

I also think their eyes would be a slightly reddish shade of orange! Perhaps their tails would lack the tuft of hair on the tip and they’d sport short hair styles or tie their hair up and away so they don’t catch fire

James Cameron mentioned that instead of only seeing the “bad side” of the humans and the “good side” of the Na’vi, we’d actually see the “bad side” of the Na’vi as well! I don’t think this is an original thought, but I believe the fire Na’vi are supposed to be the “bad side”, that in this movie we’ll get more Na’vi vs Na’vi action instead of the Na’vi vs Human action that we’ve seen in the two previous movies

The Sullys and the Metkayina

I read somewhere that even with the introduction of a new Na’vi type, we’ll still see plenty of the new characters that were introduced in ATWOW! Safe to say we’ll still see the sully kids and the main Metkayina people that were introduced to us. I hope we get to see them a little more grown up! Especially little Tuk!

As we all know, Spider saved Quaritch at the very end and did not tell anyone about it. While he did not actually kill Neteyam (that was Lyle), Quaritch takes the blame in their eyes for even hunting Jake and endangering his family to begin with. Neytiri and Lo’ak are definitely going to be angry, I’m not so sure if Kiri and Jake are gonna try to defend him but the betrayal is gonna hit them all hard for sure. It’s gonna be hard on Lo’ak especially since he was the one who went back to save Spider and dragged Neteyam with him, and then he later gets shot when they all try to flee. Out of all of them Kiri would be the one most likely to come to his defense, but who knows! Very very interesting I think!

While I don’t truly see this happening, if they were to bring Neteyam back I would hope it’d be as a Tulkun. Since Na’vi are “born twice” and energy is taken and returned (he was returned to the sea specifically), I could see it happening, but I honestly hope he just stays dead. If he were to be revived his death would feel meaningless. Sorry Neteyam stans but you know it’s true lol

I think it’s pretty obvious that Grace’s pregnancy was a gift from Eywa, and that Kiri has no real father. Like I said before, energy is taken and returned. Grace did not take energy from Eywa, but she gave her energy, herself, to Eywa when she died during the transfer ceremony. I think Eywa was returning the energy and that created Kiri! I’m very excited for Kiri to explore more of her connection to Eywa and Pandora in the next movie as well

Colonel Miles Quaritch

The real question is, How does Quaritch fit into all this since we know that he’s alive at the end of the movie? Here are some of the ideas I’ve had:

He does not go back to the RDA immediately, and instead finds himself struggling to survive in the wilderness of Pandora OR he goes back to the RDA and because of his massive failure, they throw him out and he has to learn how to survive on Pandora. I don’t think the second option is really possible though, I think the RDA would just kill him rather than let him go if it ever were to come down to that considering how dangerous he is to them, especially if he were to pull a Jake Sully

Whether or not he goes through the 1st scenario, he stumbles upon the fire Na’vi and finds a way to bring that force with him to fight Jake Sully and whoever he has backing him up. Full on Na’vi vs Na’vi, one side led by Jake and the other led by Quaritch. Raw as hell.

Redemption arc baby!! (This is gonna be a big one so hang on tight)

As we’ve seen in ATWOW, Recom Quaritch is not the same as his human counterpart. Recom Quaritch is basically a Na’vi shell with the inserted memories and personality of the human Colonel, and it is stated multiple times that Quaritch is not him ( e.g. “I’m not that man, but I do have his memories” and “[Spider’s] not your son” ).

Besides the literal difference, there’s many small things that Recom Quaritch does in this movie that I believe human Quaritch never would’ve done or bothered with. Quaritch shows an interest in being more Na’vi in order to better understand the enemy, like learning the language for example. This is not necessary, spider is more than capable of translating anything for them so Quaritch never truly had to learn Na’vi, but he tried regardless.

When the recom squad gets to the village to question the people about Jake Sully’s whereabouts, he listens to Spider’s plea and does not shoot the Tsahik, or anyone for that matter. The old Quaritch absolutely would’ve shot her, but Recom Quaritch orders their homes to be burned instead. He still has a mission to fulfill and he still needs to leave a message. Yes, it’s still a horrible thing to do but it’s objectively better than murder, they can rebuild their home but they cannot bring the dead back to life. It’s a subtle difference but I think it’s a really important one considering how Quaritch was more than happy to kill the Na’vi and destroy Hometree in the first movie (he basically enjoyed it if we’re being honest).

This could be argued, but he looked uncomfortable imo when they began to hunt the Tulkun. Recom Quaritch is very open with his emotions in this movie, it’s very obvious when he feels triumphant (like bonding with his Ikran) or when he feels conflicted/upset/frightened (Seeing his skull, watching cam footage of his death, and seeing Neytiri’s arrows). During the hunt, you can very clearly see Scoresby enjoying every minute, a stark contrast to how uninterested/uncomfortable Quaritch seemed to be. He even asks Scoresby if the Tulkun ever fight back, purely out of curiosity I think, but I also think that maybe a small part of him hoped that they would fight back. He has his own Ikran, he bonds with it through tsaheylu and knows how it feels, and I’d like to believe that’s started to change the way he sees the wildlife on Pandora, tulkun included. They hunt the tulkun basically as a last resort anyway, it’s not like Quaritch wanted to hunt them in the first place, it’s just something that he believes has to be done in order to lure out Jake since interrogating the villages was not working.

Another notable thing is that he sacrifices his last bit of leverage (Kiri) the moment he thinks Spider may die. He cares about Spider so much that he’s willing to be at a disadvantage in completing his revenge mission, a mission that is the whole reason for his current existence. He’s also at a physical disadvantage the moment he lets Kiri go because then he has nothing stopping both Jake AND Neytiri from attacking him. Quaritch also seemed upset/annoyed with the interrogation Spider went through and very quickly shut down the machine, claiming he wanted to try a different approach. It’s very hard for me to believe human Quaritch would’ve made these same decisions, he really only cared about saving humanity. Recom Quaritch cares about Spider, he cares about being a good father to him.

Something else that I noticed that I believe could be argued as well is that Quaritch never actually wanted to kill the kids, and to him they were simply a way to get to Jake. He puts a gun to Lo’ak’s head and tells Jake he’ll let his son go if he comes forward, and if he doesn’t he’ll kill Lo’ak. Whether or not he kills Lo’ak is irrelevant, even if he shot him Jake would’ve still went after him for killing his son. But Quaritch doesn’t do that, he waits for Jake to stroll on up. Payakan interrupts that as we know, so everything goes to shit and the fighting begins. Later when Tsireya tries to free Tuk, Quaritch simply throws her in the water instead of actually causing any harm or killing her. Again, when he later uses the comm he threatens the lives of Kiri and Tuk, telling Jake the deal is still on and he’ll let his daughters go if he offers himself up. Why not just kill them? There’s no reason to keep them alive, the only difference is Jake offering himself up semi peacefully or Jake coming at him with the intent to kill. Either way he would’ve had Jake coming to him, and human Quaritch doesn’t really seem like the type of person to just let “prisoners” go. Again this could definitely be argued, this is probably my least solid point towards his redemption lol

I definitely believe there’s a lot of potential for there to be a redemption arc of some sort with him, I don’t think he’ll be some saint or anything but he could definitely be a more neutral or anti-hero type of character. Stephen Lang even said that Quaritch is going to go more Na’vi or something in the next movie so this kindaaa makes me think the redemption arc is the most viable. Unless that means he’ll team up with the fire Na’vi? I suppose we’ll just have to see 👀

The RDA

Because it’s been heavily hinted that the fire Na’vi are going to be the main threat instead of the humans, that raises the question of what exactly are the RDA going to do now? How are they relevant?

I believe they’re simply going to lie low during the 3rd movie, trying to recuperate and rebuild after the heavy losses they took. They lost a lot of people, basically all the recoms (Minus Quaritch and possibly Lyle and Mansk since their deaths were not seen on screen), and the whole SeaDragon ship with all of its materials and deployables at the bottom of the sea

They’ll probably be back for the 4th movie, since we know how persistent they are and how desperate they are to colonize Pandora to save the rest of humanity. General Ardmore didn’t get a lot of time to shine in ATWOW, but if the RDA returns in the 4th movie I imagine she’ll have a bigger role and could possibly be the main antagonist like Quaritch was in the first movie

#avatar #avatar twow #avatar 3 #na’vi #jake sully #neytiri #neyetam #lo’ak #kiri #tukitrey #omatikaya #metkayina #spider socorro #miles quaritch #avatar predictions #my post #idk I just wanted to share my thoughts #imagine if I actually predicted something 💀

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hrodvitnon · 2 years ago

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Valentine’s prompt: Bio!Maddie takes Manda out on their second date, and this time she’s the one choosing where to go! Well, okay, maybe the options are limited by their size and nonhuman status (titans going on a date in a cafe or under a tree in the park? that’s gonna be hard) but she’ll still try something that’ll give him some rough idea of what human dating feels like. Because goodness, he’s both highly knowledgeable about human habits, but hilariously ignorant out of inexperience.

The most immediate challenge is, where can she take him? Tropical climates are Manda's usual haunt, so it might interest him to go someplace more "exotic" to a dragon living in the East China Sea; maybe Iceland? Ah, but that might be too cold for him (even if it would allow them ample opportunity for cuddles to keep warm). Someplace more temperate might be easier for Manda.

Ultimately she opts to take Manda over to Big Sur, California; it may not have an aurora borealis to paint his scales in rainbow magic and there's no full moon to be held in his antlers in the midst of a courtship display, but it's resplendent with mighty redwood forests, great green mountains, and a nice private beach for a couple to enjoy each other's company as they watch the sun set.

Manda takes a long whiff of the air; he seems a bit nostalgic as he inches close to the green-colored cliffs, probably remembering how he'd try exploring Yonaguni during infancy.

Do humans come here for dates as well? Manda chirps.

Some do! Madison huddles close to the cliffs, the vegetation giving her an element of camouflage, her mischievous side hoping to shock the shit out of any drivers crossing the nearby bridge. I've heard couples can hike in the woods and find remote waterfalls. Writers have come here in the past.

Secret places? How mysterious.

That definitely sounds like something Mama and Pa would do back when he still lived with them, the two belligerent Titans sneaking off someplace when they looked ready to either fight or... do something more intimate. He recalls Madison's last comment about writers.

When you say "writers," do you mean storytellers?

Yeah, either that or poets.

The tendrils along Manda's body undulate; Madison's come to recognize those particular motions as indicative of him having a sudden idea. She abandons her search for unsuspecting vacationers in favor of looking over her shoulder coquettishly at her serpentine beau.

Are you familiar with poetry, Manda?

Just a bit, from what Mama taught me! Would, ah... you like me to tell you one...?

Am I to be compared to a midsummer night's dream?

Manda doesn't get the reference, but the way his mouth quirks tells Maddie he might do just that. His nostrils flare as the breeze caresses them, his expression turning thoughtful as he slithers over. By reflex Madison extends an arm and his sinuous body flows smoothly over her palm. His head comes next to hers, and "speaks" in a lower tone than usual, reciting:

Like captured water You hold me in your cupped hands I flow in your palm

He finishes the haiku with an affectionate peck on Madison's cheek.

Madison suddenly goes quiet when Manda voices the question. Every now and then she's thought of what things would be like if they were a human couple; they could go on more traditional dates to coffee shops or the movies, make huge messes of the kitchen as they cook together, play games on the couch, buy each other chocolates on Valentine's Day...

She'd be able to embrace her father, pick up one of Ilene's daughters, give head pats to a dog going for a walk with its owner, get hot rice stuck to her fingers when making onigiri; she wouldn't have to pick through memories of what her old favorite foods taste like, how she used to take her coffee or if she went for energy drinks instead...

Madison?

Manda is watching her. His tendrils droop a little. God, why is she now getting lost in memories of what used to be? Of what can never be? Her eyes sting and she swallows hard.

I'm fine.

No, you're not. Did I say something wrong?

No, no, it's just... what if I'm abandoning the person I used to be? Madison stares down at her claws. There's so many things I can never do again. I can't even visit my friends or family without causing massive property damage! Oh god, everyone I know is... they'll be dead and gone before I know it! They're going to die and leave me behind!

Manda is silent while Madison feels her pulse begin to skyrocket and her heart hammers away, peripheral vision blurring. For a moment she forgets he's even there; she collapses against the cliff side and her breath quickens -- fuck, she's never had an episode this bad in so long -- what if...

Manda rests his elegant head on her stomach. Madison gasps for air. Slowly her heart rate settles down and and her breathing evens out, gratefully stroking a hand down his scales.

...I'm sorry. I really killed the mood, didn't I?

Maddie. Can you look at me?

She does, arrested by the care and patience in his amber eyes.

Remember the names of everyone you know. The people you've known since you were small, the people you've met since your change. You're right; one day they will die. One day. But not for a long time -- and as long as you remember them, they'll never be gone. The human you were is still there in turn, because they remember you. Understand?

...yeah. Madison manages to crack a small smile. When did you get so wise, huh?

Manda's nictitating membranes blink at her, and while his mouth can't smile like a human's, the way his eyes crinkle in the corners is just as good.

Now and then Mama would worry about the same, especially after Gran passed. She still remembers what it is to be human.

I guess you're used to comforting us balls of existential anxiety.

Because I chose you. Manda slithers up and rubs their heads together. There is no one else I would rather be with... so really, you're the one stuck with me.

The stabbing hurt from Madison's earlier attack has passed, replaced with something softer, a good sort of hurt. What did she do to deserve a boyfriend -- mate -- like him? As if sensing her relief, Manda gently coils himself around her in a full-body embrace.

#tardisspacemug #biollante!maddie #manda #mandazawa

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imagineyouandharry · 4 years ago

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Gypsophila (H.S)

Summary: Prince Harry has been under great pressure to find a wife, and he finds his Queen in a way far more unconventional than he could’ve imagined.

Words: 5,730

Warnings: It’s a bit strange I guess? Idk lol.

A/N: Someone requested a Prince!Harry au forever ago, and then I didn’t really have an opportunity to write for a while, and then this idea sprung up on me and I’ve been lost in this little au for the past few days. It’s like a little twisted fairytale, taking inspiration from Snow White and Sleeping Beauty mostly. Part two is already a work in progress. If people are interested I’ll even put out a little sort of world building lore post with a map of the kingdom etc (I’ve been in DEEP). This part is a bit choppy and barely edited because I was just so eager to write it and get something out, but I would really appreciate any constructive criticism and editing notes! TYSM!! Long story short, enjoy!!!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Harry Edward Styles did not believe in true love, in fact, he thought it was the most ridiculous idea ever. Harry’s certain he’s laid eyes upon every eligible young lady, from his kingdom and the ones surrounding, and he hadn’t felt a single thing when looking at any of them. He prayed every night that he would find his love the next day, and finally be able to put his parents out of their misery and ascend to the throne. At the age of 27, Harry’s the oldest person in his family to not be married, no one every waited this long in the royal family. He would’ve had an arranged marriage at 21, though when his parents suggested that he ran away on a sailing ship for two months. One thing was clear to him: though he may not have experienced love yet, he wasn’t going to ruin his chances at true by being forced into a loveless marriage. It wasn’t only Harry’s parents, but the entire kingdom that woke each day hoping to hear that their Prince had found his Queen. They referred to Harry as the Good Prince, his subjects adored him, and lived for his acts of charity and selflessness, and they only hoped he would find a Queen that would treat them the same.

Harry’s outlook on love changed however, after his most recent hunting trip. Sundays are for family and hunting, that’s what Harry was always told. No day was for Harry, he’d come to learn that. Living under a microscope meant for very little alone time, and almost no guilt-free alone time. He and his hunting party rode across the fields and out to the dense forest surrounding the kingdom, and over the two hour journey Harry found himself agitated with the topics of conversation going on around him. He wanted a break, tired of everyone only ever speaking about royal duties or politics. Harry had discovered a fresh water lake if he went off the trail, and when he realised they were edging closer to his favourite place he decided to excuse himself with the excuse of needing to fill his canteen.

The natural spring was a hidden treasure indeed. Harry’s entire kingdom was cut off from the rest of the world due to the thick forestland surrounding it. There was only one trail in, and one trail out, and even then only experienced riders were able to make the journey. The end of the trail, in the deep of the forest, was also often lined with thieves and outcasts making it not the safest journey. This spring wasn’t necessarily hard to find, however thick trees that lined the main trail hid the spring, the gorgeous wild flowers, and clearing of soft grass either side. Harry tied his horse to his usual tree, softly parting the bushes careful to not cause any permanent damage, and stepped his way through. His kingdom was full of hidden treasures like this, tucked away in places only to be found by those adventurous enough.

The sound of the running water was most prominent, however the closer he walked to the spring, the more he could hear a faint, delicate singing voice. Harry couldn’t recognise the song, but it was one he’d never forget now. It felt as though his heart dropped in his stomach, and he had to lightly scratch his arm on a branch to double check he hasn’t died and was hearing an angel of heaven sing to him. He walked closer, with quiet footsteps so not to disturb the singing. He knelt down to the edge of the spring and began to fill his canteen, looking around his eyes eventually focused on the source of his siren, standing in the clearing over the other side of the spring as she picked a bouquet of dainty flowers. Lavender, daisies, bellflowers, poppies. Her body was dressed in sage green, the simple dress showed she definitely was not from a wealthy family, but it was simple and beautiful in its own way. Perhaps she sewed it herself, it did look as if it were made for her. He could see her hair shine from here, and the features of her side profile were striking him even from a distance. She didn’t look real. The strange girl across the spring looked ethereal, like her beauty was too surreal for this planet. Had he hit his head? Was he seeing a forest fairy? He hadn’t even realised the staggering increase in his heart rate as he watched the girl, and listened.

He lost track of how long he had been watching her for, snapped out of his daydream when he heard a “Your Royal Highness! We must be getting on!” Harry heard shouting at him from a distance, most likely back where he had tied his horse. The girl had heard the faint noise and her eyes shot in Harry’s direction. His cheeks flushed with heat as their eyes met only for a brief second, before she ran away. The eye contact brought a slight curve to his lips, although she was leaving, at least he got another good look at her.

“Wait!” He called as he stood up, his hand and canteen dripping wet. His eyes softened as she simply left, looking back briefly in her stride, but he’d blown it. “God fucking damn it.” He cursed under his breath as he began to trudge back to his horse, his feet weighing heavy on the ground.

That was the most he’d ever felt, looking at the stranger across the lake singing as if it were for him, and he couldn’t help but feel like he’d just lost his future Queen. Half of him wanted to wade through the water and run after her, but Harry wasn’t a often disobedient Prince, when one of his parents or advisors told him to jump, his usual response would be “how high?” It’s ironic how for someone who’s whole life depends on finding his future Queen is given so little time to actually explore a social life, or love life himself. He was always set up with suitors who his parents found best. In the rare times he’s able to sneak away he’d gotten around, and most definitely wasn’t a virgin, but he’d never found a girl who had made him feel the way he wanted to feel about his future queen. He only wanted to please his family, and his realm, but this was the one thing where he refused to compromise.

Y/N was as far away from a future queen as it could come, or at least that’s what her step-mother wanted everyone to think. The entire town hoped to marry their daughters off to the elusive Good Prince Harry, however her step-mother only wanted her biological daughters to have that chance. When Y/N’s father passed away her step-mother sent her out to live as a recluse in a tiny cottage in the woods, she had always feared that her beauty would distract future husbands away from her actual daughters, and didn’t want to ruin their chance of being married. Each Sunday she drops Y/N off the supplies she needs, but that was the only human contact she was given. It wasn’t too bad, she managed to keep herself busy with sewing, baking, or whatever other art or craft she could think of and had the materials for. It was lonely though, and she was ultimately alone.

Well, if you don’t count forest fairies. Y/N hated being outcast into the forest, and spent most of her early months in the cottage crying to whatever wild animal she could find that day that would stick around long enough. Eventually, these wild animals started bringing their fairy friends along with them. They would spend their days with Y/N tending to fruit and vegetable gardens, watering plants, having picnics, and making daisy chains. Her life was simple, and although not one she asked, it was one she was growing fond of. Male company was something she could only imagine and long for, or read about in story books. There were dozens of fairies living in the forest, but she’d become particularly close to a group of some of the female fairies.

Each Sunday before her step mother visits, Y/N will pick her step mother a bouquet of flowers in attempt to win her over, in hopes maybe one day her sweetness will earn her way back into town. Y/N had total obliviousness towards her step mother’s plan, and towards what was going on in the city. This year, any woman over the age of 21 was to present herself to the Prince. Y/N’s 21st birthday fell on the day she was scheduled to be presented to the Prince. The letter had been delivered shortly before she was sent away to the forest, Y/N never laid her eyes upon it though. The letter outlined the royal guard would be coming to collect anyone who failed to present themselves on the day, and to Y/N’s step mother that meant the only option was to make it so Y/N never turned 21, or made it to her birthday for that matter.

Seeing the Prince most definitely did spook Y/N during that day in the field, if her step mother ever found out she’d had contact with a male there was no chance she’d ever be allowed to move back home. She did all she could think to do. She ran. She ran so fast that the petals of the flowers she had picked were ruined in her haste, quickly shutting herself inside the cottage to gather herself before her routine afternoon visit from her step mother. Sure she knew of men to be dangerous and terrible, but she feared her step-mother’s wrath more than anything any man could put her through.

Like any other Sunday, she scrubbed the house and dressed herself in whatever new garment she had stitched herself this week. The fairies had been busy this week and she’d had a great deal of time to herself, embroidering colourful flowers into the soft white linen of the new dress she had made. Her step-mother would bring her fabric and thread to sew dresses for her step sisters. It was something to be proud of, but most likely would be over looked. Little was said upon her step-mother’s arrival, but her character seemed off. Her step-mother’s eyes darted around, checking windows as she insisted on making the two of them tea. Y/N sat down at the small dining table, recounting tales of her week, ensuring to leave out anything about fairies or a boy. She watched a small bunny outside the window, forgetting to speak as awe overwhelmed her whilst she watched its tiny nose twitch. Her daydream came to an end when the sound of the ceramic mug hit the hard wood of the coffee table. “Drink while it’s warm, my love.” Her step-mother told her, sitting down in the seat at the head of the table beside Y/N. It wasn’t long after that that Y/N hit the floor, and her step-mother was shrouding herself in a hooded coat and sneaking out of the tiny cabin.

Elsie, a fairy most close to Y/N, who specialises in healing, came to the conclusion that she was only out for about six hours before the fairies found her. They did all they could over the following weeks to bring her back to life, trying as many possible rituals, potions, and spells to give life to her body once more. Nothing was of use though, and instead they decided to preserve her in a glass case in the clearing amongst the wildflowers. She had professed to them that the clearing by the spring had been her favourite place, so they saw this fit. Preserving her in the glass case was simply because the idea of her beauty decaying away made any of the fairies shriek. Fairies never communicated with humans, however Y/N was different. Elsie had always theorised that Y/N had magic in her blood. Amongst the many spells and rituals they tried to bring Y/N back, they threw in a spell that would hopefully bring her back with true love’s kiss. It was like a safety net, or a ‘what if?’ But they eventually tired and wore out, preserving her was well enough for now. They kept her dressed in the new dress she had crafted for herself, it was so beautiful after all. They had placed tiny baby’s breath flowers throughout her hair, and made sure everything was perfect. They even went as far to adorn her in delicate gold jewellery, with beautiful crystals of all colours. Her body rested upon a large rectangular slab of rose quartz.

****

Harry was dreading sitting in the throne room, while all the eligible females from the town were presented to him like livestock. It made him sick, and left a terrible taste in his mouth. All he could think of was the girl from the clearing. Is she a sign? Is he his ticket out of here? Was seeing her fate? Questions like that simmered over his mind and kept him awake at night, he had been sleeping little and finding it hard to focus on his duties. His best friend Niall was he closest confidant, the only one he had told about the beautiful girl in the clearing that day. Niall cared more for Harry than anyone, really. He didn’t just care about his fame or power or wealth, Harry was his best friend and he hated seeing his best mate so down about his love life and the pressure to marry a woman he doesn’t love. He made it his mission to find the woman, and his detective work lead him down a path he didn’t expect at all. First he went to the clearing where Harry filled his water in the spring, that was where he first noticed something over the other side of the spring that he couldn’t quite make out. He followed the spring and found an area narrow enough to cross, making his way to the structure he’d seen earlier. He didn’t know what to make of this discover, a dead girl in a glass coffin. ‘Forever at rest, only to be woken by true love’s kiss’ read an inscription on a gold plaque. He really didn’t know what to make of this. He didn’t know what to tell Harry.

Sweat lingered Niall’s brow as he made his way back to the castle to find Harry, to tell him of his discovery. “Look… I just need you to come with me and tell me what you think when we’re there.” Niall tells him, his voice somewhat breathless. Niall himself was still in disbelief, shock, his eyes wide as he shook his head. “I just- I don’t know what to tell you. You need to see it for yourself.” He adds.

Harry nods. “I’ll come immediately.” Harry tells him, his trust for Niall outweighing anything else going on in his head. Together they rode to the forest, crossed the narrow part of the spring, and towards where Niall had discovered Y/N.

“Is this the girl you were talking about?” Niall asks, however when he looks from the girl to Harry, he knows the answer. Harry couldn’t help but fall to his knees, pressing his palms against the glass as he looked inside. He noticed how long her eyelashes looked, and the freckles on her nose. His nose was almost touching the glass as he leant here on his knees at the side of her, taking her in up close.

“What happened to you?” He whispers, his eyebrows knitting together. Niall gives him a moment before he decides to mention the plaque at the foot of the structure.

“It uh, says something weird about being awoken by true love’s kiss. I don’t know if it’s true, and it’s revolting to think you would kiss a dead body for nothing, but someone has put her here. Someone made this. My grandmother in her old age would mutter stories about forest fairies and their magic… It just makes you wonder, you know?” He ponders, his eyes wandering away. It felt silly to bring up magic, it was something very commonly dismissed.

“Help me get this off.” Harry said as he brought himself from the ground, the soft grass had left green stains on his tan riding pants. He pushed the sleeves of his white linen button down up past his elbows, and the two men carefully lift the heavy glass case up off of the rose quartz Y/N had been resting on. It wasn’t easy, and the glass at the bottom dug into Harry’s fingers before they set the glass piece of the structure down on to the grass. “Alright. Here we go.” Harry said, in attempt to psych himself up for kissing a dead girl. She didn’t look dead though, just sleeping, you could only tell she was dead due to the missing rising and fall in her chest with her breath. “I might start walking back to the horses, give you some privacy.” Niall said, giving him a slight smile. He also didn’t really want to witness someone kiss a dead person, if she didn’t end up waking up.

“Good luck. Take your time.” He adds, part of him had no doubt it was going to work though. The stories his grandmother would tell him of the forest fairies were something he’d always held on to, those stories were amongst his most treasured memories. He’d always had some hope.

Harry waited until he could no longer hear Niall’s footsteps before he leant down close to Y/N, brushing a strand of hair back behind her ear. He took a moment, if this never worked it was going to be the last time he’d ever see her. He couldn’t fathom coming back to this spot if this didn’t work. His heart began to ache at the thought, it made his chest feel tight, and gave him the urge to rub at the spot.

“I really hope you’re who I think you are.” He whispers as he looks down at her. “This might seem like absolute madness. I don’t even know your name, but if you wake up for me, I swear to you I will be yours forever.” He began, to Harry this almost did feel like a ritual, it felt special, and the words he was speaking were amongst the most genuine he’d ever given life to. “I promise, I will protect you. I will provide for you. I will love you. I will never, ever harm you. I will love you until my very last breath, I just need you to do this one thing for me.” His voice was barely a whisper now, and breaking as hot tears welled in his eyes. He very carefully leant down, pressing his warm, puffy lips against her cold, smooth ones. He didn’t know how long to wait, but it didn’t feel wrong. It was a sweet, tender kiss. His eyes closed, and he felt at peace. It felt more than at peace. The long grass, wildflowers, and tree branches that surrounded them began to stir with wind, petals floating up into the gusts that took them. This girl had a tendency to make him feel like he’s dead and in heaven. Her lips slowly began to warm, and skin began to glow with heat. It felt like they were floating, as if the universe was made up of just the two of them. The flowers beneath him began to grow taller and more dense, and it began to feel like his heart was pulling towards hers. It felt like a tether had been formed, connecting their energy, he could feel as her heart began to pump blood again, and her energy radiate from her skin. It felt too surreal.

Slowly, Harry removed his lips to allow Y/N to breathe. He let a hand lay gently resting on her cheek as he watched her gasp for her first new breath, eyes shooting open as she looked up at him. It wasn’t shock she was met with when her eyes met Harry’s, but peace. The luminous green eyes that were gazing down upon her were like lighthouses, guiding her towards safety. So many questions began to race her mind as she came to reality, unable to decide which one to ask first. As if based on intuition, Harry decided to speak. “I uh- I’m not too sure what happened to you but my friend found you here today and brought me to you. I believe I saw you a few weeks ago, in the same spot. I’m not sure how long you’ve been out here, but there was this little plaque at the end of this thing here, that said something about a kiss to wake you up… I’m sorry for kissing you without your consent, but I couldn’t risk not taking this chance.” He didn’t mean to ramble or to overwhelm her with his spiel, but he was overwhelmed himself with everything that had just gone on. True love’s kiss. His queen. His true love. The other half of his soul, in human form. Y/N’s lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. She closed them once more as she sat up and looked around, swinging her legs off the side of the marble before looking back up to Harry. Her movement had disconnected his hand from her face, and they both longed for each other’s touch once more already. Her eyes began to well with tears as she began to think about how she got here, her last memories.

“I can only assume how overwhelming this must all be for you… We can stay here as long as you need, it’s just us. When you feel ready for it, I can take you back to my home and we can get you showered and fed. I don’t mean you any harm.” Harry doesn’t even need to add that last sentence though, because she can feel it. She can feel his love for her, she could almost hear it if she listened closely enough, as if his heart was now beating a song for her.

Harry stood back, as if to give the doe eyed girl some space. She looked at him as if he was the most precious treasure on Earth, he’d never felt so overwhelmed with love. This was followed by her delicate hands reaching out, taking ahold of his as she brought herself to stand in front of him. “Is it alright if you hold me for a second?” She asked softly, needing time to process things.

It had been so long since she had been touched affectionately, she couldn’t really remember it. Her father was never affectionate, nor her step mother or step sisters or anyone else she’d met. She felt comfortable with the stranger in front of her though, and didn’t have the energy to resist the magnet like force pulling her towards him.

“Of course.” He responds, his voice soft as he wraps his arms gently around her frame, pulling her into his warm figure. Harry was like the perfect, giant teddy bear… but he wasn’t really that soft. Pressed against him she could feel how chiseled his features are. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she relaxed into him, cheek against the skin of his chest kindly revealed by the first few buttons of his shirt being undone. “What’s your name?” He asks, tangling his fingers in her hair to lightly rub his fingertips against the tender skin at the back of her neck.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Yours?” She asks, looking up to the tall, broad man.

“Harry.” He decides on leaving out his royal title or last name.

“Just Harry?” She asks, her eyebrows raising.

“For now. We have plenty of time to talk about me later.” He notes, removing the same rogue strand of hair as before from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. It was almost as if her hair had a life of its own, breathing, like the other flora growing in the forest. He had noticed the baby’s breath in her hair, though her hair moved, they remained in the same places, as if growing out of their place on the strand of hair. “What do you last remember?” He asks, needing to know if whatever put her in eternal sleep had been by accident, or as an act of malice. She looks back away from his face, resting her cheek once more against his chest.

“My step-mother, Styephania came over, she made me tea. That’s all I can really remember.” She said, unable to stop the disappointed sigh from escaping her lips. Maybe she’d had a freak health accident, like a stroke. Just because she’d been mistreated by her step mother her whole life, didn’t mean she was capable of murder. She knew her step mother didn’t put her out here though, this was the work of fairies. They were looking on, hiding in the bushes as they stood witness to young love blossom in front of them, not wanting to disturb the two of them. “I look crazy, and it sounds crazier saying this, but I’m certain the forest fairies are responsible for looking after me and putting me here. The day she came over was the day I think you saw me here, and I’m not sure how I’m meant to feel but I don’t feel like I’ve been a dead body since then. I feel like no time has passed at all.” Harry avidly listened to her speak, her voice like caramel, seeping in his ears and warming his whole body. Harry wasn’t phased by her mentioning fairies, Niall had suspecting this being their work earlier. It was the only explanation Harry could think of. He couldn’t understand why her step mother would leave her here, why she wouldn’t find her help.

He didn’t want to worry his sweet girl now, he wanted to make sure she felt alright, safe, and cared for. His grip on her wasn’t too tight, but firm in a comforting way. “The plaque… It mentioned how you’d only be woken by true love’s kiss.” He figured the longer he waited to tell her the stranger it would be. His cheeks were red, as if embarrassed or ashamed to tell her about the plaque, how strange it all was. Her eyes met his, and the connection gave him whiplash. He couldn’t peel his eyes away, getting lost in the little pools. He wanted to know everything about her, what she liked, disliked, what she ate for breakfast, her favourite songs, flowers, secrets. Everything.

“I don’t know if I know what love feels like. The only men I’ve spoken to are all twice my age. I wasn’t really allowed to see boys. You’re definitely much, much more beautiful than I would’ve imagined a man to be, and I’m certain that my heart is literally beating for you now, since you woke me.” She tells him, the descriptions of heroes in stories she would read, or how she would imagine the older men to look when they were younger, were incomparable to Harry. The compliment made his cheeks flush. With each beat of her heart, it was as if it was pulling her closer to Harry, calling out for him, begging for him to love on her and soothe the ache in her chest.

“How has God made something so sweet?” He mumbles, he hadn’t even realised he’d said it out loud at first. “You’re breath taking. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes upon, and trust me when I say I’ve seen a lot of them. Even from far away, the first time I saw you… You make me nervous. You make my heart race, and my palms sweat, and I get butterflies in my stomach and nervous when I think about saying the wrong thing or not having you like me. It’s as if you’ve been carved by God himself, like he was showing off when he made you so beautiful. I wish I’d met you sooner.” Those last words burn his throat, how easier the last few years would have been if he had just been able to find her sooner.

*****

Harry sent Niall back to the castle first, having him instruct everyone to clear out the path that the Prince and his soon to be queen would take to his suite, he didn’t want to spook her with people around. The guards had to stay though, non-negotiable. He also had Niall ensure the doctor was on standby, just to check on Y/N and stay in the castle over the upcoming weeks in case anything else happened. Security was going to be increased, and tightened, and a warrant put out for her step mother.

The two hour horseback ride to the castle would give them well enough time to get to know each other, Harry and Niall had also switched horses, Niall’s being the slower of the two. “I don’t want to startle you when we get there. I also don’t know how to really tell you this. I’m in the royal family, so the guards and whatnot are something to just be ignored. They’re for your protection. I don’t know if you heard much of what I was telling Niall earlier, but you’re going to be very safe here, and we’ll find out what happened. I’ll look after you, I promise.” His eyes are ahead as he speaks, looking over the vast green fields ahead of them once they eventually emerged from the forest.

“Still just Harry, to me.” She reassured, sensing his nerves about revealing this information to her. His shoulders relaxed at her reaction, and a smile formed on his lips when his mind began to wander into what their future may be like. His queen.

“Hey, one day that’ll be King Harry to you.” He joked, thankful that it was received with a laugh. Her laughter was almost as sweet as her songs, and for the rest of the journey he made it his mission to mine as many possible laughs out of her as he could, like little nuggets of treasure. After making their way through the fields that lined the forest, they went down a long road that served as a divide between two of the castle’s towns, and at the end of that road just past a small valley of mountains was a sight far more glorious than Y/N had imagined. Her village was a small village that contained mostly candlemakers and dressmakers, and it sat further to the east, people only ever going out there to purchase fine candles and clothing. It was niche though, and not many could afford the fineries the master crafters in her village would create. Y/N hadn’t even really seen a home larger than a cottage, Harry’s castle looked large enough as if it could contain its own little world, a complete wilderness of towers surrounded by fine gardens, protected by a large moat with a standalone drawbridge. Harry didn’t even need to announce himself, the drawbridge was already in the process of being lowered for him.

“I had Niall clear our path, I don’t want to overwhelm you. I’ll introduce you to everyone when you’re ready.” Harry reassures her, she hadn’t even thought of anyone else though, too in awe of the sights around her. Flowers she’d never seen before laced these gardens, with fine marble sculptures and fountains protruding from them.

“I can’t believe this is your home.” Y/N whispers, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Your home too, if you’d like.” Harry replies, though his words immediately shrouded him with nerves about rushing Y/N into anything. It was stupid, they were each other’s true love’s, but it felt wrong being strangers, so Harry tried his best to conceal things. He’d never been in a conventional relationship before, never mind whatever this arrangement is or was going to be. He just knew he wasn’t meant to rush things, so he tried to refrain from expressing his feelings as best as he could. Her arms around his waist tightened, Y/N needing to feel as close to Harry as possible. He held the reins in one hand, the other arm resting over hers around his stomach, holding on to her arm to make sure she couldn’t let go.

“I’d like that.” Y/N reassures, gently rubbing his side to soothe him. Harry was too caught up in his own feelings to pay attention to how calm Y/N was. She could feel his anxiety though, and continued to try to soothe him as best she could. Y/N knew very little about Harry so far, but what she did know was that he was kind, caring, and had a lot of worries. She’d never been a worrisome person, and if anything would even refer to herself as naive, it was something she’d always been almost ashamed of but in this moment felt like maybe she’d been made to be by Harry’s side. Y/N liked the idea of spending her days being Harry’s rock, a voice of reason. She’d rather a man like this than one who had no emotions, that was for sure. It could’ve been whatever was now eternally bonding them, but she swears she was feeling his emotions, able to see his aura if she really studied hard enough. She sunk into him some more, her arms around his waist, cheek resting against his back. Harry made sure to take it extra slow, giving his love enough time to appreciate the flowers. She seemed to like flowers, and his mother took pride in this being the most beautiful garden amongst all of the kingdoms. He couldn’t wait to show her all the fineries that came with his life.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #Prince!Harry #harry styles au #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #new writter #writeblr #fanfic #fantasy #high fantasy #prince

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whaleofatjme1920 · 4 years ago

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The Ends of Hallways (Proxies X F!Reader)

The Ends of Hallways

[Proxies X F!Reader]

[Warnings: slight language]

[AN: Y'all are just gonna have to thank Eris for always sending me the best requests. I don't have favorites,,, but Reader, I have favorites. Also no Kate sorry :( ]

Your face was practically squished against the glass of the car Hoodie had stolen as the four of you pull into the parking lot of woods that brim with the Operator’s energy. You’ve never seen these woods in person - only in dreams. You’ve never even really seen your master in person, once again, like these woods, he too has been confined to your dreams. But you hear him, and often. His voice falls down on your ears like gentle rains that fall from the heavens. He is everything and more. That is why it is so exciting for you to finally be here, so close to him, and to his presence.

“You excited?” You hear your group leader ask.

You nod and press harder up against the glass. “Are we going now?” You’re ready to bounce out of the car and everyone can see that.

He chuckles in response. “What do you think Hood? Time to go?”

The hazel eyed man behind him shoots the driver a look. “Masky, just look at her, she’s gonna break the window if we don’t.” There’s a slight playfulness in his tone that tells you the right hand really isn’t annoyed with you.

“Fair enough,” Masky smiles. He then reaches behind his seat, hand slapping at who used to be the runt’s knee. “Tobes? Tob-Tobes, get up.”

Toby’s eyes shoot open as he lurches forward. “I’m u-u-up, I-I’m u-up,” he yawns as his hands rub tiredly at his eyes. “Are w-w-we here a-alaready?” He asks, the exhaustion still clear in his tone.

Both of the men in the front seats nod. “C’mon, let’s get going,” Hoodie says as he pulls up the lock on his car door before sliding out.

You wait impatiently for Masky to unlock the car then zip out like a bat from hell. You’re immediately at the edge of one of the forest’s many trails and taking in the sights and sounds of your boss’s woods. They’re beautiful, really. The autumn colors bathe the woods in fiery oranges and passionate reds with threads of gold to interlock it all together. The sky is just the slightest shade of blue as clouds cover the sun. There weren’t any people here either - not under the little structures, not exploring, not anyone but you and your comrades.

“Wrong one,” Hoodie says as he closes the trunk to the car before tossing a backpack to Toby, who catches it like second nature.

You whip your head around to see that Masky, Hoodie and Toby are smiling at how excited you are before silently asking you to follow them. “Where are we going?” You ask, eyes wide as you jog up to them.

“Across the field. There’s this cool tunnel of trees we think you’ll appreciate,” Masky replies as he leads his group across the grass. It crunches slightly as the four of you move, like it hasn’t been watered in a long time.

“R-Really?” Toby hums as he puts his hands in his pockets. “You s-s-sure we’re n-not gonna be l-late?” The young proxy gives a slight look to his group leader, eyebrow raised as if he’s sure the Operator is okay with them possibly being tardy.

Masky shakes his head before tapping his temple with his free hand, “he told me it’s okay.”

“He did?” You ask as stars cloud your eyes. The Operator, as you’ve heard so far, is to be feared and respected. He’s like a father you can look at but never touch. He seems so out of your range, like he’s not even visible - not even if you squint your eyes. You wonder what makes you so… interesting… in his eyes. You really don’t think you’re worth all the fuss. Clearly he does.

Masky chuckles before ruffling your hair with his hand, “yeah. I think he finds your enthusiasm endearing.” Masky’s not entirely incorrect. When they first got Toby, the Operator was strangely favorable towards the young proxy as well - maybe because he was hand plucked, special, and therefore deemed worthy of his time. You were similar to Toby, albeit, you accidentally got involved with the Operator. He liked you, chose you, then kept you.

Hoodie whistles slightly as the four of you step into the trees, his gloved hand reaching up to tear off a branch from one of the low hanging trees then swing it aimlessly as his side. “Seems pretty obvious in my opinion,” he whacks Toby lightly with the stick making said proxy laugh. “Looks like Toby isn’t the only golden child anymore.”

“P-Probably not,” Toby hums, a slight melancholy coming into his tone. “Think I-I’ve been losing f-f-favor with h-hin for a w-while.” He glances over his shoulder and smiles at you.

You frown slightly and place your hand on his shoulder, “I don’t think so,” you say. “Just means he has two golden child-s now.”

Toby beams.

You do too.

The group continues to move through the trees, mostly silent save for Masky and Hoodie pointing out little memories from time to time. Things such as some guy named ‘Alex’ chasing them through here, Masky’s waking up with no memory, Hoodie’s nature shots, and everything in between. You learn a lot about the hands of your group from when they were just scared film students to the things they’ve done as proxies here. It’s kind of nice as you’ve never really spoken to them this way before.

When you first came into this life and were placed in this group, the hazing process kicked in like wildfire. Almost every day was a mentally or physically, sometimes both, a draining task and a bonding agent. Authority was not to be questioned and they made that more than clear. Eventually, the hazing grew lighter and lighter until it just… didn’t exist. That was how it went - you were no longer considered naive and starry eyed. Still, authority was not to be questioned, and it’s why you and your comrades have never really talked on this specific level before.

It’s why it’s such a treat that you get to talk to them like this now.

Eventually, the four of you make it to an odd stretch of trees. They tunnel over each other, a lot like a thorny funnel, but they frame the sky so well.

“If the sun was setting,” Masky starts. “It would look like a cradle.”

You take a step back and observe the tunnel of trees, trying to imagine the setting sun. The mental image is pretty. “Will we ever be back here to see it?”

“Oh definitely,” Masky continues. “But uh, the business we’re here for today? Don’t know if that’s meant for anyone but me and maybe Hoodie.”

You look on instinct to Hoodie who nods. “Is that normal?”

“Sure is,” Hoodie says as he takes in the scent of the cooling autumn woods. He knows the group is almost to the limits of the Operator’s realm. “Tell me what you feel right now, Reader,” he says in passing as he flicks the stick somewhere off the given trail.

With a glance around at your surroundings, you attempt to get a feel for the area you’re in. It’s cold, much colder, but the atmosphere still feels a little thick. The further you go into the woods (and by extension the Operator’s bounds to which you don’t even know exist yet), you get that odd feeling in your legs that feels like they’ve fallen asleep. It’s like the physical sensation of static. You try to explain it in words, but they fail. Instead, you allow Hoodie into your thoughts.

“Nice,” he smiles. “Alright, try to ask for permission in.”

“I need to ask for permission?”

“E-Everytime,” Toby begins as he and the others pause. They’re right on the edge of the bubble and can feel it so much stronger than you can. “It’s t-to ensure n-normal humans c-can’t come in,” Toby begins to explain as you gaze around your surroundings, wondering how you’ll even begin to ask. “T-Though, their f-feelings sometimes k-kick into o-overdrive and they e-end up p-piercing through the v-veil on a-a-accident.” He chuckles softly and you know exactly what he’s referring to - you’ve heard tales of the people who get stuck wandering where they shouldn’t: always ends in someone strung up in the pines. “W-We’ve all learned t-to ask p-permission like b-breathing.”

You shoot your comrade a confused glance, wondering what that will mean for you. “I just ask?”

“Kind o-of,” Toby says. “Just l-let your f-f-feelings guide you. She’ll t-t-tell you whether you’re a-a-allowed in or not.”

You close your eyes and begin to hone in on whatever your heart is telling you. It’s a cold feeling, mostly like vines that slip up and down your limbs as they grow upwards and then inwards towards your heart. It’s an odd feeling. Once the static vines pierce through your heart, you physically see a fog roll into the forest around you. It consumes you and your comrades before you remember Toby mentioned ‘she.’ The fog thickens. “Wait, she?” You say as the static begins to leave your system. It feels like you’re tearing through roots as you walk forward.

“He didn’t mean it,” Masky quickly replies as he begins to pull you through the fog. “Good job on asking though. Strong response,” he says as gestures to the fog, his hand swimming through the billowy clouds. “Wives’ tale is the stronger the fog, the more genuine you were in response.”

You wade your fingers through the thick fog as you and the others walk forward, deeper and deeper into the darkness where there was none. “Must’ve had a really genuine response, huh?” You mumble to yourself. The fog doesn’t even feel like normal fog - it feels thick and heavy and leaves slight dew on your clothing as you walk. How interesting.

‘Head talk from here on out,’ Hoodie says as the four of you reach a stretch of woods that feels slightly dangerous.

‘Did you feel it too?’ Toby asks, his hand at his hatchet.

Hoodie nods slightly, his eyes narrowing as he slows his pace so he’s guarding the back. He gives you a slightly concerned look as the fog evens out. Everyone but you knows that they’re in perhaps one of the most dangerous parts of the veil. The Operator’s mere presence is usually enough to deter the things like the Rake from his grounds, but that often means they get trapped here - in the in-between - and lash out on the first thing they sense. The sooner the four of you get out of this dangerous spot, the better.

‘What do you sense?’ You ask, cutting mentally through the rough silence, your own hand moving to your blade.

Hoodie looks like he’s about to answer you before he holds his fist up and the other three of you duck down instantly, dipping below the fog. Just then, some deer begin walking past.

‘Deer?’ You say in a questioning tone.

‘Not just any deer,’ Hoodie begins as the deer slowly nibbles on the leaves and other things. ‘Take a good look at their bodies. They look normal to you?’

You narrow your eyes slightly and get used to peering through the fog as the deer pass. Eventually, you’re able to look at their coats. There’s something off about them, something wrong. Something you can’t quite place. The longer you watch them as they move in front of you, the stronger that off feeling gets. They have every physical part of the deer down but it’s just not right. It’s like their joints don’t fit well beneath their skin. And their eyes… Their eyes are completely hollow.

‘You see it?’ Masky asks as the last of the deer passes by. He glances over his shoulder briefly to see you nod. ‘We’re lucky they didn’t change this time,’ he mumbles, slowly inching forward while crouched against the earth.

‘What would’ve happened if they changed?’ You inquire, moving quietly alongside your comrades.

‘Nightmare fuel,’ Toby finally pipes in. ‘Nothing about them looks right. Big mouths full of sharp teeth, black eyes, too many limbs, like a messed up centipede,’ he finishes, a slight shudder coming into his mental tone.

You notice the other two of your group members nodding in agreement before finally deeming it safe enough to stand up and finally exit the in-between of the veil.

You’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful, rustic looking Germanic mansion surrounded by iron gates that hold honeycomb patterns that trail skywards only to end on sharp peaks that you’re almost certain your boss has spiked people on plenty of times. There’s also flowers of every kind in the front gardens that catch your eyes the moment you step through the grand gates. There’s fountains and topiaires, statues and benches that tell you the Operator drips with style and elegance.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Masky smiles.

You nod, “it’s gorgeous.” The air smells slightly expensive, but mostly sweet. How is it that a place like this can even possibly exist? Around the mansion are autumnal trees, mostly maple, some sycamore and other birch. Scattered on the front lawn are other proxies and some independents, mostly catching up and talking before leaving through the same gates you entered from. Some of them smile and wave as they pass you, others grunt and turn their nose up at you upon realizing you’re the youngest. This place sings with the Operator’s overwhelming presence.

Your comrades continue to watch your amused expression as they lead you to the front doors of the mansion. They’re large and stained glass, slightly gothic in woodwork and tower over you.

“Go ahead,” Hoodie chuckles as he nods for you to open the doors.

You glance back to him, then at the large doors before tentatively placing your hands on their surface. With a small breath, you push them open and find yourself greeted to the most exquisite foyer you’ve ever seen. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling, sapphires and rubies drip from the fixtures and shine the light beautifully across the marble floors. Gold leaf adorns almost everything that juts out while the huge staircase in front of you beckons you forward.

“Doesn’t seem like he needs us yet,” Masky says as he checks his watch. “Got here earlier than expected, huh?” He lightly ribs Hoodie who rolls his eyes in response. “C’mon, let’s go to the sun room. Don’t wanna wait around in here.” He nods for the three of you to follow.

Toby clears his throat slightly as if to remind the two in charge that you’re still very much here and new.

“Oh, right,” Masky says. “Reader, this is super important, so listen up,” your group leader begins as he turns on his heels to eventually rest his hands on your shoulders.

You raise a brow at his sudden contact. Masky normally didn’t touch you unless what he had to say was important - which really, really didn’t happen often.

“This mansion likes to play off your thoughts, feelings, and logic,” he says, his hand gesturing to the staircase that’s slowly moving directions. You didn’t even hear it begin to shift. “The Operator usually keeps things in line for when he summons you, it’s almost a guaranteed path you’ll make it to him, but,” his eyes go serious. “If it’s just you and you’re moving around, you need to have a place in mind or it’ll accidentally spit you out somewhere totally random. We’ve had people get lost in here because the mansion is slightly playful and weirdly baneful depending on the individual walking around.”

“The Operator has a playful side?”

Masky stifles a laugh before shaking you lightly. “I legitimately mean it, you need to have a place in mind or you’re gonna get lost and the Operator isn’t gonna be happy. By extension, I won’t be happy because I need to come get you.”

“Mhm,” Hoodie nods in agreement. “And you can’t have the thought in passing either, it’s gotta be on your mind until it’s in sight.” After Hoodie’s words leave his mouth, Masky lets you go.

You take all the information in and wonder just what makes the place run. It’s like it has its own personality - it’s playful and baneful? You have to ask it permission to even enter its grounds and it deems whether you’re worthy or not? What kind of power does the Operator even have and why on earth would he even care about that kind of stuff? If he truly wanted his proxies to access him, he’d do it with no hesitation. The humans that would wander into his rooms would just end up tasting someone’s blade.

“Sun room?” Hoodie reminds Masky.

Your entire walk to the sun room you try to conjure a mental image in your head. They say it’s doubtful you’ll get lost so long as you’re with them, but you consider it good practice. When you finally make it to the sun room, you’re pleased to see it’s relatively empty save for a few groups interspersed in the large, window adorned room overlooking a silver lake. There’s a few independents walking around with carts holding different tea time finger-foods and waiting tea sets on every table. Maasky leads you over to one of the tables nearest to the view of the lake.

“So, what business exactly are we here for today?” You ask as you waste no time in pouring yourself some tea.

Masky shrugs, “no idea. He said he just wanted us to come.”

“T-Think he r-really only n-needs an audience w-with them though,” Toby adds before silently thanking you for pouring him some tea as well. “L-Leaves us some t-t-time to chat. Y’know, t-the thing H-Hood hates us d-doing,” he lightly jokes.

Hoodie scoffs and feigns being annoyed, “I only hate you two chatting when we’re in the middle of tearing out some guy’s entrails.”

“Y-Yeah, which is a-all the time,” Toby giggles.

You laugh as well.

The four of you are in a heated argument about something relatively stupid when static overtakes Masky and Hoodie’s hearing. They visibly pause, as if they’re trying to key into something you can’t understand when it suddenly stops.

“Have t-to go?” Toby inquires before taking a strawberry tart and popping it into his mouth.

Both Masky and Hoodie nod.

“Yeah. Keep an eye on Reader, please? We won’t be too long,” Masky replies with a small, tired smile.

Toby flashes the two a thumbs up before the both of you watch them leave, a clear destination on their minds.

It’s not long until Toby gets distracted by some other independents that stroll into the mansion. You recognize the two of them as relatively minor legends - well, maybe not the one with the smile. His name is Jeff.

“So, this is your fresh meat, huh?” Jeff chuckles as he lightly pushes Toby’s shoulder. “She looks a little scrawny. Are you feeding her right?”

Toby laughs and nods, “Masky w-w-would lose his m-mind if you s-s-said that.”

Jeff’s chest rumbles as he laughs. “I’m joking,” he holds his hand up as a sign of truce. “Hope you know you’re running with one of the only decent groups out there, Reader,” he says before picking up his tea cup. It looks slightly comical as he brings it to his lips.

You offer him a smile and nod, “yeah, I know.”

The man to Jeff’s left nods in agreement, “Masky’s really good at what he does. Got one of the best.”

Toby immediately fights the notion (playfully) and the three engage in conversation that’s lively and vibrant all the same. You listen to the three verbally duke it out before you find yourself bored. You can’t just leave though, but you want to move at the same time.

“Toby?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I excuse myself?”

“W-Where to?”

“Washroom,” you reply.

“Do y-you need m-me to a-accompany y-y-you?”

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff scoff.

“She’s a big girl, let her go,” Jeff says as he nods his own approval for you to go. “You told her about the mindset thing?”

Toby nods.

“Yeah, then she’s good to go,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

You flash the men at your table a smile before getting up. You push in your chair and then make it to the entrance of the sunroom, leading into the halls. You don’t have a set destination in mind. The moment you step out of the sunroom, you feel the air change. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s different. On instinct, you turn your gaze over your shoulder to see the sunroom is gone. It’s just hall and lining the hall are doors upon doors.

Alright, you can work with that! A small smile comes to your face as you begin to walk forwards, allowing your curiosity to bloom. The first door you decide to open is one that’s honestly not that exciting. It was just a storage unit. Another was a study. Then it was someone’s room. Another room. And another. How many residence rooms are there?

You close yet another door and then feel a thought come into your head, taking a seat on your train of thought like a butterfly sunbathes on a flower. She - Toby had mentioned it. And you wondered. You let the thought stay. Before you know it, you’re walking through the halls guided by forces you don’t quite understand, and the further you get into the mansion, the stranger the atmosphere becomes. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not a normal feeling either. You watch as the light fixtures change from something relatively modern and regress into something more vintage. The dust begins to kick up. Irish lace begins to pepper the ceiling. You notice how the doors change style as well. How strange.

Eventually, you reach a dead end stretch of hall. At the very end of this hall is a singular door that looks weathered, as if it was sunbleached and painted over in oils. There’s an elegance to it you can’t quite place, and like a siren song, you find yourself being beckoned to it. Your proxy instincts kick in like second nature the closer you draw to it. You feel your breathing lighten, your steps as well, and you move towards it with a silence that is unmatched - as if you’re floating on air. You draw closer and closer to the door. It’s so magnetic, and you can’t quite explain why/ But closer still you must be to it.

Your hand tenderly grasps the doorknob - it feels like ice - and you twist it open. You wonder if you should be doing this. A part of you feels like you shouldn’t be doing this, but another part of you says this is what you were meant to see. You push the door open ever so slightly, just enough to be able to see inside, but the door is heavy, almost as if it doesn’t want you to. Like it’s trying to protect you from something further. You wonder if it just wishes to keep its secrets.

It’s gorgeous, it truly is. It puts the rest of the mansion to shame. It looks old - perhaps from 16th century Germany and fit for royalty. Plants of all kinds line the walls. They look like emeralds as light shines through their leaves. The sunlight kisses the flowers that sprout from the stalks. Beautiful woodwork surrounds the windows that are covered in fairytale-esque stained glass pieces. The scent is of something much, much sweeter and warmer than the rest of the mansion. Your eyes then draw to the center of the room, where an ornate table sits. There’s gold leaf decorating its legs followed by symbols you can’t really pin down. A tablecloth that looks like it was weaved from the stars above is the only thing that separates a delicate tea set from the precious mahogany table. The tea smells heavenly from where you stand.

Before you can press into the room, you pause upon seeing slender, pale hands take hold of the tea pot. Your eyes follow upwards to the owner of the hands only to see a woman so much more beautiful than the moon in twilight and the sun in the morning. Falling from her shoulders was golden hair that looked like a sea of amber as it cascaded down near the floor. Flowers were woven into it - mostly snowdrops, baby’s breath and queen Anne’s lace. She’s dressed in something from medieval Europe, and never once does her sleeve touch the table. She begins to pour herself some tea, a honey like hum coming from her being as she pours the sweet liquid. Her eyes flick upwards for but a moment when she hears a bird chirping outside. Her eyes are so dark, there exists no white sclera. They’re so dark, like black holes that hide in the depths of space, but you feel as if she holds the universe inside of them. She’s so beautiful, you’re not sure she’s real. A cat has jumped up onto the table, purring at her. When she smiles, your heart sings.

You want to say hello to her and spend time in her presence when you attempt to open the door some more. It creaks slightly. The hinges are ancient. Before you can say anything, the door is slammed shut, sending you flying backwards. You let out a sound of shock before seeing Toby reaching down to get you.

“What t-the hell a-a-are you thinking?” He hisses as he picks you up, grabbing your bicep and beginning to drag you away from the door that still holds your attention. “You r-really just w-wandered off l-like that?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, attempting to get free of his grasp as he continues to pull you along. No matter how hard you smack at him, he doesn’t let go.

“M-Masky said it’s not s-safe for y-y-you to wander o-off. A-And without m-me? D-D-Did you have a-any cognitive t-t-thought when you w-went out on a l-limb like t-that?” He sounds so heated.

You find he’s bringing you back to the sunroom, undoubtedly going to tell Masky and Hoodie about your misbehavior. “Why are you being so weird?” You retort as you attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. “It’s just a room!” You cry out in an exasperated tone.

Toby only reprimands you louder. It’s a losing game.

You eventually find yourself back in the sunroom. Only, instead of Eyeless Jack and Jeff, you see the deeply concerned and slightly pissed off faces of Masky and Hoodie. They’re not happy to see you, and you’re not exactly thrilled to see you either.

“Take a s-s-seat,” Toby says in a harsh tone as he thrusts you back into your seat.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Masky asks, not even attempting to mask his voice because that’s the privilege of being a proxy. You’re able to reprimand your proxies without anyone giving a care.

“You can’t just go off like that,” Hoodie continues as he furrows his brows. “You could’ve gotten-”

“Hurt? This is the Operator’s mansion, what the fuck is gonna hurt me in here other than himself or you two?”

“That’s it,” Masky points out. “He can seriously hurt you if you snoop where you shouldn’t!” His hands grips at your wrist, tightening to a point of pain.

When you feel tears prick your eyes, Hoodie sighs and puts his hand on Masky’s shoulder, “stop it.”

Masky hesitantly lets you go.

“What did you see?” Hoodie asks with a deep sigh, his posture tensing. He’s really hoping you didn’t see the Operator’s trophy room.

You give your comrades a concerned look, not sure whether you should answer or not when Hoodie raises a slight brow. Damn it. You’re emotionally compromised. He’s seeing what he needs to without your permission.

“That’s… Odd…” He says.

Masky glances to Hoodie. “No.”

“Unfortunately, I think yeah,” Hoodie says with a growing frown. He glances to Toby for confirmation, and upon seeing Toby’s nod, says “yeah,” again.

Masky groans and puts his face into his hands, finding comfort in being buried into himself.

You hold your wrist in your hand and lean back in your chair. “Just… What is it you guys aren’t telling me?” You question, hoping they’d just bite the bullet and tell you.

The group shares a look, debating whether they should even say it or not. When no one says anything, you press them again.

“Come on,” you sigh. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It really could be,” Masky says as he finally releases his face from his hands. “No one knows what seeing it does.”

Your eyes widen before you bark a laugh. “What?”

“No, he’s serious,” Hoodie picks up. “Seeing that door is rare, like, rainbow pikachu rare. Proxies think it’s an omen or a bad luck thing. To see it means a group’s eventual demise.”

You briefly scoff at the thought of proxies being superstitious before you remember some of you can actually cast portals. It’s really not that out of pocket.

“N-No one has e-e-ever found o-out though,” Toby shrugs. “W-We just know t-that the g-groups that h-h-have n-normally e-end in death.” He looks a little uncomfortable as he says the words, like there’s a legitimate truth to what he’s saying even though he’d rather it be utter BS.

“To be fair, we thought it was a rumor prior to you sneaking off,” Hoodie says as he tries to calm down his group.

You take in this information with a small frown. How could something that beautiful be that evil or a harbinger of doom? The thought of it left you perplexed as your comrades continued to lecture you on not wandering off until Masky and Hoodie were called away.

“I don’t know if I feel comfortable leaving Reader here with-”

Toby rolls his eyes, “you c-cant just s-say you want m-me to come with i-instead. N-Not need to insult m-my competence a-a-as a babysitter,” he mumbles before glancing down to his hatchets.

Masky sighs and nods for Toby to follow him out. Looks like it’s just you and Hoodie.

“So,” you awkwardly begin, not really sure what to do or what to say.

“So,” Hoodie hums back. “Anywhere you wanted to go?” When he sees the glint in your eyes, he shakes his head. “Like, a normal place. We’re gonna be here for a while while those two are out,” he chuckles, watching as you visibly deflate.

You allow the question to bang around in your head until you nod with a thought in mind. “The library. I’d like to go to the library.”

Hoodie smiles at that suggestion and finishes the rest of his tea before standing up. He stretches for a moment, then leads you to the hallway your original snooping began. You noticed as his thoughts immediately became clouded with the word and vision of ‘library’ as the two of you trekked the halls. As you walked, you barely recognized any of the doors you passed. They weren’t on your radar, which was odd in your opinion as you had opened a lot of door you probably shouldn’t have.

Eventually, you reach two large oak doors. Hoodie pushes them open and you’re greeted to the sight of a beautiful library. It’s impossibly huge - how could such a place exist in the mansion? You’re well aware it’s a huge place, but the fact that all of this is here… It’s bigger than a downtown city library you visited when passing through Chicago a few months ago. The Operator’s influence is beautiful, isn’t it?

“I’m gonna be in the sci-fi section,” Hoodie says as he nods over to the right wing of the library. “It’s on the second floor.” You notice the spiral staircase that leads to what appears to be a balcony - it must stretch backwards forever. “Check in with me in about 15 minutes. Don’t do anything stupid.” It’s surprising how relaxed he’s being with you. You would have expected someone like Hoodie to be a lot angerier and more observational.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, you nod and flash him a thumb’s up before bounding over to the left wing of the library. Nothing is properly labeled, but you get a strong bout of intuition where everything is. Right now, you’re on the hunt for history.

The aisle that holds the history books looks just as old as you would have expected it to. The books here aren’t any you’ve ever seen in stores either - they’re largely from the time period they’re to be representing. Some are more modern, but you get the feeling that they don’t exist anywhere else but under the Operator’s influence. You find a few books that talk about the early history of proxies, some on independents, but nothing to inform you on what you had found.

It’s honestly a little maddening. You check in with Hoodie when you have to - he asks you to list the spines of the books you’re currently looking at - and then you’re back to your fruitless search. You run up and down the halls of the history section looking for anything when you hear static begin to buzz in your heads. The feeling travels upwards like the vines you felt earlier from your heels to your chest. When they claw deep into your heart, you feel a pull. And once again, like a sailor beckoned to the rocks due to a siren’s song, you follow it.

It twists and turns you through the shelves, making you zip past the few proxies and independents that are currently visiting this wing of the library before you’re drawn to a rotunda. You look backwards and see in the distance the front doors of the library. When did this place get a middle wing? It was just straight shelves and a wall with large windows overlooking the rolling hills of the woods. You turn your attention upwards to the ceiling of the rotunda. There’s a large skylight that allows sunlight to cascade down. Around that are gems you don’t even know the name of that weave a mosaic of something positively divine. You allow your gaze to follow the shaft of warm sunlight down, and there, sitting at a table with a book in hand (it looks like a journal) is the Operator himself.

“S-Sir!” You manage to squeak out as you find yourself startled to be in his presence, Heat rises to your cheeks when he looks up from his book to turn his attention to you.

“How did you get here?” He asks, confusion etching his body as he curiously tilts his head.

Your breath hitches. “I’m so sorry,” you apologize, bowing your head almost immediately. “I don’t know how I got here. It just felt like a pull and suddenly I was here? I was in the left wing and looking over history books and I-” you continue to rattle off until the Operator holds up his hand, silently signaling you to stop. You do so as soon as he asks.

“I-. It’s no matter,” he waves off. “Come, sit down beside me.” An inky black tendril sprouts from his back as he pulls the chair in front of him out, allowing you to sit in his presence.

You will your stone-like legs forward and attempt to gracefully take a seat in front of him. It’s a slightly awkward silence before he speaks again.

“How have you been, Miss Reader?”

“I’m alright,” you reply, voice no higher than a whisper.

The Operator hums. “Good.”

Another pregnant pause.

“Child, where is your book?”

“I uh, didn’t grab one?” You answer softly. You can tell the Operator is looking at you with what he can convey to his fullest as confusion. “When I was pulled here I just.. Followed,” you attempt to explain. “I don’t know why I’m here.”

“And what have you done today?” He asks, giving his passing attention to you like a father would.

You bite your lip before steering the conversation towards the room you saw. “I think I met someone.”

“You did, did you?”There’s a passing interest as if he’s saying ‘that’s nice, honey.’

You nod. “She was in a tea room-”

He pauses.

“I found her by accident-”

He makes sure he’s hearing you correctly.

“Her hair was golden-”

He looks up.

“She had plants-”

He’s sitting upright now.

“She had a cat-”

He leans forward.

“Her smile rivaled the stars-”

He’s focusing so intently on you now.

“Her voice was like honey-”

He entirely focused on you.

“She was beautiful.”

The Operator’s ichor pauses for just a moment as he takes in the description of the woman you described. It makes a part of him sing and another part of him sob. He hasn’t heard of her in so, so long.

When you look up, you see the Operator practically leaned halfway over the table and entirely focused on you. It makes you jump. “I’m sorry,” you apologize sheepishly, thinking you saw something you shouldn’t have. “I wasn’t thinking and I uh, think the mansion led me to her?”

The Operator wordlessly nods. “Was she pouring tea?” He asked, voice so much gentler than anything you could ever expect him to conjure up.

You slowly nod. “She was.”

The Operator suddenly slumps down, making you jolt. You rise on instinct to help him when he waves you back down. “Do you realize who you’ve come into contact with?” He asks.

You shake your head. “I’m afraid not, Sir,” you say with slight remorse.

The Operator chuckles deeply - it rumbles his chest and in your head. “You found her.” He could smile, you were sure it would be from ear to ear if he had the correct facial features. “All these years later and you found her.” He emphasizes you like a bittersweet affirmation.

“Who is she?” You ask softly.

Your boss sits back up again. “Someone who loves me,” his tendril sprouts once again from his back and moves towards you. “Someone who loves you,” it taps your nose. “Someone who loves us.” The tendril makes a grand, sweeping gesture.

You take in the words and nod, still not knowing what they mean. Upon seeing your confusion, he decides to elaborate.

“A long, long time ago, in a realm you could not begin to fathom, there was light and there was dark,” he begins, his voice slipping into something akin to someone saying a bedtime story. “I was the light, and that cur we call Zalgo was the dark.”

You scrunch your nose at the sound of his name.

“The dark and the light were born from nothing, and she was beautiful.” His audible smile is actually endearing to hear. “Throughout the years, the light and the dark fought, constantly at each other's throats. It was woven in the threads of history, it had been our birthright. When we came to this place, this planet after being cast from our home - a palace amongst all palaces, a kingdom that rose far above any other, the nothingness came with us. She called herself Liebevolle Frau. She loved her children.” By this point in the story, the Operator has taken the liquids from the coffee cup he drinks from and animated them into the characters for this story.

You watch with stars in your eyes.

“But no guardian is without its favorites, and I happened to be hers.” Liebevolle Frau’s figure was shown sheltering the Operator’s much smaller one. “And this caused a rift that could not be mended through the light and dark. Eventually, the dark waged war on the light.”

It’s a war you’re still fighting to this day.

“In the 1500s, long after this mansion had been built and my power continued to grow, Zalgo had almost wiped us off the face of the earth to splatter out remains across all the five realms. Liebevolle Frau, thought caught off guard,” that would explain the tea, “sheltered me and protected this place and all who resided in it. At the time,” the Operator looks at you. “Independents and proxies had lived here much more commonly than they do now.”

You smile softly.

“Liebevolle Frau’s power had been pushed to its limit in holding back her first born son, and mind, as well as her heart, broke because of it. In her remaining moments of lucidity, she imbued herself, her soul,” the liquids take the form of something fluttering and soft, like a bird, “her everything, and became the place I hold jurisdiction over today.”

Your eyes widen as you think back to the odd feelings you’ve had coming here for today - and Toby’s slip-up.

“I have not been able to find her since the late 1500s,” The Operator explains as the liquids dance back into the coffee mug, the figure of Liebevolle Frau taking a hair longer than the rest. “She lives in everything.”

You’re honestly speechless over everything the Operator has said because it’s so… It’s strangely heartfelt. You’ve never even spoken face to face with your boss and when you do, it’s because some force is guiding you to do so. But if that force felt so alive, it must have meant she wanted you to know.

“Her physical form,” you finally manage to wisp out. “She wanted to be at peace, didn’t she?”

The Operator chuckles deeply. “I would assume so.”

Before you can respond to anything or even come up with another response, you hear both Masky AND Hoodie yelling for you in your head. The jarring difference between your boss’s gentle voice and Masky and Hoodie crying out for blood is enough to make you jump (once again).

Upon seeing your sudden switch in atmosphere, the Operator hushes the voices in your head and calls them to his side.

Toby is the first to show up though, and quickly trailing after him is Masky and Hoodie. They both look ready to reprimand you but upon seeing you sitting with the Operator, nothing but reverence crosses their minds and bodies.

“Good evening, Sir,” Masky says as he bows his head. “Are you well?”

“Thoughtful, aren't you, Timothy?” There’s no animosity or anger in the Operator’s tone, but it makes Masky blush all the same.

A pregnant pause passes.

“I was just speaking with your newest member, Miss Reader,” a pale hand gestures to you. “Come, join us. I could use the company.”

You watch as confused glances get shared between your three comrades before they take a seat beside you.

A pleasant silence passes through the air before a gentle humming that’s sweeter than honey overtakes it like a passing breeze.

#masky #hoodie #ticci toby #masky x reader #hoodie x reader #ticci toby x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #mh #reader insert #x reader #slender man #the operator #slender man x reader

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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Hibiscus Kisses {6}

Chris Evans x OFC Ajali Rambaue AU {Ah-Jah-Lee, Ram-Bow}

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst, Blood, Lots Of Words, Death

Words: 8.3k

Summary: Ajali decides on a rash decision to go on a Disney cruise, not for her love of Disney, but because she needs time to figure things out after things get even more complicated in her complicated life. She only expected peace, quiet, tropical drinks, and an overabundance of Disney songs. What she got was more than she bargained for when the cruise of a lifetime on the brand new ship Enchantment turned into a nightmare. The only saving grace is that she’s not the only one living through the nightmare. Can Ajali survive the test of a lifetime and the dangers ahead of her, and better yet, will she finally be able to live a little?

Note: Please feel free to tell me what you think. I’m super excited to explore this one with you all. 🤗

As always, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG! ❤️❤️

I appreciate each and every one of your guys’ support and love!

***VERY Loosely Edited/Proofread***

**Interactive**

Previous Chapters: {1} | {2} | {3} | {4} | {5} |

You must have stood at the back of the yacht for a while because the shore and the docks were barely visible at this point. Every minute that ticked by you weighed your options of just diving in and swimming back. Everything you came up with seemed fine to deal with. So what if your hair got wet and you had to go through your four-hour wash and treat routine. So what if you attracted a shark or two, you could swim. So what if everything in your bag got drenched, you could replace them.

With the number of rebuttals you came up with, you should have jumped in already. The major con that was flashing in your head in neon lettering was you are an adult and not a child who ran away from difficult situations. The sound of laughter had you turning around to see Chris laughing with Harper. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Scoffing, you turned back around and crossed your arms.

Almost a minute later you felt Chris standing beside you. “If you want to swim back I’m sure you could make it.”

If looks could kill, the one you gave him should have done it. All you had to do was push him overboard to a watery grave. Chris lifted his hands to show his no threat status and that was when you walked away.

“All right folks. It’ll be another forty minutes before we arrive at the best fishing spot in all of the islands. It’s my little secret. In the meantime, you have a choice of activities. You can go down below and marine watch, stay on deck and do some pictures and sights, or go into the bubble where you are surrounded by the ocean. It is optimal for fish watching. I’ll let you folks know when we’ve arrived.”

You nodded and walked toward the steps that would lead below deck. You fully intended to get as far away from him as possible. Ignoring the way he turned to you as if he had something to say, you carefully went down the steps and to the back of the yacht. There you found what Harper was referring to. It looked like an actual bubble with two seats. Once you sat down you saw why this was mentioned as the most sought-after experience. You really felt like you were alone under the ocean and not apart from it but one with it.

You watched a school of yellow and black striped fish swim by and a small box popped up to the right of the screen with a still photo of the fish and a few listed facts.

“Moorish Idol fish. These fish commonly inhabit tropical to subtropical reefs and lagoons. These fish usually travel alone or in small schools. These fish mate for life and adult males show aggression to one another.”

Your jaw dropped. You hadn’t expected it to be high-tech. In front of you, you grabbed the flipbook and flicked through it to see a variety of sea creatures. The announcement of another fish brought your attention back to the ocean before you and that is where your eyes remained. Creature after creature swam by and up to the glass. Each one was announced and described. As they came up, you took pictures of the pretty ones you liked ready to show them to your family when you returned home.

You were so wrapped up in fish watching that you didn’t notice that you weren’t alone until it was too late. Chris slipped into the seat beside you, startling you. Your harsh glare landed on him with the force of fifty blades behind it. He wasn’t looking at you though, his eyes were glued to the water and passing reef life.

“Oh wow, Nemo and Dory,” Chris exclaimed inching closer to the glass.

That was all it took for your attention to go right back, and lo and behold there were Dory and Nemo lookalikes.

“Wow.”

Mirroring Chris’s actions you slid to the edge of the seat as well and touched the glass. They were pretty in animation but that had nothing on real life. The orange and blue were so striking up close.

“They’re even best friends in real life,” Chris quietly said.

For the next few minutes neither of you spoke again you were too wrapped up in looking at all the fish that passed by one after the other. When you’d reached a part of the ocean where life was scarce, you sat back and crossed your arms.

“Can I please explain?”

You sighed and dropped your head back to rest on the hard headrest, keeping your eyes trained in front of you.

“I promise I’m not this asshole you have me pegged as in your head.”

“So you don’t go around trying to charm women out of your panties and in your bed for notches on your bedpost?”

“God no!”

You rolled your eyes not believing one word.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to nothing but good,” Chris replied holding up three fingers.

A smirk teased your lips at the Harry Potter line he’d just repurposed for his own use mixed with the Hunger Games salute. You shook your head unable to ignore how adorkably stupid he was.

“You know those two have nothing to do with the other, right?”

Chris slyly smiled and shrugged. “It’s sorta my thing. Sleeping around and I have nothing to do with each other also.”

You snorted and shook your head. He was smooth.

“You’re real smooth, I’ll give you that.”

He sighed and turned his body more to you. “It’s a misunderstanding,” Chris began.

“Let me stop you there. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time anyone starts off with that, chances are there was no misunderstanding,” you dryly informed.

“That high? Okay, then I fall in the point one percent.”

You glared at him again but he didn’t back down, he held your glare but behind his eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity rather than the hostility you had spearing behind yours. When you didn’t object, he opened his mouth to speak again but you looked away.

“There’s no need.”

“Why won’t you let me explain?”

You knew why. If he explained and the explanation seemed plausible and he looked sincere the chances of you believing it would be eighty percent and that was high. You would then continue spending time with him because you did enjoy his company and conversation and eventually sleep with him. Maybe. Letting him explain was step one that would lead to a series of missteps. Then you’d find yourself in a situation come the end of the cruise when both of you went your separate ways. There were too many what-ifs in the air.

“Ah, I think I know. If you let me explain then this image you have of me being a womanizer who is after fast and quick ass, who would come on a cruise to chase women for a notch would be debunked. If it is debunked, then you’d have to admit that you liked spending time with me and enjoyed yourself. Then you’d have to admit that what might have happened if my phone didn’t ring wouldn’t have been a one-off. You’d have to face the possibility that there might be something here past our physical attraction.”

Well damn, you thought. For a moment your thoughts betrayed the steely animosity in your eyes and you knew your shock shone through. You quickly looked away from him and tapped into your inner Elsa while watching a school of white fish pass by. You could feel him beside you staring at you as if trying to crack your resolve. You fought against him and kept your breathing slow and steady.

“You don’t have to tell me I’m right. I know I am and it’s not because I’m a cocky prick. It’s because—,” Chris paused then sighed heavily before he continued. “I liked spending time—with you. Like really liked it and this was before anything physical happened. You’re funny and fun and not phased by this thing called fame that is wrapped around me. You probably don’t understand it, but that’s something refreshing and attractive to me.”

Unable to resist any longer, you sneakily glanced at him while wondering if any part of what he’d just said was possibly true.

“Before I came on this cruise to get away from my life—run away from my life.”

Your interest piqued. Why was he running away? Didn’t he have everything?

“My friend, the one you heard on the phone was teasing me about the reason. I didn’t want to give him the real deal so I kept quiet which led him to the conclusion that it had something to do with a woman. It didn’t but he thought it. So the phone call was him stating his opinions again, his way of life. Now I’m not condoning what he said at all but that’s his life. I didn’t come here for any of that and that night wasn’t about that for me.”

“What was it about?”

You blurted the question without a thought and once you’d asked, you regretted it. The answer wouldn’t do you any good.

Sighing, you looked back out to the water. “Don’t answer that.”

And he didn’t. The silence stretched and your thoughts did as well. You contemplated his explanation and the probability of any of it being true. He had all the reason to lie right now, but the more you thought about it the more you guessed he didn’t need to lie being who he was. He could have just shrugged and put you on the side that wasn’t a fan of his and kept it moving.

“Look,” Chris said shoving his phone to you with the text exchange between him and someone named Austin was visible.

“I know what it is to be distrustful of strangers or everyone really and proof means a lot to me. Since the burden of proof is on my side, here it is.”

You read through the exchange from a little over a week ago and sure enough, his friend Austin was scum. The irrefutable proof showed those sentiments were his and even showed Chris admonishing him for those sentiments and setting him straight. The banter that continued was Austin teasing him about his good boy behaviors. From the texts, you could tell they were close, and you could also tell that Austin was the asshole between them and Chris was possibly a good guy.

Groaning, you looked away and dropped your head back to the headrest again. You did not need this. Sighing, you closed your eyes and listened to the silence. Several minutes passed by where neither of you spoke and just when you were going to Harper’s voice came in over the ship’s intercoms.

“We have some dolphin action up here if anyone’s interested.”

“Dolphins!”

Your head snapped to Chris hearing the uncharacteristically excited squeal. Did he really just turn into a Powerpuff girl? Chris leapt to his feet and began walking toward the steps leaving you there to wonder just what kind of man he was.

A few moments later, you emerged from below and walked to the railing to see a dolphin jump out of the water in the distance.

“Oh my god!”

At that moment you felt your smallness in the world. There were so many other creatures that were bigger and yet humans always thought themselves so superior. It was baffling.

“It’s not always like this, they must be here to greet you folks,” Harper said as another jumped out and one swam up.

You dropped down to your knees and peered over the railing and marveled at the aquatic beauty.

“They’re so friendly.”

Just then, a dolphin popped up showing its long bottlenose and black eyes and in the same breath, a stream of water came at you drenching you. In your shock, you just sat there while Chris and Harper heartily got their laugh in at your expense. To add insult to injury the dolphin even sounded like it was laughing. Who could be mad though? It was too cute. You looked across the way and saw Chris snapping pictures of you with a wide smile on his face. Being alarmed, snapping at him, or even telling him to delete the pictures would have all been acceptable reactions but you didn’t react in any of those ways. Instead, you brought your attention back to the dolphins in the water. Let him take his pictures, you thought.

Twenty minutes later you were sitting at the side of the boat with your legs dangling over the edge enjoying the breeze, sun, and tranquility being on the ocean brought. There was something so serene about being in the middle of a giant body of water with creatures of plenty underneath its depths while there was nothing in sight for miles and miles. It was peaceful. The pictures you took of the horizon, the sky, and the water were breathtaking. You knew they’d make great printouts to add to your walls when you returned home. When you realized your battery was running low, you dug into your bag for one of your four fully charged portable chargers and slipped your phone into one of the many waterproof pouches you had your belongings secured inside.

Your sister liked to make fun of you for how well you prepared for things. When you went out for every day, your purse contained every possible thing you would and could need for the day. You didn’t like being unprepared for whatever you came across and that included something as minor as rain all the way to the major things like abductions. You’d been the butt of many jokes but you didn’t care.

Glancing to the other side of the yacht, you watched as Chris followed the instruction of Harper as he practiced a variety of sailor’s knots. It didn’t look like he was a novice though. You could tell he’d done it a few times before. Sooner than you could look away, Harper caught you then motioned you over. It would have been rude to ignore him, so you walked over to them and sat before them.

“Here, try your hand at sailor’s knots,” Chris suggested holding out a length of rope to you.

“It’s not as easy as it looks,” he followed up as you took it.

“You look like you’ve done it before.”

“Once or twice,” he replied.

You studied the knots surrounding Chris for a few moments then took a stab at it. From the beginning you messed it up but didn’t quit, instead, you undid it and tried again. You didn’t quit easy. That was probably why you were in your current relationship predicament. A few minutes and several failed attempts later, you held up the finished product that looked identical to Chris’s.

“So you have one of those brains where you can see something and replicate it?”

You scoffed and shrugged. “Kind of. I just pick some things up quickly.”

Chris nodded and held out another length of rope and pointed to a different pattern. “Try this one.”

You knew it was a test. You grabbed the rope and studied the new pattern that was a lot more intricate than the first. Though it was more intricate it took you a shorter amount of time to start. When you held it up for them to see, less time had passed and you hadn’t made one mistake.

“Wow,” Harper exclaimed before he chuckled.

“What can I say, I’m pretty amazing,” you joked.

Both men laughed but didn’t debate the fact.

“We’re coming up on the cove that gives me the best fish. Of course, we’re catching and releasing, but it won’t dampen the experience,” Harper informed.

Within a few short minutes, Harper had pulled up to one of the most beautiful coves you’d ever seen. The water was aquamarine crystal blue. It was so crystal like you could see several feet into it. The giant rocks that created a maze had moss growing off the tops of them that were lush green and created a nice contrast of colors. If you could have picked up this view and brought it home with you, you would have. It was that breathtaking.

You weren’t the only one thinking it, Chris was a few feet away snapping every picture he could get, only he didn’t look like a tourist. He looked like a professional travel photographer. When he dropped to one of his knees to get a different angle you just leaned against the railing and watched. The sun beaming down on him gave his hair a reddish hue which looked good on him. It even accentuated the freckles peppered along his arms. You remembered what was under that shirt of his at that second. You remembered the muscles, the hair, and the tats. It was an unexpected sight but one that you wouldn’t mind seeing again. Instantly you kissed your teeth and slapped your forehead.

“Cut it out.”

“Did you say something?”

Chris was looking at you with a quizzical expression with his camera still posed up.

“Nope, nothing.”

He didn’t look like he believed you, but slowly he went back to snapping his pictures while you tried to create even more distance between you.

“Get a grip, Ajali. It hasn’t been that long. You’re not affection starved either. Get—a—grip.”

You took a few slow breathes and focused on the scene before you. You now understood why many people said this island was a top destination for vacations.

“And we’re ready. You both said you’ve fished before, right?”

You walked toward Harper’s voice then saw he had fishing rods, buckets, gloves, and all the other supplies lying at his feet.

“I’ve done some fishing,” Chris offered before both sets of eyes landed on you.

“Never.”

“It’s not hard, I promise,” Harper assured bending for the rods. He held one out to Chris and the other to you.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll explain everything and its function. If either of you have any questions let me know.”

Harper walked a few feet away leading the two of you to a shaded portion of the yacht. Once there, he explained everything in detail. He showed the parts of the rod, showed how to put things together, explained their function, and then went on to the different kinds of bait that were available. When he began demonstrating how to hold the rod and posture you paid close attention and imitated what he did. You knew though this was something that would take some getting used to.

After twenty minutes, the three of you were in your spots ready to cast your rods. You watched Harper cast his first and it looked so fluid. You could tell he’d done this thousand of times. Then you watched Chris and though his movements weren’t as fluid, it looked like he was far from a beginner. You sighed and tried your best. The rod was heavy in your hands and affected your ability to control it and cast it perfectly. Glancing at Harper, he shrugged.

“Good enough. You got it where it needs to go.”

A soft chuckle escaped both you and Chris.

“What kind of catch do you get out here?”

Harper proceeded to explain the different kinds of fish he’d caught to Chris while you partially zoned them out. It didn’t take long for you to understand why people liked fishing. It was calming. You could leisurely do it while letting your mind drift and worries float away. Thirty minutes later it was your line that tugged first. You yelped then squeaked as you panicked.

“What do I do?”

“Reel it in,” Harper said.

The resistance on the line was giving you a good arm workout. The struggle went back and forth. You doubted this was a baby.

“This thing is strong.”

“You got it, put your back into it like Ice Cube,” Chris teased making you narrow your eyes at him. That only made him laugh loudly.

A few more moments of struggle persisted until you’d yanked the rod backward tucking it out of the water, over your head, and flopping the fish right on the deck.

“Aaaah, oh my god! I caught a fish!”

You jumped up and down excited by your success. Forgetting any prior slights you jumped closer to Chris and bumped shoulders with him.

“I did it!”

“You did.”

“Good job. This here is a Barracuda,” Harper announced.

“Ooooh Barracuda,” you and Chris said in unison like the song. The two of you giggled together before returning your attention to Harper.

“It’s not an adult, but it’s no baby either. You want a picture?”

“Yes!”

You scurried to your bag and pulled out your phone then handed it to Chris before you dropped down to your knees and bent to the fish still flopping on the deck and smiled as you’d just won the lotto. Chris laughed and took the picture a few moments later. After the first few shots, you changed poses and let him take a few more. You watched as Chris’s face went from wide smiles to solemn confusion. Just as you were going to ask if your battery died, Harper spoke.

“Do you want to do the honors of releasing it?”

“You mean touch it?”

Harper nodded and you ardently shook your head. “No thank you. I hear Barracudas like to bite.”

Harper laughed at you as he effortlessly grabbed the fish by its tail then chucked it back into the ocean.

“It was just an adolescent.”

Chris held your phone out then walked back to his rod without a word. Slight confusion washed over you as you glanced at your screen to see one of the pictures he’d just taken, but your battery was fully charged.

For the next few hours Chris barely spoke to you, but when you glanced over to him, his eyes were always on you before he looked away once yours met his. It was a complete turnaround from before. It shouldn’t have bothered or affect you at all considering the reality of things, but it did bother you a little bit. Once the three of you had had your fill of catch and release the sun was beginning to disappear. Harper caught a huge Mahi Mahi, scaled and fillet it right in front of you, and Chris showing off his impressive knife skills. He then took the fish to prepare what he promised would be the best open ocean fish you’d ever had. You were excited to see the finished product.

Once Harper had disappeared down below you walked to the cooler, took out two beers, and walked over to Chris. He was sitting toward the back of the yacht watching the rocks in silence. You sat beside him, held out the beer, and waited for him to accept it. When he took it, he wasted no time twisting off the top and taking a mouthful. You sat there in silence looking over the view.

“Who knew a celebrity could fish.”

“I’m not a celebrity all day every day. I have hobbies and free time.”

“I take it fishing is a hobby?”

“When I can get to it. Sometimes I can’t go off the grid to do it.”

You nodded and tried to picture him at a lake with a rod and bucket of bait catching fish. A soft smile spread across your face before you gulped your beer.

“What’s one of your hobbies?”

Taking a deep breath you slowly released it. “Painting.”

“You’re artistic?”

“Depends what you call artistic. I can slap some paint on a canvas and call it a day.”

Chris looked at you for a few moments. “Somehow I find it hard to believe it’s as lowkey as you’re describing. I bet you’re a modern-day Frida Kahlo.”

You smiled and shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Silence spread between you again and the two of you sipped from your bottles. It was a semi-comfortable silence.

“Are you departing tomorrow or staying on?”

You wanted to ask why he wanted to know but decided against it. “Staying on.”

Chris nodded. “Me too.”

Neither of you spoke again, instead, you watched the sky as the sun slowly began its descent behind the water. When Harper returned, the air filled with such a delicious scent that your belly grumbled loudly.

“And dinner is served. Harper placed the platter down on the table and you and Chris walked over to it. Your jaw dropped in amazement.

“What kind of kitchen do you have down there that can produce that?”

“I’ve had tons of practice.”

The Mahi Mahi that was alive less than two hours ago was now cooked to perfection and decorated with papaya, and a green salad.

“Wow, this looks mouthwatering,” Chris complimented.

“It’s nothing fancy, just some fish with a papaya and seaweed salad.”

“Seaweed salad? Oh wow. You utilize everything huh.”

“Absolutely. I can tell you more about using everything you can to not only survive but make good food,” Harper said motioning you both to sit down.

“No one is serving you here, help yourselves there’s plenty.”

The three of you dug in taking portions of fish and salad. When you took a bite of the Mahi Mahi your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Oh my god. This is so good.”

“All it needed was some salt, pepper, and lemon. Sometimes keeping it simple is the best way.”

Chris moaned and nodded in agreement with you. “Delicious.”

As the three of you ate, Harper told you all about his travels and time living on his own on the ocean and how he’d learned to survive on little to nothing. It was so interesting to hear his story. From it, you gathered he was determined, creative, meticulous, and persevering. He didn’t let anything stop him and because of that mindset, he said he’d seen a lot of wonderful things and had a beautiful life. Listening to him speak about his loves and losses and how it was just him in the end you couldn’t help but think about your relationships.

When he began listing off the life lessons he’d learned you made note of each and every one of them. You always thought the stories of the older generations were interesting. While most of their experiences were relatable, a lot of it wasn’t because of the difference in eras. In Harper’s era being a bachelor past twenty-two was seen as taboo, yet that was the life he lived. When he spoke of when he did get married, it was to the one woman he’d loved since he was twenty years old. The woman he’d been stupid about and missed out on two times. From the way he spoke about her, you knew she was his soul mate.

Glancing to Chris who was sitting diagonally from you, part of you wondered how relatable Harper’s experiences were to him. You thought back to the very few tabloid and gossip stories you’d read about him but nothing jumped out to you. The tabloids didn’t focus on one woman that he was possibly seeing, they didn’t highlight any crazy behaviors with any of them or even highlight breakups. That was part of how you’d pieced him together. The lack of information left for such a wide breadth of possibilities to put together.

“Take it from me young ones, when you’re walking down a dimly lit street of soft lights, and you happen to find that anomaly among the sea that shines a different light and makes everything else pale in comparison you do whatever it takes to hold on to that. You fight for it and don’t let anything or anyone make you miss out on it. None of us are here for a long time. One day I’ll join my Angie and we’ll be together again. I welcome that day, until then I’ll keep drifting.”

The three of you sat there in silence, each of you lost in your thoughts and worries. Was Javii that anomaly or was he part of the sea and you’d been mistaken this whole time? When Harper returned to the helm to captain you back toward land you were secluded from the rest of them and still lost in your thoughts. It had been days since you left and you’d figured out nothing. If anything, you’d added more to your plate to think about. This was what you hadn’t wanted to do and that was the reason you chose this option rather than staying in the city.

You began to wonder again about the person who would be that anomaly that Harper spoke of. Rather than thinking of your experiences with Javii, your irresponsible mind thought of your run-ins with Chris. When you’d seen him in passing before boarding the ship you’d noticed him in the sea of people and amidst every chaotic thing happening around you. Your brain singled him out. It did it again when you saw him in passing topside when you’d met Genevieve and in the lounge club. It was something you hadn’t focused on before but now it was all you could think of.

“Get a freaking grip, Ajali!”

You smacked your head and dropped it down hunching over to hug your shins. Suddenly, you felt raindrops and those drops quickly turned into a waterfall.

“What the--,” you began holding your hands out confused how a downpour like this could just suddenly start.

Unexpectedly, the ship lurched hard to the left sending items on the deck toppling over including your beer bottle and the empty ones around it. Thinking quickly, you grabbed the railing to not tumble. Your grip was precarious thanks to the downpour and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold on for long. Just as you were losing your grip, that was when the ship lurched again only this time to the right. With no time to grab for the railing, you tumbled over but before you hit the deck arms wrapped around you stabilizing you.

“I got you.”

Glancing up, you found Chris with rainwater pouring down his face and beard. He was holding on tightly to one of the metal poles while holding you tightly in his other arm. When the rocking went from deadly to manageable, Chris slowly let you go.

“Something must be wrong. Let’s go.”

Both of you took off on the search to find Harper. Every few seconds the rocking of the ship made items fall and roll. Chris was the one to pull you in every which direction to help you avoid the bigger items. When the ship bucked back you both slid back.

“Aaah, fuck!”

A sharp slice caught you off guard making you fall to the deck. Before Chris could react the boat rocked again sending you rolling back a few feet. When you slammed into one of the walls you shouted out in pain. Seconds later Chris was bent before you.

“Are you okay?”

His eyes quickly scanned your body and found your bleeding foot.

“Oh god.

Chris quickly pulled off his tropical printed shirt, ripped it, and began wrapping your foot.

“I’m sorry I have to do this tight to hopefully slow the bleeding,” Chris informed before he yanked the material, knotting it tightly around your injury. You tried to stifle your groan but it didn’t work. Your shout echoed across the open water and carried it competing with the downpour from the sky.

“I’m sorry. Ready to keep going? We’re almost there.”

You nodded and let Chris help you up. With his arm around your waist and yours draped over his shoulder the two of you hurried to the small enclosure where Harper was steering the boat. Every so often thanks to the falling and rolling items you and Chris looked like circus performers, jumping, dodging, and sliding out of harm's way. The way Chris managed to go into protector and alpha mode had you seeing a new side to him. Women did love a man who could take charge.

When you finally made it you found Harper passed out on the floor.

“Oh my god!”

Chris placed you along one of the windows so you could lean against it before he dropped down to his knees to check for a pulse. The longer it took him to turn to you, the more anxious you became.

“He has a pulse, but it’s thready. Looks like he may have hit his head,” Chris informed before he ripped the while men’s tank he wore at the hem and pressed it to Harper’s forehead.

On impact, Harper groaned then bolted up.

“Hey, take it easy,” Chris shouted trying to compete with the loudness of the ocean and the rain.

“No. Storm. We’re in a storm. We call these pop-ups. They happen all the time,” Harper explained as Chris helped him to his feet.

“If you knew it was coming--,” you began.

“I didn’t. No one can predict these and they’re increasingly more dangerous.”

The yacht whipped as if it were a leash sending all three of you knocking into whatever was closest. Immediately the pain that whisked through you had you screaming. That was the first time you thought you were going to die. All you could feel was pain, all you could hear was the sound of your heart beating. You slowly opened your eyes but couldn’t make anything out through the haziness. You couldn’t pinpoint where the pain in your body was coming from, it felt like it was everywhere.

“Ajali!”

Snapping your eyes open you saw Chris’s drenched and concerned face before you. “Open your eyes. Stay with me!”

It was a forceful command. One that you slowly obeyed. He helped you to a sitting position then turned back to Harper who was trying to stand to look over the built-in equipment of the ship.

“We’re way off course here. Somehow this storm has put us way off route. It makes no sense.”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means we’re drifting and not towards the islands. We’re drifting away.”

“What!”

Harper tried to turn the key for the engine but it stalled then sputtered. He tried it again and again but the result was the same.

“This is bad,” Harper added.

“What do we do?”

The ship rocked again but this tilt was so drastically different. It actually went so far on its side that it felt like you were going to capsize.

“We’re gonna tip over!”

Chris ran from the small room fighting against gravity’s pull to yank him over. Your first thought was he was leaving you.

“Hang on tight!”

Your scream was so loud you doubt you’d ever gone that high before. Terror gripped your heart and your entire life flashed before your eyes. You were certain you were done for. There was no way to make it out of this. You began mumbling but you didn’t know if what you said made any sense. A few seconds later, the ship dropped back into the water allowing you to remain top side up. You felt hands on your body and you opened your eyes to Chris shoving your arms in a bright orange life vest.

“I could only find one right now so it’s yours.”

“What—what about you?”

“I’ll be fine. Hold on tight.”

He spun around looking at Harper.

“I have to get below.”

Harper hurried out without another word and Chris turned back to you.

“I’m going to help him. Stay here.”

He made a move to leave and you grabbed his hand pulling him back to you.

“Don’t leave me.”

“I’m not. I’m going below with Harper. I’m sure he’ll need my help. I think it’s safer for you up here.”

You still held tight to his hand fear controlling your movements. Chris’s expression softened before he took a step close to you to hold you at the side of your neck to the base of your skull.

“I swear to you I won’t leave you, no matter what. We’re in this together. I will be back and we’ll laugh about this one day. For that day to come though we have to get through this and I have to help him down below. You’ll be safe. Hold on tight, stay low.”

You nodded and took a few breathes trying to psych yourself up.

“You got this,” Chris said before he pulled away and walked from you.

You closed your eyes and said a silent prayer hoping for him to come back and that his words weren’t bullshit.

The seconds seemed to slowly tick by and the minutes went on for lifetimes. Every jolt of the ship leveled you to a whimpering mess. You did just as Chris has instructed—kept low and held on for dear life. You didn’t care how numb your hand became from gripping the cold metal for so long you kept holding on. You didn’t care how cold you got from not only the ocean water but the rain and the strong wind gusts, you remained in your corner shivering refusing to come out. It didn’t matter how much the pain you felt intensified the colder you got you ignored it and kept whispering your silent prayers. You didn’t want to die. Not like this.

You heard something like a loud crack then the groaning of metal then the ship once again tilted. You screeched and tried to hold yourself to the railing but the further the boat tilted the harder it was to hold on.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You screamed again and braced yourself to end up in the water under the boat, but instead of it tipping it once again dropped back onto the water’s surface.

“Oh my god!”

“Ajali, can you hear me?”

You whipped your head around trying to find where the voice was coming from without letting go of the railing. You were too scared.

“Ajali. Can you hear me!”

On the dashboard, you saw a red light flashing and guessed it was the radio. The only problem was for you to get to it, you’d have to let go and walk over to it. If the yacht tilted again you’d slid your ass out the room and off the boat. It was a risk.

“Ajali, pick up. We’re down here trying to fix the engine but we need you to turn her on for us. Can you do that?”

“Fuck!”

You slowly stood, fighting against your aching joints, bones, and muscles, and stood upright with most of your weight on your uninjured foot. You assessed the distance from where you were to the dashboard and knew slow and steady was the best way but you doubted you had that time. You took a deep breath and took three hops on your good foot toward the dashboard. When there was just one hop left to take the vessel rocked sending you off balance and smack dab into the glass with your face.

At this point, there was no part of your body that wasn’t in pain. A metallic irony taste filled your mouth and you knew you were bleeding. You had no idea from where though, your face was completely numb.

“Ajali!?”

Using the back of one hand, you wiped across your mouth and took another deep breath, and hopped to the dashboard throwing yourself across it and holding it for dear life. You took a few moments to calm yourself then grabbed the walkie.

“I’m here.”

You heard Chris exhale as if he was relieved. “Thank god, I thought something happened.”

“I’m fine,” you lied while trying to wipe away the blood that dripped across the dashboard.

“Try to turn the engine on.”

You twisted the designated key all that happened was a long exaggerated sputter then hiss.

“This time keep it turned don’t release it,” Chris suggested.

Doing as you were told, you waited and begged the engine to cooperate. When you heard a yell over the walkie you knew it wasn’t good.

“Damn it! There’s water in the engine. The only way to even begin to work on it is for it to dry out. That’s gonna be impossible during a storm. It’ll just keep flooding. We’re not moving. Damn it!”

There was a full range of banging over the walkie that only made you panic more.

“Can everyone not fall apart right now? Please. I’m terrified enough as it is,” you pleaded.

“Listen to my voice, it’s okay. We’re coming back up. We just have to weather the storm,” Chris said. His voice sounded like he was panicking but was also trying to showcase calm. You heard both.

Another loud crack echoed but it wasn’t on your end, it was over the walkie.

“What was that?”

The sound rang out again and everything went dead silent over the walkie before a loud crash of something breaking echoed out. At that moment the ship lurched again only this time the groan of metal was so loud it made you shake from fear. Garbled speech went in and out over the walkie alarming you.

“He—hello?”

The only response you got was the walkie dying.

“Hello? Hello?” You pressed buttons and turned switches not knowing what any of them did but hoping one of them brought communication back. Nothing helped though.

“Chris! Hello? Chris! Answer me goddamn it!”

You threw the corded walkie and dropped your head down and wailed. There was no hope at all you thought.

“I’m gonna die.”

You cried, finally letting out the angst and terror you were feeling. There was nothing positive about your current situation. You were in the middle of the ocean, practically alone while a storm was raging around you. people went missing like this, people died like this. You were suddenly so tired. A wave of water brushed against your feet but you didn’t think anything of it. You almost couldn’t lift your head.

“Ajali!”

As you lifted your head you saw Chris racing toward you.

“We have to get off this ship.”

“What!”

“The glass broke. We’re taking in water and sinking—fast!”

Hearing those words you found the energy to rise. “What do we do? Where’s Harper?”

“He’s lowering the life raft. Let’s go.”

Chris wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you along. When you made it down the steps to the deck you saw that it was completely filled with water.

“Oh my god.”

“It’s all right, I have you.”

He must have gotten tired of your hobbling because he scooped you up and hurried along treading through the now calf-level water.

“You’re freezing cold,” Chris mumbled.

“What are we gonna do?”

Chris reached Harper who looked as if he’d been through hell. From one glance you could tell he was hurt.

“Climb down first,” Harper said to you as Chris put you down.

You flinched as the saltwater wreaked devastation on your injured foot.

“I’m scared.”

“I know. it’s expected, you’re human. I need you to work through that fear though and climb down into the raft,” Chris reasoned.

You nodded and tried to get over not only the terror but also will your muscles to move through them being near frozen. You tried to move your legs in some coordination to climb over the railing but it was taking a bit of time on your own. Chris stepped closer and helped you to take the first step down the ladder. When your injured foot joined your other one it slipped and sent you down a few of them only stopping when you were able to get a grip on the metal.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.”

You slowly went down the remaining steps until you got to the last one and saw you’d need to jump off the railing to land in the raft. You took a few breathes, hoped that you made it in the raft and not in the ocean, and jumped. Landing on your back you couldn’t relax. It hit you that you were now in a life raft about to drift to god knows where. From above you heard the two men arguing back and forth over who should go next. When you saw Chris was the one climbing down the ladder you knew Harper had won.

It didn’t take him nearly as long as it took you. A few seconds later he’d jumped in next to you. The strong scent of gas immediately hit you.

“You smell like gas.”

Chris smelled himself then his eyes widened and pointed back to the ship. The two of you looked up just in time to see Harper bringing back up the ladder.

“What’re you doing? Come down!”

“No can do brother. This here is my ship and a captain always goes down with his ship.”

Your eyes widened in horror. He couldn’t be serious.

“That’s not funny Harper. The gas is leaking, there is no saving it. It isn’t worth your life. Come on, there’s time for you to save yourself too,” Chris rebutted.

“I’m long past saving,” Harper said lifting his shirt to show the large shard of glass that was sticking through his abdomen. It looked like it had gone right through him. You knew that if it were removed the chances of him living were zilch.

“Oh my god,” you mewled before clamping your hand over your mouth to stifle the wail that followed.

“Harper--,” Chris began but never finished.

“I always knew I’d die on this ship and that’s all right. I’m at peace with it. If I get in that raft with you I’d be doing you a disservice. Sharks would be on your tail in no time.”

Harper flung a pack over the railing into the raft.

“I’ve already pre-packed all the emergency packs in the raft. They’re in the side compartments as well as underneath the zipped platform of the bottom. These are things you’ll need wherever you wash up.”

Another bag followed the first and landed on the raft. “This one is some rations. Remember to conserve the water. You can survive without food longer than water.”

You cried louder while using your hand to muffle as much of the sound as you could.

“Come on man,” Chris pleaded.

Four more bags followed including your backpack. By then you’d fully lost it and had ventured into a nervous breakdown.

“Inside the raft, there is a transponder. I am going to set off the homing beacon on my ship it’ll give search and rescue some idea of where things went wrong. They’ll be able to follow the signal and rescue you no matter where you are.”

Harper bent forward and groaned. He must have been in so much pain you thought to yourself. On its own, your hand gripped the ripped hem of Chris’s tank and held it tightly. Chris glanced back at you and you saw the same anguish you felt.

“I’m sorry about this folks, I really am.” He paused and shook his head before he continued. “You have each other though.”

An explosion shook the vessel and lit up the sky behind Harper.

“That’s my cue. Get outta here. I’ll do my part. Remember live your way, it makes death a peaceful conclusion.”

With that Harper hobbled away holding the railing.

“Go!”

He disappeared from view leaving the two of you sitting in the raft, in the pouring rain heartbroken and terrified. Another explosion erupted and Chris sprang into motion yanking the cord that controlled the motor startup. He yanked it once, then twice until it sparked alive on the third try. You both looked to the ship unsure what to do. The decision had been made for you, there was nothing either of you could do but go.

Slowly the raft began to drift away from the sinking ship and neither of you could peel your eyes away. Two more explosions boomed and then Harper’s voice echoed out.

“I’m coming, Angie!”

“Oh my god,” you whispered dropping your head to the surface of the raft. Your cry was loud and showcased the tragic sadness before you.

You watched on before another and final grand explosion ripped the ship apart sending parts every which way.

“Fuck!”

Chris leapt for you throwing his body over yours using himself as a shield to protect you. The sound of flying metal around you only made you scream more and more. Still, Chris didn’t come off of you, he kept his body over yours while maneuvering the rod steering of the raft. After the sound of flying metal subsided and the warmth of fire died down Chris rolled off of you. There was nothing to be seen except the fire from the explosion that was quickly being extinguished as the rest of the ship sank to the depths of the ocean.

“Oh my god, Harper.”

“God,” Chris groaned out, dropping his head down. “Rest in peace.”

There it was. Death. It was staring you right in the face and you feared it hadn’t had its fill quite yet. Your sobs returned and soon they were the only sounds traveling across the water, along with the motor. Neither of you spoke for a few minutes as you both tried to digest everything that had just happened and how everything had gone so wrong.

“What’re we going to do?”

It was a question asked just above a whisper. A question that held so much uncertainty, a question that also brought so much fear with it. What were you going to do?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#hibiscus kisses fic #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x black reader #slow burn fanfic #vacation fic #black fanfiction #angst fanfic #chris evans au

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baecvlt · 4 years ago

Note

Do you write smut? If so, can I please get soft fem reader thigh-riding Byakuya? Thank you!!

Just Like Heaven

in which the reader thigh rides Byakuya Togami.

Byakuya Togami x Reader

smut smut smut

fem reader

requested by ✨: OMG THIS IDEA ITS BEAUTIFUL

warnings: nothing too major, but there is some choking, but its nothing terrible and its very briefly mentioned. also its byakuya: he’s a dick.

enjoy luvs xx (my apologizes if its short)

“You’ve been awfully quiet lately”

Y/N stared out the window, turning to face her lover. “I just,” she began, realizing she knew why she had been so quiet, but saying so would have flustered her,“I don’t know, honey”. “Oh, you know how pitiful you sound when you call me ‘honey’,” he cooed, but it was so backhanded. He walked towards you and cupped her face. She gasped when he did, his touch making her tremble. “Was that mean?”.

“You are mean”

“I can’t help it”

As those words slipped out of his mouth, he immediately pressed his lips onto hers. The desperation had gotten to her, her kisses in return were messier and rougher, taking Byakuya by surprise. “Hell,” he whispered, pulling away,“You wasted no time”. She didn’t respond as she was trying to catch her breath, but it was obvious to him what was wrong with her. She was like an animal in heat. Blood rushed to her cheeks leaving her all kind of flustered. He grinned at the girl, messing with her hair. “Say, why don’t you get yourself a nice glass of cold water,” he asked,“Then join me in the library when you can get ahold of yourself”. Blushing, she nodded and walked out of her room with her head down, walking towards the dining hall kitchen. She grabbed a cup of water, noticing Celeste had walked in and crossed her arms. Being nice, she said,“Hi”. Rather than say “hi” back, Celeste said,“You and that posh, blond, what’s his name... well, you know who I’m referring to, have been spending a good amount of time together”. She was silent.

“Are you both?-”

She finally caught onto Celeste’s suggestive tone. “Oh, nonono,” she blurted,“Absolutely not”. Celeste laughed softly, nodding. “Right. ‘Was foolish of me to assume such a quiet girl as yourself would involve yourself with him in such ways. I only asked because everyone else was wondering. I’ll be heading out now. Goodbye!”. Celeste walked away, leaving her flustered once again. Why was she so flustered? Well, that can only be answered if we dig deep into her mind, her dream state specifically. She dreamt of Byakuya. Her dreams (if captured) could be pieces of cinema for how detailed they were. For some reason, this one was a little too detailed. Imagery of Byakuya tearing off her dress and pinning her down made it difficult for her to be around him.

While they had this type relationship going on, it was never anything sexual. In fact, the most they’d done was that kiss earlier. What started off as a hateful gaze turned to playful verbal teasing; secretly holding hands to small kisses (with the occasional pet names). Now, Byakuya had taken it a step further with that kiss, but since she had the control in that situation, his tone suggested he wanted much more.

She walked to the second floor, heading for the library. She stood in front of the door, taking a deep breath before opening the door, ever so carefully. She peeked in first before stepping in, noticing Byakuya sitting in a chair and reading. He looked up at her. “You wanted to see me?,” she asked.

“Oh, Y/N. Glad you could make it. Lock the door.. the key’s hanging to your right”

She locked the door, stepping closer to him. He got up and showed her some files layed out on the table. “I was digging around in the archives and found rather interesting information,” he said. She looked at them, her eyes widening. “So we have possible suspects on the mastermind’s identity now, don’t we,” she asked. Byakuya nodded. He sat back down, looking at her up and down. He hummed, looking her up and down. His piercing blue eyes met hers as she turned to see him doing so. “Is there anything else you need, baby?”.

“Take off your panties”

Her heart sank as she stuttered,“W-What?”. He repeated himself: “Take them off”. She tried not to blush as she raised her dress on the sides and slid them off. She picked up her lacy panties, holding them. “Hand them to me”. She walked to him handing them over. “Tsk-tsk. These are quite the racy choice,” he smirked,“Come here”. He pat his lap, inviting her to straddle him. She was on, wrapping her arms around his neck and now he was kissing her, roughly. She whined as he grabbed her breasts, moving his hands to her hips. This made her move against his thigh, the friction making her throb. She moaned digging her nails into his back. Immediately, he knew she liked that. He began to bounce he a little. Her breath hitching as her legs squeezed the sides of his thigh, latching herself onto him. “You like that, don’t you?,” he teased, whispering in her ear.

“Yes...”

“Speak up, darling”

“Y-Yes!”

She began riding him on her own, but at her own pace, not trying to overwhelm herself so fast. Suddenly, his hand reached and gripped her throat, careful not to hurt her. “Poor girl,” he teased,“All worked up over what? Grinding on my leg like a pup? How cute”.

“Byakuya-”

“My pretty girl, getting off in front of all this surveillance. People watching, yet you behave as if we were in solitude. How pathetic”

“P-Please don’t say that, please”

“Is my girl gonna cum?”

The question rattled throughout her body. Her insides burned as she muttered a ‘yes’. “Cum for me, my pet,” he said looking deep into her eyes,“Come on”. Small whimpers and curses escaped her lips as she trembled. All Byakuya could think is how cute she was. “I’m gonna cum,” she whispered.

“Yeah?”

Before she could answer, his hands moved to her breasts. He teased him and she cried, begging him,“Please kiss me”. He tongued her down, her shaming worsened until finally, with a throaty moan, she came. “Good girl,” he teased, pushing her off slowly. She now sat on the floor trying to catch her breath. Byakuya checked out his thigh. He grabbed her jaw and made her look up at him. “You made quite the mess,” he said, kissing her forehead. He held his hand out, allowing her stand up. “What do we say?,” he asked.

“T-Thank you”

“Anytime”

Byakuya headed toward the door, but before he could open it, she stopped him. “Hey!”. He turned around. “Yes, my pet?”. She bit her lips, but finally asked,“Are you gonna give me my panties back?”. Byakuya laughed. “Right,” he said,“I must’ve forgotten”. He handed them to her. She put them on, her eyes on him.

“Are you waiting for me?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all! Just curious why”

“I, uh..”

He cleared his throat as he looked away and said,“I kind of do enjoy your company, so I was wondering if you wanted to come and explore the other floors with me. Catch up, maybe?”. She smiled, biting her lip.

“I’d love that”

“Great. Come along, now. There’s an unnecessary tension building up”

Once again he held out his hand. She smiled, holding it and following him. As exited the library, Makoto and Kyoko were outside. “Togami!,” Kyoko scoled him,“We’ve been searching for you endlessly. Where the hell’ve you been?”. Their eyes went straight to his hand holding hers. Rather than pull back and let go, he held her hand tighter. “Y/N and I were doing research in the library. We found interesting files and were just about to head out”. Makoto was silent, but spoke abruptly.

“Did you spill something on your lap?”

“No? What are you-”

That’s when he realized it was a complete other thing being referred to. “Oh, this?,” Byakuya asked,“Yes, I think I must’ve spilled something earlier today”. “But that looks rece-”.

“Makoto, when was the last time youve done laundry yourself to even begin to worry about what I’ve got on? Anyway, there are far more dire things to worry about. The file is on the desk. We’ll be heading off now”

Y/N admired how confident and prideful he walked past them, but once out of sight, he sighed. “I can hold your hand proudly. Hell, I might even kiss you every now and then,” he began,“but I draw the line at walking around with this on my leg”. “Yeah, we should probably get you dressed”. He nodded. As you walked you can think about what he said.

“You can be seen with me proudly?”

“You’re worth it”

“Oh”

You stopped at his door. He opened it, but before he could walk in, he stopped. Without looking back, he said,“I admire you, Y/N. Don’t let it get to your head, but I do. Anyway, I’ll be going now. See you around”. He closed the door, leaving her there. She smiled and headed to her room, thinking while he might be flawed, he isn’t a completely terrible person.

#fanfic #fan fiction #danganronpa #smut #danganronpa smut #danganronpa fic #byakuya togami #byakuya togami x reader #byakuya togami smut #x reader #send requests #send asks

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duskholland · 5 years ago

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The Fame Game (Prologue) | Tom Holland

Summary ↠ There’s just something about Tom Holland that makes your blood boil. He walks around like he owns the world, always with an unhelpful quip or irritating smirk on hand. You can’t stand him, and your feud has burned hard and bright for three years. Everything changes following an explosive evening at the Oscars, when a questionable encounter with the paparazzi lands you in some hot water with PR... fake dating au; enemies to lovers; actor!y/n.

Word count ↠ 4.6k

Warnings ↠ Alcohol, paparazzi, swearing, discussions of misogyny and the corruption of fame, Tom and Y/N are both very petty, dramatic assholes.

A/N ↠ Ahhh it’s here! I was really shocked by how many people responded to the announcement post for the series -- I hope so much that this doesn’t disappoint anyone lol. This series is my baby, and I’m very excited to share it with you all. Before we dive into the fake dating, we must first explore a very critical evening for Tom and Y/N... hahahah. This was a lot of fun to write. Please let me know if you’ve got any thoughts! :D

(Tom’s in the FFH premiere outfit because I’m still in love with that fit, and the jury’s out for whether or not the actual Tom needs glasses to see; this version of him just uses them as a fashion statement lmao)

((The biggest thank you ever to V, mischiefandi, for being this series’ no.1 supporter and proofing this -- love you mate))

Series masterpost

ZERO: The Oscars (Y)

The atmosphere at Vanity Fair’s Oscars after-party is electric.

The soft boom of the latest pop tunes seeps into the air, mixing with the warm lights and the sounds of clinking champagne flutes. The room holds Hollywood’s best, and it seems no matter which direction you tilt your head, your eyes find themselves settling over a familiar face. You’re walking amongst legends tonight, and as you throw back your third glass of champagne of the evening, you let a small smile unfurl across your lips.

It isn’t your first time attending the Oscars, but it is the first time you haven’t felt utterly out of your depth surrounded by people of this calibre. When you’d first started in the acting industry, you’d found it incredibly unsettling to enter a room full of Oscar-winners. Even now you remember how your hands had felt slick with sweat as you’d nervously been introduced to Meryl Streep and Viola Davis, and how you’d felt imposter syndrome on a scale you’d never imagined possible. Time and experience have brought you many things, but most importantly, they have gifted you confidence. You’re 24 now, and the string of achievements and nominations tied to your belt is so impressive that they deem you no longer an outsider at the Oscars; instead, it’s as if you’ve been accepted into the fold.

But for all the enjoyment of the lavish after-party, you can’t stop your mood from plummeting. It’s all fun and games until your eyes sweep the room and settle on a smirking figure standing in the corner:

Tom Holland.

Just the sight of him makes your nostrils flare.

You think it must be true what they say: once you start to dislike someone, it’s as if every single thing they do irritates you. This is how you feel with Tom. Even the smallest, most insignificant details about him somehow manage to annoy you. You cannot stand the smell of his hair gel, and you detest the way he stubbornly refuses to mend his phone screen. Your teeth grit together every time you see that smug smirking grin hanging from his lips, and you get worked up by the way he always seems to swagger around as if he owns the room. The grievances fall into several categories: his aesthetic choices, his generally smug demeanour, and his irritating personality, and it all fosters your deep, unyielding disapproval of the man.

Tom infuriates you beyond belief - beyond words. And he’s standing across the room right now, staring at you over the rim of his wine glass with a teasing smirk hanging from his stupid lips.

You try to ignore him at first. You lick your lips and return your attention to a conversation with some of your co-stars. You know better than to try and approach anyone else tonight. Your reputation, as your PR team likes to put it, is ‘fragile’ at the moment. A string of uncomplimentary ex-lovers and a few disgruntled directors have shattered your pristine public image, making you regarded as both a rising talent and loose cannon by the media. There’s been a common trend recently of news outlets dragging your name through the mud, and the desperate words of PR as they’d begged you not to cause a scene tonight drift through your mind as you contemplate wandering over to Tom.

You know it isn’t in your best interests to engage with the man - no matter the occasion, your conversations always end explosively - but Tom is just standing there, staring at you persistently, and you just can’t help it.

Your tongue flicks out across your lower lip as you feel his hot gaze trailing around your made-up cheek. His eyes are intense - holding power over you, to the point where you have you excuse yourself from your conversation. An exasperated sigh slips past your lips as you turn around, preparing yourself for your encounter. Your stare finds him, and it follows Tom as he strides across the party towards you, one hand hanging easily from his trouser pocket as the other clasps an intricately engraved wine glass.

The frown on your lips deepens the nearer Tom gets, and as more details of his figure draw into focus. He’s got his chestnut waves slicked back tonight, with a few stray strands hanging out across his forehead. It makes him look dishevelled, but in a devilishly handsome sort of way - which makes sense, given you’re reasonably sure he must have some kind of relationship with Lucifer himself. Stretched across the wide expanse of his shoulders is a deep burgundy suit, and it cages him in tightly, leaving little to the imagination. Your lips curl into a poisonous grimace as your eyes finally fall on the glasses perched on his nose; you’re sure Tom doesn’t even need glasses, and it riles you up to see him parading the frames as a fashion statement.

But perhaps the thing about his ensemble that annoys you the most is the fact that you can’t look away. No matter how hard you beg yourself, you can’t drag your gaze away from Tom’s swagger, or the tight hold he has on the stem of the glass, or the way his eyes dance with a dark, mischievous glint as he falls to a stop in front of you. Tom is many things to you, but it’s undeniable that you find him attractive, and that fact often keeps you seething well into the early hours of the morning.

“Y/N,” Tom greets, his voice dripping charm. “Lovely to see you again.” His thin pink lips twist up into a smirk, and you find yourself clenching your fingers into fists around the tender stem of your champagne flute.

“Tom.” You step forwards, and your lips catch at his cheek as you press a firm, unwavering greeting to his face. You feel his warm hand slip from his pocket, and it grazes across your hip as Tom holds you closer. “You look to be enjoying yourself.”

When you pull back, you linger near him, allowing Tom to return the gesture by pressing his hot mouth to your cheek. He smells of rich, overpowering cologne, and you scrunch your nose up as his lips burn against your skin.

“It’s quite the party tonight,” he returns, stepping back. Tom’s beady little brown eyes run across your figure, taking in the long designer gown and the decadent sparkly necklace hanging from your neck. He graces you with an approving nod. “Are you having a nice time?”

“I was.” You pause to take a long sip of champagne, finding comfort in the way the bubbles pop against your tongue. You hope the alcohol will help to take the edge off the way your heart has started to pound against your ribs. “It’s a shame you had to come over here and ruin my mood.”

“Couldn’t help but notice you were staring at me, love,” he says, “Thought maybe you had something you’d like to say to me.”

You feel a hot spike of irritation as his lips curve effortlessly around the word love. Tom has always been a fan of pet names. The ease in which they roll from his tongue in that smooth, accented voice never fails to charm the room, and though you like to think you’re immune to his allure, you can feel the word spinning around your head like a broken record.

“Not really,” you return coolly, maintaining your composure with the poise and precision of a seasoned actress. You even manage to flash him an apologetic smile. “No big award for you tonight, though? Must be heartbreaking.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Are you really still caught up on the BAFTA?” He asks, his voice lower and harder.

The mood between you dips, and instinctively you find yourself moving away into a quieter corner of the room. As you drift away from the hordes of celebrities guzzling champagne, it’s as if the facade between you breaks down. Your smirk becomes harder, your eyes less forgiving - and in return, Tom’s smile sours into a grimace, and he holds himself straighter. The masks you wear come off, leaving you both bare and exposed.

“No,” you respond darkly. You’re tucked away in the corner of the party, with your back almost against the wall as Tom lingers in front of you. Both of you have discarded your drinks glasses. “I couldn’t care less that you won the BAFTA, Tom. If the jury decided you were worthy, then you were worthy. I would have to be very unreasonable to disagree with the committee.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Y/N.” Tom tilts his head to the side, flashing the tips of his shiny white teeth as his mouth loosens into a wild smile.

“Fine.” You give him an excessive sigh, and you let your eyes drift towards his mouth. “I don’t buy it, Tom.”

Tom’s suit jacket breaks out into wrinkles as he crosses his arms across his chest. “You don’t buy what?”

“This act.”

Tom almost rolls his eyes again. “And which act are you referring to, Y/N?”

“The Mr Nice Guy Act, Thomas.” The way he flexes his jaw makes you lean nearer and smirk. “Everyone here thinks you’re such a wonderful man, but I see right through it.”

It’s hard to know precisely when your feelings towards Tom became so hostile, but you like to pinpoint the night of the BAFTAs in 2017 as the day you surpassed the point of no return. You were younger then - both of you - and things quickly got out of hand. You know Tom likes to pinpoint your ‘jealousy’ following his win and your snub at the awards show as the catalyst for your tumultuous relationship, but both of you know that night was the product of several cumulative events.

Your best friend had worked with Tom’s mate Harrison, all those years ago in 2016. You knew Harrison through her, and you got on well enough with him, so when the BAFTA academy had nominated both you and Tom as contenders for Rising Star, Harrison had orchestrated an exchange of phone numbers. However, given your packed schedule and press engagements, you had failed to respond to all of Tom’s attempts to contact you.

One thing led to another. Tom assumed you were dodging his texts and started bad-mouthing you to Harrison. Word travelled to you that this guy - the competition - was throwing shade to your name, and so you might have made a few choice remarks about him on Ellen and suggested that Tobey Maguire was the best Spider-Man. Whatever. It was all so petty and childish, and it’d escalated to boiling point on the night of the BAFTAs when Tom hadn’t been able to shut up and thrust his win right into your face - quite literally. You can still remember the way he’d clutched the trophy as he’d shown it off in all its grandeur.

Ever since then, your relationship has been poisonous. A case of miscommunication and petty jealousy turned hostile, and now you’re in far too deep to even think about mending the fractured dynamic.

“I am a nice guy,” Tom tells you. His eyes skim across your face, and you don’t miss the way they drag across the curve of your lower lip.

“As if.” You ponder which anecdote you should fall back on to prove your point, and it takes a while to select one: the pool of Tom’s past mistakes and moves against you is vast and wide. “Would a nice guy conveniently forget to invite me to Harrison’s birthday party?”

Tom winces, and something almost like regret flickers out across his face before he meets your eyes and hardens up his gaze. “I’ve already told you that was a case of miscommunication,” he says slowly, patronising. “I doubt you would have enjoyed it anyway, Y/N. Wasn’t exactly your type of party.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Your hand finds your waist, gripping firmly at your flesh to stop your fingers from shaking. The way Tom looks at you so intensely makes you feel strung-out and bare, and it’s almost as if he can see straight through you.

“It was a small, intimate gathering. From what I’ve been hearing, you’re a fan of the larger, more explosive parties, aren’t you?”

You could throttle him. You could really, truly throttle him. You know with certainty that Tom’s referring to the latest smear the media had run against you, which had placed you at an illegal rave in Downtown LA and cost you a role in a film you were passionate about.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the tabloids, Tom.”

“Maybe not.” Tom’s closer to you now. You find your back brushing up against the wall as he steps nearer yet again, his shiny leather shoes sparkling beneath the light curving out from the chandeliers. “I’d like to think I know you quite well, though, Y/N. We have known each other for several years.”

“I’d use the word ‘known’ very loosely if I were you. I think it’s more like, ‘been plagued by’, but you do you, Tom.”

He laughs, and this time the noise is lighter. You feel a little woozy from the champagne - or maybe it’s his cologne - and you let your hand wander up to rest on the top of Tom’s suit. You drag your fingers across the smooth material, marvelling at how soft the designer garb is to touch.

“Do you like my suit?” Tom asks, his voice lower than before. There’s a strange charge to the air between you, and you find yourself nodding.

“I disagree with the glasses, but your suit is decent. I have to admit that this colour looks flattering on you.” The bold burgundy tones bring out the warmth in his eyes, even if the stupid thin frames of his glasses obscure them. You watch as his pupils widen and feel the warmth of Tom’s breath as he inches in closer.

“Thanks,” he says. Tom’s hand winds around your waist. “Your dress is very nice.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling dry. You briefly wish that you had another glass of champagne to keep you occupied because you find your other hand joining the first and finding purchase on Tom’s shoulder. He’s very close to you, and there’s nowhere left to move because you’d backed up against the wall. Fleetingly you wonder what it must look like, to be hidden away at the back of the party and caged in like this, but you decide that the flurry of heated emotions passing through his eyes and the way his thumb pads over your waist is worth it.

Neither of you says a word, but you watch through wide eyes as Tom’s gaze flickers out across your lower lip. He inches in closer, almost painfully slowly, his demeanour radiating a shaky confidence as he tilts the angle of his head. You watch the hard lines of his mouth dissolve, and his smirk melts away into something like a smile as his eyes flutter shut. Now Tom is very close - so, so close - and the gap between your mouths narrows by the second.

He’s going to kiss you. You know he’s going to kiss you. Why is he going to kiss you? Why are you going to let him kiss you-

“Y/N! Hey, congrats on the film. I saw it last week with my wife, and she loved it-”

Tom springs back. You gasp a short breath of air as your eyes widen, and the film of scattered emotions that had temporarily disarmed you shatters. Tom’s cheeks are bright red, and he doesn’t seem to know where to look or what to do as he jams his hands into his trouser pockets and stares at the floor.

“-Oh, sorry, was I interrupting something?”

Your throat tickles as you shake your head, looking up to see Mark Ruffalo standing there, his expression relaxed but growing in confusion as he drinks in the awkward tension rippling between you and Tom.

“No,” you say immediately, a bite to your voice. You refuse to look at Tom. “You weren’t interrupting anything.”

Mark releases a breath of relief and launches back into his speech, complimenting you profusely on your performance. You become distracted as you listen to him, but not enough to forget about the way Tom had leaned closer and brushed his thumb across your side almost gently. After a few moments of conversation, you can’t stop yourself from glancing over towards Tom, only to notice that he’s slunk away elsewhere. His absence makes your heart twist.

Another hour slips away, and you find yourself returning to the Moët for release. You can feel your composure gliding away from you with each fateful sip. Tom seems to have vanished, and you find yourself questioning if he’s so embarrassed by your moment in the corner that he had to leave. You wonder if that would be better than him staying.

But eventually, your eyes seek him out, as they always seem to do. And you catch him chatting with a woman, his arm around her shoulders and his lips brushed against her ear. Tom seems to feel your gaze on him, and his deep brown eyes meet with yours. He raises his eyebrows and whispers something into the woman’s ear that makes her laugh, and it sends something whipping down your spine.

It isn’t just jealousy - it goes deeper than that. It’s the realisation that you could never get away with this behaviour. You know that if the roles were reversed and it was you who had been seen getting close to two men in one night, you would be assigned a whole host of derogatory names. The double standards that exist in this artificial world of cameras and headlines make you feel sick to your stomach. You are not jealous of the woman beneath Tom’s arm, though you will admit it makes you feel uneasy - it’s the hypocrisy of it all that makes you seethe.

“Excuse me,” you mutter to no one in particular. Tom’s eyes slip away from yours as you put down your empty glass and turn, heading in the direction of an exit. You wander the vast, glittering ballroom for a few moments before spying a door embedded in the back wall that leads out into a dark alleyway.

When you step out onto the street, the cold February air seems to bring your tipsiness to the forefront of your mind. You giggle softly to yourself and wrap your arms around your chest, your fingers rubbing rapid fiery circles across your exposed flesh as you try to drum up a heat.

You lean back against the wall and stare up at the vacant sky. LA is too polluted to see the stars, but you like to imagine they’re staring down back at you. In the distance, you can hear the sounds of laughter coming out from the hall, and out at the end of the alley you can see the street, cloaked in dark paparazzi vans and dim amber street-lamps, but tucked away up here alone, you feel at peace.

“Cinderella runs away from the ball, yet again.”

You scowl. Your eyes move away from the dark blanket of clouds to see Tom. He’s ditched the glasses, but you can see the legs sticking out from the pocket sewn to the top of his suit.

“Joined by her ugly pumpkin.” You screw up your nose at your own words, cursing your fizzled mind for messing up the tale. “That’s not right, is it?”

Tom approaches you, his cheeks full of a rosy tipsiness. “Dunno,” he murmurs. “Think I like it better than being called your ugly sister, though.”

“Ew.”

You share a loud, unruly laugh with Tom, your voices mixing almost melodically. When you sigh, you lean further against the wall.

“I hate it in there,” you find yourself admitting. “So many people were talking about me behind my back. It’s like they think I can’t tell that they’ve just been discussing me when I walk over and the conversation falls silent.” You slot your fingers together and play around with your thumbs. “Everything is so fake. It’s like a game to them.”

A cool breeze floats down the alley, and you find yourself shivering.

“It is a game,” Tom says slowly, all whilst slipping off his suit jacket. He holds it out to you, raising an eyebrow when you shake your head. “It’s cold, Y/N. I know you’re stubborn, but neither of us wants you to freeze out here.”

The mood between you feels tender, and you let yourself accept his warm jacket. You throw it across your shoulders and feel the warm embrace of his suit, and the husky traces of cologne nestled to the fabric, but Tom’s looking at you with an intense gaze, and the sight of his golden browns draws you back to the scenes from inside the party.

“Saw you chatting with a woman inside,” you say, words a little sharper. “Trying to see how many times you have to try it on before someone bites?”

Tom flinches. The air fills with the sound of him clicking his tongue as he rubs his hands together. “You are so fucking petty, Y/N.”

You raise an eyebrow, responding to his clipped voice with surprise. “Hit a nerve, have I?”

He groans softly. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I shouldn’t swear at you. You just get under my bloody skin.”

You shrug. “You’ve said worse.”

“So have you.”

“Only because you deserve it.”

Tom’s bearing in on you again, but this time you feel more at ease. The scent of his cologne mixes with the sweet champagne that lays fresh across your palette, and it makes you feel delirious. You can’t stop yourself from reaching up and draping your hands across his shoulders, bringing him nearer.

“You drive me crazy,” Tom admits. His voice is husky, his eyes dark and intense. In the slight breeze, strands of his hair waft across his forehead.

“I can’t stand you,” you return. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as his hands dig into your waist. The rough render on the building behind you digs into your back as you loop your arms around Tom’s neck and bring him in closer.

“Neither can I, darling.”

It’s like magnetism - some sort of invisible force pulling you in before you can even fathom it. One moment you’re staring at Tom, scepticism in your eyes and anxiety thick in your chest, the next he’s surged forwards and captured your lips in a messy, sensational kiss. You gasp into his mouth, and your fingers tighten against the short hair at the nape of his neck as you kiss him back harshly. Your noses bump and your teeth collide as Tom grabs at your sides with fervour, and having him clutching at you is so hot that it takes your breath away. The kiss is messy and hurried, and it seems to melt down all the built-up tension and frustration you’ve been nurturing for years. It makes your head hurt, and all you can focus on is how crazy it is that you are kissing Tom Holland - and, horrifyingly, how much you don’t seem to hate it.

It comes crashing down when there’s a round of flashes, and you hear the telltale sound of paparazzi photographs.

“Shit!” You push Tom away from you immediately, your breath hitching as your head snaps down to the end of the alley. Unbeknownst to either of you, you’ve been spotted by the men with those large, invasive lenses. The flashes continue, and you turn away, your actions almost in slow motion as you feel a wave of nausea travel across your chest.

“Y/N!”

“Tom, Tom!”

“Are you dating?”

“Having a bit of fun tonight, Y/N?”

A chorus of cataclysmic yells come racing down the alley and the howls of the paparazzi mix with the loud sound of camera shutters.

“Fuck.” Tom grabs your arm, and he pulls you away from them, bringing you both back into the party. There’s a tightness in your chest as you gasp for breath, walking in dizzying strides as you card your fingers through your hair anxiously.

“No, no, no,” you mutter to yourself. You can hear the calls of the paparazzi ringing in your ears, and you dig your fingers into your temples for relief as you snap your head to glare at Tom. “Why did you just kiss me? What’s wrong with you?”

Tom looks pale, and his eyes are round with shock, but he still manages to stare at you incredulously. “You kissed me too?”

You bury your head in your hands. “This is it - this is the last straw. They’re going to have a field day with this.” You peek out at Tom through gaps in your fingers, laughing humourlessly. Your chest burns as you take in his disarmed expression and his deep chocolate eyes. “This is the end.”

“It… It was just one kiss.”

You shake your head furiously. “They’ll run with it. They’ll make a spectacle of us.” Your nails dig into the soft palms of your hands. “You are such an asshole.”

Tom’s mouth, a little red and puffy, twists into something of a snarl. “You kissed me! Why is this my fault?”

“It’s always your fault.” You pause and shake your head. You can’t help but fall back on the naive thought that this truly is all Tom’s fault. You’d been fine before him. You’d been looking into the starless sky. You’d been at peace. He’d just had to waltz on out and trick you into his lips. “Well, I hope you enjoy the end of your career.”

He raises a thin eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ve been associated with me, which is the equivalent of getting a big black line scored right across your name.” You reach up and jerk his jacket from your shoulders, and roughly shove it back into Tom’s hands.

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“Really?” Your gaze hardens. “This is all just a game, Tom, don’t you see? We don’t get to decide who stays on top.” You laugh humourlessly, your tongue tasting sourly of champagne. “We have fucked up.”

Tom sets his jaw. One by one, he stuffs his arms through his suit jacket and tugs it back around his body, sinking into it forcibly. He pulls his glasses from the pocket and places them back on the bridge of his nose, balancing them crookedly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Tom remarks, his voice cold and sharp. You briefly wonder if he understands the magnitude of the situation, and as he sweeps away without so much as a kiss on the cheek goodbye, you realise he probably does.

Without yet wholly understanding it, one drunken kiss has sealed your fate. As you stand there, twiddling with your thumbs in the back corner of the Vanity Fair party, your mind races. You know with absolute certainty that things will never be the same again, but not even your wildest dreams could compare to what is about to come.

buckle up bc I’m about to take us on a ride and a half. may as well have ended this with an ellipsis lmao.

↠ next part

any thoughts?! I am actually dying to know what you’re thinking lmao!! my askbox is open :D

taglist can be found in the series masterpost, which is the pinned post at the top of my blog

masterlist linked in my description

#tom holland #Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland x y/n #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland series #Tom Holland fic #tfg #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #my writing

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lesdemonium · 5 years ago

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romtober day 1: fake dating

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2421 Summary: Jaskier is invited to his parent's annual banquet, and to keep the nobles (and his parents) off his back, he asks Geralt to pose as his husband. Geralt completes this task a little too well.

read on ao3

The banquet was the picture of opulence. Not a single expense was spared, and Jaskier could read the envy in the partygoers eyes as he passed them. His mother really had outdone herself this time; even Jaskier had to admit he was impressed. It was difficult for him to admit that, considering his family was as close to the heart--and hurt feelings--as they were.

Even the music was amazing. Now that took some effort to admit to. It would have been better, of course, if he’d had the opportunity to play for the banquet, but Jaskier knew that was a far-fetched idea at best. His mother and father still liked to tell the other “respectable” company that he was off studying, taking his time and exploring the world, before he came back to accept his title and lands. Truly, it was giving him a good head on his shoulders, allowing him to be worldly and lead the people of Lettenhove with grace and wisdom. It helped that they only referred to their wayward son as Julian; even in these circles, Jaskier was proud to say his stage name carried.

Despite the beauty, despite the fine wine and food, despite the beautiful lords and ladies around him, Jaskier was having a terrible night. It was his own fault, he knew. When he had received his invitation--really a summons, as Jaskier knew he had little choice but to accept--he had panicked. Another event in which his parents tried to court him into staying and taking over as Count, and tried to get him to court a lady or two of agreeable upbringing. Jaskier couldn’t stomach the dread. So he had asked Geralt for a favor.

Geralt was delivering.

“Darling,” Geralt started, drawing Jaskier’s attention back to the task at hand--a conversation with the Duke of some township or other. The hand Geralt had on the small of Jaskier’s back sent shocks of heat through Jaskier’s body, every time it moved ever-so-slightly. “There was a vineyard in Dorian, wasn’t there? The one where the owner gave you five bottles?”

That was an interesting retelling. Much more polite than saying that Jaskier stole the bottles after the owner had insulted Witchers and tried to cheat Geralt out of his pay for dispatching a pack of drowners tainting the water supply. Jaskier was learning a lot about just how talented Geralt could be at traversing a crowd of nobles--when he wanted to.

“Ah, there’s some controversy over that. Technically, when the borders changed, that vineyard moved to Maribor. Ask any of the workers, though, and it’s still in Dorian,” Jaskier answered, just barely remembering to add a smile at the end.

The duke guffawed and wagged his finger at Geralt; apparently Jaskier had managed to settle something for them, but Jaskier hadn’t been listening to the rest of the conversation. He wasn’t listening now, even, as Geralt continued on with the Duke as if this was something he just did on a regular basis.

Geralt was baffling. Jaskier had expected him to say no to Jaskier’s favor. Why would he want to pretend to be Jaskier’s husband at the party Jaskier’s parents threw every year? Even Jaskier didn’t want to go, which might have been partly why he even asked Geralt in the first place. Part of him was holding out hope that Geralt would give him an out.

Instead, Geralt had not only agreed, but had listened to every bit of advice and every pointer Jaskier had given him. All night he had been impressive--he had even managed to charm Jaskier’s mother. Jaskier did not often find himself at a loss for words, but apparently watching Geralt entertain a noble with stories of monster slaying with an unfortunately well-behaved hand on the small of Jaskier’s back was enough to render Jaskier speechless for hours. He had been the disappointing one all night.

“Excuse me,” Jaskier said, bowing a little as he shrugged himself out of Geralt’s grasp. It was rude, Jaskier knew, and if Geralt had done it he would have… well, he would have expected it, and maybe would have silently thanked him for the out, while outwardly complaining about his lack of decorum. But Geralt had been the picture of grace all night. Jaskier was the one that had been disheveled and thrown off guard and, at times, downright rude.

Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to care at the moment, however. Let the nobles talk. He knew they all would as soon as they left no matter what happened tonight, so Jaskier might as well underperform rather than living up to the lies his parents were no doubt telling the other people of the court.

The night air was crisp and cool against his face as Jaskier pushed the doors open onto the balcony. Technically, this area was off limits. No guest was allowed here and the servants had gone to great lengths to make sure that no one made it out here. But what were they to do when the Viscount of Lettenhove was the one trying to escape to his parent’s balcony?

Finally, Jaskier felt as if he could breathe. It should have been a relief to have Geralt so willing and helpful, and really he had been completely wonderful all night. Far better than Jaskier would have ever expected. And yet, he was so thrown off and upset by it. It would have been so easy to just lean into this, to accept Geralt’s exemplary behavior and pretend, just for a night, that Geralt regularly called him things like “darling” and “love.” That Geralt kept a hand on him at all times. That Geralt checked up on him when Jaskier left abruptly. As he did now.

“I must ask you to return--” a servant started, but Jaskier cut her off.

“It’s alright, Orla. He’s my husband,” Jaskier said, and even he winced at how bitter his voice sounded. He didn’t turn to see if anyone else noticed, though. Instead, Jaskier leaned against the railing, his forearms resting on the cold stone as he stared out over the grounds.

He heard rustling behind him and a door closing, but it was still a moment longer before Geralt joined him against the stone wall. There was still a space between them and Geralt, bless him, seemed almost hesitant to step closer.

“What’s wrong?” Geralt asked, finally leaning against the stone beside Jaskier.

Jaskier huffed an extremely forced laugh. “Wrong? What could be wrong? You’ve only been perfect all night. Everyone loves you. Even my mother, who could find fault in a saint.”

“And… that’s a problem?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier could almost picture the way his eyebrows must have been knitted in confusion.

Jaskier sighed, then buried his face in his hands. “No, darling, of course not. You’re doing exactly what I asked. You’ve made a wonderful impression and have made everything far easier for me.”

Geralt stood silent beside Jaskier, probably trying to decipher what, exactly, Jaskier was going on about. Jaskier wished he could do more to help, but Jaskier was just as flummoxed. This should have been perfect; a night Jaskier would tease Geralt about for years to come. Jaskier should have been preening under the attention and prideful over how much the other partygoers enjoyed Geralt. Instead, he felt empty and cold and as if he was missing something.

“You don’t seem like you in there,” Jaskier finally settled on.

The truth was far too big for him to speak just yet, so he settled for a half truth. The man inside wasn’t the Geralt Jaskier knew and loved, and neither the man inside nor the man outside was a Geralt that belonged to Jaskier.

“I thought you didn’t want me to be me. I thought you wanted me to be your husband,” Geralt said, and his voice was just a touch too serious for his teasing to be believable.

Jaskier straightened up and met Geralt’s eye, finally. Geralt looked lost, like a little boy who was just trying so desperately to be good, and coming up short. Or, perhaps Jaskier was projecting, since that was the way he often felt, especially when he was in Lettenhove. Geralt had a hand on the stone wall, and Jaskier covered it with his own.

“I always want you to be you. I’m sorry I made it seem as if I would ever want someone else,” Jaskier mumbled. He took a moment to stare at their hands, before finding Geralt’s eyes again. “This is all just a bit… much.”

Geralt hesitated a moment, then took a step forward. His hand turned beneath Jaskier’s and he took Jaskier’s fingers, his thumb running absently over Jaskier’s knuckles. Jaskier waited, but Geralt didn’t say anything, and Jaskier found he wasn’t surprised. The silence hung between them as they both waited for Jaskier--of course it would be Jaskier--to break it.

“I don’t think I knew what I was asking for when I asked you to do this,” Jaskier whispered, and he took a step closer to Geralt. The tips of their shoes just barely brushed together and if Jaskier wanted to, it would only take a quick sway to bring their lips together. “I don’t think I asked for the right thing.”

Geralt hummed. “What would you ask for now?”

“For you to accompany me. As yourself. Rather than as a puppet or novelty for the court,” Jaskier started. He wanted to say more, opened his mouth again to do so, but the words died in his throat.

Geralt’s eyebrow raised. “I doubt your mother would approve of me as I am for your husband. Didn’t you want to avoid her appeals to court suitable ladies?”

Jaskier looked away. Back over at the gardens. Geralt’s fingers tightened around his, as if Geralt was afraid Jaskier would pull away. This felt different than the hand at Jaskier’s back, but had Jaskier’s heart beating faster nonetheless. “I shouldn’t have had you pose as my husband at all.”

There was a long silence, and it wasn’t until Geralt tapped Jaskier’s hand with his thumb that Jaskier realized Geralt was waiting for Jaskier to continue. To explain. Jaskier sighed.

“You’ve been amazing in there. I didn’t expect you to… be so wonderfully physically affectionate, or use pet names, or talk me up and be otherwise… casually affectionate. Truly, you are a master at your craft, and if this whole witchering business goes to the wayside, you should consider a future on the stage.” Jaskier huffed and bit the inside of his cheek. He would keep himself together. “It’s easy to believe it’s all real. You play the part so well. There’s not a single person in there that doesn’t believe us as a couple, and sometimes even I forget.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said. His voice was low, firm. Get to the point, Jaskier heard.

“I don’t want to spend a night pretending. I don’t want to enjoy myself too much, only to wake up to reality come morning.” He pulled his hand back from Geralt’s grasp and swiped it over his face. “I’m sorry, I thought I had a better handle on myself than this. I thought I could separate reality from fiction, but apparently I have fooled myself too thoroughly.”

The embarrassment rose through his body to paint his cheeks a vibrant, hot shade of red, and Jaskier could not bring himself to look at Geralt again as he turned toward the doorway.

“We should go back inside. I’ll get it together, and we can continue on as if--”

“We could start smaller,” Geralt interrupted, taking Jaskier’s hand again and using it as leverage to pull him back. Jaskier allowed himself to be pulled, and faced Geralt again, his eyebrows furrowed in his confusion. “Make reality. Different.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier started. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried, very carefully, to find the words he was looking for. Nothing sounded right. “You’re not proposing--”

“I’m proposing we change tomorrow, rather than tonight,” Geralt answered. He took a step closer to Jaskier, his free hand cupping Jaskier’s hip. “Build up to tonight.”

Geralt dropped Jaskier’s hand in favor of trailing his fingertips along Jaskier’s cheekbones, his jawline, his lips. Jaskier found himself breathless, almost dizzy, and he closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that this was real. It seemed far more likely that he had managed to stumble, hit his head on one of the many heavy, solid, and jagged rocks, and was now having a very imaginative, blunt-force-trauma-induced dream.

“Geralt, I’m afraid I might have been struck with delirium. It feels rather like if I asked you to kiss me, you would,” Jaskier whispered. Surely his imagination wasn’t good enough to create the feeling of Geralt’s thumb shifting as Jaskier’s lips moved. Jaskier may have to come to the conclusion that this was real.

“Why don’t you try it, bard?”

Jaskier let out the breath he had been holding, and rested his hands on Geralt’s hips. He opened his eyes again to find Geralt staring at him with probably the softed, most fond smile Jaskier had ever seen on his face. It was that smile, that barely-there tick of the corners of his lips that gave Jaskier his courage. Jaskier smiled back, just as small and soft, and Geralt stopped tracing Jaskier’s lips and held his face instead.

“Please kiss me,” Jaskier breathed.

The words were barely out of Jaskier’s mouth before they were swallowed into Geralt’s. Jaskier’s arms wove themselves around Geralt’s back, pulling him closer, and Geralt’s hand crept up Jaskier’s back as well. Geralt still held his face, cradling Jaskier’s cheek carefully, no matter how they moved together.

The air was just as cool as it had been when Jaskier stepped outside, but now Jaskier found himself warmed by the heat of Geralt’s lips. He put every ounce of longing into the kiss, and was almost surprised to find just as much wanting in Geralt. They had wasted time, so much time, but Jaskier was already quite fond of their methods for making up for that.

Finally, they had to part. Neither strayed far, though. Their foreheads pressed together, their breaths intertwined as Jaskier’s heart settled. Geralt’s thumb stroked Jaskier’s cheek, and Jaskier could hardly hear the din of the banquet hall over his own disjointed, trailing, endlessly giddy thoughts.

“If I ask you again tomorrow, will your answer be the same?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt hummed. “And every day after that,” he answered.

#my writing #octoberfest #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier fanfic #i'm so bad at tagging things #put me out of my misery and just read this fluff #lmao #romtober

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