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starstruckserenity · 1 year ago

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okay, so... this wasn't a request, but i just wanted to share a fic i posted recently on ao3! it is a bit sloppy and ooc, as i rushed through it in about an hour.

Prom was something you never saw yourself attending. Although you thought it was a huge cliche, prom was undoubtedly an evening that every high-schooler should cherish and remember. You remember thinking to yourself that it wouldn't hurt to go, especially with how it was described. Plus, you didn't have anything better to do.

But with how it was going, it was pretty clear it would just be like every other party, with you glued to a corner, desperately attempting to distract yourself.

You stuck out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else. Especially considering the fact that you had made exactly zero new friends this year, and you were well into your semester. You were too afraid to even *think* about speaking to anyone who happened to be in your classes.

You were stuck to the wall, drumming your left fingers against the surface with a seemingly alcoholic drink tucked securely in your right hand. Someone must have spiked this while the supervisors weren't looking, you mused. Honestly, you just grab the drink so you could have an excuse to look preoccupied and therefore NOT awkward. Even though you were. You were terribly, terribly nervous. Maybe getting yourself drunk wouldn't be such a bad idea.

The bustling and uncontrollable sounds of dirty shoes terrorizing the floor was almost as loud as the generic rock songs blasting from the bulky amp carelessly plugged into the corner of the gymnasium; almost as loud as the way your head was throbbing --- like a sick melody bouncing through your head, like a fast paced heartbeat jerking around in your skull…. you couldn’t shake your weary thoughts away with the way crowds of people that would push and bump against you from time to time, distressing you further with little effort.

The amount of people bouncing around made you sick as you watched them intensely. You analyzed the way they cheered as the next song played. As per usual, it was generic and poppy. God, you envied their happiness. You wished you could be this carefree. But in social outings like this, "carefree" was a word that had no meaning to you. You could never play it cool when it came to people, and even more so when it came to people your age. You could only imagine how many people were staring at you.

...Judging you. What wasn't there to judge about you? You didn't even think about wearing anything fancy. The best you could do was a sweater and some dress pants. Nothing special, nothing noteworthy. Everyone was so well adorned, you knew you could never compare.

This thought startled you, and made you forcefully turn you head to face the wall you had been standing against. You broke out into a cold sweat, wanting nothing more than to slip into your bed and sleep for the rest of the night. You heard shuffling at your side but thought nothing of it.

And with every new beat that played, your ears rang more and more. At the very least, it helped manage your racing thoughts. You sighed, slumping your head further against the cold surface. Is THIS what prom was supposed to be? How fun. It wasn't anything like the movies. You paid good money for your prom ticket. You might as well just end your suffering and head straight home.

As you turned your head around, preparing yourself to leave, you let out a sharp gasp. You caught eyes with one of your classmates, Kokichi Ouma. It was hard to NOT know who he was. He was insanely disliked schoolwide for his childish and immature mannerisms. But even with the mass hate he faced, he managed to endure it flawlessly. (Admittedly, you admired him for this fact) And at times, you even caught him retorting against those who confronted him, leaving them frustrated and defeated. You knew he wasn't someone to mess with. He was a pathological liar, he could easily break you down and spit you out. In all honesty, you feared him.

But lo and behold, he was standing right in front of your eyes, leaning against the same wall that you had previously been slumped against, eyeing you with interest. He was wearing a white suit, that seemed to be neatly ironed. To accompany his suit, he wore a long checkered tie that ran down his chest. It was uncommon for Kokichi to look so neat...

Right, it was Kokichi.

Oh, oh God. Oh GOD.

You KNEW you were going to be struck with the most foul, out-of-pocket insults you could imagine. Mercy was out of the question, as he had seen you in such a pathetic position... there was nothing you could do but just close your eyes tightly, hold your hands to your chest and brace yourself for what was to come. At least he would look good while degrading you.

...Dead silence. At least, between you two. The speakers kept persisting against the situation and music continued to blare.

You quivered, shaking in place. Kokichi stared at you, his eyes wide in a rare moment of shock. He blinked in confusion, lips pursed into a thin line.

"Uh..." He began. "What the hell are you doing?" Kokichi's lips curled into a smirk as you opened your eyes and glanced at him teary-eyed. You waited for him to say something outrageous, to pull some kind of prank on you, to hurt you in some kind of way, but nothing came.

You opened your mouth to speak and closed it again, and repeated the process once more like a fish depraved of ocean water. "What do you mean?" You responded, completely starstruck at the fact you hadn't run out of the gym in embarrassment already.

"I just came here to check on you. You were pushed up against that wall for, what? 30 minutes? I thought you were dead. Turns out you're not." Kokichi giggled to himself.

"You're Y/N, right? You're in my chemistry class. You're a loner, aren't you? I can fix that."

You nodded, playing with the ends of your hair.

Your fear turned to genuine surprise at the fact that *THE* Kokichi Ouma was concerned if YOU were alive or not. Holy fuck! For some odd reason, this revelation made your heart flutter a bit. Did he really, truly, actually *care*? Well, at the very least, you were just extremely happy he wasn't tormenting you like anyone else. You felt almost... euphoric...! Someone actually bothered to talk to you! Even if it meant you had to speak to someone as controversial as him, you didn't mind one bit!

After you were done recollecting your thoughts, you quietly spoke.

"...Thank you for being concerned. Uh, sorry for making you worry."

The music seemed to play louder. "WHAT?" Kokichi yelled.

You jumped at the sudden change in his volume, but you attempted to respond to him in the same tone.

"I SAID, THANK YOU! SORRY!" You blurted out, cringing at the sound of your own voice. You hadn't been so loud in a while. Even though it strained your voice, it was fun. You smiled a bit.

"DO YOU WANT TO DANCE?" Kokichi screamed back, being barely legible. It was almost like he completely ignored your previous remark. You cocked your head to the side, cupping your mouth.

"...WHAT?"

But before you could say another word, he swiftly took ahold of your wrist, making your grip loosen on your cup. This caused the contents to spill all across the floor, streaking into a large, wet puddle. "Kokichi, my-!" You shrieked at him in an attempt to acknowledge the mess, but he simply tossed the both of you onto the dancefloor. He turned around to look at you, grinning from ear to ear.

"C'mon, Y/N! Don't worry about that! Live a little!"

Kokichi pulled close to him and placed your hands against his chest before launching you away from him, your arms being the only thing still connected to each other. You yelped in surprise before he drew you back with both of his hands in and began spinning the two of you around. He laughed, his hair swung as the two of your bodies did the same. Your feet stumbled against one another as you tried to keep up with Kokichi's fast pace.

He stopped spinning, and quickly grabbed your waist. You sucked in a breath and looked at him before he dipped you lowly. You kicked one of your legs up as a reflex, feeling the tips of your hair touch the dirty floor. You already felt sick from the way you were twirling around before and the way your heart was pounding wildly in your chest wasn't helping your illness.

He beamed from above you, his eyebrows raised in approval as his lavender eyes pierced into yours. You blushed at your proximity. This was SO cliche. But you loved it.

"I didn't know you were a dancer!" He remarked loudly.

You gulped, a small smile made its way to your lips. "I'm not...!"

And to think that you had been scared of him... to think that you hadn't spoke to each other formally until a little while ago. Being around him for the first time made all your stress melt away. Even if you were surrounded by your fear of him, you couldn't lie and say you didn't admire the way he could be so... happy. He was the definition of "carefree", for better or for worse.

You prayed that this was real, you prayed that he wasn't being cruel and lying to you.

You prayed that this was real when the music began to slow down, when he helped you back into his chest and worked his way into awkwardly slow-dancing with you. You prayed that this was real when you two swayed together and he held you like you were lovers in a past life. You prayed that this was real when students began to slowly trickle out of the doorways when everything was said and done. You prayed that this was real when you were walking home together and he slipped his number into your hand and said;

"Let's hang out again some time, Y/N. You're fun, that's for sure."

ao3 link ; https://archiveofourown.org/works/48897379

#danganronpa x reader #kokichi x reader

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saltydumplings · 2 years ago

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Hello, Salty,

I have a need for another part of prompt 17.

I promise nothing will happen to you if you write it.

Make it as Horny as you can/want.

Snippet #17.2

Part 2

Holy mother of horny asks. I shall take all cookies and ice cream, and I shall add some extra spice. Bob, I don't trust that promise AT ALL. WHY DO YOU HAVE TO STATE THAT NOTHING WILL HAPPEN TO ME IF NOTHING WILL HAPPEN TO ME - THIS IS VERY SUSPICIOUS WORDING. Anyway, this turned out longer than I thought so I had to like cut what I had planned in two lol.

Cw: in case you couldn't tell from the asks - SUGGESTIVE

It was all about presentation.

The hero smiled to themself as they lay down upon the bed, idly flicking through the pages of a book they quite honestly couldn't give less of a damn about. The villain should be coming back anytime now, and they were bound to run into the henchman within minutes of their arrival - bound to see the collar that still lay about the other's neck. The hero would be in trouble for sure. They knew that; they loved that. But, bypassing their moment of indulgence with the henchman earlier - the fact that they had been the first to touch the villain's most beloved little pet sure to drive the other mad with envy - they also knew that they would be equally rewarded for their work: the villain was stubborn and would have never made the first move, let alone even suspect that such a move may very much be wanted.

Sometimes the hero truly wondered how the villain had ever had any relationships before them. From experience, they could quite accurately say that the other was oblivious. Blind too. If the hero wasn't so forward in everything they did, nor so confident when it came to taking what they wanted, they doubted the villain would have ever figured out that their feelings were returned. The case of the henchman only proved the hero's theory more: almost eight years they'd worked for the villain, yet when the hero had asked whether there was something more to their relationship the villain had merely blushed a little and said that the henchman was simply committed to their work. For someone so smart, the villain could be quite stupid at times. The hero loved that though - would tease the other about it continuously until they snapped--

The door to the room opened.

The hero could barely contain their grin so they ended up biting their lower lip, keeping their gaze focused down to the book in front of them and their back turned as they heard someone enter the room.

"How was the mission?" they asked.

The footsteps stopped and there was a pause, then:

"It went fine," the villain said evenly, though the hero caught onto the slight edge they had in their voice. "The plan went off without a hitch, naturally..." The bed dipped down behind them but still they didn't look back. "And how was your day? Do anything fun whilst I was out?"

"Not particularly." The hero flipped the page over. "I just had a little...relaxation time."

The villain knew they were lying. And the hero knew that the villain knew that they were lying. Still it wouldn't stop them from playing their favourite game - engaging in a dance of words that they both knew the hero would never win.

A few seconds passed and the villain hummed, one hand coming to rest upon the hero's waist as they leaned over them, lips brushing against the shell of their ear. "So, I don't suppose you were the one who stole my keys then?"

The hero closed the book and turned around, an innocent pout adorning their face as they came to return their lover's embrace. "Someone stole your keys?" they asked.

"Yes," the villain said, "and unfortunately for you, love--" The villain's hand claimed their chin, tilting the hero's head back to ensure the other was meeting their gaze "--though I'm sure you locked that drawer and hid the keys somewhere very clever, you seem to have missed one rather damning piece of evidence."

"Oh? And what would that be?"

The villain sat back up then, tilting their head back towards the door as they called for the person waiting behind it. The henchman walked through immediately, eyes directed down at the floor and a heavy blush already adorning their cheeks as they stepped into the room and locked the door behind them - following the villain's instruction carefully.

"Henchman, come here."

The villain pointed to the foot of the bed and the other obeyed, the hero now sitting up too and shuddering as the villain's hand came to grip their hair, forcing them to stay upright and watch.

"Kneel," the villain said, and the henchman did - their gaze turning upwards as the tip of the villain's boot caught beneath their chin and nudged their head back very slowly.

They were adorable. The hero let their eyes wander down the henchman's frame, already knowing exactly what lay beneath the uniform they wore. The other had been a little shy at first but very, very willing. They had followed each of the hero's directions perfectly and got flustered at the slightest touch; so desperate and yet so obedient, the hero had reduced them to a beautiful, begging mess in just a few minutes - after the henchman had given them what they wanted, of course.

For a moment, the hero got lost in that thought, only coming to when the villain's grip on their hair tightened.

"Focus now, love," the villain said.

"I am focusing."

"Good. Now tell me," the villain began, motioning to the kneeling henchman before them, "do you recognise anything?"

The collar. Obviously.

The hero kept that thought to themself though, merely responding to the villain with a dismissive shrug.

"Nothing?" the other prompted. "Nothing...at all?"

The villain's hand moved down from their hair to tug at the back of their own collar, the hero's breath hitching at the small warning - not missing the way the henchman watched the action intently, fidgetting a little from their position on the floor.

"Well," they said, finally starting to cave, "I guess that collar does seem somewhat familiar."

"Anything else?" Again the villain's boot caught the henchman's chin, this time gently guiding their head to the right slightly - revealing what was engraved into the side of the collar clearly.

The hero smiled. "My initials suit them perfect--"

They cut off with a gasp as the villain tugged back on their hair sharply, their hands gripping onto the bedsheets below them to keep their balance.

"Careful now, Hero. You don't want to be in more trouble, do you?" the villain said.

The hero whimpered a little as the hold on their hair tightened but still they decided to push their luck. "You're just jealous," they responded. "You've been trying to figure out what was beneath that uniform for seven years and all it took me was a few months."

Silence.

Below them, the henchman's eyes had gone wide - barely believing the hero had the courage to say what they did, but they needn't have worried: the hero knew exactly what they were doing. The villain's stare was practically ablaze, expression murderous but the hero could see beyond that, noting the faintest traces of pink that coloured the other's cheeks. A few seconds passed before the villain suddenly got up with a huff, releasing the hero's hair and instead making their way to the one corner of the room where a chair was stood against the wall - moving it so it faced the bed. The villain stood behind it, fingers tapping idly against the back of its frame.

"Sit," they told the hero.

"But I'm already sat," the hero quipped. "Besides, the bed is far more comf--"

"Sit."

The hero rolled their eyes but finally followed the order, getting up from the bed and making there way over slowly - pausing to pet the henchman's hair softly as they passed, the other surprised at first but melting into the touch almost immediately.

"Hero," the villain warned with a growl.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," the hero said, retracting their hand and taking the last few steps.

As they came to sit down they sent the henchman a wink, the other blushing wildly and turning away though the hero barely got to enjoy it when the villain's hands grabbed them roughly and pulled them back - forcing them to sit in the seat properly. They could feel the other's breath ghosting along the back of their neck, the villain leaning down to speak lowly in their ear.

"Can I trust you not to touch yourself?"

The hero smiled. "Oh, absolutely not," they replied, speaking quietly like the villain, "but I'm sure you can afford to turn a blind eye just this once, especially since I brought you such a pretty gift."

The villain huffed, their hands coming to rest upon the hero's waist. "A gift that you took the liberty of enjoying first."

"Well, I didn't say it was exclusively your gift."

"So what, you thought you'd just treat yourself while I was out?"

"When you had that poor thing cooped up in a room doing paperwork? Yes - yes I did."

A pause.

"And what were they like?" the villain asked then.

The hero grinned as they put their hands over the villain's, fingers stroking along the back of the other's palm softly. "Very well behaved. Completely touch-starved at the time - you wouldn't believe some of the sounds they can make," the hero whispered. "They're eager to please and I found that they're especially good when it comes to using their mouth..."

Another moment of silence. The villain's grip tightened for a moment before relaxing again and the hero felt a flutter of warmth travel through them as a gentle kiss was placed against their forehead.

"Fine, I'll turn a blind eye but only this time," the villain said.

The hero's expression turned smug. "I'll take what I can get," they commented, the villain then letting them go and starting to make their way back towards the henchman when the hero quickly caught their sleeve and pulled them back, leaning up to briefly catch the villain's lips with their own. "Have fun."

The villain grinned. "Oh, I will."

Content, the hero sat themself back down upon the seat and let the other move away, waiting intently to see how the scene before them would play out.

The villain was about to put on a show, and the hero refused to miss a single second of it...

Part 4

#writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain #hero x villain #hero x villain x henchman #hero #villain #henchman

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amayaonly1 · 3 years ago

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A Lil’ Oopsie - Lesson 5 (Obey Me x Female!MC/Reader)

@strawberry-moonpies This is quite a lengthy chapter, where we get to see Sheep-chan's interaction with the third born tsundere whom we came to adore. I hope you enjoy this chapter! ♥

Other work: Diavolo's Cousin from Hell

A Lil' Oopsie mini-series:

Dawn had come, and it was a new day in Devildom, and it was another day for lessons at the RAD. The demon brothers were already up and about, moving back and forth from their room to the bathroom to get ready. Some had woken up for some finishing touches, some even prepared their own breakfast before leaving, and then there were the remaining ones who decided to leave early to drop by the cafeteria for a quick bite before classes start. A typical morning in the House of Lamentation, one would say. And that included the Avatar of Envy, even though his morning routine was different than the others.

As one with social anxiety, Leviathan had always seen no point in forcing himself to go to school and deal with crowds. What better way than to stay within the comfort of his room where he could attend classes online and then play games? With just less than an hour before the first class began, he finally woke up after snoozing his alarm clock for the umpteenth time, and then ambled his way to the bathroom. Once he'd freshened up and stopped by the kitchen to grab a light meal, he sat on his gaming chair and logged in to his school portal. It seemed that he was still early. Might as well play with his Nintendo Switch while waiting for the online class to be on standby.

You see, the Avatar of Envy already had a plan on what he was going to do once the morning classes were over. Firstly, he'd have a lunch delivery and, while waiting for the 1pm class to begin, tune in to watch the newest episode of his favourite anime. Secondly, once he was free for the rest of the day, he would move onto his PlayStation 4 and-

SLAM!!!

"Oi, Levi." Satan's voice interrupted his train of thoughts.

"What is it?" The said demon exasperatedly responded, but still kept his focus on the handheld gaming console. "I'm a little busy here. Actually, you're not supposed to barge into my room without at least knocking."

"I would've done that if you hadn't forgotten something, or rather, someone important here."

Someone? What did his brother mean? Was he missing some-

Leviathan abruptly stopped pressing the buttons on the Nintendo Switch. His orange-purplish gradient eyes widened when realisation struck him. He turned his head. There stood Satan dressed in his RAD uniform, holding a cooing toddler who was now adorning a black cat onesie with ears on the hoodie and a tail at the bottom.

"H-Huh?" was what he managed to utter.

Satan took note of his expression and sighed. "Unbelievable. Don't tell me that you've forgotten that you're supposed to look after MC for the whole day while the rest of us are away."

No no no! This can't be happening! His Henry had turned into a kid, and Leviathan didn't have any experience with children. How was he going to even take care of her? What if she suddenly cries after realising that she's in the same room as a gross hikikomori who's also an otaku?

He wasn't able to get his answer when Satan persisted, "I don't know what you've planned, but remember that we came to an agreement last night that we'd take turns looking after her while we wait for Solomon to create the antidote."

"But what if she makes a fuss?" piqued Leviathan anxiously.

The blond demon walked over to where his PlayStation 4 was situated and gently placed the toddler on the dark-coloured rug in front of it. "MC isn't so bad," he assured, smiling as he watched her look around the dimly lit room with curiosity. "She was a little fussy last night when it was time for bed, but after reading a storybook or two, she passed out. She slept the whole night, and didn't even cry when I woke her up this morning and gave her a quick bath. She's a pretty easy child to look after, at least for my experience."

"But-!"

"I know all this came as a sudden, but we have no choice. The least we can do is make sure MC is comfortable while still as a toddler. Anyway, I'm going to be late if I don't get going. See you later."

"No, wa-" Leviathan wasn't able to finish his sentence, for the blond demon had shot up and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

It was silent at first, with the exception of the humming CPU and the babbling child. The indigo-haired demon heaved a sigh. He spun his chair around and glanced at the monitor over his shoulder.

8:49 AM

There's not much time, he thought.

Leviathan got up from his gaming chair and slowly approached MC, crouching down in front of her. Upon noticing his presence, she peered up at him and tilted her head. But the soft "eh?" wasn't enough to snap him out of his dilemma.

What was he going to do? He's never been fond of kids, nor did he have any experience taking care of them. If accidentally made MC cry and his brothers got hold of that, they're never going to forgive him for being the worst caretaker in the entire Devildom! Argh! What if she hates him after she'd transformed to her normal self and remember the lousy job he did while looking after her? And then she'll ignore him, and then he'll lose his Henry, and-

"Levi?"

"Yes!" responded the startled demon, who stood up straight as if he was about to salute.

Instead, he was greeted by the sight of MC standing before him with a DVD in her hand. "Can watch?" was her question. He was confused, at first, until he looked down at the DVD cover.

The Magical Ruri Hana: Demon Girl

All of a sudden, Leviathan's frown flipped, and his eyes gleamed with excitement. MC had been rather neutral towards Ruri-chan, although it's not to say that she found his obsession with the fictional character bizarre. But now, her toddler self was interested in her! Whether it was the flowery pink cover design or Ruri-chan's character design that caught her attention, he could care less. If she was interested, then he'd gladly introduce her to Ruri-chan.

"Of course!" he chirped.

Grabbing the CD, he scooted towards the TV cabinet and switched on the television and DVD player. He inserted the CD, waited for it to load, and when the main menu popped up, he pressed play and the series began. Leviathan rushed to sit beside MC, eagerly waiting for the all-too-familiar introduction that would then be followed by his favourite opening scene.

"Get ready for the ones of the best animes to ever exist in the three realms," he chirped. "We'll get to know Ruri-chan, a demon who gives up her true form to learn more about humans in the human world. She has an imagawayai companion named Azuki-tan. You're going to love them, MC!" The said toddler must've felt his excitement, for it seemed that it was starting to rub off on her as she turned to the screen with excitement, clapping when the protagonist made her appearance.

And so, the Avatar of Envy and his Henry spent the entire morning with a "The Magical Ruri Hana: Demon Girl" marathon; even though the former forgot that he was supposed to be attending classes today. But who cares about classes when you can cosplay as Ruri-chan with her pancake sidekick?

#obey me #obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me fanfiction

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buryyourfavouritestrope · 3 years ago

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Goodnight - Soryu Oh

Author Note: So I played some Otome games randomly and one of them was Kissed By The Baddest Bidder. Interesting plots. Soryu was one of my favourites, so was Shuichi. Anyway, enjoy this maybe. A little suggestive at points. Also just straight uploaded not checked yet.

On any other day Soryu would’ve avoided the establishment; he despised the heavy stench of alcohol blended unevenly with a few of Mamaru’s cigarettes. He’d suffer once he returned to the sanctity of his room for the evening, he could already feel the scent clinging to the insides of his nose. Soryu would hold this against his friends for a while; even if neither of them had forced him to come. His body had moved of its own accord the second the young maid had shone a bright smile and asked if he was joining them.

The Ice Dragon had situated himself on the opposite side of the table from her, if it had been a possibility, he would have sat on a bar stool beside the bar. Instead, he suffered sat besides, what could only be called, the useless Detective. Perhaps Soryu had been to harsh in that thought, Kishi may be lazy but he’d helped Inui out of a spot of bother a few times. The Dragon couldn’t help the sparks of Envy that had lodged in his chest once again, albeit for a different reason, as he pondered on Kishi. No-one could blame Soryu, Mamoru held the second thing that Soryu could never have.

After a while the Auction Managers had dispersed, each going their separate ways as they bid farewell for the night. A few a little more than tipsy as they staggered by the many bar patrons. Baba had been the first to leave; a charismatic grin on his face as he promised to do this again before following a rather scantily clad woman out of the bar. Ota and Mamoru had been the next to go, a exasperated Detective wrapping an arm under Ota to support his drunken frame. With those three gone it had left Soryu with a nonchalant Eisuke and a close to tipsy maid. He should have left after Baba; it had been his intention to go but the young maid had started to speak to him and so effortlessly he had found himself lost as they conversed. They hadn’t even noticed when Eisuke had left; and that thought had made the blood in Soryu’s body run cold.

“What about those two?” Came a partially slurred voice, the syllables gently tore the man from his thoughts. His ever-observant gaze falling briefly to the woman. She’d stayed; the second they’d both realised Ichinomiya abandoned them she had chosen to stay and so had he. Soryu convinced himself that his presence was for Eisuke. He was staying to make sure she didn’t embarrass the man or cause any more trouble than she had since the Auction. It hadn’t been because Soryu had noticed the several less than sober men whose eyes lingered on her for a little too long when she went to order herself another drink, nor had it been because her presence beside him soothed his stress-riddled body.

Soryu lifted his gaze from his companion to gaze at the pair situated in a booth by the entrance. A rather thin salaryman with comedically thick rimmed glasses and a sort of awkwardness in his actions that rivalled a nerdy schoolboy sat across from another scantily clad woman. Her fingers danced around the rim of her glass as she watched the man with vague interest. Every so often she would lean further forward allowing the salaryman a clearer view of her cleavage.

“He’s a nerd and she’s an escort” Oh commented idly, he reached for his seventh whisky of the evening, relishing briefly as the liquid seeped down his throat. Normally he would stop at four and switch to a light beer but then again, he would never have been out drinking for this long unless he was making a deal. As he placed the, now, empty glass back on the table he reminded himself that he should’ve left before Eisuke.

“Soryu that’s not how you play the game” She chuckled a little as she finished the rest of her own drink. Her fingers danced around the rim of her own glass as she hugged it against her chest. At some point she had slithered into the seat beside him, and he could smell the lavender that swam through the air around her, offsetting any other smell from the establishment.

He’d frozen. His mind replaying the same word in her voice as though trying to retain how the syllables had rolled from her tongue in that innocent tipsy tone of hers. She’d never called him by his name before. It had always been ‘Mr. Oh’ or ‘Sir’. Never Soryu as much as he had craved it. He’d have told her if it hadn’t been for his pride. If he hadn’t wanted to save himself from being teased by Baba or Ota.

“You’re supposed to say something like. She’s asking him to buy her cat.” She whistled, another sip of her drink and Soryu caught the gaze of the bartender. In a brief flick of his wrist, the Bartender nodded. “But he’s allergic to cats, so she’s offering herself with the cat but he’s just waiting for the other members of his DnD club.” Soryu couldn’t help the soft chuckle that tore through his throat. “Do that again, I like that sound.”

Her drunken words meant nothing currently, yet it didn’t stop the warmth from dusting Soryu’s cheeks. The Ice Dragon caught the way she began to rock sideways, and he was certain that the room was spinning around her; so as the bartender set down a tray of coffee, Soryu placed his arm on the back of their seat, it was a precaution to keep her on the cushioned bench. He inched closer to her – just to make sure she had something to keep her propped up. Not because he wished she would fall towards him. Or so in that moment he could hold her.

“Ok, how about he’s a police officer in disguise, and she’s a widower. They matched on a dating app whilst he was trying to get closer to a drug ring. She guessed the code correctly and he wants to arrest her, and she just wants to get her rocks off. Two crossed wires.” Soryu smirked. Stifling her laughter, she placed hand in front of her mouth. She shifted in her seat, her leg brushing against his, an innocent action that had Soryu’s muscle tensing and his mind malfunctioning. The ever-composed Ice Dragon felt pathetic – she could reduce him to dust with just a smile and they hadn’t even known each other that long, not before the man had fallen for her soothing presence.

“Better…who next….?” She sighed, her head roaming the other patrons. Soryu lifted his coffee to his lips, the liquid lingering on his tastes buds as he revelled in the bitter drink. The second it hit the back of his throat he felt the caffeine kick in, doing its best to rid him of the alcohol coursing through his system. “Him” she practically beamed pointing to the bar.

For a second, he wondered if she meant the bartender, who stood cleaning an already immaculate wine glass, but then his gaze just skimmed a man hunched over his drink. He was younger than the other patrons, his dishevelled brown hair damp from what Soryu assumed was the rain outside. A hefty sigh masked the mumbles that came from the bartender, and for a second Soryu recalled a face in his mind’s eye. Especially when he caught sight of the glasses that sat beside the man’s drink, he paired them with the off brown three piece that adorned the man’s body and it suddenly occurred to him, just who he was looking at.

“That’s Shuichi’s and Eisuke’s love child. See the bartender doesn’t like him, clearly, he has the aura to get on everyone’s nerves just from his presence alone, probably from Eisuke, but arguable from Shuichi too. Then there’s the hair, the poor eyesight, and that sigh.” Soryu announced.

The room fell silent before hysterical laughter rang out. Soryu almost jumped at the sound as it resonated in his ears. She wrapped her arms around her body as she struggled to compose herself or even breathe. A grin spread through Soryu’s features, as they ignored the quizzical looks from the other customers. Even from the love child whose scowl imitated Shuichi so well that the woman’s laughter doubled.

“I bet…” She paused, inhaling deeply, “I bet he’s sad because his dads are fighting so he left after coming all the way to Japan to see them. Maybe he went to Dubai first to look for Shuichi but when he found out that he came to Japan he followed. Poor guy. Don’t worry sir, your dads will stop fighting soon” She shouted the last of her sentence. Soryu hushed her, sending the man an apologetic smile.

“Here. Have some coffee” He uttered. The mug remained untouched, her body lifting from their shared seat. She stumbled towards the bar, hands gripping the wooden surface tight as she ordered another drink. The bartender, whose eyes flew between her and Soryu, nodded before handing her a glass of what Soryu knew would be water. The mafia boss had slipped some money to the bartender when he had delivered his coffee, a silent look passed between the two men in a wordless contract to cut her off.

Soryu had been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the pair of legs now stood in front of his coffee. He lifted his gaze carefully, cautious not to linger on any places he shouldn’t. She grinned down at him, rocking on her feet to keep herself steady.

“Look Sor, I’m taller than you now” She giggled. The nickname held an effect on him that he was too ashamed to admit to. The Mafia boss stood his hand hovering in the air before he turned around.

“Get on, it’s time we left” He announced; he bent slightly at the knees whilst he waited. She took a moment to understand what he meant, her body all but jumping onto his back. She hung her arms around his neck as her legs wrapped around his waist. Neither of them missed the way her body shivered the second he placed his hands under her thighs, or the way his body seemed to relax further.

To any outside observers they looked like a couple, a boyfriend who had come to collect his drunk girlfriend carrying her back to their room. Especially with the way she grinned, every so often blowing on the shell of his ear. The action would have Soryu jolting slightly, his fingers squeezing her thighs in a false warning. The Ice Dragon Leader wore a softened expression, a small smile gracing his usually frowning features.

“We should tell Mr Ichinomiya and Mr Hishikura to kiss and make up so their son can have his family back. He looked so sad; I wonder what Mr Ichinomiya did.” She mumbled, her voice seemed quieter now and she slurred her words a little less. A soft rumble in Soryu’s chest alerted them both to just how entertaining the idea of waking Eisuke up to tell him his fake son was waiting for him was.

“Maybe not tonight. I don’t think Eisuke will be too impressed” Soryu laughed. The woman fell silent even as she continued to blow on Soryu’s ear or tap her fingers against Soryu’s chest. What he had failed to notice in her silence was her reaction to his laugh. He’d only chuckled earlier, and yet the soft exhale that could barely be called laughter had the maid craving for more. “Ok, I need to put you down now” He added as they stepped inside the Penthouse elevator.

She didn’t move to release him, in fact she tightened her hold on the man, her legs wrapped tighter around his waist as she buried her head into the crook of his neck. He could feel the pout she wore, especially as her lips skimmed the skin on his neck. He moved his head away from her, a small shudder running through his body as he gazed at her through his peripheral.

“The elevator card is in my pocket; I can’t reach with you on my back.” He informed her; she continued to pout, shaking her head a little. A mischievous spark in her eyes startled Soryu as he felt her press further against his back, her fingers running down her chest towards his jacket pocket. His eyes closed struggling to maintain his composure until he felt the soft prick on his check. He peeked through a crack in his eyelid to see the familiar white key card.

“Here you go” She beamed, “Now onwards Sor.”

Mentally he was scolding himself, he should’ve told her – forced her to get off him. Anyone else and he would’ve. He’d done it many times in the past, each with a different drunk woman who would remember little of Soryu’s kindness and forever wind up hating him for his harshness the next morning. He should’ve left when Baba left.

He stood there, in the middle of the penthouse longue, unsure of where to put her. He couldn’t walk up the stairs and dump her on Eisuke. Not with his ill-temper when he gets disturbed. Nor could he leave her on the couch, not with the wandering hands of both Baba and Ota. He couldn’t think, not with her head resting in the crook of his neck, her breath gliding across his skin eliciting goosebumps in its wake. He shook his head as he headed towards his own suite. She’d stay in the spare bed tonight, if Eisuke hadn’t removed it already. Soryu would leave her there and make his way to his condo for the rest of the night. By the time he reached it, he’d have just enough time to shower and go to the Ice Dragon’s headquarter.

This wasn’t her first time in his suite, and much to his dismay he hoped it wouldn’t be the last. She’d cleaned the room many times before, but this was the first time that he willingly brought her to the room. The first time he had placed her on the bed. He was a statue by the bed; watching as she hid her face with her hands. Her clothing hung dishevelled on her body, her skirt rising just high enough to have Soryu’s mind wondering. He’d imagined her many times in his bed, and he wished he could say those thoughts had remained in the dead of night at his condo, but often he found himself fantasizing during his meetings with Eisuke. The Ice Dragon Leader would catch her cleaning in her maid uniform – hardly the most scandalous outfit but enough to have his blood racing and his eyes glossing over.

“Do you need anything? Water?” He frowned at himself. He knew the answer already and with that knowledge he’d bring her some water before he left. In the morning he’d send Inui over with some pain medication and perhaps some breakfast to keep her hangover at bay. With that settled he turned to leave. Just as quickly as he had moved, he felt a significantly smaller hand pull at his. His eyes drifting to the fingers that wrapped around his wrist as he let himself be pulled down.

“Don’t go” She paused; her words sounding panicked. “Not just yet” She continued. The simple sentence attacked what little self-control Soryu had left. It’s when his head hits the pillow that the alarm bells ring. A harsh reminder of just how bad things could turn out. At that point he should’ve stopped, told her she was drunk and left immediately. He should have. Yet he remained there, his body turning to lay on his side. Neither spoke, for a while, at least not with words. Soryu’s usually calm eyes roamed every corner of her face, a silent plea. He drank her in as though this would be the last time, he’d see her. Which should Eisuke find them was a very real possibility.

“Hold on” She whispers, breath warm against his face. She reaches out to him. Two fingers gently running over the skin of his forehead as they push back a stray hair. “There much better” She adds. Her hand remained there, it pulls him closer to her and he doesn’t stop the way his body shuffles closer on the bed. He can feel her rubbing her fingers against the skin of his temple. Soryu can feel her breath on his lips, and that on its own is enough to send his heart racing, he can smell the alcohol and the heavenly scent of Lavender. A scent he would forever associate with her, with this. It’s a smell subtle enough not to irritate him. Her fingers run over his hair, and he can’t help the shiver that escapes him. Nor can he stop his eyes from closing as he revels in the sensation. She eats at his control, and he can feel it slipping. He should be scared by just how easily she made him weak, but he’s not.

“I should go,” He mutters, he doesn’t mean these words anymore, “and you should get some rest before we do anything we’ll regret”. He doesn’t move, any conviction in his body went the second her fingers fell from his hair to the nape of his neck. She doesn’t force him to move, its written in her eyes how she feels, especially when he places his hand on her thigh. His fingers rubbing slow circles into her skin.

It’s innocent. The soft caress of her lips on his. She made the first move, he’s painfully aware of that fact but he kisses back regardless. His mind savouring the way her lips move against his, its everything he imagined it to be. The innocence depleting quickly as his mind races with the countless scenarios he imagined in his early morning showers. Her lips tempt him just as much as he tempts her. His hands pulling her body flush against him. Both ignoring the burning sensation in their lungs demanding them to breathe. His hand resting on her thigh rises higher; high enough to feel the material of her underwear.

Her own hands move to his shoulders desperate to rid him of his jacket. It doesn’t take long for the material to fall to the ground in a crumpled heap. His lips travel from hers to skin of her jaw, he leaves wet kisses as he turns his attention to her neck. In turn she moves her attention to the buttons of his shirt. He can feel the air stabbing against his overheating chest and the sensation knocks his brain into gear. He’s quick to hear the alarm bells, quicker to release her neck from his torment.

In an instant they both stop, her hands caught in one of his hands whilst his other remains still on her thigh. He inhales attempting to muster some control as he pulls himself off the bed.

“I’m sorry, I can’t” his words end in a pitiful chuckle; aimed at himself. In a reckless moment he had ruined what little closeness they could have. She wasn’t his to hold, to kiss or to touch. She wasn’t his as much as he wished she was. “I better say goodnight before I change my mind” He utters. He casts one last look at her, face red and dishevelled.

The second the door closed behind him; he fell against it. He hadn’t bothered to grab his jacket, nor had he bothered to rebutton his dishevelled shirt. Soryu lifts his fingers to his lips, he can still feel her lips against his, still feel the lingering warmth on his body. He was changing his mind the second he fished for his phone in his pocket. If Inui didn’t answer he’d go back in, deal with the fallout tomorrow.

“Was it everything you’d hope it’d be?” Eisuke’s voice filled the silence. The tight-lipped syllables turned Soryu’s blood to ice. “I do hope it was worth touching what belongs to me. I can see you enjoyed it and this once I’m willing to overlook it for an old friend.” He added.

#soryu oh #kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb soryu #Soryu Oh x reader #Kissed by the baddest bidder imagine #I just rolled with the idea #Sue me #but don't actually #voltage otome #kbtbb

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rain-anonymous · 3 years ago

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I largely don't know how to feel about this but I love the ideas that writing this has given me

This could match with a few different things, but I specifically wrote it with the D&D campaign I'm working on in mind; if that's the case, a lot of the other people mentioned would be referred to as knights rather than sailors, even though this still takes place on the seas

The first paragraph comes from this prompt!

Hopefully I was able to convey the tone I wanted to try and hold throughout the whole piece (:

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“You know,” the figure standing at the end of the docks starts, “the sirens never liked us much. Until your royal sailors started harassing them. Shooting at them. Murdering them. And suddenly, there’s a brand new alliance between us pirates and them.” The captain’s razor smile glittered in the moonlight. “Who would’ve guessed?”

With hair whipping around her face wildly and her chin tilted slightly towards the sky, the Captain of the Midnight’s Gold radiates an aura that creeps into the navy general’s skin, sending a chill down his spine. Her eyes pierce through his own as his breath shutters in his chest.

“You fib,” he breathes out, his air of confidence turning into a poorly upheld act. “And even if it is true, what do you plan to do with them? They can do little to stop us from taking hold of your precious pirate ships and capturing the land you claim.”

A low chuckle passes the captain’s lips, and it’s all the navy general can do to stop himself from shivering in fear.

“Come now,” she says, “surely you know the sirens are more than just a pretty face and an ignorable nuisance.”

“My men aren’t stopped by a haunting voice.” If they were, he would have given up his pursuit of this captain a very long time ago. Her voice rang through his ears, rebounding in his skull and covering his body in a chill that settled in his bones. If they were stopped by a haunting voice, he would’ve let the captain be, and the pirates would have won a long time ago.

The captain tsked. “You, general, of all people, should know that sirens have a tinge of magic coursing through their blood.”

Magic. Of course the creatures would have magic on their side, though the thought never occurred to him. The few sirens he had encountered had never intended any harm initially– no, he and his men were the ones who initiated the violence, and tried to capture the sirens for the expensive scales adorning their tail. It was only then that he witnessed one of his sailors dropping into the rocky waters below, never to be seen again. And it was only then that he would have realized they wielded magic.

“Now we’re remembering, are we?” She mocks, reading the expression from his face, “It’s your dreaded magic that draws your poor, unfortunate sailors into their watery coffin. And how is a magic-less society supposed to defeat that, without aid from the very thing you condemn?”

The navy general feels the blood drain from his face; she was right, how were they supposed to defeat that? A whole army of sirens trying to lure them to their demise is far different from the odd one or two fighting against capture.

“You should think in advance before allowing your men to behave the way they are, catcalling the sirens coming to the surface and killing the ones who lie in their own realm.” The captain takes a step forward, and leans down to the navy general’s ear. “I’d be careful sailing the seas from now on, general. This is war, and this is our domain.” Her whisper echoes in his mind as she steps back with another glaring grin and slips back onto the Midnight’s Gold.

Despite his previous intentions for this encounter, he stands on the docks, trying to regain his composure as the captain begins to sail away, her piercing gaze fixated on the navy general and her arm settled around a woman’s waist.

Dread and a small hint of envy swirl in his stomach. If it’s a war she wants, it’s a war he will provide.

#llama talks #llama writes #if this is taking place in the d&d campaign i'm working on #the captain would be the pirate queen #and the navy general would be the head knight of the knights of taevara #which are the royal knights of taeva who is the goddess of war and law #the lore i have for sirens would also shift a little bit to accompany this #when i wrote this i very much imagined the war between the knights/navy of taevara and the pirate isles extending to include the sirens #who in this case would have been targeted for their magic #i imagine magic being condemned in taevara unless it came from a god #which would mean while clerics and paladins are respected the other spellcasting classes would be barred from entering taevara #which would make for some interesting characters #i kind of want to write more like this for world building of the near past that builds up some of the worldbuilding for vodari #by the way the d&d setting i'm talking about isn't created by me necessarily #i'm taking a lot of creative liberties though #but it comes from the seas of vodari #which is a really cool homebrew campaign setting #it has a lot of political affairs in it which #makes me very excited #because those can be fun when in a fictional setting

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closer-stars · 3 years ago

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Heart of Depth (4)

Member: Yeosang Genre: Action, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Fluff, a little tension. Genshin Inspired AU Word Count: ~5k Requested: Sort of yeah Content: Yeosang x MC development. More world building. Food stuff. some history, some typical genshin shenanigans. Mild Violence. Mentions of death Note: Surprise lol. I’ve been working on this fic at the same time as gut feeling hence the speedy posting, part 5 to be posted soon. Network: @ateezlovenet Tag list: @barsformars @miniyeo @jeongyunhoed @yeekies @yeotlny @frankenstein852 @shinyddeonghwa @prodbyteez @yeochikin @yeocult @harubirus

Part 3

Yeosang’s friend, Hongjoong, arrives at your shop today. He waits for you and Wooyoung patiently by the door. Well, you assume it’s Hongjoong based on his mannerisms. He didn’t seem like the men Wooyoung had to fight the night before. The two of you approach your shop carefully: the grip you have on your keys were tight, Wooyoung’s stance was low enough to not get weird glances but low enough to give him enough force to jump should it not be him.

The male notices the two of you and greets you politely. “Hello, I’m Kim Hongjoong, Kang told me about your need for assistance.” The introduction puts your guards down. You remember Yeosang’s description of the male, around Wooyoung’s height, eyes that seem inquisitive, with wavy hair that seem to frame his face. If none of these events had happened, you would’ve assumed he was a model with how he carried himself.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You introduce yourself and Wooyoung, as you open the shop for the day. Not even a few minutes after, people start pouring into your shop-- some of them with obvious relief on their features. They speak of their worries of the shop having closed down or you and Wooyoung not doing alright. All of which are shut down with reassurances. As the three of you go about with the orders and other needed rituals, you teach Hongjoong the ins and outs of your shop, what to press to make certain types of coffee, how to make foamed milk and so on. “Oh and if you want to create any dishes, feel free to do so. Some of Wooyoung’s creations are on the menu as well.”

Throughout the day, the three of you try to get to know each other more, even asking Hongjoong for tidbits about who Yeosang and San really are and who he really is. He answers simply about himself, a Dendro holder, whose blood is similar to that of San’s. “So how old are you?” Wooyoung asks.

“Younger than San, older than you.” It was a simple answer but enough to give the two of you an idea of how long he has walked the earth. It also explains his oddly shaped pupils but perhaps a detailed rundown of his lineage is for another day.

Wooyoung returns to where the two of you are, just in time to get the gist of the conversation as you guide Hongjoong through making an iced macchiato. “Yeah and most of the earnings made from those dishes go to you.” He eggs the other male on with a cheeky grin on his face. Hongjoong, catching onto his antics, releases a light laugh after having made enough milk foam for the order.

“I’ll consider that.” You let Hongjoong pour the order into a plastic cup for the customer. You don’t miss the lingering gazes from the women as well. Maybe having an attractive barista could help with the sales.

--------

You were back running business as usual. Only since that incident, you had to start closing a little earlier than usual. You had to write on your small board that you’ll only be able to be open until 5PM every day for the next few weeks due to personal reasons. Wooyoung spends the rest of the day in the studio, though he gets creative with the journey there-- using various train lines, or even walking through different streets just to make sure he doesn’t become predictable from the Abyss. He was more worried for you though. Hongjoong as well, walks with you usually: either walking the two of you to your apartment or elsewhere, just for safety. It was part of the agreement after all.

For today the shop has to close early, at least he can be reassured that you’ll be safe with Yeosang for tonight. “Damn, you really dressed up for tonight huh?” Wooyoung muses as he leans against the counter. Hongjoong lingers around Wooyoung’s side. For the entire day, Wooyoung gave the older male a rundown of your relationship with Yeosang-- at least the parts you forgot to add, which generally was the romantic aspect.

To be fair, you did put a little more effort today hoping that Wooyoung wouldn’t notice unless you wanted to be teased. Your blouse, though it can be easily wrinkled, hangs on your body well. It’s also one of your favorites simply for how it feels cool to the touch. You were wearing slacks as well, not your usuals for comfort and practicality but today, knowing Yeosang’s preferences when it comes to dates, it was better to just dress up. “Shush.” You chide him, wrinkling your nose at his teasings. “I know he’s seen me in just shorts or joggers when I’m working but considering it’s a date…” Until now, whenever you say that you’re going on a date with him, your heart beats a little faster. “I figured I might as well... “

The mischievous glint in Wooyoung’s eyes softens just a bit as he snickers at how flustered you look. “Don’t worry about it too much, the two of you have really good dynamics. Guess you could say there’s a spark” He rests against his elbows this time. The pun doesn’t go unnoticed by Hongjoong. “Have you even seen how he looks at you? That guy’s really smitten.” There was also a hint of curiosity behind the soft gaze Yeosang carries for you. He wonders what it is, but if there’s anything being an electro user tells him, it’s patience. “Besides, your shop has garnered a bunch of loyal customers now. They don’t mind the early close especially for personal reasons. At least have fun tonight.”

You look at the clock. It won’t be long until he picks you up from the shop then. “You already know how to lock up this place right?” It won’t be long either until Wooyoung has to head to the studio.

“Of course. The keys are with me and the extra set of keys are at home.” He rolls his eyes in jest at your concern. “Do you have Regalia with you?” He returns.

Regalia’s the name of the bracelet you’ve been wearing since day one of living with Wooyoung’s family. One of the last few things you’ve kept from your family that he’s aware of. He doesn’t usually mind you not wearing it during work but with the recent events, you can only assume this is for your peace of mind. “Yup.” You raise your wrist to his view, and he sees the cool toned beads adorn and accentuate the silver charm that rests just above where your pulse is.

Your vision was peaking under your top, just by your waist, not wanting to bring too much attention to your capabilities but still wanting to stay on the safe side. Underneath the calm facade, lies the same person who’s still wary of everything since then. A figure catches his eye by the door. It’s Yeosang, this time wearing a cream blazer under a simple printed white shirt and dark gray pants and ankle boots. He always manages to make you feel a tad bit underdressed with his fashion sense. You envy Wooyoung’s nonchalance to the fashion differences, then again, Wooyoung’s been confident in his own style. That’s what got him to where he is now.

Just as you were about to ask Wooyoung a question, he beats you to it. “Yes, you look fine. Now go and have your date.” He shooes you off with a wave of his hand. You shoot him a look of mild annoyance for his ability to see through your facade. So with that done, you grab your things on top of the counter and wave him goodbye.

“Call me when something comes up okay?”

He says nothing but shoots you an okay sign, making sure you focus on the man who’s been waiting for you like a lovesick puppy by the door.

Just as you step out of the shop, you’re greeted by a warm smile from him. It’s interesting how that smile made him look younger when he’s already thousands of years older than you. It just comes with the whole Archon responsibility, you suppose. As you approach him, he hands you a bouquet of various flowers-- peeking above the flowers, you see his cheeks bloom into an endearing pink.

“Yeosang what’s this for?” You ask, the wrapped flowers in your hands has you dumbfounded. You weren’t sure if it was a double peonies but you’ve definitely seen this before somehow. You knew that this was a rarity but how he managed to acquire them at the height of their beauty at this time of the year was a feat for you. “What is this?” A white flower, not yet in full bloom, is surrounded by simple greens and hyacinths. You gaze at them for a moment, before returning your gaze to the man in front of you.

The tips of his ears shine bright pink, a stark contrast to his black-blue hair. “I thought you might appreciate another type of flower to be in your shop.” You can’t turn down this gift. Double peonies have been something you would usually see online. To know that these are real ones and they’re in your hands, it was truly an experience. “Neve Jewel.” He answers your question softly

You look at him for a moment, shocked at how he got this flower for you. “How often should I water them?” You ask as you try to look for a vase or a spare pot that you would plant them in for the time being in your shop. You’d love to bring home a sapling of this down the line.

“Every three days.” He says after clearing his throat. If he didn’t, he would’ve stuttered through the tip. The look of pure glee in your eyes made him think that getting you the flowers was a good decision, at least it was good enough to make his chest feel warm. As you look through the pots in your shop, you realize there’s no space for them: looks like you’ll have to carry them for the entirety of the date.

He offers you the crook of his arm, for you to hold onto for the rest of the date. “So what’s the plan for tonight?” You ask as you gently hold onto his arm as he offered. The night was still young and there was so much they could do and for all you know he might pull more surprises.

“Well, for starters, you have the freedom to choose what we eat tonight. I figure it’s only fair to let you choose this time as it was my choice last time.” That’s right, you remember the last restaurant being expensive and him being able to pay with ease. A small part of you wonders if he could cover your further studies or help with the studio Wooyoung also works in.

The power to choose makes you hum in thought. Truthfully the decisions were countless. “How about pizza and pasta? I know a place you might like.” A short pause. “Well, we can look at the menu and see if you like it, if not we go elsewhere.” You offer.

You hate to admit that ever since knowing Yeosang’s the Archon, you started seeing him in a slightly different light. Maybe it’s your insecurities? Wondering who else did he love before you. Was it your jealousy? Wanting to know what he knows about this world and perhaps beyond-- along with his financial security. It can’t be helped, there have been times where you gave up something you eyed for more important things. Living on your own isn’t easy but at least you work at your own pace.

“Something on your mind?” Yeosang asks softly. He doesn’t want anyone listening in on them as he starts noticing fleeting glances at either you or him. It didn’t take much for him to know that your thoughts were running again. Your hand felt loose in his arm, and your footsteps felt like they were floating. It was funny to him how you reminded him of them yet still be your own person.

“Ah?” You hummed, blinking a few times to get back to reality. “Nothing too pressing, just curiosity over how life has been for you since Day 1.” You admit. You know of their existence: of Archons that bestow these visions, of beings that are half human, half something, or even not entirely human that walk with you. To be in their presence though, is another topic entirely. “Along with the chances of meeting the likes of your kind.”

He flashes a small smile at your honesty. “I see. All of which are understandable thoughts. I suppose I can tell you a few stories over dinner.” He promises. There’s something comforting in how he carries no hint of resentment, but it leads to more curiosity of what he has buried in all these years. “If time still permits today, I’ll show you some places that hold significance to me that people nowadays do not know of.”

“You say a lot of promises, Yeosang.” You note teasingly. As you do so, you gesture to the restaurant that you had set your eyes (and stomach) on. “Check out their menu first?”

He looks at the restaurant and chuckles. “My dear, San always pesters me about this place. I don’t eat here as often as he does but trust me, I have no issues with tonight’s choice.” He would come here often for San’s favorite especially after a long night of dealing with awry beings that try to wreck havoc. It’s enough to get him through a few hours until he crashes.

His words reassure you and thus, the two of you enter the premises, finding comfort in a booth, away from any eyes that could wander. After the orders have been made, you were left alone with him once more. From your place, you could watch people walk past the restaurant on one side, while the cars zoom past on the other. Yeosang lets you look around for a moment before he starts telling you some of his stories. “So which one would you like to know about?”

He answers your questions to the best of his ability. Yes, even if people try to recreate the food from the past, it’s still not the same, not even with the same ingredients, things just naturally changes over time and he has come to accept that. His current favorite is fried chicken though, even better if it’s the half-half type. He tells you about a plot of raised land on the other side of the river. You weren’t aware of this story: how that was initially something like a mountain only for him to flatten it with the force of water after an immortal being thought they were greater than the heavens that made them. He admits that the immortal was a dear friend of his who had changed as time passed them by. A god of earthquakes, he tells you. “So with that in mind, it’s impossible to fully wipe out any archon or immortal being.” Your inquisitive and sharp mind warms his heart. Humanity’s curiosity is their greatest downfall. Yet, this is what pushes beings like him to protect you and your kind. It’s what has kept your species going.

“Yes and no. This dear friend of mine, he can’t..” he trails off as he tries to find the right word, tilting his head in thought. “His material body cannot come back but his essence lives on. It explains the tremors we feel occasionally.” Some gods are forgotten as well, buried deep in the oceans he rules in where only the darkest parts of humanity’s consciousness can only remember. Yet from time to time, occurrences happen that tell him that there are people that still remember. Fortunately, before the discussion gets any depressing, the food arrives and he takes this chance to know more about you and anything you’re curious about with these flowers that rest on your lap.

He asks you about the latest social networking apps, he has the basics of where most people are but the other apps that entertain certain niches intrigue him. Though you didn’t have all the answers, he was sure he’d leave this restaurant knowing more than before. He finds out that your passion for baking and making different types of coffee came after you saw Wooyoung struggle juggling his dance team and studies. The daily expenses of buying coffee eventually build up over time so you take matters into your own hands. Now, you’ve got a shop up and running and the rest is pretty much history. He respects you for that. The Archon also realizes that perhaps San was right with this restaurant. Another restaurant to add to his options in the days to come.

The rest of the dinner goes well, lasting for two hours before the two of you decide to leave and walk around somewhere quiet. Somewhere that the two of you could get away from the constant bustle of modern life.

The walk to the quieter side of the city was a fruitful one. The conversation between the two of you never stops as each of you try to understand each other-- especially with you trying to understand his roots along with his riches. “So, you being.. An archon.. Is that how you were able to get that apartment?” You understand that he’s not quite immortal, having the ability to die as well but he does have the ability to live longer than most. You learned that gods can die, but deaths caused by humans have resulted in violent natural happenings.

“Yes and no.” He answers with a slight tilt of his lips. “Some of the objects from the historical collection are mine but I had to pull some legal strings to make the public think it’s from someone else, and for the stockholders to continue funding the museum. Some of them have been bought and sold through me to older gods and Archons who have passed on, some archaic family clans as well and so on.” He hints towards other groups with money that have helped fund his museum and keep them safe, though through less than morally ethical means. Simply put, the museum has helped him amass a big fortune with one part going to his anonymous safety for reasons and the other parts going to other necessities of the community around him.

Something stirs in you to explain something to him. “I suppose I owe you a story as well.” You admit softly. You start to tell him about your family life, how you grew up in a family that was passionate about their jobs: your father, a historian while your mother was a fairly known ceramist who also had a passion for what your father pursued. It’s through the attempts of recreating the pottery of the past that made their names fairly well known in those days-- also making you have a keen interest and skill in the history and the arts. Your father came across certain writings, unfamiliar to the academe but familiar to those who were interested in the taboo. He and your mother got too close, from what you understood. The pursuit of making connections and knowledge cost them their life. They made sure you were safe from everything, keeping you hidden from the perpetrators.

Wooyoung’s parents were close to yours, it took forever in a child's mind before they found you, hiding in a closet with the Regalia in your small hands. Once they found you, they made sure you didn’t see the aftermath. Their urns rest in a quiet columbarium out of town. Since then, you grew up with Wooyoung’s family. It’s not the same as having your actual parents grow with you but they did their best to step into their roles for you and for Wooyoung. “It’s been years, and I’ve learned to cope with the absence so please, don’t worry about me.” You reassure him. You’ve been so accustomed, so annoyed with the looks of pity given to you by others who know this story-- which are usually by word of mouth.

He lets his eyes wander around the scenery in front of him. The way the lights bounce against the water, the quiet hum of people milling about by the water. His eyes catch sight of a small family letting their kids play about by the water. The way you talk about your family makes him wonder how you were like when you were younger. The you he knows now is different from the you Wooyoung has known since he was a child. You don’t step into the same river but water always passes where it came from. Simply put, you are still you. Heavens be damned, because he’s enamored by you.

As you tell your stories, your eyes catch a glimpse of the same family. There’s something in your chest that twists that you cast your eyes downward. The flowers were still in your arms, you didn’t want to leave it in the stale air of the car.

He sees you look down at the flowers, your fingers fiddling with the wrapping and some of the petals. “Feel free to ask questions about them, my dear.”

Giving you that green light to ask immediately had you talking. “Okay, first question, How? I thought this didn’t exist anymore?” You remember the first dinner you had with him, how he bought a painting of the said flower and told you how rare it was. So how did he manage to get an actual one?

He finds a bench, away from people that were there for perhaps the same reasons as the two of you. He pats the spot next to him for you to sit down as well to which you oblige. Once you do so, he looks up at the sky, seeing the faint shimmers of the stars above. The waters will continue to move to a near unrecognizable state yet the stars no matter how much they move, they still look the same. The man next to you tries to figure out his words, but eventually he just decides to say it plainly. “I had the same thoughts as you, about its existence. San was the one who notified me of its reemergence. He found it growing in the museum’s garden, in full bloom every night.”

You stare at the lone blooming flower in your hands, wondering if there’s more in the garden, but one question suddenly nags at you. “Why did you give it to me when you’re heavily attached to this flower?” You were flattered, you can’t deny that-- a rare flower from someone who has been fluttering your heart? That was a unique way to be courted Yet, the lapse in thought bothers you, a rare flower that he obviously holds dear to him, given to you? What made him think of this?

“They were someone dear to me as well.” He starts. His voice takes on a more sober tone, making sure you were comfortable leaning on his shoulder. “A dear immortal as well, just like San and I.” It takes a few moments of silence for you to understand the gravity of their relationship. “They were someone well loved by the people, taught them how to handle resources on an economic point of view with other regions, taught them handiwork beyond that of warfare, a lot of things that were out of my field to put it simply..” He has already accepted and forgiven himself of his shortcomings to become someone like them at that time. “Their favorite flower is this, my love.” He says, his fingers fiddle with the edge of its wrapper. “Everyone associated it with them.” Despite the harsh cold that ice gives, it was also a time for trust. When it was too cold, they’d make shelter out of ice and various twigs and fur. If it was too hot, they provided them with cool winds. It’s why the Neve Jewel glows as such, depending on the season.

“Unfortunately, I couldn’t protect them at their time of death.” His eyes stay still at the river that quietly flows past them. “Their last wish to me was to make sure the people survive the journey. Weird isn’t it? The god of water protecting the followers of Ice.” He rests his temple against yours. “Eventually after their passing, Neve Jewels ceased to exist. Until you came along.”

“Yeosang?”

“Mm?”

“What if I’m not them?”

“Yeosang, you know you need to be prepared to accept the fact they might not be your previous lover.”

It’s a question he’s considered since he met you. He admits, it wasn’t easy to consider accepting that you might not return. He remembers the concern in San’s face when he was still so hopeful.

“Of course, grief never leaves you. It always stays with you, you eventually learn how to live with it.” He tips his head in thought, acknowledging the weight of the concern.

You didn’t want to cry here: not when the date was going so well. A soft chuckle leaves your lips to loosen up the tight feeling in your chest. “Mhm, I guess so.” It’s a half hearted answer you have to admit but it was better than letting the silence cue the tears.

“But if you let me, I’ll still love you the same.”

A deep breath loosens the pulsating pain in your head from the unshed tears. “I guess life does work weirdly.” You add under your breath, leaning against his shoulder as you fiddle with the wrapping of the gifted flower.

He readjusts himself to make sure you don’t get uncomfortable. There’s something in your words that tells him, it would be better to shift the topic. “I’m a little disheartened that i never got to tour you around the museum but that’s alright, one of these days, I’ll bring you around, show you my favorite works and tell you some stories behind them.”

“I’d like that, sounds like you got a lot you’d like to share too.” You muse softly, taking in the scent of nature and him.

“I catch you lingering by the entrance sometimes.” Even though he has invited you and Wooyoung to stay in the museum’s offices with him for the sake of safety, you’d just linger by the souvenirs. You remember Wooyoung proposing the idea of having a small shop next to the souvenirs, but you shot it down. It’s not because you don’t think it’ll do well but because who else will manage the shop? Hongjoong’s a good candidate but until you’re certain he’ll stay after this mess.

With how everything is going, you wonder if he finds time to rest. “Please, you’ve got a lot on your plate. I’d rather not add to that, Yeosang.” You say with a breathy laugh of embarrassment.

“You know that I don’t mind your presence.” He’s been spending his hours with you after work for the past few months. “I wouldn’t have asked you on a date, if I did mind.” He tilts your chin gently to look at him.

His eyes, holy shit, you could drown in how they look: shades of blue with hints of green and streaks of white. The ocean resides in this man and you’d be damned if you didn’t feel yourself melt in his touch. “If it still isn’t obvious, my dear, I would like to ask you, if you are willing to be my lover?”

Something flashes at the corner of your eye, and it’s coming straight at you.

#my writings #yeosang fanfic #yeosang series #ateez series #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez au #ateez x reader #yeosang x reader #imagine this part with the previous part #too much would have happened in one chapter and i didn't want that

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Three Gates - on ao3 (for content warnings check Ao3) - on tumblr: pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

- Chapter 4 -

Meng Yao learned all the same things as Nie Mingjue, clearly being groomed to for position as Nie Mingjue’s counselor along with several of Nie Mingjue’s cousins – a great honor, he supposed.

Still, it meant that he knew what a Discussion Conference was, and knew to fear its imminent arrival.

Everything was going so well, after all.

His mother was dressing properly now, settling slowly into acting like a proper lady no matter that she was only a concubine – she’d even started to warm up to Nie Huaisang, taking the small child into her arms and singing to him the way she used to sing to Meng Yao, spoiling him a little out of what Meng Yao suspected might even be guilt at her initial plans for him, finally recognizing what Meng Yao had long ago realized: that he was good luck, not bad. A person, her son, and not merely a tool.

Best of all, Meng Yao’s little schemes on her behalf seemed to have been rather effective: Lao Nie had grown quite fond of buying Meng Shi little trinkets whenever he returned home from travel, burnished combs from Gusu, golden earrings from Lanling, even a hairpiece adorned with the Yunmeng pearls that Meng Yao knew she’d always envied. Her courtyard did not go unvisited, and the household begrudgingly unbent enough to let her give orders, the servants and retainers expressing through their service, through their willingness to overlook her origins, their appreciation of how her skillful playing and witty conversation helped ease the worst strains of Lao Nie’s vicious temper.

But now the time had come for the Discussion Conference to be held at Qinghe.

It was one thing when the conferences were held elsewhere, like the one in Yunping that had brought Nie Mingjue into Meng Yao’s life and Lao Nie into Meng Shi’s, because in those situations Meng Shi could be safely left behind at home – but not in Qinghe.

For the first time, Meng Yao almost wished that Lao Nie did not like his mother so much. After all, as a general rule, concubines were not allowed to host strange men, not even on their husband’s behalf, but when the concubine was favored, as Meng Shi was, when there was no first wife available to run the kitchen and do the welcoming, to greet the guests…

For anyone but Meng Shi to do it would be an affront to her dignity, and it would never occur to Lao Nie to be ashamed of her like that, even with her having been a prostitute before. It made perfect sense – and if she were anyone but herself, it would be fine.

A compliment, even; a willingness of Lao Nie’s part to show her off to his peers.

But Meng Yao knew, as Meng Shi knew, that there was a pit waiting for them.

After all, a Discussion Conference would bring in all the leaders of the major and minor sects – there was no way that Jin Guangshan, Sect Leader Jin, would miss it, and he had visited Meng Shi often enough through the years that there was no way he would fail to recognize her.

Asking Lao Nie to ignore that Meng Shi was a prostitute was one thing; men since time immemorial had taken on prostitutes as concubines, even those that had borne sons for other men. But to ask him to ignore that she had borne a son for one of his political rivals, for a man he despised as a cringing coward, for him to be exposed as raising one of what Meng Yao now knew the entire cultivation world snidely called the Jin bastards…

Meng Yao worried.

Nie Mingjue didn’t understand why Meng Yao was so worried, of course, but how could he? He’d never been told the details; Meng Yao would have said, trusting his discretion enough, but Meng Shi had stopped him each time.

And so Nie Mingjue thought it was only nervousness ahead of Meng Yao’s first Conference – he himself had skipped the last two Discussion Conferences, despite being old enough to usually have no choice but to come along, on the excuse that he had to care for Nie Huaisang, now a lively if lazy toddler whose favorite words were “da-ge”, “er-ge”, and “no”.

“If you don’t feel comfortable, you can go back to rest after the welcoming ceremony,” Nie Mingjue assured Meng Yao, earnest and well-meaning as always. “You don’t even have to stay for the banquet if you don’t want. I have to stay since I’m the heir, but that’s not applicable to you. If you’re worried about face, don’t be; you can take Huaisang with you – that’d be a good excuse, no one would question it.”

Meng Yao dredged up a smile for him. “I may do that,” he said, but knew that by that point it would be too late.

If they’d been better people, they would have warned Lao Nie of what to expect – but for all that he seemed to be a good man, he still had that unpredictable, explosive temper that was the Nie family inheritance as much as all the rest of it, and Meng Shi was determined that Meng Yao get as much of a cultivator’s education as possible before they were cast out – and she was sure they’d be cast out, no matter how well things had gone so far.

Meng Yao had argued with her that the few months extra he got weren’t worth the Nie sect’s loss of face, that they were better off telling him in private lest he be taken by surprise, that if he knew he could take measures to protect them both, but she had refused.

(Meng Yao loved his mother, but sometimes he thought all her cunning got in the way of being smart. He’d never thought that before Qinghe, before he realized there were more ways to do things, to move people, than by playing tricks – before he realized that the truth about the tricks you played coming out might cost you everything you had gained and more.)

The worst of it, though, was that he still had hope.

Hope for his own sake – hope for Jin Guangshan, hope that wouldn’t go away no matter how he tried to quash it.

It wasn’t like he was still the naïve child he’d been before, dreaming of a rescue – he’d gotten that! – but only the hope of every fatherless son that the man who sired him was worth something, that his blood was an inheritance he could be proud of.

A swiftly fading hope, given everything he learned from the teachers about the way the cultivation world worked. As a future counselor to a sect leader, he was privy to all the gossip, all the stories, the judgements on personality and proposed solutions on how to deal with them, none of which were very kind in their analysis of Jin Guangshan – and yet.

And yet.

Qinghe Nie had a tense relationship with Lanling Jin, owing both to personality clashes between their sect leaders and historical precedent, for all that they’d recently become closer allies given the aggression of Qishan Wen; Meng Yao knew that there would still inevitably a negative slant to what he learned, ancient prejudice influencing their judgment. And so he still hoped –

It was not a hope that lasted long.

Sect Leader Jin looked impressive from a distance, in his gold robes and golden adornments, but once he drew near the hints of dissipation on his face were obvious to a boy that had grown up in a brothel: the sort of man that liked women and drink too much, the sort that was a good mark because and not in spite of how inconstant he was.

His eyes skimmed over Meng Yao as if he were nothing, despite there being at least three or four points of similarity between them – Meng Yao resembled his mother more, but not entirely – and stopped at Meng Shi. A brief moment of surprise, and then his lips curled up into the disdainful smirk of knowing something that others did not; his eyes flickered over the crowd and this time landed on Meng Yao directly. Their eyes met for a moment that seemed to last forever, but in truth it was only a few heartbeats before Jin Guangshan’s smirk widened and he turned to whisper something into his aide’s ear, and then that man laughed…

Meng Yao felt a rush of shame fill him from head to toe.

It had been a while since he’d felt that familiar feeling, pain and hurt and rage all mixed together. It wasn’t that Qinghe was some paradise that forgot about birth, there were plenty of people who would sneer at a prostitute’s son, who would refuse to deal with him or call him names – fewer, since Lao Nie had started allowing Meng Shi to help run things in his name, letting her act almost as if she was the first wife – but he hadn’t felt shame about it in a while.

At the beginning, when it happened, Lao Nie told him that people would undoubtedly talk cruelly about him all his life but that good conduct would let him ignore them. It wasn’t especially helpful advice, though Nie Mingjue seemed to believe it (they had names for him too, for all that he was the heir, and not all of them appreciative), but perhaps it would be something he’d understand when he was older.

Certainly Nie Mingjue cited the folly of his youth for why he repaid each insult against Meng Yao with a beating, if the offenders were in his generation, or a beating for their sons if they were older. Folly of youth or not, though, Nie Mingjue’s beatings had reduced the incidents more than any of Lao Nie’s words and Meng Yao had been able to hold his head up high and proud.

Not so now.

In a single instant, he was no longer the second young master of Qinghe, Lao Nie’s ward; Jin Guangshan’s haughty look and laughter reduced him back to being nothing more than gutter trash, a prostitute’s mistake, the leavings of a sect master so high above him as to not even bother to redeem the mother of what, to him, was merely yet another son.

He hated it.

For the first time, it occurred to him that it might have been Jin Guangshan himself that sent his mother to Lao Nie’s bed all that time ago – that he’d been playing a nasty joke on a man he hated, a man he knew hated him in turn, by getting him so drunk that he wouldn’t be able to tell that the woman he had taken to bed was Jin Guangshan’s former lover, no matter how obviously she was throwing herself at him. It would make sense, Jin Guangshan and Wen Ruohan each wanting Lao Nie out of the way for their own reasons…

He hated it.

(He hated even more that even after this humiliation he still somehow wanted the man’s approval, wanted to show him that he was wrong about him, wanted to be taken home by him the way he should have been all along, to seen as critical and necessary and important – but how could that ever be, now that he’d already sworn loyalty to another sect?)

The welcome ceremony was quickly poisoned, whispers spreading and a growing frown on Lao Nie’s face – that explosive temper again – and Meng Yao didn’t need the pointed glance from one of the sect deputies to know it was time for him to leave, using Nie Huaisang (who was being perfectly well behaved) as an excuse for why he had to go.

Nie Mingjue gave him an encouraging nod, because of course he did, oblivious as he was to most social undercurrents, and Meng Yao wondered as he left how long it would take for the whispers to reach him – how long before Nie Mingjue knew that Meng Yao and his mother had lied to them, albeit by omission, that they’d deliberately hidden the truth and made them lose face in front of everyone.

He wondered how Nie Mingjue would react to that.

At least Nie Huaisang was too young for any of this, babbling away happily in something half intelligible and half fragmented pieces of thought that made no sense to anyone, clutching at Meng Yao’s hair as if he was considering trying to eat it again the way he had when he was younger.

In his anxiety, Meng Yao put him down for bed earlier than he would normally, and true to form Nie Huaisang woke up deep into the night crying for a snack. Meng Yao gave him some dried fruit from the stash he always kept in his pocket and promised to get him something more substantive from the kitchens, and Nie Huaisang snuggled contentedly back into bed (Meng Yao’s bed, which was probably his actual goal the entire time, the devious brat).

Even though Nie Huaisang would probably be fast asleep by the time he returned, Meng Yao still turned his feet towards the kitchens. A Nie kept his promises, no matter how small, and at least for the moment he was still a prospective junior disciple of the Nie sect, ward of the Nie sect leader and responsible for upholding his honor – even if he might not be so tomorrow.

The banquet was still going, though presumably it was finally reaching its tail end, and Meng Yao couldn’t help but wander over in that direction on his way to the kitchens to see if people were still talking about it. About him, him and his mother…

A figure stumbled out of the main hall into the unlit corridors, and two years of familiarity allowed Meng Yao to identify Nie Mingjue at once even before he staggered back against the wall for support, moonlight shining on his face. His eyes were strangely vacant, his mouth slack – was he drunk?

It seemed bizarre to even think it. For all that Qinghe Nie spoke big about how picking up your saber was the step into adulthood, no one would ever allow a boy of Nie Mingjue’s age to drink enough wine to become intoxicated, much less to such a degree. He shouldn’t have even had wine served to his place setting, and previous experiments had revealed that stealing a single cup wasn’t enough to cause any effect on Nie Mingjue’s top-rate constitution. So why..?

Meng Yao hesitated, wondering if he should go and help him. Yesterday he would have done it without thinking, but that had been before the events of the day…

A shadow covered the face of the moon, casting Nie Mingjue’s face into darkness.

No, he was wrong – it was only that there was a man in the hallway, standing now between Nie Mingjue and the open window, and he stepped forward to catch Nie Mingjue in his arms, helping him stand once more.

Someone else had gotten there first, it seemed, and Meng Yao was about to leave when the man smiled, a glint of teeth, and suddenly he recognized him, for all that he’d only seen him briefly years before.

Wen Ruohan.

Sect Leader Wen, the only thing that could make Jin Guangshan and Lao Nie forget their enmity for each other – a poisonous snake, a terrifying tyrant, a pestilence on the cultivation world that constantly tested Qinghe Nie’s borders and tried to lure away its affiliated sects, all the while smiling and denying that it was doing any such thing.

The man who had once chased Nie Mingjue into hiding himself in a brothel, and thereby changed Meng Yao’s life forever.

Meng Yao did not feel especially grateful to him for it. The scene before him suddenly took on new light: Nie Mingjue was no longer merely drunk, leaning on a friendly hand for support and making a nuisance of himself as he did – he was frowning almost as if he were having trouble realizing what was happening, trying to push Wen Ruohan’s hands away but with fingers too weak to put up much resistance, and Wen Ruohan smiling all the while. Meng Yao knew that the brothel had had drugs like that, dizzying intoxicants that sapped the body’s power and the mind’s stability; the owners used them on vulnerable women who tried to resist their offers, knowing that after they had lost their virtue once it would be easier to coax them into giving it away again.

If he’s disgraced, your brother is the heir, something deep inside him whispered, sounding almost like his mother. Lao Nie can’t cast out the mother of his heir, not the way he could a concubine and her shu son, and it’s not as if you have to do anything. You were already in bed, and no one would ever know that you saw anything –

He’d know, though. Wen Ruohan would probably be able to figure it out, too, with his high cultivation, and he could use it against him in the future.

So what? Even if you did see something, what could they expect you to do? It’s not as if you can do anything. Who do you think you are, some whore’s trash son that doesn’t even have a saber yet? You’d never be able to stop the mighty Sect Leader Wen who strikes fear even into the heart of the likes of Lao Nie. Better to just let it happen…

Nie Mingjue made a small sound, a tiny whimper that was barely audible and soon muffled by the fingers Wen Ruohan put on his tongue; the older man had pressed him against the wall, a leg pushed in between Nie Mingjue’s thighs, Nie Mingjue’s weak attempts to push him away translating as little more than gentle tugs on his robes. Using his body to keep Nie Mingjue pinned in place, Wen Ruohan’s free hand slipped down –

Meng Yao gritted his teeth and went away.

The kitchens still had lanterns lit, and skewers to carry a flame from one place to another – it hurt Meng Yao deeply to set fire to a store of rice, knowing it would have been enough to feed him and his mother for an entire season without going hungry, but it didn’t hurt as much as the thought of a future in which all those slandering tongues treated Nie Mingjue as if he’d never been anything better than Wen Ruohan’s whore.

“Fire!” he shouted once it has spread enough to be a threat. “Fire!”

One of the kitchen servants rushed in and saw, immediately joining his cry to Meng Yao’s, and soon enough everyone was rushing around frantically, more and more people drawn over by the noise. In the frenzy, Meng Yao slipped out and with a strong pinch made his eyes fill with tears.

“Da-ge!” he cried, throwing himself into Nie Mingjue’s arms the second he saw him – Wen Ruohan would never have feared discovery by a single person, easily discredited, but when all the sect leaders in the main hall had started coming over to see what was happening he had had no choice but to step away. “Da-ge, I went to get some snacks for Huaisang and there was a fire!”

Even drugged and assaulted, Nie Mingjue’s first instinct was to comfort; he awkwardly patted Meng Yao’s shoulders and back, slurring out an “it’s okay, Meng Yao” that barely sounded anything like it.

Meng Yao pulled back away from him and allowed disgust to twist his face, all the disgust and disdain and hatred that had been churning in his gut the entire evening – how dare they all judge him, those sect leaders who’d never known a day of hardship in their lives, how dare they say things about his mother, as if they knew anything about her simply because of the role she was forced to play…

“Meng Yao, is it?” Wen Ruohan said, and Meng Yao widened his eyes in a burst of panic as if he hadn’t realized anyone was there, hadn’t intended for the feelings on his face to be seen by anyone.

“Sect Leader Wen!” he said. “Forgive me, I didn’t see you there – please forgive my shixiong, I don’t know how he’s managed to get this drunk, to shame himself like this…”

“Think nothing of it. He’s still young, after all,” Wen Ruohan said generously, as if he had nothing to do with it. “You’re – the ward, yes? The concubine’s son?”

Meng Yao nodded, putting his best version of a coward’s smile on his face – the one that was gentle, the way he preferred to be, but with shades of weakness that brought out disdain and condescension in stronger men. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you any longer, Sect Leader,” he said sweetly, making it obvious that he was trying to pander. “I know you’re far too busy to be dealing with the stupidity of youth…”

Stupid, rather than foolish – meaning he thought that this reflected a judgment on Nie Mingjue’s character, rather than a momentary lapse. A cruel thing for a shidi to say, and to say that to a stranger, to Qinghe’s rival, was positively unpolitic; it would absolutely be a loss of face if it was called out.

But when such obvious weakness was displayed before a predator, it could also be seen as something else: an opportunity.

Wen Ruohan looked intrigued, as Meng Yao had hoped he would be – what would-be conqueror didn’t like the idea of recruiting a spy in another sect’s camp, especially one so highly placed? Especially one placed so near to something he wanted.

With a glance at the crowd that was growing rather than shrinking, he made his decision.

“Take him back to bed,” he told Meng Yao, who nodded eagerly. “And come see me tomorrow – you seem like a bright boy.”

“Of course!” Meng Yao chirped, looking as if he were overwhelmed by the extremity of Wen Ruohan’s favor, as if he could be bought with some pretty words and a little bit of resentment. He’d go, too, the next morning when the Unclean Realm was bustling with servants and a single shout could bring them running; he’d play up his young age, greedily gobble up the treats Wen Ruohan was sure to set out, and complain about how no one respected him, how everyone sneered at him, Jin Guangshan’s bastard – he’d whisper his fears about how Lao Nie would react – he’d puff himself up when Wen Ruohan inevitably flattered him.

It’d be easy enough to convince Wen Ruohan that he was weak, conniving, and greedy, the sort of person could be easily bought. The sort of person who would be happy to help a stranger sneak into his brother’s bed just to make himself feel better about being born the son of a whore.

If Wen Ruohan believed that that was who he was, what he was like, he would try to use Meng Yao to achieve his aims next time, and that would in turn mean that Meng Yao would be properly position next time to stop him – by accident, of course, or while trying to help him avoid notice, or whatever. Men like Wen Ruohan never really paid attention to their pawns after the initial coaxing period: once they considered someone to be theirs, once they’d judged someone too afraid to ever betray them, they got lazy and put down their wariness.

Meng Yao had met plenty such people in the brothel.

He carted Nie Mingjue off to bed – his bed, not Nie Mingjue’s, to reduce the danger – and Nie Huaisang (who was woken up by all the fuss) didn’t even notice the absence of the snack he’d been promised when it meant that he could sleep the rest of the night between his two brothers, his favorite place in the world to be.

He slept, and Nie Mingjue slept, and on the cold edge of his side of the bed, Meng Yao spent the rest of the night planning how to convince Lao Nie to let him and his mother stay. He had to stay, because if he left, if he left and Nie Mingjue had no one by his side, no one but Nie Huaisang who was too young –

Meng Yao didn’t know how long his da-ge’s carefree generosity could last in this cruel world, but he was determined to find out.

In the morning, as he’d hoped and feared, Nie Mingjue woke with no memory of the events of the night before.

It was good, because it meant that Meng Yao didn’t have to explain; bad, because who knew whether Wen Ruohan had tried a similar trick before with more success. The thought left a bitter taste in Meng Yao’s mouth, and it spilled from his mouth like poison when Nie Mingjue tried to ask him how he was feeling – “Don’t you know what they’re saying about me? All of them – my father.”

Nie Mingjue fell silent. “Meng Yao…”

“What? Can you stop their tongues? No one can change the facts of their birth, and yet I’m the one who keeps having to pay for it.”

“Meng Yao,” Nie Mingjue said, and his eyes were hurting. Good – let him hurt, let him feel one iota of what Meng Yao had always suffered, let him – “If I could make your father love you, I would.”

Meng Yao’s breath caught in his throat.

“If I could force him to honor you,” Nie Mingjue continued, voice solemn. “I would send you with him gladly, although I would miss you very much. I know it doesn’t mean anything just for me to say it, but…I would.”

It did, though. It meant quite a lot to know that the hurt in Nie Mingjue’s eyes had been for him, not from him. To know that he had heard all the stories, all the whispers, and in the end his only priority had been to think of how Meng Yao might feel.

To be angry, because Meng Yao wasn’t getting something he though Meng Yao should.

No, Meng Yao decided – no matter who he had to fight, whether Wen Ruohan or his own mother, he would find a way to stay by Nie Mingjue’s side.

(That was when he realized that he’d messed up his mother’s instructions even more than he’d meant, because he was never supposed to be the one that fell in love.)

#mdzs #nie mingjue #meng yao #jin guangyao #nieyao #nie huaisang #meng shi #lao nie #jin guangshan #my fic #my fics #super long chapter #probably should have split it in two #oh well #some disturbing content #check ao3 for warnings!#three gates

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soramel · 3 years ago

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Curiosity didn’t kill the cat | jjk ff

Part 3

jjkxreader

Prompt: “You’re early,” said the grim reaper with a hint of amusement.

Fantasy au, grimreaper!jungkook, reader, romance, slow-burn

Words: 3.4k approx. Part 3/5

Check this out on my wattpad account! I post one part ahead there.

Hollowing emptiness filled up your chest as a barren land came into view. An empty riverbed covered with ashes. You squinted against the ray of the sun.

You see nothing but the sky's horizon, another glare of light sent you looking down. Your hand served as the only shade against the glaring sun.

Blink.

Everything went dark.

A yearning love.

Your fist was clenched against your heart as it ached from within. You feel butterflies in your stomach. The unsettling yet warm feeling grew and grew until it became too much it made you curl down.

Everything feels soft against your skin. Silk satin draped around your body. You looked up, finding yourself in a bedchamber. Lamps were laid out on the wooden floor and on the tables, lighting up the darkness with dimmed warmth. You saw a man. His back against yours. His shoulder spanned wide as he slipped in a red robe.

Your fingers ached to reach him, to hold.

You lifted your hand.

Then suddenly, you're running on an empty hallway. Things passing in a blur.

Your eyes feel strained, your face drenched wet with sweat and your mouth could taste the salty tears running down your cheeks. Lifting your layered petticoat, the silk of its outer skirt crumpled against your palm.

Despite the confusion, you continued running. You just know you have to.

You have to escape.

They're coming.

Then a sudden realization stopped you in your tracks. As if air was pushed out of your lungs.

A high-pitched cry ripped through the air, like a wounded animal's, but it was from you. You found the helpless sound coming from your throat. You stared down at your arms grasping your body for something you could hold.

You realized you lost everything you fought for.

You're empty, yet you're filled full to the brim. Your cup overflowing with gut-wrenching pain, loss, and grief. Those emotions were deep-rooted from the love you have for him.

It dawned you.

It's all his fault.

The man you thought you love.

It's his fault.

He brought you nothing but suffering. You laid your heart out and sought for the little love he could give.

Yet there's been no one to yearn for but him, the future you could have together, the family you could have built. If things were just different.

A nightmare

That's what it is.

You jolted awake in a cold sweat.

Breathing in and out, you calmed yourself. Everything was just a dream. You're not dead. You're here in...

Whose place is this?

You turned to the creak of a door. Jungkook's all dressed in black. A fedora hat on his hand.

"Y/n," he greeted. "How was your sleep?"

"Jungkook?" you asked. Confused at how you knew his name.

His eyes went wide before nodding. "Yeah, I'm Jungkook, your assigned grim reaper."

You exhaled as you realized last night was not a dream. You died by mistake. In your sweater and pajamas.

"By the way, I have clothes for you. I figured you should come with me. For your safety,"

He then opened his bedroom door wider for you to come in.

The black trench coat felt heavy on your shoulder. Your outfit is similar to his, except the sordid hat on his head. He figured you could look like a grim reaper to ward off any wandering souls. Scaring them might help, save for the starving ones like the woman you encountered last night.

It's been five minutes of standing by on a bus stop. He just stood there and stared off in a distance. On an ordinary day, you thought you'd be stared down by the odd combo of your outfits, but at that moment, your presence was not visible to their eyes.

Jungkook pulled out his tablet as you watch the pedestrians crossing the street, envying how they go on with their mundane routine. Jungkook's brows furrowed as he navigated through the gadget, as if re-reading something.

You saw a ball rolled off the street, its owner chasing after the object. The boy sped off at the last few seconds, oblivious to the truck speeding above the limit.

Pointing your finger to the child, you tried to notify the people around you, "The-the..." you stuttered.

There's no time.

You ran to the boy without much thought, failing to notice you went to your desired position in a blink.

The grim reaper whipped his head up at the air's whoosh. His eyes widened as he saw you pitting yourself against the truck to protect the boy. Jungkook yelled after you, anger and worry bubbling from his chest at your stupidity.

Before he could yank you out of the way, a lapse in time occurred. No one felt it, except the grim reaper who's baby-sitting you.

Then the truck swerved to a different direction, screeching tires marked the road as the driver desperately tried to stop. But it was too late.

Shocked gasps rippled through the watching crowd. You turned back at the boy's sudden cry. He was attended to by his mother whose face was etched with burdening worry. You stared back to the man laying on the pavement. His body being crowded by the bystanders as they called for an ambulance.

A strong grip yanked you to the other side. Jungkook was raging. He was lost for words for a second before ending up shouting, "Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

You flinched from the pain of his gripping hold and from fear.

You took a step back.

"I... he's a child. The truck..."

"Why would you interfere?! Is that child's life different from the man's?! Who are you to weigh lives on your hands?! Have you lost your mind?!"

Lips trembling at his outburst, you looked back at the site of the incident. "I didn't know, I didn't mean to..."

I didn't mean to kill him.

You yanked back your arm, covering your ears upon hearing a voice. You stared at Jungkook in horror.

I think I am... I'm going crazy, you thought to yourself.

"He's alive!" Someone from the crowd shouted. The sound of ambulance echoed, approaching in a distance.

Jungkook dragged you to the scene, never letting go of you as he crouched down to hold the man's wrist.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips.

"He'll be fine," he muttered, more like to himself.

"I'm sorry," you told him, guilt laced in your tone.

The rest of the day were all spent in silence. Jungkook fetched two more souls and all the while you were just there beside him as he does his work, basically acting like his shadow.

You were walking down the sidewalk of a business district after sending off his last soul for today. He was supposed to send off three if not for your interference. He should've 6 souls left after this day, but you being in his roster and the child's suddenly shifted fate this morning, he's still 8 souls away from finishing his duty.

He tapped off on his tablet with a resigned hum as he found his schedule empty.

Tucking in the device back to his coat, he stared off across the buildings like an old man.

His gaze then fell to yours. Your eyes filled with innocence as you watch him.

He tutted before continuing walking. You sauntered after, head down.

"Ngghhhh..." you looked up at the noise and almost yelped at the gory looking ghost. His clothes were tattered, but he looks way more decent than the one you encountered last night. His eyes were dazed, staring at you.

Jungkook calmly diverted you to the other side, placing himself between you and the ghost, and you both kept on walking. He patiently said, "Don't stop. He wouldn't dare."

You followed his instruction, but your eyes were somehow glued on the man, seeing one of his shoes is missing. Jungkook hissed, "Eyes ahead."

You flinched and diverted your head forward. Only to face a busy lady engrossed on her phone. Jungkook halted pulling you in front of him to get you out of the way.

It's your first time seeing his face up-close in daylight. It was only then when you noticed that he's not wearing his fedora, his hair is clean-cut short, showing his eyes and ears. His hair is still down but gone were the unruly curls you remembered he was sporting.

"Your hair changed," you muttered, gaze grazing the outline of his face.

Jungkook blinked. Once. Twice.

Flick!

"Aw!" you yelped as you rub your forehead. The area he hit felt pulsing.

You glared him down, "What was that for?!"

He leaned back a bit, cocking his head to the side, "Thought of rebooting your brain. Guess my power's limited."

Your jaw went slack at the insult.

He stepped to the side and continued on walking. He then decided to brief you, "As an ordinary ghost, bumping through a human would mess up both of your energy. It's best to avoid them when you can."

Nodding in understanding, you strolled to his side, carefully avoiding any living humans on the sidewalk.

"Where are we heading?" you asked him.

"Nowhere," he replied.

The both of you kept walking for what felt like an hour. When he took a turn at the end of a curb, you couldn't help but complain, "For how long are we walking, can't you just teleport us to that place? I'm tired."

He turned to you, realization dawning on him. He then looked around and found an empty café. Without saying anything, he walked again.

"Aish, that arrogant jerk. @2^;*&! $%#4," you grumbled under your breath.

Jungkook held the door open for you. It's a wonder that he stays chivalrous when he's like the arrogant narcissistic bastards you've met before. One second he's looking after you, the next he acts as if you're a lint he's living with. A dirt he wants to dust off but will continue to live on his life.

He looked at you indifferently as you passed by with a glare.

You took the seat near a window, then the grim reaper followed, taking the seat in front of you.

The café was relatively empty. Its interiors adorned with fake plants and orchids. The walls were painted with wood and brick-like patterns. The table has a centerpiece of tissue holder, plastered with italics, "A true heart remembers".

Your gaze then turned back to Jungkook. You opened your mouth to say something, but his expression cut you off.

There he goes again.

Looking at you as if you're a parasite he's yet to figure out. His condescending stare ticks off your nerves.

You raised a brow, "What?"

He inhaled with a hiss, then tapped his fingers incessantly on the table as he exhaled.

"I haven't met someone as unfortunate as you," he started.

Lifting a hand closed to a fist, he unfolded his pinky finger, "You're below an average college student,"

followed by the next, "You barely have friends,"

and another, "You died on the way to your solitude, by mistake at that,"

Cocking his head to the side, he spoke to himself this time, his gaze averting yours, "Maybe if you're not a sore loser and attended that party, you could have lived, and I wouldn't be in this dire situation."

"I mean..." he trailed off.

"Nothing's so special about you,"

"Why?" he pouted, wondering as he held his hands up. You scowled. "Aside from brave stupidity, there's nothing much."

You shouted at his relentless insults, startling him.

"Will you really keep this up?" you asked, voice laced with sheer annoyance.

With his eyes wide, he reiterated, "I'm helping you here!"

He waggled his hand beside his forehead, saying, "I've been racking up my brain,"

Then he gestured towards you, "While you create trouble one after the other,"

"Maybe you don't have one. Don't try so hard," you retaliated.

Crossing your arms on your chest, you added, "Maybe if you're not a sore loser and did your life differently, you wouldn't be a grim reaper and you wouldn't have to put up with me."

He closed his mouth at that for a moment, before muttering, "I've been at this job ever since. I'm finishing my duty so I could live as a human."

The rush of triumph turned to guilt in a flicker.

"You were not reincarnated?" you curiously asked.

"I..." he trailed off, "I haven't asked. I don't know. Really."

You frowned, "Why would you want to be a human, anyway? You're powerful. You don't get tired, you don't get to work and fit a measly salary in a month, you don't have to study," the list on your mind could actually go on as to why he's better off than you.

"It's lonely to be alone," he simply replied.

"And that's my dream, as a grim reaper. We all want to be human after delivering 700 souls. I haven't questioned that career path ever since."

Your right cheek twitched. He's weird, they're weird. It's weird talking about supernaturals as if it's a corporate world. Jungkook sounded like a corporate slave.

At that, you sighed in realization. Even in the Afterlife, or whatever dimension you're in, it's all the same.

He called your name, reaching for your hands across the table. "That's why we should figure out how to fix your fate line. The spirit guide's helping us, but what if we discover something important to your case? The faster we figure things out together, the better."

Your gaze shifted from his hands to his face.

The surrounding brightened. Birds were chirping and you're hearing the still water's splashing against the bank.

You found Jungkook beaming at you. The first genuine smile you saw from him. The corners of his lips lifted into a curve, a bit of his gums showing, his pearly whites sparkling, his eyes twinkling in joy.

He's wearing a cylindrical hat, its wide brim filtering out the rays of the sun. His hair is in a top-knot as you can see through the partly transparent headpiece.

His dimple accentuated as he spoke, "Marry me,"

When you didn't answer, he mistook the confused look on your face. "The King gave us his blessing. The General, I mean, your father knows. He also agreed," he further explained.

"Jungkook," you breathed out.

Then the brightness faded, bringing you back to the café.

Jungkook was in much astonishment as you. You snatched your hands away, leaving his palms open.

It's of no-use but you truly felt your heart beating fast. You stared back to his eyes and again your heart skipped a beat.

"What was that?" he asked. "Did you see what I saw?"

You nodded. "I, we," you tried to compose a coherent sentence, but failed.

He nodded eagerly, "I need to make a call," he stood up, not waiting for a reply.

Jungkook went outside the café as he dialed on the phone. You met his eyes, and he didn't back down, giving you a steady intent look.

You could only see his mouth moving as he spoke.

Then waited, as he stared at you.

You steered away from his gaze as he snapped out of a trance. After a while, he brought his phone down.

You watch him go back to you, averting your eyes.

He wet his lips before saying, "The spirit guide is on an important matter right now. His secretary insisted on meeting him as planned."

"Have you told her what happened?" you asked.

Jungkook nodded, "I did, but he's with..." he trailed off and pointed his finger up.

Well, you can do nothing for now. You need to wait.

You nodded in acknowledgment.

It's nighttime and you were now in his apartment. You were sitting down on the couch as he paced back and forth in his living room, dizzying you in the process.

"Jungkook," you warned for the second time, begging him to stop.

"You asked to marry me, we were husband and wife, in our past life, so grim reapers do have a past," he chanted for the nth time.

"Hah! How dare them lie to us. They just wanted us to do their work without us making a fuss? 700 souls! Do you know how many criminals, psychopaths, nagging wives, and alcoholic husbands I've dealt with? It felt like a thousand! In exchange of what? This apartment and these boring clothes, that's it!"

He ranted.

"I should tell Taehyung and Yoongi about this," he resolved.

You let out an exasperated sigh. "And what? Form a union?" you asked with sarcasm.

He looked at you in horror, "Marriage is only for two people."

"Are you stupid?" he added before fumbling on his phone.

You rolled your eyes. You should've felt offended, but you couldn't even bother to correct him. That's how hopeless you think he is.

And stupid

And narcissistic at that.

"I didn't ask to marry you. You asked to marry me," you nonchalantly repeated for the second time again. However, you didn't even bother if he heard you or not. Jungkook also didn't care. His brows in a furrow as he waited for the other line to be picked up.

It seemed no one answered, but he tried again.

"Taehyung!" he exclaimed.

"Are you done?" he asked, taking a seat beside you.

"Meet me at my place and bring Yoongi hyung. I have big news for you, you wouldn't believe it."

"This is more important! Absolutely! It's a secret and you'll know it first from me."

"Ah, I can't go there. Too many roaming souls. I have..." he paused, looking at you, before continuing, "I have a baggage here."

You gaped at the use of his words.

Jungkook stood up, heading to the window. "No, I can't carry it. Just bring home soju and pears. Ah and if there's some porridge and rice cakes. Okay? Bye!"

He turned around and grinned at you, "I have a treat coming for you!"

Then you thought, he reminded you of Jimin's pet. That white ball of fur who did nothing but eat carrots and cabbage all day long.

"Cats, and dogs, and rabbits are lucky, they have a working pet to buy them food," you mockingly teased Jimin one time who's beaming at his bunny as he watched the cute monster chew.

"What?!" Taehyung yelled.

Jungkook smugly nodded. Taehyung stared at you then back to Jungkook. "So, she's your wife?" he asked to confirm.

You winced and cringed and you craved to fold your fingers. Taehyung is worse than Jungkook.

The bunny nodded once and proclaimed to emphasize a point, "She asked me to marry her."

You bit your lower lip in annoyance and threw the rice cake back to the paper plate. The three grim reapers were startled by your action.

Donning a fake smile, you tried your best to be patient and slowly explained, "Jungkook asked to marry me."

"We were in a lake," you started.

Taehyung looked at you attentively as he's sitting across the coffee table, ready to hear the version of your story. You pulled his hands to yours, "Then he held my hands,"

"He smiled at me, like this," you demonstrated. Trying to copy the face you remember with all the twinkling eyes.

"Then said, 'Marry me,'"

Jungkook, who's sat beside you, abruptly slapped your hands away from his friend. "Ouch!" you fussed, glaring at him.

"Why did you have to hold his hands? Saying that! Doing that!" he protested.

In which you argued, "So you'd remember! Your ass is too up high on your head! Why?!"

A giggle escaped Taehyung's lips as he nuzzled near Yoongi. "Look at them, they're so cute together!" he squeaked as he hugged the man. You winced at his remark.

Yoongi hissed in irritation. He pushed Taehyung's head away while the younger tried to brush his head off against him. Yoongi still won.

Out of the three, Yoongi seemed the most normal to you.

"Maybe you have to relive your life together to remember what happened," he muttered.

"But grim reapers are not supposed to remember their past, Jungkook. You have to be prepared."

Then he went on, "I knew grim reapers who crossed the 7 Trials without knowing their past. I also knew some who learned about who they were, but still chose to vanish. I don't know why."

He stared up, looking both of you in the eyes, as he said his final piece, "Remember who you were, but don't get too attached to your past. There's only one way forward."

#bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jjk fanfic #romance #jkxreader #jk x reader #jjk

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julyarchives · 4 years ago

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Lunar Love || (M)

Stuck between forbidden love and duty to the kingdom, decisions under the moonlight may change everything

→ Pairing: Yanan x Female Reader

→ Genre: Smut

→ Words: 2.8K

→ Contains: Smut; Princess MC; Royalty AU; whole lot of romance

→ A/n: So, we tried a different kind of language for this story, and writing this beautiful romance was really fun! We hope you guys like it as much as we do!

You consider yourself lucky. Being born part of royalty had something to do with that but also being able to live the life you wanted since a little kid was a dream come true. You have everything, a beautiful big royal housing, a lovely mother and a caring father, every luxury you could think of, and many more. Of course, it is not completely perfect, having strict duties and forced into marriage for alliance purposes was not at all part of your dream. But even though you were promised to a faraway prince, you had your own prince, so to speak.

Since learning you were to be married, your mother insisted on making you take classes on proper manners and house managing to suit your soon-to-be husband. She left the teaching role to the youngest and studied man in the kingdom. He was sure wise and proper like she expected you to be and it helped that he was a close friend of yours growing up. Yanan was a dream come true to all the royalty ladies you knew, and some commoners as well, and who was to blame…

Yanan took the role of your teacher against his will, claiming to be needed for studies elsewhere but never leaving nevertheless. He taught you many things as to how to please a man and honestly, it was all dull and you knew it. So did he. When he was certain you two were no longer watched closely by the Queen or any maid answering to her, he'd stop pretending he believed in female submission in marriage and simply enjoyed time with you.

That's when things went wrong. Or maybe incredibly right. You learned subtly that even though he was always leaving the kingdom for studies, his heart never parted with him, it always stayed in the royal housing, with you. To claim you loved him from the start is a lie, you didn't even know you were allowed to feel love for someone who was not to be your husband but his actions as the days went by, carefully moving his routine around you so to not force his feelings to the surface got you enchanted in mere weeks.

Once enchanted there were no turnbacks. Your cheeks would flame up as he smiled at you, his smooth and gentle manners captivating your heart more and more. Subtly, just as the wind caressed your faces by the housing lake, you confessed your confusing heart, even if it hurt knowing this lovable man was not to be yours. That day he was your first. Your first love, kiss, and first night awake in someone else's arms. It was also your first tears when you parted ways, scared of never living your love.

Since that day your chambers were always filled with flowers, coloring the royal house differently, filling your heart with more love and more longing. The maids designed to accompany you always thought it was the goodwill of yours to be husband and you nodded along, letting your mind dream that to be true. The downside of being a princess was the need to be surrounded by people all the time, your security and comfort coming first, so outside classes, it was incredibly hard to meet Yanan.

So when he showed up at the door of the main room as you had your daily tea with other noblewomen, your heart almost stopped. Their whispers angered you in envy and jealousy but your eyes were strained in the soft black-haired man standing in front of you. With an elegant bow, he addressed you.

"My princess", he kissed your hand as any other man would but the tenderness you felt there was special.

"What brings you here?"

"I was given this message. I was told to deliver it to you to deal with it privately, since I'm closer acquainted with you, my Princess".

You nodded, lost for words. You quickly unfolded the parchment and you almost dropped it from shaking.

As the moon sets higher, I'll be waiting by your beloved garden. Be so kind to meet me there after dinner.

"I- I completely understand, sir. Please take this away and seek to do what you judge best with it. Maybe burn it", the shocked gasps from the ladies brought you back to reality. "Oh, fret not, ladies. It was a mere message from the head maid over my request to more rose waters".

You prayed for it to be enough to calm them down and luckily it did. It was not good to have them gossip about what that note was about. They knew better to question you and even better to know you're not supposed to keep a message from a housekeeper. His elegant writing was impossible to not recognize and you smiled gently at him, bowing your head and watching him leave silently. Your heart was euphoric and you knew time was going to pass way more slowly than usual. Thankfully it was the end of the afternoon and soon enough you had to go have dinner with your family and nobles.

Dinner did no good to you, for it was spent exchanging secret looks between you and your lover, anxiety building up as the clock ticked away the long seconds remaining for your tryst.

“You look rather distracted, my dear” your mother stated, “is there something troubling you?”

“I’m just a little tired, mother, nothing a good rest can not fix,” you said, containing your leg under the table, which was shaking in anticipation.

You tried your best to remain present, but your mind did nothing but wander back to the last time your lips met, your romantic rendezvous rather chastely, but now you were craving his lips like you never had before, dreaming about the feeling of being in his strong arms again.

Took it long enough, but you were finally excused from the table and accompanied to your room by your loyal maidens.

“I shall not be disturbed tonight, for I must heal from this terrible headache” you dramatically touched your temples. “Wake me up only for my morning tea.”

They bowed obligingly, leaving to fulfill their other duties.

Wasting no time, you evaded your chambers as soon as there was no one in sight, not even bothering changing from your formal dress, carefully prepared for dinner with guests. You ran away, sneaking around hidden corners that only you knew, and finally, you made it to the gardens.

Your beloved awaited for you under the pale moonlight, which reflected on his skin beautifully like he was part of the collection of marble statues that adorned the bushes and flowers in the area. He was breathtakingly handsome, and you felt like the luckiest lady in all the kingdom.

He spared his words as he simply took your hand and, in between giggles, you two ran fast through the darkest spots, finally making it to the forest, where you two could live your romance without being bothered by the real world. Over there you two could be accomplices and lovers, living your fantasy and desires as you please, whilst everything else was dearly forgotten. Far enough from the castle, the moon was the only source of light, and it didn’t take long for his lips to urgently seek yours.

You blushed, embarrassed from the moan that escaped you as soon as you felt him all over you.

“I longed for a taste of you, my lady” he whispered between kisses.

“Me too, my charming lover” you confessed “being in your arms last time only made me yearn for more.”

He kissed you passionately, but his hand gently found in your, and in between pecs he said:

“I’ve prepared something for us.”

You followed him without any hesitation, trusting him with your life and heart.

A bedsheet spread across the prickly grass decorated with flower petals awaited you both on a glade. You removed your shoes, so did he, and you two stood in the middle of it, now kissing with patience. His hands now caressed your face, kindly guiding you with sweet dominance, and you were completely his.

"May I touch your beautiful skin, my princess?" He said, hand positioning on the small of your back, ready to untie your corset.

You nodded and so he did. Although he was undressing you, and you were now more vulnerable and exposed than you've ever been before, his eyes were locked on yours. Even as he slid your dress down your shoulders, dropping it at your feet, he still couldn't stop staring at your face, eyes burning with love, and yours reciprocating in the same intensity.

He then proceeded to delicately kiss your shoulders, as he was caring for every centimeter of skin he could see. You longed to feel him as well, so you took his jacket off, then unbuttoned his shirt. Your hands immediately went to his back, his wariness comforting against your palm.

"Make me yours, my sweet Yanan." You whispered in his ear "for tonight I'm no princess, nor any part of royalty. I am yours and yours only."

"What have I done to be gifted with such blessings? Or perhaps I'm being tainted with the most beautiful sin." He said, locking eyes with you again, resting his forehead against yours as he held you close.

"I am no devil as well, but if sinning is drinking from you, then nor a saint I am." Was your final words before pulling him into a passionate kiss.

Both of your exposed chests were now pressed together, and although this was your first time being undressed in front of a man, you felt no shame. The moment was magically flowing, and it was a bubble you never wanted to come out of.

Yanan was still a little bit cautious, afraid of crossing any limits, always treating you so gently. You decided to encourage him and guide his hand to your chest, making him gasp with the contact.

"Touch me, my love" you said in between kisses

"Let's lay down first, darling" he replied, holding you still, so you would do it comfortably.

You laid against the soft sheets and he positioned himself on top of you. Yanan still had his bottoms on, but somehow that made him more attractive. He put his hand back in your chest, this time more sure of it, and now massaging it lightly while his finger played with your nipples.

You felt wetness pooling in between your legs, and the bulge in his pants told you he was aroused too, and taking advantage of that, you buckled your hips against his, getting some relief from the friction, small moans escaping both of your lips.

"Those sounds are heavenly" Yanan whispered, nibbling your earlobe.

You let out another moan as a response, and to reward you Yanan caught your other nipple in his lips, swirling his tongue around it, making you throb in desire. Your finger intertwined in his soft hair, tugging it to show him that you were liking what he was doing, your moans becoming louder as you did so. He put his tight higher up, so now you were riding it, the jolts of pleasure pooling in your lower stomach.

"I need you inside me, Yanan" you managed to say, sliding your hand inside his pants and lightly stroking his member.

There was no time to lose as you felt desperation so strange yet so welcoming to have him. And thankfully his desire matched yours, his moan indicating his own lust. He pulled down his pants enough to get his member free and entered you slowly, eyes locked in yours, his hands finding yours to hold. It was such a special moment, your connection going beyond anything you ever felt, it was physical and emotional, you felt in your soul and when he shuddered from being inside of you, you knew both of you needed him to move.

"My love, please, I need you", you whispered, feeling the stretch burning so pleasantly.

"Any wish of yours is a command to me, my princess", he whispered back, hips moving slowly against you.

You both moaned at the feeling and you held his hand tighter, his member hitting the perfect spot for you to see stars with eyes closed. Yanan whispered praises at you nonstop, pouring his heart out for you as he picked up speed slightly with his thrusts, his own need clouding anything else. The night felt hotter as he made love to you in a gentle yet intense manner, his voice sending shivers down your spine and his member sending flames up your core. All too soon your hips moved harder against him, a silent plea to release the impending desire burning inside of you. He grunted at that, grinding harder and faster against you, feeling you clench around him.

"Let go, my love. Let it wash over you, that desire inside", he moaned, one hand caressing your nipple again.

It was all too much for you, eyes closing and mouth opening in ecstasy, moaning nonsense that only your heart knew. That white-hot burning feeling taking over your body and you knew no other man would ever make you explode like him. Yanan followed immediately, voicing his own love for you as he spent inside of you. Your body shook from the intensity of your orgasm and Yanan held you close as he finished with you, both of you a trembling mess. When you both came down from it, eyes staring curiously and adoringly at each other, you couldn't help but smile at him, your free hand moving a lock of his hair behind his ear, his own smile matching yours.

Yanan laid next to you and you turned to cuddle him, laying your head on his chest, hearing his heart beating as if to the sound of thunder. For a moment you worried for he spent inside of you and your hand shot to your belly, holding it as if your fear became true at the second you felt it.

"It would be a beautiful child if it had your eyes, my lady", he smiled down at you, knowing what your fear was.

"I beg to differ, my love. If the child was ever to be born, it'd be a delight to have one with your handsome features", you smiled back.

"Y/N, I sure feel I am not worthy of your affection, impossibly so of having your body next to mine as we are, but my lady, you have my undying devotion". Yanan's eyes were heavy and the sudden change worries you.

"What worries you, dear? Why are you telling me your heart once more?", you sat up, not even caring about your nakedness and he sat up as well.

"We are not fated together, my lady. We are challenging fate and the palace goodwill just by being close", he sighed, his hand caressing your cheek adoringly, "the King is pushing up the date to your marriage, my princess".

Your head began to spin and he could only hold you close as silent tears adorned your face. Holding him close, all you knew was that no matter what happened, you'd fight for your love, you'd stay by Yanan's side for the rest of your life, no matter how many years.

"If I were ever so brave to challenge fate, even more, my love…", he spoke so low you had to look up so you could understand, "I'd propose a new life for our love. A new start to our hearts, together, on a faraway land. Where no prince will steal my heart's muse from me again".

His smile matched yours and you knew it was the only way. You didn't answer when he brought up the marriage by being certain a sob would come out instead of words of how you felt like a different kind of explosion would burst in your chest.

"It is the only way to make our love happen, my sweet Yanan. And if I have to fight until the day of my death for your love, then so I will. You tell me when and I'll run away with you without any hesitation, my love".

"Tomorrow", his stern voice made you shiver in excitement. So he had plans for you, he was fighting for you and that made tears pool in your eyes. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much but you didn't even care. "I took the liberty to think of a plan to start anew, my princess, for I knew your heart is a mirror to mine and so will be for all eternity. From tomorrow on, I'm forever yours, my beautiful Y/N".

"From tomorrow to all eternity, my beautiful Yanan".

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jamespotterthefirst · 4 years ago

Text

The Art of Observation

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.5K (sorry again!) Warning: None Author’s Note: The coffee house scene from book 1, chapter 7 from Ethan’s POV.

Catch up here.

_______ A rational man would keep his distance.

But Ethan discovers, with some dismay, that he is nothing close to a rational man because he finds himself in her presence again. This time in line at his favorite coffee house and at his own invitation.

“What's your poison?” he asks, unsure of what else to say as they wait.

Lilac looks up at him, quirking her lips in thought, the gesture entirely too lovely.

“Surprise me,” she tells him at last, breaking him from his wandering thoughts. “I trust you.”

His chest swells at the words and he clings to them for a second longer. The smiling barista waits patiently and Ethan schools his features with practiced expertise.

“I’ll have the Vienna and she’ll have…” He glances down at her smiling yet intrigued face as he considers what to order for her. In the span of a second, he recalls the cloud of misery swirling over him that morning as he marched towards Naveen’s room, feeling as helpless as ever. Until she found him, kind eyes piercing him completely as she said, “I wanted to ask how you’re doing.”

“...the espresso Romano.”

Lilac’s brows furrow with curiosity but she doesn’t ask. Instead, she hurries to dig her credit card out of her purse. “I’ll pay.”

With a shake of his head, he places a hand over hers, gently pushing it back.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says, shaking his head again when she opens her mouth to argue. The barista smiles fondly at them, her bespectacled eyes falling on their joined hands. Abruptly, Ethan jerks it away, feeling his neck flare with heat.

“I know how much interns get paid,” he adds quickly, inwardly grimacing as soon as the words leave him. His addled, panicked mind blurted them out in a misplaced effort to appear nonchalant. God, why was he such an imbecile around her?

After he pays, he leads her to his usual table by the window. Lilac settles in her seat with an easy comfort that he almost envies.

“Do you come here a lot?” she asks, glancing around appreciatively.

“Fairly often. Sometimes I need a moment where nobody needs anything from me. No one here recognizes me, no one cares who I am.” He vaguely gestures toward the many patrons around them. Many of them rush out in a hurry, caffeinated drink clutched in hand. Others occupy the bar stools or tables, too engrossed in newspapers or screens to pay them any mind. The only eyes on Ethan are a pair of striking green ones, watching him with silent admiration.

He ignores the pleasant swoop of his stomach. “Thirty minutes with a good roast and a new book works wonders. I didn’t bring a book, however, so I suppose you’ll have to entertain me.”

He meets her eyes in the charged silence. Lilac's lips begin to lift in a smile, a sure sign she is accepting the challenge. Just then, however, the friendly barista arrives with their drinks. Lilac observes the curly lemon twist adorning hers with amusement.

“Lemon, huh?”

“Espresso Romano is a double espresso with sugar and Meyer lemon, both squeezed into the brew and rubbed on the rim. It brightens the espresso and cuts the edge off the bitterness.” Once again, his mind travels to the icy dread in his stomach earlier as he walked down the construction zone towards Naveen, almost too afraid to face him. Before he can dwell on it, Lilac's gentle smile captures his attention, as incandescent as the beams of the sun burning through fog. “Try it.”

Keeping true to her declaration of trusting him, she takes a sip. Her eyes light up as the flavor hits her tongue. “Hey, not bad! Certainly an interesting mix of flavors.”

The reaction is entirely too pleasing to Ethan, so much so that he rants, “Just don’t ask for it in Rome. It’s a misnomer, and they won’t know what you’re talking about.” Ethan stops with a private cringe at the senseless rambling. Bravely, he adds, “But I thought you might like it.”

Her eyes light up with interest.

“What made you think that?”

The question is entirely too coquettish to be innocent.

“Simple observation.”

“So what, you’re studying me?”

A swift flush travels from his neck to his ears.

“I study everyone, Rookie. I observe everyone. As should you,” he deflects. “In fact, that’s one of the reasons I most enjoy coming here. The clientele can be… intriguing at times.”

To his surprise, she wrinkles her nose in distaste.

“No way, I like to tune out the whole world,” she explains. “If I have a good book, I’d rather be curled up on the couch with a blanket. I don’t want any distractions at all.”

Ethan smiles at the impassioned declaration, realizing it coincides with everything he has learned about her.

“I suppose that’s fair. I mostly read historical nonfiction in what little spare time I have.” Lilac matches his smile with one of her own, perhaps knowing that much about him, too. “Being out in the world adds to the experience for me. Everything around us is part of the same fabric.”

What was he talking about? Ethan couldn't sound more like an arrogant ass if he tried.

He rushes on, “But the art of observation...it’s critical to our work as diagnosticians. You’ve already begun to understand that.” Ethan glances around the tiny but crowded shop until his eyes fall on a man around his same age. “For example… that man there, the one reading a book. He’s deeply troubled. Something’s gnawing at him.”

Lilac follows his line of sight. “How can you tell?”

“He hasn’t turned a page the entire time we’ve been here.”

Lilac stares at the man a bit longer to verify his claim. When the man continues to glance at the same page, she allows an impressed nod.

Ethan doesn’t have time to feel smug because as her eyes fall back on his, she fixes him with a very sharp and serious expression. Green eyes study him astutely, almost as if they can see right through him and conclude that something is gnawing at him, too. Could she read the anguish at failing his friend, weighing heavy in his chest? The grave set of her mouth as she studies him tells him that she might, despite his masterful efforts at keeping his emotions hidden. The beat of his heart spikes up as he remains motionless, transfixed.

Hastily, he tears his eyes away from hers, making himself busy with drinking from his mug.

“You give it a shot,” he prompts quietly, desperate to change the subject.

Lilac blinks but recovers by straightening in her seat. She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear as glances around. Ethan's eyes linger on the small tress she missed, falling weightlessly against her cheek. He has the wild urge to sweep it away, his calloused fingers lingering against the freckles that taunt him so often.

He is pulled from that silly fantasy by her imperceptible nod towards the entrance. A blonde woman, looking to be a few years younger than Lilac, rushes into the store, hand nervously tugging at her coat. Her hair sticks wildly in all directions, the back of it reassembling a nest of some sort.

“I think she got laid last night,” Lilac says casually.

Ethan's mug freezes halfway to his mouth. He is grateful for that or half of his drink would be sprayed all over the grinning young doctor before him.

“Come again?”

“That’s totally sex hair,” she explains wisely. At his aghast expression, she laughs and adds, “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Their eyes fall on the woman now waiting for her order by the pick-up counter.

“Besides, that look on her face?” Lilac continues wickedly. “Pure satisfaction.”

Ethan's eyes fly back to hers. “What makes you so sure?”

“I know it well.”

Throat dry, he struggles to keep his thoughts decent with herculean effort. He wavers for a second, wondering briefly what a satisfied Lilac might look like, breathless, cheeks flushed, and looking at him through heavy lids.

Mercifully, Lilac is no mind reader, no matter how well she proves to read him. Her attention is on the woman, now making a beeline towards the exit with her coffee. They catch an undeniable glimpse of a sequined dress under her coat. No doubt worn to a nightclub the night before and worn again this morning in her haste to leave her lover's bed.

“Okay, you win that one.”

She brings her mug to her lips but the victorious smile is still evident in her eyes. The chime of the entrance door bell rings loudly over the acoustic cover of a Michael Jackson song playing through the speakers. Bearclaw Man strolls in and lines up at the counter.

An idea strikes as Ethan suppresses a euphoric grin.

“Try to top this,” he tells her. “Based on how he carries himself, I bet that gentleman is going to order two venti macchiatos, one with almond milk, one coconut. And, hmm…” He feigns deep thought. “Let’s say a bearclaw. To-go.”

As if on cue, Bearclaw recites Ethan's words verbatim to the barista. He couldn't have done it better if Ethan had paid him.

Lilac's mouth falls open comically. “What?! There’s no way you predicted that!” She turns to Ethan, at once sensing his stifled laughter. “That’s total B.S.! You cheated somehow.”

He stops fighting back and allows a deep, genuine bout of laughter, his shoulders feeling lighter somehow. “Indeed. That man comes in with the same order nearly every day I’m here.”

“So you were just trying to impress me.”

Busted.

“Hardly,” he lies shamelessly. “I’m trying to impress upon you the importance of observation and memory. My point stands. Observation is key. The subtle signals, the hidden details...all the secrets in plain view.” His attention is entirely on her, all pretense and humor gone from his face. She is watching him just as attentively. “Everyone throws a curtain over their lives, hopes it will smooth out the edges and hide the flaws...but the truth always shines through.” As he speaks, his words begin to lose steam, an earth shattering realization beginning to stir him as he looks at her. “Always.”

Neither of them breaks eye contact, maintaining the spell—the illusion of being the only two in that shop, mere feet apart.

“You just have to learn to look for the light,” he finishes quietly.

As he watches her, he can see a silent realization dawn on her face. Her eyes widen slightly with a multitude of emotion before she hurriedly casts her eyes away.

“Everyone?” she asks with pause. She seems to be mustering up the courage to meet his eyes again and when she does, she says, “You’re right. I know I always try to seem more together than I feel. If people knew what was going on inside… well, let’s just say it’s good they don’t.”

The finality in her words feels forced to Ethan, as though there is so much more she is not saying.

“Precisely. If you’re self-aware about it, at least that brings you one step closer to some sort of truth.”

It's as if the words are spoken by someone else. They echo in his mind as he finally acknowledges the inexplicable, maddening feeling that constantly pulls him towards her. At long last, he accepts it, recognizing he lost that battle a very long time ago.

Lilac takes another drink of her espresso as patrons mill about them, uncaring that the world had entirely shifted on its axis mere seconds ago.

“Alright,” she says after a moment, plastering a cheerful smile on her face. “Let’s up the ante. What do you see when you observe me?”

Ethan drinks the last dregs of his coffee as he thinks, studying her over the rim of his cup. The first memory that finds him is the night Dolores died and Lilac staying by his side like no one ever had before.

“You’re too selfless,” he says. “You care more about your patients than about yourself. One day, that’s going to get you in trouble.”

A heavy silence ensues in which he swears he can see brief shock cross her face.

“So how’d I do?”

Her answer is in the form of a courageous smile that doesn't entirely reach her eyes. “You’re way off the mark.” The taunt is almost credible but Ethan knows better. “Swing and a miss. Sorry, you’re completely wrong.”

He humors her with a chuckle. Kindly, he says, “I’m not sure I am.”

Very subtly, she straightens in her seat saying nothing.

“Now do me.”

This makes her almost choke on her espresso. After fighting back a small cough, that cheeky smirk makes a reappearance, much to Ethan's utter confusion.

Whatever that was about, Lilac doesn't explain. She instead scrutinizes Ethan thoughtfully, lush bottom lip caught in a bite. He's not certain what will kill him first, the sight of it or the anticipation of her response.

“You’re lonely,” she concludes.

“I am not lonely,” he returns at once. “I’m desperate for any moment to myself.”

“I’m not sure about that,” she deflects, waving a hand. “You could go read in your office on a break. But instead you come here to people-watch.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but the truth of her words catch up to him. Solitude had always been a rare gift for Ethan, particularly when so many people had demands on his time. He had always relished a drink in silence or the comfort of a book. He had never needed or craved companionship until… until the people he loved the most left his life forever— his mother, Dolores, and now Naveen.

Ethan meets her expectant gaze.

“Did you feel this way before Dr. Banerji retired?” she asks kindly.

Stomach clenching tightly at the question, Ethan stares at those knowing green eyes for a long moment.

“Well? Am I right or what?”

“As usual, Rookie, you’re only half-right. And in medicine, that counts for nothing.”

Lilac looks wholly unconvinced. When she opens her mouth, Ethan is certain it is to continue arguing the point. Mercifully, his pager interrupts.

“Come on, then. My pager is buzzing. We should be getting back.”

As they trek through the crowded streets of Boston, Ethan glances down at her, unable to suppress the half smile she inspires. She had definitely been wrong in her assessment of his loneliness because at that moment, as she smiles brightly back at him, he does not feel so lonely anymore.

_______

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! A bit shout out to @thegreentwin, @aestheticartwriting, @apphia12, @chasingrobbie, @vallerwhoas, @mvalentine for the title ideas!

_______

tags:

@dulceghernandez | @lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing

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vannahfanfics · 3 years ago

Text

Unpredictable

Category: Drama

Fandom: FullMetal Alchemist

Characters: Envy

Hey, everyone! I’m happy to finally present the piece I wrote for the @devilsplaygroundzine, which centers on Envy!

The flickering orange tongues of the crackling fire several yards away reflected in Envy’s eyes as he crouched in the dirty, dank alleyway. It was one of the many neglected nooks and crannies that abounded the Ishvalan slum encroaching upon the outer rim of Central City. It truly was a miserable place, Envy decided quite early on in strolling around; nothing but ramshackle hovels and ash-choked firepits and rank outhouses.

It was also the perfect domicile to have himself a bit of fun. Lounging around in those stinking sewers torturing the chimeras had grown quite dull. Thus, there Envy was, hunching down in the darkness opposite a small hovel watching as the Ishvalan refugees obliviously went about their business. It was a family, parents with a daughter who could be no older than five. They kneeled beside the fire, above which several sticks of freshly-caught trout were just nearly roasted; their hands pressed together while their heads bent in prayer. Envy sneered at the notion. So stubbornly, they clung to their God, which had allowed them to be massacred like sheep among wolves. I suppose they have to believe in something, lest they fall into despair.

That’s what Envy found so infuriating about humans, their unyielding tenacity and nauseating bonds. It’d be so much easier if they just wallowed in self-pity and defeat. The Homunculi pitted them against one another, and then suddenly, they’re preaching forgiveness and empathy. Envy’s teeth dug into his bottom lip as the image of a certain blond-haired, golden-eyed, loud-mouthed twerp who so embodied those ideals materialized in the gloom. Go away, FullMetal brat, he growled silently and waved a hand to banish the phantasm. It dissolved into dust, joining the thin coating on everything in the miserable slum.

Forgiveness and empathy could only last so long, however, until indomitable rage consumed them. Sneering roguishly, Envy crawled on all fours towards the humble little family, while his body morphed into the likeness of an Amestrian soldier. I’ll destroy it, he swore. I’ll destroy the hope and togetherness you covet so much!

“Good evening.” Envy froze mid-step when the Ishvalan man suddenly addressed him. It wasn’t right. Why was the monk not cowering in fear? The Ishvalan’s hands calmly rested upon his lap, and his white eyebrows curved slightly from the welcoming smile adorning his face. Still half-cloaked in shadow, Envy’s false blue eyes were wider than the full moon shining above. The mother had not even moved to protect her child. She ignored Envy and poked at the embers to send the dying fire gushing up once more. The flames licked greedily at the underbellies of the fish, charring the flesh. One, two, three… four, he counted blankly, though he knew not why. It wasn’t right, not at all. Where was the fear? The hate? The despair?

Why the hell were they smiling so contentedly, dammit?

“You must be tired from your patrol,” the man continued. Envy’s wits trickled back through the dam that had blocked the river of his mind. Patrol, yes. He was wearing the skin of an Amestrian soldier. It would make sense that he was patrolling the slum. Envy’s gold eyebrows quirked when the monk gestured to one of the cooking trout. “Please, we have one to spare. Help yourself.”

Envy was utterly flabbergasted. I don’t understand. I don’t understand. Ishvalans should hate Amestrians, especially the soldiers that mercilessly murdered their people by the thousands. Envy remembered it so well, corralling them to mow them down with machine guns, driving bayonets into long-dead bodies, children and mothers and even hardy men wailing in terror. This man should be slamming him up against the dirty brick wall, driving a fist into his jaw while the mother screamed and held her crying child. Yet, he was… inviting Envy to eat with them? He didn’t understand it, none of it.

Especially the fact that he wanted to agree.

Envy regarded the man suspiciously. Perhaps it was a trap. Yes, that’s what it could be; lure him in a false sense of security so his fellows could strike at Envy from behind. What a fun alternative. They could stick his back with so many daggers that he looked like a blood-soaked porcupine; it didn’t matter. Envy wouldn’t die. He found himself grinning at the bloody slaughter that would follow. Sure, old man, he cooed in his demented mind. I’ll play your game.

Envy smoothed the creases of the fake uniform before strolling over to the fire. The little girl’s red eyes bored into him as he knelt before the flames. Envy plucked the charred trout from the sand and scrutinized it. The scent of smoke and salt and even a few seasonings wafted up his nose, and despite himself, his mouth watered. One would think with their status, the Homunculi would eat well, but only Pride and Wrath had that honor. The rest of them had to go scrounging around like common urchins. Envy felt a little silly for salivating so excessively over some smoked trout, but his growling stomach soon overrode any prideful inhibitions.

“Thanks, old man,” he grunted before tearing his teeth into the succulent flesh. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when the flavor exploded over his tongue. A hell of a lot better than the plain slop he stole on the daily around Central. Within seconds he was ravenously shredding into the fish. He paused, juice and bits of scale and meat dripping from his chin, as the Ishvalan laughed heartily.

“I knew you had to be hungry. A soldier’s duty is a demanding one.”

“Oh yeah?” Envy asked, eyebrow creeping up his forehead. He wasn’t quite sure where the monk was guiding the conversation. His ears pricked, listening for the sound of shuffling in the surrounding darkness, but he could not discern the presence of a potential surprise attack. The man’s kind face revealed no hostile intent. Envy finished off the fish and tossed the white bones into the fire, then began picking his teeth with the skewer. “Old man, I don’t get it.”

“Get what, young man?”

“Don’t you hate Amestrians?” A confused look passed over his face. For the first time, the woman stiffened and reached over to grasp her daughter’s hand. Envy watched, internally squirming with glee, as the man’s brown face sagged into sadness. Yes. Get sad. Then hate me. Then try to kill me, you foolish, predictable little human.

“No,” he contradicted, and Envy’s mouth fell agape. “I do not hate Amestrians.” Envy thought that surely, he must be lying, but it was hard to believe that when the older adult flashed him a soft, genuine smile. He did not care to elaborate, either; he just took his fish from the fire and calmly consumed it. Envy stared down into the orange flames. He had seen so many of them in his lifetime, gigantic white-hot flames that destroyed everything in their path - homes, crops, people - indiscriminately. Envy’s eye twitched as he struggled to comprehend the human monk.

I don’t understand. How can humans just so easily extend their hands and say, “it’s all right?”

Envy turned his head at the distant sound of screams and wails, rapidly growing closer. The end of the street was glowing auburn, just like the fire casting light upon his pale face. Little golden lights began to bob amongst the gloom, their ovoid forms growing with each passing second. From the darkness came frightened Ishvalans, tripping over their sandaled feet in a terrified effort to escape what was approaching. One of them, a twenty-something, stumbled and landed in the dirt on his belly behind Envy. The Homunculus stared disinterestedly at his hyperventilating form, while the monk scurried to his side. “What is it? What’s happening?”

“Amestrians!” the boy gasped. Envy’s mouth twitched into a sneer, which he hid in his palm. “An entire mob stormed across the river to the west with torches and weapons,” he sobbed and covered his head when a building a few houses down exploded. Scorching wood and glass bits rained down upon them. A few of the sharp objects sliced into Envy’s skin; the Ishvalans were too busy panicking to notice the small red lightning that skittered over his healing flesh.

“They must be angry about the fishing party earlier today,” the mother whimpered and hugged her daughter into her bosom. The little girl’s red irises swam in a sea of white. Envy stared thoughtfully at the skewer, then flipped it in his hand to brandish the pointy end. The monk had just finished bustling the man to his feet when he turned to Envy, who was languidly rising.

“You must leave. A single soldier cannot quell this hateful mob alone.”

“And what? You think a pacifying monk can?” Envy leered. The man winced; Envy had hit the nail of his intentions on the head. The next building erupted into flames, sending the shriek of hot wind and agonized screams into the air. Envy could leave, if he wanted to, and watch the slum burn from the tops of Central Command. He stared thoughtfully at the pointed wooden stick in his hand.

I don’t understand it, he thought once more with a small sigh. I really don’t, these humans and their kindness. However, he grinned seditiously, and his skin began to morph, the visage of the Amestrian soldier falling away to reveal his skinny and long-haired self. I understand the Amestrian’s hate perfectly fine. The family was finally cowering in the entrance of their little hut, which was no more than some cloth draped over some stacked boxes.

“Mister,” the little girl squeaked. She jumped when he turned his eyes on her. “What are you?”

“Oh, me?” he grinned and dramatically placed a hand over his chest. “I’m a monster.”

“What are you going to do?” the monk asked him with narrowed eyes. Envy shrugged and began strolling off toward the fiery carnage. The Ishavalans were attempting to throw pails of water onto the burning houses. Within seconds the angry mob of Amestrians cornered them and began beating them with sticks and fists. Envy sneered. So unpredictable yet so predictable. What a dichotomous breed. “What are you going to do?” the man yelled after him insistently, and Envy tossed a bored look over his shoulder.

“Me? Well, I’m going to do what monsters do best.”

It didn’t take long. Humans were just frail sacks of blood and meat. Still, a casual bloodbath was preferable to an actual challenge in this case. Constantly regenerating was exhausting and annoying. The Homunculus came strolling back to the little hovel, where the family still huddled inside shaking. His body still sparked to heal the bloody knife wounds he had incurred. Envy stopped in front of the shack and dropped the skewer in front of them. It was now dyed red and dripping with blood, just like his body. Their equally red eyes beheld it with a mixture of awe and horror.

“Thanks for the fish, old man,” Envy smirked and turned on his heel.

“Wait!”

Envy’s eyebrow raised as he looked over his shoulder. The little girl stumbled out, ignoring her parents hissing at her to get back into the tent. Envy’s eyebrow climbed higher when she offered him a little white weed flower. Her hands trembled as she crushed the green stem in her small fist. “Thank you for saving us.”

“Heh,” Envy grinned and took the flower from her. “Don’t thank me, squirt. I was just having some fun.” With that, he whirled on his heel and melted back into the darkness. Eventually, the slum fell behind him, replaced with dark woods. As Envy strolled along the path, he gazed thoughtfully down at the little flower, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger.

Humans, he frowned and tucked the flower behind his ear. So unpredictable… I hate them for that.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#envy #fullmetal alchemist #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood

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cupsofsuga · 5 years ago

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𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ━ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 *:·。.

{ ⚠️} WARNING - This is a yandere au, meaning the following may be triggering to some viewers. I am not trying to discriminate the boys in any way, this is for entertainment purposes. Viewer discretion is advised!!!

{ ☕️} NOTE - this is in the order of the member’s obtained! thanks for the request, daisy! also, creds for idea goes to @bangtans-apollo!!!

{ 💐} ANON ASKED - ❝ Headcanons on how the fanclub discovered each other and reacted to each other’s obsession for YN? ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍

ah, the melancholic suffering of a lovelorn teenager

how he holds nothing but an eternity in the crevices of his heart

the serene sunlight, words dripped in saccharine, cloyed gestures

nothing hurts more than praying to whatever god truly exists that you’ll return the adoration but finding the fatal fate of no response

and that leaves jin now, seething with envy that could intimidate a pack of wolves

how dare the teacher not pair you up with your soulmate!? it’s just blasphemy!

someone gets to soak in the glitter of your presence, they get to bathe in the rain after a century in sunlight

all while he has to waste precious hours of his time with some plastic nobody

he has to waste time with bland, boring kim taehyung

he’s a dull star amongst a million planets, a saturated wasteland amongst an oasis of color

and how jin’s blood burns seeing that you flash that summer smile to someone who most certainly doesn’t deserve it

ditching the dinner date with his soulmate, jin is forced to work on this godforsaken project with the loner

if only you two had run away when you got the chance, relishing in each other’s warmth as he holds the privilege of looking into your eyes, which he finds resemble dewdrops held upon spider’s silk

that is the honeyed heaven he so badly craves to taste

and as he stumbles around taehyung’s adobe, the curiosity held within jin get’s the best of him as he stumbles into his bedroom

and oh god, what secrets did he uncover

your face, his lover’s face plastered all over the walls and ceiling

some even had his face punctured out of them, some taken without your consent, one’s that jin even took himself

and there’s that one sweater you once ranted to jin how you swore it vanished into thin air, and how he teased that ghost in your attic probably snatched it

if it was physically possible, there’d be steam seeping out of jin’s ears

he clutches his fists so tight, there would most likely be blood drawn; he clenches his teeth so tightly, he fears they might crack under the pressure

but, before jin turns tail, he then sees taehyung as fear swims in his irises

and then jin feels it,

a revelation, an act of generosity

❝ i think you could be useful… ❞

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆

with every breath he takes, there lies humiliation

shame, a ruthless emotion he swore he’d never live to see the depths of

the summer amongst the dark clouds, all lied on a silver platter for your supposed boyfriend to see

but there is kindness in jin’s eyes, a sliver of evil dripped with every word he speaks

and therein, we have witnessed the blooming of the “writing club,” whose only members were lovelorn kids who’ve infatuation got the best of them

with some sugar-laced words, jin had managed to maintain a room for their meetings after school, taehyung quickly ditching his art club for these fleeting moments spent with the man closest to his love

no, taehyung had never been fond of jin, but, holds undying respect for him, anyways

his heaven lies in his words, his sunlight is seen in his eyes, the fate he craves so desperately is clutched in his hands

and it’s only so long before his grip weakens, and taehyung can rob jin of his pleasures in his moment of vulnerability

but, that future must wait as it frolics in the back of taehyung’s head

he must gain the trust of your childhood best friend before he catches his infinity like a firefly in a jar

but, with that being said, taehyung doesn’t mind all the hours he spent huddled in the tree outside your house, hiding behind a canopy of leaves as he admires the dream before him

he’ll sketch your face (which he can now draw from memory) in his notepad, ethereal poetry and doodles held around your sparkling face

he’ll snap a few photos, catching the fireworks and shooting stars in the purity of the fleeting moment

to simply have the privilege to love you silently holds the light of a million stars

oh, how he loves you…

how the earth bruises your cheeks, the moon litters your skin, the stars possess your eyes and the rings of saturn held in your touch

there’s pure bliss within every heartbeat lept

and there’s only so much time before he has you all to himself

he just hopes no burden will stop him from such…

━━━ 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐊𝐎𝐎𝐊

the student’s that litter around these halls resemble parasites

all feeding off the others, annoying them with their deafening disunity, and all trailing behind others like burdens

but, there’s always been that one, that one that stands out like a sore thumb

bland, boring kim taehyung

a boy capable of summoning enough envy and rage within jungkook to crumble planets to nothing but ashes floating throughout the galaxy

how he denies his infatuation for you with red cheeks, but anyone with eyes can see those “adorable” dimples puncture his cheeks whenever he sees you in the halls

how he isn’t burdened by the overwhelming fate of unrequited love, drowning in his jealousy when you simply look at someone else

how he stalks in class you like a hawk would to prey, probably undressing you with his eyes like the freak he is!

how he simply exists, and how it makes jungkook churn with rage

and that leaves him now, dodging students as the race out of the school, hot on the tail of his rival

he must end him before he could potentially hold your heart in his hands

that single idea makes jungkook gag…

he hears taehyung’s voice, shoving a scoff back down his throat that could potentially jeopardize his identity

there’s another voice, too, but, jungkook assumes it’s another one of those art freaks who’s also pretentious with coincidences

then there’s your name, and it would’ve sounded like it was dripped in gold if it didn’t leave the mouth of his sworn enemy

and then he hears of this writing club, and jungkook seethes

these lowlifes get to breathe in the fragrance of those fleeting moments, which is a fate jungkook whose he is well-deserving of, not them

to simply touch the crevices of your soul carved in silk for just a mere second is a privilege

and letting these cretins possess that opportunity is simply unholy

despite holding a burning hatred for the rest of the memories, for you, jungkook would drag himself through the depths of hell

he just prays that the club members don’t pray too far under his skin

he doesn’t know if he can control himself.

━━━ 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍

oh, y/n l/n…

an angel in the purest form, a humid june afternoon

they are a touch softer than autumn’s breeze, their word’s sharper than winter’s embrace, eyes starlit like the dreamy land of springtime, their presence like the bliss of summer and the melancholic longing after it’s demise

they hold within them the entire galaxy and namjoon can’t help but stare

but, there’s another pair of eyes

and they are burning bullet wounds into his soul with a craving to mutilate him swimming in their irises

as the bell rings its tumultuous song and deadbeat kids begin to litter the halls, namjoon is suddenly shoved against the locker by no other than the modern-day jeffrey dahmer

jeon jungkook, dust amongst a field of flowers

his sadistic pleasures and his lust for blood, the holy scent of iron that smoothes out all the creases

❝ if i catch you staring at my Y/N like that again, i’ll tear you apart limb from limb. ‘got it, dipshit? ❞

he is in all means terrifying, but, is nothing but a little boy to namjoon

time has passed, a damn near million tabs are held upon the screen all containing the history of namjoon and his family’s wealth

jin, who had been reported the incident by a fuming jungkook had found an opportunity in the depths of his teenage angst

he’ll feed into namjoon’s desire to touch you across hundreds of separating years

he’ll pray into his craving to kiss you as the naked moon sets for the final time

he’ll reach into his heart and use namjoon for his benefit

and how the rest of the members all fed off of his wealth like parasites

anything their little heart desired, they’d hold in their possession

as much as namjoon longs to deny them pleasure, he had been threatened to lose his place in the club and every inkling of access he has to you if he dared disobey

and namjoon would rather die than lose his love to the eternal night

the strange and enigmatic masterpiece, the ancient moon across a sea of stars

his violet lover has been sawed through by nostalgia, and his infatuation glows harder than a summer sunset

although jin’s intentions have a mile or two to run before they stab him in the back, namjoon still has a clear vision of his goal

and there shall be no burden before he meets his longed fate.

━━━ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊

you, a flower itself, flood his brains like a tsunami to a pitiful city

you, a strawberry in winter, hold sly ways of slithering your way into the recesses of his heart once more

that leaves jung hoseok here, letting the teacher’s words fade to white noise as he doodles your name adorned with hearts on flowers in his notebook

there is distant gossip and whispers that echo from afar, which hoseok picks up due to his childlike curiosity

it begun with useless chitter-chatter, then dissolving to the melodic sound of your name which tumbles from their lips

he listens as the two boys curse the teacher for giving you a D on your exam, them mentioning this supposed ‘club’ that circled everything around you

hoseok was smart, he could raise your grade!

oh, how hoseok would just die to help you with your studies!

with a paradise sparkling in his eyes, he sparks up a conversation with the group, also known as kim namjoon and jeon jungkook

but, the doe-eyed teenager hisses at him, barking at him to ‘keep his fucking mouth shut’

he takes the hint, leaving the conversation with a silent ocean welling up in his eyes

but, this is the embodiment of hope that sits in this dull classroom

he’ll crawl around the corners of his soul till he’s enervate to retrieve what he has longed for

and that leads us up to now, as hoseok stalks to the two from a safe distance, watching as they disappear to the writing club

and just before the door closes, hoseok peeks through the crack of the door and finds the identity of kim seokjin, a boy he’s seen accompany you multiple times

the following day, while the students all stare in confusion for the small boy walking through the halls, hoseok finds him and confronts him

by the look of purified fear, this ‘writing club’ was a hushed secret, and him knowing of this secret was dangerous enough, as it is

after negotiating about how he’d contribute to your satisfaction, jin had no choice but to accept his offer

he doesn’t want this loud-mouthed kid to run up and down the halls preaching about their sins, anyways

the rest of the club members didn’t favor his arrival, all shooting looks of envy and hatred

but, there was no other choice

their fate is written in the stars and complimented with a wax steal upon an envelope.

━━━ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍

opening his locker, jimin finds a taste of eden’s garden as he finds your face strung upon the wall

there’s irises, rivers, fairies, and peaches within the single picture cutout from the yearbook as he sighs dreamily at the sight

his daydream of honeyed days is quickly disrupted as his best friend, hoseok interrupts his thoughts with stars circling in his eyes

before he can find the words to scold him, hoseok begins rambling about this ‘club’ at a rate to fast for jimin to decipher

he hears tales of his dreams, a chance to taste your beauty

this most definitely sparked his undying interest, ushering his best friend to continue with his intentions to get the boy warped in this world

thus, we are taken to the night where the clock reads 3:38 AM in it’s bright, neon hues

the boys would never dream of staying up this late, especially on a tuesday night as the fear for the scolding of their parents’ echos, but, the adrenaline that seeps through their veins serves as a protection

because of the prophecy of this new club, they are rebelling

and as a new day rises and the sun shimmers in all of its celestial beauty, the boys have come up with a plan

every club needs a mission manager!

and who else would be perfect for this job no other than park jimin…? right?

well, let’s just say, despite his unreasonable, childish, and almost dangerous plans, the rest of the boys weren’t happy upon his arrival

the sighs of annoyance to his careless nature, the scoffs of envy when he speaks words of poetry about everything as little as when you made eye contact that one time 2 months ago

jimin’s contribution isn’t favored, but, if it’s for you, all 6 boys are willing to drag themselves through hell and back

every member holds an undying love for the god/goddess themself, all possessing a wild heart that they’d bled dry if you asked

and jimin is just one branch of the group who also holds an intense infatuation

the water to his parched heart, the flowering spring in a winter haze

he has found the sun as it shimmers against the snow

and nothing is as holy as this.

━━━ 𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈

another dull day at the café, yoongi listens to his longing for spring’s voice

his hatred for this place burns bright and softly, as he dwells in the anger held within his small body

the college kids, the early morning joggers, all possessing ways of churning yoongi’s anger, one-by-one

obligated to put on a plastic smile for their sake has wars prancing through his head

but then, there’s you

oh, and those lively eyes he craves to gaze into for eternity and the soft furrow in your brow when you stare at the menu

he is mesmerized and listens to the songs of summer as he drowns in your stare

you haven’t taken notice to the hearts that swirl within his eyes as you order, unfortunately, and therefore leave a boy longing for a taste of the sun

during this fit of a daydream, 6 boys stumble in, all conversing at abnormally obnoxious levels

yoongi has to shove a scoff back down his throat and bring a halt to the urge to roll his eyes and dresses himself in the facade

as they all order and then continue their chatter elsewhere, yoongi can resume his illusions about your sparkled presence

whilst in the process of finishing a cappuccino, he hears the sugary melody of your name

he freezes, then concludes he must be hallucinating, resuming the process of the drink in his hands

after all, spending hours upon hours in this sacred place causes his mind to go hazy at times

the lilied waters of your eyes, skin like roses in the evening

you are so, so very loved by the boy at the café

starting up the hot chocolate with “extra sugar,” he hears it once more

does he need to stretch out his sleeping schedule or was this real?

were they truly speaking of you, or has he truly gone insane in the late afternoon?

peeking over his shoulder, that’s when yoongi sees it

your face was drawn upon a notepad, all fluttered hearts and empty petals around your face

the soul of the planets, the green pigment of the gardens, all held in this stranger’s arms

with determination, yoongi is required to learn more of this guest who spoke hushed tales of you

he’d do anything to know more about the star who enlightens his grey days

and now, the club is complete.

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matth1w · 4 years ago

Text

I Won’t Say - Chapter 1

(Gif Credit)

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary: You and Obi-Wan stand on the edge of something more than friendship. With Anakin in your ear and a special gift from Obi-Wan, will you finally admit your feelings?

Warnings: Typical slow burn angst

Rating: Everyone

Word Count: 2,837 words

Note: I took some liberties and I’m not an expert in Star Wars so apologies in advance if any terminology or anything is incorrect.

For: my dear friend @commander-writergirl’s #800CelebrationChallenge / I chose the song prompt I Won’t Say (I’m In Love) from Hercules

A soft knock on your door stirred you out of the book you had been reading. The climatic scene was unfolding between two classical lovers who were finally professing their undying love for one another. If you couldn’t live out your desires, you could at least read about them.

“Come in!” you announced as you shut the book and shifted in your chair. You knew it could only be a handful of people at this time, even less being so polite as to knock (looking at you, Anakin Skywalker).

You didn’t try to contain the joy on your face when Obi-Wan stepped through the door. You quickly stood and rushed to embrace him. Something you only felt certain enough to do after long or dangerous missions and in private places.

Obi-Wan chuckled underneath your touch as he wrapped one arm around your waist, the sound coming from deep within his chest.

“Careful, my dear.” He murmured in his low comforting voice against your hair.

You pulled back, letting your hand rest on his arm as you examined his face.

“Are you hurt?”

This brought another sparkling laugh from Obi-Wan.

“No, no. I’m perfectly fine.” He explained with a wry smile, “I just didn’t want you to crush your present.”

Your face lit up at the mention of a present and a slight blush rose up your cheeks.

Obi-Wan smiled at you as he moved the arm that was behind his back and held a small potted plant in front of him. It was a trio of small, delicate white flowers adorned with smatterings of blue and purple.

“It’s beautiful!” You whispered in adoration and genuine surprise. You had never seen a flower like it. And it of course meant that much more coming from your favorite Jedi.

Had you not been so enamored by the floral gift, you would have flinched at the electricity that ran through you as your fingers brushed against Obi-Wan’s as you accepted the present.

“Do you like it?” Obi-Wan mused. You looked up at his affectionate eyes that had been examining your reaction and giggled.

“Of course I do!” You admonished, but it was without malice as you truly loved the easy teasing between you two.

Obi-Wan moved to stroke his beard as he nodded, trying to maintain a semblance of control over his facial expressions and busy his hands that yearned to reach out and touch you.

He cleared his throat, trying to rid his head of distracting thoughts.

“It’s a unique thing. It’s called an Evening Primrose. It opens up during the nighttime then shuts when the sun rises.”

You examined the flower curiously, turning it in your hands. You had never heard of such a thing. You wondered for a moment if it had medicinal uses.

“To be quite honest, when I saw it, I couldn’t help but think of you, my little night owl.”

Your head shot up and you were certainly blushing at the nickname. Obi-Wan had never called you anything like that before, and certainly never looked at you with such tenderness either.

You tore your eyes away, looking down to the flower below. And in a desperate attempt to maintain the light atmosphere, rather than delve into anything that could be perilous, you returned once more to light hearted banter.

“Not everyone can be as early a riser like you, Obi-Wan.” Your lips curled into a content, albeit secretly saddened smile and his soon matched yours at the surface.

“But then who would bring you breakfast when you sleep in?” Obi joked back and you had to laugh at that, the tension easing from your body.

“I would say Anakin but I know he struggles as much as I do most days.”

Obi-Wan sighed at that and once again brought his hand to his chin.

“Yes, he’s become much less strict about his morning meditation since he’s become a Knight.”

“It’s not the worst thing in the world.” You chided. “You should try it sometime, you might like it.”

The unintentional double meaning behind your words made Obi’s smile turn upside down for a fraction of a second, it would not have been noticeable if you weren’t so close to him or had known him for so long.

The room became silent for a moment as you struggled with what you should say and Obi-Wan seemed to do the same.

You met his eyes hesitantly and lifted the potted primrose up.

“Thank you for the gift, Obi. It was very thoughtful of you.”

He smiled, that soft, melancholic smile that never reached his eyes that appeared often during moments like this.

“Of course.”, he said quietly, his voice low and weak.

Fearing nothing was left to say than things neither of you were ready to speak aloud, he nodded.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He reached his hand out to rest on your shoulder and smiled more genuinely and lightly this time. The familiar sparkle of lighthearted teasing covering the misery brewing within them.

“I’ll need to get my rest if I’m to wake up before you. Though I suppose it won’t be too hard.”

He tauntingly grinned at you and you rolled your eyes, trying to focus on anything but his light touch and the unspoken words and emotions that desperately tried to surface around you.

“Goodnight, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan nodded with a gentlemanly smile and bowed before he turned on his feet and exited your room.

In the quiet air, your fingers caressed the smooth terra-cotta underneath them as you brought the flower up to your nose to take in its sweet aroma.

—————

The soft chimes of your alarm stirred you from your slumber. It had been peaceful and calm night of rest, taking away your worries and repeating thoughts and replacing them with lovers dreams.

You shifted onto your side, admiring the now closed flowers. They were a beautiful sight to behold, even now, and one you could get used to seeing each time you opened your eyes.

Your heart pained at how you would much rather see a different view each morning, a pair of light blue eyes, but you fervently pushed the image away.

—————

Today had been a slow day in the medical bay, the hours crept on like thick mud. Thankfully, the evening and end of your shift were finally arriving as you thrummed your fingers on the table beside you. You had finished your rounds on the longer term patients and just finished typing up your last report on your datapad.

You heard one of your coworkers call your name. They didn’t sound panicked, moreso tired and annoyed so you didn’t worry but walked their way nonetheless.

When you reach the front of the wing, you saw Anakin standing with a mischievous smile alongside your much less energized coworker.

A slight tinge of pity hit you, Denoto, the veteran medical assistant had been there for nearly 12 hours today. You glanced at your watch to check the time. There were only a few minutes left in your shifts and the new wave had already arrived.

“You can go, Denoto,” you notified him with a smile that hopefully had seemed compassionate. You two didn’t much get along and you knew he envied your position as Head Medic.

The man gave a curt nod in response and walked past Anakin without a second look.

You rolled your eyes at the grumpy old man with Anakin and turned around.

“Come on,” you waved him back and heard him quickly follow, his boots sharp on the hardened floor.

Anakin cleared his throat as he caught up to walk in line with you.

“I got a bit scratched up on our mission. I think it’s fine...” his voice lowered as he leaned in with a sly smile, “but Padme insisted you check it.”

You smiled back, “She’s typically right. Let me see.” You had reached your destination and patted the bed beside you for him to hop up on.

He lifted his sleeve to reveal a minor wound on his shoulder. It was nothing to be worried about, but it could use some cleaning as it looked like it hadn’t been cleaned properly.

It wouldn’t surprise you, Anakin was reckless and once countered your reprimands with the claim that if he tended to his own wounds, you wouldn’t get to see him as often.

You settled into the familiar process and Anakin leaned back and closed his eyes. You didn’t mind, the silence was comfortable due to your strong friendship.

“So,” his voice broke the silence, mischief apparent in the one word alone.

You looked up to see him looking at you with those interrogating eyes and you turned around to pull out a bacta pad from the drawer behind you. You had a feeling you knew what he wanted to talk about.

“Did Obi-Wan give you your gift?” His voice was playful and teasing, like only a best friend’s could.

You blushed as you turned back around, even though you willed your face and emotions to stay neutral and didn’t meet his eyes, though you could feel them practically burning a hole in you.

He chuckled, “I take that as a yes.”

Your eyes flitted to his momentarily then back at the wound. You knew Anakin wouldn’t leave well enough alone so you gave in with a sigh.

“Yes he did. I assume you had a role in it?”

You poked him with your finger, outside his wound but he still flinched as it tickled him slightly, a satisfied smile blossoming on your lips.

His signature troublemaker smile came back slowly, like he was relishing in the moment.

“Actually, no. The first I knew of it was when we were boarding the ship back.”

You blushed at that. It was harder to dismiss the gift as simply your friend’s meddling if he had no part in it.

You silently took off your gloves, standing to dispose of them in the bin, and patted Anakin’s covered shoulder. You didn’t want to think too much about it. And certainly didn’t want to hear any more of Anakin’s thoughts on the matter.

“Just a small infection.” You were pleased with the neutrality of your voice.

“Come back tomorrow to get fresh gauze. But otherwise, no one needs to worry about you.” Your voice and eyes softened as you finished.

He smiled gratefully, thankful for your abilities and confidence.

“Thank you.”

Anakin took your hand and looked seriously at you a moment before speaking in a hushed tone.

“Obi-Wan cares about you, you know.”

“Of course he does,” you sighed as you softly pulled your hand away and fidgeted with the roll of gauze you were packing away. “But no more than he cares about you or Ashoka. He probably is only kind because I tend to his injuries and don’t get all starry eyed around him or the other Jedi.”

“But...” he interjected.

“He’s a friend, Anakin. Nothing more.” Your voice grew stronger, more stubborn.

“Not like you...” you lowered your voice before your continued. “... and Padme.”

Anakin shook his head in exasperation and scoffed quietly.

“Whatever you say, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

His playful smile returned and you knew there were no hard feelings between you two.

“You better!” You chastised as you playfully swatted him.

A laugh is shared between you two before Anakin bows out and you’re left with your own spiraling thoughts, trying to decipher the meaning of Obi-Wan’s gift.

—————

You had tried to sleep, a bit earlier than usual but you couldn’t stop admiring the primrose on the windowsill. One of your perks of your role as head medic was that you had a corner room that was tucked away down a long hall and had a small window.

The flowers nearly glowed in the soft moonlight, and you couldn’t help but be taken with the beautiful, unique flowers. But also, more truly, what they represented.

A gift from Obi-Wan.

It wasn’t the first but certainly the most thoughtful, more-so now that you knew he brought it to you without any heavy-handed suggestion from Anakin.

You had to admit you were a bit disappointed that you hadn’t seen him today. You cursed yourself for the silly notion. You had just seen him yesterday. Although, it had been brief, and you wanted to hear more about his mission.

Yes, that was why you were disappointed. You wanted to hear about the mission. You laughed bitterly at the lie you were telling yourself and pictured Anakin calling you out on it if he was here.

A bit frustrated and knowing sleep wouldn’t come to you just yet, you sighed and swung your legs over the side of the bed. You stared at the flower a few minutes more before you decided to stretch your legs.

You didn’t know much about how to care for the flower but you thought the soil could give you a clue. Shuffling over to the pot, you determined it was watered enough. But the shine of the flower entranced you once more and you allowed yourself to daydream for just a moment.

You imagined planting it in the small garden in your backyard. You would tend to it and the other flowers and plants while Obi-Wan sat by the small pond meditating or reading.

You two would share lunches outside in the garden when the weather permitted and there would be a bench upon which you both could sit. And as the moon rose and the primrose bloomed, you would admire the stars, Obi pointing out which planets were which and telling you stories about the ones he had visited.

You blinked, the yearning pain in your heart bringing you back to reality. You felt incredibly foolish. Not only because Obi-Wan would never leave the Order for you but also because you knew that dreams that felt so good when they start out would eventually twist into nightmares and you would end up crying your heart out once more.

You had thought about sharing that ideal life with another a long time ago, when you had just finished your training and were stationed at a small hospital. He had been a kind man, another medic who had been on a different team but would always come around for talk whenever your schedules allowed. He was in a terrible accident one day and you stayed by his side through it all.

You scoffed internally as anger bubbled inside you, if there was a prize for rotten judgment, you would’ve won it. He played you like a fool. Once he was healed and regained his life, he left you, cold and alone for another.

You swore off love for a long time, determined that no man was worth the aggravation, the heartache, or time.

But then you became a medic here. And you met Obi-Wan. How twisted of fate to make you open your heart again for someone who could never truly be yours.

Who do you think you’re kidding? He’s the earth and heaven to you. No matter how hard you tried keep it hidden or conceal it, it was plain as day, you were in love. Anakin assured you as much. And mind reading or not, you were certain Obi-Wan himself knew.

You sighed, you hated acknowledging the truth of your feelings, and that... you loved him. But you would never speak it aloud. Not even in the confines of your room, alone and hidden in the darkness.

Plus, you thought your heart had learned its lesson. Your head was screaming for you to get a grip, reminding you of how you had cried your heart out for weeks over failed love before.

This back and forth was so tiring. You should just face it like a grown woman. Tell Obi-Wan your feelings and then leave if, no when, he says it can’t be.

No chance or way you’re doing that. Throwing out your career and friendships. You won’t say it. You can’t say it.

But your heart tempted you with images about how things could end up if you gave up and gave into your feelings. You stopped yourself as much as it hurt, that scene won’t play.

You imagined if Anakin and Padme were here now as your heart and mind fight amongst themselves.

They would say you’re in love, you’d tell them they’re way off base and try to get them off your case, but in turn they’d just tell you you don’t need to be proud, that it’s okay you’re in love. You smiled at the antics you were sure would happen.

A strong wave of sleep washed over you as you made your way back to your bed. You happily gave in as you laid your blanket atop your body, hoping to at least live out your fantasy in your dreams.

As you drifted to sleep, you promised yourself something.

You wouldn’t say you were in love...

At least out loud.

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