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taeescript · 3 years ago

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29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader)

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!)

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (: 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it

part one || part three

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

“So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

You tip the shot back with no chase.

“You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

“It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

“You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

“I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

“And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

“Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

“I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

“You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

You shake your head.

“Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

“What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

“Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

“No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

“Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

“God help me.”

The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point. ��

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

“She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

He offers you his water to drink.

“I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

“Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

“We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

“Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

“It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

“Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

“Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

“Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

Seokjin blinks to refocus.

“The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

“Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

“The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

Junho grumbles something intelligible.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

“It’s been going...”

Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

10:18pm “Real good**”

Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

“Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

“It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

A moment of silence.

10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

“What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

...

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter “T”.

You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

“Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

“I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

“Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

...

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

“You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

“Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

“He’s my best friend.”

“Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself,

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

“You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

“You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

...

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ”

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

“No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

“You suck at metaphors.”

You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

“As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

“No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

“Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

“Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

“My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

“Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

“Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

“I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

“So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

“Please stop reminding me.”

“Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

“Um… I, uh…”

“What?”

You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back.

“I’ve got plans tonight.”

“Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

“Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

“He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

“He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

“Sorry again,” you apologize.

“Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

...

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

“You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

“The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

“Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

“Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

“Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

“No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

“Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

“Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

“You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

“I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

“You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

...

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

“He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

“A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

The lady lays a hand on your arm. “I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

Smiling, you type in your response.

12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

“Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

“You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

“How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

“You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

“Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

“Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

“Are you a secret alcoholic?”

You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

“It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

“Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

“Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room.

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

...

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

“This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

“Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

He smirks from the spot.

You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

“You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

“Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

“It’s still a stupid last name.”

“It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

“Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

“Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

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writer-panda · 4 years ago

Text

The Hit on the Groom and What Became of It - Chapter 4/I’ll never let you down (in an open casket)

Chapter 1 -|- Previous -|- Next

The Hit on the Groom and What Became of It - Chapter 4/I’ll never let you down (in an open casket)

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As she hanged up, Marinette rushed to the doors and let her mother in. The previous night she spent mostly on working with Kwamis to prepare. Most were in agreement that she needed to act and not leave her kitty’s fate to chance. Tikki protested for a bit, but in the end, she saw that there was no changing Marinette’s mind and joined in on scheming. Except she had no way of tracking Adrien. Not… until she received the call!

Except now her mother entered. Sabine greeted her daughter by giving her a bone-crushing hug.

“I was so worried! When the police called I couldn’t just sit there and wait!”

“Maman. It’s alright. I’m okay. See?” The girl did break away from the hug and smiled.

“I know. But I couldn’t help but worry.”

“Maman… Adrien’s been kidnapped.”

“I know.” Her mother’s expression didn’t reveal any emotions now.

“I… he’s been miserable ever since that wedding mess, and now this.”

“I know.” Again, nothing.

“He’s my friend.”

“Not the love of your life?” Sabine questioned with a bit of amusement in her voice.

“No. He doesn’t need another fangirl. He needs a friend. Someone who can support him. I… I wasn’t a good friend before this…” She didn’t reveal that she wasn’t a great partner either. Chat hid things well, but from time to time his shell cracked. She should’ve seen the signs. She could’ve done something. Or at least do something with Lila. She had connections and Lila deserved a lawsuit or five.

“Oh, sweety. You were a great friend. You are a great friend. I’m happy to see you’re not about to chase after some misguided love, but after friendship.”

“I know I’m only… wait, what?” Marinette.exe stopped working. If the problem keeps repeating itself, please contact customer service or the nearest Kwami.

“When I was fifteen, I dropped out of… school to explore the world on my own. It wasn’t until a few years later that I met your father.” Sabine said in a bit dreamy voice like she was reminiscing. “We had several adventures across Europe before finally settling down in Paris.”

“But… Papa’s a baker.” Marinette protested. “I thought he was always a baker, like his father.”

In response, her mother chuckled. “No. Your father had much more in common with your Nona than with his father. I met him when he was fighting in an underground cage-fighting club.”

“Whoa…” Marinette’s eyes widened. That was a story she never heard before. “So how did you two got together?”

“I will tell you some other time. The point is, I know that even if I took you to Paris with me, you would’ve run away to look for your friend.”

“Maman!” For a moment, the girl wanted to protest. But then she decided that there was no point. “Yes… you’re right. But I can’t just let it happen! If the police find him, he will end up back with his father!”

“I know. And what’ll you do about it?” Her mother had this mysterious smirk on her face.

“I guess… I need to be the one to find him. I will get him situated somewhere safe. Maybe stay with him for a bit. He’s smart. And a quick learner.” He mastered being a superhero faster than I did.

“Good. Then you have my blessing.”

“I can’t just abandon-” Marinette.exe stopped working again. Contacting the customer service might be in order. Technically, Sabine kept hinting about it. Practically, Marinette would miss a clue even if she was holding a gun to its head. “I have your what now?”

“You can go. Save him. Find yourself. And maybe kick some asses while you’re at it.”

“Most parents would be worried sick about their not-yet-adult children running off to an adventure.”

“You wanted to know how I met your father. The answer is I was the first to beat him in that cage.” Sabine’s smirk was replaced with a serious expression. “Of course I will worry, sweety. I’m your mother. But holding you back now will not help you. You’re a strong young woman and to be fair, I’m not sure how we could hold you down. You have steady access to the rooftop and two years of parkour training.”

“What now?”

“Did you honestly think we wouldn’t notice you sneaking off through the balcony?”

“And you didn’t even tell me?”

“It would be hypocritical of us.” Sabine defended. “And if the worse came to happen, I had several… souvenirs from our travel around the world.”

“Thank you, Maman. I promise I will come back; And call you often. Well, maybe not too often.” Marinette already dashed to start packing.

“Of course you will. And don’t get into too much trouble. I would hate to have to go and find you.” Sabine threatened with a bright smile on her face.

“I’ll try, Maman.” The girl was only half-listening now. She couldn’t waste any more time. She learned how to trace the call about one-and-a-half years ago when she was still a bit ‘stalker-ish’.

Sabine watched her daughter with amusement. So many memories returned to her now. Youth mostly well-spent if someone asked her. The ‘mostly’ part came to bite her just that moment as her phone pinged. She quickly checked the message and frowned.

“I’m sorry, my little cupcake, but I need to go check it. An old friend turns out to be in town.”

“I’ll call you later!” Marinette called from where she was furiously working on her laptop.

When Sabine left, the kwamis swarmed her immediately.

“Your mom is so cool!” one of them cooed.

“And she’s one bad-”

“Roaar!” Tikki scolded the tiger kwami.

“What’s the plan, pigtails?”

“Adrien’s call was made from within Gotham City. He’s still here for now. I also managed to track him to Burnley.”

“Didn’t that mercenary you called mention some Lawton?” Trixx offered.

“Yeah. I did try to search him up, but the only one with that name that I managed to find is Zoe Lawton. Wait. There is more!” She beamed up. “An old article in some Mexican newspaper.” She clicked on the link and read it aloud for her co-conspirators “Floyd Lawton, also known as Deadshot, was recently arrested after an assassination of a small group of smugglers. It is yet unknown if it was a hit or was it personal.” The article went on, but there was nothing more of interest.

“So the guy’s a mercenary too? That’s good. He’ll bring Adrien to you.”

“Not so fast. I remember hearing about him. Deadshot is one of the few mercenaries who try to keep some resemblance of a code. He’s also noted to be soft around children.”

“Isn’t Adrien almost an adult though?” Kaalki asked rather uncaring.

“Have you met the guy? He’s a literal ray of sunshine!” Plagg protested.

“So… he won’t deliver him and won’t return him.” Seeing that some Kwamis didn’t understand her logic, she clarified, “I don’t think that if he learns how Gabe treated his son he will be in any hurry to return him.”

“That makes sense.” The little being all nodded in agreement.

“So what’s the alternative?”

“He could adopt him,” Ziggy suggested.

“Please.” Marinette dismissed the idea. “He’s not Bruce Wayne.”

“He could smuggle him out of the country.”

“No. Everyone’s looking for him.” Roaar countered. “He would try to lay low somewhere.”

“Burley is large and full of potential safe houses.” Marinette started to think. “But there is also a large concentration of organized crime. Alone, we would have a hard time, but if we got them to help…”

“Is it wise to involve more criminals into your schemes Marinette?” Tikki asked skeptically.

“Don’t worry, sugarcube. To catch a bird you need wings. To catch a criminal you need crime.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.”

“What’s the worse that could happen? I will go there as Seamstress. I won’t even appear in person. Right, Trixx?”

“You can count on it.” The fox kwami grinned.

“But… but…” Tikki wanted to scream her head off. Why did the previous guardian choose a juvenile criminal for her holder. Marinette used to be such a sweet girl. Where did Tikki go wrong?

---------

It was dark when an eerie mist filled one of the less-than-legal clubs in Burnley. From among the smoke, a figure entered. She was wearing a godet-type black dress with a side-cut that reached to her belt. The dress was overlayed with a very visible deep-blue corset that pronounced her blue eyes. It had some intricate laces on it. She also wore a puffy-sleeved blazer (also black, but with a dark blue finish) with large and very pronounced cuffs. Around her neck was a white double jabot fixed to a choker with a large black gem surrounded by diamonds. Her long deep-blue hair was let loose and hung over her shoulder. A simple black-and-white domino mask hid her features.

As she marched, one of her legs shifted the fabric to reveal she was wearing dark-blue socks reaching above her knee and black leather boots. A knife was strapped to the right one and several leather strips around her thigh and knee suggested she had more weapons on her.

One of the men whistled.

“Looks like the entertainment arrived, boys!” Several cheered at that shout. At least until the man who dared to say it ended pinned to a wall with a rather large needle holding his jacket in place. It was also uncomfortably close to his jugular.

“I’m not entertainment.” The Seamstress hissed.

“Then you’re not invited.” Several men got up, many were holding now-empty bottled which they turned into impromptu weapons.

“You will help me find what was taken from me.” She demanded.

“Yeah? Or?” One of the men laughed before charging at her.

What followed next was perhaps the strangest carnage Gotham City has seen in years. The Seamstress danced between the attacks with almost unnatural grace and agility while stabbing the attackers in various places with large needles. None of the hits were life-threatening and most would heal within hours. The wounds were meant to incapacitate with minimal long-term damage.

By the time she reached the far end of the bar, almost every man was laid out on the ground groaning in pain or scrambling in fear.

“I am not asking. You will be rewarded for your obedience.” She then disappeared into the back alley. One brave/foolish enough who still had some fight left rushed after her, only to find the place completely empty.

On the rooftop, Marinette let out her breath. She didn’t use any miraculous for that one, but she kept Plagg’s ring on. Chat Noir wasn’t seen in some time, so it would’ve been easier to explain that the ring was stolen by a criminal. She would really need to thank her mother for all the training she forced on her ever since the Akumas started to appear, as well as the lessons during her childhood. Those were all only the most basic grunts tonight, but she got their attention. One of them would run to their boss. There, she could actually do what she planned.

--------

Just like she predicted, some of the less injured guys left the bar in hurry and drove their bikes to another part of the district. They disappeared into a three-story building. The windows were boarded, but some light seeped through on the top floor, so that is where she climbed. Indeed, by hanging on the edge of the window sill, she was able to hear the panicked screams inside.

“...and then she just disappeared! It was like that damn Bat, only much more terrifying. She was so small, and yet there was this… this… aura of power.”

Thank you Chloe for being queen B. Marinette stifled a laugh. Mimicking Chloe was the right choice.

“Probably another one of his useless brats.” The boss dismissed them. Marinette decided that it would make the best impression if she contradicted him right now.

She wondered for a moment how to enter the armored building. She could rip the boards away and enter that way, but she was aiming for ethereal, not brute. In the end, she pulled a pair of glasses and put them over her mask.

“Kaalki. Would you please help me break into headquarters of a criminal organization to scare them into serving me?”

“How many sugar cubes is it worth?”

“Ten. No more, no less.” Marinette had a small window of opportunity.

“You’ve got a deal.”

“Kaalki! Full gallop!” The light enveloped Marinette. When it died down, she was still in her outfit, only now the blue accents were brown instead. The gem on her neck held the symbol of a horse miraculous. “I love magical clothes. So easy to maintain the image.” Marinette muttered before a blue portal opened before her and she entered.

Inside, the five men (two who came to report, the boss, and his two guards) watched as the blue portal opened before them. The mist started to pour through it as well as through the boarded window. A figure calmly stepped inside.

“I didn’t expect the Gotham criminal organizations to be so… cliche.” She commented. Two needles sailed through the air and pinned the guards to the wall. Her horseshoe weapon waited patiently on her back should she need to use it.

“Who… who’re you?”

“Me? Oh. I’m The Seamstress. I had business in Gotham, but a fool dared to double-cross me. I need to find him.”

“Why… W-why shou-should w-we help… help you?” One of the guys from the bar asked.

“Oh. I’m not asking. I’m telling you that you’ll help me.” She informed. “I’m about to make you an offer you shouldn’t refuse.”

The boss was now shaking. Damn city with its damn overpowered supervillains. They think they can simply run things as they want. First Red Hood took out most of the top brass of the underworld and then this? Working on his father’s farm was sounding more and more appealing. Then there was the shouldn’t. The reference to the classic movie was not lost, but she said shouldn’t. Not can’t. Once more he remembered how Red Hood took over. Submit, or die. This was the same. She clearly wouldn’t hesitate. He liked to think he could see those things.

“I’m waiting.” The lady growled. “I’m not used to waiting.” Channeling Chloe is actually fun here.

“Fine. You can have my seat. I’m going back to dad’s farm. Just let me go and you can have them.” The boss stood from his seat and motioned for her.

Marinette.exe is not responding. Do you want to execute the process? Not yet.

She managed to keep enough cool to smile and take the seat, although she didn’t even register what was that.

She would panic later. For now, tracking Adrien. “I need to find where Floyd Lawton, also called Deadshot, is hiding with my… asset.”

“It… I will see to it, Boss… lady.” One of the guys from the bar nodded very fast before rushing out of the room.

“I… will bring you the list of current assets.” One of the guards informed and walked somewhere. They were used to aggressive takeovers. This was their third. Boss change, guards remain. This was honestly the first time the previous boss managed to escape with his life.

Meanwhile, Marinette finally realized what just happened. She really wanted to hit her head on the desk, but she was too afraid to show any signs of weakness. Why did she end up in this mess again?

----------

Sabine Cheng was waiting for her plane back when an airport guard approached her.

“Lady Cheng?” Sabine’s blood froze for a moment, but she refused to show any outward reaction at her past codename. “There is a man who wishes to discuss some… past debts.”

Damn it. And here she thought that bald bastard would forget about her. He had several more suitable people. He knew the risks of angering her.

Then again, she knew not to anger him either.

“Lead the way.” Her face was stone cold as she stood up.

Inside a comfortable private lodge sat a blad man in a suit more expensive than the yearly revenue of her bakery.

“Ah… Lady Cheng. I’m so happy you could’ve joined us.”

Sabine looked around and noticed that there was another man there, standing slightly in the shadows. A man she came to despise just as much as Luthor. Standing there was Gabriel Agreste.

“I can’t return the pleasure, Luthor.” She snarled, not letting her gaze drop from Agreste.

“Figured you’d say that.” The billionaire laughed. “But it doesn’t change that you came.”

“Be quick. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“About that.” Lex smiled. “I’m afraid you won’t be on that plane. I need you to do something for me.”

“Sadly, my calendar is full for the foreseeable future.” She retorted coldly.

“Then you will clean it. Unless that is, you want me to tell my good friend the president about your little assignment for me twenty years ago. If I recall, your pardon didn’t cover that particular crime.” The man chuckled.

The only upside of this whole situation to Sabine was that Agreste finally realized exactly who she was. Or at least how dangerous she was. The deal she made ensured that Lady Cheng disappeared from everywhere but some people’s memory. To her dismay, Lex didn’t forget. And he still had that damning evidence.

She also knew exactly what was the job.

“I don’t do jobs involving kids, Luthor.” She seethed through gritted teeth. It wouldn’t matter, but she hoped it would at least give him a pause.

“Adrien Agreste was about to be married. I think that can calm your conscience. He was all but adult.” That despicable man dismissed her concern, as she predicted.

“I’m a little rusty. Don’t you have someone younger? Someone who would actually want to do this?” Sabine deadpanned. She kept true to the deal she made for her and her husband’s pardon and didn’t do any… extracurricular work.

“Alas, the fact you’re unwilling is why I need you. You see, the client, whoever they are, picked Agreste Jr. as a target in a… battle royale of sorts. It quickly stopped being about the ludicrous money reward. It’s now about proving who’s the best. And they won’t stop until they deliver him to that mysterious Seamstress.”

“So what do you want? I’m sure you could’ve bought some of them to drop the glory part.” She really didn’t want to do this.

“I offered to pay five times the price, but most of the competent ones want a shot at whatever that job is. A mysterious benefactor with no history, nonexistent in any database in the world, paying a small fortune for a simple job and offering further work? Doesn’t it sound familiar?” Lex reclined in his chair and smiled.

“One job only. I want everything you have on me. And ten times the bounty.” She noted his discomfort. “Don’t give me that look, Luthor. You can afford it. My daughter’s about to start a university.” Sabine turned to Gabriel. “I must thank you for the idea. Homeschooling really helps when one is gifted.”

“I’m sure we can come to an agreement,” Lex grumbled. If he didn’t know the quality of her works, he would’ve laughed at the price. Except he foolishly revealed that he was desperate.

“Oh, I’m sure we can.” Sabine smiled. She was like a cat that just caught a mouse.

#maribat #miraculous #ladybug #miraculous ladybug #mlb #mlb x dc #dc #DC comics #dcu #batman #Hit on the groom

86 notes · View notes

avalcnrp · 3 years ago

Photo

NAME. Iseult of the Red Hands AGE & BIRTH DATE. 35 & February 11th, 755 CE GENDER & PRONOUNS. Non-binary & He/they RACE & CLASS. Halfblooded ( Regenerative Healing ) OCCUPATION. Sellsword FACE CLAIM. Mahesh Jadu

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: abuse, violence, murder, prostitution )

I. THE QUESTION

Iseult, when asked, will say he was born from the sea. If you squint, you can nearly see it—hair like the lapping harbor, eyes lucid as abalone, teeth bared in pearly grin, heart just as blustery and wont to dash ships to pieces. However enigmatic a story it is, the bone of truth to it is this: the sea would not have him, and in her rejection he was born anew.

Their given name was lost to the foam, but they were born to the winter’s frosts. Raised by a hardworking mother in the tall-masted shadows of passing ships, one of which she swore would carry his faceless father back to them in a ritual that repeated each evening: her callused hands tucking the corners of a threadbare quilt beneath him, her voice low and like molasses, and a mythic ship that never came. The stories she parted with were vague. Only that he came from another land. Only that it was no fault of theirs he’d had to leave them behind in this one. When the youth was nine, she settled for a Camelot-bound brigantine. Mother and child stowed away in the merchant’s orlop in search of better prospects, soon to find the impetuous whims of the captain to be the arbiter of their fate. The ship had been set to sea for days by the time their presence was discovered.

There’d be no turning back to lose them at the nearest dock, a thrown schedule on such a ship was a femoral wound: they’d hemorrhage far more coin than two lives’ worth. Their trial was brief, the Captain’s claim was absolute: “to the sea, or to work for me.” So mother and son become cabin maid and swab—became consort and rat catcher. Became whatever they had to be to survive. They toiled for their safe passage until the long journey ahead fell short for his mother. “Infection came quick,” the surgeon broke the news to the youth before the captain’s cracked door. “At sea, sickness makes mincemeat of even the strongest men,” and while by nine the youth had seen so much, he’d never seen a sickness that purpled the throat.

Without her fearsome hand to guard him, the next slip up before the officers landed him at the ship’s rail again, the Captain’s hand snared in his collar. To the sea, or to work for me, became “to the sea, or your chances with me.” The youth was spared the decision, chance made it for him. The Captain produced a coin and flipped it, and he watched as it turned in the air between them, revolving thrice in those breathless, fear-strung moments, before turning up a Pendragon’s face. A benign, gilded face that imprints his memories still. But for now, the odds were not in his favor, no matter how he willed them to be. Maybe it was always up to the whims of chance and fate. Or maybe only this Captain, with his kingdom of groaning timbers. There was the brigantine, and now there was only the sea, the open sea.

Years later, a knife in his neck, Iseult would wonder if this survival was the first evidence of his halfblooded nature. Another one of fortune’s many jests. But back then, the longshoremen of the harbor that hauled him up in their net that day, dripping the salt of Camelot’s coast, chalked it up to impossible luck. To one of fortune’s many blessings.

II. THE ECHO

When he stopped retching seaweed, the harbormen brought the youth (of all places) to the town square’s brothel. The very nearest place with a spare bed, hot bowl of soup, and hosts willing to take in another mouth to feed. Through them, Iseult came to know the nooks and crannies of the world oft took shape around a certain closeness. The grand dame of the house turned out a far more hospitable guardian, and far more reluctant to have him swallowed by the sea. It was there, in the hearth-warmed corners of the kingdom’s underbelly, in the arms of their loud and vibrant leaning buildings, that the youth earned his keep. Earned a name, too. Iseult. “It means icy battle, for that chill in his eye!” The elder cook had argued. “No, it’s one who watches,” volleyed the counter girl, “for that owlish look he’s always got.” “Or iron ruler!” for the wise counsel he provided the women as he swept the brothel floors: “no, that colour pales you terribly. Yes, I think the lace is nice.” In the end, the only thing they could agree on was that the youth be named for a beauty: “noble in heart as in hair!” cackled the madame as she braided theirs back.

For women forged of mettle and iron and a youth brined by the sea, it was a home. They say it takes a village, and this would have to do: with heaping servings of stew, a bed, and plenty of work to earn his bowl, Iseult grew and grew quickly. Their broom was traded for bruised knuckles, as was the street’s way. Their familiarity to its denizens and the grand dame’s word their ticket, they made quick work of establishing a name as a sellsword. A quick study, bruiser work for the brothel evolved into contracts throughout Camelot’s underbelly. The grand dame only needed to point them in a direction: Iseult would be their own star to steer by. No captain nor deity could sway him (but a melodic pouch of coin never hurt). As for the bloodier bounty hunting, Iseult fell into it the way one falls asleep. One evening the grand dame called them back for another turn ‘round the home front. A Captain on shore leave had overstepped his place in her establishment, and so invited the madam’s merciless grudge. In Iseult’s pursuit, the trail grew warm then searing. It was none other than the man from their memories once more come home to harbor. It would be his last time. Iseult would make sure of that.

The encounter unfolded in the earliest hours, on a balcony by the shipyard. Iseult, the youth he once was stirred to a fury within, drew it out. In his wont to make the man suffer he became careless and was run through the throat with a dagger: pitched half over the rail and eyes affixed to the waters below as he bled. Only, he would not stay that way. The marionette and the invisible hand, Iseult wound back upright and sprang upon the captain, switching their places and forcing his back to the railing. The sellsword reeled a single, gilded coin from a breast pocket, its weight tantalizing in his palm. “To the sea,” he rasped, “or your chances with me.” The coin turned thrice, and a Pendragon’s gilded face turned heavenward.

Iseult cleaned the knife that’d struck his neck, sheathed it in the tyrant’s, and watched as the sea swallowed the last of him whole.

III. THE ANSWER.

When blood stains you it leaves an imprint long after the wash. There was no going back, and where remorse might live, Iseult found only hunger. Found only the outline of the brothel slouching in the city’s dark, windows yellow with warmth. Found only the underbelly, and the comfort in its litany of lives. He would make a name for himself there. And, turning the mystery of that night on the balcony over and over in his mind, fingers ghosting his own throat for imagined scars, he’d take it on faith that wounds would not find him here for long. Not yet. While the heavens, while whatever magic protected him, may well have something to say for it, he put his faith in something lower: the hand with which he wields his blade. It’s all the thrill of profiteering, when the bottom falls out and you’ve not even your skin to lose. The ‘why’ of it he buried deep for the duration. Drowned in debauchery, drowned in drink, drowned in card games and bets on losing dogs (for certainty is a comfort seldom afforded). In his youth, Camelot was an elusive land of promise, the way his mother’s words had painted it. A gilded expanse whose gates were long closed to them. Now it would be his lion’s den, and its underbelly would bestow him a fitting title. A name passed ‘round in fascinated whispers: Iseult of the Red Hands.

It would be such for some time, and each flirtation with Death would only deepen the affair. In the ensuing blur, Iseult would come to know how fish felt on the fillet block. Would come to recognize the subtle notes of poison by taste. Would come to know the thundering of hooves not just by their percussive roar but by the imprint of their shoes. He’s sure he can die as any mortal when the sword swings swift and true, but there’s no denying the extent of punishment his body can take. The speed with which it stitches itself back together. Where his line of work is concerned: such a talent is worth much more than his weight in gold. He keeps it close to his chest. God knows what the more enterprising would do with it.

Where life had sharpened his senses on its cruel and comic whetstone; the countless brushes with death would start to dull them, would whittle his edges until he barely recognized them at all. The magic that keeps him upright had a whittler’s touch too: the why of it, in time, would hollow him. He’d only ever thought himself human, and his mothers tales of the Otherworld just that: wishful thinking for the sort of journeys only the worthy have. Now, he thinks of it at the brothel’s corner table, taking supper with the aging cook. He thinks of it in line at the Bakery to buy his bread. While dealing in coin in the Town Square. He thinks of it in all the places where time marches forward. Is he human? Is he something less, or more?

Perhaps that’s why Camelot is where it must come to a head — laden with human and fey tension, Iseult swears it must be the one place where time’s march stops. This place that remade him, that sits so closely to the doors to the Otherworld, feels like an undeath in itself; and a recent summons from the knights of the round, to serve as a liaison and informant from the kingdom’s underbelly, even more so. Not to mention, the long, listless hours working contracts for nobles shying from their own dirty work. It’s been years since a coin flip could decide his fate, and years since his own hand could. So here, yes here, he turns the coin of his thoughts just as feverishly as the one in his hands. Here, he’ll swear on whatever life he must to find his answer: what am I? And if the answer is a creature of scorn, then why, Titania, why?

PERSONALITY

+ versatile, inquisitive, droll – insatiable, capricious, vindictive

PLAYED BY ISHMAEL. They/Them.

#taken #nonbinary #halfblooded #mahesh jadu #iseult of the red hands

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midnight-hotel · 5 years ago

Note

I was thinking of a Alastor x Reader , where the reader is a fallen angel, and was given up by god, so now that she is in Hell she doesn't know where to go. You can do whatever you want from this, impress me

//Well, I impressed myself so I hope I’ve impressed you too!

Everyone had heard of God’s new plan. It was the biggest thing to happen in Heaven since the day word spread about the ‘Happy Hotel’ down in Hell. A rehabilitation centre for sinners wasn’t such a bad idea thanks to the population issue down there but it was also a ridiculous notion because, well… souls were sent down there for a reason. Now, you had never been human, so you were no expert on whether or not demons deserved a second chance, but unlike the princess of hell, you’d been given the chance to observe the behaviour of human beings and had yet to form an opinion on the matter. Not a proper one at least. However, you did not see demon’s worth so much as to have God banish an angel down to hell for all eternity to see if they can make any impact. It would be one thing to just send an angel down there, but it had been made clear that they needed someone expendable. An angel they could afford to lose should they be killed down there in hell.

That hardly sit well in your stomach and when you saw the arch angel Michael fly into the city centre with news of who would be sent down to hell, you spread your wings and took off to get closer. Whose life were they about to ruin? Angels all around you murmured softly between each other, watching closely as Michael gazed around as if looking for the ‘chosen one’. Everyone waited with bated breath until a name was finally uttered from the Angel’s plump lips.

“Amethyst Hearth.”

The name almost seemed to echo despite the softness of his strong voice and within moments, the crowd parted to show the young angel, a woman who had hardly been in heaven three years. From what you had head, she had been a single, teen mother. A young girl who had been taken advantage of in her youth but did her best to make a decent life for herself and her child. Unfortunately, she died in an accident of some sort.

“N-No! No, please, I couldn’t possibly survive down there!” The woman practically cried, taking stumbled steps back, trying to put more distance between herself and Michael as if that would make any difference to her fate. No one dared speak up, for no one wanted to defy the will of God.

“You’ll be serving our father more than you ever could have here in heaven. Don’t you see, you’ve been chosen, out of millions of angels, god’s children, to do this deed. To make a difference,” Michael’s soft voice spoke, reaching all ears without much effort. Crystal like tears rolled down her flushed cheeks as the angel shook her head, spreading her wings to get ready to fly away, only for a couple angels to finally step in and grab her arms.

“No! Let go of me! I don’t want to! I’ll die!”

You could feel your pulse increasing and clenched your fists to refrain from speaking. This was wrong, beyond wrong, but who were you to defy God’s wishes? He knew all, did he not? Yet you found yourself doubting him more and more as Amethyst struggled to escape. At war with yourself, you caved, spreading your large white wings and giving a single, strong flap, taking you over everyone else before landing once more, between Michael and the young girl. How could you, an angel of over three hundred years, allow such a young angel to suffer.

“Arch Angel Michael, you can’t do this!” You declared firmly, hands trembling lightly but standing strong. “I don’t see why God can’t just send an angel, an exterminator perhaps, down into hell to do his work? Why take someone’s halo from them? Their grace? It’s insanity!” Murmurs started back up at your sudden defence, familiar faces backing further into the crowd so they didn’t have to watch someone they knew make a fool of themselves. “I love God, he is my beloved father, but I can not stand by and watch this young woman lose even more after only dying recently. She stands no chance down there.”

“Miss (L/N), I would hold my tongue if I were you. If you continue to defy god, I cannot be held accountable for what may come next,” Michael warned you, fingers twitching by his side, ready to summon his holy weapon if you were to lash out. Your own hand longed for the comfort of your own holy weapon but you refrained from summoning it out of fear for what Michael may do to you.

“I will not let God or anyone else strip this angel of her halo without good reason. Send an exterminator,” you insisted, narrowing your eyes at your superior, holding up your brave front as best as you could but you could not deny the absolute terror prompting your heart to beat fast enough to harm had you been a regular human being.

You held Michael’s gaze, unwavering until you saw his tense body relax as a sigh escaped his lungs.

“Very well, Father has accepted. We will send an exterminator. Enjoy your time in Hell (Y/N) (L/N).”

Your eyes widened as your lips parted in horror. What? Gasps were heard from all around before you no longer felt God’s comforting warmth around you and the sensation of falling filled your very being. Oh, you were falling. No matter how hard you fought to spread your wings and catch yourself, you still plummeted. It hurt, no, it burned and after what seemed like eternity, you crashed.

Your body collided with a tall standing building, dropping through floor after floor and continuing a few feet after you hit the ground. The building soon followed, crumbling to the ground around your fallen from, unable to move out of the way. Yet nothing landed on you. With your arms and wings spread out, you stared up at the red sky above, dark yet somehow bringing light… Up, way above, was a white dot, much like the sun as it shone down on the earth, only now it was taunting you, reminding you of where you no longer were.

“Why have you forsaken me Father? Was I not right for protecting my fellow angels?” you barely whispered, the taste of blood finally reaching your tongue. You would heal in due time… nothing to fear. No, what you had to fear were the demons slowly making their way around you, gazing into the crater you had created with your ungraceful fall. Guess that��s what happens when you have your grace ripped away from you.

“Is that an angel?”

“What’s an angel doing in hell?”

“They don’t look like an exterminator. Fuck it, let’s take their wings.”

“Heh, you can have the wings, I’m after their halo.”

Voices chimed from all around you and all you could do was watch in a panic as you willed your body to move. You may not have had your halo anymore but you sure as hell weren’t going to let these demons take your wings! Your fingers twitched as the demons pushed each other around to get to you first, pulling weapons on each other despite knowing they could hardly kill each other without a holy weapon. Speaking of… You managed to close your fist and summoned your exterminator’s spear. Having the familiar weapon in your hands gave a wave of comfort to your sore body and an even bigger wave of energy.

While everyone was distracted with fighting each other off, you grunted, pushing yourself off the ground with the help of your spear to prevent you from going back over. It seemed everyone had noticed you stand up, shaking dirt and rubble out of your huge wings as an exterminator’s mask glitched over your face, crack running down the crossed-out eye as it struggled to stay activated. Perfect, a glitching mask. Just what you needed.

“Back off,” you growled, taking on a defensive stance, very aware of the fact that you were surrounded, and horribly wounded. The extent of your injuries could be figured out later, for now, you needed to get out of the open and find a place to hide out. You pulled your wings in tight against your back as all weapons were turned on you from those who hadn’t run off the moment your mask glitched into place. Good, a lot of them were smart enough not to mess with an exterminator. Well, ex-exterminator but they didn’t have to know that now did they?

Heart in your throat and pounding in your ears, you put up the fight of your life. So many demons usually feared exterminators, but many of these fools refused to back down, perhaps believing that they had a chance against a lone angel. You’d be ashamed to admit they were almost right, but luck seemed to be on your side, as you cut another demon down and dashed out of there, running down alleyways, running across empty streets and eventually finding yourself in an abandoned building, barely standing from ears of abuse. You recognised it, much to your own surprise, as a place you have been to before. You’d chased a demon here once. Killed them right in the corner you were sitting in, out of breath and body trembling from pain and fear. You hadn’t trembled so badly since your first extermination. Hell was a scary place, especially when you’ve never been there before. You’ve been here hundreds of times now, only this was your first time alone and with no clear way home.

Your heart didn’t slow all that much, your body too tense to possibly relax any time soon, but your breathing got better, much to the relief of your aching chest. Now calming down and somewhat safe, you uncurled and rid yourself of your mask, but kept your spear by your side. Just in case you needed to defend yourself again – but you weren’t so sure just how well you’d hold up in another fight so soon, so you could only pray that you were safe.

You stretched one of your wings out, curling it around yourself to inspect the damage, finding shards of glass stuck within the feathers and embedded in your wings, staining the once pure white feathers red. That was going to take a while to wash out… You heaved out a sigh and plucked out the shards of glass, causing your wounds to bleed some more but not dangerously. You did the same to the other wing and finally, felt yourself starting to relax when you realised that your wings weren’t broken, just damaged. They’d heal within time; you would be fine.

“Those are some nasty injuries you have there my dear! Why, I’d say you’ve had quite the fall,” a distorted voice suddenly spoke from one of the awfully dark corners of the room. Lifting your head quickly, you searched for the source of the voice, only to find two red, glowing orbs staring right back at you. How hadn’t you noticed them when you came inside?! No- they weren’t in here when you arrived, they had followed you. You quickly reached out for your spear, only for it to slap back down onto the hard ground as a dress shoe clad foot stepped down on it.

“Now, now, let’s not cause a scene, shall we? After the show you just put on, I doubt you’re in any shape to be taking anyone on any time soon,” he chided, kneeling down before you.

A tall man dressed in a red pin-striped suit, bright red and black hair and… hey would you look at that, he was a deer demon… and unfortunately, you recognised him. Exterminators typically knew a lot about those who roamed around in hell. For example, you could name a good number of the overlords, such as the man before you now, grin ever present on his face.

“Radio Demon…” you murmured, making his grin stretch wider as amusement shone in his eyes.

“My, the little angel knows who I am~” he hummed, grabbing your chin in a firm grip, turning your head this way and that as if to take a good look at you.

“You’re going to kill me then?” you questioned, your own (E/C) eyes staring intensely back into his. You were terrified, no doubt about that, but if you were going to die, then you would die fighting. The demon chuckled and shook his head.

“No, no, no, darling! Quite the opposite actually, I’m here to offer you a helping hand!” he declared, standing back up and making a microphone appear in his hand as he stepped off of your spear. Taking this as your chance, you picked it up and stood, holding your weapon defensively, pointed right at his chest.

“I hardly doubt you could help me demon. Now leave me alone before I end your sorry existence right here and now,” you warned him, hoping he’d just back down and maybe come back later. When you could actually stand a chance against him. He merely chuckled again, beginning to piss you off.

“Couldn’t I now? Not even if I offered you a 100% safe place to stay and assistance with your injuries?” he inquired with a raised brow.

You couldn’t afford to believe him. He was a demon, a liar, there was no way he wanted to help you out.

“How can I possibly trust you? Demon’s don’t do nice things for the sake of others, so what do you want?”

Alastor sighed but his smile never faded as he turned around and started to walk towards the exit of the building.

“I never said I was doing this from the good of my heart and what I want hardly matters either. It’s up to you if you trust me or not, but I’d remember where you are quickly. Not many here in hell are going to be so generous.”

So, what else was there to do but follow? After all, at this rate, you were going to die anyway. You never would have imagined that he would lead you to the very Hotel that started this ordeal in the first place.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #alastor x reader #radio demon #fallen angel #fallen angel reader #angel reader #alastor x angel reader #reader is an exterminator #willing to write part two if wanted

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write-a-bad-romance · 4 years ago

Text

Good in Red (Mozart x Isaac)

Pairing: Mozart x Isaac

Rating: T

Word Count: 3390

Prompt: Yandere, Gakuen AU

Ao3 Link: Here

Happy Halloween! I hope you're up for something a bit more experimental!

There was a downpour outside. That much Wolf could tell.

Lately, the white-haired youth found it laborious to roll off the bed and step outside. Not like there was anything to do in the living room.

The constant pangs in his head made it worse. Thank God the room he was kept in was just right across the bathroom. It was one of the few acts of mercy he was given in this otherwise appalling situation.

There was a water dispenser installed by the desk, with fresh mugs replaced daily. Lunch was... unusual, to say the least. Every day, there'd be a lovingly crafted bento box packed with snacks (and sometimes a carton of milk) left on the desk with a post-it note attached,

The cutely worded messages betrayed the sinister implications of Wolf's predicament. They were better suited for husbands leaving for the office or a child about to spend lunchtime for the first time in middle or high school.

It didn't fit the perpetually frowning boy, whose scent still lingered on the pillow next to his.

Wolf first saw him at the end of a recital, cherry blossom orbs full of wonder as the young conductor eye's swept over his roaring audience.

He was a friend of Leonardo, one of his violinists and a second grade. He was the president of the science club, and he confirmed Wolf's newest fanboy to be one of his members.

"A bit shy, that kid. But definitely full of potential." The Italian spoke between drags of sweet-scented cigarettes (like the chronic chain smoker he was, Wolf's nose curled in distaste) one afternoon. "He doesn't talk much, always standing by himself in the corner. But when he gets talking, boy. He's definitely going places someday, maybe even Todai*. Or MIT."

"Never seen him before, and I'm good at recognizing faces." Wolf's eyes scanned the cafeteria and spotted a female underclassman waving at him. He didn't return the gesture. "Is he a transfer student?"

"Try asking your best friend about him," Leonardo winked as he rose from his chair and gathered his tray. "His other best bud seems to be thick as thieves with the kid."

His name was Isaac, and he loved physics.

Wolf had no need to seek the freshman out himself. It was the school darling Napoleon who ambushed him after rehearsal one afternoon, a fidgeting redhead in tow.

Wolf had no patience for his type — painfully shy and ready to burst with a single poke. Wolf figured Napoleon was used to secondhand embarrassment as the bumbling schoolboy tripped on his own introduction.

I'm Isaac, and I love physics. The exact same words.

"N-nice to meet you." he blushed. "I've been coming to your recitals, you see. And I'm-"

Wolf zoned out on the remaining words as he expertly masked his growing disinterest. At least the boy seemed sincere.

The boy brought a sizable bouquet full of gladiolus and lily-of-the-valley. His face must have been burning behind the flowers as he presented them to Wolf.

"H-here." He thrust the bouquet in Wolf's face. "I hope this isn't too much."

He'd been given roses, chocolate, and even stuffed animals from secret admirers, boys and girls alike. But the straightforwardness with which Isaac gifted him the colorful array was novel.

"Danke Schoen." Their fingers touched as Wolf received the offering. Isaac was trembling. "You didn't need to go this far."

"But I- I wanted to!" The boy exclaimed with passion. Wolf was so astonished that he had no time to fight the red blooming across his cheeks.

Visiting the music room outside club hours had been Wolf's habit since his first year. It gave him time to practice and space to breathe new ideas into his compositions.

Before, there was nobody but him and the lustrous grand piano. Isaac became a new addition to his routine, unwelcome.

But only at first.

"Ah, Wolf-senpai. You're still here. Again," He would barge in at the end of every song, after unsuccessfully concealing himself near the door. "You don't ...tire, do you? It's after hours, and you're still fiddling with the piano."

It's the uneasiness in his voice that made the exchange endearing.

"And Leonardo should be looking for you by now." He smirked. "Don't you have science club?"

"Oh, there was nothing much, just a meeting and... stuff. I suppose you don't mind me intruding on your...uh, practice."

Wolf wanted to say he did mind. The line suited someone with a little more dash and charm, like Napoleon, better. The way Isaac stuttered and stumbled on his own words was amusing if only a bit awkward.

Few people could withstand Wolf's aloofness, and most would cower away after the slightest click of a tongue. There was a reason why he was dubbed the 'Ice Prince' by the school population.

The gratuitously assigned title always gave him and Jean (the other Cold Beauty of the School) a good laugh during lunch breaks. Except for the select few, no other person in the entire student body dared to disturb their exclusive, distant bubble of companionship.

Isaac was either admiringly bold or dangerously foolish for inviting himself into Wolf's presence. The music prodigy thought the effort was worth applauding.

Not that it was failing.

"I've got still got some sandwiches here. If you'd like, we can- "

" Sure, I've got some time to spare." Wolf smiled as he gathered his sheets. Isaac looked like he could drop dead on the spot.

"I didn't know you had this much interest in music," Wolf commented one breezy afternoon as they shared earphones on the school's rooftop. Without too much deliberation, he decided to let Isaac listen to his demos.

The boy was surprisingly candid with his critiques on Wolf's compositions, despite being a fanboy (which he refused to admit).

"I grew up on classical music," The boy replied. "Nan always said it contributed to my IQ or something."

Wolf held back a snicker. It was very much Isaac to drop hints of his own superiority, even behind a self-deprecating tone.

"I'm glad you did. Jean doesn't really listen to them. He's hopeless when I ask him for opinions."

Isaac dropped his fork onto the plastic food box with a loud clack.

"You talk to him too?" Wolf imagined Isaac drooping like a puppy. "Of course. He's your best friend."

Wolf only thought it was cute at the time.

"You're living by yourself?"

Isaac nodded as they walked side by side, cherry blossom trees in full bloom along the road. It was the start of a new school year, and Wolf had accepted Isaac's invitation to walk home together that day.

"You should try making unforgettable memories before you graduate." Jean urged him after hearing his best friend's recent development with his new best friend. "It's not often you get the chance to score with your favorite underclassman."

"Sure. Good luck scoring with Napoleon, yourself."

Wolf barely took notice of his surroundings as he was led to a massive apartment building. Even he knew no student would be able to rent their 1DK* units on part-time wage and parental subsidy.

"You're not the only one with fat wads of dosh." Isaac playfully smirked as he opened the door to his apartment.

Wolf could feel his heart thumping against his chest as he took his first step into the threshold.

There was no window to the outside world besides the TV. His iPhone was stashed away somewhere in this godforsaken apartment, most likely dismantled beyond repair.

Wolf curled on the too-small couch as the sound of rain muffled whatever trite noises the TV made. These days, there was nothing to watch but variety shows and drama.

He had no stomach for anime. His jailer, however, would drag him out to eat dinner while watching his favorite series.

He'd laugh and talk to him as if this was normal. Wolf supposed it was, for the aberrant. Had he been a girl, the freak would somehow bring get his hands on a marriage registration form and force him to sign it.

Alright, that was harsh. But judging from Wolf's current circumstances, maybe his prejudice towards the other boy wasn't entirely unjustified.

He fell for his kindness, and his hormonal, teenage self drove sealed his fate. What he thought was a mutual exchange between two touch-starved boys turned into a one-way transaction with no way out.

Wolf laid down on his back. The shadows playing across the ceiling gave him a sense of deja vu.

He could still feel the weight of a warm body on his own and the scent of strawberries clinging to his black sweater. His eyes and head were full of nothing but Isaac, Isaac, Isaa-

If that afternoon felt like a dream, then this must be a nightmare. The next time he opened his eyes, he would be back in his own bedroom, Nannerl's voice waking him from outside the door.

"Where on earth did you manage to get that? You don't have a sister."

"Be still, "Isaac admonished, leaning so close that he was partially sitting on Wolf's lap. "You don't want me to smear this all over your face."

You're not answering my question. Wolf wanted to know why Isaac was able to produce a glossy lip tint from his bedroom. He'd seen girls at his school carrying that particular brand and type. It became en vogue several months ago, and he still remembered his sister saying it was a best-seller.

Why a schoolboy with no girlfriend kept one in his bedroom, he didn't know. If this were somebody else, Wolf wouldn't pry. But this was Isaac.

He needed to know more about him. Peel away his layers and uncover the many different faces no one else would ever see.

Wolf put up mock resistance as the pointed applicator (apple-scented. Curious.) drew closer to his lips. Knowing that struggling would only lead him into having one of his eyes poked, the taller boy decided to lay down and let Isaac finish the job.

He gently swept the tint over Wolf's lips back and forth until he was satisfied. He reared back to look at his handiwork adoringly.

"Ah, as I thought, you look perfect in red." Isaac was quick to don back his signature frown. Only this time, there was a furious blush spreading across his cheeks.

Wolf said nothing as he pulled Isaac's tie until dry lips crashed on his lacquered own. The younger boy was just as eager as he was, an inquisitive tongue slipping into Wolf's welcoming mouth.

"I haven't seen you as often lately." Isaac caught him one day in the shoe changing area. "Been going somewhere?"

Wolf smoothly fought his desire to brush back Isaac's bangs from his forehead. "I'm now a third-year, and I'm attending the university prep class. I need to devote my time to studying."

"Is that why you're hanging with Leonardo-senpai all the time in the library?"

"What do you think? Of course," Wolf rushed towards the exit. He had no time for Isaac's nagging. "My parents have high expectations of me, you know."

"But what about your music?"

Wolf stopped in his tracks and turned toward the panting boy. "What about it?"

"I thought you got a recommendation from a music school somewhere. Why do you need to spend all your time studying?" the redhead yelled, his outburst a rare display of candid emotion.

What's with this naivety you're suddenly showing me? "My portfolio alone won't be enough to get me into a good school. I also need good grades to help me pass. I thought that's obvious, especially to you."

No high-achieving student like Isaac would suddenly fret over having to achieve higher grades to get to a reputable university.

I thought you wanted to get into astrophysics yourself? Does it not require outstanding grades?

"Isaac, what-"

"Then, does that mean you'll stop going to the music room and play like you used to?" Isaac strode to catch up with Wolf. "Does that mean I can't come and see you anymore?"

Wolf reached out and grabbed Isaac's sides, unaware of the attention they drew from bystanders. "If that's what you're worried about," he sighed. "We can go on weekends when I'm able. How does that sound?"

He didn't like the slight trembling of Isaac's lips. Here, he couldn't kiss it away. Not if it meant risking becoming the topic of gossip among students for many months to come

Wolf's phone vibrated for the fifth time over the last twenty minutes.

"Are you not picking that up?" Jean pointed at the device, eliciting a groan from its owner.

"That's just Isaac. Ignore it." The white-haired youth snatched his phone and switched on silent mode. "He's just a lot clingier lately."

"Why don't you block him? I'm sure this is not the first time." Jean regarded him calmly, his eyes focused on the problem that they were in the middle of solving. "Doesn't it bother you too when you're studying alone?"

"That's a little too harsh, even for Isaac." Wolf threw the phone over his head, and it landed on the bed with a soft thud. "Besides, weren't you the one shoving me towards him?"

Jean tapped the butt of his pencil against his lips. "I didn't expect it would turn into anything like this."

"Like what?"

"That he'd turn out to be this... possessive." Jean selected his words carefully. "I'm surprised you even let him go this far."

Wolf sighed. His friend was right. Nobody had ever driven him up the wall quite like Isaac. "He's always been lonely," Wolf concluded, violet orbs focusing on the mechanical pencil he was twirling. "I can't just leave him alone, can I?"

"Even so," Jean murmured. "I can't bear to see you like this. I've seen you approached by admirers before, and you turned them down all down without trouble."

What's so different about him? was the real question he didn't ask.

"He's... entertaining, to be honest. Makes you want to take care of him." Wolf explained, matter-of-factly. There wasn't a single tinge of red on his cheeks. "But, to be honest, his clinginess does irk me a bit."

Jean came over to ask help from Wolf for his math homework. He wasn't here to listen to him drawling about his (honestly hopeless) love life.

Wolf brought his attention back to the workbook they had abandoned. His brows were knitted in thought.

"You think it's a good idea to call it quits with Isaac?"

After a while, the rain finally quieted down, nearly lulling Wolf to sleep. Losing himself to slumber was the easiest, least painful way to deal with this hallucination-gone-horribly-real.

There was light rain on the day he asked Isaac to talk in a cafe not too far from here. Wolf remembered it like it was only yesterday. There was the posh interior, girls from the nearby Catholic school giggling at them, the aftertaste of the cafe au lait he ordered. He could vividly picture the delicately plated apple pancake in front of Isaac, piping hot and enticing.

He would never forget phantom tears prickling in the corner of Isaac's rosy eyes.

Everything considered, he did what he'd always done: tell the other they needed to part ways, calmly explain the reason why, and set boundaries. "I won't be answering your calls or messages, and I won't be waiting around for you after school."

"I will no longer be visiting the music room. You won't find me there."

Unexpectedly, the boy only heaved a sigh and shook his head. No screaming or begging involved.

"I see. I had a feeling it would turn out this way." He continued to finish his dessert silently.

Perhaps it was out of genuine love (or even pity) that he brusquely offered to walk Isaac back to his apartment building one last time. Wolf didn't consider himself a poor judge of character, so it must be his heart winning over his head.

And what a blunder that was.

He nearly collapsed onto Isaac's side, barely listening to the boy fretting and calling to him in distress. "Senpai, what's the matter? You look pale. Let's get you inside so you can lie down."

The unwitting Wolf was led straight into his awaiting den.

Wolf awoke to the sound of the front door unlocking and a quiet I'm home, followed by some shuffling and other sorts of ruckus the clumsy boy caused.

Footsteps approached the couch he laid on. His heart no longer throbbed like crazy by now whenever the other came near.

"I'm home, Wolf. Why didn't you answer?"

His boyish voice used to be the reason why he was drawn to Isaac. But now, it only made his skin crawl. Wolf seethed and averted his eyes as far away as possible from his 'guardian', wishing he could regurgitate his lunch all over the plush carpet.

"Are you still sulking? Don't be. It doesn't become that lovely face of yours."

If you weren't drugging me daily, I would have strangled you.

"Were you lonely without me? It can get pretty dull as dishwater 'round here." Wolf tried to distract himself from the hands, grabbing him and propping himself up. " 'suppose it's about time I get you a keyboard to play. It'll be like the old days."

I wish I never let you inside the music room that day.

Cold fingers combed through unruly silver locks. "This is all 'Leon's fault. Bummer. He insisted on waiting for Jean-senpai."

Isaac squeezed himself into space next to Wolf's rigid figure. The elder closed his eyes as an arm snaked its way around his waist. "Yeah, we couldn't exactly run under heavy rain."

Wolf's eyes were fixed on the screen. Would there ever be a chance of his face showing on breaking news, a shot of his parents crying over their missing son, or interviews with fellow students from his school?

Anything but the white noise the darned TV emitted. Or the unwanted hand now caressing his burning cheek.

Poor sod looked like he was missing you for real. Napoleon invited him to walk home with us because he 'couldn't bear to see him in distress." His voice dropped into a whisper. "But if you ask me."

"They're prolly trading making out in some dark alley because Jean-senpai can't stand being alone," Isaac mocked. Every syllable pouring out of his lips made Wolf's stomach churn. "I take back what I said about him missing you. He just wants dick in him, thinking it'll help him get better."

The plastic remote clattered on an uncovered part of the wooden floor. Wolf wanted to pry away his imprisoner's claws from his shoulder. Fingers that used to radiate heat all over his skin now left nothing but disgust in their wake.

"He likes to pretend he's all prim and proper when really, he's just an attention-seeking slag." The venom was so palpable and potent in his voice that it made Wolf overlook the fact that the bastard was muttering directly against the back of his neck. "I don't get why you kept putting up with him, that fraud."

Nobody else would ever be this genuine to you, Wolf-senpai. So the boy mumbled to him every night before sleep.

All sheepish pretenses were thrown and cast aside as conveniently as changing clothes. Wolves were affectionate creatures, the young composer once read.

But they're still wolves.

"I don't know if you'd be fine with electric keyboards," Isaac sighed into his hair. "If I had more money, I'd buy you a real red piano — the polished kind that looks like a toy. Ah, I used to see them all the time at a toy store when I was a kid."

Isaac's delirious rambling convinced Wolf that he wasn't the madman. That this was real and that there was no waking up from this long, bad dream —

Wolf violently shut his eyes as Isaac drew him closer, tighter. To Wolf's impaired senses, Isaac's words were losing to the sound of rain. There was a downpour outside.

" I found a picture of you from when you were in middle school. You were already stunning, sitting in front of your family's white piano." He went on. "It's always white, grey, light blue. Ever thought that you'd look perfectly good in red?"

Glossary:

*1 Todai: short for Tokyo Daigaku or Tokyo University. Basically Japan's most legendary university. *2 1DK: a Japanese term referring to an apartment unit with two rooms with a kitchen and dining space separated from other areas. The D stands for "Dining" and K stands for "Kitchen".

I originally planned this to be a shorter fic from Isaac's perspective, but I switched to Mozart's instead and got carried away.

#ikevam fanfic #ikemen vampire #ikevam mozart #ikevam isaac #mosaac #mozart x isaac #riri tries ikevam

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hitbythunder · 4 years ago

Text

Chandrilan Moons -3

A Kylo Ren x Reader story with much angst, possessiveness and dark themes (warnings will be updated as the story progresses) –> Read also on AO3

Summary: Growing up under the loving care of your foster-mother, Leia Organa, there had been nothing for you and Rey to want for. Though not of kin, you loved Rey as your sister and spent a happy childhood with her on Chandrila. But when the boiling galactic politics demanded for Leia to take action, for the Resistance to rise and fight, the girls could no longer evade the cruelty of the world. Kylo Ren sought a map as a key to revenge, to freedom, and had no use for a force-unsensitive young girl like you. You were simply a means to an end. Until his darkness latched onto you, drawn in by your light as you were by the demon that is Kylo Ren - inevitably gravitating towards each other, bound to be one. Like the Chandrilan moons.

**** WARNING: description of violence, mentions of rape

____________________________xXx____________________________

3- A disturbance in the Force

+Takodana - neutral territory+

Flying through space was amazing and although two experienced and trusted Resistance pilots had accompanied us girls on our mission, the glistening stars as far as one could see was worth it all. While Rey remained slightly pouting for most of the flight, I was glued to one of the side-windows of the ship. It was a small but bulky transport ship, for a star-fighter couldn't hold that many people and would have attracted too much attention once we landed on Takodana. Albeit its neutrality in the war, one should never act foolishly, especially since neutrality itself depended heavily on the benefits of a foregone alliance. But with Maz Kanata, the owner of the famous castle that granted sanctuary to everyone for one night, and proved friend of the Resistance, nothing could go wrong today and the whole mission seemed as good as done.

Leia had sent us there to retrieve the Jedi texts Maz had bought from a smuggler who had passed through weeks ago, hoping that they might help Rey's training in the Force. Or so I assumed as I curiously scanned the texts before Rey put the few scrolls and loose pages in a safety-box inside her back-pack.

"There's one more thing." Maz rummaged in a small chest among the sheer endless heaps of stuff in the castle's vault, leaving me to wonder how she could possibly remain an overview of what was down here. But perhaps that was why it was such a good hiding-place for forbidden artifacts such as Jedi-texts - as well as the light-sabre Maz now held solemnly in her wrinkled hands.

"Oh my stars, Luke Skywalker's light-sabre!" Rey was beyond herself with joy, her hands trembling slightly as she took the legendary weapon and gingerly inspected it from all sides. Ever the technician, Rey simply had to understand how that thing worked exactly and probably would disassemble the sabre if it hadn't been Luke's.

While I shared my sister's excitement, I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as I watched Rey posing with the sabre. As so often, I found myself lacking as compared to my sister and Maz's talk about destiny and great deeds to be done with that sabre didn't make it any better. So I zoned out, sulking quietly in the background, until the three of us left the stuffy vault via seemingly endless stairs. We reemerged back into the dining hall of the castle's ground-floor where the canteen was, without drawing attention of the guests there. In one corner of the hall, a band played jolly tunes, which echoed off the thick castle walls and arched ceiling in a cacophony with the chatter of people. Because of many nooks and columns, the canteen could house many guests without seeming stuffed and a social-introvert like me could feel quite overwhelmed by all the noises, smells and visuals. I had never seen such variety of alien races, humans and droids gathered peacefully in one place.

With our mission virtually accomplished, the Jedi texts secured, it was time for us to return to the base and thus I scanned the canteen for our two escorts. But fate had other plans, for suddenly three very familiar faces appeared at the entrance of the dingy dining hall.

"Han Solo!" Maz cried out, shifting everyone's attention to the smuggler and his companions Chewie, a startled guy in Poe's jacket and Poe himself, his loyal droid BB-8 at his heels.

What in the galaxy are they doing here? I wondered while they approached us, an uneasy tingling overcoming my nerves. In hindsight, to give in and investigate this strange feeling more closely would have spared me so much trouble. But instead I pushed it down and greeted the guys as friendly as ever and soon later we found ourselves seated at the last available table. After getting us some food and beverages, Maz joined us at the round table, listening intently to the quiet conversation. We informed Han about our mission before he could get any wrong ideas (e.g. that we stole a ship and went against Leia's orders) and it felt nice that he cared about our well-being.

"Kriff, that is amazing!" Rey nearly burst with excitement as Poe, with interruptions of Han and Fin (the new guy), told us about what had happened on his mission. To sum it up, Poe had been on Jakku to get a map leading to Luke Skywalker but had been caught by the First Order and tortured by Kylo Ren himself. I shuddered at that part, because everybody knew not to cross paths with this merciless demon. Ren's cruelty and thirst for blood-shed seemed endless, his hatred for the Resistance only fueling his powers, and I could not fathom to imagine what Ren had done to squeeze every ounce of information out of Poe.

Luckily, Poe had entrusted the map to BB-8, who had remained hidden on Jakku the whole time, until Poe had managed to escape by the help of Fin, a renegade stormtrooper. Well, and as if fate had decided to stir things up even more, they had bumped into Han and Chewie on the way - something concerning smugglers and gross aliens, I didn't listen too carefully then - and due to low fuel and necessary repairs they had to make a stop here on Takodana.

"Wow, what a ride..." I said with awe and respect for their courage and luck, which had at least Fin and Poe smile proudly.

"Yeah, didn't exactly go to plan-" Poe replied between sips of his beer, Han scoffing beside him and mumbling something to Chewie about the recklessness of youth. "-but here we are, map in hand."

"And as soon as the Falcon's refueled we're leavin'!" Han declared as soon as Poe finished, his tone harsh but one could tell he only meant well for all of us. "Gonna make sure y'all get back in one piece." Obviously, Leia would have Han's head should anything happen to her girls, her best pilot and the map under his watch. And although I sensed his reluctance to face Leia, I was looking forward to the resemblance of a family. Hopefully they wouldn't quarrel from the start on.

Somewhat lost in my fantasies of a happy family life, I hadn't registered the growing debate between Finn, Rey and Poe.

"... you don't know them as I do! There's no fighting the First Order because they'll slaughter us for even trying. I've seen enough of their horrors and I want nothing to do with them!" Finn declared heatedly and barely kept his voice low as Poe repeatedly urged him to, also keeping the renegade in his chair.

"But that's the point! You have so much detailed insider-information which we could use to fight them! Why would you waste that and cling to the illusion of outrunning them?" Rey retorted with unabashedly directness and not less heatedly, the spirit of the Resistance burning fiercely in her hazel eyes. "Fleeing like a coward."

Finn rose then, anger and shame written across his face, though he didn't come up with a response and after a few seconds gave in to Poe tucking at his sleeve, sat back down and glared into his cup. A tensed silence hung over the table, until Maz subtly changed the subject by engaging Han in a conversation about a mutual smuggler-friend of theirs. With a fuming Rey beside me, I shot Poe a questioning glance, but he looked as helpless beside Finn as I felt and began to talk some sense into Finn in a calm manner. That he should come with us to the base, at least for a little while.

Next to Han, Chewie was eager to get out of here, groaning impatiently beside his friend and rubbing his bandaged arm.

"All right, Chewie, go on and check on our baby." Han said between Maz's babbling and quickly grabbed his beer before Chewie would knock it over as the giant jumped to his feet.

"I'm coming with you." on impulse I rose too, dismissing everyone's questioning looks as I added: "I need some air anyways."

Let them cool their heads while I'm gone, I thought and jogged after Chewie.

Since Maz's castle was built on a cliff surrounded by the ocean on one side and dense forest on the other, the landing-places were spread to a few clearings nearby. So we had to walk a little and although Chewie wasn't particularly chatty, I didn't mind either and enjoyed the beautiful landscape. At the bottom of the weathered castle's stairs, we turned right and followed a lovely path between lush grassy hills at the border of the forest, the rush of the nearby sea accompanying our steps. Suddenly Chewie halted, his hairy arm on my shoulder stopping me too, and pointed towards the thicket. There, half-hidden by the greenery, two humans were carrying a seemingly shut-down BB-8 further away from the castle.

Hasn't BB-8 been with Poe and us the whole time? I wondered briefly. But then, BB-8 was a small droid and many people had squeezed themselves past our table in the brimming canteen. Perhaps we had all been too distracted by the heated conversation between Rey and Finn to notice BB-8's absence.

"I'll follow them and stop them from leaving. You go use that long legs of yours and get the others, Chewie! Rey'll find me through the Force!" I declared in a split-second-decision, already dashing away into the dense forest and leaving a groaning wookiee behind.

Deeper and deeper I ventured in my pursuit, steadily closing the distance between myself and the thieves without alerting them of my presence. As children, Rey and I had often played hide and seek in the forests of Chandrila and I had to develop some pretty decent sneaking-skills to diminish her advantage with the Force. Rey had only once admitted that she wouldn't have won all those times if she hadn't used the Force to sense my approach. Thus, even if my sneaking skills should fail me I trusted that Rey would be able to find me. I just had to stall some time, delay those thugs from leaving, until Rey and the others would arrive. At one point, the two thieves halted to catch their breaths and looked around. I quickly ducked behind a tree, easing my nerves. Suddenly I noticed a bright red stroke on the otherwise blue sky above, far away yet ominous to watch. Though I had no clue what it was, I instantly had a bad feeling about it. But more pressing matters were at hand, and after another deep breath I dared to peek around the trunk. There was only one thief beside BB-8 then.

Kriff, where did the other go?!

Maybe Chewie should have chased them, not me, I admitted to myself as I was hauled by a pair of large hands and thrown very harshly on the forest floor next to the motionless droid.

"Look what followed us, mate!" said the gruff guy to his companion, who looked terribly scrawny in comparison. Both reeked of ale and whatnot, their ugly visages distorted by sinister smiles.

"A pretty thing like that will make a good price, I wager. Not as high as for the droid though." the scrawny one snickered as he mustered me, while the bear-like guy's eyes roamed over my body with a different kind of greed.

"How 'bout a taste..."

"No!" I screamed as he grabbed me, trashing against his hold, and somehow I managed to draw my small combat-knife from its holster at my hips. I thrust without much consideration, nor proper aim, stabbing bear-guy right above the knee. The blade sunk hilt-deep into his thigh-muscle. He howled in pain and repaid me with a hearty slap across my face, sending me flying back against BB-8 and onto the mossy ground. The impact caused the droid to reawaken and a small safety compartment at its front jumped open, the object within landing a few feet ahead of me.

The map! my dizzy mind concluded with horror.

Ignoring the rising pain in my body, I crept on all fours and frantically scanned the forest floor with my hands in a panicked search for the map. Scrawny guy was still laughing at his companion. Knowing that the guys and Poe in particular, had risked their lives for this map and that finding Luke was vital for the future of the Resistance, I simply couldn't loose it nor let it be taken by those thugs. It was my chance to prove my value as part of the Resistance and failing wasn't an option.

What would Leia think if I screw this up? Or Poe?

Then, finally, my right palm touched a metallic longish object and instantly I closed my fingers tightly around it. The very moment I did so, a flash of energy shot through me, momentarily blinding all my senses in its immense light and suddenly the outline of a star-constellation appeared before my inner eye. Planets and stars twinkled in a blueish hue, in between a red dotted line that led to a particular oceanic planet. Though somehow familiar, I could not place this constellation and this strange vision lasted only a few seconds, before a sudden sharp pain in my hand brought me back to my present predicament.

+++

In front of Takodana castle, the fight between stormtroopers and Resistance had just begun by the time Kylo arrived there. His ship landed like a looming black bird among the First Order transports and agitation spread in his muscles upon the pending blood-shed, especially since he had sensed another force-user inside the castle. By far not as strong as him, but hopefully they would do for some entertainment compared to the other scum-bags that died like flies at his hand. Kylo was marching determinedly towards the building, when he felt it.

A disturbance in the Force within the forest to his right, faintly but clear as a lightning-bolt at distance and vanished just as quickly. Kylo paused, scanned the area with his powers and concluded that the other Force-user was up ahead at the bottom of the castle - not in the direction of the disturbance. Weighing his options, Kylo dismissed the distraction for being just that and walked on to find his opponent. The Force, however, tickled his senses again, rippling with distinct restlessly as if to tempt him and now it seemed foolish not to inquire further.

"Find that droid at all costs! And take no prisoners!" Kylo barked towards a nearby officer, before he stormed off into the forest.

The lightning-bolt had pinned down the exact location and the closer he got, the stronger the Force seemed to pull him there, becoming more insistent with each step. Faster, it seemed to whisper and spurned his steps beyond the capacity of men, neither rocks nor tree-stumps posing a real obstacle in his path. Kylo felt some human presence long before they came into view, two men beating and kicking a woman cowering at their feet. Judging by their appearance, they were either smugglers or Resistance-fighters and either was good enough reason to kill them.

Silent in his approach, Kylo descended upon them like a dark shadow from behind, the hiss of igniting his light-sabre the only foretelling sound of their demise. Effortlessly, the red crackling blade cut through cloth, flesh and bone, drenching the nearby greenery and earth with blood.

#kylo ren x reader #possessive!Kylo #star wars sequel fic #drama and angst #fanfic #kylo ren

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clintbartonswife · 5 years ago

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Home

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, (platonic) Steve x Reader Summary: When Steve first comes out of the ice, he learns of his fellow Howling Commando’s fates, yours being less than pretty. So, when he goes back to return the stones, he decides to be selfish. He brings you home.

Written for @buckygrantbarnes writing challenge with the prompt : Epiphany (n)- a moment of sudden revelation or insight. It’s in bold. I really tried

Warning: brief mentions of suicide, angst, minor swearing, involves flashbacks (through Steve’s eyes) to 40s!bucky and 40s!steve

Word Count: 3.2k - this was not meant to get this long oh dear god

masterlist

“Are you sure you want to do this Cap?” Tony asked, placing the Manila folders in front of him cautiously, “You might not like everything that you read”

Steve just nodded, his eyes immediately drawn to your file, “I have to know”

He waited until he was alone that evening to look through the folders, starting with Dum Dum’s folder. By 2 am in the morning he had finally reached yours, fingers hesitating at the crisp pages. With a deep breath, he finally opened it.

Your face beamed up at him, standing in between him and Bucky. That particular picture had been taken after their first successful hydra raid with the howling commandos, the three of you full of incomparable joy. Steve felt his eyes brimming with tears as he set the picture aside, moving onto the typed up briefing of your life.

He knew something was wrong before he had even started, the folder much thinner than that of the other members, only a mere few pages detailing your life after the war. His stomach clenched uncomfortably at the sight, yet he continued to read.

She continued to fight with the surviving commandos until the end of the war, where she was heavily decorated amongst her peers. Retiring from the forces, she moved back to Brooklyn, only 5 minutes away from Rebecca Barnes and her new husband. 3 months after retiring from the service she was found dead in her apartment from a gunshot to the head, self inflicted.

Steve felt sick. Utterly, utterly sick. He had left you alone, and without him or Bucky there to help you, you had crumbled. Shoving the folder away from him, he stumbled to his feet, dashing out of his room and towards the common room kitchen to get some water.

He ignored a few worried calls as he walked through the corridors, his mind reeling with the imaginative horrors of your death, conjuring up images of your limp body sprawled lifelessly on the floor -

The thought made him heave, tears gathering in his eyes as he clumsily took a cup from the cupboard and began to fill it up, his usually steadfast hands shaking life a leaf as memories of his youth filled his head.

“I didn't see you here yesterday, you’re always sat here sketching at 4. Were you okay?”

Steve looked up at you in shock, sketching pad lying on his legs as he tried to formulate a sentence.

“Wha - yeah. My asthma was bad is all, ma didn't want me leaving the house. Um - I’m Steve”

“Y/N” you greeted cheerfully, seating yourself next to him on the bench, “I think we’re going to be great friends”

“Steve! Wait up!” you called, running down the street, madly weaving through the throngs of people that lined the Brooklyn streets. Steve had known you for years now, Bucky instantly accepting you into the fold.

Steve watched you approach with a grin, leant against the wall with his hands tucked in his pockets to keep out of the way of the morning rush.

“I thought you had ditched me” he teased, elbowing you lightly in the side, “was waiting for 20 minutes doll”

You ducked your head slightly, your hair falling in your face as you laughed, “I would never Steve - you know that”

With a small nod, he offered you his arm, the two of you walking towards the theatre.

“Is Buck coming?”

“Shouldn’t you know that?” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You blanched, a blush creeping up your cheeks, “I don't have a clue what you’re talking about”

He snorted, falling next to you in line at the ticket booth with a relaxed smile.

“Yeah, because you didn't fall hopelessly in love with him when we were 7″

You punched his arm lightly, stumbling over words as you tried to defend yourself.

“He’ll ask you out any day doll, I’m sure of it”

“Steve! Help me!”

He turned around to see Bucky close in on you, tackling you to the ground before he began tickling your sides.

“Make him stop - ow! James! I’ll get you for this I swear!”

“Nah, you love me too much to hurt me babydoll” Bucky smirked, his eyes shining with admiration as he stared down at your scowling face.

Steve sniggered as he watched you turn beet red, immediately wiggling out from underneath the taller man and making a rushed excuse to leave.

“What was that?”

“You called her babydoll again” Steve smirked, crossing his arms triumphantly, “Just admit it, you like her”

“I don't know what you’re talking about punk”

“Jerk”

“It’s in Europe, they say we might have to join” you said in a low voice, squished between Bucky and Steve in a booth, a shared smoothie sat on the table.

“Someone’s got to stop the Nazis - I think we should help” Steve explained with a small shrug. “They’re bullies, they need to be stopped”

“What do you think Buck?”

“Huh - what? Sorry doll I wasn’t listening”

You sighed, narrowing your eyes at Dot who had been flirting with him from across the diner.

“Just go sit with her if she’s that bloody interesting”

“If that’s alright with you?”

You huffed moodily, Steve answering for the both of you, a scowl forming on your face as you watched him flirt.

“He’s nothing but a skirtchaser” you huffed, taking an angry sip of milkshake, “Just admit it Steve, he sees me as a sister. I’ve known him too long”

“Trust me, he doesn’t look at you like he looks at Becca. He’s just being an idiot right now” Steve said, consoling you, “Besides, they never last more than a week, you’ve got to realise there’s a reason for that”

“I’ll believe it when I see it Rogers”

“Buck you cant go” you cried into his chest, hands fisted into the material of his jacket.

“I’m sorry doll, but you know I have to. I’ll come home, I promise” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hairline as he pulled away, moving to give Steve a hug.

“Look after her while I’m gone Steve, I mean it”

“You know I will”

“And don't do anything stupid”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you” Steve smiled sadly, moving to hold your hand as you waved Bucky off.

As soon as he was out of sight you buried your head in Steve’s shoulder, letting out broken sobs as he held you tightly.

“I didn’t tell him Steve”

“I know”

“What do you mean you’re leaving? You’re being deployed?”

“Yes, well I -” You cut him off with a hug, knowing how much he wanted to get in to the army, until the reality came crashing down.

“What am I supposed to do? What about your asthma? Your pains? I - I should join the nurses, see if I can go with you. You’ll - you’ll need someone who knows how to help you”

“Y/N no, I promised Buck -”

“You cant leave me here alone Steve, I cant be in Brooklyn alone”

“Who are - wait - Steven?”

“It's me”

“But you’re massive! What happened to you!”

“I joined the army” he chuckled, a sad tinge to his voice

“Why’re you sad?”

“They’re not deploying me. They have me on a dance troupe instead, something about selling bonds”

You pulled him into a hug, withholding a sigh of relief, “Well, I guess I’ve found my new job, eh?”

You snuck off stage with Steve, ignoring the cheers of the soldiers as you consoled him, smiling at Peggy as she approached.

“Tough crowd? That audience contains what was left of the 107th -”

“Wait, the 107th?”

Steve was up in a flash, you and Peggy following close behind.

“Sir I just need to know one name, Sargent James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th, please”

“I’ve written more of those letters than I’d care to admit today - I’m sorry but the name does sound familiar”

You choked down a sob as Steve asked what the plan was to save the POWs, your hand absentmindedly clutching his as you tried to ground yourself.

“I cant believe I let you come” Steve breathed exasperatedly, watching as you put your show helmet back on, a determined look in your eye.

“Hey, I’ve been training her, she’s pretty good” Peggy smiled, handing you a pistol and holster, as well as a stolen machine gun.

The plane leered to the side slightly, Howard shouting apologies from the front.

“I’ll have you know I beat your accuracy on the shooting range, Rogers” you teased, attaching the thigh holster as you steadied your breathing, getting ready to drop into enemy territory.

You fought brutally, following Steve’s every move as you made your way through the hydra base.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Get the prisoners out, I’ll carry on looking for Bucky”

“Are you sure -”

“If he sees you here you know he’s just going to act tough, we need to move quickly”

You snorted in agreement, taking the cell keys and splitting off from him, shooting down the last few guards before entering the room.

“Who are you?”

“Here to save your asses”

“I asked you to keep her safe!”

“I did! She’s fine isn't she?”

“She is standing right here! And yes, I’m joining and there’s nothing you can do about it, okay?”

“Doll, I just don't think -” “Bucky if the dame wants to come along, let her come” Dum Dum interrupted, “She saved us back then and she seems capable enough”

You smiled smugly, raising your eyebrow at Bucky as Steve watched on in amusement.

“You’re not gonna back down from this are you? God my ma’s gonna kill me”

You cheered at his acceptance, pulling both Bucky and Steve into a hug.

“The three musketeers back together again”

“I wish it was under better circumstances”

“don't we all”

“Bucky I’m fine! It was the right move, if I hadn't have gone in there then the turret might have taken Gabe and Pinky out!”

“You almost got shot!”

“We’re always almost getting shot!”

“But normally I have eyes on you - I can look out for you” “I don't need you to babysit me James! I can do it!” “Well I cant! I lost eyesight on you and you weren’t answering me doll - I - you can’t do that -“

“You don’t seem that bothered when the others leave your sight! You’re being hypocritical Bucky -“

“I LOVE YOU GODDAMNIT”

Everything went quiet, a shocked gasp escaping your lips at the epiphany.

The men cleared their throats awkwardly, the two of your voices carrying back to the camp. Steve, however, sat back in his seat happily, glad that his friend had finally taken the leap.

Everyone was sat quietly as Jaques fiddled with the radio, trying to hack into the Russian network.

Steve was sat opposite the two of you, watching as you had a hushed conversation. You were sat in between Bucky’s legs, your back leant against his chest. You tilted your head upwards to talk to him, small giggles escaping your lips as he pressed light kisses all over your face.

The rare peaceful moment was cut short as the channel took hold, harsh Russian cutting through the cold air, bringing with it the beginnings of the next mission.

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that we were cornered and I needed to get into the control room!”

“Jesus babydoll, are you trying to give me a heart attack”

“I can handle myself Buck! How many times do I need to prove myself before you realise that? I can fight my own fucking battles”

Bucky cut you off with a growl, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, muttering something about your dirty mouth.

“We’ll be back in a bit Steve”

“Try and keep it down this time” Steve teased, earning a shocked curse from you as you began to scold him.

“Steven Grant Rogers, how very dare you -”

“Stevie you’ll never guess what!”

“Did he do it?”

You turned around to Bucky, a massive grin on your face.

“He knew?”

“Of course he knew, who do ya think helped me pick the ring?”

Delighted, you hugged Steve, thanking him.

“He was getting cold feet, thought it was too soon” Steve teased, “all I had to do was remind him you’ve been in love since you were 14 - he’s been carrying that damn ring around since the last big town”

“I love you big idiots”

Bucky chuckled from behind you, his arms encircling your waist protectively, chin resting on the top of your head.

“Just a few more bases and we can go home” Bucky promised, Steve nodding firmly.

“Just a few more”

You stared blankly at Steve, his words falling on to deaf ears. Blindly, you started towards the edge of the cliff to look at the train track where he had fallen, Steve’s hands preventing you from getting too close.

“He’s not gone. He’s not”

“I’m sorry, I reached for him. He was right there and I-“ Steve’s voice broke off into sobs, your arms mechanically hugging him. You were numb.

“It’s not your fault” you murmured repeatedly, “not your fault”

Only two weeks later, the group had found the main hydra base. Steve had tried talking you out of coming but you needed the revenge, the alcohol not cutting into your grief.

You moved through the base with conviction, unbridled fury coursing through your veins as you cleared corridors of hostiles by yourself, movements brutal and unforgiving.

“He’s on the jet - missiles - I need backup”

You watched as Steve kissed Peggy, a small smirk pulling at your lips, before you continued clearing the way to the control room.

“I’ve got to put her in the water”

“Steve - no. You can’t do that to me, please”

Peggy tried to come up with an alternative route, but Steve was sure it was the only way.

“Y/N I’m so sorry”

As Steve stepped on the platform, one glance at Bucky confirmed what he had to do.

When he had first remembered you, he had cried for hours in Steve’s arms until he eventually worked up the courage to read your folder. He had gone silent for a few minutes before letting out the most heart wrenching sob Steve had ever heard.

He was inconsolable for quite a while afterwards, quite similar to Steve when he had found out, unable to imagine you in a place that dark.

“3, 2, 1”

A hesistant knock sounded at your door, bringing you out of your daydream. You cursed the interruption, reality crashing back down around as you realised you were back in the States and they were gone.

The person knocked again, more firmly this time. You opened it with a fake smile (one you had mastered recently), to be met with a familiar set of broad shoulders.

”Steve?”

Your voice was shaky, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek.

“Oh god I’m going insane aren’t I - you - you died. You’re both dead. Who - why are you doing this? It’s not funny!” You wept, scrambling backwards.

“Y/n-“

You froze at his voice, hands beginning to tremble.

“No, no”

Your crying increased as you pressed your hands to your ears, sliding down the wall until you were hunched over, rocking back and forth slightly.

“You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead” you mumbled.

“Y/n I’m here, it’s me. I’m here doll”

Warm arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace, “shhh. Shhhh”

“Is it - is it really you?” You asked, hands clawing at his shirt, “Steve, Steve it’s you?”

“It’s me, I’m here” he said, voice cracking with emotion.

“But - but - the ice. You crashed Steve. You - you - you died! You both died!” You had to pause, choking on tears, “you both left me. I had to come back here alone, you know I didn't want to be in Brooklyn alone”

“I know, and I’m so sorry doll. I’m so sorry. But I came here to take you home, with Buck and I”

“Oh - I did it didn’t I?”

“What?”

“I’m dead”

“No. You’re not dead, but you did-“ his voice broke off, tears falling from his eyes as he tried to finish his sentence, “I know what you’re thinking of doing”

“Oh”

“I’m from the future, there’s no easy way to put it. The ice froze me, kept me alive. I read it in your notes”

“Bucky’s alive in the future too?”

“The fall didn’t kill him”

You gasped, filling in the gaps yourself.

“Oh god, we - we basically handed him to them!”

“But he’s alive, he’. Please let me save you doll - come back with me. I know it will be different but -“

“Yes, please don't leave me again Stevie I cant - not again - I cant”

The blond just nodded in understanding, helping you to your feet.

“Is there anything you need to get?”

You shook your head, your engagement ring still shining on your finger as you grasped the two sets of dog tags around your neck.

Steve tilted his head to the side questioningly.

“Rebecca wanted Bucky’s, I couldn’t say no to her. I got to keep yours though - you can have them back if you want?”

“No need” he smiled, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand, “Let’s go”

You fell to your knees on a metal platform, Steve’s hand still resting on your shoulder.

“Steve what did you do?”

You ignored the unfamiliar voice as you looked up, eyes frantically searching for Bucky.

“Steve -”

You whipped around at the sound of his voice, “Buck”

You launched yourself at him immediately, the two of you crumbling to the ground in a messy embrace. Tears ran steadily down his cheeks as his hands ran over your figure, as if solidifying that you were really in front of him.

“Your hair is so long now” you giggled tearfully, stroking your hands through the silky strands, “and you have a beard!”

He laughed ruefully, searching your face quickly before burying his face back into your neck.

“I missed you babydoll” he whispered into your skin, tightening his arms around your waist, “I’m so sorry for everything”

Frowning, you cut him off, gently moving his face in front of yours and pulling him into a sweet, tender kiss.

“You have nothing to be sorry for James, nothing at all”

He looked down at your intertwined fingers, eyes drawn to the ring.

“You kept it”

“There was never gonna be anyone else Buck -”

“I know”

Averting your eyes from Bucky for a few seconds, you gestured for Steve to join the hug, your family unit complete.

“The three musketeers back together again” Steve smiled, leaning forwards so all three of your foreheads were touching.

“Punk”

“Jerk”

“Idiots”

2K notes · View notes

wincore · 5 years ago

Text

archenemies | huang renjun

pairing: renjun x reader

words: 8.8k

genre: ‘bad boy’!au, fluff

warnings: language, some juvenile activities, huang “fight me” renjun, he’s way too aries for this to be good

a/n: move aside it’s my emotional support bad boy fic

There are people who are lucky and people who have met Huang Renjun.

Every day is a reminder of all your mistakes, all the sins you’ve committed to have to deal with him. You’ve forgotten what began all the biting comments and burning quarrels, but you’re not going to lose to some quick-tempered punk. In all honesty, however, you’d prefer to never think of him again.

Huang Renjun is just a cog in the machine that controls your life and you’re going to best ignore him till someone upstairs decides to fix that machine. (You wish it were that easy.)

You eye the bruise on your knee with a sour taste in your mouth. It’s a darker shade of purple now, the blues mingling amidst only enhancing the size of it. You sigh heavily and crouch to retie your shoelaces. You’re going to have to slow down now, and not jump over the steps of a ragged staircase. There are few reasons to pass through the playground, when you can take a safer albeit longer way to the subway station.

It’s the shorter way, yes, but there’s more. Is it because of the lack of overenthusiastic students and the loud buzz? Is it because you can walk down the thick metal railing feeling free, arms stretched? Or perhaps, the most important of all—the illegal murals on the walls starting from your school. The art gets removed every time and not two weeks later, there’s a new one. If anything’s more cheerful in colour in this city, you’d gladly pay a pretty penny to see it.

You stand in front of the latest in the collection, eyes studying every stroke of paint. It’s a wolf, made with different colours of the rainbow and with a star gently held in its mouth. You swear its eyes move with the way they stare back at you, deep and alive. You wonder what this criminal artist sees in their head to create things so raw, so full of feeling. You’re always sad when they get painted over.

You take a picture of it on your phone to remember. Your first picture dates to about two years ago, when you accidentally stumbled into the backside of the school buildings. It was the mural of a trophy, more specifically the one your school awarded for academics each year. Except the trophy was made of branches intertwined far too loose and it held a rotting apple instead of a live golden one, greens faded to brown. The single piece of writing was in black—‘here lies our youth’. You had scoffed at it then. Undoubtedly, some sort of edgy loser had spilled ink on those walls. But you had to admit, the mural was unspeakably pretty and you took the picture for your own amusement.

The school, of course, had it removed at soon as they could but you still look at it on your phone once in a while. The look on your principal’s face was glorious when a new one showed up right beside the front gate. A withering rose with thorns made of silver, and a raccoon gazing at it with its head at a slight angle. It made no sense, of course. All of these have been abstract, almost hard to find meaning in but you felt a dash of impertinence in that piece of art. It was meant to piss them off.

And of course, the art continued blossoming. Over the months, they got better and better; every new piece held a different meaning. It became a sort of game for you, to find each work and photograph it before it was criticized by disgruntled police officers and hastily removed. Adults find no importance in these kinds of things; it’s too bright, too attention-seeking and too honest.

You tread carefully along the side of the street now, aware of your aching knee and curse yourself for being so frivolous in movement. Except you aren’t as careful as you think you are, and you bump rather harshly into a lean figure when you were looking elsewhere.

“Sorry! I really am,” the words tumble out of your mouth before you can recognize the boy. But when you do, you grimace, a familiar bitter taste on your tongue. “Renjun. Hi.”

Renjun glares at you as he massages the shoulder you had so carelessly rammed into. The white bones on his dark jacket sleeves and the skull on the back look painted, although you think Renjun couldn’t have made something remotely aesthetic. You await the biting comment he usually sends your way, but he quickly turns away after shooting you another scowl.

“Well, okay,” you tell yourself. “That’s new.”

If it wasn’t clear before, Huang Renjun isn’t the nicest of people you’ve met. With a flaring temper and sharp tongue, he’s on your list of people to avoid, but you cross paths quite literally way too many times. Of course, his entire group of friends is on your list of people to avoid, but it’s Renjun who seems to be fated to run into you every goddamn time. You’ve been assigned to do projects with him at least six times by some sort of treachery, and for all the years you’ve known him, his seat is almost always behind yours. It’s torturous, really. Renjun would be much more pleasant to face if he wasn’t glaring holes into the back of your head all the time.

You pull the vague memory of a shy new boy from middle school and shove it aside—no way can you relate the past and present. At school, he’s only a troubled student, not the type to sugar-coat words and with no restraint on words, he often pisses off people he shouldn’t be pissing off. Honesty is a good feature but not on people like him. Only the bravest of teachers take a liking to him, and the rest of the students are a little in awe of him. I wish I could be that honest, you’d heard one of your friends say. That way, I wouldn’t be afraid of the world. He was mistaken; there’s no one on earth born without fear. Needless to say, your peers like to romanticize him as some sort of cool, tough guy with mystery on his fingertips. You think he secretly likes the reputation. The only times Renjun’s softened is around his band of troublemakers.

You don’t trust reputations but you think Renjun is at least six times worse than what everyone thinks of him. (And you speak from experience.)

You have to admit, though, that you might be a little at fault here. You’ve accidentally spilled hydrochloric acid on him in the chemistry lab and smeared his neck with an obnoxious green in art before, but you don’t think that’s reason enough for Renjun to hate you. Regrettably, there are more cases of misfired actions and you’d rather not dwell on them.

If luck has anything to do in the universe, it loves to mess with you when you’re around Renjun. It’s miraculously always him the victim, and you, an unwitting culprit. Bad luck doesn’t even begin to describe what has bound the two of you. At least, that’s how it began. It’s not like you’re trying to be annoying; the circumstances provide the paint for your already messy canvas and Renjun is left more and more pissed at you at the end of every encounter. You’d feel sorry for him if he weren’t such a prick.

The times you’re not accidentally messing with Renjun, he’s the one with offhanded comments that make your blood boil. You don’t know if it’s payback but it ends up with the two of you neck-deep in hatred for each other yet again. Sometimes, you enjoy the misery you unintentionally give him, like that one time the stray cat you were holding launched itself at Renjun and he ended up with more scratches than what was good (although, he isn’t exactly a stranger to injuries) and of course, the glorious times you were the cause of Renjun’s detention. Sometimes even those aren’t enough to shut his quick mouth and honestly, you’re giving up on ever having an actual conversation with him without being at each other’s throats.

You shake your head for thinking about him for this long. Any thought lasting longer than three minutes about Renjun is a curse.

“(name)!”

Chenle waves at you from a few metres away. It’s always good to see him and you smile; the kid’s a ball of positivity. It’s much better than running into Renjun anyway, for whom you’d have to grit your teeth and brace for another jab, trying not to start another bout of bickering with him. In fact, you find the contrast between Chenle (someone you’ve only ever talked with comfortably and an occasional angel) and Renjun (literally the Devil’s advocate) so sharp that you find it hard to believe they’re friends. The only thing they seem to have in common is living at the dorms, as non-native students.

“Hi!” Chenle greets you from a few feet away as he jogs up to you. “Have you seen Renjun?”

You furrow your eyebrows. You wonder why someone as nice as Chenle would follow around a mean grouch like Renjun.

“Yeah, I just passed him,” you answer, a little piqued by Chenle’s rapid flurry of expressions. Something’s obviously not right.

“Thanks,” he says with a slight bow before he takes off in the other direction.

Now, given your history of unfortunate circumstances with Renjun, you shouldn’t be following Chenle. You shouldn’t. But of course, you’d take this chance to snoop around on Renjun, just watch him speechless as he can’t come up with any response at all. Information, secrets—they give you the upper hand. You’re being petty, sure. It’s good for your health.

You follow the loud footsteps at a safe distance, starting to wonder if it’s worth it. You almost walk into Renjun’s view and scramble back behind the wall. He’s sitting on one of the swings while Chenle pants beside him, trying to catch his breath.

“I told you to stop following me around. You look like some lost puppy.” You hear Renjun click his tongue.

“You’re so mean,” Chenle says with a pout, “Wait, doesn’t that mean I’m cute? Like a puppy? Never mind, don’t you wanna know how far the investigation is going?”

“You don’t have to do that for me,” Renjun responds, looking down at his hands.

Chenle smiles, radiant as ever. “It’s no biggie!”

Renjun laughs, a sound foreign to you. “You’re acting like I said ‘thank you’.”

“Didn’t you?” Chenle grins. “Anyway, you have to be careful for the next week. They’re going to increase patrols near school.”

Renjun scoffs. “Like they’ll ever catch me.”

You narrow your eyes. From all the rumours you’ve heard, Renjun is no stranger to delinquency and other things illegal for high school students. But they’ve only been rumours. This is your chance to get some dirt on him, and you’re certainly not missing it.

Chenle presses his lips together, a flash of worry passing through him.

“Be careful anyway, okay?” he says.

Renjun snaps his head to the side, an annoyed sound leaving his lips. He looks nothing but bothered by the conversation.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

You let out a breath, annoyed with how ungrateful Renjun is. Of course, you don’t expect better from a no-good sociopath, or whatever the hell he pretends to be. You never realized how twisted your ties with Renjun has been this far. You can paint no other picture except of a demon every time you think of him.

“Now scram,” Renjun huffs.

Chenle looks like a kicked puppy and you almost march over to Renjun to reproach him. There is nothing he does that doesn’t get on your nerves. But you maintain your position; it’s not worth wasting your time over.

The twitch of your foot, however, brings you to the boys’ attention. You retreat your head and look forward, your body getting still. Half of you is terrified of Renjun finding you and the other half simply doesn’t care, in fact wanting to shove some choice words at him in case he does find you.

As fate would have it, Renjun emerges from behind the wall and you hit your head back against it. Your heartbeat evens out quick and you face him, not wanting to look stupid. He’s pissed off—you can tell by the knitted brows and bitter twist of his lips.

“I knew you were annoying but eavesdropping?” Renjun rebukes, “Congratulations on getting to a whole new level of weirdo.”

Your ears turn red and you click your tongue. “Whatever.”

“You should stop being so interested in me. Seriously.”

“Me? Interested in you? If anything, you’re the one way too interested in me.”

“I’m not the one eavesdropping.” Renjun stands up straighter, fists clenched. Your cheeks colour.

“And I’m not the one picking fights every day at lunch.”

Your hostilities aren’t unknown to the school, who look partly afraid and partly entertained with your jabs and arguments. You’ve figured they’re more afraid of Renjun and his cold face than they’re afraid of your fights. If only they didn’t think he’s cooler than he actually is. You could roll your eyes.

“You guys sound like children,” Chenle butts in.

“Don’t interrupt me,” Renjun scowls.

“Don’t talk to him that way,” you warn.

“And who are you to tell me that?”

“A decent human being.”

“God, talking to you drains me of energy.” Renjun turns his head to the side, his frown never leaving.

“Looking at you drains me of energy,” you grumble.

With one last look of repugnance, you turn around to make your way back to where you were headed in the first place.

“I don’t know why you hang out with him, Chenle,” you say before you start walking off.

You can see Renjun tense up out of the corner of your eye. For a moment, you think he’ll yell an insult back at you but only the gentle breeze fills your surroundings. You like having the last word, but no part of this exchange was satisfying. You should’ve just gone your way.

The conversation you overheard leaves your mind as quickly as it entered. Soon, you’re on the subway home with a larger basket of reasons to avoid Huang Renjun.

As if high school wasn’t dull enough, being unable to skip class makes your sleepless body worse. The can of coffee you got at the vending machine offers no aid, and when you finally blink at the silhouette of escape, you seize it. You’ve never thought of skipping class as explicitly bad. It’s not good but neither is it an awful thing to do considering the condition of the present-day education system. You’d call it a necessary evil.

At least, that’s the excuse you use for yourself every time. You’ve only been caught once, and that’s because you fell asleep under the bleachers. Detention isn’t new, but it doesn’t put you in good books. You care for your future, and the inconvenience you cause others (unlike some others you know). It’s just that there are certain habits that you can’t help.

You’ve decided to be more careful, of course. You don’t want your mother getting any more upset with you nor do you want to spend more time at school through detention. There’s a prettier world outside these drudging walls.

Somehow, you sneak your way out to the back of the school building. The painting has been removed long since you first saw it, but the place has a sense of mystery to it. You’re drawn in, an optimistic explorer to lands that call. You shake yourself to prevent your imagination from wandering.

The weeds grow unkempt here, in the narrow gaps between walls and there’s messy graffiti (vaguely phallic and highly inappropriate) here and there. It’s not pretty but it’s fun walking through here, better than dozing off in class anyway.

The clicking sound grabs your attention. The thought of anyone else being here doesn’t make you very comfortable, but what could they do? There’s no way they’d land you in trouble without facing the same fate. You shrug and take slow, daunting steps towards the source. You might as well figure out who’s there.

You peek out from behind the concrete wall, only able to see a figure in a dark blue hoodie. Only a moment later, though, your eyes inevitably trail to the artwork on the wall.

It’s half done—without an outline or final touches. The strokes of paint make up what looks like a dragon skeleton, its wings spread out and a hollow look in its eyes. Even so, it’s funny to find it smiling. What stands out, though, is the burst of colour it’s made of. And without any prompt, you know it’s him—the mystery juvenile artist of your town. Why did he have to paint it here, where most people would never see it?

You step out from behind the wall, forgetting your hideout. It’s not like you’ll ever give away this artist’s identity, the only person who has the guts to make this place colourful. You’re about to call out when he turns and you freeze, your face morphing into disbelief.

“It’s you?!” you exclaim. This has to be a joke—what on earth is going on?

Renjun yelps at your appearance, dropping the spray can as he stumbles backward. He stands there horrified, eyes wider than usual and mouth apart in a stagnant pose.

“You’re following me again!” Renjun seems to have found words.

“I’m not following you, you dimwit,” you snapped. “I just happened to be here.”

“At least make up something more elaborate.” He takes a step towards you, still standing on the raised concrete between the walls.

You glare at him. “It’s true. I don’t care what you’re up to. But you’re the guy who’s been making these?”

You point to the painted wall, not wanting to believe a demon made something beautiful.

“And what if I am?” he snarls and steps off onto the ground in front of you. You’d be afraid of the look on his face, but you’ve seen it often.

“I could report you,” you say, almost smiling. You’ve wanted to see him squirm for a long time now.

You turn heel and walk inside, but Renjun runs after you, stopping only when you turn.

“What?” you ask, your smile smug.

He grabs your arm hastily before he pushes you against the wall, his hand gripping your shoulder too tight. There’s no doubt he’s learnt how to intimidate people. There are streaks of blue and yellow on the web of his thumb and parts of his wrists. The corridor is silent without lingering students, almost eerie without the buzz.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone.” He’s looking at you intensely, almost frantic. Of course, holding secrets takes courage.

You laugh, and he furrows his eyebrows, his frown deepening.

“What are you going to give me in return?”

Renjun scowls. He’s about to answer when you’re interrupted by a rather shrill yet familiar voice.

“No making out in the hallways!” your history teacher scolds. “I can’t believe you’re skipping class for this. I would say detention but I’m in a good mood. Jesus Christ, I know you’re young but there’s a time and place for everything.”

He leaves, his grumbling fading out soon but the two of you are frozen. You can see the red that’s flushed Renjun’s skin and you wonder if you look the same. His eyes are wide, his hand still in place against your shoulder. In his haste, Renjun had left no space between the two of you; in fact, if he were to dip his head a little lower, he’d have his lips brushing against yours.

Your cheeks flare up at the thought and you shove Renjun off you.

“That was- we weren’t- that didn’t happen,” you say quickly, your voice a pitch higher.

“That didn’t happen,” Renjun agrees, still flustered, the pink bathing his face and neck.

There’s an awkward silence before Renjun speaks again, a warning tone lacing his words.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“You could add a ‘please’, at least.” The look on his face is way too enjoyable. You wait for him to realize you mean it and the look progresses into something even more fun.

“Don’t tell anyone…pl…uh, please.”

Renjun turns a few shades redder. Life just got far more splendid.

Renjun sighs enough times for Jaemin to take notice. The last thing he wants is for Jaemin to mother him but he needs some answer to his problem (you) too. He could kick the telephone pole beside him right now, but there’s no point in hurting himself. He slumps back against the wall.

“So did you finally ask (name) out? I heard rumours of you two…you know,” Jaemin grins, his tone more than teasing.

“Why the fuck would I ask (name) out?” Renjun tries his best to get his disgust across to Jaemin, though the warmth in his cheeks probably gives his embarrassment away.

“I mean, you’re always talking about them.”

“Because they make my life hell! And I’m not always talking about…them.”

Jaemin laughs and Renjun wants to kick him instead. Jeno breaks into a short laugh beside him but quickly recomposes himself at the glare Renjun sends his way. Have his friends always been this annoying? Donghyuck is thankfully absent and Yangyang’s probably hanging out at the bike garage. His friends like to add salt to cuts and wounds. And Renjun’s only used to the physical kind.

He sighs again, toning down the thoughts. If he thinks, he thinks of you and your ways of making him miserable. The smug look on your face had made Renjun want to set fire to something, preferably you.

“You guys don’t understand,” Renjun whines, “I literally got threatened to be reported to the police. By someone who hates me and will probably do it.”

Jaemin and Jeno exchange a look and it irks Renjun all the more.

“I don’t think it’s that serious,” Jeno says, “Or that (name) will do it.”

“Just talk it out,” Jaemin adds.

That’s nice and all but Renjun thinks they’ve completely missed the point. He’s dealing with the root of all his miseries and he sees no easy solution to this. For all he knows, you could be a demon launched directly from hell to make him pay for his crimes. Renjun shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think that way.

“Whatever,” Renjun sighs, “I’ll figure it out.”

It’s easier to get to solutions when it’s other people’s problems.

Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows and Renjun shoves him playfully, a smile falling into place.

You raise an eyebrow. You made a face when Renjun approached you as you left school but now that he’s piqued your interest, you relax against the wall. There’s no one around at this time in the park.

“You’re really making a deal?” You grin, hoping it gets on Renjun’s nerves.

“Yes,” he responds through clenched teeth. “Just don’t say something too outrageous.”

You press your finger to your lips, squinting your eyes to think. Renjun taps his foot impatiently and you almost consider whacking him across the head to stop the noise. There is no way you’d ever get along with him.

“Be my date for prom.”

“What?!” Renjun sputters.

You burst into a fit of laughter; the look on his face is far more enjoyable than anything you’ve seen so far this year. You like Renjun owing you.

“I’m kidding. I don’t have anything in mind,” you say, “I’ll let you know when I do.”

Renjun groans, drooping his shoulders. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re awful?”

“Multiple people actu—wait, I’m awful?! You’re the one with mean comments, little graffiti man.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snaps. “You’ve been making me miserable ever since I came here—oh, don’t make that face, it’s true!”

You cross your arms and try ignoring Renjun’s look of disdain. After a moment of hesitation, you sigh.

“I never meant to,” you say, voice softer.

Renjun blanks out for a moment and you use it to get back to the dilemma at hand.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you clarify, “But…you have to show me how you make the murals.”

Renjun frowns. “I don’t like that.”

“The alternative is agreeing to do whatever I say whenever I want till either of us dies.”

Renjun throws his head back, a sigh escaping his lips. “Fine. I’ll take you to the next place I work on. You better keep your end of the deal.”

“Of course.”

You smile. As much as you hate to believe the one person you admired for their creations turned out to be a demon, you’re curious. You might as well make the most of this situation while it lasts.

You won’t admit you lost sleep on a Friday night because you were excited to see Renjun spray paint a wall. It’s almost embarrassing, considering the history you have with him but you can’t deny what’s standing so clear in front you. The art you’ve saved in your precious folder in your gallery, its secrets will be laid open soon.

“You know, I heard this place is haunted,” you hum.

Renjun freezes in his path, and you almost bump into him. He turns around with distress across his face, eyebrows knit together.

“Don’t say that,” he says a little too quickly.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re afraid of ghosts?”

“No,” he starts, “Yes. A little bit. Whatever. This place is not haunted.”

You giggle. You didn’t expect Renjun of all people to have that look on his face. You know he’s not a tough guy (or, you refused to acknowledge he could be) but wouldn’t the school love to see him like this. He’s always come off as a little detached, uncaring of the world around him and he’s got scratches and bruises on him like he really doesn’t care which fight he’s picking. Of course the school got to talking about him—the foreign student with a mean temper and a rare smile. (“It gives him a rare charm! His laugh sounds so dreamy…” You rolled your eyes at your friends. “No. He’s just mean. And says mean things. You know. Like a mean person.”)

No one comes into this part of the subway station at night. The line is closed off during these hours, and you wonder how Renjun found out the hidden entrance. It's not easy to search over unchanging walls. The tunnel lights barely work, but the warm glow shoos away any unnerving feeling to leave empty spaces. It’s strange to not see platforms bustling with people; this one offering painted seats and large advertisements to no one now.

“What’re you going to make today?” you ask, making sure to not fall behind.

“Something simple,” he responds, taking the cans out of his satchel. “Maybe a remake of Starry Night.”

That does not classify as simple in your books, but you shrug, taking a seat by one of the tunnel walls.

Watching Renjun work is far different from staring at final products. The way his hands move in a fluid motion, the way he sprays the lines and curves with precision, the way he fills out the spaces with colour—you wish you could record all of it too. The clicking of the cans every time he shakes them is oddly satisfying, so are the full colours that transform the wall. His focus is trained and you maintain your silence, not wanting to break the encased time. You want to say you’re impressed, say it’s breath-taking to watch what he’s doing. But words don’t come easy at the cost of pride.

You tilt your head to focus on the large bruise-like mark on his hand. You thought it was paint, then a bruise but you can’t quite figure it out.

“What’s that?” you ask, tapping your own hand.

“A birthmark.” Renjun pauses momentarily to answer before turning back to his work.

You wonder how you never noticed that before. It’s like a little nebula, fitting for a boy who paints the sky with such adoration.

You don’t know how long you’ve been there but when you check your watch, time’s almost over. A little less than an hour left, you notify Renjun.

You never realized the importance of finishing touches. Neither did you ever think you’d find Van Gogh on subway walls.

An overused painting but there are Renjun’s touches to it—small tweaks in the colour and shape. There are still whirling clouds, bright stars and a sweet crescent moon. The village, though dark, somewhat adds meaning to the comfort of the lights from the houses. You shouldn’t forget why something was painted, Renjun had remarked as you were making your way here. This Starry Night holds no mourning, however.

“It’s lovely,” you say, finally. “I can’t believe you made this in a subway tunnel.”

Renjun looks up from organizing the spray cans back into the satchel. There’s a faint glow across his cheeks and he turns back to his bag quickly. His voice is unsteady when he speaks. “Thanks.”

You take your time searching for an angle with enough lighting to photograph it. Renjun looks at you dubiously at first but he steps aside with an indecipherable expression, his lips twitching at the corners.

The footsteps catch your attention. You share a look with Renjun, a cautious one when they get closer and you immediately move to stand near him.

“If that’s a police officer, I think we’re both going to jail,” you whisper.

“Or if it’s a ghost, I don’t think I’ll know what to do.”

“You seriously think it’s a ghost?!”

Renjun can’t answer for a figure comes into view, who most certainly belongs to higher authorities you’re not supposed to upset. Instead of saying anything, you share a look with Renjun and the two of you take off running. The adrenaline has already spiked into your veins as you follow your companion, who unquestionably knows his ways around these tunnels. You hear shouts from someone who’s most likely a patrolling guard but you keep running till an exit appears and you get out into the fresh summer air. You only feel the breeze for a moment before you have to break into a sprint again. You can tell dawn is on its way with the glint of the sky.

You can still hear trouble behind you as you leave the area and somewhere into your escape, Renjun takes a hold of your hand to keep you from tripping.

You reach the school dorms out of breath, sweat coating your skin and muscles throbbing. The two of you breathe heavily before a smile creeps onto your face and you laugh (or rather, wheeze) despite your lungs aching. Renjun looks at you incredulously and smiles back, the moment almost delicate. There’s a brief second when the two of you realize your hands are still clasped in each other’s and you let go with a start. You’ll brush this under the carpet too, of course.

“I hate running,” Renjun says in between huffs, bent over with his palms on his knees. “But the look on your face…I can’t stop thinking of it.”

Renjun breaks into laughter, the dimple on his cheek showing and making his features all the more pleasant.

You shake your head at him, deciding to let this one slide.

“I’ll treat you to breakfast at Red’s,” you say, unsure why you’re doing this. You don’t have to, but you feel like you should. It’s not every day you see the flicks of an artist’s wrists.

“Shouldn’t you get home? You live pretty far,” he says.

“It’s only a ten-minute subway ride,” you shrug, “How do you know I live far anyway? Does this mean you’re the one stalking me? Hm?”

“You’ve said you live far before, dumbass,” Renjun replies, his ears turning red.

You grin at him, hoping Red’s has opened for breakfast.

And just like that, you find you’ve both cast aside your differences. Everyone who knows you are in awe when you and Renjun simply shrug at the idea of being partners for a project. Only Jeno and Jaemin look smug when you laugh at what Renjun says, while Donghyuck and some of your friends leave teasing remarks. Your accidents have decreased by a decent amount and Renjun no longer glares holes into the back of your head in Calculus and Geography. In fact, you’ve been having civil conversations (save for light insults and jokes like between friends) and although something has changed, it doesn’t feel odd at all, like this was meant to be.

You don’t miss any opportunity to trail behind Renjun every time he comes up with something new to paint. It’s not like he keeps it secretive enough from you and although he acts annoyed, you think he’s glad to not venture into creepy, abandoned places alone. He’s a little bit of a coward, but a brave artist nonetheless. You’re lucky that more often than not, it’s a clean getaway (though Chenle’s snooping around the police station helps). Somewhere along the way, you shoved off your unnecessary hatred for Renjun. The night never ages when you’re together.

You sit atop the ledge of an apartment rooftop with Renjun beside you. There’s a bunch of obsolete items stashed around the small space—an old vending machine, partly broken flower vases, a rusted bicycle and more—some entertained by the overgrown vines cradling them. Renjun’s finished painting the floor of the roof, a sunflower field with vague meaning and a tiny Moomin hiding in between. This building will be gone soon and no one would find this one easily, yet he painted here. You don’t understand why he works on things that don’t last.

The building is too short for you to view the skyline; it’s quite dazzling to look at during night-time but it’s morning now. Thus, you only have the sky’s pink clouds and Renjun to keep your company interesting enough.

“I mean, come on. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought this way,” Renjun continues rambling, “If the universe doesn’t give a shit about you anyway—why shouldn’t you do whatever the hell you want? Our lives are too small when you compare it to stars and planets. And even they don’t matter in the end!”

“Optimistic nihilism is not an excuse to wreak havoc, Renjun,” you sigh. The breeze is finally picking up on the rooftop. Empty apartment buildings are hard to find these days. Of course, you’ve only learnt that because of Renjun.

Renjun rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you’re an angel, you know?”

You feign a shocked expression, hand flying over your heart. “But you’re the one in black, Mr. Huang Renjun. And I’m the one in a white sweatshirt, looking as angelic as I can be.”

Renjun drops his head to rest his cheek against his palm, the look of distaste across his face.

“You have no idea how miserable you made me all these years,” he huffs. “I remember when you dropped the pottery mud on me in sixth grade—you ruined my figurine and I never got to wear that shirt again!”

“Why do you remember what I did to you in sixth grade?”

“You expect me to forget tha—you don’t look very apologetic either.” He narrows his eyes at you.

“I swear I never meant to do any of that!” you defend, shaking your head profusely, “Maybe a little sometimes. But mostly never.”

Renjun breathes out, a defeated sigh tumbling out. He turns back to the sunflowers on the roof, a brief flash of respite passing his features. The following moments are coloured with silence and you lean back onto your arms. You can see the beautifully simple tattoo of Saturn on his left wrist peeking out of his sleeve. Renjun doesn’t like showing it to people often, and it’s not very easy to spot it either with his love for jackets and long sleeves. He said he wasn’t really thinking when he got it, just thought it was pretty. You think it’s just like him.

If you were to reach out right now, you could run your thumb over the ink, feel the skin. Your face turns warm. This is not supposed to be the feeling you get. You must not think the words, or you’ll accept them for reality.

You’ve started thinking this lately, but Renjun isn’t a bad person. He might be too honest for his own good but he has a strong sense of right and wrong, something your class is not wrong for admiring. He’s said he wants to be brave one of these passing days, (“I don’t want to run all the time. Just from the cops maybe. And anyone with a weapon.” “Glad to know you’re not going to jail any time soon.” “Don’t look so disappointed.”). You think he already is brave for being true to himself. He’s not always impulsive either, and he’s surprisingly kind often. He’s clever with his words, not just annoying. You realize you’ve seen only a shadow of him before. You feel guilty for having been so harsh.

“It’s funny,” he says, a small smile on his face, “People who know usually question me why I do this first. You haven’t questioned me yet.”

“Why do you do this?”

“I don’t know.” Renjun shrugs. “I just wanted to shove my feelings somewhere, I guess. You know. Choose your own sin, that kinda thing.”

“That’s nice,” you say, your smile mirroring his. “You don’t have to show off, Mr. Artist.”

Renjun laughs, his eyes twinkling with the stars. He doesn’t have to look like that. You look away for fear of delving deeper, something unknown gripping you. There’s an uncomfortable feeling choking you, its dark hands constricting around your neck. This isn’t good. You must not think the words, the feelings or they will become reality.

You get up suddenly.

“You think I can jump across to the opposite building?” It’s no use. The red must have started blossoming over your neck and ears already. No matter; you have to run away from this feeling somehow.

“What the fuck?”

“Treat me to ice-cream if I succeed,” you say, the adrenaline rushing in. Much better than whatever the hell had gripped you. The gap’s not that large; if you get enough momentum, you can leap onto the building’s ledge. You can run away.

Renjun stands up in haste.

“Did you get hit on the head?” He takes a step towards you. “Why the hell do you think this is a good idea?”

“Doesn’t hurt to try.”

Before you can step on the ledge, however, Renjun’s hand shoots to grip your wrist, the touch burning your skin.

“Don’t.”

Oh, you definitely know what this feeling is. You’re not sure what the outcome will be, especially when a mere touch to the wrist can bloom red all across your skin, free so many butterflies in your chest and stomach. You’re almost ashamed of yourself, yet a voice inside you is smug; it was bound to happen. Renjun pulls you down off the ledge and lets go.

“Oh, well. The last one to reach the ground treats ice-cream!” you declare before you rush to the door at lightning speed, and swing it open to exit. You don’t want your feelings written all over your face for him to read.

“No- what?! That’s cheating!” Renjun scrambles behind you, his voice full of annoyance, but a different kind than before. You wish it hadn’t changed, but you’re also not quite complaining.

Renjun hates this feeling more than he’s ever hated you. In fact, he can’t remember the feeling of hating you anymore. He wonders if it’s okay to have these thoughts about you.

Renjun spots your figure on the couch by yourself. Jaemin’s parties have two kinds of people—people drunk out of their minds and people only here by peer compulsion. He can’t say he’s ever seen you at parties before, maybe once or twice, not that he’s cared—he only wanted to avoid you then. He fidgets with the yellow sleeves of his sweatshirt; he doesn’t usually wear something this bright but he’ll blame you once more. He wishes you hadn’t been so elusive lately; a part of him feels weary without you and a part curses him for that.

Renjun’s heart leaps to his chest when he sits beside you, only to be greeted with a sweet smile and flushed cheeks. Stop looking at me like that, he wishes he could think the words into existence. There are scores of emotions tangled up inside him with no way to untie the multicoloured knots. It takes a while to calm his heartbeat, and even then, it’s unnatural. He might as well tell you at this point—tell you that he likes you, that he’s wanted you more than he’s ever wanted anyone. He read somewhere that summer is a good time to let out your feelings although he can’t be sure of the credibility of the article.

You’ve always been a problem for him, this stupid, annoying problem he wanted to get rid of as soon as he could. And yet, you’ve given him the sweetest picture of all. He doesn’t usually play this game—in fact, he’s never done anything like this before. He feels embarrassed every time he drifts past his daydream, wanting you to kiss him, caress his cheek and run your fingers through his hair. These thoughts feel more illicit than anything he’s ever done. Renjun feels weak in the head when you tug at his sleeve.

“Hi,” you greet, still smiling. Renjun desperately wishes you wouldn’t look at him like that.

Just confess, the voice inside his head tells him. Get it out of your system.

“Hey.”

However, the words halt on his tongue. This is the voice he’s been saying no to ever since you looked at him with wonder, with stars tugging your smile by those subway walls.

He needs to swallow his pride to confess— but just what is he doing? This is not what was supposed to happen, this is not something he’d ever imagine a few months ago. He’s practised the words, but he can’t look you in the eye. He can’t tell you, oh no. It’s easier to run away.

You tilt your head, your gaze soft and Renjun feels a sigh leave his mouth.

“I like you,” he blurts out. “Yes. I, uh, l-like you. That’s what I meant to say- what I’ve been meaning to say. For a while.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, “That’s very sweet of you.”

You burst into a fit of giggles. Renjun is only slightly baffled as he examines your condition. Out of all the ways he’d imagined you reacting to his confession, this was not one of them.

“Are you- are you drunk?!” he asks, the realization dawning upon him. You reek of alcohol, he finds with a sniff.

“What? No. Go back to being sweet. What were you saying again?”

Renjun places his face in his hands and groans. Not only did his horribly timed confession go unheard, but also he’ll undoubtedly have to carry your drunk ass back home. He definitely does not want your family finding him with you in this state.

“How much did you drink?” Renjun asks with a grimace, helping you up.

“Renjun. You’re adorable,” you say, wrapping your arms around his torso. He freezes immediately, resisting an urge to push you off him. This is strange, the feeling is strange. Renjun’s cheeks have risen a few degrees, his chest blooming with electricity and his ears will blow steam if he doesn’t do anything soon.

“We need to get you home,” he says, the syllables distinct.

“How could I go home?” you whine, wrapping your arms tighter around him.

Renjun resists another urge to smack you over the head. His heartbeat is frantic at this point, and he wants nothing more than the sweet relief of death to free himself from you. Besides alcohol, he can smell strawberries, possibly from your shampoo, and a dash of fabric softener. You’re warm and comfortable, annoyingly so. If you stay like this, he might not be able to bear the thought of you moving away from him.

Of course, Jeno has to find the two of you like this, your head in the crook of his neck and arms wrapped around him as his own balance you. In the middle of the living room, you look like young lovers who have forgotten the rest of the room, the world. There are people all around, yet no one cares.

Better Jeno than the others, Renjun thinks when he meets his friend’s eyes, although Jeno can be equally teasing.

“Help me get them home,” Renjun says, pulling you apart and holding you steady. You let out a complaint that he ignores.

“You could take them to the dorms,” Jeno offers. “It’s nearby.”

“What?!” Renjun didn’t realize his pitch could rise that high. “Can’t they…stay here?”

“The rooms are occupied. Besides, your roommate’s on vacation, right? You can take the top bunk,” Jeno suppresses an amused smile. Renjun hates him looking so smug.

“Okay,” he says, “I’ll…do…that.”

“Need help sneaking (name) in?” Jeno has a teasing lilt to his voice.

“No, I’m good,” Renjun responds quickly. Jeno won’t let him live, will he?

In the end, with much difficulty, Renjun actually manages to sneak you in and with even more difficulty, he gets you to sit on the bed.

“I like you like this,” you say with a laugh. “I wish you’d always be this nice. And loving. And nice. Everyone would love you more. Not as cool guy Renjun. But sweet guy Renjun. I love sweet guy Renjun.”

Renjun sighs heavily. “If I gave all my love away like that, do you think people would care about me for me?”

He shakes his head. There’s no way he’s having a coherent conversation with you right now.

“I would,” you respond, your voice meek.

Renjun ignores your answer; you must be too drunk to think right now. With a hurried goodbye, he turns off the lights and clutches his heart tighter to bed.

You clear your throat, trying desperately to distract yourself from certain memories of last night and the fact that you’re currently in the school dorms, likely in Renjun’s room.

The afternoon has bled well into wisps of the evening, and you look around more nervous than ever. You remember clinging onto Renjun a little too tight, your hands around his waist—it’s the first time you’ve touched him save for the occasional swatting at his hands or punches to the shoulder. What would the school think of you two warmed up so close to each other like that—what would Renjun think of your stupid drunk self holding on to him like that?

Or even worse, what if you said something? What if you let slip something important at a time when words don’t mean as much?

The door opens and you flinch, turning your head to find the object of your afflictions. Renjun blinks for a moment or two before he sits beside you. He’s wearing a thin jacket; it’s not cold outside but he prefers those anyway. There are a gash and a bruise on his cheek and you wonder which obviously larger and stronger opponent he pissed off again.

“I thought you’d never wake,” Renjun says, nodding to emphasize. “That’s my bed, by the way.”

“Who’d you get into a fight with?” You shift closer, narrowing your eyes.

Renjun sighs, making a face. “Some idiot. Why does that matter?”

“Hold that tongue of yours for once,” you chide.

He heaves a noise of annoyance. “What are you, my mom? I let you sleep here all of last night and most of today—and the first thing you do is complain. I could’ve left you at Jaemin’s house, you know?”

“See! That’s what I’m talking about—you have no control over what you say sometimes,” you state, an old feeling bubbling up. “You pick a fight with everyone.”

“No. Everyone picks a fight with me and they do that because they hate the truth.” He pauses to let his frown show in his eyes. “Are you telling me I shouldn’t tell people to stop being rude to waitresses or tell the other kids to stop whining about not doing anything? They know the truth too.”

“When will you realize there are things more important than the truth?” Your voice is louder already. But you don’t think you mean the words; they’re just cowardly, from a person too afraid to lay their feelings out in the open.

“So you’ve decided to be this way then,” he says, scowling already. This is an old scene alright.

“I’m just telling you what might help—God, never mind,” you say, standing up quickly, “This what I hate about you. You’re just- there are just so many things I hate about you.”

No, you don’t mean any of this but habits die slow.

Renjun looks up at you silently. The sunlight makes its way to his cheek, caressing it with golden hues. His hair brushes against his browbone, the sun apparent in the brownish loose strands. The gash on his cheek is unbecoming but if anything, it highlights the rosy hues of his lips and nose. You’ve never been this infuriated yet fascinated with someone before. Your hands twitch, head still clouded with unfamiliar thoughts and a hangover. You wish you hadn’t snuck a look at his lips.

“Go on then,” he whispers, eyes flickering down for barely a moment, “Tell me what you hate about me.”

Do you take the risk? You hold the fragile thread against your thumb, a small tug required to snap it off.

You pull him up by the lapels of his jacket into a kiss, his lips rough against yours. The force of your pull sends the two of you stumbling backward three steps before your lower back hits the side of the study desk. You hold your position, your shaking hands bunching up the cloth you tightly hold.

When he doesn't respond, you feel a tremor of panic—maybe you shouldn't have been so hasty, maybe you figured wrong. You pull away with a start, an apology popping up on your lips and warmth across your face. But in the brief stretch of a moment, Renjun slides one arm around your waist and the other against the table for balance, his torso relaxing as he pushes against your lips again to further the kiss.

When you pull away, Renjun’s face is a sweet shade of pink. He looks embarrassed for a moment before he furrows his eyebrows, lips curving to a frown.

“You shouldn’t go around crashing your lips onto other people’s,” he scolds.

Your face flushes hot and you stumble over words to excuse yourself.

“Sorry,” you say, “I should have asked.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” he mumbles. “You’re lucky I wanted to kiss you the moment I entered this room.”

You feel another rush of warmth to your cheeks. Renjun is no different, face splashed pink from his words and your actions.

Renjun dips his head and you press your lips against his in another kiss, this one much calmer as a promise, the feeling already getting familiar. Maybe fate had different plans all along and the two of you misunderstood. Or perhaps, you’ve fallen into something fate forgot to acknowledge, perhaps fate grew tired.

Renjun pulls away first, lips parting into an open smile. Your heart swells, all the contempt inside driven out.

“I was wrong,” you confess, “I was wrong about you- about a lot of things, actually.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same boat,” he says softly.

You bury your head against his neck again, the smell of summer wind and green tea hand cream wafting in. You can’t quite describe it but you’ve grown used it, the scent and the warmth. You’ve grown used to Renjun as a person now and not as the bane of your existence.

“You know, I actually wouldn’t mind,” Renjun says.

“What?”

“Going to prom with you.”

You laugh. He looks away bashfully, the dimple appearing once more and you know right then you’ve been wrong in cursing fate—this is a gift that took time, one you unwrapped late. He’s only occasionally timid, not looking to pick a fight and you want to cherish moments like these. You don’t have to say things to mean them with him; you don’t have to hold his hand to feel warmth. Whatever had been set up for you, the two of you have finished it and as your mother says, only once in a blue moon does fate betray its course.

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cutegirlmayra · 4 years ago

Note

I love your classic sonamy prompts. Can you do one where Modern and Boom Sonic meet Rosy and modern and boom Amy are off to the side watching their sonic's play with their younger self? Just all around sweet and wholesome fluff

(art is not mine! (x) found it on google and it linked me to this twitter.)

Also, see this prompt talked about in Pajama Blogs Ep. 1 (x) Timecode start: 4:49-8:34.

PROMPTS ARE OFFICIALLY ON SHUTDOWN! Do not send any prompt requests! (Asks and art submissions are still okay) Thank you!

Prompt:

In a twist of fates, or rather--dimensions, we find our heroes stuck in a ‘in-between’ world where a unseen villain seems to be pulling the strings!

Forced to work together, the Sonics must find their friends who are being taken and captured for their ‘time-energy’, which sucks away their dimension’s ‘aura’ to fuel the villain's dastardly schemes.

Upon finding most of their friends, having funny moments to comment about the different dimensions, the Sonics left to find their last friend unfound.

No Amy Rose had been found at the time, and with time on the line, the heroes darted towards the first hint they had at finding them.

Classic Sonic was the first to look and see Classic Amy, also referred to as Rosy, being trapped and drained of her time-energy.

The Sonics rushed in to save her, but were pretty amazed at her youthful energy and how for only a moment was scared until seeing Classic Sonic and being rescued.

It wasn’t long before Rosy led them to the other Amys, who were also captured but in mid-escape plan by the time the Sonics got there. However... it was almost too late.

The villain had absorbed enough time-energy to permanently alter reality and mess up every time into one, jumbled timeline!

To avoid this, everyone pulled their remaining time-energy together and with the help of three Super Sonics, they defeated the bad guy.

However, the Tails’ stated that it would take time to ‘leak’ out the stored time-energy the villain had stolen, and while everyone was standing around...

“She really is a puzzling mystery.” Modern Sonic smiled, putting a hand up to his chin and leaning down to watch Rosy jump around and continue to shower Classic Sonic with affections. “It’s like we don’t even exist.” Modern Sonic leaned up and shrugged to Boom Sonic, “But I guess that’s not a bad thing...”

“Yet.” Boom Sonic winked, and then bent down with a twinkle in his eyes, “I just can’t believe she was so spunky as a kid! In my timeline, she looked a little different. But boy! Her fashion sense hasn’t this been this dire!” he laughed, but as he did so, Rosy turned around, puffed up her cheek, and dashed into him. “Ah!”

He fell backwards as Modern Sonic snickered into his hand, squinting one eye at him being caught. “Watch it there, buddy. She’s a lot more feisty in this dimension too.”

“Pah! No kidding! But does that ever change?” He teased, also trying to wiggle and lift the upset little hedgehog off of him so he could get up. “Aww, it’s hard to stay mad at that mad face.” he gave her a signature Sonic smile, charming her instantly as she stopped swiping her fists at him and instead, melted as her eyes drooped.

He set her down and dusted himself off, but Modern Sonic noticed something was off.

“Uhh...” He gestured to around his neck, then shrugged.

“Huh?” Boom Sonic looked down and then back to Rosy, seeing she had swiped his bandanna and was using it as a wrap around her head. “Hey!” he waddled like you would do if you were chasing a child as she giggled and raced away from him, but Modern Sonic thought it best to let them play, putting his arms over his head and just enjoying the tom-foolery.

“I forgot how much trouble she could be.” He seemed to say that with a nostalgic affection in his tone, before looking to see Classic seemed uneasy.

“What's up, little man? Not liking the attention taken off you for a change?” He joked, but was surprised to see Classic narrow his eyes to thin slits, watching carefully as though thinking Boom was some-sort of danger to Rosy waiting to happen.

Modern just sweat-dropped, before Rosy quickly bounced up to him and held her arms out, as though wanting him to assist her in getting away.

“Oh no, don’t look at me.” He took his arms away from behind his head, an awkward teardrop forming as Classic, although dismissive at first to Rosy, was now acting like a tsundere guard dog that Modern didn’t want to annoy further. However... her bottom lip trembled as she turned to a fast approaching Boom, who stopped briefly in front of them to clutch his legs and act as though he was getting tired, but it was clear he was letting her get away.

There was something fun about being sweet to her, and Modern couldn’t help the light tugging on his heart when she reached down to his socks and pulled lightly, as though really milking her cute little girl phase to get him to help her out.

He sighed, missing this personality somewhat and unable to say ‘no’ to a little girl... no matter how rascally she was to him in the past.

Besides, this was another dimensional Rosy... but the nostalgia got the better of him.

“I guess you would turn to your hero... in your moment of great need.” he kid, as though exasperated by her antics though he scratched the side of his head, then bent down as she jumped on his head.

“H-hey!” Boom Sonic pointed accusingly, “This is enabling!”

Modern just gave an apologetic smile and shrugged, “She’s very convincing.” as Rosy gripped the sides of his quills, and like a horse’s saddle, straddled his quills to have her feet between them. Secure and tight, she was ready to take flight!

As Modern Sonic took off and Boom Sonic chased, though now it truly was a race, Modern and Boom Amy stood on the sidelines... squatting in their defeat at grabbing their Sonics’ attentions at all.

They sighed in unison, rotating their heads from one hand to another as they slouched and stared.

“Why doesn’t he give in to me like that anymore?” Modern whined, before not being able to help the whimsy smile she gained from seeing her younger self so happy. “He’s actually playing, I never have seen that side of him with me before... unless he wants something.” she seemed to snap into annoyance in a heartbeat, but then melt again as she sat fully to the ground, gliding her hands against the ground as she waited. “I’m still waiting for my time-energy and pretty weak from our endeavor to escape, but look at them! Treating her like she’s the special one... hmph!” Her slight jealousy was to herself though, she didn’t complain all that much...

However...

“H-hey...” She worriedly turned to the fighting spirit building in Boom Amy, seeing the fires almost manifest visibly in her as she watched the Sonics.

Classic had actively tried to follow the Sonics and get Rosy off Modern’s head, so now it was a game of ‘keep-away’ with two who were ‘it’. Modern was enjoying himself, even quoting Eggman a few times and taunting the other Sonics as they chased Rosy for different reasons. Classic seemed to just want the other two to back off her and leave her alone, but the other two were having too much fun with hearing her laughter and even letting her steer Modern around like a race car.

They were doing some incredible stunts, jumping off of ramps and doing flips in the air, almost making it look like Rosy was performing for a motorbike competition.

“He never got to see me small...” Boom finally muttered, “He’s never acted so interested in me before...” she lowered her head into her withdrawn knees, as Modern Amy sweat-dropped a bit.

“Trust me, he wasn’t this way with me as a kid either...” She tried to relate, but it was hard to watch the two Sonics and knowing they were actively being ignored.

Suddenly, Boom managed to swipe Rosy off of Modern’s head, and unwrap the bandanna around her head. “Ah-ha! Victory!” he made the peace-sign as Modern gave him a thumbs up.

“Nice one!” he complimented.

Boom was so tall that he was easily able to move Rosy out of Classic’s endless jumps to put her down, but Boom was distracted for a brief moment when he looked to see Boom Amy huffing and puffing in grumbled agitation.

Then her face turned sorrowful, and she looked away after getting flustered from meeting his gaze...

That’s when Classic socked him in the gut, having the air escape his lungs and Rosy fall from his grasps.

Classic took her and walked a bit away from his other dimensional selves, placing her down and then proceeding to actively ignore her again when she wagged her tail and tried to get his attention again.

He folded his arms and looked away, as though not amused by her antics, but Modern decided it best to leave the two be.

Boom shook himself off from the pain and raced over to Boom, “Yo! Have you seen that dimensional younger you, yet? She’s a hurricane!” he teased, “But I think she’s a lot like you, a tease.”

“A what!?” Boom immediately shot up from the ground like a rocket, “She’s not even in the double digits yet!” She argued, but Boom just pulled away a bit.

“Calm down, calm down, I meant she likes to cause trouble for our attention sometimes, no biggie.” he then realized the error in his words and continued to try and recover, “L-look at her, though! Didn’t you say you wore glasses when you were small? She may still need them...”

“Yooouu..!” She brought out her hammer.

“Ah!” he jolted in spot and dodged as though expecting the throws, but all Boom Amy had to do was hold her hammer out for him to start dodging up in the air, though she wasn’t doing anything.

She looked to Modern with a look that was so done with her existence, but Modern just weakly smiled and got up too, walking over to Modern Sonic.

“That other, taller Sonic, seems to think my younger self is quite the rage.” she puffed her chest up a bit, gloating a bit. “Makes you wonder how he missed the fact that she grows up to be such a cutie, huh?” She winked to Modern Sonic who was still focused on the interaction between Classic and Rosy, who still was playing awkward to her advances.

“Some things don’t change.” He turned back to Modern Amy, grinning from ear to ear as though not having a single worry about what he was about to say, “You’re still a wild little girl to me!”

“Ah!” she swatted a hand at his shoulder, making him flinch back, looking hurt.

“H-hey! What’d I say?”

“Ohhh!!!” She summoned her own hammer.

“Ah! Amy! W-wait!” He began to move back, then full-blown ran when she charged him, “Was it something I said!?”

Classic and Rosy stopped to watch the strange interactions from the two different dimensions, however...

They were the same. Instead of Rosy being chased after, Sonic was frantically racing away as the Amys chased instead.

She then got an idea and pulled out her own Piko Piko Hammer, bouncing her eyebrows at Classic who gulped hard and sweated with a slight tremble.

He lifted a leg up... and zapped away in a bolt of blue.

She giggled, thinking she liked this game better, and raced along after him in what would become an endless game of chase~<3

#sonic prompt #modern sonic #boom sonic #classic sonic #sonamy #classic sonamy #different dynamics of sonamy lol #boom!sonamy #sonamy boom #rosy the rascal #classic amy rose #sonamy prompt #classic sonamy prompt #boom!sonamy prompt #sonamy boom prompt

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heartwoodventures · 4 years ago

Photo

Heartwood Hatchingtide!

A mysterious note had been posted on the company’s bulletin board, beckoning members to meet at Mih Khetto’s Amphitheatre for a Hatchingtide celebration! But beyond explaining that the event was to ‘help the youth,’ details were scarce. Who’s organizing this? And what activities will happen? You’ll have to go to the amphitheatre to find out.

And the place is absolutely decked out in egg-related decorations! But most prominent is the large and ‘in charge’ chicken, dancing mad on the road leading to the center. They wave at you two, and then continue to jig.

Intrigued by the odd note, Aislinn made the time to wander her way over to the amphitheatre. Whatever was going on, her curiosity got the better of her and she needed to find out.

Cravendy What is an egg’s least favorite day of the week? Fryday! Happy....friday! xD )) Cravendy I inflict pain unto myself everytime I make a pun ))

Riylli shuffled her way through the city, keeping her head down and trying not to attract attention as she made her way to the Ampitheatre. Whatever dour mood she was in would be briefly erased however as soon as she took in the dancing chicken that appeared to be waiting for her. "Er... Cravs..? Is that you..?"

"Twelve save us." Aislinn said, shaking her head as a smile worked its way across her lips. She paused a few seconds more to watch the chicken in its maddening jig, a laugh bubbling up from her throat. "You know, I'd bet gil on it."

Riylli (I love the way our heads move watching her dance Riylli (getting in on the beat Aislinn ((We're mesmerized))

Aislinn - She waves to the chicken. "So what's all this about helping out at Hatchingtide?"

“Cravs? Who’s that?” The chicken momentarily stops dancing and, somewhere in the distance, a kid groans in disappointment. Seeing that, the chicken slumps, but begins to groove once more. “I...I am none other. Huff. Than. Chickendy Hound! And it was I that called you out today on a mission...most. Huff. Important.”

Aislinn's smile widens. "Sounds like you've been dancing there quite awhile, Chickendy Hound." she noted in amusement as she plays along.

Riylli staaaaaaaaaaaared, bewilderment on her face as she tried to wrap her head around exactly what was happening here. That was definitely Cravs. Even without the giveaway of the name, the only other one in the company that tall was Rising, who Riylli was particularly sure would not be able to dance like the chicken was after the previous night. "Er... And what's that then?"

“Ay shite, I’ve been dancin’ for bloody who knows ‘ow long...” Cravs grumbles, and at that very moment a mother and child strolls on by. Cravs stiffens and clears her throat. “I mean. I can dance all day and all night! But now, the egg advocates would have us take care of another chore-I mean, thing of utmost importance. And that...is collecting eggs!”

Riylli pauses her judgmental staring to instead watch the mother and child pass, seemingly getting distracted for a moment before turning back to the chicken and letting out a sigh. "...Right. We gettin' paid for this or what?" She asks coldly, apparently back to whatever bad mood she had been in before meeting Chickendy

In contrast to Riylli's foul (fowl) mood, Aislinn seems to be enjoying this all too much. She makes a poor attempt to hold back any more laughter and nods to the passing mother and child. She couldn't begin to imagine how hot a suit like that must get. "Aye, of course. Harsh task masters, these egg advocates."

“No good deed goes unpaid! Which is to say, no, we’re not gettin’ bloody paid for this. I asked.” Cravs crosses her arms and I swear, you could see her chicken hat’s eyes furrow in grumpy anger. “Though they said we can keep any extra eggs, which ye can probably sell if yer strapped for cash.”

"....ye -do- get a free chicken suit though. That count for anythin'?"

"How, exactly, did they talk you into this, then?" Aislinn wryly asks.

Aislinn leans forward a bit and lowers her voice. "Did you lose a bet?"

Riylli let out another long sigh. "I hate this damned city so much..." She mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose as she seriously considered just turning around right then and there

"Ch-chickendy needs no reason to spread cheer in the world!" It's unclear if that's the whole truth, half, or not at all.

Riylli shot Cravs a glare, "Oy Chickendy, you better give me a better reason than that. How'd the scary pirate lady that can't even apologize end up in a situation like this?"

That earns a doubtful, though amused noise from Aislinn. "Yeah, if Chickendy is anything like Cravendy I'm not sure that math works out." Nevertheless, she shrugs a shoulder. She needed a break from building the prototypes at any rate, it was why she wandered out in the first place. "Alright then, I'm in for a bit of egg collecting." paused. "Chicken eggs, right?" she asked, deciding she better double check.

“HEY. I’m not so cold that I’d refuse to do some good in the world! That, and I didn’t say no right away. These folk sense weakness and twist yer arm until...” Cravs hears something approach from behind and freezes up.

Aislinn ((I'm going to hear this song in my sleep)) Riylli ( PA PAYA Cravendy pa paya! :D ))

An egg advocate comes over, peppiness turned dangerously past the dial. They drop a box containing chicken costumes in front of Riylli and Lin and - did they wink somehow? “You must be joining our friend here in setting up! A thousand thanks for choosing to spend your time spreading the festivities!”

Riylli shot the newcomer a glare so powerful that it could probably be tried as physical assault. "You have to be joking. You want me to wear that shite too?"

Aislinn eyes the chicken suit that was so unceremoniously dropped in front of her. "Wait...you were serious about the costume?" she looked the egg advocate over. The maniacal exuberance and zippered up smile a touch zealous. "Why the suits? We're collecting eggs, right?"

Aislinn ((It's all fun and games until you get stuffed in a chicken suit))

“Of course! The kids -love- it, and it’s said that wearing this’ll help you collect the eggyest of eggs! Chicken eggs!” The advocate unpacks the box’s contents, finds a suit fitting Riylli’s size, and thrusts it upon her without a moment’s hesitation. This person is awfully pushy, with all the strength of a traveling salesman who's got their foot in the door. “Now now, no fussing and get cracking!”

Cravendy laughs weakly.

Aislinn suddenly finds her arms weighed down in a similar fashion. She narrows her eyes slightly over the bulky armload, very likely imagining an unseemingly kind of violence that would wipe the peppiness right out of the pushy advocate. But then she cuts a glance to the still dancing Cravendy and merely sighs. The Seawolf was definitely in dire straits. "Fine. But we bring you back eggs that are eggier than other eggs and then ALL three of us are off the hook."

Riylli is forced to accept the chicken suit into her hands, blinking as her stare went from it, to Cravs, to the advocate. She wondered if it would be possible to evade capture from this deep inside the city if she were to commit some sort of crime right about now. Her attentions thankfully turn back to Cravendy. "The next time we go out drinking, you're paying for every round I feel like havin'" Riylli stated her demands, figuring it would be in everyone's best interest to ignore the advocate

The advocate squeals with glee and points to the west. There, you’ll find the chicken coops, the eggs, the hens! Best of luck! And as the three of them make their way over, the moment Cravs is a safe distance away from the advocate she slumps over. “Thank ye both...that person is frighteningly stubborn. Ye don’t want to know.”

Riylli lets out an absolutely exhausted sigh. "Figured you wouldn't be doin' this if you weren't in some sorta trouble... One day we're gonna have to teach you how to talk to people though." She muttered as she shoved the mask on over her head.

Aislinn stares at the retreating advocate's back, noting how a squeal was not a verbal agreement. A point that might have to be dealt with later. For now, she turns to Cravendy and shrugs. "Sometimes I think our contracts are easier to deal with." she added.

Cravendy nods in agreement with Lin. Clear cut rules, payment! But in the world of volunteering and do-goodery, there was a wide spectrum of folk to tussle with. She looks over to Riylli and snorts. “Looks weird with just the ‘ead.”

Riylli began idly fiddling around underneath her mask as she tried to get it to fit properly. "Course these things don't fit my damn ears... Nice to know nothings changed around here." She muttered angrily, definitely feeling very spiteful today. "EVERY. ROUND." Riylli reminded Cravs, then finally began to put on her suit, grumbling all the while

Aislinn - As they made their way to this special hen house, Aislinn struggled into the ridiculous chicken costume. "Know what this is? This is Nymeia's jest in return for me laughing earlier." she shook her head, her small frame almost swallowed up by the bulk of the costume. Looking down at herself, she laughed. "What is my life right now?" she pondered aloud.

Cravendy ALRIGHT so since the fates up, lets hop to it xD )) Cravendy whoever gets the most eggs...wins! )) Riylli (BAH, I SUCK AT THIS FATE THO Cravendy SAME LOL )) Aislinn Also same)) Cravendy GDI )) Riylli ( KNOCK ME TO VICTORY Cravendy these chickens have NO EGGCUSE being this rude )) Riylli (GAH Aislinn ((They're very eggcitable)) Cravendy at some point you get knocked around to much )) Cravendy you accept heavy as a way of life )) Riylli (using the aoe to dash me to other eggs Riylli (this is pro gaming Cravendy make sure to turn in your eggs! )) Riylli 16 Cravendy AGHF I keep interrupting myself xD )) Cravendy 12! LOL )) Aislinn ((9!)) Cravendy damn pro gamer over here ahah )) Riylli (Riylli shall win every hunt in this fc Riylli Y E S Cravendy EGG )) Cravendy OMG )) Cravendy thats cannibalism! xD )) Riylli (victory tastes so good Cravendy tho my parents own chickens and they egg their own eggs all the time lol )) Aislinn ((Are you eating them ALL? Cool Hand Luke over here)) Riylli eggsecution Cravendy STOP you'll overdose on them! )) Riylli (I aint doing it again you cant make me Aislinn ((EGGsplosion))

Cravendy limps away from the henhouse. Truly, these birds were in a fowl mood! But she’s managed to collect a dozen and that’s something, right?

Riylli finishes her hunt with sixteen total eggs in her basket, the ultimate hunter in both speed and grace. Of course, she may have thrown some chickens around and caused some children to cry, but victory is all that mattered in the end. If she had to be a chicken, she would be the GREATEST CHICKEN

Aislinn hurriedly clambers over the fence, a basket half-full of eggs and the sound of muffled curses coming from under her mask. "Those birds are not normal. I see why we need the damned suits now. They're protection."

Cravendy - “Never thought I’d be tossed around by a...by a chicken?!” Putting it into words doesn’t help at all. She peers over to Riylli’s haul. “‘ow’d ye manage to get so many?”

Cravendy LOL at any cost, Riylli will be the ultimate chicken xD )) Riylli (Shoving children over and stealing their eggs

Riylli puffed up her chest, somehow managing to look proud even inside such a ridiculous outfit. "When will you learn... Keepers are the greatest hunters there are! Doesn't matter if it's beast or bugs or... or eggs..." Her confidence wavered a bit at the end there, but she wasn't about to give up this opportunity to gloat

Aislinn pulls her mask off with a huff and pushes back the hair plastered to her brow. She quietly counts up the eggs between the three of them. "This better be enough to buy your freedom from this cult, Cravendy."

Cravendy “Smaller target is all. Chickens were too busy chasin’ me around.” Cravs smirks beneath her hat.

Riylli pulled her chicken hood off, freeing her ears from their confines and giving them a tentative flick. Despite herself, she was wearing a large grin that let Cravendy know this was not the last time she would hear of this. "Sure, sure, whatever you say."

“I ‘ope so too, Lin.” Cravs sighs, thinking back to how chicken-garbed strangers would pop out at the strangest of times, incessantly asking about when she was going to finally help out. But when she sees the smiles on everyone’s faces, a part of her gives. It’s not all to keep nosy birds off her back. “...OY WAIT. Cravs? It’s Chickendy!”

Aislinn starts peeling off the hen-pecked suit and shoots the Seawolf a wry smile. "Aye, aye. Chickendy. My mistake." she paused, struggling to fold the suit over one arm while holding her basket in the other. "Should we get these over to the amphitheatre so they can be...decorated or painted. Whatever they do to them next."

Cravendy sulks. She knows that tone. Call her crazy, but a small part of her had held onto hope that somehow the two of them hadn’t made the connection. “Ay, let's get this over with.”

Riylli glanced down at the mask in her hands and thought for a moment, before suddenly deciding to put it back on. "Think Ill keep this on 'till were out of the city... Personally I hope Chickendy sticks around though. She can dance for us next time we go out on a mission, keep our morale high." She teases

Aislinn slides a glance Riylli's way. "Might come in handy if we ever face down another mob of avians."

Cravendy nearly chokes at the thought of dancing to raise morale. But she fumes in silence.

As you approach the amphitheatre once more, the sounds of children laughing fill the air. All around you, families and friends excitedly partake in egg-related activities. The advocate happily accepts the party’s baskets, and then hands each of them a delicately painted egg. “You all did so good! Here, as a reward!”

Riylli silently accepted the egg, paused for a moment, then immediately dropped it. "Woops." She muttered, sarcasm absolutely dripping off her tone. It seemed now that the thrill of victory had faded, Riylli was back to her previously grumpy self. "So sorry, hard to get a good grip in this costume. You understand I'm sure."

Aislinn nods in thanks as she carefully takes the egg. She smiles in her quiet way as she runs a finger along its surface, appreciating the detail. After a moment, she looks back up at the advocate. "Those are quite some chickens you've got there. The suits did actually come in handy."

Cravendy takes the egg and pockets it. Somehow.

“No worries! Have another!” The advocate presents another gift to Riylli. A chocolate egg. They then turn to Lin, sunshine exuding from behind their feathered maw. “The finest hens in Eorzea! And they lay the tastiest eggs too!”

Riylli accepts the gift, and then drops the gift. "Woops." She said again, practically challenging the advocate to give her another. Pettiness was her specialty, and she could do this all day.

The henny-helper hums in thought, and then raises a finger as a lightbulb lights up above their head. They take out a sticker and plaster it on the center of Riylli’s chicken hat. Bock bock!

“I’m free now, right? I am, right?” Cravs asks, and the Hatchingtide worker nods. Cravs stumbles back in relief, and then looks to Lin and Riylli. “Thanks...er, strangers. Well, I must be off. To somewhere.”

Aislinn sighs softly. "Nymeia's breath." she says, barely audible. This way lay trouble, she could sense it. "Right, then. Ah...thank you, I suppose." It seemed the polite thing to say. "And...good luck with the rest of your Hatchingtide. We'll just be heading out now."

Aislinn begins back away slowly

Riylli stared, trying and ultimately failing to figure out a way to counter this attack as well. Giving up, she turned to Cravs. "See you later Chickendy, try not to make eye contact with any strangers on your way out." She said, offering her a wave. She followed close to Aislinn as she backed away, sighing heavily. "Lets go back to the house and burn this shite..."

Although they had been strongarmed into helping out, the three of them did good in spreading festive cheer in Gridania. But perhaps they would stay far away from any chicken-suited fellows in the future....just in case.

Aislinn - "Might come in handy though somewhere down the line." she says with such a straight face, it's unclear as to whether she's joking or not.

#ffxiv rp #balmung rp #ffxiv crystal rp #Heartwood Ventures #Cravendy Hound #Aislinn North #Riylli Aliapoh #Happy hatchingtide!

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crystalgirl259 · 4 years ago

Text

The Flame and the Dragon Ch11

Chapter 11: The Cerise Room

Kai's defiant gaze and wails of despair echoed in Cole's mind even as he followed Skylor and Chamille out towards the courtyard, to make sure the two guards returned both of Kai's siblings home safely. Both of them begged and pleaded for their brother's return, even offering the same deal, but Cole refused them. The smaller one could barely speak as his coughing fit returned with force.

"Get going both of you!" Cole ordered, as Skylor and Chamille secured Nya and Lloyd and took off to the forest. Knowing his servant's speeds, Cole assumed the two humans would be home in a manner of minutes, and plenty of time to make sure the smallest boy got his medication. Sighing, Cole turned on his heels and returned to the manor. He couldn't help but feel the pain of guilt wash over him as he heard his prisoner's wails, but he brushed it off.

The brunette will just have to get used to it. He concluded that as he stormed back up the spiraling staircase to the tower.

"Um... Master?" A timid voice said, causing him to pause.

"What, Jay?" He snarled, turning to the blue fox.

"Well, uh, we were just wondering which one of the guest rooms we should be preparing for Kai, you know?" He gulped as he tried to steady his voice. Cole had never harmed or hurt any of his servants and didn't ever plan to, but the lord's presence and commanding authority made it difficult to not feel nervous in his presence.

"And why would you all be wondering that?"

"Well, we just figured since Kai is going to be staying with us for some time, that maybe he would be more comfortable staying in a proper room." Nelson timidly explained. Cole snarled, causing Jay to squeak and took a step back.

"Or not."

"Cole!" Someone snapped and Cole turned to meet a scowling young yeti. Even though he was slightly shorter than Cole, Zane still stood tall, but it was the way Zane said Cole's true name, that even he sometimes forgot in the depths of his mind, that herald his attention.

"Zane!" Nelson cried and abandoned his creature form for his human one and hugged the yeti. Zane gave him a small smile before his neutral mask returned when his eyes met his Master's.

"Nelson, I believe me and the master have other matters to discuss at the moment." He said. Unlike the younger servants, Zane was one of the few who had no fear of Cole.

"Really, and what matters?" Cole joked arrogantly despite Zane's scowl deepening.

"I certainly hope you don't plan on leaving that poor boy locked up and freezing to death in that tower all night?" Zane scolded, making no effort to hide the disdain in his voice.

"And why not?" Cole challenged, with a sarcastic tone. "He is certainly strong enough to handle it, and besides, he had no trouble screeching at me when he made the deal." He snarled.

"Master please," Neuro pleaded as he flew in, hoping to calm his Master's temper. "The boy lost his family and his freedom in less than an hour; anyone would be upset in his position."

"Besides, your curse's deadline is in less than five months, Master," Nelson said as he kept his face towards Zane, so Cole couldn't read his emotions. "It would be a waste to have your last hope of breaking the spell freezing in a tower, who knows some, curtsey may inspire him to follow suit; he most certainly wasn't this feisty when I first saw him." He explained and Zane resisted the urge to smirk, knowing exactly what the werebear was trying to do.

"Anyone would be feisty if they found their family locked up, and he is a bit of a mess, a good night's sleep and a hot meal might help him relax," Jay added.

"Hmm, you all seem to have put too much faith in a child who claims to hate me." Cole chuckled, bitterly.

"Cole, are you saying you don't care if the curse is broken or not! You know what happened to you if it isn't!" Zane hissed, growling at his stubborn master, more out of concern than anything else.

"I'm well aware of that, Zane, I simply don't see the point in raising everyone's hopes when they'll only be shot down in the end," Cole replied in a very detached manner. "But if it will put you all at ease; no, I don't plan on keeping him in the tower." He snapped and stormed towards the tower staircase. "Go prepare the Cerise room."

"The Cerise room?" Jay gasped as everyone, even Zane's, eyes widened with surprise.

"It suits him, go get the others and set it up, now." He ordered and watched the servents move. "Nothing too over the top, he won't like that," Cole ordered, turning back towards the tower and ignoring all the baffled glances his servants were sending him. "He's not some helpless docile kid who'll just accept his fate and be happy with a pretty room." He explained without stopping or looking behind him before he vanished up the tower steps.

"That was a very clever but a very risky move, Nelson." Zane half scolded when the Master was out of hearing range.

"I know, but the Master is always so stubborn because he's lonely, who knows, maybe spending time with Kai will be good for him?" The werebear boy smiled, optimistically...

****************

The iron door slammed open with a loud clang when Cole shoved it. His dragon eyes scanned the tower dungeon for his captive. He found him right where he left him, collapsed in front of the windowsill, still crying. Cole felt his heartstrings wrench at the sight of the strong-willed youth looking so broken, but shook it away.

"Kai?" He called. No sooner has the teen heard his name did he lookup. Wild amber eyes blazed with anger and sorrow; visible tears marks on his cheeks. Kai wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and gripped the windowsill before pulling himself into a standing position. Then, without warning, he dashed forward and with one swift motion punched Cole in the face.

The dragon hybrid's head snapped to one side with a force that almost knocked him over.

"YOU BASTARD!" Kai exploded, shaking in anger, but refused to let any more tears fall. "You couldn't give five measly seconds to say goodbye!? I had just signed my life away to you! I gave up everything for my family and I'll never see them again or say that I loved them! Did you not see my little brother's face? I couldn't even have a minute to calm him and down and tell him I'd be alright!" He roared. All he wanted was to tear Cole's tail off and shove it down the lord's throat.

Cole moved his head back and moved one of his clawed hands to rub the abused cheek, eyes glowing dangerously at the teenager as he continued his rant.

Cole remained silent, purely from shock. No one ever spoke to him like that or stuck him, even after he'd been cursed. Anger soon replaced astonishment. Cole's pride kicked in and he snatched his captive's wrist before he could move away. Kai opened his mouth to protest but was silenced when Cole slammed him back against the stone wall, pinning both his wrists above his head. The dragon hybrid's tail around Kai's thigh, holding him in place.

Fearing the worst, Kai began to struggle, but Cole pinned him with his free hand and forced the teen to look at him.

"Strike me again, and there will be dire consequences." Cole hissed in a dangerously low voice. A slight satisfaction filled him when Kai shivered, though the brunette's glare refused to falter.

"Let go of me!" Kai growled and bit his lip until he tasted blood when Cole used one of his legs to pin him against the wall. He refused to cry out. He wouldn't give the Dragon Lord the satisfaction.

"Let's get something straight here, candle; you don't make the rules, I do, you agreed to be here and follow them, so I suggest remember that or your time here will not be pleasant and I won't hesitate to punish you if you disobey me, again." He growled before he released Kai and he dropped to the floor. "Mark my words; I will douse that defiant flame of yours." He smirked and turned and headed back towards the door. "Now, if you're done throwing a tantrum, I'll show you to your room."

"My room?" Kai asked his head shot up, and he got to his feet.

"Of course, you didn't think I was heartless enough to leave you here in the tower all night, did you? Surely even you must have a higher opinion of people, unless, of course, you would rather stay." He mocked. Kai growled at the mocking tone and felt his ego bruise a bit, showing Cole that was what he thought. Swallowing his pride, Kai followed the lord out of the tower. Cole grabbed a nearby lantern and ordered Kai to follow him. As they walked, Kai's amber eyes wandered around the corridor in amazement.

The castle's inside was just as magnificent as the outside.

Once Cole escorted him up the staircase to the second floor, he followed down a hallway, done like an open balcony with marble railings. Kai peeked over the side and found a fantastic view of the main corridor and several other rooms. Chandeliers made of glass and crystal and candles hung from the ceilings on thick chains, and statues of gargoyles and mythical creatures embedded the walls. His gaze fell on the marble floors beneath him to the shadowed ceiling.

The points and curves of the roof were done elaborately,

Windows of stained glass were speckled everywhere, while the pillars seemed to continue forever into the infinite darkness. Unlike the castle of his dreams, everything in this place was a darker color or seemed veiled in shadows. No dust or cobwebs littered the castle walls or floor. Not even the polished stone of the statues, floor, and balconies were all aged by time. Cole's eyes trailed behind him, mentally telling himself he only wanted to make sure the boy was following him, but another part of him couldn't resist the look on his captive's face as he scanned his new home.

The silence between them suddenly became tense and suffocating.

Cole had always welcomed silence, the absence of noise had always offered him a sense of peace, but suddenly, he'd give anything to break the silence. Knowing Kai wouldn't make the first move, he cleared his throat.

"Since the castle is your home, you're free to move about it as you like; if you get lost or wish to find a specific location, ask the servants." The Master explained. A snort was his only answer. It was a miracle Cole didn't scowl. "The only restrictions are that you are not to leave the palace grounds or go anywhere near the woods, but that is for your own safety; the second is you are not allowed near the west wing under any circumstances."

"What's in the west wing?"

"That is not your business!" Cole snapped before they started walking again. "Other than that, you are free to go about as you wish." He added, but this time his answer was full-blown laughter. Cole stopped in his tracks and whirled around. Kai didn't even flinch at his feral gaze.

"If you think giving me a room and suddenly being polite will convince me to forgive and forget, and make nice, you are sorely mistaken!" He spat with heavy sarcasm in his's voice. "I have no intention of becoming another one of your servants, so do us both a favor and don't pretend to be nice to me." He snapped. Cole's first response was anger. The fury rose inside him like a caged beast, then it turned to anguish. This person knew his story, and yet he criticized him?

His expression suddenly changed and he started laughing, but it wasn't a normal laugh.

His laughter wasn't what Kai usually heard when people showed their happiness. This was darker, more amused, and curled with a type of humor that chilled Kai to the bone. Once the king's gaze returned to him, he smirked at Kai's state, a smile that curled at the corners.

"You have quite a defiant spirit and a sharp tongue." He said as he took a step towards the human, who took a step back, but Cole continued forward not letting the short distance between them grow. Kai cursed when his back hit the wall of the balcony and his hands grabbed air. Cole leaned over his captive, meeting the boy's amber eyes, their faces now even closer. "It'd be wise of you to keep that tongue of yours in check, otherwise, it just might get you killed." He warned.

Kai flinched when one of Cole's claws traced his cheek.

He breathed in Kai's ear before pulling back, leaving Kai still shaking against the banister. The teen cursed himself for showing weakness in front of his capture, but his glare returned with full force. His defiance only seemed to amuse Cole even more. He then turned to the room that would now be Kai's new home. The click of keys unlocking the large gold door was the only warning Kai got before he suddenly found himself whisked inside his new room.

Not even bothering to check around, he turned his attention to his capture and glared.

"I can walk just fine on my own." He scowled but Cole snorted as he shook his head, and turned around as if leaving.

"Despite the circumstances, and as difficult as this is for you to accept, I do hope you enjoy your stay here." He said and Kai resisted the urge to blink at the sympathy in the Dragon Lord's voice.

"Now, get dressed and have the servants bring you down for dinner." He commanded.

"No," Kai said, hands balled into fists at his sides. Cole froze in his tracks.

"I beg your pardon?" He growled, his voice was lower and more dangerous than it had been all night.

"I'm not hungry." He said flatly, grateful his empty stomach didn't voice its protests.

"I wasn't asking if you were hungry or not, I'm telling you that you're going to dinner." He ordered as his glare met Kai's, the intensity of his own green depths rivaled by the untamable fire in Kai's amber orbs.

"No, I'm not." He said simply; his tone undaunted. His eyes bore into the Dragon Lord's. They remained transfixed, neither willing to break their control or give the other the satisfaction of knowing he'd won. Finally, the dragon hybrid smiled, a small smirk that made Kai blink, before a boom of laughter erupted from Cole. Blood boiled in Kai's veins. Did Cole really find him so amusing? The thought made his teeth clench in rage.

"Very well, be stubborn; I will not argue." He half-mocked. "If you insist on acting this way then starve for the night! Perhaps going without food for a while will do your attitude some good." He laughed, but just as quickly his glare turned hard and he leaned over to meet Kai's eyes. The boy too stunned to do anything but a standstill. "But I mean what I say when you won't get anything tonight! The servants obey only me and if I order them not to, they'll obey so you won't be able to have them bring you something because you skipped a meal because of your stubbornness, so you either come now or go without, the choice is yours." He snarled.

Despite the flinch in his step and his churning stomach, Kai's glare refused to falter.

"I'll take my chances."

"Fine." Cole huffed before he turned on his heels and stormed out the door. He said nothing else as the door slammed shut, leaving Kai alone in the gilded cage. Kai growled and kick the door in frustration, before grabbing the nearest pillow and released a violent scream he'd been holding back into it. After he was finished he let it drop into his lap and panted in frustration. It didn't make him feel better, but it felt nice to release some of his pent-up stress.

When he opened his eyes, he finally took in the surroundings of his new room.

He wasn't sure what to expect when Cole said he was having a room in the palace. He expected something straight out of a fairytale when the princess got her prince. The exact opposite of what he got. The room was beautiful in a gothic way. Instead of a wooden bed, he got an iron frame bed. A grotesque pattern formed the headboard and end of the bed like a spider web. The iron frame contorted upward like twisted vines in a type of canopy.

Red and gold veiled the roof and draped down, pooling once it hit the carpet like waterfalls of gold and blood.

Bright red blankets of satin draped the full-sized mattress. Pillows that were woven from gold, red, and black satin and Egyptian cotton aligned the headboard in various sizes, forming patterns that served both comfort and decorative. Next to the bed was a black iron table in the same molding as the bed. A lit candle rested peacefully next to a book bound in brown leather and a black pen. Above the table, a large branched candlestick rested against the wall.

Each of its multiple branches held a lit, vanilla-scented candle.

Opposite the bed, a fire roared to life contained by about three feet of obsidian stone and mantle. Iron and glass served to keep the embers safely contained while heat flooded into the room. Candles lined the mantelpiece, all in iron candle holders. A black vase filled with white and yellow roses in the center contrasted with the black stone of the mantle. Two large candles blazed to life in black, iron lanterns on either side of the fireplace. Kai's eyes wandered further around the room.

All the furniture was simple yet elegantly carved from rich wood with gold handles.

The pieces lined against the walls opposite the bed. In the far corner, against the same wall as the fireplace, an enormous wardrobe towered over him, almost touching the ceiling. The carvings resembled the vines of a forest, moving up the wood, while the images of deer decorated the doors. Next to it was a door that Kai could see led to a bathroom. The polished obsidian floor contrasted nicely with the ivory tub and the pale cream marble counters.

In the corner next to the entrance door sat a carved wooden desk and a large bookshelf, stacked with books with brass or silver bindings.

Brass knobs and bindings decorated the desk where stacks of paper, books, and pens had already been organized. The darkness of the furniture and bed contrasted nicely with the gold carpets covering the floors. Despite his desire to hate the room, Kai loved it, but at the same time, it was a gift from his captor. What drew Kai's attention was the wall on the left side of the bed. A strip made almost entirely out of glass, save for the aged, gold bindings of a doorway and the mesh curtains.

If not for the balcony appearing through the invisible wall, Kai could've been convinced nothing was there.

He got up and walked to the glass. A transparent reflection met him as he approached. His hand moved automatically to meet that of his reflection, only to feel the cold glass of the invisible barrier beneath it. He saw the dark forest, covered with snow and ice, beneath a towering mountain. The full moon, shimmering in the black sky, perfected the image. It became too difficult to look beyond his reflection and at the portrait behind it before he found himself meeting his eyes in the clear mirror.

His hand gently retracted from the glass, pulling back as far as it could before tightening into a fist.

Kai growled and punched the glass window, hard. Not even a crack or dent marred the surface. His bangs shadowed his eyes as he lowered his face and pressed his forehead against the glass, shaking in anger, anguish, and fear. All his emotions pooled together at once making it impossible to calm himself down. His nails scraped against the living symbol of the bitterness of his sacrifice. Overcome by his raging emotions, he struggled backward from the window until the back of his hand touched the iron sides of the bed.

He collapsed to the floor, no longer caring about the tears on his cheeks...

****************

After a few hours of leaving Kai to stew, Cole decided he had had enough waiting and he walked back to the Cerise Room to check if Kai had finally cracked and wanted to get some dinner. When he arrived, however, he was a little surprised to see Jay, Tox, Ronin, and Nelson crouched by Kai's bedroom door with their ears pressed up against it. Cole struggled to suppress a laugh at the sight. It was clear they hadn't noticed him as he walked closer.

"Shouldn't you three be in bed by now?" He said and the servants jumped and whirled around to see Cole standing there with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

"Witt all due respect, Master, we're over 100 years old, and it's only 1 am." Ronin replied.

"Rules are rules; now get to bed before I call Zane." He playfully warned, watching them scurry away. A small chuckled escaped his mouth before his attention turned to the real reason he'd returned to the east wing. The lock of the door opened with a shallow click and a low creek. Though darkness shrouded the room in shadow, the multiple candle-lit candle holders and the roaring fire lit the room in a bright glow. He saw that his captive was not on the bed where he'd left him, or at the desk, or in the bathroom.

His dragon eyes scanned the corners of the large room until they caught a flash of red on the other side of the iron bed frame.

With an elegant swoop, the Dragon King found himself on the other side of the room, staring down at his shivering captive on the floor. Cole sighed and knelt down, a clawed hand removed the stray strand of hair from the boy's sleeping face. This revealed the tear-streaks on his cheeks. Carefully, Cole whipped the tears away with the back of his hand. A silent shiver ran through his hand when the warm skin touched his cool scales. The boy truly was beautiful.

He didn't know what Kai had to be so stubborn.

He sighed before hooking his arms under Kai's legs and back and gently lifting him into his arms. Kai's coat slid to the floor with the action, but Cole's tail was quick to catch it. Relieving his captive of the uncomfortable position, the dragon lord placed him on the bed, him resting against pillows. His eyes scanned the boy over, taking in his dirty shirt and pants. They had been soiled from the day's events. Cole closed his eyes and with a snap of his fingers, the clothes joined Kai's coat on the floor.

The Master turned to the wardrobe and pulled out something for the brunette to wear tomorrow.

His eyes caught something shinning against the candlelight.

"I thought I'd lost this." He muttered as his clawed hands lingered over one of his old dark red sweaters. He pulled it from its place on the chair and held it open. It looked as lovely as it did when he'd lost it. The fabric as crimson as freshly spilled blood and the stitching of a gold dragon decorated along the arms. His eyes darted from the sweater to his shivering captive, then back to the sweater. He deposited the fresh clothes on the rim of the bed and gently covered his captive's shivering body.

He made a note to have Harumi have it fitted for him once he was settled.

That sweater looked better on Kai than it did on him...

#The Flame and the Dragon #beauty and the beast #ninjago #ninjago zane #ninjago cole #ninjago kai #lavashipping

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priorireverte · 4 years ago

Photo

Congratulations Snapey!

Your application for Severus Snape has been accepted. I really love how much depth and thought you put in to how his history and life shaped him in to the man he was when he died. I am so excited to see how he’ll be shaped by his untimely un-demise. If he ever gets past the initial panic and doomandgloom.

Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: Snapey, He/Him

TIMEZONE:GMT

ACTIVITY LEVEL: Probably 2 paras a week with occassional explosions of activity flooding the dash

ANYTHING ELSE: Got a looooot of experience. Lots. Also my Snape is both a bad person and a good person because I read the books. I don’t know if this is the place for it, but Severus, being a product of the 1970s has a lot of internalised homophobia, and while, I, Snapey, like to think I’m pretty up to date on prejudice and privilege, this grumpy old turd isn’t. If I post something that’s ruining your ability to enjoy the RP even if it isn’t in the triggers list, or you’re not in the thread, let me know. I never want fun to become work.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Severus Snape

BIRTHDATE: January 9, 1960

DEATHDATE: May 2, 1998

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Male, he/him, probably heteroromantic, definitely bisexual but low self image, so get past that, suitors. He is comfortably male despite his more feminine aspects.

BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Slytherin

OCCUPATION: Returned

FACECLAIM: Adrien Brody/ Louis Garrel, either works, got plenty of age appropriate gifs. Got more sneers for LG tho :D

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

POSTBELLUM:

At first Severus thought that what he was experiencing was the effects of a brain starved of blood and oxygen, combined with hypovolemic shock. Nothing made sense, but that was all well and good when he thought the world around him was a delusion. His behaviour at first was unusual, almost excitable. Every night he went to sleep, sure that this would be the time he never awoke and finally his consciousness would fade into the ether. Morning always came. And oddly, his dying neurons never provided an image of either of the two wizards he had served for more than half his life….nor did they show him the boy he’d made it his life’s work to protect in anything but scraps of conversation and images on newspapers. All in all the delusion was a strange one but it had to be false…didn’t it?

It started to become clear to him that this was not the case, and he was neither awaiting trial for his crimes nor being nursed back to health- the wound that should have been on his neck was not even visible, though sometimes he was sure he almost felt the sharp stab of Nagini’s fangs into his throat. Finally, he realised his position, and the old guarded Severus returned.

PERSONALITY:

Severus’s personality appears to many to be a mystery. Equal parts anger and sadness, all held tight behind a number of walls. Deeply traumatised by the events of his childhood and youth, Severus hides a great deal, afraid to show too much of any emotion, lest it be considered weakness. The only emotion he allows himself to experience around others is anger, since his upbringing has told him it is the only feeling a man is allowed to have. Rage makes him feel for a moment to be powerful.

Severus is quintessentially Slytherin, despite what the late Albus Dumbledore may have implied with his heinous ‘sort too soon’ comment. Resourceful, practical, and driven, Severus has the makings of a great wizard. If only he had got his name into the history books for something else.

His strengths lie in logic, creativity, and problem solving, but he takes them too far at times, seeking to analyse and overanalyse every action. Looking too deeply for too long.

Severus, despite his former jobs as Head of Slytherin, and later, Headmaster, is not a leader. He has never been such, and never will be. He is solitary partially through choice, as he feels it more comfortable than to have to watch his words and wait for whatever fresh hell will be foist upon him.

His interaction with other living things has always been a weakness, be it plants, creatures magical and mundane, or other humans. He does not trust them and they often do not trust him. And considering all that he is….can you blame them?

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Severus’ family comes in three parts.

His home, a muggle father tossed about on the sea of Thatcherism in the industrial north and a pureblood witch for a mother who had greater concerns than the welfare of her son. It was not a happy home, even though it had moments of brightness.

Lily Evans, his best friend during childhood and a lamplight in the dark of the almost slums of Cokeworth. Her effects on his character and personhood were immeasurable.

Lastly, the Death Eaters, and specifically those he was at school with. As a boy with nowhere to belong, caught between the bright academia of Hogwarts and the dingy grime of Cokeworth summers, the Death Eaters offered him something he had long craved. A disenfranchised, talented youth, he lapped up their promises and made one of the defining choices, and mistakes of his life.

HISTORY

Poor, working-class, neglected, too smart for his own good. Severus had the deck stacked against him at an early age. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, as the cliche goes, Severus succeeded monumentally in the Wixen world. A star Potioneer, an expert in the Dark Arts, an occumplished Occlumens. But those would be victories hard won, working twice as hard as his housemates, for scant praise.

While his childhood was grim, there was some hope, borne by Lily Evans. The girl was bright and vibrant and importantly, a witch. Severus did not know tthe manner of her importance on his future only that he was sure she would be a part of it.

The first stumbling block to their friendship was their Sorting, but even that did not yet spell doom. They still spent plenty of time together, exploring spellcraft and potions, though Severus’ interest was always very practical and with a Darker bent to it. Their housemates however, had different opinions. While Lucius Malfoy’s favour protected him for his first two years from much of the open Blood purity rhetoric by which point he had proved his worth to his housemates, it was always there in the periphery, and the poison dripped slowly into his ear, along with the promises of power and whispers of a world where he never had to deal with muggles like Petunia and his father.

Come his fifth year, in the dead of winter, his distrust for authority, bolstered by the lack of interference from his teachers into the campaign of bullying he had endured, hit a new peak. Not only had his terrorisers attempted to kill him (Severus surprisingly believed better of Sirius Black than to use an ignorant friend as a murder weapon- and worse of James Potter, sure that the other boy had only come along because of the consequences it would have on Remus Lupin’s continued freedom), but there was to be no speaking of the incident and certainly no real material punishment. Add in the stress of standardised testing and the pressure to prove himself every bit the wizard his mother’s blood made him, and once summer rolled around and the sun and blood was high, he lashed out at his stalwart friend, ending a seven year friendship in an instant.

He tried to make amends at first, but pushed away, sought some small comfort in the bosom of brotherhood. And soon enough he was standing shoulder to shoulder with them in a war. As time passed and he began to realise that the aims of this organisation, and more importantly, the methods, were not only distasteful but in direct opposition to those morals he still held, his loyalty began to waver. And once again, a push in the form of an overheard prophecy and Severus found himself knelt at Albus Dumbledore’s feet on a windy November night begging for mercy. For himself, but more importantly for his old friend, no faith in the man who had been his master.

And so began the cat and mouse game, where Severus was always the mouse, tossed between two cats, two masters. Adding to the stress of being a teacher barely older than his oldest students was the constant threat, the fear of discovery, and of the sword hanging above the Potter’s heads.

When news of the Halloween attack on Godric’s Hollow reached him, the bottom fell out of his stomach. He felt -and not for the first time- that perhaps his death at Remus Lupin’s hands in the Shrieking Shack at 15 had been fated, and it was this divertion from the tapestry woven for him that had lead to so much anguish. Certainly he felt like a dead man walking then. And all the worse for knowing that the real target of the attack had survived. It was in an attempt to make amends that he put his life into Dumbledore’s hands. He clung to the last shred of Lily inside himself and out.

Harry Potter- the boy who would occupy many of his waking moments. Even before the boy came to Hogwarts, before seeing the cocky, miniature James Potter sitting in his class, glaring at him with Lily’s eyes, Severus lay awake many nights wondering how the boy would turn out. He hoped, of course, for more of Lily. More of that bright, almost holy, goodness. Time and distance had toyed with his memories somewhat, so when he recalled Lily, he no longer thought of the arguments, or the paranoid way he had viewed her friends, or even his anger at her. A resigned grief and loss was what he felt. But Severus had never had the easy way of things, so when fateful 1991 rolled around, while he knew he was in for seven long years, he could never have predicted how long and how hard they would be.

Firstly, the boy had neither of his parent’s genius. He was lazy with his work and only too eager to play silly quidditch games, putting himself at risk and Severus into mild heart palpitations. Not only did he have to continue to worry about the safety record of his potions class, but watch an ever worsening parade of Defence against the Dark Arts teachers, and a worrying resurgence of the old ways in the Slytherin common room. He tried his best to be the teacher he had never had, but in loco parentis meant something different from his perspective, and he was a stern taskmaster. His colleagues, those he should have been able to bond with at least a little were all older than him, and somehow less mature. They were frivolous in many ways he could not afford to be, they seemed to have no idea of the depths to which mankind could sink, and they doted on Potter.

Three years and multiple apoplectic rages later, terror re-entered Severus’ life. A growing itch on his arm, a darkening Mark until at last, the thing Dumbledore had somehow known would come, came. The Dark Lord returned. And so did Severus. Now he was older, and less susceptible to the Dark Lord’s flattery and promises, but the knife’s edge he walked grew ever sharper the more he ingratiated himself into the Dark Lord’s graces, no longer part of what had once been akin to a family.

And so the Order was resurrected, but he didn’t belong there either, and no-one let him forget it. Nevermind that he was now not only supposed to teach the boy Potions-which he had no skill in- but also Occlumency -which he was even worse at. As the year grew darker, with an ever more invasive ministry presence, and an ever more combative pupil, he found himself removing more and more memories, reliving them each time he returned them to the cramped tense space in his mind. He could feel all he had worked so hard for crumbling beneath him; he was losing his Slytherins to a side he dare not tell them the cruel truth of, the boy he had promised to protect was increasingly reckless, and under it all, like a viper hiding in the long grass, was the very real threat of the rising Dark Lord.

When at long last, the Headmaster aquiesced to what had now become his yearly routine of applying for the Dark Arts post, he knew that a monumental shift in the balance was coming. And he was not wrong. Not only was he to protect Potter, but Draco Malfoy. He was now a trusted lieutenant of the Dark Lord, and almost sole confidant to Headmaster Dumbledore. Severus retreated further into himself, socially and mentally. He knew he did not know all that either wizard had planned, but he knew enough. He knew that he had been used even worse than he had thought. There was no protecting Potter for the memory of those lost, or the hope of those yet living, there was just …maintaining him. Until the time was right. Until the finl chess move, trading one piece for the black King. It ate away at him. Every time he saw Lily’s eyes in that hated face, and knew that the boy must die, had always had to die. And then clever Draco, letting Death Eaters into the school. And first he had to stun Flitwick, in the midst of a growing companionship, if not quite friendship, and then….on the tower…

It probably came as no surprise to his supposed allies that he had betrayed them. And though he now had as sure a position among the Death Eaters as any wixen, was now truly embraced by them. It felt dirty. He felt dirty. Every spell he cast, no matter which side it was for, no matter to what end. It was as if the smog of Cokeworth, kept at bay for so long had finally spread throughout his veins, curled around his nerves, even around his magic.

The office, gifted to him by men he held nothing but disiluusioned distaste for felt colder and lonelier than his self-imposed isolation in the Dungeons had. He had long felt alone, but never had he been so truly alone as when he sat, surrounded by long dead wixen who had held the post before him, in a school that had been more pain than home. But he endured. He had sworn to. It was perhaps the only thing he had left to cling to. And so he did what he could, to lessen the suffering of others, to save them where he could. And the whole year, he knew that should he choose, he could fall back in with the old crowd, could abandon the plans a portrait whispered to him. Could deserve the hate in every glance from old colleagues, every whisper from the students. Could be the traitor they all thought him.

Only stolen glances at a scrap of paper never meant for him and a torn photograph kept him alive those dark days. It was almost a blessing to be ousted from the castle. Almost. The boy was alive, though Severus knew it couldn’t last, mustn’t be allowed to last.

And then came the battle. The grass he had picnicked on torn up and the dirt churned into mud. The loft battlements brought down to rubble. And he couldn’t find Potter to tell him, if he even would have listened. Lucius gave him a summons from the Dark Lord, and unwilling to break cover when there was still a chance to find the boy, he answered it. Back in that dirty old Shack, back where he should have died at 15. And this time, 23 long, hard-fought years later, he did.

And in those final moments, blood and memories pouring from him, all that he was, muggle blood flooding out along with the wixen, left him, but at least, at that last moment, he saw her eyes again, and there was no hate to be found. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. He hoped he had done enough.

OOC EXPLORATION:

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? Getting to flex my RP muscles in a seriously challenging environment, exploring a post-war Severus who isn’t free, who isn’t happy, and who has to once more adapt and survive.

ANYTHING ELSE?

The cot creaked as he sat up. Another day in this fresh hell. Only it couldn’t really be hell, because there were others here who didn’t deserve it. He closed his eyes briefly, but only briefly, because while there were safe people here, there were also very unsafe ones.

His hypervigilance, forged as a child, sharpened during his school years and honed to a razor’s edge by his years of spying and supervising children around cauldrons served him well as he made his way towards the canteens, watching as another no-longer dead wixen was dropped off. The Unspeakables still hadn’t let on their plans or what they knew of these Returned.

He waited patiently for some space, knowing he would feel safer with a cup of coffee in his hand, and less irritable to boot. As he poured his cup he turned suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He was being watched. He didn’t know if it was by friend or foe, not that he had many of the former. Severus almost hoped it was the latter. He had too often caught glances thrown his way that held an uncomfortable level of respect.

Of course he wanted that, had always strived to be respected….but this was…not right. He drew his issued robes tighter about himself. The mug felt warm in his hand, and he slowly raised it and took a sip, peering from behind the greasy fringe at his fellow inmates, daring them to meet his gaze.

Show yourself…

#prioriannouncement #prioriacceptance #severus snape #admin.emmy

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ten--ia · 5 years ago

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Alice x Ten | Bonds of Youth

starxstorm

“Sometimes you act more like a boyfriend than a best friend. I told you, Ten. I am lady that can take care of herself, not a porcelain doll that might fall and break down to pieces I’ll be fine and I worry of you instead. You came by with your hair pushed back and looking dashing as ever, but now instead you have your hair in a misaligned wet mess, your clothes are as soaked and I can hear your wet socks making noises within your shoes.” Alice insisted, thinking it would be weird to be at the male’s place now that it has been a while and they were fully grown. It was true that their lives brought some distance, so that was probably also why she felt so weird, but the thought of the different gender and how she usually was shy and closed naturally wasn’t helping.

“You won’t also give up, will you?” The female also pouted as she side eyed her best friend and couldn’t help but to let a hint of a smirk grace her lips. They definitely looked like two dorks having a discussion for something so silly and Alice felt for this that she would probably crack under pressure soon, because she was scared of people that looked their way would start to comment.

“Won’t anybody else be there right or if there being, they will know I’ll be there. I don’t want to create any confusion and what should I then wear? I am not so sure I’ll be able to fit in what you wear as I’m smaller and sleeping in a dress won’t also do.” She questioned as she now faced forward and sighed, because well, here she was cracking like an egg under the frying scalding pan that was Ten insisting for what felt like hours now, all while following her around until they reached the bus stop.

Seeing as though she’d been getting a bit tired of the constant concern, he nodded. He just didn’t want her returning back by herself on a stormy night to her apartment. This late at night? It made him worry. However, she wasn’t a kid anymore. She indeed had developed into a woman and was capable of taking care of herself. He needed to understand this. “Yes, as I know that I am not your boyfriend, I still just wanted you to make it back home safely. That’s all. The god...or rather...the thunder itself is quite merciless, I suppose.” He took her frail, cold hand, placing the umbrella inside her closed fist. Smiling down at her, he gave her a tight hug. Whether or not someone was watching, he didn’t care. He just wanted to let her know how much he missed her through out these years.

When they first met, he was interested to know how he was so shy. She would play by herself, not talking to the other kids. The short hair was her trademark even back then and it suited her plenty. Ten always wondered why she wouldn’t talk to the others. So, he brought it upon himself to always try to talk to this girl who seldom did. Trying to lighten her spirit, he would bring her his best action figures, or try to initiate a game of hide and seek. At first, it seemed to be a lost cause as the younger Alice was not interested. However, as time prevailed, she slowly began to open up to him after his many attempts of pestering her. She learned to trust him, as he enjoyed watching her bloom like a rosebud. She spread open her petals, becoming the woman that stood before him now. He was so proud of her transformation, seeing her grow. Ten had just been glad he’d been able to be a part of it.

“Well, I suppose, I’ll leave you then, Ms. Independent.” He joked, beaming warmly. “I want you to take care okay? Can you call me when you get home? I just want to know you’re safe.” He began to back away, his arms dropping to his sides as he stepped out into pouring rain. “Well, see ya?” The demi-god chuckled before turning around, walking down the sidewalk slowly, his whole body now drenched in the summer rain. Despite his best efforts, wanting to end the night on a good note, a large boom came from the thunder above. The rain drops scattering through the scowling wind would have made it hard for anyone to see. As fate would have it, a gargantuan lightening bolt whipped out past the clouds, striking the demi-god and leaving him on the ground, his body absorbing the authoritative shock.

#;starxstorm #;para

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edogawatranslations · 5 years ago

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Danganronpa Kirigiri (3) - Chapter 5, Part 2

Table of Contents | Previous: Chapter 5, Part 1

I left the dorm building. It pained me to leave Kyoko all by herself, but I couldn’t turn back now. Dashing out of the academy grounds, I headed towards the Kirigiri residence. Time was of the essence.

Kyoko’s house stood at the peak of a gently sloping road. The Japanese-style mansion overlooked the world from atop its high perch, asserting its dominance over the entire region. A white wall complete with an imposing gate guarded the vast plot of land. From the bottom of the hill, I watched as clouds suddenly filled the sky, casting shadows over my surroundings. The mansion was trying to intimidate me, urging me to retreat.

I mustered up the courage to scale the hill and stepped up to the gate. Knowing that nobody would appear no matter how much I knocked, I continued walking along the wall. Soon, I came across a small wooden door—Kyoko and the other residents probably used it as the main entrance and exit.

I tried opening it, but as expected, it wouldn’t budge. The lock was probably engaged.

The past me would turn around and leave, but I knew I had to press forward regardless of the dangers ahead. That conviction strengthened as I stood before the mansion.

Ever since my visit here on Christmas night, I had a nagging suspicion that something was wrong, that perhaps I had been making a grave misunderstanding.

That doubt mainly revolved around Kyoko’s grandfather.

Fuhito Kirigiri was the current head of the Kirigiri detective clan. He was said to travel around the world, solving cases at the request of foreign governments.

Additionally, he was a central figure involved in establishing the Detective Library fifteen years ago, along with the leader of the Crime Victims’ Salvation Committee, Mikado Shinsen. There seemed to be bad blood between them. What happened fifteen years ago? Only the two of them knew.

Despite being a founding member, Fuhito opposed the introduction of the Detective Shelf Classification system, believing that receiving a rank as a detective dishonored the Kirigiri name. But now, fifteen years later, Kyoko, who had inherited the Kirigiri name, was registered and ranked in the Detective Library. And she told me her grandfather was the one who registered her.

Was there a contradiction? Or did those fifteen years change Fuhito?

That seemed unlikely. He dutifully continued his detective work as the head of the Kirigiri clan. There was no reason for him to have a change of heart.

Why register his precious successor in the Detective Library? To allow her to learn and grow as a detective?

That would be too shallow of a reason. The Kirigiri clan took pride in their identity as detectives, so much that they prioritized their work over the death of family members. That was how stubborn they were, how much they were willing to sacrifice. Under no circumstances would they intentionally register with the Detective Library, knowing that they would be archived alongside countless other detectives. They wouldn’t sell the Kirigiri name short like that.

However, Kyoko had her own personal objectives, and willfully sought to boost her DSC rank. But she didn’t register herself with the Library; her grandfather did. That was what I couldn’t wrap my head around.

There was something else that aroused my suspicions.

Kyoko mentioned that her grandfather primarily was active overseas. In fact, he was currently abroad and couldn’t conveniently return to Japan. Even on New Year’s Day, he was in a different country. Kyoko had wished him Happy New Year over the phone and asked him, “Is it too early for that where you are?” She was likely referring to the time difference.

Long ago, Kyoko had also traveled and lived abroad with her grandfather for an extended period. Her mother died of illness when she was seven, but she didn’t return to live in Japan. According to her, she spent about five years traveling around the world with her grandfather. After her mother’s death, she likely found a stopping point in her work to visit Japan once, but returned to her itinerant lifestyle soon afterwards—at least, that was my theory.

She claimed to have arrived in Japan by herself two and a half months ago to attend school. I asked if she was staying in this mansion with her grandfather, and she nodded in response, adding that they employed live-in housekeepers as well.

After that, I even met her grandfather in person, but something still didn’t feel right—his location was difficult to pin down.

One thing that struck me as odd was that her grandfather was at this mansion on Christmas night, but called from some faraway country on New Year’s Day. Of course, that was entirely within the realm of possibility, but didn’t that amount of traveling seem excessive? I had disregarded that suspicion of mine, convincing myself that constant traveling was part and parcel of the life of a globetrotting detective.

I should have asked Kyoko about her grandfather back then. But she avoided talking about herself and reacted strongly whenever the topic of family was brought up, so I found it difficult to probe into her personal life.

I was on the verge of uncovering the source of all my suspicions. But the white wall towering before me was in my way. I looked up. Scaling it would be a walk in the park.

Everything around was still. For some reason, the whole neighborhood felt lifeless and barren. No cars in the street, no neighbors walking their dogs.

This was the perfect opportunity.

With my prided vertical jump, I leapt up and grabbed the edge of the wall. I hoisted myself up to my chest, swung my legs over, and climbed up. Piece of cake. All that remained was to jump down on the other side. I sprung into the air like a cat, landing on the ground without making a sound.

The temperature felt a few degrees cooler inside the premises, cold enough that several patches of snow remained in the yard. A path of stepping stones continued through the well-maintained shrubbery to the rear entrance of the mansion.

Was there nobody home, or was whoever inside trying to conceal themselves?

I prayed for the former.

Keeping close to the ground, I approached the mansion. Since the storm shutters were closed, I couldn’t see through the windows. If someone were inside, surely the shutters would be open.

Snow clouds hung overhead.

What had happened to the bright morning sun? A thin veil of darkness encompassed the mansion. If anything, this was convenient, as it allowed me to hide in the shadows.

I pressed my hand against one of the storm shutters. It wasn’t locked. As quietly as possible, I pushed it up very slightly and peered in through the window.

The dark hallway was empty.

Staying outside wasn’t going to get me anywhere, so I decided to find a way in.

I circled the perimeter of the building. As a last resort, I could break a window and sneak in. Of course, I had never done anything daring like that before, but it was do or die. There had to be something inside.

While sneaking around the corners of the building, I gazed out into the yard, when all of a sudden, a noise echoed out from behind me.

After barely managing to stifle a scream, I turned to the source of the sound.

The window I had looked through was now wide open.

Someone stuck their head out—a woman. She wore a white apron over a black knitted sweater and skirt, and was scanning around suspiciously. Her bangs were swept to the side, revealing nervous wrinkles on her forehead. Although she looked quite old, she was probably still youthful.

Was she one of the housekeepers?

I considered asking her if something had happened in the house. I started standing up, when my body suddenly froze.

The woman reached out to close the shutter—with a hand clutching a kitchen knife that gleamed dully in the shade.

I quickly retreated to the shadow of the building.

...Was she in the middle of cooking?

Or was there another explanation? Did she sense an intruder and prepare to fight back?

Even as the temperature continued to drop, unpleasant beads of sweat formed on my cheeks.

Was this my signal to leave?

I stepped out of the shadows and swiftly scuttled behind the shrubs. All around me was the open yard, with no other hiding place in sight.

I had to go back...

No, I couldn’t leave empty-handed. As much as time allowed, I would continue my investigation.

Making a break for it across the yard seemed like my best option.

My legs were ready.

Visualizing myself as an Olympic athlete sprinting down a hundred-meter track, I dashed into the yard. But halfway across, my legs stumbled over something and I fell over in dramatic fashion.

“Aargh!”

Something on the ground caused me to lose my footing. The soil here was softer and slightly sunk into the earth, something I hadn’t noticed on account of the snow. As I attempted to push myself up off of my back, my hand touched the ground.

And at the exact spot my hand touched, there lay a person in a kimono.

No... To be exact, the person was buried.

It was a corpse—one that was half-decomposed and half-skeletonized.

The clothing and build of the body seemed vaguely familiar. If my memory served me correctly, it was the man who greeted me and Kyoko on Christmas—Kyoko’s grandfather.

It had to be him.

It had to be.

It had to be!

Kyoko’s grandfather was dead.

But why?

Who killed him?

What in the world happened here?

The pain from tripping and an unnerving fear left me immobilized on the ground, with my limp muscles refusing to cooperate.

Of course, I was in no condition to realize what was happening behind me. That was why I didn’t notice the dark figure creeping up on me. Only when a shadow was cast over the ground around me did the sense of crisis finally kick in.

I turned around to discover the aproned woman wielding the knife over her shoulder.

This is it. This is where I die.

In that moment, I accepted my fate. It felt like I was detached from myself, like I was in a dream. The blade, threatening to send me back to cruel reality, came swinging down—

But the next thing I knew, the woman’s knees bent backwards.

Behind her stood a man in a suit and tie. He had swung the handle of a shovel into the back of the woman’s knees. Another swift hit to the shoulder, and the woman collapsed onto her back.

Without a moment’s delay, the man grabbed the woman’s arm, deftly flipped her onto her stomach, and restrained her hands behind her back.

As I sat paralyzed watching the scene unfold, the man signaled something with his finger: Run.

I staggered to my feet. Unable to channel strength into my legs, I limped over to the wall. Jumping over it in my current state would be impossible.

In the midst of my panic, the man grabbed my wrist and pulled me as he ran. Even as I tripped over my legs, I somehow kept up.

Before long, the wooden door came into view.

The man disengaged the lock and opened the door. He pushed me outside and followed quickly afterwards. After closing the door, he fished out a key from his pocket and stuck it into the keyhole.

“We’re leaving,” the man said as he started running down the slope.

A black car was parked at the corner of a house a short distance away. He unlocked its doors and urged me inside.

At that moment, I finally got a good look at the man’s face. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties. The determination in his eyes and his gallant expression reminded me of someone.

After I got into the passenger seat, the man started the engine. The reflection of the mansion in the rearview mirror gradually shrank. Beams of light poked through the clouds in front of us.

Before long, we arrived downtown and entered into traffic.

I finally snapped back to reality.

“Um... Thanks for saving me,” I said.

“You don’t have to thank me. However, I must ask that you forget ever meeting me.”

“U-Uh... Sure.”

A few moments of silence set in, which seemed to unsettle the man.

“I never expected things to end up this way,” he said between sighs, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

“Um... Who are you...?”

“I cannot answer that.” He faced forward with a serious gaze. “It’s complicated. Please understand.”

I nodded sheepishly.

My eyes drifted to a black binder resting carelessly on the dashboard. The symbol on its cover looked familiar. If I remembered correctly...

It was the school symbol of Hope’s Peak Academy.

Noticing my gaze, the man grabbed the binder with one hand and slipped it into the pocket of the driver-side door.

I finally realized who he reminded me of: Kyoko Kirigiri.

Her father taught at Hope’s Peak Academy.

Then this man was...

“Are you Kyoko’s—Kyoko Kirigiri’s father?”

The man loosened his tie. He showed no interest in responding.

But I knew he had a key to the mansion, something only a handful of people had in their possession.

“What were you doing back there?” he asked.

“I’m one of Kyoko Kirigiri’s friends,” I said, intentionally repeating her name. “She’s been acting strange lately. She’s staunchly opposed to returning home. I feared something had happened, so I decided to investigate her house...”

“I see.” His response was succinct.

The car stopped at a red light.

He once again broke the silence. “Is she hurt?”

“No.”

“Good to hear.”

The car started up again.

“I think she stumbled upon that corpse,” I said. That would explain her fear and why she left her house, spending ten days wandering around and concealing her whereabouts.

But one thing didn’t make sense. The corpse was partially skeletonized, which meant the body had been buried for at least two or three months. So who was the grandfather I met two weeks ago on Christmas?

Oh...

The realization finally came to me.

Mikado Shinsen!

When had he started disguising as Kyoko’s grandfather? How long had he been deceiving Kyoko, and what was he hoping to achieve?

“Where is she?” the man asked.

“In my dorm room.”

“I see.”

“Do you want to see her?”

“I can’t face her like this,” the man answered, shrugging his shoulders.

He dropped me off at my dorm. I got out of the car without ever finding out his name. He ordered me to keep our meeting a secret from everyone, including her.

Filled with worry, I ran into my room. Kyoko had already awoken and was combing her hair on the side of the bed.

“Yui, welcome back. You’re just in time; I want you to braid my hair.”

I nodded and got behind her.

Her soft, beautiful hair was the embodiment of her purity. As I braided it into three strands, I couldn’t hold back the tears welling up in my eyes.

Why must the world be so cruel to this little girl?

I discreetly wiped away my tears.

I won’t forgive them. I won’t forgive anyone who hurts her.

—to be continued.

[Danganronpa Kirigiri: Volume 3 - The End]

Next: Project Wrap-Up

#danganronpa kirigiri #dr kirigiri #kirigiri #danganronpa #novel #light novel #translation

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