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envihellbender · 5 months

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First date headcanons for Huntress, Frank, Susie, Ghostface and Michael

First Date Headcanons

Huntress:

You have to ask her out rather than the other way around, she’ll drop hints and bring you presents (cute things she found from her victims), and she’ll hang around you a lot but you have to make the first move.

She is really shy and embarrassed, she snorts when she laughs. You both go to the cinema and when you hold her hand she lets out a little squeak and her cheeks burn red.

She isn’t too picky about the movie, so long as no children get hurt she’s happy. If you let her pick though she’d suggest something along the lines of Kung Fu Panda 4. She’d also have a backpack full of sweets and treats for you to share to avoid paying too much for the cinema. She remembers what your favourite snacks are from when you told her the first time you met and got them especially.

She’d prefer not to go to a restaurant afterwards, so you suggest a takeout to sit and eat in the park by the lake. It’s dusk when you get there and it’s a really romantic atmosphere.

You have to initiate the kiss good night, she might shyly reach out to hold hands through out the evening but as much as she desperately wishes to feel her lips against yours, she won’t act on it. When you do her heart swells, her face burns red, and she is so delighted she enthusiastically kisses you again, and again, and again.

Frank:

Your date isn’t something either of you call a date, you meet up outside the 7/11 you know won’t card you and get some beers and some cigarettes. Maybe you pick up snacks, but if you do they’re deep in your pockets before the shop clerk even sees you. The plan is to go to the woods just outside of town, the place where the old folks say the devil worshippers hang out.

Maybe you both don’t realise it is a date, not until your smoking cigarettes, drinking, and eating snacks out on fallen down tree in the woods. You’re both getting giggly, telling jokes and scary stories, they get more and more gruesome as they go along. The scariest ghost stories, the most disgusting creepypastas and r/nosleep stories.

You don’t kiss at the end of the night, instead you kiss whilst you’re both laughing at each other’s jokes and each other’s elaborate revenge fantasies. It isn’t thought out, it’s instinctive, you hold hands, cuddle, and kiss, and theres a heat that it may go further but it doesn’t. It doesn’t need to.

You spend the night wandering through the forest and come across an abandoned building, Frank jumps out behind a wall to scare you, you scream and you both end up laughing so hard you double over. You read the graffiti saying obscene things alongside pentacles and satanic art work. You and Frank add your own additions, alongside the juvenile drawing of a penis Frank writes something almost poetic. You draw a tag that represents both you and Frank.

Frank takes you back home on the back of his bike, you’re shivering at the end of the night and he gives you his hoodie. You have one last kiss and he cheekily sneaks a bite in your neck, a love bite showing he was there.

Susie:

Susie asks you to dinner with an invitation she drew herself, a romantic comic strip that’s self aware and a little tongue in cheek to make it seem like it’s no big deal if you turn her down, not really. When you say ‘yes’ Susie blue screens for a moment, she was not anticipating this answer and it takes her a second to realise you said “yes”.

She makes a picnic for you both, a couple of bottles of fizzy pop, bags of crisps, homemade cupcakes, and sandwiches. She infodumps about her favourite comics, and asks if she’s being annoying again and again. Afterwards you wander wrong the only comic shop in town, she shows you the comics she was talking about.

You surprise her by buying her a small teddy from the video game you bonded with her over at the arcade before you went on your date. She’s delighted and her grin is wider than she normally would let it get to out of being self conscious about her braces and crooked jaw. When you back in the car she sits on the dashboard.

She drives you home but you don’t actually get there for for hours, you both sing a long to your favourite songs on the radio, she takes a detour because she wants to show you her favourite spot. She takes you to the top of a hill just outside of town, you both sit on her hood for a little while, she normally just has her comics up here by herself. She’s never shared it with anyone before.

She actually drives you home, and when she’s parked outside your house you both talk for so long and you say “okay I’ll leave after this song” which seems to go on for an hour at least. Eventually you kiss her, her lipgloss tastes like bubblegum and she’s taken so by surprise she doesn’t close her eyes. She asks if she can do it again because she wants to make it perfect, you giggle and say it was, but you kiss her again. And again. And again.

Ghostface:

For the readers who aren’t 9ttp: Calling him Jed not Danny because Danny is my brother’s name and it’s weird to me

You and Jed meet when you interview him for your true crime podcast for your special on the Ghostface killer. You have plenty of banter on air, leaving the idea of him coming back for a future episode on the cards. After the show is over he asks you out for dinner and a movie that weekend, you’re so taken aback by this that you say yes without thinking. You’re smiling the entire way home, he posts the selfie of you and him on his Instagram saying how much fun he had on the podcast. You heart it and share it to your story with the biggest smile on your face.

You decide to go on Halloween because that’s when the best movies are showing. You’re at a coffee shop in the same mall as the cinema, you both order an iced coffee, he gets whipped cream and chocolate sauce. You are both so excited for the cinemas reshowing of Friday the 13th, you are both talking about your favourite horror movies and playfully argue about your tastes.

When you get to the cinema Jed orders you both a large popcorn to share as well as two tango ice blasts, when you sit down he sneaks out several big bags of sweets from his backpack. He takes a selfie of you both before the movie starts. He raves about how cute you look. He’s wearing a Camp Crystal Lake t-shirt and you one for your favourite band. You’re both excitedly whispering to each other fun facts and your favourite things about the film throughout, your shushed several times and the shot of anger in Jed’s green eyes causes a shot of excitement in your chest.

Afterwards you go to a local fast food place, it’s not fancy but you don’t care, you’re both having a great time that your talking constantly and quickly, eating up everything you both love about cinema. You talk about horror media in general, tell him how he’ll have to come with you for the movie you’re reviewing for the podcast. He asks if that’s your second date with a sly grin, he pays for your food.

Jed walks you home and tells you amazing stories, your not sure if their true but a journalist has to have an exciting life, right? You hold hands without thinking, and when you get to your door he kisses you instantly and deeply. You melt into his arms, and when you part you can’t repress your smiles as you press your foreheads together.

Michael Myers:

You both know each other from the same local bookshop you hang around at. When you were looking for something new to read and talking aloud with a friend he politely taps you on the shoulder and places Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix into your hands. You get it out of curiosity, and love it of course. You thank him next time you go in, he doesn’t say anything but you can tell from his smile and intense gaze that he’s listening. You ask if he wants to get a coffee and he nods with more enthusiasm than you could expect.

He orders his coffee using his phone, texting out his order of a hot chocolate and offers to buy your ice coffee too. You ask if he’d rather talk over text and he visibly relaxes. When you text you realise how articulate and thoughtful he is, you talk for a long time about books. You both enjoy horror, he seems to have an intense, deep knowledge of the genre as a whole - both historical and modern and across every subgenre you can think of. He isn’t patronising, he doesn’t make you feel stupid, you talk until the shop closes and reluctantly leave after being pushed to by the barista.

He gives you his jacket when you leave and it’s cold, a couple of horrible young men shout homophobic abuse at you which makes you retreat feeling humiliated and sad. Michael squeezes your hand, and manages to distract you by stopping to point out the constellations in the sky.

You invite him in but he quickly tells you over his phone that he’d love to but he has an early appointment tomorrow. You arrange a second date and have a simple kiss. He’s shy, his arms warm and inviting but timid. He’s taller than you and his chin rests on the top of his head.

The next morning you’re checking out the news on your phone, you see a picture of the two men who harassed you yesterday. They both turned up dead in a fountain in the park, found by a dog walker at dawn. In your chest you know exactly what happened, and you surprise yourself by how romantic you find it.

#envi writes #dbd headcanons #dead by daylight #the huntress #Frank Morrison #Susie lavoie #ghostface #Michael Myers

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ncitygirls · 3 years

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only - changbin x f reader

angst, fluff, suggestive, royal!au, cw: war, 5.3k

you were barely eighteen when you accepted the hand in marriage of the son of the duke and duchess of levanter. seo changbin - an affluent heir to an impossible fortune - almost had you surprised when you found his interest in you was unlike that of your fellow bachelorettes. naturally, their interest was fuelled by an insatiable greed and a hot desire for financial prosperity. as should yours, as was yours. not changbin though. no, changbin prided himself on many things unfitting for a man of his status, even his age. he wondered not of your family’s alliances or existing trading partners, but of religion and upbringing. he tsked at mention of your international estates, unless in regard to your memories there. he was complimentary of your attire, less in expense but rather in beauty. changbin wanted to know of your favourite season, and your preferred time of day. who was your favourite poet, and from them your favourite poem. he was obsessed with your knowledge of the world, or rather your interest in it. you had been to neo, but did you really see it, really explore? and if not would you care to? did you prefer sugar or honey in your tea? your bread buttered or oiled? to sleep bare or in silk? he wanted to know what side of the bed you preferred to sleep on, if you were adverse to cuddling and if so, if you could be persuaded.

to be fair, he only spoke with you like this for two reasons. the first being your shared upbringing. after almost two decades of friendship, having you enter his home in the prospect of being his wife didn’t come as a surprise to the young bachelor, but rather a relief. he spent days in and days out discussing family politics, ancestry, and accounts. he chose to ignore the blatant issue there, sharing the intricacies of his family’s wealth and heritage with these ladies from kingdoms and countries he’d been too busy to pay any mind in schooling. he knew his ignorance could come back to bite him and it did, especially as you entered his home looking far prettier than he had ever recalled you looking. he held his tongue before he could whistle, but you could see his smirk all the same. it softened into a grin as he bowed, you returning the pleasantry with a lot less pleasantness than he offered you. he welcomed it all the same. it was why he could be free on this day. speak about the things that would effect you two as one another’s, not you two as one.

your presence also meant he didn’t have to pussyfoot around. he didn’t have to fear your hatred, nor your judgement. though your eyes rolled more than the actual number of potential brides he had become acquainted with. he let f bombs slip, and his guard down. he frolicked with you through the grounds you already knew so well, and guided you through the parts once forbidden to the rambunctious children you once were. he walked you to the kitchen and asked for bread, as opposed to stealing it like you both once would. he tried to describe the estate’s chambers as best he could, detailing the art a then prince hyunjin had gifted him and your childish scratchings still on his door frame.

‘you can see it one day,’ he had whispered under the willow tree on the grounds, watching the way your fingers clung loosely to the weeping leaves. ‘it’s still as it was when we were children.’

‘and how would i do that?’ the question is valid enough, though he frowns, tilting his head. ‘i did not realise i had uttered a riddle, my lord.’

‘well neither had i,’ he tutted, moving to latch onto the same branch you once held. ‘and here i was, assuming you to be the smart one.’

‘i am the smart one.’

‘then answer me this,’ he began, pausing to firmly elaborate, ‘plainly.’ your eyes roll for the umpteenth time at his silent warning before you concede with a nod. ‘how might you see my bed?’

with a sigh you deadpan, ‘if you were to make me your wife.’

‘so to see my bed, and your vandalism-’

‘scribbles.’

‘i must make you my wife.’

‘it seems quite the extreme just to see some old scribbles.’ if changbin senses the hidden meaning to your words, he gave nought away. ‘mightn’t someone just bring me a piece of the bed? i’m sure it’s almost past its use, just peel the pane off. and why still the same bed? you are a young lord of age now, don’t you think-’

‘you know you prattle when you’re nervous?’

‘i do no such thing-’

‘it’s cute.’

‘changbin! how are you so sure i want to be your wife, hm?’ you half questioned, moving away from his looming figure. ‘i only came because your parents asked me here.’

‘y/n, i have known you a long time,’ he punctuates his reminder by closing the distance you so bravely placed between you. ‘if you wished not to be here, you would have found no greater pleasure than to decline the invitation.’ that much is not only true but undeniable. the seo’s was your third courting invite this month alone. you knew, and worse, changbin knew. ‘is it so hard to admit that i might have soften that hardened heart of yours?’

‘i find no pleasure in your games, changbin.’

‘what game, y/n? can a man not just want you?’ your eyes betray you as you try to expel the softness conjured by his taunt. a taunt that is starting to sound less like a taunt, and more like a confession. ‘can i not just want you?’

‘how do i know you want me, bin?’ you pressed, pressing your back to the leaning trunk of the all encompassing tree. ‘how do i know you don’t just want a way out of this endless cycle of mindless heiresses?’

‘you said my parents asked you here?’ your head bobbed as he approached you, nodding in time with you before he stopped a foot before you, smiling eyes gazing right at you. ‘who do you think asked them?’

you were married that fall. under that same willow tree, in the presence of his royal highness and his kin, your family and the seos. the affair was small like you both wanted. small like your needs. you joked marrying you was a cop out, as he spun you around the gardens, escaping the intimate celebrations in the grand banquet hall to enjoy the breeze on your skin and feel the wind in your hair. it was the first time he held you since your dance lessons as kids. where you would lead and he would follow. he once swore he would follow you anywhere. both literally and figuratively. around the grounds of your childhood home, in all your beliefs and ideologies. he filled his mind and self with your gospel and truth, infatuated with your manner of thinking, how you arrived at conclusions. changbin spent his whole childhood falling in love with you.

‘you weren’t a cop out,’ he breathed into the shell of your ear, humming as you lay your head on his shoulder. pressing his lips to your temple he confessed, ‘you were my only choice.’

that night, the two of you consummated your marriage under that same willow tree. his hands clinging to your waist as he ground his hips into you. his tightened breaths filling the drum of your ear with every snap, his lips closing around the skin of your jaw, summoning the most satisfying whines he could draw from you. his lover. his friend. his lady.

in his absence, you remind him of this night. how biting the bark had been on your skin, the autumn air stinging your already teary eyes. his last letter arrived over a fortnight ago, it spoke of his fears at battle, the treacherous methods of his enemies. the only face he prays to see again and until that day, the only face he will dream of. you have sent a handful of letters since then, yet still sour as you awake another day to no news. you sigh as you grab your quill, letting the ink drip before signing off your letter.

‘my dearest, changbin. a season separates us, but only a season could.’

it isn’t long after you seal it that you are summoned to the hwang holiday estate. the royal family have a long history of retreating to the country when the weather is a touch higher than that of luke warm water, or near cool cinder. the seo’s residence is but a short carriage ride from the estate, though a tad longer walk. you often opt to walk as you do today, taking no larger than foot long strides between the cobbled paths. your guard walks in time with you, though no more than a few feet behind. he had never been one for small talk, you quickly came to realise. though, since neither is your husband, you feel an odd sense of relief, normality, even in his absence. you try and enjoy the song of the breeze through the willow, the scent of the king’s rose garden carried on its back. it’s hard over the creak of your guard’s hurried stomps, his pace doubling with every corner you take. you only verbalise your awareness of his impatience when he arrives beside you, hastened to strike the door to announce your arrival.

“master yang,” you call softly as you two await entry. “if i did not know any better, i would say you were rushing me.”

“apologies, my lady,” he confesses, stepping back at your side without any question. though, when he gulps, you eye him with a softened concern. “i was informed you were summoned due to a grave emergency.”

“worry not, jeongin.” you chide, recalling your highness’ idea of an emergency. “the king often calls when the queen is away and he is tasked with matters such as assigning dinner seating.” jeongin looks as if he is about to ask when you add, “she says his involvement humbles him.” when he nods, you straighten as the door swings open, a servant welcoming you in. “yes, there is nothing to fear, master yang.”

only, falser words had never been spoken.

you are quick to note the tremor in the king’s frame as he hurries to stand upon your arrival, rushing you through the official pleasantries of an official summoning. “lady seo.”

“your highness.” you reply, your knee bending as you politely lower your head. “how are you on this fine afternoon-”

“i apologise, y/n. but as you know, i didn’t call you hear on matters of leisure.” he politely interrupts, a flush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks as you frown. “when was last you heard from him?”

“heard from who?”

“from—” hyunjin’s confused gaze cuts to his informants, a few members of his court shying away from him before he marvels at them. “has lady seo not been informed?” when he receives no reply, you feel yourself shrink as the gentle king bellows, “why has lady seo not been informed?”

“informed of what—”

“the order of information begins with yourself sire, before reaching the court, the council, the lady and then the people.”

“i specifically requested she be kept informed. why has she not been kept informed?”

“well, your grace, the lady of a knight is only to be informed once official word is received from the battlefield and delivered to you sire.”

“official word of what—”

“which came through this morning and you are about to deliver the information to the lady.”

“king hyunjin!”

gasps fill the room from all but the king himself. he doesn’t falter, instead he turns to move towards you, his eyes growing more fearful, more earnest as he approaches. he shudders at the thought of delivering this message. he even scolds himself for attempting to delegate such responsibility. you are a friend. not only to the crown, but to the royal family itself. before heavy crowns kissed their heads. before rings ever kissed your knuckles. you were his friend. you had always been a friend to him, and the only time you had ever needed him was now and he had let you down.

“we received word that neo soldiers stormed our fortress in miroh. while we have received word from a few troops who were able to escape, we have yet to ascertain who of the full fleet have made it to safety.” when he pauses to gulp he sees your eyes gleam, breaths shallow. his hands then find yours, gripping your shaky, sweaty digits tightly. “we have received no word from changbin’s troop,” he stops when you gasp, your tears falling, cascading down and around your stained cheeks, your lip trembling. “but we have been able to track a number of our men back through the yellow wood, south of levanter.”

“i-is he there? is he okay?”

“we are yet to hear word,” the tears continue to fall, and he hates himself but all he can do is continue, divulge everything he knows. “they plan to set up camp on the edge of the wood, so i will make my way there now and have word sent back to you as soon as i find him.”

“no,” you refuse, snatching your hands away to drag them over your stained cheeks. “i cannot wait, i will join you.”

“as will i,” jeongin pipes up behind you, his voice an odd comfort once more. “your grace.”

“it is no place for a lady,” hyunjin tries, sighing when you just scowl, already mid curtsey as you preempt his agreement and dismissal. “i will have a carriage sent for you at once.”

“would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?”

“i-it would,” he discloses reluctantly, watching you ready yourself to decline the carriage. “for my sake though,” your scowl returns, ignoring the concern from the king. “i implore you to take the carriage. the yellow wood is far from kind..” you decode his meaning before he ever finishes speaking. the yellow wood is far from safe.

“but is this not the same wood my husband’s troop plans to take, sire?” hyunjin’s nod comes seconds later, shame tensing his jaw. hyunjin is visibly trying to appreciate your patience after having all this information dumped on you. but hyunjin also recalls the threats you readily made and followed through on in your younger years. so much so, he fears the worst of you when you bow before slowly approaching him, voice but a decibel higher than a nat’s buzz to threaten him. the king. before as many witnesses as it takes to have your head. “fine. i will take the carriage.

“but i regret to inform you i have fallen victim to the sick allure of hope. so if this carriage takes him from me? if i am too late? i will burn your kingdom to the ground, jinnie. mark my words.”

only once you leave does hyunjin breathe, noticably shaken by the violent rage existing within the women of his kingdom. “ready her carriage.” he suddenly commands, terrified of letting you down. “i want her there by nightfall.”

hyunjin had not embellished the treachery of this road. you had halted close to ten times in the first six hours of the journey. thanks to forewarning by the king and his council, your guards were prepared to be extra vigilant. weary from all sides of the carriage, bandits who fell from the trees and ambushed from the sides did not live long enough to prevail. from dawn til dusk, the wood falsified night with its woven rotted branches and the gradually setting sun, seeing was becoming more hopeless yet more crucial. without a maid for travelling company and jeongin busy guarding your personage, you were once again left with your thoughts. in times of dire woe, you called on memories of your love, though they read more like dreams. this dream is one that only longing for the man you prayed awaited you on the end of this perilous journey could conjure. because not only do you miss him, you fear for him. not much has changed.

‘you think i am going to get myself killed?’ he breathed, nipping at your clavicle as you rest in his lap. ‘have you no faith in me?’

‘of course i do,’ you defend, gasping as he clamps down, teeth rolling your skin. ‘i just-’

‘you just.. what?’ he doesn’t expect an answer. or so you suspect. especially following a slow drag of your thinly veiled heat over his firmed thigh. ‘you think i would ever abandon you?’

‘no, binnie,’ you start, rising from him with a sigh. ‘i just know you.’

‘you do?’ he ponders sweetly, gazing up at your shining eyes. ‘and what is it you know?’

‘you’re powerful, but far too stubborn.’

‘you know,’ he hums, crossing his thick arms as a small pout steals the lips of the strongest man in the kingdom. ‘for someone who claims to adore me, you tend to speak ill of me every chance you get, my lady.’

‘must the two be exclusive?’ when his frown only deepens, his folded arms tightening, you sigh once more. returning to his spread legs, you perch yourself on them, raising your steady fingers to the creases painting the forehead of the most stubborn man you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. he softens only slightly, his pouted lip closing around yours when you lean in, silently asking his forgiveness. ‘for every ill spoken word, i make up for with countless good, bin.’

‘such as?’ he huffs, knowingly egging you on.

with a small smile, you offer a final peck to his lips before praising the knight beneath you. ‘i know you will fight valiantly.’ you admit, pride permeating right through you to the man you call yours. ‘you will bring honour to your family, to your country.’ with the pads of your fingers, you tuck his hair behind his ear, cooing as he relaxes at your touch. ‘you will be a hero, my love.’

‘and this all worries you?’

‘do you know who will keep your legacy alive, changbin?’ his frown returns at concern for your quivering lip, a sudden fear seeping into your tone. ‘me. your widow.’ he begins to shake his head, a half assed assurance on the tip of his prideful tongue when you remind, ‘it may vex you to hear this, but please remember your knighting was in part an award for your bravery, but also in large part to hyunjin’s love for you.’

‘how can you say that-’

‘since bang chan the brave, name a knight who lived to see his knighting. just one, bin. name one who knelt before their king and felt the sword atop their shoulders. name one who did not die in battle, leaving their grieving widow to accept a meaningless commendation of his honour?’

‘you call your father’s commendation meaningless?’

‘don’t make me laugh, bin.’ your scoff would wound him had you not uttered, ‘i would have rathered he be the one to walk me down the isle the day i married you. knowing my father loved me enough to protect his country is a nice sentiment, but don’t you dare assume i would take that honour over his life.’

‘hey,’ he calls, holding you in his lap as you try to move from him. ‘my love, i didn’t mean to offend.’

‘i know,’ in these seconds you see past the facade, the knight that your husband is. you only see what you fell in love with. you see the compassion, the understanding. ‘bin, i need you to understand. really understand.’ with his cheeks cradled in your palms, you plead with your love. ‘you mean everything to me, seo changbin. before i ever realised you did. i will not let this mindless war take you from me.

‘don’t be a hero, changbin. leave that to some village boy with a chip on his shoulder, with something to prove.’ he nuzzles into your palm as he listens to your plea, gazing into your warning eyes. ‘just come back to me, okay? don’t make me beg.’

‘what if it helped your case?’ he mumbled into your skin, his lips gently puckering as his palms glide up the side of your neck. his tongue slid betwixt your parted lips, trying to exorcise any and all tension from your trembling frame. with another soft pucker of his lips, a suck on your wet muscle has you loosening, falling into him as he moves to embrace you. ‘would you?’

‘do not mock me.’

‘i would never,’ you find this hard to believe as he smirks like a man with ten knives readied for your back. they come as kisses instead, they line the column of your neck, followed closely by his thumbs as he angles your head toward him. ‘you just seem ready to, so i would love to hear it.’

‘perhaps i will marry that lee boy, with the speckled cheeks. i hear the maids think he’s a descendant of fairies, born from the very stars that kiss his face-’ the words halt in your throat as he flips you, firmly pinning you to the goose down.

‘you seem to have thought this through..’

‘have i much choice?’ you huff, glaring at his thoughtful gaze. ‘one tends to ponder such things when faced with their husband’s imminent demise.’ he only sighs, eyes rolling skyward as he asks the gods, old and new, why they ever chose you for him. ‘i hear his line is filled only with beautiful men. who was his ancestor again? minho the something.’

‘you know,’ refusing to come to your aid, he gathering up the hem of your silks. ‘most men would have your head by now.’

‘-magnificent! it was minho the magnificent!’

‘maleficent.’

‘hm?’

‘his name,’ nipping at the exposed skin of your chest, his hand tugs at the starched fabric as he corrects you. ‘it was minho the maleficent.’

‘oh,’ you breathe, less in defeat but rather in sweet contentment. ‘and why is that?’

‘because, my sweet,’ he huffs into your chest, resting on the heels of his palms planted either side of your cushioned head. ‘he burned all of levanter to the ground when his queen died.’

‘yes, he did.’ changbin only strokes the skin of your cheek as you pout, his eyes rolling at your uncanny ability to bring everything back to his encroaching departure. ‘and my husband will not even skip one war for me.’

‘’one war’?’ he smirks, dropping his lips to your exposed breast, tongue sweeping over your teased nipples. ‘you speak as though war is like an evening in a tavern.’

‘both tend to end in regret,’ you jest, or attempt to. it is growing increasingly difficult to barter with him as he presses his lips to your stomach, his body lowering in kind with his touch. before he can disappear entirely from view, you rise. as he rises with you, you are stunned by his rosey cheeks, the flush journeying to his neck as you rest on your elbows. he sees your turmoil. your clear desire for him shadowed painfully by your love and fear. he drops a kiss to your hip, his knuckles dusting the veiled bead of your heat, eyes hard on you as you falter, head lolling to the side before you regain your strength. ‘bin?’

‘hm?’

‘stay.’ it’s faint. so faint he barely recognises it as a plea. he only sighs, his forehead pressed to your abdomen as he purges your wet eyes from his memory. ‘please say you will stay. i cannot bear the thought of a winter without you.’

‘my love,’ changbin speaks into your skin, lowly beseeching your understanding while praying for your peace. ‘a season might separate us,’ he hums, expertly parting your thighs as he offers a lone kiss to your mound. ‘but only a season could.’

“my lady?” jeongin’s voice is first to break you from your nostalgic nightmare. the second is the cries of injured men. “we have arrived.”

the edge of the wood is a wounded minefield. limbless soldiers, knights and footmen alike, are dotted around the dimly lit field. your eyes gloss over at the heaped bodies, and water at the stench. “how long have they been here?”

“just under a week,” jeongin recalls, holding his hand out to stop you as medics pass with a burnt body on a stretcher. “it is hard to believe this is the winning camp.”

“there are no winners in war, jeongin.” you whisper, watching a man close the eyes of his fallen comrade a pair approach to drop his body in a mass grave. a fight ensues. “only loss.”

“y/n?” you halt at the call, half sprinting at the sight of han jisung, wearing a smile warm enough to light the night. “i thought his highness was jesting when he said you’d be here.”

“han!” you cried, latching onto him with a grip that nearly winded him. “thank god, thank god.”

“more like thank changbin,” he wheezed, squeezing you back just as tight, lifting you a few feet off the ground. “had he not been here, i would have surely-”

“where is he?”

“-died.” he only grins as you stiffen, recognising his part in your terror a second too late. “oh! no! he isn’t dead! he is alive! very alive!” his eyes flicker to a scowling jeongin, gulping down an apology as he gestures to his left. “come.”

further from the wood and slowly decaying corpses are the tents. some somehow less grand than a teepee, some spacious enough for a few hours sleep. jisung guides you both up to the largest of the lot, where you find an ill tempered king hyunjin growing increasingly more so. “no, leave him be.”

“had we known you were coming your grace- we can have him moved immediately.”

“your king gave you an order, soldier.” jisung chimes in, tongue slotting into the swell of his cheek as he gestures to you over his shoulder. “now move out of the way or i’ll have you explain to lady seo why she can’t see her husband on account of your insubordinance.”

“yes, sir.”

hyunjin bristles at jisung’s ability to command his men with little effort before he softens at your restless gaze. “he’s been asking for you.”

the grandeur of the king’s tent suits changbin well, you think. a fire crackles at the furthest end, masked only by a large canopy where you know he rests. the four poster bed takes up most of the space, and around it lays tin bowls, rags, blankets and water. the room seems barely lived in bar the knight whose faint breaths float toward you through the warm air. you feel yourself stalling, too busy taking in the space to recognise your fear. what will you find when you pull the curtain away? what remains of your husband, your lover, your friend? will he still have the same warm eyes and full cheeks? will his hands still fit in yours? his feet still step in time with yours? will he look the same, sound the same even? you swallow down this fear, and instead bask in the joy that he’s alive. your husband is alive. and nothing separates you. not a season, nor a wood. not time or conflict. only your fears.

and then they don’t. when you pull back the veil, nothing separates you but air. a soft man made gust as you reveal the man you’d once called your friend, only to call your betrothed and then yours. the fire barely lights the room yet still he glows. he lies bare from the waist up, his abdomen bandaged in rolls of cotton, his chest exposed. you watch it, the slow rise and fall of the place you longed to rest your head, you dreamt of dreaming on. before you realise, you have lowered yourself beside him, careful not to disturb him, nor his wound. before you can call for him he smiles. even in his state of slumber, he leans into your touch. before you meet his eyes, you feel his on you.

“you came.” he whispers, a heavy breath of relief escaping him as your thumb dusts his cheek.

“of course,” you try, before taking your lip between your teeth, fearful your tears might dampen his skin. you kneel at his side, carefully ridding yourself of your outer garments, before returning your hand to his cheek. “how do you feel?”

“now?” he smirks, wincing as a laugh runs through him. “wonderful.”

“and before?”

“so, so.” he murmurs with a kiss to your palm. “a sword to the stomach will do that to you.”

“do i have han jisung to thank for that?”

“no,” he coughs, recalling his sacrifice. “only me.”

“well that’s good,” you hum, employing the upmost care when leaning over him. “because i would hate to think my knight was blindsided.”

“never,” his assurance fans your lips, as yours hover over his. “only by you.”

you almost forgot how it felt to kiss him. the feeling only coming in dreams. there was no memory strong enough to conjure the feeling of his lips pressed against yours. the slow melt of tender skin on skin, the warmth, his gentle caress. his kiss is slow, but even in his prime he took his time. his lips close around yours with such timing and precision, ushering a slow burn of desire from the heels of your feet all the way up to the crown of your head. he knew how to expunge pain and fear from you, to free you from your demons, to reinvigorate you. to love you.

he’s weak. in all the worst ways. his body, his will. he raises his hand to your neck, pulling you closer as he presses his tongue between your lips, connecting the muscles with little intent of parting. he swallows around you, drinking you in, keeping that same, slow and teasing pace. only to pull you closer.

“you need your rest,” you pant into his mouth, resting all your weight on your arms as he pulls you back down, pinning your forehead to his.

“no,” he refuses, sweeping his thumb along your jaw. “i need you.” his voice shakes then, unlike him. unlike the man you know. “only you.”

“is that why you called me here?” you tease, silently wiping his tears away, silently reading the fear in his eyes. he begs them away though warms at your easy dispelling. “to use me?”

“my love,” he laughs, ignoring the pain in favour of basking in your smile. “you know i did not call for you.” when you move to argue, he recalls, as if he were there, “‘would taking just a horse quicken my arrival?’”

“i might have been here sooner if-”

“this,” raising his other arm, he gathers your face in his palms, “is soon enough.”

safe.

“okay.” you agree, allowing him to tug you closer once more. you let him kiss you without restraint. you let him curl his fingers into your neck, ignoring his wincing and kiss him through it. you let his grunts mask his pain, his teeth rolling your lip between the rows, you let him share it. you let him have you, because despite the odds he stayed alive. he stayed alive for you. and that was enough. “i love you.”

he blinks up at your shining eyes, guiding your wet cheeks to his puckered lips. “i love you,” he whispers back against your lips, feeling himself heal at just the touch of your hand. “only you.”

because only a season separated you. but now, not even a season could.

#so #changbin #seo changbin #changbin smut #changbin fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #dno if it counts as angst #stray kids au #ncitygirls #skz au #skz smut #skz changbin #lol it is angst #skz angst #changbin angst #stray kids angst

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mcklunkers · 3 years

Text

You guys know what time it is - shitty Star Wars headcanons 16! Pretty sure it’s 16. Anyway, this set is me scraping the barrel kinda cos I’m running out of thoughts so it’ll probably be a while til there’s more. Enjoy!

- Bly has a dad bod. Aayla loves it because he’s super strong but also a warm pillow which is great. I will not elaborate further.

- Karyn Faro has had an eyebrow slit at least once in her life and it was iconic.

- Younglings sleep in dog piles during padawan selection season to offer comfort and spend time together at the same time.

- Thrawn loves cartoons, it’s art and it’s wholesome media that is enjoyable. He’s a giant fan of Lilo and Stitch especially, and after this many years Eli has to agree that it’s a beautiful film.

- Clone troopers have “intergration weeks” where cadets and shinies essentially complete work experience with an existing clone battalion. This week, for cadets, includes camping and nerf wars. For shinies, camping and paintball. It’s the 501st’s favorite week because it’s fun, fairly relaxing and they get to spend time with younger brothers outside of a war zone. Plus, hero worship from younguns is always fun.

- Anakin used to host a kahoot after briefings to make sure everyone was paying attention. Echo scored the highest in the history of the 501st, but he will never admit that he just guessed every answer and it was a complete fluke.

- Mace Windu has tiny round reading glasses and the council only knows because, despite him keeping them secret for years, little Caleb Dume brought them to him one day during a meeting to make sure he didn’t get a headache because he’s a good grandpadawan.

- Because of all the hand stands they do during their training, a lot of Jedi like being upside. This has lead to Ahsoka, Anakin and Obi-wan being yelled at a lot of times by Padme and Satine for getting boot prints on the back of the sofa cos they watched tv upside down together as a family.

- When Kanan was finding balance again after he lost his sight, a loth cat began following him around because of the vibes he was putting out into the world. The ghost crew called it his “seeing eye loth-cat”. When he died, and the wolves started to follow and watch over Ezra, they were dubbed the “seeing eye loth-wolves”, as they were Kanan’s last connection to the world.

- Somewhere, deep in the depths of Eli Vanto’s hard drive, is footage of Thrawn on one of his days off, in nothing but a long shirt, boxers and thick socks, sliding around his Chimaera office floor to “Old time Rock and Roll” like that one scene in Risky Business. Eli is saving it for a special occasion, most likely Admiral Ar’alani’s birthday, because he knows that all of Thrawn’s friends - both Imperial and Ascendancy - will be there, and the Chiss keeps saying that he’s impossible to embarrass.

- Fives was terrified of spiders, so Echo always used to take them outside when they got into their rooms. After living with the Bad Batch, that became Echo’s job again because the only one on that ship not scared of spiders is Omega, and she’s too short 90% of the time.

That’s all I’ve got, I’m rewatching rebels so there’s a lot of Kanan and Thrawn smooshed in there, but I hope you enjoyed lads! As always, my inbox and asks are always open so feel free to share thoughts!

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celest1all · 4 years

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jealousy • [d.m]

pairing: draco malfoy x slytherin!fem!reader

summary: the green eyed monster strikes again.

warning(s): swearing, angst, thinking about hexing/jinxing someone, heart-break, sad, nails digging into palms, anger, crying, badly written.

author's note: okay i didn't expect for this to be as long as it was, i expected it to be a small thing (or smaller than this aha) but here we are. it's angsty, it's sad, it's draco. have fun my lovelies.

"What the bloody hell are you playing at?"

The delightful silence that came with sitting on one of the benches in the hallway of Hogwarts was quickly disrupted by a cold, drawling voice shouting your name.

Closing your Defence Against the Dark Arts book that was currently in your lap, you turned to him with an eyebrow raised. "How wonderful it is to see you again, Malfoy."

You and Draco had been 'friends' since birth. Due to both your families sharing the same Hogwarts house, Slytherin, and that you too were Pureblood, it was written in the stars that the children of the Malfoy's and the [L/N]'s would become friends, or at very least, acquaintances.

Except from the fact that the leading emotion that was between the two of you was an intense hatred, a need to outsmart and prove the other wrong at any chance that seemed to present itself.

"Missed me that much that you had to track me down?" You smirked, crossing your leg one over the other and you leant your chin on your palm. "Or do you need me to help you with your Transfiguration work again?"

Draco clenched his jaw and rolled his hand into a fist, nails digging into his palms. "I'll repeat my last question [L/N], what the hell are you playing at?"

You frowned and shook your head at him, even though the smirk that played upon your lips was still visible. "I have no clue what you're talking about. Please elaborate for those who are unfortunate enough to not be on the same wavelength as the one and only Draco Lucius Malfoy."

The way his name rolled off your tongue further added to the blond's anger, wanting nothing more than to hex you for being such an arse. "Why don't we start with the fact that you told Pansy Parkinson that she shouldn't go out with me because--what was it?" he looked around briefly before staring right into your eyes "oh yeah, because I like to use the Cruciatus Curse on my girlfriends."

Oh. That old chestnut.

"Are we on the same 'wavelength' now?" He cocked his head to the side, still staring at you with his piercing eyes, turning all your insides into ice.

Your hands started to become incredibly sweaty so you wiped them on your skirt before placing the DADA book on the bench beside you. You stood up and faced Draco. "That was just a harmless joke," you lied, swallowing a lump in your throat. "technically it's on her if she believed it."

Draco gritted his teeth, vexation flowing through him quicker than his own blood. His fingers flexed and he resisted the urge to pull out his wand and to jinx you, nothing too serious, just something to make you regret what you had told Parkinson.

Thankfully, he didn't otherwise he wouldn't only have Snape on his back, he would also have your parents and his and he couldn't deal with the mess that came with that.

You quickly glanced down at this arm, not failing to notice the way his fingers were silently itching to go into his robe pocket and whip out his wand. Logically, you knew he wouldn't dare, but then again, this was Draco.

"Okay," you breathed out, making Draco snap his head towards you. "okay fine, I admit it." You ran your fingers through your hair slightly before pinching the bridge of your nose. "I meddled."

He raised his eyebrows at you, "I think you did a bit more than meddle, [L/N]."

"What the fuck do you want me to say?!" You shouted at him, anger getting the better of you. "Yes I lied to Pansy, and yes I know it was a significant thing to lie about, but you can't stand there and act like you're the epitome of innocence."

You had no idea where your little outburst had come from, but you knew it wasn't over yet. "And what's that supposed to mean?" Oh, and there it is; the catalyst.

Eyes boring into his, you said, "Third Year, Potions class." Draco shrugged at you, unsure where you were going with this. "Snape partnered us up to make the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons and you told me -- and I quote -- '[Y/N], if my parents force me to marry when we are older, then I hope that it's you.'"

"I said that?"

Your stomach dropped, did he really not remember? Sure, you were far from nice to the boy, but you couldn't have covered up your feelings for him that well surely.

"Y-Yeah." you cursed yourself for the crack in your voice, "yeah you did."

"What in Merlin's name does this have to do with what you said to Pansy?" Apparently he was still upset with you, understandable really. Looking back, it probably wasn't the best way to go about getting together with Draco, but jealousy's a bitch.

"Do you really not get it?" You asked him, to which he shook his head. "I was fucking jealous!"

Well that definitely confused Draco. Jealous? What reason did you have to be jealous of him? Unless it wasn't him you were jealous of...

"Ever since that damned Potions class I realised that I love you!"

Love. That word frightened Draco more than You-Know-Who, you couldn't possibly love him. No, not at all. That's simply ridiculous.

"You don't love me." He stated.

"And who are you to decide that?" You replied, frowning.

"Because I don't love you." He spat, making you recoil in surprise and hurt. Truthfully, he didn't know whether he loved you. Sure, you spent your early years growing up together and all, but that dynamic changed when you both got to Hogwarts. There was never any lovey-dovey moments, no heart to hearts, nothing. It was just bickering and mere hatred, nothing else. Right?

You felt your heart shatter in two pieces, parts of it digging into your every being, draining any inch happiness that once resided.

Draco saw the pain flash across your face and felt something aswell; guilt. He did that to you. He made you feel that. Even though moments before he was going to jinx or even hex you, this seemed worse. It was worse, and he knew.

Nodding at him, either in embarrassment or just plain devastation, you said "Right. No, of course not."

Once again, Draco saw the instant regret that had adorned your facial structure, regret in telling him your feelings. And he loathed it. "[Y/N],"

"No, it's fine." You swallowed your tears down, looking anywhere but him. "I'm gonna--I'm gonna go."

Once you went over the bench you were previously sat and collected your things, you began to leave before Malfoy called your name again. You looked up at him briefly, "Look, don't worry. I'm not going to tell my parents so you don't have to deal with that shit storm and I'll tell Parkinson that I lied."

When you both made eye contact, he recognised the broken remnants of your heart in your eyes. The one he had broken without knowing he even was capable of breaking it. It was only ever his to break and he did.

"Go and get the girl you want, Draco. I'm sure she will be over the moon." You smiled weakly at him before walking past him, the smile dropping instantly, making room for the sobs that had been edging their way out of you.

He heard you, he heard every sob, every hiccup, every heart-breaking cry you made through the Hallway, echoing all the way back to him. And it hurt him. Not only did he tear your heart in millions of pieces like a howler after it was done shouting, but you still managed to be the bigger person.

You always managed to be the bigger person.

Always.

#angst #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagines #draco x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #harry potter imagines #draco malfoy x you #reader insert #draco malfoy one shots #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy x [Y/N]#draco malfoy x yn #draco sadness

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yoonjinkooked · 3 years

Text

CHEMISTRY | JHS (3)

PART 3 - ONE KISS

(pls ignore my old URL, i’m too lazy to change it now RIP)

DRABBLE SERIES, TONS OF SHORT LITTLE CHAPTERS.

SERIES MASTERLIST Pairing: Hoseok / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: FWB, university AU, smut (a bit of a slowburn)

Warnings: cursing, alcohol, hot Hoseok who knows what he wants, kissing (is that a warning), the deal is almost made, JK has a bad music taste (not really tho)

Word Count: 5k

Summary: After a few years of being immune to Jung Hoseok’s charms, you suddenly fall into them, head first. All it takes is one night, too much alcohol and a lot of balls.

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts since OCTOBER and i finally edited it today because I can’t f-ing get Jung Hoseok out of my head. Sigh. Let me know what you think! I’m balancing this story with others and I hope I’ll have an update for you soon!

As the days passed one by one you knew that the luxury of avoiding Hoseok is going to escape your grasp soon. Frankly, it’s a miracle you’ve been able to avoid him as long as you have and with Yoongi’s birthday this weekend, you know your lucky streak will break soon.

You didn’t expect it to break before that, not really. But here you were, minding your own business, studying on campus in a makeshift picnic setting and taking in the first proper rays of sunshine of the year, when he popped up from the tree behind you, very clearly cornering you.

And scaring the living daylights out of you too, as you end up clutching your chest and cursing at him while he laughed his ass off at the sight of you freaked out. “You nearly killed me, you idiot. Was it worth it?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he laughs as he plops down on the grass next to you, completely casual, as if nothing between you has changed. To be fair, perhaps it hasn’t, in his eyes. “Let’s be honest here Y/N, I had to ambush you. You’ve been avoiding me for days,” he emphasises and although you wish you could call him out for being overly dramatic, you couldn’t. Leave it to Jung Hoseok to not beat around the bush and call you out directly.

“It wasn’t that bad,” you mumble, not even bothering to try and deny. That makes him laugh, a sound that sounds so misplaced in your current setting. It feels wrong to openly discuss the awkwardness that has formed between you while he is literally laughing at it.

“You ran out of the cafeteria the other day so fast, Namjoon is still calling you Speedy Gonzales,” he jokes, laughing harder when you curse that traitor under your breath. At least he is joking around with you. You wish he would ignore it altogether, but it could be worse.

“I’m sorry,” you let out a groan, consciously avoiding making direct eye contact with him. “You know I can get awkward like this. It’s not your fault, it’s… all me.”

“Y/N, come on,” he leans closer to you and nudges your shoulder with his. “It’s me you’re talking to. There’s not a single reason to avoid me. We are both consensual adults who wanted to make out at a party. It’s as simple as that.”

This time, you turn and give him a good look, unsurprised to find a content smile on his face. He is bright and positive just like he always is, to the point of it being both annoying and overbearing at times. He has always been a great friend but there were times when his positivity and energy were too much for a grumpy ol’ potato of a person that you are 24/7. Now, however, you are glad for it. Unlike you, he obviously wasn’t beating himself too much about what had happened between you.

“So, what you’re saying is that you’re not feeling awkward and I shouldn’t either?” you ask.

“Exactly,” he shrugs. “You are… one hell of a kisser,” his eyes widen in a way that makes it seem like he is shocked by how good of a kisser you are.

“Hoseok, please,” you hiss at him, not even caring if he was telling you the truth or lying to spare your confidence. You are embarrassed and he knows it well.

“I mean it!” he laughs, amused by your sudden shyness – it’s a side of you your friends are not used to seeing, simply because you don’t normally do shit you’re ashamed of, at least not when they are directly involved. And if you do, more often than not, you own up to your bullshit. You’ve had your fair share of moments that would normally be counted as humiliating, only to brush them off casually and move on with your life. Not this one, though.

“You need to stop,” you laugh awkwardly, hoping that this conversation will simply end. “I was drunk, I came onto you way too strong and I am pretty sure I used way too much tongue.”

“If you think that I didn’t find it hot how confident you were that night, I’m afraid you don’t know me well,” he bites back. You are instantly shocked, not imagining him taking the conversation in that direction and also shocked by the nature of his admission too - Hoseok always struck you as more of a hunter than prey. You didn’t exactly keep track of his hook-ups but you were fairly sure that he was the one who initiated them more often than not. “And for the record, it was the perfect amount of tongue.”

Oh good lord. If you knew he would say the things he is saying, you would have tried desperately to avoid him for… well, the rest of your life, really.

“Please stop before I dig a hole for myself, right here, right now.”

“Why are you acting so shy about this Y/N?” he is laughing, once again nudging you with your shoulder, which only makes it more obvious to you how close you are sitting next to each other. Before, you wouldn’t bat an eye. Now, it’s driving you mad. “You know me, I don’t bite. Not unless you want me to, that is,” he adds cheekily.

“Oh, I noticed, my neck had a lovely little souvenir,” you reply before you could realize what you were even saying. There’s no way he’ll let it go now and the worst part is, you don’t even want him to. You’re saying that you do but in reality, you yourself are finding ways to deepen the conversation. This whole thing is crazy and… wrong! “Why are you making it sound like you want to do it again?�� you whine, wishing he would just be up for forgetting about it.

“Well… I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

You turn your head towards him so fast, you strain your neck and wince in pain, reaching at it with your hand. “Are you okay?” he asks, wide-eyed and worried, as he watches you rub your neck and grimace in pain.

“Am I okay? Are you okay?” you counter, completely floored by the words that left his mouth seconds ago. You have avoided him because you’re an awkward idiot, not because you thought that he’d be up for a re-run. “Did you just suggest what I think you suggested?”

“To be fair, I didn’t suggest it, I simply said that I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” he shrugs.

“Hoseok,” you glare at him, making him laugh. Even now, he laughs.

“I mean… why not?” he shrugs casually and all you can do is stare and blink dumbly at him, reminding yourself that you’re supposed to breathe, too. “If that party showed us anything, it’s that we definitely have chemistry that… goes beyond friendship. I’m not looking for anything serious and as far as I know, you aren’t either,” he continues and after a few seconds of silence, you realize that he’s waiting for some sort of a response from you. Unsure of what to say, you simply nod your head - after all, it is true. You are not looking for a relationship, not after the last two ended in tears and you drowned in vodka and chocolate ice cream. “Why not… take advantage of the opportunity?”

“I’m gonna need you to elaborate on what that opportunity is,” you’re not sure why you are even asking him that, when you know damn well what he is implying. You suppose that it would settle the last remains of doubt if you were to hear him say it more directly.

“Two single, and if I may add, incredibly good looking, friends who want, or in our case, don’t want the same things,” he cocks his head to the side, a small smile on his face. He looks way too cute for someone who is suggesting you sex with no added obligations. If you are not terribly mistaken and he has something else entirely on his mind. “Why not take advantage of the situation? And the chemistry - holy hell Y/N, you know we have it.”

He’s… absolutely right. Despite being drunk, you can clearly remember how… feverish you felt that night. You just wanted to keep kissing him, annoyed when you had to part for one second to simply breathe. If you had one more drink in you or if there had been fewer people around you, you’re not sure if the night would end with the two of you fully clothed. You have amazing chemistry as friends and you felt the sexual side of it that night. It would be stupid to deny it when you know well how rare it is to simply click with someone in the manner that the two of you had clicked that night.

“We do… but we’re also friends. And you know how shitty deals like these can end,” you point out the obvious. There are millions of books and movies about how ‘friends with benefits’ is a horrible, terrible idea because there’s an incredibly high chance of it ending in tears. “One of us could end up taking that chemistry to the next level and catch feelings. I’m not good in chemistry – I’m an art history major for a reason,” you joke, relieved when it actually makes him chuckle.

“That’s a good point. But we’re also really good friends, Y/N. We know each other well and we talk. If it would become too much for one of us, we could simply… talk. And I’m not suggesting anything… specific. I’m not here saying we should hook up until one of us decides they want to move on,” he tells you.

“Dude, you’re confusing as fuck,” you sigh, laughing along with him. “What are you suggesting then?”

“I’m just saying,” he grunts as he stands up, pausing to wipe down his jeans, while you make a conscious effort of not looking down because... thighs. “The next time you’re drunk, horny or bored, or even all of the above, you know where to find me.”

He looks down at you, the smile gracing his face slowly turning into the tiniest of smirks, before he gives you a wink. And with that, he simply turns around and walks away, leaving you with your mouth open, looking like a complete idiot while you try to figure out what the fuck just happened.

Nah, you know damn well what just happened. You have enough dating and flirting escapades behind you to recognize the look of someone who’d be happy to fuck you. The particular someone being Jung Hoseok is what is leaving you absolutely shocked and at a loss for words. As honored as you are and as much as the offer is… incredibly tempting, this is not something you can decide on the spot.

No, because you’re a dumbass. Of course you can’t decide this on the spot but you could decide in a matter of seconds that you want to stick your tongue down his throat and let him grab your ass while you grind on him as if your life depended on it. You weren’t expecting this turn of events and unsurprisingly, you have no idea what you should do about it. It’s tempting, in all the wrong ways, but it is also making alarm bells in your head go off. It could easily end in tears - the real question is, would it be worth it?

It took three full songs for you to start wondering if you have stepped through a time machine when you’ve entered Seokjin’s house. How Jungkook managed to convince Yoongi to let him DJ at his birthday party was a mystery that you at first ignored, but by the time he played that one Nicole Scherzinger and 50 Cent song, you’ve decided to investigate. “How much did you pay him to let you DJ?” you laugh at your friend, who looks up at you and grins, dancing in place with his trusty neon green Beats around his neck.

“Come here baby, hey be my baby, hey be my baby,” he sings at you, making you roll your eyes.

“Fuck Jungkook, please don’t drop out of school, you need that degree more than you know,” you say as you offer a comforting pat on his back.

“For your information, the theme of the party is ‘guilty pleasure’,” he announces with a proud smile. “And Nicole just so happens to be mine.”

“You and me both,” you admit with a huff, turning around to scan the room in the search of Jin - you’ve been looking for him for the past couple of minutes, with no luck. “Did you see Seokjin? He went to make me a drink with the gin from his expensive stash, but it’s been like… half an hour?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nods, pointing behind you. “He’s right there with Hobi.”

Those were the only words you needed to hear in order to know what you must do next – hide. You did not bother checking, you did not look back – you simply dropped down to the ground and plopped your ass right next to Jungkook’s feet. “Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” your friend laughs, looking down at you in disbelief. “Are you still hiding from Hobi?”

“No, I’m sitting here because the view of your thighs is nice,” you roll your eyes. “Of course I’m hiding from Hobi! I’m not mentally prepared to deal with him right now. Although, you do have weirdly muscular thighs,” you add absentmindedly - what is it with them and thighs? First Hoseok, now him - do they only do leg days when they hit the gym?

“Stop,” Jungkook laughs down at you. “Are you seriously planning on running from him forever?”

“Not forever,” you shrug casually. “Until the end of the year, maybe.”

“I mean, I can’t stop you… but you do realize that if he finds you here, it’s going to look like you were giving me a blowjob or something?” he pointed out, eliciting another casual shrug from you.

“Good. He’ll think I’m busy and leave me alone,” you offer Jungkook an angelic smile. He knows better than to push you – when you want to, you can be stubborn as all hell and sadly, Jungkook’s has plenty of experience with being on the receiving end of said stubbornness.

You know what he’s thinking – you can tell from the way he shakes his head and decides to ignore your presence by his feet while he focuses his attention to that god-awful playlist of his – you know exactly what he’s thinking and he has a point. You’re pathetic. A coward. An idiot.

You have shamelessly lied to yourself earlier tonight, as you were getting ready for the party. You’ve told yourself, repeatedly, that you are ready to face Jung Hoseok, despite not knowing what your answer is to his suggestion from a few days ago. You have convinced yourself that you were ready to face him. Seeing as you're hiding behind a damn desk, just meters away from him, it’s pretty obvious that you are not.

He hasn’t left your head in days, to the point of even appearing in your dreams, even if he was just on the sidelines. For years, you have been blind to all the gifts Jung Hoseok has to give, and now they’re slapping you in the face all day long.

You want him, that much you’re ready to admit. Definitely to yourself, perhaps even to him. But are you willing to put an entire friendship on the line and go through with that desire? That’s not a question you know the answer to. For the time being, you will just… keep on hiding behind the makeshift DJ booth, until Jungkook informs you that the coast is clear.

“We’re drinking that whiskey tomorrow, got it?” Yoongi asks, referring to the birthday gift you’ve given him earlier, which he had to hide in one of Seokjin’s spare bedrooms, given that the house is full of people who’d drink anything that’d fall into their hands. “You and me, tomorrow night, drinking back at my place. Let’s make it fancy. Wear a beret or something.”

“Why would I wear a beret while drinking whiskey?” you laugh in confusion. “What’s the correlation?”

“Both are fancy,” Yoongi shrugs and after a few seconds, so do you. If he wants to drink expensive whiskey whilst wearing a beret, that’s what you’re going to do. Having a drink or two with Yoongi, in almost complete silence, has become sort of a tradition for the two of you. Compared to the rest of your friend group, you and Yoongi are the quieter, less social ones. How you wound up in a circle of friends that include permanent hyper bunny Jungkook and Mr. Loudest-Laugh-Ever Jin was beyond you.

“Can I join?” you hear Joon’s booming voice. He approaches the two of you, throwing a hand around your shoulder. Glaring, you grab a hold of his hand and move it away from you, watching as Yoongi laughs in confusion at your open hostility towards Namjoon.

“Not you,” you point a finger at him accusingly. “I’m still pissed at you. You haven’t gotten to your redemption ark yet.”

“What did you do now?” Yoongi sighs, looking at Namjoon as if you were not in the middle of the conversation with him.

“I teased her about hiding from Hobi,” Namjoon announces with a shit eating grin. “Guess Speedy Gonzales here doesn’t like to hear the truth.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely avoiding Hoseok,” you admit shamelessly – it’s become obvious now, why would you bother to deny? “I just don’t want to talk about it and you can be one pushy bitch when you really want to.”

“You’re both idiots,” Yoongi shakes his head, sighing. “I truly wonder why I’m friends with you?”

“Well, I buy you good whiskey. Dunno what’s his excuse,” you offer Namjoon one last glare. Deciding you’ve had enough of his judgment and teasing for one night, you beeline towards one of your two safety nets – Sana. As good of a cover Jungkook was, you didn’t want to cockblock the poor boy all night, and he has been talking with some freshman for the last couple of songs. Sana, being practically your only female friend in existence would definitely be more willing to help you out, but by the time you’re halfway towards her, you notice that she is talking to a senior she’s had a crush on pretty much since you’ve met her.

Brilliant. You can either find a new cover or be a cockblocking friend. Whatever you decide to do, you need a drink first. Settling for cheap gin this time around, you venture into the kitchen, ready to get wasted and cursing under your breath at Jungkook’s horrible taste in music, as you are forced to listen to Ginuwine’s ‘Pony’ at full blast.

One more drink and it’ll be socially acceptable for you to leave the party. You’ve stuck around for long enough, even managing to enjoy yourself a little bit. Not enough though, not compared to the tension that you’ve been feeling in your gut even before you got here.

“Hi.”

If you were holding your drink, you would have dropped it. Even the sound of his voice is enough to make a shiver run down your spine. Closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, you muster enough strength to turn around and face him.

Nope, that wasn’t enough strength. You needed more. You needed more to face Jung Hoseok, in ripped skin tight jeans, a black shirt with a v neck, messy hair and a smirk on his face, casually leaning on the wall next to the kitchen door. You could have taken an hour to collect yourself and prepare for your pending doom, and it would not be enough to prepare you for the Hoseok you were facing now. Especially when he is smirking at you, looking at you like he knows exactly what thoughts are roaming around your head. Add to that the horrible soundtrack courtesy of Jungkook, and you are overcome with a sudden wish to die, right here, right now.

“You’ve been avoiding me again,” he points out the obvious.

“And you’re cornering me again,” you argue back, hoping that he didn’t notice you gulping, literally gulping.

“I’m not cornering you,” he chuckles. Your eyes go wide when he stands up straight, no longer leaning on the wall. Slowly, he starts walking towards you and you walk backwards right into the table, no longer having room for an escape. He stops in front of you but he’s too close, too close for comfort, to the point of you being able to see a single freckle on his nose, despite having a decent amount of alcohol in your system already.

“Oh no,” you suddenly move to the right, towards the door, towards your escape. “Stay away from me, Satan!”

“Satan?” he laughs in disbelief.

“Yeah, Satan,” you confirm without a second thought, looking at him up and down. “Did you look into the mirror before you left your house? You’re sex on legs, Hoseok. So yeah. Satan.”

“For someone who’s about to run for the exit, the words you’re saying are making me think you don’t really want to do that,” he laughs, although he doesn’t step any closer to you. As ready as you were to call him Satan just seconds ago, you see his true good self shining through. He’s chasing you, very obviously so, but he is not pushing you too far and you know that he’ll recognize if he actually should step away. He doesn’t want to literally make you run in the opposite direction and the space he leaves between you is confirmation of that.

“You think I don’t want to run?” you ask and immediately he nods. “Maybe. You’re here. You’re hot. For some reason I can’t fathom, you want something with me. That’s inviting, yet very scary at the same time.”

“And do you want something with me?” he asks, no longer smirking.

“Honestly? Yes and no,” you answer, cursing yourself in your mind – alcohol always makes you talk more than you should. But in this case, maybe that’s exactly what you need - just a little bit of honesty. “I’m attracted to you, you’re an amazing kisser and we’re both single. Why not? And the answer to that question is simple - we’re friends. There’s… way too much at risk here, Hobi.”

“We’re better than that,” he shakes his head immediately. “We’re not stupid, horny teenagers. We know each other well. We’d be mature enough to stay friendly, or at the very least cordial, no matter what happens.”

Both of you do have a reputation of remaining friendly with your exes. Except for your last one, but that’s a story you don’t wish to revisit, especially not tonight. Broken hearts mend with time, people grow, find others and life goes on. If you set the terms the way you both want them, in theory, it truly doesn’t have to end in tears.

“What exactly are you offering me? And miss me with that ‘whatever you want’ bullshit you offered me the other day,” you interrupt him, chuckling when he closes his mouth dumbly, obviously having been ready to say just that. “Do you want to make out? Do you want to fuck me? Once or on a regular basis? To kill time until someone better comes along or in the hopes of it becoming more? I can’t make a decision if you don’t tell me exactly what you want, Hoseok,” you tell him. You were honest with him and now, it’s his turn.

“I want you.”

“Effective, but not effective enough,” you mumble, ignoring the stirring in your stomach that started as he said those words with… earnesty, with meaning. Hearing that you are wanted is always a good fluff up for an ego, but to hear it said like that, dead seriously, by someone you find incredibly attractive? It’s so good, it’s borderline painful.

“I’ll take what you give,” he shrugs casually. “What do you want?” he throws the question back at you. Shameless is what he is.

“A husband, two kids, two dogs and a house with a white picket fence?” you joke.

“Y/N,” he glares playfully at you, laughing. “You might want that down the road but do you really want that now?”

“God no,” you snort in response.

“So what do you want now?” he asks again. “It can be a one-time thing. It can be regular. As you said, we can kill time until someone better comes along,” he rolls his eyes at the phrase, obviously not liking the sound of it. “It doesn’t have to be sex, for all I care. We can just fool around at parties. Or we can pretend like none of this ever happened and just continue being just friends,” he shrugs.

“When you say it like that I wonder if you even want anything from me,” you laugh.

“Y/N, I have barely been able to stop thinking about kissing you ever since that night,” he deadpans, looking straight at you, not a trace of teasing or joking on his face. “Which was pretty horrible, seeing as you’ve been avoiding me and I had a molecular biology paper to finish. I do want you, probably more than you realize or want to accept. And I’m taking whatever it is that you offer. If I had my pick, we’d be friends that… occasionally become more than that.”

“So, to put it in simple terms, you want a friends with benefits thing with me?” you ask.

“Yes. But if you don’t want that, I’ll respect it and stick to it. You’re my friend, Y/N,” he smiles at you and it’s almost calming to be on the receiving end of his genuine smile and not that evil smirk that does things to you. “I’m not losing that friendship if I want to fuck and you don’t. So… whatever you want to do, that’s the way it’s going to be.”

Here you are again, faced with an opportunity that you know will likely end badly for you, perhaps even both of you at once. And again you wonder, if all the possible negatives are worth it - worth of finally succumbing to this sudden and overwhelming desire you feel for Hoseok. Turning his offer into reality… is it worth it?

“I need to think about it,” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m not thinking straight right now. I’m not wasted, I’m just… hazed. Horny. However you want to call it. And I don’t trust my judgment around you right now. If we go through with this, I need to have a clear head when making the final decision.”

“Take all the time you need,” when you open your eyes, he’s smiling at you still. “I do have two tiny requests, though.”

“Shoot.”

“Please stop hiding from me. It’s weird and I think you’re scaring Jungkook,” he grimaces.

“You saw that?!”

“Of course I did,” he laughs. “It was cute.”

“Stop!” you order him.

“Okay, okay, I’m stopping,” he lifts his hands up as if he’s surrendering. “I’m pretending you didn’t duck and hide when you heard I was around,” he laughs. The fucker knows how embarrassing it is for you and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“What’s the second request?” you ask, desperately wanting to change the topic.

“Would you let me kiss you again?” he asks.

“Hoseok…” both your words and eyes are warning, as it’s going directly against what you want right now - a clear head. Kissing him would muddle it all, you know it. Not to mention how easier it would be to take things a notch further, given that you both know now that you want more.

“Just one kiss,” he elaborates. “It’s not gonna turn into a kitchen make out session or something more. And if you don’t want it, it’s not happening. We’ll never do something you don’t want, Y/N. You know me, I’m not like that.”

You do know him and you clearly remember him refusing you at first because he thought you might have had too much to drink and were acting out. You didn’t, you were well aware of what you were doing. Yes, you had no idea why you were doing it but your actions were not a drunken side-effect. Not then and not now. And damn it, you really want to kiss him again.

“One kiss,” you lift your hand in warning, but that was enough for him. He takes a few steps and closes the distance between you – was he being deliberately slow or were you imagining things, you’re not sure. All you know is, it lasted enough for your heart to start going into overdrive even before your lips met his.

It’s just a kiss, but at the same time, it isn’t. He’s not grinding against you, he’s not groping you, he’s not taking it anywhere it shouldn’t go. His hands are in place on your waist, gentler than you remember them being the last time. He’s respectful and careful, in every way except with the actual kiss. Before you even get to mentally prepare yourself for it, he parts your lips with his and tongue meets yours.

You’re the one who moves. You’re the one who threatens to take this further than it should go, as you put your hands around his neck and run your fingers through his hair, pressing your body just a bit closer to his.

It’s his fault. His kiss made you do it. He’s way too good of a kisser for his own good.

Thankfully, the one who initiated it is also the one who pulls away. Breathless and with eyes on your lips, Hobi moves away, letting your hands drop out of his hair as he keeps a safe distance.

“One kiss,” he repeats your earlier words. “Until you tell me you want more.”

Yeah, it meddled with your mind. Despite telling him you need more time to think about it, you know it’s already settled in your mind. You’ll definitely be coming back for more.

#hoseok series #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #hoseok fwb #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btshoneyhive #thebtswritersclub

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arumin-arureruto · 3 years

Text

Honeytea PT 2

Kyoya x fem reader and Hikaru x fem reader, Kyoya angst, Hikaru slowburn.

Warnings: none

word count: 1.7k

songs to listen to while reading:

What Am I by Why Dont We

Greek God by Conan Gray

hikaru’s outfit:

Reader’s outfit (your outfit can be whatever you want this is just what I had in mind while writing <3):

Cafe Hikaru and reader are at:

you woke up with the sun shining on your eyes, reaching out to feel the spot where your husband had been sleeping cold and empty, he had already left for work. Last night was emotionally exhausting, you had a fight with Kyoya and called Hikaru while your emotions were running high, even though you woke up feeling calmer it would still be nice to see him. You decided to get up and check your phone to see if you were still on for today, there were 6 unread messages from Hikaru.

“checking if ur okay”

“meet me tomorrow at 12pm for lunch at that cafe near my house, the one Honey got banned from”

“btw how the fuck do you manage to get banned from a restaurant for eating too much cake”

*picture of a single spoon inside a sink* “lol me”

“I should probably go to bed now goodnight”

He hasn’t changed a bit since high school, that’s what was so comforting to you about Hikaru. He took you back to a time where everything was much more simpler, lazy afternoons on the grass with the host club, drinking tea by the window in music room 3 with Kyoya, study sessions with Mori and Honey, getting into all sorts of mischief with Hikaru and Kauro, quietly reading with Haruhi, piano lessons from Tamaki…

All those memories started playing back in your mind and you started to feel all warm inside, you really didn’t know how good you had it. It’s not that you weren’t happy, you were married to the man you loved, you were one of the most respected and powerful women in society, what else could you ask for? But sometimes it felt like you were missing out on something, like your world could be so much more. When you mentioned this to Kyoya a couple months ago he suggested you try for children but you quickly shot down the idea, you were 23 and he was 24, having kids right now would be too big of a responsibility.

Shaking those thoughts from your head you checked the time on your phone, 10am. You still had 2hours before you had to meet Hikaru so going back to sleep was a tempting offer, but considering the cafe was almost 30 minutes away and you got easily distracted while getting ready it would be wiser to start picking out some clothes and getting in the shower. There was about 45 minutes before a maid was supposed to come in and clean your room so you figured that should be enough time to take a quick shower, you could just ask them to wait till you were done but you always felt awkward doing so.

After zoning out for a minute you headed for the shower, got undressed, put your hair up and turned on the hot water, you already washed your hair yesterday so there was no point in washing it again. You had always loved showers, the feeling of the warm water on your skin, the sound of the water dripping on the floor and the smell of all your products were enough to wash all your problems away. After about 25 minutes in the shower you turned the water off and stepped out, already missing the warmth of the water. After quickly drying yourself off with a towel you started massaging some lotion into your skin, first your arms and then your legs, this was your favorite part of your routine. When you felt that you had enough lotion on already you put on a robe, walked out of the bathroom and towards your walk in closet. It was september so the weather was still warm, today would be a simple dress day, or as simple as you could. Downside of being married to Kyoya Ootori: having to keep up appearances ALWAYS. After picking out a dress it was time for shoes, you gravitated towards a gorgeous pair of open toed gold heels that would’ve gone really well with your dress, but your legs were still slightly sore from last night so sandals it is.

After scrutinizing every part of your outfit and make up, which in the end you decided to go with a simple eyeliner, mascara and gloss, it was already 11:15. You grabbed your purse and asked someone to bring the car around. You hurriedly walked down the large staircase, excitement clear in your step, you got inside the car and gave a quick hello to the driver.

“Good morning Mrs Ootori, where to?”

“Morning Ryuzaki, Honeytea Cafe.”

“Understood ma’am.”

After giving your instructions you pressed the button to lift the divider between the driver and the backseat, needing to be alone. You hadn’t seen Hikaru in person since your wedding reception, you talked on the phone occasionally but always for less than 2 minutes, this was the first time in months you would be in the same room again. Was it gonna be awkward? I mean you did call him yesterday late at night crying so what if he thought you were weird? No, no, this was Hikaru, your best friend since your first year of high school, everything was gonna be fine.

The 30 minute ride felt like it went by in less than 15, After getting to the cafe you told Ryuzaki to go back home and that you would call when you were done, since you didn’t know how long you would take. 11: 52pm, 8 minutes till you were supposed to meet Hikaru, meaning you had 8 minutes to get your act together.

You stepped into the cafe and scanned the place, 6 years and nothing had changed. Still the same old tall bookshelves lined the walls. The same paintings on the walls, and just like you remembered, peace and quiet. Since the cafe was a bit old fashioned it tended to attract an older crowd, old people just trying to enjoy their coffee and adults in their 30s that wanted a quiet place to work. While you continued to examine the room, lost in your own world, you felt a pair of slender hands on your shoulders and heard a familiar voice coming from behind you.

“Taking a trip down memory lane while blocking the way huh? Honestly y/n I thought commoners taught their children better manners.”

At first you were startled but then you quickly turned around to face the voice and there he was. Tall, mischievous smile and wild hair, Hikaru Hitachiin in the flesh. “Hikaru I-” you hugged him before you could even finish your sentence. You stood there with your arms wrapped around his neck in silence for a couple more seconds.

“y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re still blocking the way.”

Oh right.

Behind you 2 old ladies stood with unpleasant expressions on their faces, you both moved out of the way to let the ladies through, they walked past you and muttered something about today’s youth having no respect for their elders. You stood there slightly embarrassed, heat rising to your cheeks while Hikaru looked like he might burst out laughing.

You decide to grab a table at the very back of the cafe, away from everyone else. After you sit down Hikaru strikes a conversation. “Haven’t seen you in a year y/n, how’s married life been treating you?” He propped up his elbow and leaned his head on his hand, keeping his eyes focused on you.

Damn so we’re already on that topic.

“We’ve had our ups and downs, what about you? How are you and Kaoru doing?” Hopefully he won't bring up your phone call from yesterday. “We’re doing pretty good, Kaoru actually started seeing someone a couple months ago. Cute boy he met at an art gallery.” You could hear the tiniest hint of jealousy in the last part, but overall Hikaru sounded happy for his brother. “Oh he did? That’s cool” you stay silent for a couple seconds before proceeding with what you were saying. “And how do you feel about Kaoru seeing someone?” Hikaru’s eyes shifted from you to the table and kept them focused there. “In the beginning it was weird, I hated the idea of having to share him with someone else but now, I see how happy he is with Evan and that’s all that matters to me.” He looked up from the table to look at you and smile, then he spoke again but this time in a more playful tone. “So are we eating or what? Man were you seriously gonna let me starve? Typical Ootori.” That comment made you laugh, you really did miss him.

You both ordered and paid separately, since you knew you would argue over who would pay the bill. After you both received your food you sat down to eat, while you ate you reminisced about the past and talked about all the trouble you used to get into back in the day.

“No no, you were the one that tricked Tamaki into dressing up as Haruhi to fool the doctors during the physical exam that one time.” He laughed and pointed at you with a piece of bread. “Whaaaaat? Me? I would never, I was just an innocent bystander” you defended yourself while also laughing, then you remembered something. “No but for real that one wasn’t my idea, actually Kyoya came up with it.” Hikaru stopped laughing but still had a smile on his face, he then asked you a question.

“So Kyoya…” There was a pause before he spoke again.

“You mentioned you have your ups and downs, I’m guessing yesterday was a down?”

The food that was in your throat had trouble going down, you tried to quickly swallow and answer Hikaru’s question. “Yesterday was definitely not one of our best days” You let out a nervous laugh. Before you could elaborate a middle aged man came up to your table and asked if he could borrow one of your chairs for his daughter, seeing that you were both already finished with your food you told him he could have the chairs and got up to leave.

As you were walking out of the coffee shop Hikaru tapped your shoulder.

“Hey my house is just a 5 minute drive from here, we could go there if you wanna talk more in private.”

#kyoya ootori #ouran high school host #ouran high school host club headcannons #kyoya senpai #ohshc #hikaru x reader #hikaru hitachiin #ohshc hikaru #ouran kyoya #kyoya x reader #ohshc kyoya

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

Futures past pt1 / On AO3

Nie Huaisang, sitting cross legged on his bed, tilted his head. It was a rather warm early evening in spring, and he had been getting ready for bed, so he was wearing only his inner clothes, and his hair was done in quick and messy braids so they wouldn’t get tangled during the night. Since he hadn’t been expecting anyone save perhaps his brother, if Nie Mingjue felt in the mood to shout at him for skipping practice again, his room was an awful mess, the floor covered in copies of some prints he’d bought recently. Tasteful prints, at least, not that it would have shocked his visitor too much if it had been porn, he guessed.

“I think I should scream,” Nie Huaisang said without conviction.

“But you won’t because you’re too curious,” Nie Huaisang retorted.

At least, Nie Huaisang thought that was himself. The man who had suddenly appeared in the middle of his room had his eyes, his nose, his lips, his general shape of face, even if his jaw was much sharper. He dressed well, in the sort of ornate styles Nie Huaisang absolutely would do if his brother weren’t forcing him to be reasonable, had a gorgeous fan in his hand, and wore an elaborate guan in his hair, the perfect picture of a rich and refined scholar. He didn’t even bother carrying a sabre, which Nie Huaisang found very satisfying for some reason.

“I don’t have time to play games,” the older man announced, opening his fan with an elegant yet disdainful gesture that his younger self hoped to reproduce someday. He supposed he would, in time. “I am you, from the future. A little over twenty years, if you must know, and it is not a pretty sight here. Some people are going to make a mess of things and while I’ve done what was needed to right every wrong, I don’t see why I shouldn’t try to prevent those wrongs.”

Nie Huaisang hunched up, one elbow on his leg, his chin resting in the palm of his hand.

“I don’t think you’re me. I wouldn’t ever put that much effort into anything. Good try on the disguise though. It’s a bit rude you didn’t make me taller, but it is a good detail, it really sells it.”

The man threw him a disgusted look. “Sometimes, I understand why da-ge ended up like this,” he muttered. “I really was insufferable. Listen up. When you were seven, you stole da-ge’s favourite robes, the set he always wore to go to conferences. You thought they were the prettiest thing you’d ever seen, and you wanted to try them on and pretend you were, against all evidence, as great as da-ge. You wore them for less than an incense stick’s time before dropping ink on them. They were completely ruined, in spite of your efforts, so you just burned them.”

Nie Huaisang startled so badly he half fell on his side, before scrambling toward the back of his bed, suddenly terrified. That incident happened years before, and he’d never told anyone. Nie Mingjue had been furious for weeks. To that day, Nie Huaisang still didn’t know how he hadn’t been discovered… but it was something only he knew, something he’d never shared with anyone.

He stared at this cold, distant man in front of him, with his venomous eyes and disdainful air, and didn’t like what he saw. How could that be his future?

Guessing his thoughts, the man smiled.

“Da-ge dies in a few years,” he announced, startling Nie Huaisang again. “It’s tragic, and cruel, and we’re going to do everything we can to avoid it. You’re going to help, of course.”

So shocked he couldn’t breathe, Nie Huaisang weakly nodded.

It seemed impossible that his brother could ever die, least of all that he might die in the twenty years to come. He would have said the same of his father once, certainly, but his father was well into his sixties already, and anyway he was murdered so it was not the same.

Nie Huaisang gasped and grabbed his pillow, hugging it tight against his body for comfort, as if he weren’t already fifteen and far too old for that.

“When you say da-ge dies, you mean… he’s going to be killed by someone,” Nie Huaisang guessed, curling up on himself, hoping to be wrong.

The expression on the face of that man he would become softened.

“Maybe you’re not hopeless,” he said. “Maybe all I needed was a chance to do a little more… Yes, he’s going to be murdered. Or he would be murdered. We won’t let it happen. You won’t let it happen. I’m only here for a little time, it’s not easy to come here, but I’m hoping to return in a few months if all goes well.”

Something relaxed in Nie Huaisang’s shoulders. It seemed his brother’s death wasn’t something that would happen in the very near future then. That was a relief, when Nie Huaisang was about to leave home and go study for a year in the Cloud Recesses. From all the way down south, it would have been difficult to protect Nie Mingjue.

“So, what am I supposed to do then?” Nie Huaisang asked, still clutching his pillow. “You’d know I’m not much good at anything, so why aren’t you trying to warn da-ge directly? Oh, or am I the only one who can see you?”

“I’m… not sure if others can see me,” the man admitted, hiding behind his fan at that admission, exactly as Nie Huaisang did when embarrassed. “And I don’t have enough time to experiment. Besides, da-ge is so stubborn, he wouldn’t trust a stranger so easily. He can’t be blackmailed over a burned robe.”

“Rude!”

“That’s what you get for calling me short. Now come over here, grab something to write. I don’t want you to forget any of this, and I know how your memory is. Hurry!”

Nie Huaisang reluctantly let go of his pillow, and hopped down from the bed, grumbling the whole time. What was the point of being sent to the Cloud Recesses if he ended up becoming a man with such dreadful manners?

He grabbed a brush, hastily prepared some ink, and sat on the floor before looking up at his future self, waiting for instruction like a sullen child forced to listen in class.

“The first thing you need to know,” the man before him said, “is that there’s going to be a war with Qishan Wen.”

“Duh,” Nie Huaisang retorted, rolling his eyes. He wasn’t the brightest person in the world, but even he could guess as much. “Is that how da-ge dies?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. As if even Wen Ruohan could do anything to him!” his older self said, with a mix of disdain and pride. “Da-ge becomes a war hero, of course. But that war is what will eventually cause his death. Not that it matters yet, you have about two years and a half before the war starts, so…”

Nie Huaisang dropped his brush with a gasp, splattering ink over his sheet of paper.

“Two years? The war is in just two years?”

His older self clicked his tongue impatiently.

“Focus! This is irrelevant right now! What matters is taking measure so certain things don’t happen during that war. Now, the most important would be…”

He paused, looking down at Nie Huaisang. The longer he stared, the more annoyed the older man appeared. That look of frustration was one Nie Huaisang was quite used to, especially coming from his elders, but also sometimes from people of his own generation. He usually didn’t mind, though just a week before one kid half his age had looked at him like that over his posture during sabre practice, and that had stung a little, to be honest.

More often than not, people would accompany that exasperated stare with a ‘what will we do with you?’ and though his older self didn’t say the words, he was clearly thinking them.

“There’s a boy, living in Yunping City, named Meng Yao,” the man announced, before giving a number of details about that boy, such as the name of his mother, the address where he might be found, his age, his looks, and plenty other things. Nie Huaisang wrote it all down, and even doodled a very quick portrait based on that description, to which his older self nodded, looking nearly approving for a moment. Before Nie Huaisang could enjoy that, the man turned grim again. “You have to find this boy, and make sure he doesn’t join Lanling Jin. Do you understand? No matter what, Meng Yao cannot join Lanling Jin. If he does, there will be great risk to da-ge.”

There was an odd inflection on that cannot. Or at least, it was odd to hear it coming from himself, because it was the tone of voice people had when saying it’d be a shame if Wen Ruohan choked on his next meal, or if Jin Guangshan’s dick got chopped off by a demon on a Night Hunt.

But that Meng Yao was just a boy, just a few months older than Nie Huaisang himself. Even if he became a danger in later times, for now there was no way he could harm anyone. And even if he couldn’t join the Jin, there might be other sects, if he was so determined to be a cultivator. Maybe he could even be brought into Qinghe Nie, if he had real talent. Nie Mingjue didn’t care much what people’s origins were as long as they worked hard, though it was an opinion not everyone in the clan shared. It’d be a great way to kill two birds with one stone.

“Is he going to be a problem soon?” Nie Huaisang asked. “Only, it’s not like I can travel on my own, and Yunping City is pretty far from Gusu anyway, and…”

“A few weeks after your arrive, Jiang zongzhu invites Lan Qiren and his nephews to help him with a creature that causes problems near Yunping City,” his older self announced, lazily fanning himself. “I didn’t go, personally, but I’m sure you could find a way to go along. You’ll have to, it’s your best chance. Speaking of which…” he closed his fan with a sharp gesture and pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh. “You have to get Lan Xichen to trust you in the future, so take this year in Gusu as a chance and become the best friend he’s ever had.”

Nie Huaisang nearly dropped his brush again and grimaced.

“Oh. Do I really have to? I mean, he’s so…”

He made a vague hand gesture, words failing him to describe Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen wasn’t a bad person. That wasn’t it. He was, in fact, very good, everyone said so. He was smart, and polite, and well educated, and amazing with cultivation, and with martial arts, and… and he was just so boring. He was, without a doubt, the most boring person Nie Huaisang had ever met. He was always too careful when speaking, too serious, too perfect, too much exactly how grown ups thought boys their age should act. He was an old man’s idea of a young man. He was really, really boring and while Nie Huaisang was very glad his brother had at least one friend, he was very judgmental toward Nie Mingjue for having chosen such a person for a companion.

If his older self’s dark expression was anything to go by, Lan Xichen’s personality didn’t look like it improved much in the future.

“I wouldn’t do this if there was another choice,” the man said. “But if da-ge couldn’t properly burn bridges with san-ge, then it’s pointless to try driving him away from er-ge, they’re too close. So you’ll have to do what’s needed to save da-ge, and become friends with Lan Xichen. It is vital. We’re going to do what we can so da-ge doesn’t die, but if it still comes to pass, you’ll need allies and I suppose that’s at least one thing he might be good for. Let’s see if he really meant what he said that time,” Nie Huaisang’s future self muttered somberly. “I don’t expect anything to come of this, but it can’t hurt.”

“But I don’t want to be friends with him,” Nie Huaisang grumbled.

“Good, because he won’t be your friend,” the man retorted coldly. “Don’t get attached to him, he’s not worth it. But make sure to become someone he’ll fully trust. Make yourself dearer to him than even da-ge is. Nothing less than that will do.”

That sounded even more difficult and boring than actually becoming friends with Lan Xichen, Nie Huaisang thought. He pouted at the perspective of such a daunting task, wondering if he really loved his brother enough to put so much effort into saving him.

“I don’t even know how to become close to Lan gongzi!” he whined. “He doesn’t like anything interesting, he’s the most boring person in the world! How do I…”

“Figure it out!” his older self snapped. “Do you think I’d be here if I knew how to deal with him? Besides, I’m running out of time already. I’ll try to return to you a month after Qingming, when the spell has recharged. It should be before the Night Hunt in Yunping City, but you’ll need to have made progress with Lan Xichen already. Remember that we’re doing this for da-ge!”

Before Nie Huaisang could protest, the man standing before him suddenly disappeared, leaving no trace of his presence. It would have been easy to think it nothing but a dream, if not for that detailed list of information about that Meng Yao from Yunping City. Even like that, it really was unsettling, and Nie Huaisang stayed frozen in place for a long while, kneeling on the floor, staring at a list about a boy he was maybe supposed to kill. It seemed like complete madness, and maybe he should have ran to his brother, explained everything to him, except…

Except there had been such pain in his older self’s voice every time he spoke of Nie Mingjue, and his anger at having failed to protect their brother in his own life had been obvious. Something had happened there. Something he hadn’t even explained, Nie Huaisang suddenly realised. His older self hadn’t told him how their brother died, and how could he convince Nie Mingjue that he might be in danger when he didn’t even know who would strike him, or when?

It might be better to wait then. After all, Nie Huaisang’s older self had said that Nie Mingjue would be a great hero in a future war, and that war wouldn’t start for over two more years. Until then, Nie Huaisang might as well try to meet that Meng Yao when he had the chance, and he would also (he shivered in distaste) try to see what could be done about Lan Xichen. Having come to that conclusion, Nie Huaisang carefully folded the sheet of paper containing his notes about Meng Yao, and put it away. He then cleaned his brush, put some order around him, and finally went to sleep.

His last thought was that next time, when his older self returned, he would definitely ask more details about Nie Mingjue’s death.

In the days that followed that encounter with his future self, Nie Huaisang made efforts to be a better brother. He still wasn’t sure how much he believed about that encounter he’d had, but it certainly made him quite sentimental to realise that Nie Mingjue would die someday. It was clear that there would be a war soon after all, whether it happened when his future self said it would or not, and people certainly tended to die during conflicts.

So as he finished preparing for his rapidly approaching stay in Gusu, Nie Huaisang tried to fully enjoy his brother’s company and commit every moment spent together to memory, in case something happened.

A very noble sentiment, except his brother was a complete pain in the ass.

If Nie Huaisang hugged him, Nie Mingjue asked him what he’d broken this time, or what favour he was about to request. If Nie Huaisang suggested they spent more time together, Nie Mingjue just took him to the training grounds and forced him to practice the sabre, or even worse tried to spar with him, which was cruel and barbaric.

Nie Mingjue was the absolute worst person in the entire world, and while Nie Huaisang was still going to try his best to keep him alive, he wasn’t sure why.

Because Nie Mingjue was so unbearable and annoying and unable to appreciate his brother’s immense kindness, Nie Huaisang found it a relief of sorts when he finally left for the Cloud Recesses.

The trip itself was nothing memorable. Nie Huaisang spent most of it wishing he had a golden core so he could fly his sabre and go faster than this carriage, or trying to figure out how he was supposed to befriend the oh-so-boring Lan Xichen. By the time he and the disciple accompanying him reached Gusu, he still hadn’t found an answer to that problem. He would have to figure it out on the fly then.

The carriage was left at the foot of the mountain where the Cloud Recesses laid, and the long trek by foot started. Nie Huaisang, adverse to any unnecessary physical effort, found that he didn’t actually mind too much going up the mountain. The landscape was so exquisite there, every turn of the path revealing something worth painting. On the few occasions he’d been there before to accompany his brother at conferences, he’d always admired how Gusu Lan had found such an amazing place to live in, and promised himself he’d make the best of things if he ever got to come study there. He would have forgotten to bring his sabre if Nie Mingjue hadn’t packed it for him, but his luggage was full of paper of the highest quality, and it wouldn’t be used to take notes.

At the gate of the Cloud Recesses, Nie Huaisang and his brother’s disciple had to wait to be brought in. Because he was a somewhat more important guest than some of the other visiting disciples, Nie Huaisang was greeted by Lan Qiren in person, his eldest nephew in tow.

While Lan Qiren guided him inside and explained a number of rules he didn’t intend to follow, Nie Huaisang couldn’t help observing Lan Xichen with more attention than he’d ever done before. He was somewhat handsome, if you liked that sort. A little tall and gangly, though it was less jarring when he wasn’t hanging out with Nie Mingjue who was older and had fully finished growing. Nie Huaisang figured that hanging out with him would at least give him something nice to look at, even if he didn’t expect the two of them to ever find much to talk about.

“And this is where you will be staying,” Lan Qiren announced when they arrived in front of a small house. “We will let you get settled and rest from your trip. If you have any requests…”

“I’d love a tour of the Cloud Recesses!” Nie Huaisang said without thinking, then turned to look at Lan Xichen. “Lan gongzi, would you please give me a tour? I’m sure there’s no one who could do it better than you.”

Since they had never spoken much before, Nie Huaisang had of course expected that Lan Xichen would be a little surprised over such a request. But Lan Xichen wasn’t just surprised, he was shocked, his eyes opening wide and his face growing pale, as if Nie Huaisang had just grown a second head and announced he’d be feeding on the blood of infants. Lan Xichen’s polite smile even dropped for a moment, though of course it quickly returned. In a moment, he had regained perfect control of himself, but Nie Huaisang was still puzzled and entertained by that extreme reaction.

“I’m glad Nie gongzi thinks well of me,” Lan Xichen said calmly. “But I am sure I can find someone better suited to give you a tour.”

“But I want it to be you,” Nie Huaisang insisted, pretending not to notice the other Nie disciples glaring at him for already causing problems on his first day. “It’d be nice if it were you. Da-ge always says you’re so clever and knows so many things, so I really want you to be my guide.”

Lan Xichen appeared to hesitate. Nie Huaisang braced himself for rejection. He hadn’t expected to have his caprice granted anyway, and just wanted to throw it out there that he was going to be pestering Lan Xichen in the future. Then, to his surprise, the older boy nodded.

“Very well. I will give you a tour this afternoon, Nie gongzi,” Lan Xichen said. “I have no urgent obligations, and it is the least I can do for a friend’s relative. Unless shufu has objections?”

Lan Qiren had none. The Nie were left to settle down, promised lunch would be brought to them soon, and then Lan Xichen would come in the early afternoon to show Nie Huaisang around, while someone else would do the same for the other Nie disciples. It was a great plan, a great occasion for Nie Huaisang to gain Lan Xichen’s favour as instructed… and it sounded impossibly boring.

All too soon, the time for that tour came. Nie Huaisang, unhappy with their too simple accomodations and the unappealing meal they had been served, was not in a great mood when Lan Xichen knocked on the door. He had been in the Cloud Recesses less than half a day, and already the place disappointed him.

To his credit, Lan Xichen wasn’t a bad guide. He made sure to match his pace to Nie Huaisang’s as they walked, he had something to explain about nearly every building, and patiently repeated the most important rules of life in the Cloud Recesses which Nie Huaisang had ignored when Lan Qiren gave them. It was easier to listen to Lan Xichen than to Lan Qiren anyway, there was a certain warmth to his voice that his uncle simply lacked. Lan Xichen could probably have made a lecture sound like a conversation. It would have been a very lovely time, if Nie Huaisang had cared about any of that, which he didn’t. Everything in the Cloud Recesses was about cultivation and rules, which was nearly as boring as the Unclean Realm where everything was about cultivation and martial arts.

“And what do you do for fun here?” Nie Huaisang desperately asked after a while when Lan Xichen explained that a certain building was meant to enhance the effects of meditation.

“The library is that way,” Lan Xichen announced.

“Does it have anything fun, or is it only cultivation treaties?”

“We collect poetry and history treaties as well,” Lan Xichen said. “And music sheets, of course,” he added after a moment, looking uncomfortable. “I… are you much interested in music, Nie gongzi?”

Nie Huaisang shrugged. “No, but I guess it’s better than cultivation, as far as fun things go. I’m supposed to learn the guqin at some point, but it’s hard to find the time, and da-ge prefers that I focus on the sabre.”

“Qinghe Nie has traditionally been more focused on martial arts,” Lan Xichen noted. “Though since you are here, perhaps you might enjoy trying different things. You are here to learn after all.”

Nie Huaisang stared at the older boy with surprise. Up until then, Lan Xichen had never seemed to care what Nie Huaisang did or didn’t do, and he never contradicted Nie Mingjue whenever his friend complained about having a lazy little brother who wasn’t interested in the things he ought to have been interested in. Without being sure, Nie Huaisang suspected that Lan Xichen thought him a little stupid, and just not very skilled in general.

“Maybe it’s worth a try,” Nie Huaisang mused. “I do like music a lot. My father used to say I have a good ear for it. Not like da-ge. He wouldn’t know one melody from another even if his life depended on it!”

“Is that so,” Lan Xichen weakly replied, turning very pale, as if he might faint.

“Lan gongzi, are you unwell?”

“It’s nothing important,” Lan Xichen said, smiling again in that annoying manner of his. “Let’s continue walking. I think you really might like the library, and then… it wouldn’t be part of a normal tour, but would you like me to show you the way to the back hills if we have time? I remember your brother mentioning that you like birds, and there are many to be seen there.”

“That would be lovely,” Nie Huaisang agreed, surprised and delighted by that offer. It was likely that Nie Mingjue had just been complaining about that particular hobby of his, as he so often did, but if Lan Xichen had translated that into something positive, Nie Huaisang was glad. “Do you like birds as well, Lan gongzi?”

“I’ve never paid them much attention,” Lan Xichen admitted. “I suppose they are fine creatures.”

That, clearly, was all he had to say on the subject. It was a very boring answer, Nie Huaisang thought. But then, Lan Xichen really was a boring person, so that was no surprise. Nie Huaisang thus dropped the topic, and forced himself to pay some degree of attention as Lan Xichen resumed talking about the history of the Cloud Recesses.

At least, the library really did seem quite interesting, aside from all the cultivation texts. And since they actually managed to check the back hills for a little bit before dinner, Nie Huaisang had the pleasant surprise to find that there were a great many birds there, as well as plenty of spaces to explore, and quite a few vistas to paint.

Getting along with Lan Xichen was going to be so boring, but at least the rest of his stay could be turned into something quite fun.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #double time travel #jau writes

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neutron-stars-collision · 4 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 4 - Bound by Fate

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3

Summary: You travel to US to meet The Protagonist. There you learn that you have much bigger part to play than expected...

Warnings: None.

Author’s Notes: 4k, ladies and gentlemen! Sorry! Thank you for all the kind words and as usual welcome all the feedback. Enjoy!

When Neil said that he intended to jump on the plane to the US soon he meant it. Friday afternoon you found yourself aboard an 8-hour-long flight to Boston with seats in business class. While going to see the Tenet’s founder in person was bound to be a good excuse for missing the training, you did worry about being behind. As soon as the plane has reached cruising altitude, you took out the notes with serious intent to focus on them. You also wanted to avoid sharing an awkward silence with Neil. But it was not meant to be.

“Are you going to study now?” he asked, peering incredulously over your shoulder.

“And why shouldn’t I? Got eight hours to spare” you sent him a glare and looked back at the pages.

“Well we could always talk…” he spoke up after a brief silence and you eyed him suspiciously.

That was tempting, you had to admit. You have barely spoken to each other since the day he came back, except for the conversations about the details of the trip. Yet after everything that happened you were grateful for that. But now, with stress about the upcoming meeting rising exponentially and tiredness gnawing at your brain, maybe it was time to change it. Before you could answer, you were interrupted by the smiley stewardess passing through:

“Drinks? Snacks?”

You immediately turned to Neil, glaring at him with a clear message: don’t you dare. But he only smirked at you and answered the flight attendant:

“Vodka tonic and whiskey coke. Thanks” your murderous frown had no effect on him.

You resorted to staring at the little flight map on your screen until the drinks have been served. Once the stewardess has moved along you went back to shooting daggers at Neil:

“What? Are you not a whiskey coke kind of person?” he asked with that innocent smile.

“I am” you admitted, and he grinned in response “But are we even allowed to drink on the job?”

“Technically we’re not on the job. Yet” he took a sip of the drink nonchalantly and you took the liberty to observe him.

Once again he has ditched the suit jacket and wore a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. You had to admit that it did look good on him. His hair was in perfect state of dishevelment and you briefly considered brushing it away from his eyes. But his intense stare stopped any intent you could have had.

“I never asked how you’re settling in” he spoke after a beat, looking at you with genuine interest.

“Well it’s not your fault I decided to get a whiplash that day” you joked and enjoyed the laugh it prompted “I’m managing. Like I said at the party, it’s difficult to understand and inversion is tricky but it’s so fascinating” the sparks in his eyes urged you to continue “When I finished uni I never thought I could have a chance to work for an organisation like Tenet. The best I wished for was the UK Government” you grimaced at the idea “Still no clue what the nuclear fission is though” you added and reached for the drink.

“The offer to help with physics still stands you know” Neil was looking at you with a gleam in his eye.

“And I’ll surely consider it” you winked, feeling glad you’ve ditched those notes.

“What’s your favourite part of the training?” he has turned in his seat so that he was facing you.

“Probably guns”

“Good choice” he sent you an impressed smirk.

“Well maybe not the inverted rounds, but all the different types of arms and artillery are fun to play with” you elaborated with a gleeful enthusiasm.

Neil smiled at the sight.

“My sources tell me your good at shooting too” he added after a short break, eyeing you with interest.

“I’m not a rookie” you shrugged “And apparently have a good eye as well” you held his gaze, feeling a boost of courage “Maybe one day I’ll show you”

Neil stared back at you with a slight shock on his face. He recovered quick enough to retort:

“Can’t wait” he smirked, and you looked down suddenly aware of what you said.

Can always blame it on the alcohol, you thought while staring at your lap. But before you could overthink it, Neil reached out and tipped your chin so that you met his gaze. He was smiling at you, but this time it was not a cocky grin. He searched your eyes for a short moment, making sure you were fine before dropping away his hand. You stared back puzzled, but before you could think about it too long, he asked:

“So it’s fair to assume that you don’t hate me for introducing you to this madness?”

“Could never” you laughed, and he grinned back “Even though I must admit I became quite a loner because of it. It’s hard to have friends when you train at a secret spy agency”

“There’s always me” he shrugged.

“I can’t say I know you” you replied truthfully and took a moment to stare at his face.

He nodded, accepting your statement and then smirked. You watched, wide-eyed, as he undid the top button on his shirt and leaned into the seat. If he noticed your silent panic, he did not show it.

“What do you want to know?” there was something almost challenging in his gaze.

You took a moment to recover before thinking hard about what to ask. You knew that this was potentially a one-off chance to learn something about him.

“How long have you been doing this?” you gestured vaguely.

Neil frowned, thinking hard and you focused on the face he made.

“Four years, I think” he ruffled his hair again “Thinking in linear terms is difficult after all those inversions” he added with a little smile “I’ve been recruited by the TP while still at my old job”

“What were you doing before?”

“I’ve been in the Navy” you stared at him surprised “Turns out they are willing to take in lost Physics students”.

He noticed your dazed look and grinned:

“What? You thought I was an ex-MI6 agent or something?” he cocked his eyebrow.

“Well you could definitely be a James Bond” you muttered and ignored the smug smile you got in return.

“I met TP one day while on the field mission in Asia and we cooperated very well so at the end he asked me to join Tenet. Naturally I said yes” he explained, and you nodded “You don’t turn away an offer like that. You know that best” you exchanged a smile “Has that satisfied your curiosity?” he finished the drink and turned to look at you expectantly.

“A bit” you admitted.

Before you could say anything more you yawned widely and then looked at Neil sheepishly.

“Shit, sorry. Swear am not that tired”

He laughed, looking at you softly:

“Maybe my life story was that boring”

“Certainly not” another yawn and you covered your face with your hands.

“You can sleep, we still have six hours to go” he reassured you.

You felt very tired. All those hours of training and the stress made you feel worn out. So you decided to give in, letting your head lean on the headrest and reclined the back of the seat.

“Wake me up for food” you joked and closed your eyes, feeling Neil chuckle next to you.

Slowly you felt yourself drift off to sleep, hoping your dreams won’t make you regret the decision when you wake up.

*** First thing you noticed after waking up was that you no longer had the leather head rest acting as your pillow. Instead it was something warmer and firmer. You could smell intense cologne and that revelation made your eyes widen. Somehow in the sleep you have moved so that your head was resting on Neil’s shoulder. And judging by his small smirk he was fully aware of that and did nothing. Quickly you straightened and looked at him shyly. He grinned and said:

“Don’t worry, they haven’t served the food yet”

“Great” you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

You opened the notes again and forced your brain to focus on the nuclear fission. You felt Neil’s gaze on you and fought hard to ignore it.

God, this is going to be a long journey…

*** You managed to avoid further humiliation by focusing on studying during the rest of the flight. Neil has even contributed with a couple of explanations. Hearing him talk about the atoms and electrons with passion made you want to ask him about the topic again.

Once you landed in Boston, he practically dragged you through the customs and the arrivals hall. You stopped outside by the taxi stop and you finally caught your breath:

“We’re getting a taxi?” you looked sceptically at the forming queue.

Neil finished typing a message and glanced at you:

“Do you think we’re on a budget cut?” you laughed at his affronted expression.

“Judging by your suit…” you eyed him quickly “Most certainly not”

“You like my suits?” the hint of the sly grin started to form on his lips.

You were saved from answering by a black Tesla stopping in front of you. Neil opened the door and gestured for you to get in.

“Got to admit that this organisation has a good taste in cars” you noticed.

“Maybe one day you’ll get one those” Neil winked, and you grinned back.

You watched through the window as the the city sights passed by, curious about Boston. You were headed to the outskirts of the city, judging by the signs on the highway. After a short silence, you asked Neil:

“So… the Protagonist. What is he like?”

“He’s...” he took a moment to think and you observed him with interest “Fun” his face lit up “Charismatic. And very mysterious but not in an intimidating kind of way”

“You’re close with him?”

You liked the happy smile that showed on his face.

“You could say so. When he hired me, Tenet was only starting out and it was mostly us two on the missions” he recollected with fond look “These days he rarely goes into the field but if he does, it’s usually with me”

“A dream team” you grinned, and he chuckled.

Suddenly the car stopped, and you looked through the window at the building exactly in front.

“Welcome to the Tenet Headquarters” Neil grinned at you widely as he opened the door.

You got out of the car and stared at the tall glass building with a large parking area and a tall fence. Following Neil, you showed your ID to the security camera and walked through the sliding door. Interior was very like what you were used to in London, but more modern. As soon as you entered, a tall man in a suit approached you:

“Welcome back Neil!” they exchanged a handshake “And it’s nice to meet you” he turned to you and you accepted his hand “I’m Richard”.

“Y/N” you smiled.

“TP wants to see you now” Richard spoke to Neil “And he’ll talk to you both later during dinner” he explained.

“That’s good news as you can continue that nap” Neil glanced at you and you glared.

“Very funny” you muttered and chose to ignore the curious look Richard gave you both.

“I’ll show you your room now” the agent broke the awkward silence.

“Okay” you moved to follow him with your duffel bag thrown over the shoulder.

As you passed Neil, he swiftly squeezed your hand and then disappeared into on the side corridors. You briefly wondered why that became a goodbye gesture between you.

Not that you did mind.

*** You never got to have that nap. While the room Richard lead you to was very like what you were used to in London, your brain was too hyperactive to let you rest. Every time you shut your eyes, you kept thinking about the upcoming meeting and all the what ifs. Finally you gave up with thirty minutes left till the dinner and got ready. When Neil knocked on your door, you leaped out of the room, fuelled by anxiety.

“Everything alright?” he asked once he saw your wild gaze.

“Yeah, I’m just scared, that’s all” you admitted and looked at him pleadingly “Can we please get going before I change my mind?”

He eyed you carefully, making sure you were indeed ‘okay’ before pointing the direction of TP’s quarters.

“There’s no reason to be scared” Neil said after few minutes of tense silence “He’s probably the nicest person here” he looked at you with a reassuring smile.

“Nicer than you?” you looked at him sceptically.

Being this anxious meant that you no longer cared much about what you said. In this case your voiced thought was awarded with a sly grin from Neil.

“Oh you think I’m nice?” he winked, and you laughed despite the tension.

“I’m not so sure anymore…” you sent him a fake glare.

“You can think about it again after the meeting” he replied and gestured towards the door to your left “Here we are”.

You stared at the door, fighting the fleeing instinct. As though Neil knew you can run away any second, he took your hand in his and knocked on the door. Approximately five seconds later the door opened to reveal a smiling man in a suit. He exchanged a happy grin with Neil and then looked at you with interest. When his eyes darted to your linked hands, you felt your face heat up and was surprised to see him smirk knowingly. Before you could overthink it, TP broke the silence:

“Come on in” he smiled at you.

You had the strange feeling that he was looking at someone he knew very well. You ignored the spike of anxiety, let go of Neil’s hand and followed the Protagonist. His quarters had a separate private bedroom, a briefing room and a living area with a large table, set for dinner. When you all sat down, Tenet’s founder addressed you:

“First of all, I want to say I’m excited to finally meet you” he smiled at you warmly and you beamed back.

“Didn’t know I’m that important” you admitted and was surprised to him amused “But I’m glad I can be here”

“You probably have a lot of questions” you just nodded “But I thought it’s best we eat first. Is that okay?”

“Sure”

Once the food has been served by the cooks from the mess hall, the conversation has changed onto more mundane topics.

“So, what were you doing before Tenet?” the Protagonist asked you.

“I actually finished university not that long ago” you answered “I graduated two years ago and since then only did some part time jobs”

Neil was looking at you across the table with a surprised expression. You tried to search his face for answers, but he schooled his features before you came to any conclusions. After conversations about your past and how you were getting on with the training, you have all cleared the plates. Neil and the Protagonist exchanged a mysterious look before the second one spoke:

“As you know by now from your training, I have knowledge about things that haven’t happened yet…” he started, almost tentatively.

“You mean that you came from the future? To set up Tenet?” you blurted out and got met with slightly worried looks “Because that’s what everyone says among the recruits” you explained, shrugging.

When you first heard this rumour passed around by the younger agents you did not pay it much attention. But after seeing more of what Tenet was capable of you were not so sure anymore. Looking at Neil and TP right now, you knew that all the stories were true.

“That’s probably a more straightforward way of putting it” the Protagonist joked “I’ve founded Tenet to prevent world ending catastrophes involving the technology of inversion. That’s the part you already know. There’s another reason why the organisation has been founded though”

You stared as he purposefully made a dramatic pause. Glancing at Neil, you noticed that he was studying you with a rather serious expression. You got the feeling that what was about to be said, was not common knowledge.

“In the future there will be an attempt an attempt to reverse the entropy of the whole world” your eyes widened in shock.

Even with your poor grasp of physics it sounded like a catastrophe.

“For this purpose something called The Algorithm will be created and constructed. It’s a formula in a physical form, broken into nine parts so that it is not so easily found and assembled. But now the different parts of it are beginning to resurface in this timeline. Our job is to stop it from being used in the recent future” the Protagonist explained, as though he was repeating a manual for the hob.

You felt the panic rise again. All this information was too much to take in.

“What does it have to do with me?” you asked, unable to wait much longer.

The serious look in Neil’s eyes did not help you either.

“TP thinks you have a part to play in stopping the Algorithm from being used” he explained while looking at you almost apologetically “So he’s sending us on a mission to investigate some intel on one of the parts being a subject of trade in New York”

“But why me?” you frowned.

It didn’t make any sense.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that” the Protagonist apologised with a sad smile “It wouldn’t do you any good to know this early”

You looked at Neil, hoping to find some answers. But he seemed as lost as you were. You had a feeling that only TP knew the full story and he decided who was to be let in on it.

“You will leave on the mission in two days. Until then you can prepare here, and I’ll brief you both tomorrow” he added, and you could only nod “Finally, the last thing you need to know is that everything that was said today is between us three. Is that alright?”

“Of course” you got up, desperately wanting to get some rest “Neil is the only person I talk to anyway” you shrugged and received a knowing glance from TP again.

What even…

“Sorry, I’m very tired. Is it alright if we come back to it tomorrow?” you asked, suppressing a yawn.

“Yeah sure, you need a rest” TP patted your arm reassuringly “No need to be worried though, you’ll have Neil with you. And I know he’ll take care of you” there was something way too certain in his voice.

You looked at Neil, but he pretended to study a dossier, with tension radiating from his form. You wanted answers but could not even voice the questions.

*** After the meeting finished, you both left TP’s quarters in silence. You were scared and dreamt of nothing but locking yourself away in your room. But Neil had other ideas. As soon as he stepped out into the corridor, he took your hand in his and started leading you with purpose in his stride. You didn’t even protest. At this point you resorted to following him without questions.

He lead you to the staircase and then upstairs, to what was indicated as an evacuation route. You tried to search his face for any clues, but it was pointless. Finally he stopped in front of heavy metal doors at the top of the stairwell and opened it for you. You stepped into an expansive terrace overlooking the city and the neighbouring areas, with the stairs to the helicopter pad. The night has fallen on Boston and the view was illuminated with thousands of lights. You took in the sight with parted lips, not expecting to see anything like that on this dramatic night. Neil was leaning on the railing, looking at you with a small smile:

“Do you show this place to all the girls?” you asked him, while slowly approaching the balustrade.

“What girls?” he looked genuinely confused and you laughed at the face he made.

“Oh you know, like Anna…” you gestured vaguely at the lines of women that were waiting on his every word.

“What? No!” he finally caught on what you were asking and scrunched his face in offence “Anna is cute but she’s not… no”

What was he trying to say? But he turned towards the view and clenched his jaw. You stared at him for a while before resigning to look at the cityscape as well. Every now and then you would steal a glance at Neil, only to see him staring into the darkness. This was not what you were used to from him. When the tense silence dragged on for too long, you decided to act.

“Neil is everything alright?” you stepped closer to him “You’re awfully quiet” you noticed.

He turned his head to look at you with a small smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You miss my voice already?”

“Stop it” impulsively you reached out and touched his hand that was clutching the railing.

He looked up at you with a slight surprise. Now that you made the move, you felt less scared. You gently rubbed a thumb over his hand and tried again:

“What’s wrong? Because if it’s my poor jokes about Anna and stuff, then sorry-”

“No” he cut you off with a smile “It’s not you. It’s just that all this talk about The Algorithm and world ending… it’s a lot sometimes” you nodded “And today when TP told me that you’ve got a role to play in it too…” he inhaled sharply “I…”

You looked at him intrigued and worried at the same time. You were not used to Neil speaking in broken sentences.

“What?” you prodded, letting your hand trace an invisible line up his forearm.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression before relaxing his hold on the balustrade. You were surprised to see that there were goosebumps on his arm where you have touched it.

“I hoped that you won’t have to be involved in this” he sighed “Maybe it’s foolish for someone who’s worked at Tenet for four years, but I wanted you to be safe from all this Algorithm related bullshit” he met your gaze with defeat.

You stared back at him, confused.

“Why?” your voice came out quiet and hoarse.

He shrugged helplessly, with an expression of sadness in his eyes. That alone made you forego any sense of awkwardness or fear. You closed the gap between you, embracing him tightly. After a second of hesitation you felt him return the embrace. He exhaled shakily and you allowed yourself to rest your head in the crook of his neck. Your heart was hammering in your chest, finally catching up with what was happening. Inhaling his scent, you forced yourself to calm down. You felt his hand caress the nape of you neck, making all the thoughts disappear from your head. You were frozen in place for what felt like hours before Neil relaxed his grip and took a step back. You met his gaze with an unspoken question and he just nodded, composing himself. Then he studied your face for a beat, before finally breaking the silence:

“I’m sorry”

You knew he meant everything by that: the news, the plan, his outburst.

“It’s okay” you smiled at him reassuringly and placed you hand on his shoulder “Happens to the best of us” you smoothed his wrinkled shirt collar.

He stared at you with astonishment that made your face heat up. Then he smiled and nodded his head in the direction of the exit from the terrace:

“Want to call it a night?” he asked with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Sure” you smiled back and followed him back to the stairwell.

Somehow this night felt important. And not just because of what you learned.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion #gifs not mine

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Event! 轻云寻隐录: Sariel’s BDAY 2021 Event! Qingyun’s Hidden Records (Chapter 2)

“You're a stupid bird, so you can't be considered the same as the other humans.”

*Light and Night Master-list | Sariel’s Personal Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Image used with permission from 蓝咕咕 ☆ *Join my Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Event story tag will be #For Light and Memories

Time passed in a flash, accompanied by the leisurely tune that resonated through the cabin. The train stopped at a station named “Shaqing Town”.

Exiting the station, we were greeted by the bustling sounds of people all around. It was almost as if we’d just returned to the Human World.

This blue-tiled white-walled old town was surrounded all around by waters and mountains alike. The cobblestone steps led straight into the heart of the ancient forest while the rows upon rows of small shops set up alongside the road made the place look very lively.

MC: This is Qingyun Swamp? It looks no different from an old town.

Sariel: It is an ordinary town.

Sariel looked at the old town before him, a faint flicker of nostalgia wavering within the depths of his eyes.

Sariel: Just one that happens to be in the middle of Qingyun Swamp and the Human World.

Sariel: In the World of Spirits, some choose to befriend humans; but at the same time, there are also countless of them who chose not to, as well as some who outright hate humans.

Sariel: The people of the Spirit Tribe who live here in Shaqing are those who are close and co-exist with humans. And further in would be Lin Isle, where everyone is part of the Spirit Tribe.

MC: Which means… you're in the "human-friendly" faction, right?

Sariel shot me a look but didn’t say anything about my assumption.

MC: You don’t exactly have the best temperament, often overwhelmingly harsh and give me a cold shoulder or two every once in a while, but…

I ticked the points off my fingers one-by-one as I counted, and Sariel’s face grew increasingly darker as I went on.

MC: But you’ve always helped me work on my designs and are ever the good teacher.

MC: I don’t think I’d have such wholesome progression in my life if I hadn’t met you.

MC: So, I don’t think you’d be going so far as to help me if you truly hated humans.

Sariel had unwittingly curled his lips into a faint arc, chuckling lightly.

Sariel: Only because you're a stupid bird.

Sariel: So you can't be considered the same as the other humans.

MC: ……

My glum look seemingly perked him right up; so much that there was even amusement dancing in his orbs.

Sariel: Come on. We're still far from our destination.

Walking through the bustling crowd of tourists, I was completely unable to tell spirits from humans just based on outlooks alone.

I then recalled Sariel’s small snow-white fox ears, unable to stop myself from trying to imagine just what the rest of the spirits could look like.

MC: If only the rest of the Spirit Tribe could show their ears and tail too…

I gave a light sigh, but that was still enough to catch Sariel's attention, nevertheless.

Sariel: Not possible.

MC: Why?

Sariel: ...There's no "why" about this.

Sariel seemed reluctant to elaborate more on the matter, so I dropped the topic with a smidge of regret.

MC: Oh… I guess it’s not worth hoping for anything then… If only you could show me those fox ears of yours again...

I was speaking nothing but nonsense as my gaze travelled to a shop selling sugar painting by the street. The owner skillfully manoeuvred a spoon, deftly creating an image of a fox in a few strokes.

Sariel: Never knew you were a fan of pillars.

Suddenly, a big hand came before my forehead, making me stumble a couple of steps backwards.

I turned my attention back to the front, only to see a stone pillar standing less than 20cm away from me.

Sariel: Eyes front when you walk.

MC: I do! Normally! And I have you here now.

Sariel: Hmm?

MC: You'll pull me back whenever it's dangerous, right?

Sariel: ……

Sariel: I really should have let you run face-first into it. Suffer a little, leave a lasting impression.

MC: Alright, I get it.

MC: I just saw something really cool earlier… Right! Wait for me!

I’d already made quick work of the distance, darting to the sugar painting shop without waiting for his reply.

MC: ……

Owner: Hello, young miss. I'll draw another one right up for ya.

MC: Sure!

MC: Oh! Could you make the fox’s ears a little bigger? And make its fur look flowier! The majestic and grand kind!

Owner: Well… That’s a little hard for me to do, miss. Why don’t you do it yourself and I’ll just charge you for the maltose?

He waved for me to go stand beside him, scooping a spoonful of the ambrosial syrup and motioning for me to take it.

I was a little nervous but eager to try my hand at it. I mimicked the way he’d held the spoon earlier, carefully crafting the outline of the fox I had in mind.

MC: First, the body… then the tail, big and fluffy…

MC: How do I draw fur!? Yikes! Too much maltose!

I was faced with a pool of syrup that quickly hardened and took shape, I found myself at a loss at the odd misshapen blob it had become, inwardly lamenting,

Instantly, I felt my spoon-wielding hand gently encased by warmth. Puffs of warm breaths crawled up my neck from behind, and I could even feel light wisps of hair brushing against my ears in a ticklish manner.

I turned around to see Sariel’s side profile.

He was so close; so very close that I could almost make out the sound of his heartbeat.

Ba-thump, ba-thump.

Yet at the same time, it too sounded like my own. It threw my mind into disarray and my once steady breathing into nothing short of a mess.

Sariel: Why's your hand shaking?

MC: Err, what did you come over…?

Sariel: You are my student. I'm here to supervise you so that you don't embarrass me.

Sariel: Focus.

It was as if he could work magic, for the rebellious spoon became swift and elegant under his guiding hand as he fixed up my prior mess.

Soon, an impressive fox formed before my eyes.

MC: You really salvaged it!

I couldn't hide my surprise, turning around and showing it to him. The amber-coloured fox appeared translucent under the sun's rays, breathing life into the work of art.

MC: Look, this should be the King of Foxes, don't you think?

Sariel: So? Only kids would like something like this.

MC: You drew it too!

MC: Say, don't you think this fox looks a little like…

Sariel: No. Hurry up.

Seeing Sariel rear back up, ready to leave, I quickly caught hold of his sleeve.

MC: Are you not going to have a taste of it, at least? I'll finish it myself then.

However, he instantly changed his mind, snatching up the piece of sugary art just as quickly.

Sariel: Wishful thinking. I drew half of it.

MC: But you don't even eat things like this!

Sariel: Says who?

To prove his point, he bit off one of the ears, chewed twice, and took his own sweet time licking off the crumbs of sugar stuck to the sides of his mouth with an absolutely straight face.

Not wanting to lose, I dashed up to chomp off the other ear, crunching it hard as I chewed.

And this was how we ended up looking at each other while chewing. The image of us sharing the same sugary treat suddenly appeared before my eyes, making me acutely aware of the missing portions of the sugary artwork.

There were still remnants of unmelted maltose at the back of my throat; all so very sweet.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Memories⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1) | Next Part: (Chapter 3)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #齐司礼 #Sariel #For Light and Memories #轻云寻隐录 #Qingyuns Hidden Records #Sariel BDAY 2021

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kumeko · 3 years

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A/N: For the Dandelion zine! I wanted to explore my favourite trio (though, Yennefer would not like being included like that XD) post series.

Summary: Jaskier’s prized possession was a crate of wine Geralt bought him as an apology. Twelve bottles that he only brought out for the most important of occasions: dates with Geralt, rants with Yennefer, picnics at Ciri’s castle, and more. A look at Jaskier over the years.

…

i. First bottle

There were very few things that Jaskier wouldn’t forgive. Oh, he could and would hold a grudge; he had mastered the art of pettiness by the time he’d turned ten. But that was something entirely different than carrying hate, to nurse it and feed it until it became an entity on its own. Jaskier preferred forgiveness; it was better to drink with old foes than avoid them. Besides, it never hurt to keep things friendly when he could.

He had enough enemies from past dalliances as it was.

However, forgiveness required an actual apology, which was why he wasn’t exactly excited when he found Geralt for the first time in months. It didn’t hurt that he was also sitting on his bed in the inn, expression carefully blank, as though they’d gone on another adventure together and hadn’t fought at all. It figured the Witcher would just wander in and expect everything to be fine.

“How’d you get in here?” Jaskier asked, quietly closing the door behind him. Innkeepers and maids liked to talk and this was complicated enough without bringing in half the neighbourhood to hear.

“Your door was unlocked,” Geralt answered simply, his voice low and rough as though he hadn’t spoken for days. Knowing him, that had to be the case. Despite his relaxed posture, his golden eyes remained fixed on Jaskier as though waiting for something. At his foot was a small, wooden crate and Jaskier didn’t remember seeing that before.

“You know that’s not an answer, right?” Knowing it’d take an army to pull Geralt off his bed, Jaskier settled for grumpily leaning against the wall and crossing his arms. He had forgotten how tiring it was to pry information from him.

Geralt studied him for a minute before admitting, “The cook let me in.”

Which was the answer, but that wasn’t the question Jaskier really wanted to ask. Why? After that day on the mountain, after months of utter silence, why now? With anyone else, he would have guessed loneliness or regret, but Geralt was ‘above’ that. Or rather, Geralt squashed his emotions into a pit of denial so deep it would take years to dig it out. Jaskier ran a hand through his hair. “Bribery. Of course. Next time, I’ll bribe them to keep you out.” Breathing in through his nose, he counted to ten before asking, “What are you doing here?”

This time, Geralt took even longer to respond. As a self-proclaimed ‘man with no feelings’, he didn’t really have any nervous ticks that gave away his thoughts, nothing that Jaskier could focus on and say, He’s anxious because he’s scratching his nose. “I came to meet you.”

“Again, that’s not an answer!” Jaskier growled, resisting the urge to toss his lute at him. All of this was sobering him up. “And here I was, happily inebriated,” he complained.

“I can fix that,” Geralt offered, nudging the box forward. A heavy thing, it slowly slid across the wooden floor. If it scratched the planks, he’d force Geralt to pay for damages.

“No thanks.” Jaskier wrinkled his nose, already imagining its contents. Though, with Geralt, it was probably ten times worse than what he was thinking. “What’d you put in there? A monster’s head?”

Geralt gave him a blank look, as though he were an idiot. Jaskier didn’t know why he felt a swell of fondness at seeing it again, he hated that look. “Why would I do that?”

It was a fair point. Not that he’d admit it. Jaskier looked away scornfully and scoffed, “I don’t know. Why do you do anything you do?”

There was something extremely annoyed in Geralt’s expression and privately, Jaskier was thrilled. A little frightened, but thrilled. It was getting to him. “It’s a case of wine,” he stated flatly.

“Wine?” That caught his attention. Jaskier eyed the box before resisting the urge to take one out. Knowing Geralt, the flavour would be terrible, but still. It was free wine. One should never look a gift horse in the mouth, especially one that would still get you drunk.

“Yes, for you.” He motioned for Jaskier to take the box. “Just take it.”

These were more words than Geralt used in a week. Jaskier withdrew his hand, resting it at his side. Even though he knew the answer, he asked, “And why are you giving this to me? Didn’t think you were one for presents.”

“It’s…” Geralt shifted uncomfortably, the bed creaking in response. With his hulking frame, he looked out of place in the small room, his shoulders hunching slightly so he’d take up less room. “It’s…for that time.”

“For that time?” Jaskier prodded, knowing immediately what he meant. At his core, Geralt was an awkward man. For all of his roughness and combative prowess, he was clumsy in the ways of the heart. Luckily, that’s what Jaskier excelled at. And he wasn’t going to let his friend stumble through life, unable to actually say what he meant. More importantly, he wasn’t going to let this go without a proper apology.

“On the mountain. When we…when I…” Geralt rubbed his neck, looking more and more embarrassed with each passing second.

“Ah, yes, the mountain where you declared we weren’t friends.” Faking a frown, Jaskier tapped his chin. “What was it you said, again? Something about—”

“Don’t be annoying,” Geralt grumbled. If Witchers’ could flush, he would be redder than a tomato by now.

That stopped Jaskier in his tracks. Glaring, he snapped, “Annoying? You came here to beg for my forgiveness—”

“I’m not begging.”

“—and you think you can talk like that?” Jaskier rested a hand on his hip, ignoring Geralt’s quick aside.

“You have a point.” Geralt paused, clenching his fist. He looked away. Taking a deep breath, he slowly unfurled his hand. “I was wrong then.”

“For?” Jaskier pressed, unable to stop himself.

Geralt glared at him and spit out, “Everything.”

Well, that wasn’t quite what he was looking for, but he’d take it all the same. Jaskier hummed happily as he reached for the casket. To be perfectly honest, he had forgiven Geralt the moment he’d laid eyes on him, but no one needed to know that. He had his self respect and dignity to protect, after all. Flipping open the lid, he pulled out a dark green bottle and held up to the light. “A red wine, huh? Perfect for a catching-up drinking session. I need some new songs.”

Geralt groaned.

-x-

ii. second bottle

There were many places Jaskier expected to bump into Yennefer—in a ballroom, at a court, in front of Geralt’s corpse. Ironically, she would probably be the reason his stupid friend got killed and not any of the monsters he hunted. The one place that had never crossed his mind was the broom closet of a minor noble, while he was on the run from said noble’s guards.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He smiled charmingly, or at least as charmingly as he could while still panting from exertion. Behind him, there were shouts and angry footsteps as the guards looked for him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked flatly, as though she wasn’t the one hiding in the closet. Somehow, she always appeared composed and he hated her for it. Yennefer glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “No, let me guess, another one of your affairs?”

“What gave it away?” As the sounds grew louder, he pushed her to the side and squeezed his way in. “Ugh, this is so tight.”

“What are you doing?” she hissed, stubbornly pushing back against him. “Find your own hiding spot.”

So she was hiding too. He tucked that info away for later, for when he wasn’t in life-threatening danger. Shoving, he wormed into the gap next to her. “There’s no time!”

“Oh for god’s sake,” she snapped, letting off a string of curses before grabbing his hand.

“Awfully forward of—” Before Jaskier could finish his sentence, the world turned topsy-turvy and suddenly they weren’t in the closet anymore. No, they were in his room in the inn and the world was spinning around him. Falling on all fours, he heaved as he tried to regain his bearings. “What…was…that…?”

“Teleportation.” He couldn’t see her face, but he knew she was rolling her eyes. Her heels clicked on the wooden floor as she slowly examined the room.

“Magic,” Jaskier groaned. He had always thought teleportation was useful before this—if he could just escape all of his trysts so easily. He had been utterly wrong. It was better to face the wrath of every guard than it was to go through that again. “Oh god, does it always feel like this?”

“Only if you’re not used to it,” she replied tartly, peeking out his window. Clearly she didn’t like what she saw, as she sniffed and added, “Quaint place.”

Jaskier wondered just how many times she had vomited before she’d gotten used to this feeling. It was a strange, humanizing thought, and he pushed it to the back of his head. “I’m not as rich as you.”

“No, clearly not.” The bed creaked as she sat on it. He could just see her hand pressing against the bedsheet. She clicked her tongue. “Definitely not.”

There was nothing like spite to force a man to compose himself. Jaskier forced down the bile in his throat and unsteadily rose to his feet. “Then go back to that noble, huh? Oh wait, you can’t.”

Yennefer looked at him sharply. Honestly, what did Geralt see in her? She looked like one of those governesses, never smiling, never laughing. Then again, neither did Geralt most of the time and he was still with him. “Don’t talk about matters you know nothing about.”

Jaskier waited a minute for her to elaborate. When she didn’t add anything else, he rubbed his forehead, frustrated. Of course she wouldn’t explain. Another thing she shared with Geralt. He wasn’t sure why he found one endearingly annoying and the other just plain irritating. “If you don’t say anything, obviously I’m going to know nothing about it.”

Her glare grew deeper. “I could turn you into a frog.”

“You wouldn’t,” he sneered, challenging her. At least, that was the plan, but his voice cracked half-way and he wobbled slightly as he tried to find a stable position. There was no bite to his words, he could tell it by the way she smirked. Stumbling onto the lone chair in the room, he sat on it backwards, leaning his chest against the chair back for support. At least he didn’t have to look as wobbly as he felt. Just how long was this motion sickness supposed to last, anyways?

“Hmm, don’t think I have to.” Every word from her felt like a taunt. “So what was it this time? Another fling?”

Averting his eyes, Jaskier didn’t bother to reply. Sure, he was predictable. Geralt just had to look at him to guess what he was up to, but he wasn’t sure how to feel about Yennefer of all people figuring him out. They’d barely even talked. They weren’t even allies, just people who sometimes worked together because Geralt forced them too. Maybe he really should reconsider his affairs business if even strangers knew about it.

Jaskier frowned. Or maybe Geralt had blabbed during pillow-talk. Sure, he wasn’t much of a talker, but she was a witch, after all. Maybe she’d gotten it out of him. “Did Geralt tell you?”

Immediately, Yennefer scowled. “No,” she hissed between clenched teeth, looking like a lioness ready to pounce. It reminded Jaskier of the Queen of Calanthe, and he swallowed. “Of course not.”

“Oh.” Jaskier wasn’t sure what to make of that. If Geralt had apologized to him, he must have gone to Yennefer too. He rubbed his neck. “So, uh, he didn’t try to give you an I’m sorry gift?’

Yennefer snorted, a completely un-ladylike and inelegant move. “I wouldn’t let him.”

“Oh.” Well, that explained it. Honestly, he would never understand their relationship, and he really didn’t want to. “He gave me wine.” Jaskier gestured at a box near the foot of the bed. “It’s surprisingly good, considering he picked it.”

“He must have had help.” Yennefer rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t understand himself, let alone others.”

Look who’s talking, he almost said, but he’d tested his luck once today. There was no point in trying it a second time. Jaskier had experienced enough curses to last a lifetime. “Probably. Wish I could have seen that conversation. ‘I need an apology gift for abandoning my friend on a mountain’.”

Yennefer replied scornfully, “At least he left you. He tied me to him, the bastard.”

This was the first he’d heard of it. Jaskier bit his lip. Geralt was his friend. Yennefer was a horrid woman. Geralt was his friend. This sounded really interesting. Geralt was his friend. “I don’t—”

At the same time, Yennefer looked out his window and if looks could kill, Geralt would be dead right now. “And that pig of a nobleman might have had a cure for it.”

“How’d you end up in the closet?” Jaskier asked, before he could stop himself. Internally, he sighed. Well, if he was going to do this anyways, he might as well go all the way. “This seems like a long story, want some wine?”

-x-

iii. third bottle

There were many idyllic ways Jaskier liked to while the hours away. Wooing a noble lady, practicing his songs, lazing about in the afternoon sun. Sometimes, as a treat, he liked to do all three at once. If he were entirely honest, almost anything he did was an utter waste of time and that was precisely why he liked doing them. There was no pressure, no demand, just time spent spoiling himself.

Therefore it was entirely unexpected when Geralt joined him on a grassy hill for cloud watching of all things. Sure, he had returned from yet another monster-hunting/city-saving adventure, so he was due for a little rest and relaxation. Yet he had never accepted that as a reason before. Flat on the ground, Jaskier glanced to his right, at the profile of his stoic lover. Quiet, unsmiling, it looked like Geralt.

“What is it?” Geralt asked, still staring up at the clouds. He hadn’t so much as moved and Jaskier wondered if he just had a second sense for observing things.

Well, it sounded like Geralt too. So it had to be him, as odd as it was. “You’re lying here.” Jaskier blurted, not sure what to say, how to say it aside from stating the obvious.

At this, Geralt turned his head and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“You.” Jaskier gestured at Geralt for emphasis. “Are. Relaxing.” This was the exact opposite of what Geralt did. Maybe he was sick. Or maybe he’d gotten cursed again. In Geralt’s line of work, this wasn’t exactly uncommon. A monster, a witch—Jaskier’s eyes widened as he found the perfect suspect. “Was it Yennefer?” He wouldn’t put it past her to pull some petty revenge for an inane argument

“Yenn—” Geralt cut himself off, rolling his eyes before looking up at the sky again. “She didn’t do anything,” he answered gruffly.

“But you know she would,” Jaskier muttered under his breath, a little put out. That answered his other question—Geralt had apologized and Yennefer had forgiven. Great. At least none of Jaskier’s flings had the tendency to put them into life-threatening situations. Maybe he should amend their open relationship to not include dangerous witches.

“I’m just spending time with you,” Geralt added and Jaskier felt the sigh more than heard it. Their arms bumped slightly, sending a tingle up his spine. “I can stop.”

Before Geralt could get up, Jaskier latched onto his hand. “No, it’s fine.” There was no point in ruining a day out over his suspicions; they had few enough of them as it was. Besides, with another day or two of lazing about, he’d be proven right. Curses always took forever to disappear. When Geralt gave him a dry look, he smiled. “Come on, just a little longer.”

“Fine.” Geralt lay back down, though he didn’t pull away. “A little longer.”

His eyes were soft, Jaskier noted silently. So very soft. He wondered sometimes, how long it took for Yennefer to forgive him, how long it took for them to finally talk. If they still looked at each other overwhelmed and as though they didn’t know what to do with their emotions.

If that look had ever changed to the one Geralt had now, domestic and gentle. There was such an easy thing between them now, where Geralt would scoff at Jaskier’s latest messy affair and Jaskier would bemoan his partner’s inability to be romantic. An easy thing that didn’t really need explanation or words, really. Even now, they just lay there, soaking in the sun, enjoying the breeze. Pure boredom at its best. “I wish we could just always do this.”

“Don’t you always do this?” Geralt asked, not a hint of mockery in his voice.

“I’ll have you know I do actual work.” Jaskier paused, before averting his eyes. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” Geralt agreed, and this time Jaskier knew he was teasing him.

“A lot of the times,” Jaskier corrected. “As fun as it is getting chased out of every kingdom, I’m getting too old for that.”

Geralt rolled over to his side, his brow furrowed. “You’re getting old?”

That was either a compliment, or Geralt was the densest man alive. Probably the latter. Pointing at a strand of grey hair, he nodded. “Not all of us are immortal.”

“I’m not immortal.” Geralt reached and gently touched the hair. “And that’s only one.”

Jaskier snorted. Why was he stuck with immortal beauties for companions? At least Ciri would understand his plight. “One can lead to more, and I want to have something nicer than a room at an inn when that happens.” Having had enough of the topic, he gestured at the picnic at their feet, utterly forgotten. “Let’s finish that bottle. There’s no point in lazing about if we can’t get drunk while at it.”

-x-

iv. fourth bottle

“You’re going into academia?” Mystified, Yennefer glanced at her goblet, at the ruby red wine inside, and then up at Jaskier. “I’m not that drunk.”

Regrettably, they were sitting in one of Ciri’s rose gardens, and not in Jaskier’s room, so he couldn’t just toss her out. Not that it had stopped him from trying before, but the guards refused to believe that Yennefer’s tongue was a lethal weapon and should be treated as such. It didn’t hurt that Ciri was taken with the older woman and he could only blame her terrible taste on Geralt. Like godfather, like goddaughter, and he worried about Ciri’s future partner.

“What’s so funny about that?” Jaskier asked, and immediately he wanted to take his words back. They gave her too many openings.

“Seriously?” Yennefer asked. When he glared at her, she scornfully laughed. “And I thought it was a prestigious academy.”

“Yeah, well, you’re also a teacher somehow, so I guess anything’s possible,” Jaskier snarked back. Luckily for her, she was seated opposite of him on the round table, or he’d have kicked her shins. Actually, maybe he could still—

“Don’t be like that,” Geralt sighed, dropping a hand on his thigh to stop him. He and Ciri sat opposite one another, and not for the first time, Jaskier suspected this seating was on purpose, to prevent some accidental fight.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who invited her.” Jaskier pulled his wine bottle closer. Honestly, if he’d known she’d come, he wouldn’t have used one from his secret stash. “Why is she even here?”

“Oh? I thought we were friends,” Yennefer drawled, thatching her fingers and resting her chin on them. There was something utterly evil in her smile. Magic was the only reason no one else had noticed.

“Friends don’t make fun of each other,” Jaskier retorted before gulping down his wine. He was too sober to deal with her.

“Congratulations!” Ciri piped up, smiling at him over her goblet. “I think you will be a great professor.”

“Thank you.” Jaskier beamed back at her, though he couldn’t resist throwing one more barb. “See? This is how friends treat each other.”

Ciri giggled, amused. “You two are friends, though.”

“Loosely,” Yennefer muttered. “Very loosely.”

“Ciri, are you drunk?” Jaskier asked, worried. Actually, now that he thought about it, should she even be here, drinking with them? It wasn’t like he could tell the queen to stop, but still. Someone had to keep an eye out for her, and her other two babysitters were utterly incompetent with children.

“Not in the least.” Ciri smiled sweetly, before swirling her wine. At his disbelieving look, she added, “I have had a glass a night since I was eight.”

“Eight?” Jaskier’s first taste of wine had been at 18. Noble children really were nothing at all like the commonfolk.

“I know my limits.” Ciri took another delicate sip, her expression too dignified to remind him of any of his hometown’s children. “Now, what are you teaching?”

-x-

iv. fifth bottle

Jaskier woke up to a dry mouth and the lingering taste of vomit. There was an uncomfortable turmoil in his belly, one that promised he wouldn’t leave the toilet for hours, and his head pounded like a drum. Lying on his back, he stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling, his right hand curled around a cool, glass bottle. From the corner of his eye, he could just make out that it was one of Geralt’s apology bottles, and that it was utterly empty. Actually around him were several other vintages of alcohol, and he didn’t have to guess to know where they’d gone.

He was never going to drink that much again. And this time, he meant it.

There was something heavy and warm on his waist. Jaskier looked down to find a hairy, muscular arm, and followed it up to find a sound asleep Geralt. Memories of last night, in bits and flashes, returned, and he resisted the urge to groan. No wonder he was so drunk, it was the only way he would have agreed to this. Only way Yennefer would agree to it too. He didn’t have to crane his neck to know that she was already gone. If it weren’t for Geralt’s arm, he’d be gone too.

It had been a mistake. An utter mistake. No matter what had changed in their relationship over the years, he and Yennefer were never going to be more than friendly enemies. Drunken, sloppy kisses weren’t going to change that. Jaskier breathed out his nose, glancing up at Geralt. His expression was entirely unguarded and content. Well, at least one person had enjoyed it.

When Jaskier received a raven a week later, a letter informing him that this would never be repeated, his only regret was that he hadn’t sent it first.

-x-

vi. sixth bottle

It was hard, being a teacher. Harder than any job Jaskier had done before, and he’d fought monsters with the best of them. Well, to be precise, he had watched people fight monsters, but he had been on the front lines for each encounter and that had to count for something.

Still, none of that had prepared him for standing in front of a classroom, day in and day out, and having dozens of students watch him with bored eyes. There were a few eager beavers in his class, but the vast majority came in expecting a bird course. Or were from his fan club, and Jaskier took no small amount of pride that even as his hair greyed, he still had it.

And all of that was easy compared to grading all of his students at the end of their term. His table was swamped with papers, with tests and projects and things he probably shouldn’t be marking but got foisted on him because another teacher had seniority. There was a reason that Jaskier had made his final exam a pure performance one, he hadn’t wanted to deal with any paperwork nonsense after.

Leaning forward, he delicately plucked a paper off the table, grimacing at the tiny cramped writing that filled both sides. It was even worse than he thought. Immediately, he dropped the sheet and headed to his closet, pulling out a small box of wine he stored safely beneath his many clothes.

If he was going to do this, he might as well be comfortable.

-x-

vii. seventh bottle

“Why do you look so good?” Jaskier bemoaned, kicking his legs as he sat on the edge of the rooftop. A small part of him worried that this was dangerous, to be drunk and on a rooftop with no rails. The rest of him realized that while he hated it, Yennefer did have teleportation magic and the worst he’d suffer was nausea. However begrudgingly it was, she’d save him.

Probably.

“Hard work,” Yennefer replied bluntly, sipping her wine as she stared up at the night sky. Even now, there was something elegant about her profile, about the way her hair flowed in the cool breeze.

It only made Jaskier hate her more. “You and Geralt are stupidly good looking. And immortal.” He gulped his wine, ignoring the taste as he chased a blissful buzz. “You know how old that makes me feel?”

“As old as you are?” Yennefer hazard a guess, her tone completely dry and disinterested.

“Exactly!” Jaskier picked up the bottle, refilling his glass once more. He couldn’t remember just when they’d started sitting here on the rooftop, having monthly bitching sessions as they complained about coworkers or students. It seemed being teachers had done what Ciri, Geralt, life-changing experiences, or even time couldn’t: made them actual friends.

He would also never tell her that. Biting his lip, he shoulder bumped her. “You shouldn’t get both. Either be good looking or immortal, but not both.”

“It’d be useless to be immortal if we couldn’t move,” Yennefer pointed out, rolling her eyes. “I’m not living to a thousand and using crutches.”

They had this argument every year and, as far as Jaskier was concerned, they would continue to have it till he died. “You have magic, what do you care if you can’t walk? Another stupidly unfair thing.”

“Fine, it’s unfair. Life’s unfair,” Yennefer sneered, looking down at him. “What’re you going to do about it?”

“I’ll tell Ciri to ban you,” he immediately shot back, not bothering to think about his decision for a moment.

“Oh?” Yennefer grinned and if he were just a little more sober, he’d recognize it for the trap that it was. “Go ahead.” She held out a scroll of paper and a pen. He should have wondered where she’d gotten it.

He was too drunk to care. “Fine, I will.”

Jaskier spent the next three months too embarrassed to visit Ciri.

-x-

viii. eighth to tenth bottles

If there was one thing Jaskier had learned over the years, it was that there was no point in hoarding things. Time passed, people came and went, and it was better to enjoy the moment than to regretfully look back at it.

So he drank when he wanted to, kissed who he wanted to, and loved like there was no tomorrow.

-x-

ix. eleventh bottle

There was nothing Jaskier loved more than to lie by the riverbank, tucked comfortably into Geralt’s side. His head rested on his love’s chest, his breathing soft and slow as they watched the clouds pass. Lying like this, it was easy to forget how his bones creaked and complained when he walked, how his back ached when he stood, and how Geralt’s touch had turned even gentler with the passage of time.

It was easy to forget that Jaskier was old. Not getting old, not turning old, but old. His hair was entirely silver now, his skin wrinkly and paper thin. Geralt’s muscles were just as firm as ever, his body unchanging.

No, not entirely unchanging. Jaskier sighed contentedly, listening to his lover’s heartbeat. All those years ago, it would have been impossible to imagine Geralt like this. It was harder now, to remember those early days, to remember that gruff Geralt. Harder, but not impossible, and perhaps the good thing about having immortal friends was that they never learned to let go of things. If he forgot, Yennefer was certain to remind him.

“Should we go back?” Geralt asked, his voice low and soft.

“Not yet.” Jaskier closed his eyes, content to just laze the day away here. “The bottle’s still full.”

It had been empty hours ago, but Geralt merely tightened his grip and nodded.

-x-

x. twelfth bottle

Geralt wiped the tombstone, his touch reverent as he cleaned Jaskier’s marker. Somehow, it was never as dirty or overgrown as he’d expected it to be. Maybe Ciri still had a guard come out to clean it every now and then. Crouched before it, Geralt ran his fingers along Jaskier’s name, along the numbers and words he had memorized over the year.

He had known before this, just how deep grief could be. How regrets could linger and fester until they haunted every step. What he hadn’t known was that a life lived happily, filled with memories and joy, could leave him feeling full even after loss. That death didn’t have to hurt, though it ached every now and then.

There was a soft pop behind him and he didn’t have to turn to know just who’d arrived. Leaning forward, he kissed Jaskier’s name before standing up. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“We were friends,” Yennefer replied, her expression soft. She’d been wearing it more often these days. “Somehow.”

“Somehow,” Geralt echoed, chuckling. Jaskier had that effect on everyone, worming his way into their hearts until it was hard to imagine lives otherwise.

“And I have the fitting marker for his anniversary.” Yennefer pulled out a bottle.

Geralt’s eyes widened and he snatched the bottle. The label had faded, worn with time, but even still, he recognized the bottle. They’d had too many of them over the years for him to forget. “There was one left?”

“Exactly one.” Yennefer gracefully knelt by Jaskier’s grave and set out three glasses. “I don’t know what he was saving it for, but maybe it was this.”

“I doubt it, he never looked that far ahead.” Still, he sat down beside her.

Taking back the bottle, she hummed her agreement. “You’re right, he was never one for thinking.” She uncorked the bottle, and carefully filled the three goblets.

“He thought sometimes,” Geralt half-heartedly defended Jaskier, unable to refute it entirely.

“Sometimes,” Yennefer agreed once more, picking up her glass. For once, she wasn’t in the mood to argue. She sniffed the wine and smiled. “Hmm, smells good. I suppose some things do get better with time.”

Geralt chuckled. “You should have told him that.”

“And let his head get any bigger?” Yennefer snorted inelegantly, before holding up her glass. “To Jaskier.”

“To Jaskier,” Geralt repeated, clinking their glasses together.

#geraskier #geralt of rivera #jaskier #yennefer #yenralt #the witcher #fanfic #art

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imagine-the-fanfics · 4 years

Text

Memorized Words

Characters: College AU! Aragorn x Fem!reader

Tags: @entishramblings

Warnings: smut

A/n: this might become a series. I’m unsure, but we’ll see. Might be a series of stand alones in the same setting. I’m not sure because I have wisps of ideas, but I don’t know that I have enough to make a full-blown series. Ya know?

You first met him a month ago.

You were a new freshman, fresh off a gap year with a full ride scholarship in your pocket. Adjusting to the large campus from your small town was daunting. You hadn’t exactly been popular in high school, but you were friends with almost everyone. No one had really loved you, but no one had really hated you, either. Still, making friends was difficult.

Trying to make friends with classmates went about as well as you’d hoped. None of the “friends” you’d made were interested in anything other than sharing notes and homework answers. When you saw the signs for something called “Org Smorg”, described as a smorgasbord of student organizations attempting to recruit new members. What was a better idea than joining clubs to make friends?

You were overwhelmed with the number of organizations there, but so many interested you. One was part of the people in charge of planning campus events, including the concerts. This semester some famous singer you’d heard about but never listened to was coming, as well as your favorite spoken word poet, Blythe Baird. You decided not to get involved with that one since you worried it would take up too much time. A production team club was planning to film a short film, so you gave them your information for when they had the details figured out. Alternate theatre and some other clubs ended up in your schedule.

It was a knight in armor that caught your eye. He was short, spoke with what you thought was a Scottish accent, talking about if the lemonade really was historically accurate since they hadn’t used the exact ingredients needed. Another man, tall and blonde assured him it didn’t really matter, and that it was close enough. He was wearing some sort of elaborately embroidered tunic and trousers, boots nearly to his knees. The third man, a scruffy man shook his head and smiled to himself.

The video that was being played caught your attention. You recognized the blonde man as he posed in what appeared to be holding a fencing helmet in one hand and a sword in the other. He was smiling next to a much older gentleman with a grand outfit, similar to what you saw kings wear in those period movies you liked to watch. You watched as the screen shifted to a fight of a short man, you assumed the man in armor since it looked like the same outfit, fighting with another person. It shifted to a video of something called The Pennsic War, according to the subtitle, with a date from last year added after. Two groups of people met on what you assumed was a battlefield. The screen shifted again—

“Greetings, fair lady,” the dark-haired man said with a slight bow and smile. “Interesting stuff, isn’t it?”

“Hey,” you greeted in return, giving an awkward wave in response. “It’s… Something. What am I looking at?”

The man explained every photograph, the blond man joining as well as the short man, his helmet removed and his red hair and beard exposed.

“That’s me,” the man said proudly, beaming at the screen. “That was a good fight.”

The trio spent the next two hours explaining the group they were representing. The Society of Creative Anachronism, or SCA for short, was essentially a medieval LARPing group.

“It’s like taking the best parts of everything that occurred during the 1600s and before to modern times, while leaving the bad parts – like the plague and misogyny – behind,” the man named Aragorn said with pride. “You said you liked period movies and Dungeons and Dragons, right? I think this group would be a good fit for you.” He gave you a flyer with different dates and meetings listed. “Legolas is going to be teaching fencing—”

“I can’t teach heavy fighting on campus,” Gimli complained. “You’ll have to come to an off-campus meeting to learn that.”

“Only if you’re comfortable; there’s no obligation to do anything,” Aragorn assured, his smile was charming and inviting, and you agreed to go to some meetings on campus to see if it was something you were interested in. “That’s great! Our next meeting is a potluck, but you don’t need to bring anything—Well, maybe a hungry stomach,” he joked. You laughed and he grinned.

The potluck was full of medieval food – sausages, bread, drinks, meat, soups – and some modern food, like Oreos and some crackers and cheese. The next meeting, Legolas started teaching you fencing, and Aragorn told stories, played a lute, and sang old songs. A complete surprise to you, Gimli worked on some illumination, fancy decoration on some scrolls that were for the baron of the area. He didn’t seem the type, but he enjoyed it.

You learned so much about them all during those meetings. Aragorn was a psychology major, minoring in plant biology. He was considering switching them as a major/minor combo, but he wasn’t sure. Legolas was a computer studies major, with linguistics as a secondary major. His minors included various languages. Gimli was an international student from Wales, majoring in history and minoring in art. He complained about people thinking he was Scottish frequently. These people were so surprising and endearing, and they quickly became your closest friends despite the age difference you brought to the table.

They learned about how you left your small town out of desperation to get away from your small town and your overbearing parents. Things had been hard, but you were granted a full ride scholarship that had been saved for the couple of years you had to take off of school. You were able to focus on your studies, which you were thankful for, but that you were still worried for your grades. Aragorn offered to study with you, since your schedules met up so perfectly and you agreed.

~~**~~

The four of you sat around a fire pit in Legolas’ parents’ backyard. Apparently, they were loaded. You couldn’t remember exactly what they did, something about being a politician or ambassador or something. He lived on campus during the week, but went home on the weekends, even though he only lived about 10 minutes from campus.

The house, if you could call it that, was massive. The backyard had a pool house, a full sized pool inside. It was the size of a two story house for a family, and you’d been told it had three bedrooms. There was a tennis and basketball court a short walk away from the fire pit. If there was any doubt about how loaded this family was, it was gone now.

Aragorn was playing his guitar, singing softly as Gimli drank beer. He tried to talk you into drinking, and you respectfully declined. Eventually, Legolas told Gimli to knock it off and Gimli stopped pestering you, though he grumbled.

“Do you play?” Aragorn asked.

“Like sports? Not really. I enjoy tennis and volleyball casually, though,” you replied.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I meant instruments.”

“Oh, not really. My brother tried to teach me guitar, but I never learned. I’ve been trying to learn how to play kalimba, but I’m not good at it.”

“What’s a kalimba?” Gimli asked.

“It’s a thumb piano that sounds like a music box.”

“That sounds lovely,” Legolas said with a smile.

“Maybe next time you can play it for us,” Aragorn suggested. “Do you sing?”

“I’m not good at it,” you admitted, looking at the fire.

“I disagree,” Legolas chimed in. “I heard you before I arrived at the last meeting.”

“I’ll judge it for myself,” Aragorn said, continuing to strum random notes on his guitar. “What do you want to sing? I know a lot of songs, old and new.”

You sighed, resigned to your fate. “Jenny of Oldstone?”

“From Game of Thrones?” Aragorn asked, starting to play it softly. You nodded. “I think I remember how to play it.”

“That sounds right,” Legolas said. Gimli leaned back in his chair.

Gimli frowned as he realized he was out of beer. He opened the cooler and cursed when he saw it was empty, and stood up. “I’ll be right back,” he announced, “don’t start without me.” He made his way back into the house with the cooler.

“How much can that man drink?” You asked, amazed.

“A lot,” Legolas and Aragorn said in unison. Aragorn chuckled and shook his head.

“I guess you have time to warm up, if you want.” Aragorn was still smiling as he looked at you.

“I’m not sure how,” you admitted shyly, looking into the fire.

“I’ll teach you.” and Aragorn did just that. The two

you sang tongue twisters and scales.

By the time Gimli was back, you and Aragorn had finished.

“Didn’t start without me, did ya?” Gimli asked.

“Nope!” You smiled at him. “Aragorn helped me warm up. Gimli hummed in approval and you looked to Aragorn. “Should we start?” You asked.

He nodded and started to play. He stumbled on a note, surprised by the quality of your voice. He quickly recovered, focusing on his attention on the movement of his fingers against the neck of the guitar. You were embarrassed, but you still sang without issue.

Gimli clapped as you finished. “Sing something else!”

“Leave her be,” Aragorn sighed before turning to you. “You sing beautifully. Why don’t you think so?”

“Just been told that a few times too many to think otherwise,” you said with a shrug, looking into the fire.

“Bastards,” Gimli stated simply. “Liars and bastards.”

You smiled, not saying anything.

“If she won’t sing then you should,” Gimli said to Aragorn.

“Alright, let me think.” Aragorn looked up at the stars, to you, and then into the fire. “Got it,” he said before tuning the guitar. “I just started learning this one, though.”

“Oh?” Legolas looked to you as if figuring out a puzzle.

“I memorized all the words for you, but if you only knew how much that’s just not like me.” You shivered, you’d heard Aragorn sing before, but this was different. “I wait up late every night just to hear your voice, but you don’t know that’s nothing like me.”

It reminded you of those nights when you would call him, unable to sleep. He’d tell you a story until you were about to crash. You’d say goodnight, wondering what he had stayed up until 1 am, but dismissed it as him working on his schoolwork.

Legolas watched you, sipping a beer he’d just gotten from Gimli. You felt like you were being judged, and mildly ganged up on. You had a feeling what was happening, but you were terrified of being wrong.

”I want to make sure everything is perfect for you. If you only knew that's not like me to follow through. Maybe even give up all these dead end dreams just to be with you, but you don't know that's nothing like me.” His voice was rough but tender, gentle yet soft. There was some kind of yearning, some kind of heartache, in his voice as he sang.

You wanted him to be singing about you, though you weren’t entirely sure why. It was strange. You’d had crushes in the past, but this felt different. You’d thought it was close friendship, but now you were realizing that wasn’t the case.

“Just when I thought all was lost,” Aragorn’s eyes were glued to you as he sang, “you came and made it all okay.”

You damn near swooned and he returned his gaze to the neck of his guitar. Legolas watched you carefully, sipping his beer. Gimli, oblivious, watched Aragorn, finishing his beer.

The song ended and Legolas looked to Aragorn and then to Gimli before back to Aragorn.

“Mind watching the fire? It looks like it’s about done, and I’m tired. Gimli and I are tired—“

“I’m not tired,” Gimli interrupted.

“Regardless, we’re going inside. I’ll let you have some of my expensive whiskey.”

“The $300 stuff?” Gimli’s eyes were sparkling.

“Sure, but let’s get inside quickly.”

“I’ll help clean up,” you said, standing.

“No, that’s alright. It can wait until morning.” Legolas stood up, and Gimli followed him into the mansion.

The only sounds were the crickets, cackling of the fire, and Aragorn’s guitar. Fifteen minutes of this and the fire was dying. You didn’t realize you were shivering until Aragorn spoke up.

“Are you okay? You’re shivering.”

“I guess I’m a bit cold,” you admitted.

“Come here then,” he suggested, patted next to him on the bench.

His guitar was placed on the stone floor and he shrugged off his leather jacket, draping it around you when you took the spot next to him. He put an arm around you, pulling you closer.

Aragorn smelled of leather and patchouli, trees and dirt and grass, and it was comforting. You scooted as close to him as you could, his warmth so nice.

Silence loomed, but it was as comfortable as it was terrifying. There was so much you wanted to say, but couldn’t muster the courage until the fire was out.

“We should go inside,” Aragorn muttered, petting your head as you leaned against his chest.

“Can I ask you a question first?” You looked up at him but realized you didn’t have a good view, so you leaned away from him.

“Sure, ask away.” Aragorn looked nervous and relaxed at the same time, though you had never seen that combination before.

“That song…” You couldn’t finish it.

“I like you, Y/n. I like you a lot, actually.” He looked into the fire, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “That first night you called because you couldn’t sleep, I was asleep and woke up to you calling me—“

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you muttered, pulling his jacket around you tighter.

“No, it’s alright,” he assured. “I started staying awake later in case you called again. A few days of that and that song came on the radio and I realized that I had feelings for you, so I started to learn it.” He grabbed the poker and adjusted the embers, helping them go out. “And then I realized I’ve never learned a song for anyone except my ex, and now you.”

You didn’t know what to say, and he took your silence as an invitation to continue.

“I saw you at Org Smorg and wanted to you win you over and bring you into the SCA so I could keep seeing you. I was so excited when you showed up at the first meeting. When you said you were worried about your grades, I saw an opportunity and offered to form a study group. I’ve never studied with someone else before, but it was a chance to see you more.”

More silence.

“I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have told you this—“

You cut him off with a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Don’t apologize. I’ve got a dumb schoolgirl crush on you, too. Have for a while, just didn’t realize it until tonight.”

Aragorn just stared at you in shock, so you kissed him again, one hand snaking around his neck, the other still holding his jacket over your shoulders. He kissed you back, and it deepened, getting more needy and intense. There was an urgency in it that caught you off guard, and you were surprised when you realized you had initiated that step.

One hand wrapped around your back, the other played with the bottom hem of your tank top before rubbing down your body and resting on your exposed thigh. You shivered at the gentle touch.

“Still cold?” Aragorn murmured against your lips.

“Yeah. Mind if we go inside?” You asked.

“Sure.” You could tell Aragorn was disappointed, but the fact he wasn’t going to pressure you into anything tonight made your heart palpitate.

He stood up, offering a hand to help you up. You graciously accepted it, making your way into the mansion. Neither of you had let go of the others hand, so you held hands until you got to the door. He opened the door for you, and then followed you inside.

You kissed him again, one hand on his neck and the other on his chest. His jacket fell to the floor, but he didn’t seem to care. One hand held the back of your head, the other resting on your waist.

“Can you walk me to my room?” You asked, breathless from the kiss. “I don’t remember where it is.”

Aragorn blinked for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, sure. This place is huge and it’s easy to get lost.” His brow furrowed, and he looked confused.

Every so often, your lips would meet his. Both of you were guilty of initiating; both of you were guilty of wanting more. You had no idea where he was leading you. Simply put, the feeling of his lips against yours, the warmth of his body, his hands on your waist, the smell of him coaxing you into a feeling you hadn’t felt in so long, made it impossible to make a map of this place in your mind. The longing for more was unrelenting, making your heart race in your chest.

At some point, you found yourself against a wall, his knee between your legs and his lips to your neck. He used one hand to brace against the wall while the other ran from your waist to your hip to your thigh, sliding under your skirt as it traveled up your thigh again. Your breath hitched when his fingers grazed the little bit of fabric that rested on your hip.

“Is this alright?” He asked, lust dripping from his words. You looked into his eyes, seeing just how much he was holding back -- the opposite of what you wanted him to do in this moment.

“Yes.” It came out as a gasp. You hadn’t realized you were panting until his lips were on your neck again. As if it had a mind of its own, your head tilted to the side, exposing your neck to him.

His lips found their way to yours once more, the hand that had been caressing your body slowly running up your side, cupping your breast before continuing up your body until it finally came to rest on your neck. Your hips rocked against him, one hand on his lower back trying to pull him closer and the other hand on his shoulder, moving to the back of his neck.

“We should--” He was panting, trying to catch his breath and focus. “We should get you to your room.”

“Join me?” You asked, breathless still.

“I shouldn’t,” Aragorn took your hands in his and took a step back, bringing your hands to his lips. “You need to rest.”

“Please change your mind before we get there.” You looked at him, wanting nothing more than to drop to your knees and satisfy him that way if you could not have him the way you wanted him.

He smiled softly, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I mean it, Aragorn,” you assured, pressing your hips to his again. “I want you, and I know you want me, too.” You moved your hands from his grip and rested them on his chest, pressing your lips to his neck.

Instinctively, he braced against the wall again, his leg between your thighs. Your hips had a mind of their own, and started to rock on his thigh, looking for any ounce of friction that could bring satisfaction.

“Are you a virgin?” He asked.

“What?” You couldn’t seem to focus.

“I don’t want this to be your first time. I want it to be special for you.”

“I’ve known a man before,” you sighed, biting your lip and closing your eyes. “Now I want to know you, too,” you breathed on to his neck, trying not to moan at the feeling of his thigh under you.

“Let’s get you to your room,” Aragorn was breathless, and the sound of it only made you want him more, need him more, “and decide from there.”

His lips crashed against yours once more, for the briefest moment, before he nuzzled into your neck. He took your hand, pulling you from the wall before dropping it. Quickly, he walked you to your room. As if it was ritual now, the two of you would end up against a wall, bodies pressed together, lips trying to devour each other.

By the time you made it to your room, there was no more restraint. The door slammed shut as you were pushed against it. You giggled at the sound, and Aragorn grinned, pressing a finger to his lips, eyes locked on yours.

“Shhh…” His forehead pressed against yours as he chuckled. He lifted you up, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him. You were still giggling as he lowered you onto the bed, hovering over you. “How do you feel about oral?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only given it once.” It felt odd to admit it. No, you weren’t a virgin, but your experience with sex was limited. Your partner had been so vanilla the sex was almost boring, and you were already having more fun with Aragorn than you did with them.

“Only given it once?” Aragorn’s eyes sparkled with mischief, even though his eyes were darker with his lustful need. “Well then.”

The next thing you knew he was pushing your skirt up, bringing your hips to the edge of the bed, maneuvering your knees over his shoulders.

“Tell me if you want me to stop at any time, okay?” He wrapped his arms around the outside of your legs, his hands resting on your thighs.

Your breath hitched as he started to eat you out, stopping after a moment to push your panties to the side with one hand, the other still holding your leg in position. You felt him in places you didn’t know you could feel him in, and it felt divine.

You started to moan and you felt him chuckle against you. He lifted his head away, smiling at you for a moment before returning to what he was doing. You closed your eyes, one hand grabbing the comforter and the other covering your mouth. You’d never made sounds like these before, but you were too in the moment to think about it.

After what felt like not enough time, Aragorn sat back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, grining.

“You like that, don’t you?” He was grinning like a mad man, but all you could do was nod and whine. “You want me to keep going?” he asked. You nodded again, moving your body in an attempt to coax him back to you. “Alright, alright.”

He was between your legs again, holding your panties to the side with one hand while his other slipped a finger inside you. You covered your mouth with both hands, your back arching at the new sensation. He chuckled against you, continuing to work, slowly adding fingers, until he could feel you approaching your orgasm. He picked up the pace, eager to make you cum hard, and cum hard you did. No matter how hard you’d tried to stay quiet, the moan you let loose was surely heard around the mansion.

His eyes closed, his fingers slowed, letting you ride out the waves they’d caused. His tongue continued for the same reason. He listened to your moans and pants like they were his new favorite song. Once it was all over, he carefully set your legs down from his shoulders and wiped his mouth off again.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, kissing your knee.

“I--” It took a few moments for you to be able to think enough to speak. “Yes,” you said once you were finally able.

“I take it you enjoyed it, then?”

You looked at him, with his big, dumb, goofy grin that you’d seen so many times and looked back at the ceiling. “I did, but I--” You sighed, running your hands over your face to rub it. “I don’t want to stop there.”

“Why do we have to stop?” Aragorn asked, frowning.

“We don’t have condoms, and I’m not going to be able to blow you half as well as you ate me.”

“Well, you don’t have to do that on me, ever, unless you want to. Regardless of how ‘good’ you think you are, it doesn’t matter. All I care about is you being satisfied. If you’re not into something, you’re not into something.” You watched him as he talked. “As for condoms… There are some in the bedside table drawer.” You blinked, about to get upset when he continued. “They’re in all the rooms. Legolas host parties here sometimes while his parents are away. Things sometimes get.. Well. You know how it is at parties.”

You shook your head. You’d never been to the kind of party he was talking about.

“You don’t?” Aragorn seemed surprised. “I’ll have to take you to the next one, if you want to go, I mean. Like I said, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“No,” you said with a smile. “I’d like to do that. You know what else I’d like?”

“Hmm?” Aragorn hummed, kissing your thigh.

“For you to fuck me until I’m screaming your name.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Aragorn made quick work of getting you undressed, spending more time on pleasuring you than your last partner had. It made you feel cherished and adored and it made you embarrassed you weren’t doing the same for him. Aragorn was a giver, though, focused more on his partner’s pleasure than his own.

He trailed kisses up your belly, lifting your shirt as he went. By the time he reached your chest he was carefully pulling your shirt off. He kissed your chest, massaging your breasts before removing your bra and kissing those, too.

His mouth moved to your nipple and he suckled, kneading your other in his hand. His tongue flicked your nipple, and his other hand went from your breast down between your legs, sliding inside you once again. His pace was gentle, deliberate, until he curled his fingers and he moved faster. Increasing his pace until you were moaning. He moved to your other breast, curious if he could make you reach your orgasm with his mouth and hands once more.

Your hips started to move on their own, trying to quicken his pace, feel him deeper inside you. He obliged to the best of his abilities, only slowing down once he heard you moan and felt you pulsate around his fingers.

Aragorn pulled away from your breasts, watching you ride the waves of the pleasure he’d brought you. Once you were finished, he started to kiss your neck. Careful not to touch you with the fingers that had been inside you and were slick with your wetness. He got off the bed and you watched him, too spent to move at this point.

He grabbed a tissue from the table and wiped his fingers off, dropping the tissue onto the table for now, and grabbing a condom from the drawer and returning to the bed, kissing your neck as he undid his pants, pausing only to fully remove his clothing until he was as naked and exposed as you were.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Aragorn asked, returning to caress your face as he looked into your eyes.

“I do,” you murmured.

He kissed your neck more, pausing only to put the condom on and climb over you. Once again, he peppered kisses to your neck, slowly trailing and climbing up to your lips. The two of you kissed, comfortable and relaxed, but passionate still.

“Are you ready?” He growled against your lips, sending a shiver up your spine.

You nodded.

Aragorn positioned himself at your entrance, eyes locked on yours as he made his way inside. You gasped, an airy moan escaping you. A shiver crawled up his spine this time, and he gave you time to adjust.

You rested one hand on his back, the other on his shoulder. You dug your nails into his skin as he started to rock his hips, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder and neck — biting and suckling on the skin available.

The thrusts started slow, quickly picking up pace as you continued to adjust. He pulled away from your neck to look into your eyes. He was bracing himself with his hands on either side of you, but he shifted his weight to one so he could caress and hold your face, smiling at you as he continued to fuck you. You put a hand over his, struggling to stay quiet.

“You don’t have to stay quiet,” Aragorn assured softly. “I don’t care who hears, I want you to moan for me. I want you to—” He had to pause to groan himself. “You feel so good, Y/n.” Once he was refocused he continued what he was saying, “I want you to call my name. Let the whole world know who’s giving you pleasure tonight.”

Your hips were desperately trying to meet his, trying to force him deeper. He paused to pull out, grabbing your hips and dragging you to the edge of the bed again. He put your legs over his shoulders, aligned himself, and went back to work. You had tears in your eyes. It felt so good that you were already feeling a familiar coil in your belly.

“Aragorn,” you moaned, eyes closed. “You feel so good.”

“So do you,” he was panting, watching you as your face was smothered in pleasure. You couldn’t see it, but he was grinning, proud of himself for making you into this. “So perfect.”

“Aragorn, don’t stop,” you pleaded, hands gripping the sheets. “Go faster,” you whined, your hips bucking.

Aragorn obliged, he reached down, playing with your clit as he pounded into you. After a moment he’s topped and pulled out, and you looked at him in frustration.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commanded, eyes dark.

You did as you were told, and he entered you again. His hands took your hips, and slammed yourself against him. He thrust and pulled you to him, groaning.

You were all but screaming his name as he pounded into you, hitting deeper than you thought he could. After what felt like not long enough, the coil in your belly snapped and your vision tunneled. You moaned his name, collapsing and your head rested on the bedding, riding the waves of pleasure that were hitting you.

You pulsating around him was enough to push him over the edge and he groaned your name, thrusting a couple more times before he bent over you, taking a moment to catch his breath. He pulled out, gently adjusting you so you weren’t on your knees anymore.

Aragorn was panting, watching you as you stared back at him, completely spent from your orgasms. He grinned, running a hand from his forehead and through his hair, pushing it back. After a moment he rolled onto his side, gently caressing your body. Your face, your side, your arms, your back — his caresses reached everywhere sighing reach.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asked gently, his caresses back to your face.

“Only the good kind of hurt,” you admitted with a soft smile.

“I guess I shouldn’t apologize, should I?”

“No, you shouldn’t.” You closed your eyes, sighing. “I’m so tired.”

“I know, but you should at least use the restroom. I’ll get your pajamas from your bag for you, alright?” He patted your butt and sat up, chuckling as your eyes followed him but your body didn’t move. “Come on, I know you’re tired, but I don’t want you to get an infection.”

You sighed, realizing he was right, and you rolled onto your back. He leaned over, kissing your stomach. It was comforting and tender, and you realized you never wanted to be with anyone else, sexually or romantically. You wanted to be with Aragorn, and you wanted to stay with him.

He helped you up, making sure you eased yourself into standing and walking. He helped you to the bathroom before returning to the room. Some time later, he returned, holding your clothing in his hands. You felt like you needed a shower, and debated on taking a shower. Ultimately, you decided you wouldn’t, so you took your clothes from him and dressed in the bathroom. Stepping out and gently kissing him before making your way to the bedroom.

You were a bit bowlegged, but you had no complaints about that. It was so delightfully worth it, and a reminder of the pure bliss Aragorn had given you moments before. You collapsed on your bed, not moving.

You knew instinctively that the hands that were rubbing your back belonged to Aragorn, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling.

“You’re exhausted,” Aragorn observed quietly, moving some of your hair out of your face. “Let’s get you tucked into bed.” His voice was so soft and tender it made you want to cry.

He was being so gentle, and this was something you’d never experienced before. He pulled back the sheets as best he could before picking you up and gently putting you down so your head rested on the pillow. He kissed your forehead before pulling the rest of the sheets and blankets down and then pulling them over you.

He kissed your forehead again, muttered a “good night,” and started to move from the bed when you grabbed his arm. Aragorn looked back at you, surprised.

“Stay with me?” You asked softly, moments from sleep. “Please? Sleep next to me.”

Aragorn looked into your eyes, unsure what to do. After a moment he smiled gently.

“Sure, I’ll stay with you tonight.”

#Aragorn #Lord of the Rings #aragorn x reader

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dotuindex · 3 years

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Merla HCs for the soul

General Culture HCs ⭐ Her home planet is called Orulla ⭐ Ever seen that part where Zarkon says “no one knows where she’s from”? That’s because her and her people are from a place akin to VLD’s quantum abyss in terms of how the place functions. Trying to get in is a death wish so the place has yet to be discovered. ⭐ Her race is all one sex, and their secondary sex characteristics are more inline with that of a human female ⭐ But if you went there you might not notice bc gender expression is all over the place ⭐ Gendered pronouns are a wild concept to her bc “why is the gender of the person in question at all relevant, that’s like having a different pronoun for each hair color” ⭐ They do, however, use different pronouns depending on what they’re talking about. They have pronouns used for people, a word similar to “it” for inanimate objects, and another pronoun used for animals. ⭐ Like in Spanish, their language has formal and informal versions of the word “you” ⭐ The only reason they design their armor to overly highlight their bodies is because they realized it freaks other people out to fight an “all female” army and they get embarrassed as fuck when they get their asses beat by a bunch of ladies ⭐ Way more lax about nudity than a lot of other planets. The idea of modesty is more applied to one’s behavior, like their humility, rather than their clothes. ⭐ The most popular colors/materials for clothing is dark green and purple, red, silver, and gold. ⭐ Most of her people have darker hair, ranging from a black or purple color through magenta and dark pink to red. Eyes are typically the same color as the hair, and skin ranges from gray to a desaturated dark blue color. Most have a gray-blue complexion ⭐ Popular makeup trends are lipstick a similar shade to the skin, but darker or more vibrant, and killer eyeliner. ⭐ Her species is actually incapable of blushing, but after discovering it in other species they found it absolutely adorable and now blush is a popular makeup product. ⭐ Body mods are also very much A Thing in her culture. Piercings, tattoos, scarification, tongue splitting, all sorts of things, and they’re very popular. It’s sort of a right of passage, if an unofficial one. Once someone becomes an adult it’s sort of expected to get something done. ⭐ On that note, getting body mods are also seen as highly inappropriate if the individual who has them isn’t an adult. Something as simple as piercing your ears is jaw dropping to them if you’re a kid. ⭐ On her home planet, people aren’t considered adults until age 20 ⭐ Her people’s life expectancy is around 100-110 ⭐ Her people are also known for doing some funky fun hair stuff. Lots of elaborate braids, curling, and such. Shaving down parts of the head and even the whole head used to be really popular, and is now making a comeback in their mainstream culture. Shaving the entire head is seen as a sign of rebellion or mourning, depending on the context. ⭐ Animal motifs are The Thing in their fashion, particularly birds atm, as they are associated with power and royalty thanks to Merla’s affinity for them. So feathers, things shaped like wings, things with wing patterns on them, etc, are in. ⭐ The average adult of their species is about 6′1.5

Merla HCs ⭐ Age 23 at debut ⭐ 6′0 ⭐ Call her vulture ugly and she will fight you ⭐ Her bird is named Onyx ⭐ She raised that bird from the minute he hatched ⭐ Her telepathic abilities only extend to making people want to do things and getting a vague idea of what someone is thinking about at any given moment. She can’t truly force someone to do something and if she uses too much power she gets migraines. ⭐ She gets along better with animals than with people ⭐ Big Lesbian ⭐ Kala from Voltron Force is her older sister but Merla thinks she died a long time ago ⭐ Merla also has a sister 8 years younger than her named Dyla ⭐ Merla herself actually has a rare pigmentation issue. Her whole color palette is much paler than normal. She’s like an albino of her species in a way. ⭐ Merla has multiple piercings, including several in either ear, a septum piercing, and snake bites. She used to have a tongue piercing but then she got her tongue split and it’s kinda hard to have both ⭐ As for tattoos, she also has more than one, but some are more important than others. On her chest she has vulture wings around an “angel eater,” a flower that, in her culture, means “don’t get too cocky, ya lil shit, you’re still mortal.” On the inside of her right bicep she has an old proverb, “the river goes, and with it the stones.” It means that, yeah, people can make you promises, but ultimately as life goes on things could change and the only person you can really count on is yourself. ⭐ Heart breaker. She doesn’t like getting into actual relationships, she finds them... messy. So when she finds someone she actually likes she dips. And as a Queen needing to one day provide an heir, this is troublesome. ⭐ Merla had a good relationship with one mother and a bad relationship with the other. One, Arella, was a kind hearted woman, who died due to complications having her 3rd child. Merla calls her “mother.” Her other parent was a cold woman who was only interested in herself. Merla simply refers to her as “that woman” or by her first name, Zenaran. ⭐ Dyla was born prematurely, but even if she was carried to term she still would have been a sickly child. To this day she is a very delicate girl, who Merla will protect at all costs. She stands at 5′5, four inches shorter than what’s average for her age. ⭐ Merla herself had complications relating to her birth, but Dyla got everything she had, then some, and dialed up. ⭐ Unlike Dyla and Merla, Kala had no issues in regards to her health and birth. Not only that, but she hardly resembles her other two sisters. This has led to rumors that perhaps the three sisters don’t all share the same two parents, but that Kala is actually a half sibling to Dyla and Merla. ⭐ For several reasons, Merla refuses to acknowledge these rumors and has made no effort to look into them. ⭐ Dyla has not left the safety of their home palace in many years, and hasn’t been off-planet since her toddler years. ⭐ Kala and Merla were close. Kala expected the very best of her little sister, and always pushed her to succeed. ⭐ Mama Arella was a usually kind woman who lacked a backbone, but it’s rumored that she slept around outside her marriage and Merla, despite not really wanting to think about it, also has suspicions in regards to her mother’s faithfulness. ⭐ Arella was monochromatic, having black hair and grey skin. She looked like an old school cartoon character come to life. ⭐ Zenaran, much like her wife, wasn’t very faithful. However, she didn’t bother to hide it. As the one of royal blood, she was the one of higher status and could pretty much get away with whatever she wanted. Plus being an execution happy tyrant also helped. ⭐ Zenaran had long, dark red hair and blue-grey skin. ⭐ Kala is 2 years older than Merla and bore a striking resemblance to Zenaran, with dark red hair and blue-grey skin. ⭐ Dyla, age 15, is a bright and kind girl, despite her rough start to life. She has white hair and dark grey skin. ⭐ Dyla and Merla have an odd relationship. Merla is, on one hand, very much devoted to her little sister, but on the other, dismissive of the younger girl’s thoughts and wishes. She sees Dyla as fragile and incapable of taking care of herself, thus needing constant supervision and someone to make decisions for her. Dyla, though she understands where her sister is coming from, grows increasingly frustrated. ⭐ There is only one person alive who knows the origin of Merla’s powers, and it’s the woman who Arella had an affair with. ⭐ Dyla also has powers like Merla’s, but aside from the Muses teaching her how to rein them in, she doesn’t really know how to use them.

Muses HCs ⭐ The Muses of Norn weren’t kidnapped, they came with Merla willingly ⭐ She sought them out in hopes of learning to control her telepathy ⭐ Now it’s just. Merla and her squad of pretty girls. Sappho and her gal pals. ⭐ The Muses of Norn are named Thetis, Sura, Ceralean, Penelope, Era, Josephine, and Melody. ⭐ Thetis is 22 and the leader of the muses. She stands at 5′5 with blue hair and eyes, and a light brown complexion. She is associated with leadership and honorable conduct. ⭐ Sura is Thetis’s younger sister, age 21. She has redish-pink hair and blue eyes and is 5′6. Her complexion, like her sister’s, is light brown but dotted with freckles. She’s the muscle in their team. She is associated with sportsmanship, combat, and strength. ⭐ Ceralean, age 21, functions as second in command. She’s the analytical type. She’s ghostly pale, with dark blue eyes and hair, standing at 5′4. She is associated with academia. ⭐ Penelope is the oldest at 25 and is the mother hen of the team. Blonde, brown eyes, stands at 5′11, and has a lightly tanned complexion. She is associated with domestically, crops, and the changing of seasons. ⭐ Era, age 23. She has red-brown hair, dark pink eyes, dark brown skin, and stands at 5′7. She is associated with liberation, freewill, and is considered the protector of young women. ⭐ Josephine is the youngest at 17. She’s a little bratty, but they love her anyway. She has black hair, brown eyes, light brown skin, and stands at 5′2. She is associated with childhood, rebirth, joy, and is considered the protector of children. ⭐ Melody, age 19, is the quiet, soft one. Stands at 5′5 with blonde hair and green eyes, and a fair complexion. She is associated with the fine arts and humility. ⭐ Note that they haven’t aged since the became muses, so they’re all technically much older than their physical age. ⭐ The Muses were once mortal women, who ascended to a sort of deity-type status. ⭐ Although the Muses cannot age or die of old age, they can still be killed. ⭐ Thetis, Sura, and Ceralean have a strong, familial type bond, despite the fact that the 3rd isn’t actually blood related to the first two. Sura and Ceralean butt heads often, and Thetis has to play mediator. ⭐ Sura and Era tend to be a bit more loose canon than the other muses. They get into all kinds of trouble together. ⭐ Ceralean is rather protective of Melody and in turn, Melody has a bit of a crush on her.

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 4

Hello, and let me once again introduce you to the whimsical world of Midnight Striga! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

As Luz glanced back between Amity’s pale face, and Willow’s nearly bursting rage, the pieces started coming together. With widened eyes, she said, “Wow. She didn’t remember you at all? That is cold.” She shook her head, her cautious respect for the ambitious woman having taken a hit. She bit her lip. “Are you two going to be okay?” She hesitantly asked, her and Gus looking concerned at the reactions of the two girls.

“I-!” Willow started, before pausing, the anger draining out of her face. “I’ll be fine. They aren’t worth the effort.” She said, sounding exhausted and drained. She sighed, smoothing out her dress. “Let’s just get this night over with.”

“Indeed, let’s.” Amity stated, face regaining some hints of color. With that awkward moment finally passing, the group headed into what they assumed was the room Amity had staked out to host the Moonlight Conjuring in. Before too long, the rest of the guests had started coming in: Amelia, Cat, Selena, Bo, and Skara. There weren't many, but they came all the same.

The girls froze upon seeing Luz, Amelia audibly gulping at the sight of her. The group frantically glanced back and forth between Luz in front of them, and Skara, situated at the back. Luz resisted the urge to roll her eyes, knowing it wouldn’t help any. She sighed, “Okay, look, I’m not going to assume I know why you’re all freaked out over me being here, though I do have a guess. I’m the security you were promised, and as long as I’m here, I’ll keep you all safe. Okay?” She finished, a note of hesitance in her voice.

“During the attack, someone I cared about was killed.”

The group turned towards Skara, staring straight at Luz, a blank, empty look in her eyes. Bo reached out, only for her arm to be gently pushed away. She stepped forward. “His name was Batthew. He wasn’t the smartest guy in the world, and he always went overboard. And now he’s dead.” Her voice sounded hollow, like she had no hope, no joy inside of her at all.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Luz said softly. If Skara was going to blame her for her friend’s death, she wouldn’t fight it.

Skara lightly shook her head. “Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault those maniacs killed him.” She stated, getting bewildered looks from all. Tears started to prick at the corners of Skara’s eyes. “All I want to say is thank you for avenging him. Even if you didn’t fight his killer, you helped stop those sickos, and prevented any more people from feeling the hurt I felt.”

Luz blinked, feeling some measure of relief that she didn’t hate her. That relief quickly shifted to guilt when she reminded herself Skara was grateful for stopping the people who had killed her crush/boyfriend. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve seen the kind of things the Black Dogs get up to when allowed to rampage.” She shuddered at the mental image. “I was more than glad to stop them.” She said gravely. She and Skara shared a solemn nod at her words.

With that, the tension seemed to bleed out of the room. Amity’s friends were still noticeably nervous around Luz, but it wasn’t anything too bad, and a few, such as Bo, even made an active effort to talk and interact with her.

“No way! Humans don’t have healing magic!?” Bo exclaimed, eyes wide with shock.

“Well, sorta,” Luz said sheepishly, scratching her head in embarrassment. “Back in the old days, it was a pretty common tactic of warring groups to attack enemy healers to deprive the opposition of their skills, as well as destroying information sources when capturing them wasn’t an option. Because of that, a lot of forms of magic and magical arts were all but lost, including Healing.” She finished, a soft frown on her face.

“Oh my Titan, that must be horrible!” Bo said, heart aching in sympathy of those whose lives were lost because they didn’t have access to healing magic.

“Yeah, I was honestly a little shocked when I learned that the Isles had healing magic.” Luz chuckled, arms crossed over her chest. “Still, efforts have been made to bring back Healing Magic, with assistance from those practitioners still alive in the world. Last I heard, Fiore, my home country, had actually established a school exclusively for the study and research of Healing Magic!”

“Well that’s a relief,” Bo sighed. “It might’ve come late, but at least it’s there now, and people can go get treatment when they need it, right?” She inquired.

“Yeah.” Luz said, cracking a sad grin. “Just wish it had come a little sooner.” She muttered.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing!”

Willow and Amelia were currently having a discussion about Plants. By all accounts, Willow was giving Amelia some pointers for upcoming assignments, particularly those dealing with more aggressive breeds of plants. Amelia frantically scribbled down the tips and suggestions Willow offered.

“Good, good, I can work with this!” Amelia excitedly exclaimed, relief and joy shining in her eyes. She turned to Willow, an embarrassed smile on her face. “You are seriously amazing at this!”

“It’s just some stuff I’ve pieced together in my free time.” Willow shrugged noncommittally. “I’m happy to share it if people think they need it, I just don’t see anything really special about it.”

Amelia gave a rueful grin, shaking her head. “And that’s why it’s so incredible! You figured all this stuff out on your own, when it took actual, fully-trained adults years to discover this stuff!” She gave Willow a sad smile. “You really are amazing.”

Willow averted her eyes, uncomfortable. Amelia may not have been as… aggressive as Boscha was at even her best, but she was still part of the group that made her school life difficult. But… Willow couldn’t find it in her to stay mad at the girl. She certainly didn’t like her, but she didn’t dislike her either. “Thanks, I guess?” She ultimately mumbled out.

Amelia briefly searched Willow’s face in confusion, before sighing in realization. “Look, Willow? About the whole ‘Half-a-Witch’ thing…” She started, proceeding carefully at Willow’s sharp look.

“Yeah?” Willow drawled, hackles raised.

Amelia bit her lip slightly, before continuing. “I’m sorry. It was a seriously lame thing to do, and to let Boscha and Amity get away with. Even if we weren’t friends, we could’ve done something to try and make things easier for you, but we just went along with it because it was easier.” She turned clear eyes towards Willow’s suspicious gaze. “It may not mean much now, but I will try and make things up to you. If that’s okay with you?” She gave a hopeful smile.

Willow mulled it over… but she didn’t feel any suspicions rousing at Amelia’s words. Sighing, she finally said, “I’m willing to give you a chance. I really don’t know how to feel about you and the others here.” She glanced over at Luz and Bo. “I honestly only came because my parents insisted, and because Gus and Luz were going to be here. But, if you really are serious about being sorry,” She gave a hesitant grin. “I’m willing to let bygones be bygones.” The two shared a nervous laugh. A thought came to Willow. “Hey, do you know why Boscha isn’t here?” She asked.

Amelia gave a snort. “Amity didn’t invite her, and considering how she’s been acting, that’s probably for the best.” She explained, getting a look of mixed confusion and concern from Willow. She elaborated, “Boscha basically screamed her head off at Skara and sent her into tears after she burned her, and she’s been avoiding everyone ever since. And between her and Skara, every one of us chose to stick by Skara.” She finished. Willow pondered the topic. As much as Boscha had caused her grief and some heartache over the years, she didn’t wish that kind of loneliness on anyone. She’d probably talk about it with Luz later.

Gus was surprisingly hitting it off rather well with Cat and Skara. Cat had basically volunteered to be Skara’s backup nurse for when Bo wasn’t around or when Bo just needed to take a break for herself. Skara frankly thought Gus was hilarious, even if she wasn’t really in a laughing mood, as his energy and nervousness gave him a unique air to him.

“-And so yeah, Bo’s a member of the HAS!” Gus finished explaining, getting a look of shared amusement from his conversation partners. “I mean, I guess with everything that’s happened, our group and the Human Roleplay Society is gonna get a lot of dirty looks after the attack.” He concluded, a look of bashfulness and sadness filling his features.

“Well, I guess I’ll have to join the HAS to send a message.” Skara remarked, getting an incredulous look from Gus, and a snort of amusement from Cat. “I’m serious! You shouldn’t be getting harassed because of what someone else did. Plus,” She gave a nervous smile, “It’ll let me hang out with Bo more often.”

“Well, I’m never one to turn away new members!” Gus excitedly cheered.

“I’ll bet.” Cat remarked sardonically, giving a loose shrug.

Unbeknownst to any of the guests, Amity had slipped away, stalking through her home on the search for her parents. The scowl on her face would’ve sent even the toughest of the Isles’ residents backpedalling. She roughly shoved her way past the assorted Abomination servants, utterly unwilling to deal with even the slightest of delays. Eventually, she made it to her father’s workshop, him STILL tinkering over his pet project, her mother calmly sipping her tea next to him while going over some of the paperwork from the family business. “Mother, Father.” She said with tightly controlled politeness.

“Ah, Mittens! How is the party going?” Her mother cordially asked, while her father gave a grunt of acknowledgement as to her presence. Odalia stood up, moving closer, pulling Amity to her side. “I must say, I am most impressed, sweety! Cultivating new relationships for the future with exceptional individuals, a stroke of brilliance!” She said, a proud smile across her face.

“Thank you.” Amity bit out, before continuing, “But what I actually came to talk to you about is-”

“MITTENS!!” Emira’s voice rang out, accompanied by frantic pounding. “GET ME AND ED OUT OF HERE!!!”

Amity turned a confused glance towards Odalia. “Emira was rather adamant about supervising your Conjuring, and when I tried to put my foot down, she… objected, rather aggressively. I had to seal her and Edric in the panic room so they wouldn’t get up to any mischief.” Her mother sheepishly explained, looking both pleased and annoyed at the ferocity her eldest daughter had displayed.

“I can understand locking up Emira,” Amity stated, quirking an eyebrow. “But why Edric?”

“Mittens, we both know he would free her in a heartbeat, if for no other reason than because it is Emira.” Odalia drolly stated, causing a brief moment of solidarity to pass between the two. Yes, they were both very familiar with Edric’s peculiarities and the sheer depth of his loyalty to his twin. “Now, what is it you wished to speak with me about, Mittens?” Odalia finally asked, getting back on track.

Amity breathed in deep, forcibly holding back her anger. “When you spoke with Willow, you implied that you only knew her through our confrontation at school, would that be accurate?” She tersely asked, getting a look of baffled surprise from Odalia, and a raised brow from Alador.

“Well, yes! Where else would I know her from?” Odalia rhetorically asked, a note of borderline condescension coloring her voice.

“Hmm… I must say, that name does seem familiar, but I can’t recall from where.” Alador muttered.

Amity’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Here’s a hint. My fifth birthday.”

“What does that have to do with anything!?” Odalia demanded in bewilderment, even as Alador mulled the hint over.

Alador snapped his fingers in realization. “Ah yes! Now I remember! Willow was the name of one of Amity’s playmates when she was little. When we noticed that she wasn’t developing as fast as her peers, we had Amity sever ties at her… fifth… birthday- oh.” He said, his usual tired expression widening into pale realization, even as Odalia’s own face shifted into horrified realization as the implications sunk in.

“Yes, oh.” Amity echoed, a look of bitter amusement on her face. She turned on her heel. “That was all the confirmation I needed. I believe that I will spend the remainder of the evening seeing to my guests. Mother, father.” And with that, she power-walked away, ignoring her mother’s cries to come back, to talk things over, as if she would. Amity ripped her necklace off, shoving it into her pocket, in no mood to hear her mother’s voice in her head tonight. Yet another blotch had appeared in her mental image of her parents. It was honestly mostly a black smear at this point anyway.

Eda glanced out at the sky, seeing that the Night Market was about to open, if the encroaching darkness was a solid indicator. She called over her shoulder, “Come on, King! We’ve got a shady seller to see about some potions!”

“Weh! I’m ready to go!” King cried, running up to her side, putting on a look of fierce (adorable) determination. She cracked a smirk at that. The two headed out, giving Hooty permission to use any and all means to defend the house in their absence, prompting a delighted shout of excitement from the friendly, if annoying, House Demon. Neither noticed, the heavy figure moving through the branches of the trees, stalking them on their approach to town, nor its bloodthirsty grin.

Luz glanced up from her discussion with Skara at Amity’s arrival to the room. “Hey Blight!” She cheerfully called out, only for her expression to shift into concern at Amity’s gloomy demeanor. “Something wrong?”

Amity sighed, waving off her concern. “It’s nothing, just an unpleasant talk with my parents.”

“Oh no, are they kicking us out!?” Gus exclaimed, a look of panicked despair crossing his face. He turned to Willow, clinging to her dress. “This is it! The moment of hopelessness as our dreams are dashed to pieces! Willow my friend, it was fun while it lasted!” He cried, sobbing into her dress, much to Willow’s exhaustion.

“What!?” Amity asked, baffled, before shaking it off. “No, you’re not getting kicked out, I just had something unpleasant confirmed. Please, you’re free to stay.” She said, bemused at the cheer of relief Gus let out, even as Luz and Willow shook their heads in amusement at his antics.

“Well, I guess it’s about time for me to start doing the job you recruited me for.” Luz said with a joking tone, heading for the door. She flicked a finger gun towards the group. “Save me some snacks for when I get back, okay?”

“Will do!” Willow called back.

Snorting in amusement, Luz made her way to the front door, planning on crawling up to the top of the roof for a vantage point against any attackers. Plus, she thought standing on a roof by moonlight was badass. Chuckling to herself at her inner geek rearing its head, Luz pulled the door open, only to go still at what she saw. Seven humans, all standing outside the door, staring her down. However, what really drew her gaze was the figure in the center, someone she hadn’t seen in quite some time. “Neon!?” Luz exclaimed in shock.

“LuLu!” The girl exclaimed, jumping towards Luz in a flying hug. The blue-haired girl eagerly buried her face into Luz’s side, a look of childish excitement covering her face. “Oh I just knew it was you!!” She pulled back, her face puffing out in a pout. “And here you are, having a fun-time slumber party without me!” She whined, flailing her arms. Luz felt her face go deadpan, even as the others, guards she figured, sighed in exhaustion at the antics of their charge. Yup, this was definitely Neon. Neon crossed her arms, a look of defiance covering her, admittedly adorable, features. “And since I’m here, I’m gonna be joining this party, whether you like it or not!”

“There is absolutely no way I’m talking you out of this, is there?” Luz droned, already resigned to the excitable girl’s antics.

“Nope!”

Amity busied herself with the setup for the Conjuring, intently ignoring the glances the others sent her way. She wasn’t distracting herself from the confirmation that, yes, her parents were callous enough to completely disregard one of the most bitter memories in her life, not in the slightest.

“Hey, guys?” Luz’s voice called out, drawing the attention of the group to the door. “We might have a situation!” Everyone was instantly on guard; Bo, Cat, and Amelia were nervous, seriously wondering if they were in danger, while Skara and Gus grew nervous but steeled themselves, even as Willow and Amity braced themselves for an attack. “Now, don’t be alarmed, but we’ve got some… surprise guests is all!”

With that said, Luz walked into the room. Everyone instantly took note of the girl tightly clinging to Luz’s side, a thin girl, roughly around their age, with messy blue hair held up in a ponytail by a yellow ribbon, a long-sleeved purple striped shirt under a vest, a long skirt going to her calves. She was beautiful, with delicate features that screamed innocence and gentleness, with brilliant blue eyes shining outward. Following behind them were six other humans, all varying in appearance, the only commonality being the immaculate black suits they wore.

“Um, Luz?” Willow tentatively asked. “Who’s this?” She asked, gesturing to the girl tightly hugging Luz’s side.

“Ugh, everyone, this is Neon Nostrade. She’s a friend of mine from the Human Realm. Neon, these are my friends and acquaintances from the Demon Realm.” Luz intoned, introducing the girl to the group and vice versa.

“Oooh!! It’s so amazing to meet you all! I am Neon, heiress of the Nostrade family, and these are my guards!” She cheerfully announced, wildly gesturing to the group behind her. “Basho,” She pointed to the tallest, a muscular man with a cleft chin, pompadour, mustache and sideburns, who gave a friendly wave, “Piper,” a round, short figure with prominently pointed front teeth, long hair with a significant bald spot on top who gave a small nod, “Baise,” a beautiful woman whose hair was done up in an intricate braided top-knot offered a short wave, “Tocino,” A gangly fellow with bright orange hair offered a smile, “Squala,” a darker skinned man with tightly pinned back hair gave a two-fingered salute, “and Kurapika!” The last guard, a handsome young man with rich blond hair, gave a bow, a polite smile on his face. Neon turned a sweet grin to the group. “They keep me safe from meanies who wanna steal my predictions!”

The assembled witches numbly waved in greeting. They all turned to Luz, who groaned.

“Look, I have no idea how they got here, but I can vouch for Neon, and I know her dad screens her guards to an insane degree. They won’t be a risk to us.” She stated, nodding to the group.

“Oh LuLu, you say the nicest things!” Neon cheered, eagerly hugging Luz’s arm.

“LuLu?” Amity questioned.

“Uh huh, LuLu!” Neon eagerly agreed. “LuLu was my very first bodyguard! Originally, papa kept me tucked away so my future husband would be the first person outside the family to see me!” The Witches paled. “But then I figured out fun magic, and papa made a bunch more money than usual, and he said I wasn’t gonna have a husband anymore, and he had his business buddies give him LuLu to protect me!” She cheerfully explained. “After that, LuLu took me into town a bunch and I had lots of fun! I got to shop for my own clothes, and didn’t have to wear dolly dresses anymore, and got to eat yummy food that wasn’t just veggies and water, and I even met a nice man who was getting money for his sick momma’s medicine and I gave him a bunch of money, but LuLu took him into an Alley and gave him her money and got mine back!” She just kept rambling away, even as her guards slumped over in exhausted resignation, a matching expression on Luz’s face.

“Hey, Neon? We’ve got some snacks set up, if you want any.” Luz said, pointing to the tray of goodies.

“Ooh! Yummy!” Neon cheered, rushing for the treats, eagerly stuffing them into her mouth.

The blond guard, Kurapika, spoke up. “Please excuse the Young Miss. She means well, but… she doesn’t have the most experience with the real world, I’m afraid.” He formally stated, giving a deep bow to the Witches. As he pulled up, he added, “I believe it is accurate of me to say that we are very grateful for you allowing us in. When the Young Miss overheard that her friend,” he gestured to Luz, who was currently staring at a wall, dead to the world, “was going to be attending a gathering at night with a group of youths, she insisted we come.” He sighed.

“By all means, this is no trouble.” Amity stated diplomatically, compartmentalizing the barrage of information Neon had blurted out, focusing on the gentlemen before her. Noticing the nervousness of the others, she asked, “Forgive me, but our Isles have recently been attacked by a group known as Oroboros, and everyone is on edge when it comes to humans, and while I mean no offense, I have to ask, do you have any association with them?”

The guards gained matching looks of dark loathing. “No, we do not.” Kurapika stated, his voice a mask of tightly controlled cool politeness. He relaxed slightly as he explained, “We were hired to guard Miss Neon so as to keep her predictive magic from being taken, along with her. While her father is, unfortunately, a high-ranking financier for Oroboros, we fortunately exist outside of that nest of darkness’ command structure.”

Amity nodded, filing away the information. “While I’m not sure how much you can actually say, would you care to explain how you all got to the Isles?”

As Kurapika opened his mouth to reply, he was cut off by Neon’s shout. “We passed through a big gate filled with water, and then Zoop! We were on the Isles!” She cheerfully called over, before resuming stuffing her face. Her guards just sighed, nodding at her words.

“What Miss Neon says is true.” Kurapika stated with a rueful grin. “While we don’t know its precise nature, we entered this Realm through the use of a Water Magic based portal. It was… quite the experience.” He finished, a look of embarrassment crossing his features at some memory.

“Thank you.” Amity said, moving over to Luz, who was still staring a whole into the wall. She pulled in close, harshly whispering into her ear. “That girl mentioned she had been kept in seclusion until her marriage. How old was she to be during it?”

“Thirteen.” Luz growled out. “The fact creep was one of the few people I’ve killed and not regretted, at least not outside the abstract regret of killing at all. I honestly would’ve preferred to expose the corrupt monster, but I had to settle for putting him out of people’s misery.” She turned a burning glare towards Amity. “And Neon’s dad is even worse.”

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mangamushi · 3 years

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Thoughts on Saikyou Densetsu Kurosawa

FUKUMOTO Nobuyuki, 11 volumes, published from 2003 to 2006 in Big Comic Original (Seinen)

Saikyou Densetsu Kurosawa (Legend of the strongest man Kurosawa) follows the story of 44 years old construction worker Kurosawa as he realizes he spent most of his life without any meaningful connections with anyone nor any special achievements. He decides to change his life so that he can become proud of his own accomplishments and efforts, and earn respect and appreciation from the people around him.

(spoiler warning)

So I’m currently binging Fukumoto manga, after having them on my “plan to read” list for several years…I started with Kaiji, but initially the first manga of his that caught my interest was Kurosawa. The themes of it are right up my alley, and I like main characters that are not teenagers or young adults.

Kurosawa has a sequel, Shin Kurosawa: Saikyou Densetsu, which is a direct continuation. I’ll mostly be focusing on the first part here.

The art is typical Fukumoto style. Odd at first, definitely not the prettiest nor the most impressive out there, but it does the job and I really grew to like it. He doesn’t hesitate to give exaggerated features to his characters, and I actually find the deliberate ugliness of the character designs refreshing. It certainly fits the story of Kurosawa, makes the characters very expressive and works well with the often comedic tone.

Although the art looks simple, Fukumoto can deliver very intense pages when he needs to.

His forte is in his use of narration combined with the picture, rather than in the drawings alone. He is a master at using a narrator’s comments or the character’s thoughts to raise tension and make the manga flow better.

Kurosawa is definitely written with a lot of heart. Both the manga itself and the titular character, feel very genuine. Kurosawa is very flawed and very human. He is rough but powerful, his desires are simple, and he is straightforward in his reactions, to the point that his impulsive nature and lack of social restraints put him in trouble, especially when it comes to women...

There are a few instances however where he comes close to harassing women, which is played for laugh, which I disliked. Those scenes made me less sympathetic towards him as he actually deserved the repercussions of his actions here.

But besides those chapters, Kurosawa is overall a likeable character, easy to sympathize with and to root for as we see him at a low point of his life.

He is clumsy in his interactions with his coworkers, which, coupled with his hot-temper, often leads to misunderstandings and prevents him from getting closer to them despite his best efforts. I actually found Kurosawa’s failed attempts at achieving popularity reminiscent of Watamote. The beginning of both series, in which a pathetic main character fails repetitively at gaining the appreciation of their peers through outlandish strategies, elicits the same mixture of pity, second-hand embarrassment, and amusement.

Kurosawa also gets into a fair number of fights. While those fight-focused chapters were not bad, I was personally less into them.

Drawing literal fist-fights in not what Fukumoto’s best at. His character’s postures are somewhat stiff, which he compensates for with heavy use of speed-lines. It is okay-ish, but I want read a fight scene, there’s plenty of fighting manga out there that can do a better job.

I like Fukumoto more when he writes more psychological battles, like in his gambling mangas. Of course, psychological elements and strategies where not totally absent from the fights, but it was nowhere as much as in his gambling manga. Sometimes I think Kurosawa was a bit too lucky in the fights, as he is not a very athletic person nor someone with a lot of experience in fighting. It did not feel very convincing to me.

Besides, it is through these battles that Kurosawa gathers allies, a reputation and respect. But most of his opponents are teenagers, even middle-schoolers ! Granted they are very scary teenagers, but I still fail to see how a 44 years old man throwing hands with teenagers is such a praise worthy thing...

I think I prefer to see Kurosawa fight and struggle to improve his life in a less literal way that actual physical fighting.

I haven’t read that many of Fukumoto’s works yet, but I feel like an important theme in them is perseverance/resilience. He puts his characters through a lot, but they tend to have some form of resistance that shines through as admirable. Kurosawa’s will to fight and to push back against adversity is sometimes the only thing he has left, and it is extremely important.

However, that is not an innate ability that comes to him easily -at times Kurosawa hides, flees, cowers. He hesitates, and he needs to think things through before he actually decides to fight.

Fukumoto: You know how protagonists in shonen manga do things like jump in to stop their classmate from being bullied without thinking about how they might get beaten up themselves? I always felt that wasn’t real. So with Kurosawa, I wanted to make a manga that shows hesitation, and how it actually isn’t so easy to defend people like that.

(Excerpt from this interview)

I like this kind of manga where characters reflect about what is the right decision to take and on how they should be living their life. And how the reader has access to their inner turmoil and thoughts.

His strength is often born from sheer desperation and desire to survive. It is when he is cornered that he can manage to act and fight even when the odds are against him. He has to make do with the very few tools and options he has, which leads him to elaborate unconventional tactics to win over his opponents.

Having cornered underdogs characters winning over more powerful, but less desperate, opponents seems like a running theme in Fukumoto’s manga (cf. the made-up E-card Game from Kaiji, in which The Slave is the only card that can win against The Emperor, precisely because it is so low that it has nothing to lose anymore).

In a way, one could argue Kurosawa follows a formula reminiscent of classic shounen manga: a character who is below average at first rises to a heroic status through willpower, effort and after fighting a string of opponents. However, there are major differences that set Kurosawa apart, besides the older characters and more adult setting (Kurosawa’s worries are grounded in reality: growing old alone, financial problems...) Kurosawa does not provide escapism and dreams. The story begins with Kurosawa as a single old man, and ends with him an even older still single man. He does not become an amazing fighter through power boost and magic training like a shounen character might.

He does want to dream big, but all things considered, his achievements are fairly modest. He is not saving the world or becoming hokage. At most he is just helping some other marginalized people from his neighborhood.

Even if he puts his life on the line to fight, what he accomplished will fade into oblivion at some point.

But, even so, his efforts and struggle are still admirable.

Besides, Kurosawa is not about friendship, at least not the kind of friendship you find in shounen manga.

In Fukumoto’s manga, people may stick together for survival, they can share intense emotions when put through the same ordeals, but it’ll rarely turn into true companionship. Kurosawa is alone from the start, and while he does connect with other people throughout the story, in the sequel those relationships are left behind as he leaves on his own to start a new life.

Fukumoto: My protagonists, on the other hand, are always alone – not only do they not have followers, they don’t even have friends. (laugh) [...] I can’t do manga where the characters readily make friends that they risk their lives for. I started out by drawing short human drama pieces, but even then – partially because I wasn’t doing long-term series, but – they weren’t generally stories about friends.

I was kind of expecting Asai, one of Kurosawa’s coworker, to have a bigger role, but that didn’t happen. (I liked the part where he tried to comfort Kurosawa after he got humiliated so I was hoping for more!)

The story isn’t very cohesive or straighforward, it just follows Kurosawa’s life, who wants to change but lacks a clearly defined goal or road to follow. There isn’t one big coherent plot, instead the story goes in different directions, shifting from one genre to another from chapter to chapter. Kurosawa even admits it himself !

The quality of the chapters and different arcs is in my opinion rather uneven.

There are some really powerful scenes, notably the very end of the manga which is very touching. Kurosawa successfully leads a group of homeless men to defend themselves against some delinquents who were threatening them, but as a result of his injuries, he is implied to die. (The sequel manga reveals he actually just goes into coma for 8 years). It is bittersweet ending as he finally achieved something and is surrounded by human warmth.

Shin Kurosawa, the sequel, is similar to the first part, though slightly more light-hearted and focused on humor (even though Kurosawa’s situation technically worsens!). It seems to be less liked than the first part for those same reasons, but I personally enjoy Fukumoto’s humor and his more slice of life-y mangas. It has many genuinely funny moments. Once in a while there are still some chapters that feel deeper/more thought provoking, as Fukumoto likes to reflect about society, life, and humanity in his stories.

For anyone looking for other manga with similar themes, I can recommend Furuya Minoru’s excellent Wanitokagegisu . Both feature very lonely adult men who wish to turn their life around, and oscillate between humor and psychological drama.

#fkmt #saikyou densetsu kurosawa #fukumoto noboyuki #kurosawa #manga

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