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messers-moony · 4 years ago

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Moony Wants, Moony Gets | R.L

Paring: Young!Remus Lupin X Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Moony has a natural wanting for his mate making his possessiveness visible the closer it gets to the full moon.

He was always jealous. Blame it on the wolf in him, if you will, but Remus Lupin was highly possessive. Especially over what’s his - maybe not even what’s his but what he wants. She was gorgeous and his perfect mate—long tuffs of h/c hair and gleaming e/c eyes that glittered in the limelight. There was one problem with her, though—one major flaw in her mess of perfection.

Y/n L/n, cunning, ambitious, resourceful, and charismatic.

That was the problem. Y/n was a Slytherin, and Remus was a half-blood Gryffindor. To make matters worse, her closest friend was Regulus Black - Sirius Blacks brother. Remus’ best friend's brother. But Remus couldn’t help it. Her voice was like a siren's call, and her beauty was a rival to Aphrodite, but she had the wisdom of Athena. Y/n was a perfect balance of everything.

Closer to the full moon, his possessiveness became more of a problem. Sirius was noticing the low growl that would erupt from Remus whenever someone stepped close to Y/n. James saw the lingering glares left on any male within a six feet distance of her. Even Peter observed his green eyes turn a shade darker as if someone mixed black paint into his usually bright eyes.

Y/n sat at the Slytherin table, a cup of coffee beside her as she spoke intently with Regulus. Meanwhile, a Gryffindor across the Great Hall was glaring daggers at the younger Black brother's head. Sirius nudged him, grabbing his attention.

“Mate, you’re growling again.” Sirius whispered, and Remus’ cheeks turned pink, “Am not.”

James gave an unconvincing grin, “Mhm, totally.”

“I was not growling.”

“I think you were.” James replied, “Definitely was.” Sirius added.

Remus sighed, pushing his plate away to lay his head on the table, “What’s got Moony all wound up?” James queried, Remus, deadpanned looking at the laughing girl across the room.

“I think I know.” Sirius simpered, “Do you now? Don’t be a tosser.” James stated teasingly.

“Turn around. Slytherin, talking with Reggie.”

He turned and looked back at Remus with his jaw dropped, “No- fucking- way.”

“What?”

“She’s the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, you tosser!”

“Oh…”

James snorted, “Yeah, oh.”

“Looks like Moony found his mate.” Sirius winked, and Remus groaned, “Shut up about it, will you?”

“Never.”

It felt weird. James wouldn’t shut up about how brilliant Y/n was, how the Slytherin’s Quidditch team was able to make plays that no one else would’ve even thought about. Sirius wouldn’t stop offering to talk to Regulus to see if maybe he had any intel on her. Strangely enough, Peter was silent but had a guilty look on his face. Guilty sufficient for Remus to comment.

“Why do you look guilty, Wormtail?” Remus inquired, and Peter's cheeks flushed pink, “She- Y/n isn’t- um….”

“What do you know that we don’t, Peter?” Sirius queried, his voice harsh, “She isn’t what you think. That’s all I’m saying.” Peter stammered out nervously.

James tilted his head at the blue-eyed boy, “And you know this how?”

“She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

“Woah! Hold on a second!” Sirius exclaimed in shock, “When did this happen?!”

“Back in fourth year.” Peter informed, “She seemed nice enough until you start to get serious with her. Y/n’s sharp-tongued and extremely ill-tempered.”

Sirius sniggered, “Sounds like Moony.”

“Oi!”

“Sorry!”

“So, what does this mean for Remus?” James questioned further, “It doesn’t mean anything. Just be careful. I don’t care if you date her. Means nothing to me.” Peter replied, putting his hands up in innocent.

Remus stared at Peter with curiosity swirling. How much did he truly know about Y/n? How did he manage to date her? Nonetheless, it didn’t mean anything to Remus because Moony wanted her. What Moony wants is what Moony gets. Later that evening, after prefect patrol, he padded into the library to dismiss any working students. But there were only two students inside. They sat in a secluded corner of the library. Regulus Black and Y/n L/n.

Was it envy? Was it jealousy? He didn’t have time to ponder. Y/n had her head laid on Regulus’ shoulder and both her arms wrapped around his one arm. Regulus had leaned his head on top of hers, wavy black hair intertwined with her h/c hair. Both their eyes were closed, apparent they were asleep—potion and Transfiguration books placed on top of the wooden table along with an open sketchbook.

What was he supposed to do in this situation? Wake them up? If it was just Y/n, perhaps he could’ve, but Regulus was with her, and Regulus wasn’t too fond of Remus for being friends with his older brother. Madam Pince had already left for the night, either choosing not to disturb them or didn’t notice them. Remus saw the inkpot beside the Potions book, almost empty. It was Y/n’s inkpot because the ink wasn’t black. It was a deep grape color.

Remus sighed and grabbed the ink from his bag, charming it the same color. Discretely he took hers and swapped it out with his. Leaving a piece of parchment on top. Remus left the library without another word. Waking them up was a risk he’d rather not take. But now, he laid in his bed wondering how she’d feel about the new ink on the table.

The sun began to rise, and Y/n’s body felt stiff. Carefully she began to stir awake after noticing a body beside her. Opening her eyes, everything seemed blurry, but after blinking a few times, she recognized the library books and the person's scent beside her. Regulus, her best friend. Y/n yawned and pulled away from him, about to begin packing their belongings, but she noticed a piece of parchment that lay on top of her ink.

“Noticed you were out. You can have mine.“

Y/n hummed appreciatively. She didn’t know who gave her their ink, but she was eternally grateful for them saving her a trip to Hogsmeade. Y/n poked at Regulus’ right side, and he eventually stirred awake. His curls disheveled and his body just as stiff as she was. Regulus opened his eyes and met her e/c ones.

“Did we fall asleep?” He groaned, and Y/n scoffed, “What do you think, dingus?”

“No need to be mean this early in the morning, Merlin.”

“Someone saw us last night, though.” Y/n stated, and Regulus noticeably jumped, “Who?”

She shrugged, “Not sure, but they left me a new pot of ink.”

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”

Both best friends cleared their table. Y/n put her Potions books away, and Regulus put his Transfiguration books away. Y/n stared at the writing on the parchment she had received earlier that day. The handwriting was almost unrecognizable. It was messy and sprawled. Whoever this was did not have good handwriting or was in a rush. But the day carried on. In Potions, Y/n sat in the front while the Marauders sat in the back. Remus stared holes in the back of Y/n’s head.

“She’s gonna notice if you keep staring at her like that.” Sirius muttered.

Remus sighed and continued to write his notes. If he tried hard enough, he could make out her elegant purple ink from here. It always baffled him why she chose purple over traditional black - suppose it wasn’t really any of his business, but he couldn’t help but wonder. The familiar sketchbook sat on top of the desk as well; he could see doodles in the same deep purple color. Occasionally Regulus - who sat beside her - would nudge her to pay attention, gaining an annoyed groan.

Potions class always smelt weird. It was a mixture of glue, seaweed, and salt. It was also constantly humid. It brought shivers down Remus’ spine. He noticed it doing the same to the Slytherin girl at the front. Remus craved nothing more than to wrap his robe around her, but he was too late. Regulus was already doing the action, which earned him one of her jaw-dropping smiles. Unconsciously he began growling again. This time, James smacked his arm.

“Mate!”

“Sorry…”

Dinner was even worse. Y/n had yet to remove Regulus’ robes leaving him in a button-down white shirt and the usual uniform. Sirius was surprised at his younger brother's chivalry but didn’t speak much. The full moon was that night, and as dinner progressed, Remus only gained more possessive. James and Sirius gave up on trying to scold him. It was apparent Moony wanted - no - needed her. Slytherin captain be damned, Y/n was going to be Moonys.

A dry winter night. As usual, Remus walked to the Whomping Willow with his three friends following him. Tonight was normal in the sense of his friends turning into their animagus,’ but the odd thing was letting him out of the shack. The werewolf and the dog ran around the forest together. The rat and stag lagging behind, allowing the two animals to play together. But a stick-breaking brought the attention of the werewolves to the new person.

He could smell them. Hear their blood running through their veins. Their heart pounding at a standard rate. The dogs barking could be heard, trying to distract the werewolf. The scent was female, and she wasn’t scared. Instead, the girl approached with confidence sticking out her hand to the wolf. Padfoot barked loudly. Prongs backed down, looking nervous. Wormtail squeaked loudly. But she came with confidence and assurance.

Moony growled, “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She cooed, “You’re safe with me.”

The h/c haired girl knelt on the grass, “No need to be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Moony hesitantly put his snout in the girl's palm, making her grin. His fur was soft to the touch, and his eyes turned soft. Her smile was beautiful, and Moony nuzzled his hand into her soft palm. She chuckled and patted him more. Padfoot barked excitedly and ran to her, but the werewolf started to bare his teeth again.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m yours.”

The wolf seemed to calm down at her words allowing Padfoot to approach her. Smiling brightly, she pet both animals, “It’s okay, love.”

“My name’s Y/n. I didn’t know that there was a werewolf here.” Y/n greeted as Moony curled up beside her, his head on her thigh, Padfoot doing the same on the other side.

She caught sight of the other two animals and whistled for their attention, “C’mere.”

Prongs and Wormtail approached nervously, but Moony gave no sense of protectiveness. Y/n’s words resonated in his head over and over again, “I’m yours.” The wolf fell asleep beside her, Padfoot doing the same. Prongs approached, and Y/n patted the top of his head. Wormtail sat in front of her knee. They seemed at peace. It was the first time Moony ever felt at ease. They’d be lying if it didn’t make them happy.

Y/n stayed up all night with the animals. Despite the animals not knowing, Y/n knew that the stag, rat, and dog were animagus’. The werewolf was unknown to her. The following morning when the stag turning into James, rat into Peter, dog into Sirius. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to find out who the werewolf was. When he turned back into a human with his clothes tattered. Y/n continued to run her fingers through his hair as he slept.

“Morning, Marauders,” Y/n commented.

“You’re- you-“ James stuttered.

She laughed, “Apparently, your moony really likes me.”

“Would you mind petting me again?” Sirius teased, “Maybe.” Y/n retorted, winking.

Sirius laid down on her other thigh that Remus wasn’t laying on, smiling; she ran her fingers through their hair, “You’re a godsend, lemme tell you.”

James and Peter sat in front of Y/n, “What made you want to take a walk in the forbidden forest last night?”

“Just wanted some air.” Y/n answered.

Remus groaned and began pushing his head onto Y/n’s hand, “Morning, Remus.”

The Marauders and Y/n had never seen him jump up that fast, “What- you- I- uh-“

“Didn’t know you were a werewolf.”

“I- uh…”

“Sirius, for the love of God, get off her lap.” James interject, slapping the boy on the head playfully, “But it feels so good.” Sirius drawled.

James grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the grass. In the process, Sirius got a mouthful of dirt and grass, “You wanker.”

“Did I- erm- hurt you?” Remus questioned shyly, “Nope, I'm completely unscathed.” Y/n smiled reassuringly.

Remus turned to his friends, “Nope! Y/n saved us all.”

“Are you hurt?” Y/n inquired to Remus, who took a quick look at himself, “I- I don’t believe so….”

Sirius blew a raspberry, “Thank Merlin! Dragging you to the hospital wing is bloody exhausting.”

Silence filled the forest until Sirius smirked, “You know, mate when you were talking about Moony wanting her. I thought you were joking. Turns out you weren’t.”

“Oi!”

“Oh, Merlin…”

Y/n chuckled, “Well, Moony is rather cute if I’m honest.”

Remus’ cheeks blasted with pink, and Sirius laughed. James shook his head with a big grin, and Peter looked amused with Y/n’s confession. Without hesitation, Y/n leaned over to kiss Remus’ cheek, making him hide his face flustered. She stood up and ruffled Sirius’ hand, gently rubbing her nails across his scalp, making Sirius try to lean into her palm. They all stared at her except for Remus, who was equally embarrassed and flustered.

“If you’re looking for a fifth Marauder, I know the Slytherin common room password.” Y/n winked as she walked to the castle.

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itsallabigmess · 5 years ago

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Crescente | Part Five

A/N: I’m a bit late on my schedule but here it is. Now, I told some of you there would be a certain scene on this part but I decided to move it to the next one. Part Six will be the last part of this series but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna add an epilogue to the story. Once again, thank you all for commenting on the previous parts. I can’t wait to read what you have to say about this one.

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

“Y/N, please. Come back to bed.”

You woke up with the sound of angry waves reaching the shore. Kneeling over the small couch, you watch your plans to spend the day at the beach being spoiled by the bad weather.

“Maybe it will get better later,” you look over your shoulder, at Jinyoung. His eyes barely open as he lifts half of his body from the bed with a growl, as if it is the hardest thing to do. “Just come back to bed.”

But you are not sleepy anymore. Tired? Maybe, a little bit. Especially your legs. But unlike Jinyoung, you have no wish to spend the morning or the entire day in bed.

And then, you remember.

You rush downstairs, grabbing the travel guide from the telephone table. The package offered full access to the Resort’s Spa. How could you not think of it instantly? You ask Jinyoung, going back to the room if he wants to join you. He answers by pulling the comforter over his head and fake snoring.

You spend the next three hours having your head massaged and hair washed, and then massaged again. Your entire body gets scrubbed and moisturized. You remember yourself to not vocalize anything that might sound weird, but you are so relaxed, it gets hard to form any coherent thought. Or stay awake.

When you finally open your eyes, they feel watery and heavy. “I fell asleep, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” the therapist smiles down at you, massaging your hands. “That’s good. It means I’m doing my job right.”

She gives you a final neck and shoulder massage before guiding you to another room where you’ll get your hair blow-dried. When it’s all done, you are invited to stay as long as you want in the relaxation area of the spa. This is great since you feel too light to do anything other than sink on the plush couch with a cup of warm tea.

---

The villa is dead silent when you come back. Jinyoung is still lost in deep sleep, somehow. You don’t wake him. His stomach will do it for you very soon, you are certain. At some point, while you were at the spa, the rain had stopped. Grey clouds still cover the sky, but you can see the sun trying to make its way through it. You go inside to change into one of your bathing suits and loose shorts and go for a stroll by the shore.

You walk long enough to reach the next villa, and the next one after that before turning around. You see a family playing near the water, where is shallow and the kids can run freely. You move closer to where the small waves cover your calves. The water is far from the coldness you were expecting, and you are taking your time enjoying it.

The back pocket of your shorts vibrates. Jinyoung is finally up and asking where you are? Just in time, you think. Your stomach is starting to growl.

[13:22/You] Almost there. At the beach. Go outside and look to your right.

From the distance, you can see his form standing in the sand. The closer you get, you notice Jinyoung had already changed to his vacation look: knee-length shorts and a plain t-shirt. This one is black. His hair is not completely brushed, eyes are puffy.

“How late did you go to sleep last night?”

“Not that late,” Jinyoung grumbles, pressing his palms over his eyes. “I haven’t overslept like that since I was a freshman. Effects of jet lag I guess.”

“Good thing we’re on a vacation. You can sleep as much as you want.”

“Says the person who seems to hate the idea of catching on sleep.”

You shrug, spinning in place. “I can sleep once we get back home. Who knows when I will have the chance to be in a place like this again? Can you even remember the last time you went on a trip?”

“Didn’t you go to Europe last year?” Jinyoung raises a brow, his hands hidden inside the pockets on his shorts.

“Paris, for work,” you sigh heavily. “Couldn’t even see the Eiffel Tower so what’s the point.”

Jinyoung presses his lips in an awkward thin smile and nods to where you are standing. “Isn’t the water cold?”

“Not in the slightest,” you say, and to prove your point you kick it in his direction, a trickster grin on your face.

“Really?” Jinyoung steps back. He looks unamused and unimpressed, just like he did on the day you visited one of the islands nearby. You don’t even try again. Your stomach is rumbling, and you need to fill it with food. But when you pass by him, Jinyoung grabs you from behind, lifting you by the waist. “You are not gonna get away from it that easily.”

He drags you towards the ocean and you can’t stop squirming, trying to get away from his grip. “No… Jinyoung… please… stop!” You try to speak in between laughs. And when you feel the water reaching your knees you scream “My phone!”

Jinyoung releases you and you run back to the villa, reaching for your back pocket. Your phone is still intact, thank God. “That was close.” You say to Jinyoung as he reaches you, shaking the device for him to see. He takes it from your hard and throws it over one of the sunbeds. You have a second to think before Jinyoung grabs you again, lifting you as if you weight nothing, dragging you back to where he intends to give you a lesson.

When did he become so strong? That is all you can think as he makes you two go underwater. You come to the surface and jump over his shoulder, but Jinyoung is way more agile than you, and, with his arms around your middle, you go under again. When you finally manage to escape, you crawl out of the water, letting your body fall in the sand.

“I got the message,” you say breathlessly to Jinyoung when he sits by your side. “No teasing.”

“If you can’t handle the outcome,” he lays on his side, head propped on his left hand, his right coming to gently wipe away a few grains of sand and sea-salt from your cheeks, your collarbones, your shoulders. There’s a fondness in his eyes when he speaks again. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Making a fool of myself?”

“No,” Jinyoung shakes his head, his eyes following the way his right-hand slides down your arm, finding a way to stop on your waist. “Happy.”

When his eyes meet yours again, you realize you are holding your breath, just like you were a minute ago underwater. It takes a few heartbeats to remember you are at no risk of drowning. Even if it feels like it. “I won’t stay happy once we get inside and I see that all the hair treatments I got at the spa went literally down the water.”

“Don’t worry, you still look great. You always do,” Jinyoung spread his hand over your middle, and on cue, your stomach growls, making you both chuckle. He in amusement, you in pure embarrassment. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

Jinyoung gets up and stretches his hand to you. “Let’s get lunch.”

---

With the weather still unstable and without many options of what to do, you and Jinyoung decide to rent a car and drive to one of the towns close to the resort. You have local food in a small restaurant and go for a walk, stopping in a few shops, buying some gifts for yourself and to bring back home.

“I thought we were not going to tell people about the trip,” Jinyoung says.

“It’s not like people won’t notice my tan,” you point out, looking down at your arms. “Besides, if I don’t take something back to my boss, she will never let me take time off work again.”

While you are busy picking different types of coffee and chocolate, Jinyoung finds out the city has an enormous botanic garden only 30 minutes away from where you are. You love walking between the picturesque buildings, the grey old structures fitting well with the cloudy day. But it is still so muggy, you both are glad to enjoy a few minutes in the air conditioning of the car.

The botanic garden is huge. The biggest in the country, you learn not long after arriving. There is no chance of you seeing at least half of it in the two hours you have left before sundown. But there is enough time to appreciate the rose and orchid gardens, refresh yourself by the natural fountains on one of the courtyards, and visit the cactus greenhouse.

“You know they have treetop activities here?” Jinyoung says grinning and you look over your shoulder at him. “We could go zip-lining again.”

“Ha! No thanks, I’m still traumatized.”

The air has shifted once you left the greenhouse. The air blows cold now and you are not surprised when, on your way back to the car, heavy rain starts falling down on you. You and Jinyoung start running, desperately looking for cover until he spots a desolate wooden gazebo.

“Another thing to check out of the list to do during the trip,” you laugh, twisting the hem of your shirt. You are completely soaked and for some reason, you don’t mind it in the slightest.

“For someone who was whining about the lack of sun in the morning, you seem abnormally amused.”

You shrug, sitting on the bench in one of the corners. “I can’t say it ruined my day.”

“The weather should clear tomorrow,” he says, brushing back the wet locks of black hair as he sits by your side. “So we can have a day at the beach.”

“We?” you raise a brow at him.

“I mean, I will be sitting under the shadows while you will be…”

“Paddle-boarding. Maybe ride a Jetski? And of course lots and lots of sunbathing,” you hug your own body and close your eyes. Maybe if you don’t mind the rain, you do wish for the sun warm. “And I want to watch the sunset again? I mean, not from a boat but, you are good at finding places for us to visit.” You push your shoulder against him lightly. “Maybe you can find another place for us?”

“Sure.”

“And watch the sunrise. God, can you imagine what must it be to watch the sunrise here?”

“You are completely smitten with this place, aren’t you?” Jinyoung chuckles.

“Aren’t you?”

He smiles at you, and you feel something aching inside your chest. “The resort offers this tour for watching the sunrise at the top of a mountain, but it involves hiking while it is still dark.”

“Hard pass,” you cringe, shaking your head. “We can just wake up one morning and watch it from the beach in front of the villa.”

Lightning clears the dark sky and the sound of thunder that follows echoes all the way from the trees to your body. You bit your lips to avoid the trembling, and press your fingers in tight fists, trying to lose the numb feeling on your fingertips.

“You are shaking,” Jinyoung notices, pulling you to his chest. His hands move up and down your back. He feels surprisingly warm against you.

“You’re a furnace,” you murmur, letting your face fall on the curve of his neck, trying to get as much heat from him and you can.

He lets an arm around you, the other hand closing around your wrists, lifting your fingers to his lips. He blows warm air against it before taking it to his neck, placing his hand over yours.

For a moment you forget that you are in a distant place that only gets darker and darker and that it might be hard to find the way back to the car. You ignore the fact that the storm is ceasing, and the wind is not hitting as cold. And you really don’t want to think about how you are practically sitting on your best friend’s lap, with him pressing you against him. You only want to feel his warm, and how comfortable it feels having his palm rubbing up and down your back. And how your hand seemed to find its way to the back of his head, and how soft it feels to slide your fingers on his hair.

And then it hits you. You become aware of it all at once and open your eyes as if you had just awakened from the most astonishingly strange dream. You lean back, as much as the arm around you allows. If you lean forward again you can kiss him, and the thought alone leaves you breathless.

But this is Jinyoung. This is your best friend. You shouldn’t be thinking of kissing him. Yet, your mind doesn’t know anything other than the shape of your lips.

Jinyoung’s eyes are dark as he stares at you. They tell you absolutely nothing. But he is not moving. His arm is still around you, and his lips part slowly. His chest raises and when you think he is about to do something, everything around you turns bright.

The light inside the gazebo flickers twice before steading. You close your eyes again and open them slightly, adjusting to the light. You feel cold again when Jinyoung releases you completely, and when you look up, you see a man standing at the entrance, holding a giant umbrella.

“You guys okay?” the security guard asks, and you notice he is holding a flashlight. The energy might just get cut off at any moment again.

“Yes, we were just waiting for the storm to stop,” Jinyoung says, waving at him, getting up.

“The gardens are closing for today,” the guard informs, sounding impatient. “I will walk you two to the entrance.”

---

It’s still cold inside the car. You are still hugging your own arms, head clouded, and fuzzy. It takes a moment to realize that Jinyoung is studying you. Worrying you were still shaking without realizing you smile weakly and say, “I’m still cold.”

Jinyoung turns the car on and then the heater, hot air being blown at you. “It won’t help much if we continue with wet clothes.” He says, looking over his shoulder before reaching for the bags on the backseat, pulling one of the shawls you’ve e bought earlier. He offers you the fabric and your eyes travel from the fabric to his expectant gaze. “What?”

“Look the other way!”

“I’ve been seeing you in bikinis for the past days, Y/N.” Jinyoung shakes his head but stretches the shawl in front of him. “It’s not like it would be any different.”

Except yes, it is different. Your swimsuits do a great job of covering your breasts completely while the bra you are wearing is mostly lace and doesn’t leave that much to the imagination.

You take off your shirt and drop it close to your feet. You wish you could dry your body but there’s not much you can do other than take the fabric and cover your upper body with it. Jinyoung has still your head turned to the other side, just in case, and you don’t miss the opportunity to tease. “You shouldn’t be paying attention to my bikinis.”

“It’s hard not to,” his voice sounds huskier than you expected – even though you are not sure what you expected - and you feel a flip on your stomach.

You make sure you are completely covered before speaking again, “I’m decent.”

Jinyoung glances at you for a moment, and then get rids of his button-up shirt. The black tank top he had underneath doesn’t even look damp and he ruffles his hair a couple of times before driving away.

“There’s another one of this,” you tell him, shaking your shawl.

“I’m good,” Jinyoung keeps his focus on the road, driving fast but not fast enough to make you worry. Your focus, on the other hand, on his naked arms and shoulders, the collarbones you can see partially. You try to think about when, in all those years, Jinyoung became so bulky, but can’t pinpoint a date. Sure, you both had changed over there years, but it’s like you only noticed Jinyoung’s physic on this trip. And since he insists on keeping his shirt on, this is the first time you are really seeing him. And you just can’t stop letting your eyes travel the length on his arm, the big hands closed around the steering wheel, then back again to his arm, chest, flat stomach.

Jinyoung glances at you before his attention is on the road again. “You are staring.”

“It’s hard not to,” you snicker. “I told you, you were gonna get a funny sunburn.”

Jinyoung looks down at his shoulder, visibly paler than the rest of his arm and shrug. “I have no intention of walking around shirtless.”

Pity, you think of saying but bite your tongue. You spend the rest of the drive back to the villa focusing on everything other than the feeling of Jinyoung’s arms around you, or how his scent put you in the best wave of dizziness. How the shawl around you doesn’t feel as warm and it felt to have bits of his skin against yours.

And you really don’t want to think about how dangerous it feels to want more of him.

#Jinyoung #park jinyoung #got7 #got7 jinyoung #jinyoung fluff #jinyoung scenarios #got7 fluff #got7 scenarios #kpop scenarios #friends to lovers au

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josy57 · 5 years ago

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Philosophy 101

You asked me why I wanted to attend your class. Again. To sit in the back row, silent and watchful The proverbial fly on the wall Only half-welcomed and sourly out of place

I said it was interesting, full of things that could be transferred Transferred yes, but not to what I was implying I have no professional use for my careful observation I am feeding a more private need So, having no plans to lie I added what you must have taken as mere flattery That it was also for my pleasure -The ever-fleeting pleasure of nostalgia Always a receding wave- You nodded, but I don't think you fully understood And I of course couldn't fully explain I loved your class, with all my heart, with all my aching brain As a child, I used to writhe and wrestle with my sheets With my thoughts too I couldn't sleep, so I debated the great questions As though I was the first to ever think of them Why do we use the words we do? Why do certain sounds signify, While others are only noise? Who are we to decide, to categorize, to dissect? And why are we even here? For how long? And since we do die, why does it matter? Does anything matter? And why all those questions? Can one ever reach certainty? Or is this world only quicksand and moving goalposts?

This place, this room, This air filled with your booming voice, your constant pacing That's where I found, not answers, but echoes to all my questioning Where I knew it was not insane to wonder Where I could voice it Argue, point, prod Feel for the nodes and knots of human experience Do all that and hear someone who cared too, Who would engage with those concepts, each wide as a precipice And so thorny it stung on all sides

I found some piece of myself here, I put it together And it's been useful ever since But I've also left something behind Something like youth, or innocence Some years when I was afforded the luxury Of sitting and listening to you for nine hours a week Just pouring knowledge and effort on us all Whether or not we deserved it I hope I did. I tried very hard to I was only one of the many mayflies You nurse for a while and let go, year after year, Usually never to hear from again But I never wanted you to feel I was a waste of your time A disappointment What it is like, looking at me now? Am I not less than what you had wished for? Or are you proud? Comforted that one of your frail paper boats Made it back to your shore Not across to some new territory But safely back on dryland Not wrecked nor wayward, at least from the outside

Perhaps that's what I miss That someone would look at me with pride That someone would talk to me about all those things So deeply important to me So seemingly weightless in our modern lives You spoke and you listened, you valued what I had to say That made a difference in my life More than I could ever express Because that's not a thing people do, right? Not even in philosophy We speak of love and attachment and identity But one must never say “I”

Today the subject was truth and knowledge And while you promised to soon tackle desire I scanned the backs of all those bored faces Do they not know, do they not feel, How vital it all is? Beyond the formal exercise, the pages of clumsy essays, How burning those questions are? "Am I what I am aware of being?" "Does awareness impede or lead to happiness?" "Can any person ever be fully known?"

He alone loved this place as I do Felt its soul settle into his bones Like the dampness seeping from the walls And he too, I know, wondered, questioned, struggled Ached for more than surface can offer Him. That’s another thing you don’t know about me Another thing that even in philosophy, you can’t quite discuss Though it permeated all the pages of my old copybooks Darker and messier than a spilled inkpot Especially at certain points When Plato spoke of humans cut in halves Lost and searching When Stendhal said that desire strews all things with salt crystals I, for one, have certainly jeweled my late adolescence Candied it in a melancholy glaze

Still, my memory is not so short that I have forgotten The thousand little hells, the many small agonies of this age But I do envy it I remember when the world still had a sharp edge When it hurt in earnest, instead of pressing dully, as it does now Piling stones upon stones on my chest Back then, I had hope my life would begin soon There was still time Now I only wonder: Is it really all that comes of potential, of effort -Of all those words grown-ups lecture you with-? I played their games and reaped meager rewards A ticket for another trip round the revolving door This time looking through a thick pane of glass Lingering on the threshold of two phases Both of which I am ill-equipped for

I’ve always had an uneasy concept of chronology My internal clock spinning like a broken compass First too stern, too mature for my years And then, suddenly, unripe and lagging Then and now. It all bleeds into one here. So it is safe, this in-between, this hour out of the hourglass A gasp of air, a break in the slow drowning The constant march towards the void For that’s what it comes down to The passing of time and our human perception of it An enigma that no numbers game can settle

Nowadays, I don’t just peek over my shoulders anymore I walk through this gilded cage holding the keys of the castle I open and close doors, I stand on the wrong side of the dais Of what once was my kingdom Not one I ruled but one I belonged in I was more than a trespasser then I existed in a certain time and place This 'dasein" escapes me now As it escaped me in childhood Then too, I watched the world through a tainted window I was never fully real but for those two years or so That’s why I have no good answer: I came here today in a vain attempt Even in those halls, in this class I can't recapture it I only glance at your present students With the sourness of heartburn like a fist under my ribs

I can't help but look at them haughtily, thinking: "This is not what we were At least not him and I" I bite my tongue, not wanting to say what I feel That ours was a golden age One they could never reproduce, never fully understand Because, of course, it's false, it's myopic This bright mist has settled on my eyes The same milky film that blurs old folks' sight "Back in my days..." As if those days were ever ours You see, Kant was right about one thing, None of us lives in the real world Like tiny planets, prideful little gods We view the whole of existence as revolving around us Dimming as we lose light Dying once we die The truth is 'our' world survives our passing We visit it only as ghosts.

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thelastspeecher · 5 years ago

Note

if you're taking halloween prompts, maybe Stan and the gucks dealing with the headless horseman coming to the guck farm?

I tapped into my Irish folklore knowledge and did my best to make a kinda spooky story. Hopefully, I pulled it off moderately successfully!

(Oh, also, this ficlet takes place immediately following the last ficlet I posted, of Stangie going trick-or-treating.)

——————————————————————————————

Stan parked his car outside the McGucket farmhouse. He grinned at Angie.

“Damn, we got a huge haul,” he said. Holding the buckets filled with candy, Angie grinned back.

“We sure did!”

“Time to go eat so much we make ourselves sick.”

“Yeah! Wait, what?”

“I’m jokin’, Angie, don’t worry.” Stan turned the car off and took his bucket from Angie. “C’mon.” The two got out of the car. Stan heard rustling. In his peripheral vision, he could see movement. He tossed the bucket back into the car and rushed over to stand protectively in front of Angie. A figure emerged from the bushes.

“What in the-” Angie started.

“Back away, Angie,” Stan hissed. He and Angie backed away slowly. The figure followed, only to split away from them just as they reached the porch. Stan watched as the figure headed for a horse tied to one of the porch rails. Angie suddenly gripped Stan’s arms tight enough that he had to bite back a yelp of pain.

“Stan!” Angie whispered, terrified. “That feller don’t have no head!”

“Yer seein’ things,” Stan said back. He looked more closely. His blood ran cold. Angie was right. The figure looked exactly like a man, but a man missing his head. The front door opened behind them.

“Kids, inside!” Pa McGucket roughly dragged Stan and Angie in, then closed the door and locked it. “Sally, the salt.”

“On it, dear.” Ma McGucket gently nudged Stan and Angie away from the door. She laid a line of salt across the threshold. “I can check the other points of entry.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Pa McGucket said. Ma McGucket left. Pa McGucket looked Stan and Angie over, relief on his face. “I’m so glad yer safe.”

“Uh, yeah, we- we are,” Angie squeaked.

“What’s the deal with No-Head McGee out there?” Stan asked, jutting his thumb in the direction of said headless man. Pa McGucket sighed.

“He’s one of the Fair Folk,” he answered. Angie’s eyes widened. Stan frowned.

“The what?”

“Oh, that’s right. You wouldn’t know much ‘bout the Fair Folk, would ya?” Pa McGucket mumbled to himself. “Well, come on into the livin’ room. We’ll have a chat.” Stan and Angie followed Pa McGucket into the living room. Pa McGucket sat in his favorite armchair, while Stan and Angie sat on the couch.

“All right, explain,” Stan said. Pa McGucket raised an eyebrow at him. “…Please.”

“The Fair Folk have been called many things. They can be found in just ‘bout every place in the world, so’s each culture had their own name fer ‘em. The one yer prob’ly most familiar with would be ‘fairy’.”

“Fairy? That ghost-looking thing was not a fairy,” Stan interjected. Pa McGucket sighed.

“The real Fair Folk are a far cry from the pop’lar representation of a lil lady in a sparkly dress and wings. ‘Course, my fam’ly never called ‘em that. We called ‘em the Fair Folk, or, on occasion, used the name they gave themselves, the aes sidhe, or just the sidhe fer short.”

“She?” Stan said, testing out the word. Pa McGucket nodded. “That doesn’t sound English.”

“It ain’t. It’s Irish. That’s where my fam’ly came from.”

“I kinda figured.”

“I had a feelin’ ya had figured that out on yer own,” Pa McGucket said, a twinkle in his eye. “Yer quite the clever fella.” He cleared his throat. “As I was sayin’, the Fair Folk ain’t the fairy you’d see in a cartoon. They’re mysterious, magical folk who manipulate perceptions of the world, an ability referred to as glamour. They live in the hills of the old country, in a world that runs parallel to ours. If ya wish to visit ‘em, ya need to go ‘sideways’. At least, according to tradition.”

“Uh…okay,” Stan said after a moment. Angie leaned forward.

“Pa?”

“Yes, Junebug?”

“Is the feller outside Seelie or Unseelie?” she asked. Pa McGucket smiled.

“I’m so glad to hear that yer pa’s old stories stuck in yer brilliant lil mind.”

“Pa!” Angie whined. Pa McGucket chuckled.

“The Headless Horseman ain’t aligned with either Court.” Pa McGucket turned to Stan. “Broadly speakin’, the Fair Folk tend to belong to either the Seelie Court or the Unseelie Court. ‘Course, there are those, like the feller outside, who opt out of the system.”

“Let me guess,” Stan said slowly. “Seelie is good and Unseelie is bad?” Pa McGucket leaned back in his chair.

“Not quite. It ain’t wise to use such human terminology to refer to bein’s what are so far from human. Their minds don’t work like ours, so their morals don’t, neither. The Seelie Court is the kinder of the two, yes. They won’t attack unless ya offend.”

“That’s nice of them,” Stan muttered.

“Eh. The Fair Folk have very specific etiquette to follow, and it’s very easy to accidentally offend. So even if yer in the presence of a Seelie, yer not out of the woods. The Unseelie Court, they thrive on pain and suffering and chaos.”

“So, stay away from Unseelie.”

“Stay away from all Fair Folk,” Angie said firmly. Pa McGucket nodded. “Some are kinder than others, but they…” Angie scratched her cheek. “They ain’t human. They don’t think like we do, they don’t understand us, we don’t understand ‘em. Seelie are better, yes, but ya never want to be in the company of the Folk unless yer in complete control of the sit’ation.”

“Exactly,” Pa McGucket said. “There are Fair Folk on our property that we have communicated with before, and each time, we determine when and where, and protect ourselves against their glamour.”

“Wait, what?” Angie asked. “Pa, you’ve seen the Fair Folk before?”

“Of course, dearie. Grandmama and Grandpapa set up our current arrangement with ‘em back when they settled here. And the Headless Horseman tends to drop by on Samhain.”

“There are so many new words,” Stan groaned, putting his head in his hands. “I feel like I’m in school.”

“I’ve never seen him ‘fore,” Angie said, ignoring Stan.

“You’ve never been up late enough to see him ‘fore,” Pa McGucket said.

“The Fair Folk never go sideways to our world unless they have a reason.”

“Sweetie, they don’t need a reason on Samhain. It’s as much their celebration as it is ours.”

“Fine, I’ll bite,” Stan said. He lifted his head. “What is Saw-win?”

“Samhain is an ancient Irish festival to signal the end of harvest and comin’ of winter. Tradition holds that it is when boundaries between worlds are the thinnest.” Pa McGucket shrugged. “Don’t know how true that is, but it’s what they say. And it’s when the Headless Horseman shows up, so.” Pa McGucket looked in the direction of the front door. “I’m glad that this Headless Horseman appears to be dif’rent to the kind Grandmama and Grandpapa told stories ‘bout.”

“How so?”

“He’s never killed anyone by sayin’ their name, fer one thing,” Pa McGucket said dryly. Stan’s mouth went dry.

“How long does he stay before leavin’?” Angie asked. Pa McGucket shrugged.

“Depends. It could be a while though, you should start gettin’ ready fer bed. It’s late.”

“I don’t think I can sleep knowin’ he’s out there,” Angie said softly. Stan nodded in agreement.

“I’m not easily scared, but that guy doesn’t have a head.”

“Don’t worry, he can’t get in here. Not with the precautions we’ve got: holy water, blessed iron, salt, the whole nine yards.” Stan and Angie stared at him silently. “I can go check if he’s gone, though.” Pa McGucket got up from his chair and headed for the front door. After a few moments, he called back to them. “Yep. He’s gone. Come see fer yourselves if you’d like.” Stan and Angie headed for the door as well, Angie lagging slightly behind Stan.

When they got to the front door, Pa McGucket had it wide open. He stood on the porch, surveying the yard with his hands on his hips.

“See? No Folk here,” Pa McGucket said cheerfully. Stan stared. No one was there. In fact, he was beginning to doubt he’d seen the Headless Horseman in the first place.

“They usually leave behind a sign of some sort,” Angie said, brushing past him. She made a beeline for where the Horseman’s horse had been tied to. She crouched down, inspecting the soil. Her eyes widened. “Stan, come here.” Reluctantly, Stan joined her. His blood ran cold, just as it had when he first saw the Horseman.

In the otherwise undisturbed dirt, there was a set of fresh hoofprints.

#this was fun to write! I don't try to write spooky very often lol #and TECHNICALLY I'm still posting it on Halloween! it's just...v close #Stanley McGucket AU #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Pa McGucket #my writing #my stuff #ficlet #ask #nour386

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katthekitkatlord · 4 years ago

Text

Angel

Warning: Graphic depictions of death and canon violence associated with the witcher.

Info: Just a little something I wanted to write up for my witcher oc Angel. It is not the best and kind of drops off for an ending. But it’s just a little background of him. A peak inside his brain. Thank you to any and all that read!!

Word count: 1575

The room always smelled of piss, shit, and blood after the trials and the ones to clean it are the poor boys who survived. The older, colder witchers said it was a good way to break in their new senses. A good way to expose them to the senses and smells that will stain their new life and stay with them forever. But if you asked any of those boys, they would call it cruel torture.

Angel thought so at least. He had gone through the trials at ten years old. He was a wiry thing. Arms and legs too long for his body. So thin many thought he would blow away. They tried to fatten him up. Put muscle on his bones. Something more than what he already had. But his time was coming and soon he will have to lay down on that table like so many before him.

Time came and the running consensus was, “Angel’s gonna die”. Even the old witcher who over saw each procedure felt a pang of guilt run through his chest seeing Angel laying on that table. Angel should not have ever made it. He should have been turned down. The damned witcher that bought him should have gone with a mule.

To everyone’s surprise Angel lived. The boy was weak, tired. But he will make it after a week or so in the medical ward.

He should have died. He should have never walked out of that room. But part of him did die and from the ashes a fire was born.

While laying on that table as his body tore apart and broke down into mush as molten iron like chemicals blew apart his veins and melted his insides, the one thing he can remember thinking behind all the pain was wanting to hold someone’s hand. To have someone hold his hand, whisper something to him. Anything to distract from the pain, but most of all, Angel thought he was going to die and all he wanted in his last seconds of life was a soft voice and kind hand. Was he childish to think this way? Wishful thinking of a boy who thought he was going to die? Depends on who ask.

Many nights Angel laid awake with silent tears staining his face as he thought of all the boys who passed away where he laid on that table. It hurt him, this knowledge. Angel did always have a bleeding heart he wore proudly on his shoulder. Many would try and cut him down because of this. Find a way to use it against him. But every time, no matter how hard he sobbed and snotted on himself in the training fields, the boy always got back up and came at every opponent, obstacle, with all he had.

When the medallion trail came around, their last big test before they all were recognized as young watchers, Angel’s skin had toughened up. He was able to better preform and keep his crying eyes at bay. Didn’t do nothing to resolve him of his title on the field, cry baby and there was no hiding the fact that many expected Angel to die during the last trial. Expected him to choke. To lag and be left behind. A sacrifice to slow down any monsters waiting for them.

Angel cursed the names of every damned witcher who came to his mind as he ran the trial and cursed the names of the boys who ran it like it was some easter egg race. The whole point was to survive it. There was no first-place trophy.

Angel didn’t try to keep up with the others. He took his time climbing over the cliff face. Swimming through the river. Crossing through tree tops so not to wake any sleeping monsters. He kept his head down and relied on his lithe frame and liquid cat like reflexes to carry him through. They had no weapons during this trial except for the one found along the way that where most likely already picked up by the faster boys. Angel didn’t allow himself to dwell on it. He could do this. Just had to play his own strengths.

Angel will be tested to the max when he catches the faint sounds of crying. The choked sops behind a hand, an all too familiar sound followed by sniffling. Angel is left frozen in place. He knows it could be a trap. Some monster smart enough to mimic a boy’s cries, a humans voice. He can hear his teachers voice ringing through his ears telling him to save his own skin. Run and always assume it’s a trap. To bury his heart. But Angel couldn’t do it.

Climbing down from the safety of the treetops, Angel follows the sound. His guard up and legs ready to run at any sign of monster. His heart stops when he sees a boy. A flesh and blood boy curled under the base of a tree sobbing as silently as he could.

“Hello?” Angel speaks, voice meek and soft like a whisper so light the wind can carry it away. The boy reacts and jumps to the sound of Angel’s voice. His back now firmly pressed into the tree as he holds a stick out to Angel.

Angel trains his fresh golden eyes on the boy and shows him his hands.

“I’m real. I won’t hurt you.” Angel promises and steps more into the boy’s view.

“Angel?” The boys voice cracked. “How are you not dead?” He asks while wiping away tears and fighting to stand up. He was lithe and thin like Angle. Maybe a year or two younger but taller.

“Treetops.” Angel answers looking up. “Makes for slow moving, but nothing up there to eat you up.”

“I didn’t think of that.” The boy cleans his face as best he can and looks around awkward.

“Here”, Angel offers the boy a hand, “let us get out of here. We’ll complete this together.”

The boy takes Angels hand and together they work their way through the course. It’s not easy for the both of them. Especially not after finding more than one boy dead. Only thing going for Angel was his will to live. He had to prove his teachers wrong. Had to prove to the school he was worth his salt. He knew if he could just survive this trial, things will start looking up.

More than halfway through the course, the boys luck sours on them in the form of a marsh. It’s the last difficult stretch of dodging monsters and surviving till they earn their medallion. Neither boy saw it coming. To focused on running as fast as they could, they never saw the drowners. Only after the beast have jumped out of the water does Angle look around and gasps at the sight. Bodies old and new wrapped in marshy muck, blood staining the mud here and there, footsteps human and inhuman. They should have seen it. But like the drowned boys, they where so focused on getting out, they ran straight to their demise.

Angel tries to use igni, his flame small and weak like he is, but it works. The drowners know what fire means and jumps away. They fear the flame and Angel uses this to his advantage.

“Come on! Use igni! They are afraid of igni!” Angel calls, growling at a drowner that tries to leap at him.

The boy stays close to Angel. He is nearly crawling under his skin he is so close. Angel tells him to use Igni but the boy freezes and clams up.

He’s too young, Angel thinks. He should have waited one or two more years.

“Come on! Try! Think about what the instructor said! Try!” Angel tries to coax the boy. It doesn’t help.

Everything happened so fast after that. Angel had no control.

The boy will never make it, and Agnel will never forget the boys screams as he was dragged into the water.

Angel was the last boy to arrive for his medallion, no one waiting for him at the finish line. He is one of the five to survive out of ten. A miracle for even the instructors thought him dead. Everyone reacted as though he were a ghost when he came walking through the large double doors into the mess hall. All the older witchers dropping their cups and jaws to the floor. Angel’s peers doing the same.

The entire time Angel remained silent. Not a sound left his tiny body as the medallion was placed around his neck. Feeling as if it weighed more than the world and making his tiny shoulders slump.

“Congratulations.” The old witcher hums as he steps away and suddenly all eyes are on Angel as a symphony of whispers fill the room.

Angel cannot stand to be among them, so he runs away seeking the quiet comfort of his bed. Only then does he realize how wet his cheeks are. He figures the tears began to fall after he ran away, but knew it was possibly sooner. Would not have been the first time he cried in front of the entire school.

Years later, Angel still finds himself gazing down at the snarling bear maw made of silver. He stares at the bear with anger, sadness, respect, and adoration. His emotions a confusing mixture that seemed to have no start or end.

#witcher #the witcher #bear school #school of the bear #bear #bear Angel #bear!Angel #my oc Angel #witcher oc #fan oc #My character #angel

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sugarcookiesandsins · 5 years ago

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Charmed [Episode 1]

➰ ot7 x reader, poly!bts x reader, mafia!bts ➰ they wouldn't notice her until she was standing above them, a smoking gun in her hand a bullet in their heart 🌡 M 🛑 heavy violence 🕛 6.1k+

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Tags: Since this is a revamping of the series, I am using a new tag list. If you were on it before, please message me so I can add you back. To those on the list, thank you for taking the time to read this.

@omgsuperstarg @missseoulite

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Reflected in your eyes were the lights of the boat as you stood next to the railing, air fogging as you breathed out courtesy of the temperature difference between you and your surroundings. The ripples had long disappeared beneath you as the body sank farther into the depths of international waters. Twenty miles or so from the nearest land, surrounded by the inky depths of the sea, you felt oddly at peace with yourself than most would be. Before you, the sea extended with multitudes of opportunities, yet you held on to the metal pole, refusing to let go and fling yourself into its cold embrace. Overhead, past the tips of the sails with their heavy canvas, the sky extended in the same way; punctuated with lighthouses that never ceased to guide traveler to the shore.

This far out, much like the senses, even the jurisdiction became convoluted. It was the age-old argument of territory and even the final frontier, be it space that extend pat your reach or the depths that you could feel splashing against with every wave that the barge broke, could be subject to a baseless human need that no one seemed to be able to justify past material greed.

The body would not pop back out of the water for a at least 2 weeks and add on the time lags that always happen when multiple governments tried to make an important decision, you had more than enough time to hole up somewhere else on the planet as the buzz died down.

Without tearing your eyes away from the blurred horizon, your silently raised a hand towards the bow. The muffled yelling and the vibrations of the engine under your feet gave you the only answer you needed as the barge turned, headed in the direction of the nearest port. And yet you faced forward, watching the waters as they tried to fight against the metallic interruption only to succumb to the power of modern technology. Your figure remained still, clothed in black like a specter charged with guarding the ship. The waters closer to the coast were calmer, only breaking on the wooden stakes of the ports as they teased onlookers with millions of secrets buried under the cloak of time.

Your face remained impassive, even if no one could see it. The crew members had simply been instructed to ferry you out and ferry you back, a clean operation that would get them access to a very lucrative fishing spot. Environmental concerns had forced the government into restricting the fishing, but as a major export, it could not stop it all together with the amount of people employed in the business. So, they started dealing permits for who can fish where and for how much; it’s amazing to think that the government had indirectly created a new black-market sector when they were supposed to be the paragons of peace and leadership.

Your face was a mystery to these workers, and not one person there would be able to swear that they weren’t curious as to who you were. They had simply been told by their boss that they were scheduled for a late-night trip out into the ocean. There would be only one person boarding and only one person leaving. They were not to disturb their guest for any reason, nor were they supposed to inquire about the guest and his actions.

You trusted them to not risk their job for mere curiosity, but what you didn’t trust were the people with enough money to make their curiosity worth the risk. People are fickle like that and everyone can be influenced, if promised the right thing.

The mistake that most amateurs make is that they believe that if money is not strong enough to break a man, then their moral fortress is impregnable. Only the select few, which included you, realize that there is more to offer in life than just financial backing. To some, success is only thing worth anything in life, and that may be something not controlled by the number in your checkbook. It’s surprising how much support you receive when a political candidate finds themselves short one particularly threatening opponent.

Letting out a wry smile, you think about the past that brought you here to this moment. Not the millions of coincidental events of the universe - though that certainly plays a part in it all. It was a single night that became the catalyst for everything you are today. It was the night that BigHit targeted your family, all because of some idiot who didn’t have the balls to face the consequences of his mistake. Surprising how a member of the biggest sect of organized crime in all of South Korea still is chicken enough to pin the blame on someone who was considerably lower on the food chain than they were.

BigHit had been in part of your life since the start, having always employed your father as the legal head for the group. The front was a real estate firm, but it was one of those elephant-in-the-room types of situations; common knowledge, but ignored to maintain some semblance of normality. Heck, you were sure the entire city knew the truth that hid behind the white, blocky letters, but it was an unspoken rule that no one said anything. BigHit was untouchable, until 7 years ago and the paranoia that spread through the company cost your family greatly.

It had all started when some lower-level lackey noticed an inconsistency in the finances. There were conflicting spending reports between company-sponsored business trips and the withdrawal amounts. On multiple instances, one exceeded the other and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening. This was coincidence number one. The man wasn’t even supposed to be checking the finances, he was just filing something away for his boss when he knocked over the files. It was impossible to stop his roaming eyes as they scanned the information while cleaning it all up.

Immediately he made a beeline for the higher ups, who, after looking over it to make sure the worker’s suspicions were correct, passed it along the chain of command. Then the investigation began. Almost immediately, your father’s team came under suspicion. They had been involved in a financial report for a case, which had required multiple trips to the prosecutor’s office - an overseas prosecutor accusing BigHit of international grand theft. The case was more trouble than it was worth; everyone knew that BigHit wasn’t the type to commit petty theft. They had too much leverage to work as snakes under the cloak of darkness.

A full search tore the building off its foundation, until the money was found in your father’s private office. They didn’t bother to look for evidence any longer.

1. The doorknob was scratched.

2. There was dust on the surface.

3. There was coffee on the table.

4. The money was in plain sight.

5. They came in the night.

6. There was a girl in the closet.

7. She survived.

8. They didn’t.

Ticking off each point after the next, you calmed your racing heart. It was the same feeling that accompanied the flashbacks of blood. From within the closet, you watched from under the door, mouth clenched around the soft baby fat of your arm, the only thing that kept you from screaming into the open air. Using your calloused palm, you rubbed at the scars, now slightly faded with treatment from time.

You would pay them back for every injustice. You felt closer than ever to feeling their blood running down your blade, swimming in the dents of your skin, and molding with it as you showed them the same mercy they showed your parents. You could still hear their voices, sloppy words mixed with tears as they begged for mercy. Still they tried, with their last breath they still held onto the belief that the guns would be put away.

The last thing you heard before the gun shots were two words. They were filled with such malice, as you had never heard in a voice before.

You knew who said them too. After all, it was hard not to recognize BTS; BigHit’s personal dirty-work squad.

And with that, their fate was sealed. You were closer than ever to feeling their blood running down the blade of your dagger, swimming in the dents of your bones, and molding with your skin as you showed them the same mercy that they showed your parents.

Waiting until the boat was tied to the docks, and all crew members had left - another insurance policy for your identity - you alighted from the boat. Running the pad of your finger along your right wrist you stopped, feeling a gap in the silver chain that enclosed the joint. The last gap of the last bracelet - on it would go a small replica of the flag of Burma. With it, all the spaces were filled.

As it reflected the yellow light of the streetlamp, each charm shimmered with beauty. Looking at each on in turn you remembered. You saw the tears in the eyes of the woman as she choked on the same poison she had used on her sister. You heard the screams of the rich man who had abused his family as karma came back for him tenfold. You smelled the pungent stench of sex as the rapist lived through the pain he had given little girls. You tasted the salt in the air as an avid sailor met his end at the hands of sharks, forever a corrupt official. Under the lamplight, you reminisced. With the completion of another set came the inevitable question.

What now?

If it was in your hands, you would be headed to Seoul on the next flight out, far too ready to leave this life behind, but unwilling to do so until your goal was fulfilled. Sadly, it wasn’t up to you.

It was in the hands of your boss, your self-appointed instructor and ringleader. It was he who had found you in the park living off of stolen pastries and money. It was he who had developed your natural affinity for crime and theft and who controlled who you would find at the end of your gun on any given day.

A cool breeze blew in from over the ocean, sending chills down your spine like someone was playing a sonata on your nerve strings. Far too ready to leave the country, you move out from under the lamplight, letting the black of your jacket hide you from the ignorant world around you.

Within the surrounding houses there were people, innocent people, unaware of what goes on beyond their sphere of influence, unaware that you had them all in yours. It was a macabre thing to be thinking about, but even the most painful truths cannot be denied. There was nothing stopping you from scaling into their bedroom like a phantom, a conjuring of their worst dreams. Just as there was nothing stopping you from following the body into the ocean’s cold embrace. With nothing holding you back, you wondered why you never took the plunge before.

Walking for the better part of the hour brought you to the last place any respectable wanted to be seen. Having long since been abandoned by the previous owners, the building seemed ready to collapse at any moment. Deep cracks in the cement foundation would scare even the most confident from stepping inside.

Still, you ignored all that and strolled in, much more concerned with getting into the comfort of your bed. Crawling through the small window - the door had been blocked by a pile of rubble -, the sight of your things brought some relief to you. Nothing had been disturbed; everything you were was still a secret to the rest of the world.

Up the steps, ignoring the soft dust that flowed up around your boots, you made a beeline for your bed. Barely, just barely, noticing the dark-haired man who was making himself quite at home on the tattered grey couch.

Sending a small nod his way, you took off the face mask and prosthetics that helped protect your identity. It was an extra lesson that you had taught yourself and perfected with time. Within 15 minutes, it was possible for you to look like a completely different person with a fabricated personality

The greatest of your tricks were the ones when you introduced targets to your masks independently of each other and played them for the better part of the month. They would treat each differently, a good tell as to a target’s preferences. Then the prank would collapse because as much as you loved the amusement, there was the proverbial counting down until it came time for you to finish the job.

After cleaning your face of the prosthetic glue, you walked towards your teacher, delicately wiping down you face and neck of any stray water droplets. He remained impassive throughout the entire process, having grown used to your one-sided mindset. Letting your legs collapse, you maneuvered your body into a half-sitting and half-lounging position on the couch. Grunting, you told him to speak, feeling you brain already beginning to shut down from exhaustion. The work and the walk home had tired you out, especially considering it was in the early hours of the morning.

“Done?” It was a simple question, but it carried heavy weight behind it. ‘Done’ was not just the referring to the firing gun, it included everything from prep to disposal and aftercare for your supplies, all of which you had painstakingly accomplished before you set out to the docks with the black garbage bag, weighed down with both a human body and stones.

“What does it look like?” Your temper was running short at 2 in the morning and there was no force strong enough that could make you behave when you were this sleep deprived.

“Hmm.” See, the thing about your boss was that holding a conversation with him was mostly about reading between the lines. He was never blunt with his words, instead foregoing lengthy exposition for psychic communication - messages delivered between tone and tongue.

Unclasping the hook, you tossed the silver bracelet towards him as proof. “How many more do I have to do before I’m ready?” He had said nearly 6 month ago when you got this chain that this would be the last one, but there was no knowing if he was telling the truth. After all, you were close to beheading him if he had told you something you didn’t want to hear.

Your master may have once been young and able, but time had taken its payment from his life as it would do to many others; he was now well into the older years and lacked his former ability. There was no doubting that fact that if the both of you went head to head, that you would win, yet you never did try to challenge him. Mostly out of respect, but also out of the knowledge that losing him would be like losing your parents again.

“If I said you’re not ready, what would you do?”

You glared at him. You were tired of hearing those words. It seemed that throughout your life you were never ready. You weren't ready when those men came and took away your family. You weren’t ready when you found yourself in the cold, only getting by with scraps and pity for random passersby. You were never ready it would seem.

But at this point you were too tired to argue, and much too accepting of the supernatural ability your teacher had for telling the future; if he said you weren’t ready then you weren’t. Even then, there was something about the question that seemed more examinatory than before. Perhaps it was the level-headed stare he pinned you with, eyebrow bent with curiosity at your answer that clued you in to his intentions.

“I would accept the next assignment.”

“Hmm.” You swore you saw through his eyes and witnessed the cogs turning in his brain. “And if I said that you were ready?”

“I would start preparing. There is a lot to be trained for and many details to sift through.”

“Hmm.” That ‘hmm’ was the most infuriating thing of all.

“Well,” I asked.

“You’re ready.”

The following morning went by in a blur of motion. You were still tired from the lack of sleep you had suffered, but you didn’t need to really pay attention to this part anymore. The packing sequence so deeply engraved in your nerves that you never paused to doubt yourself when you stepped out the door 2 hours later.

In way, it was a morbid testament to how much this life has become part of who you are. It was difficult to imagine what your life would have been like had BigHit not betrayed your father’s trust that night. If they had just stopped being impulsive and took the time to think; say what you want about organized crime, it was built on the laws of the jungle and a seed of doubt grows and festers. Your father never stood a chance; he was dead the moment the man from his team decided to earn a little extra on the side.

You know this now. You know a lot of things now that you didn’t before.

And what you did know came from the one man who rarely spoke. After your master had approved the target at BigHit, he disappeared with the morning fog; never really knowing where he had been or where he went to with the sun peeking over the horizon. Still, you deduced that he must still be nearby, having discovered the manila packet filled with your travel details. First and foremost, was the passport declaring you to be of Korean nationality. It was easy enough to play off if you claimed you were born in said country. It also had inside the telltale colors of a Burmese visa. Running a finger over the perforated stamp, you wondered at the craftsmanship.

Forgery was a skill that you defined in very broad terms. It was an art form at its core; the most perverse kind, but still qualified enough to fit under the same category as the greats. The ability to mimic someone else, especially with the professed claim of the uniqueness of each person is a great feat; even if that ability was used for less than ideal means.

Your cover was simple enough. According to the information, you were a freelance photographer returning from an assignment in Burma. There were some pages depicting your ‘travel itinerary’, conveniently including the same port that last night’s ship had departed from. It also included some printed photographs of historic sites and monuments that you had supposedly visited and photographed.

After the passports and identification details, he had clipped together your golden key; plane tickets. They were for a flight at noon out of the nearest airport and one-way to Seoul. Averting your eyes from the rest of the content, you noted the time on the wall. Thankfully he had allowed you a little grace period before you had to leave for the airport.

Then finally at the end, were the documents that you were most interested in. Printed on crisp white paper were the profiles of the top team in BigHit. BTS was a paradox in many ways. Many people knew them, yet at the same time they were clueless. They seemed to be a small group but did the work of dozens. They were young but played games with the mind of a seasoned professional. They were like you.

The profiles were limited in how much they could provide in terms of personal biographies and most of what was contained in the test was collected from local sources and eyewitnesses that saw the youth before they were dragged behind closed doors to be trained by their fathers. The strength of this group lay in hereditary lineage. For multiple generations, the task had passed from father to son. This ensured that secrets of the trade remained just that - secrets.

You were sorely tempted to forget the flight and experimentally began thumbing the files, relishing the feeling of the way your revenge seemed closer than ever. But you needed to get to the airport and make your way through security. Thankfully most of your stuff would be checked in, and your backpack only contained the few necessities you carried from mission to mission. Steeling yourself for the weeks to come, you let out a silent wish to the heavens. You would see this through to the end; whether it ended with your corpse or theirs.

Casting a last glance around the room, you closed the door on the remaining supplies in the room. There was nothing much left, mostly wrappings from packagings but the biggest blow to your heart was the makeup you had to leave on the counters. The master always had professionals come and clean after you left. They were in charge of removing all your DNA from the place, this also included the makeup that you used for that mission.

Thankfully, he always arranged for new materials to be on site in the next place that you lived, but it pained you to have to recreate you three most iconic personalities from scratch each time.

Since dabbling in FX makeup for missions, you had probably portrayed no less than 50 personas, but there were a select three that you found yourself coming back to. The beauty was that they were so different, yet so generic that they became obsolete after a while in the memories of anyone who had come into contact with them.

The first, and your personal favorite, was Eli. He was a roughed up street rat with a penchant for making trouble and the aptitude to flirt with anyone he met, be it a man or a woman. He always got along well with the older women with his youthful, boyish charm. There was an art to his Casanova speech and his laid-back demeanor that seemed to draw eyes away from wallets and purses.

The second was an older woman of around the age of 28. Levi was a successful business woman with the kind of gait that made it seem as it she was on a mission. With her tight mini-skirts and heal the length of a dagger, everyone noticed when she walked in and when she walked out. Never a hair out of place, she was the weapon against older men or young aspiring businessmen attracted to a powerful woman. It also helped that she walked in and when she walked out. It also helped that she knew exactly how to move to gain an advantage.

The last, and simplest of them all, was a timid kitten. Adding a little fat to all areas of your body, you transformed into a girl who jumped at the sound of a book hitting the floor. Never looking men in the eye, Eve shuffled forward with the kind of steps that made you think she was 5 seconds from bolting in the other direction. She was the easiest to play - after all, she rarely spoke and was mostly there as the kind of character that would pass by unnoticed in a crowd.

With these three personas, as well as your own, you were set to take on whatever, or whoever came in your way. The decision of who to use at BigHit first was still up in the air, but you were pretty sure the decision would end up being Eli. Levi would get you too much unwanted attention and Eva just didn't match the image that BigHit wanted. Further still, Eli would be able to run through the underground circles with relative ease considering his aesthetic. Even without the arguments, you would still have chosen Eli. He was the favorite after all.

Continuing to make your way towards your gate, you only paused for a moment to buy a simple meal to tide you over until you landed in Korea. It was already too late in the day for breakfast, so you settled on some noodles at a corner shop in the airport. The stall was small and well hidden from prying eyes in the far corner of the terminal. Casting a small glance around, it also seemed to be in the blind spot of the small cameras dotting the ceiling of the building. Still, you had learned to never risk anything.

Thus you sat for the next half hour, slowly making your way through a bowl of noodle soup, payed for in cash, with your hood pulled as low as it could go. All in all, it wasn’t the best you’d ever had – Levi had been treated to many expensive restaurants – but it was enough for what was required of it. Resting your body at the table, your eyes couldn’t keep themselves from wandering to the other people in the airport. Each with the different façade. There were serious businessmen on phones, arguing about something or another as they raced towards sole destination – as there were in any airport. Yet, conversely there were also families on vacations, children leashed in one hand and bags held in the other, getting side-traced by the smallest trinket in the shops lining the walkways.

From between the murmurs around you, you could almost see a little girl running through legs towards the candy store. The naivety in her eyes shining bright as she continued on ceaselessly chattering about something in the way that only other children were able to understand. It was hurried and pitched, the prospect of a sweet more exciting than grammar. Following behind her came a man and woman, the women had your face while the man shared your eye and hair color. Hand linked, they laughed together at the little girl in the cotton dress, and you know that they would give into their daughter like they always did.

Yet before you could continue to watch them, they disappeared behind another stranger. Pushing the empty plate away, you held your head in your hands. The cool metal of the bracelet let refreshing wherever it contacted your warm skin. The need to catch up on sleep was real – the 5 hours you got after your master left not really working to fill the deficit your mission had caused – it was moment like this when you hated him for drilling a 7 am wake-up call into your circadian rhythm.

With a sharp ding, the screen announced that your flight had started boarding. Deciding that there was no putting it off, you made your way towards the glowing sign of your gate and followed the crowd of people until you made it to your seat. As always, it was an economy, nothing surprising about that.

Since entering the vicinity, you had mostly kept to yourself, which people tended to notice. You cut an imposing figure among the rest of the people scaring away those that might have initiated a conversation with you. Some took small glances at your figure, but non screamed that they were coming for your life, so you tended towards ignoring them. Even your row mates decided to keep to themselves, immediately losing themselves in the inflight entertainment that the airline provided. The only downside to your seat was that it would be even more difficult to read the files that your master had presented you with. Wandering eyes were common enough on airplanes and you were always in fear that it would be the wrong person catching a word or two of what you were reading.

Sinking back into the cushioned seats, you debated whether taking a short nap would prove beneficial in comparison to reading the profiles. In the end, your training kicked in and procrastination became a foreign word. Submitting to your conscience, you ordered a cup of black coffee and pulled out the files.

There really wasn’t anything new that you hadn’t already discovered in your independent investigation of the bangtan members. Since the moment that you could, you had been keeping tabs on the boys. After all, killing them would be the only way to take revenge. The BTS lineage would end with them, just as yours would end with you. The only thing of interest to you were their positions and newfound specialties. Eli was a very moldable character. There of course was a base aloofness that manages to charm even the most hardheaded folk, but specifics were the variables that you played with. In order to take down Bangtan, you would have to create the perfect character.

Mostly, he would remain the same as always, pickpocketing anything worth filching and maintaining that cherubic smile that one couldn’t tell if he really was absent-minded or he truly was too adept at acting. Skimming the profiles of the younger members, you noticed that one of them had a similar talent. Kim Taehyung, you had heard of him. He was one of the more public members and from what you had heard of him, he was very good with his hands. That’s not a problem. Eli would just have to be better than he was. It would be worth it to test Eli out on the streets for a couple days before starting the mission. The other holes would be carved out after an initial interaction; there should always be some room left for mistakes.

Last known sightings included a mall. That seemed odd, but then again, you supposed that even mafia needed new wardrobes occasionally. You wondered if your luck would be good enough to collide with them at the mall, but that would be secondary. First, you had to establish Eli in the underground society.

There were two way to go about it. The first option was just to commit one big heist and make a scene. Or you could just rise slowly, committing small pickpocketing jobs and become famous from the sheer number that you were able to accomplish.

Details would be hashed out later, but you were only two hours into the flight and the caffeine was wearing off. Deciding that your mental health mattered more now, you packed up the files and locked your backpack. Pulling out the provided blankets, you curled up to get some well-deserved shut eye.

Your dreams were mostly empty promises. Nothing but the vast darkness stretching before you, once filled with fantastical ideas but now painted in muted colors like even you subconscious was restricting you from true happiness. You knew what that happiness was; the end of the Bangtan lineage. Yet, it still sat poorly in your stomach. With soft mumbles, you fell deeper into the void, unable to fully comprehend exactly where you were going.

A couple hours of blissful sleep passed before the flight attendant with her manicured nails gently woke you up in order to inform you of your arrival in Seoul. In accordance with their regulation, you put away the provided sleeping materials and put your seat back into that position that was somehow perfect yet irritating for your spine.

Popping the piece of gum in your mouth, you closed your eyes in an attempt to withstand the pressure change as the airplane landed. You may be a trained operative, but your body never really cooperated with planes. Personally, you preferred the steady oscillation of a train or car, both of which were equally dangerous considering your tendency to fall asleep in them. Still, personal partially aside, planes were faster so the only thing you could do was grit your teeth and live through it. You chanted your mantra in your head, it was a constant reaffirmation of your goal and served to calm down with the familiar weight of the words in your mind.

1. The doorknob was scratched.

2. There was dust on the surface.

3. There was coffee on the table.

4. The money was in plain sight.

5. They came in the night.

6. There was a girl in the closet.

7. She survived.

8. They didn’t.

By the time you finished, the plane had touched down as was slowly making its way to a gate and you were a step closer to your final goal.

The feeling of being in Seoul was electric. The very air seemed to caress your hair, teasing and taunting you to speed up the timeline of your plan. It was a sore temptation to just throw your carefully constructed plan to the wind and waltz through the front door with machine guns and just extinguish the magazines, but that would be letting them off too easy. They deserved nothing less than the ultimate suffering, watching on as you pulled apart BigHit from under them, bit by bit, limb from limb.

Waving over a taxi, you climbed into the back and rattled off the address of the apartment that your master had bought for you. It was nothing crazy expensive, simplistic enough for a person receiving the pay that a college student would have. Small and compact with a single bedroom sectioned off from the main space, it rent was pretty low and it suited your need. Basic furnishings were missing, but that was expected for a person who had just moved into the area.

Deciding that it would be smarter to explore the area, you threw on more casual clothes after washing the stink of the airport off your body. Making your way into the sunlight you took a moment to absorb the feel of warmth the sun on your skin. This was your favorite moment - the post-mission bliss where the stress of the past was only a distant memory, at least for a while. Shoving your hands into your pockets you randomly choose a direction and began walking. Neither path seemed to hold anything special, so it really didn’t matter.

Your stroll was relaxing to say the least, the only tangent being when you stopped in a cafe to grab a snack and a cooling drink. Juice in hand, you continued to walk. The sky was just starting to show hints of the approaching night when you found yourself staring at the catalyst of your mission, Coex Mall. The building itself far surpassed any malls you had visited before and it seemed as if nothing was lacking as you entered and walk past clothing and cigarette stores.

As you walked, you wondered what BTS would come here for. They were known for being a secretive group so why they ever would step in such a crowded place in the middle of broad daylight was a mystery to all. They were a dangerous group, so it could not have been anything good, yet that still didn’t seem to stop stories circulating among women about their so-called ‘talents’.

Well, your feet had brought you here, so might as well get a headstart on making a mental layout of the mall. Sure, online maps worked to a degree, but there was no better cartographer than the one who walked every inch of the territory. Besides, it would also give you a chance to look at furniture shops. Your apartment was barren of even a mattress.

Stopping every so often, you finally made you way to the area of the store reserved for those lucky bastards who had more money than they knew what to do with. Many name brands showcased their wares proudly in diamond-proofed glass cases and behind burly security guards who glared openly at shoppers who looked as if they belonged anywhere but here.

You were one of the unfortunate victims with worn blue jeans and a comfortable sweater. Nothing about you screamed rich, but that didn’t matter to you. You knew what your bank account held, stocked with payments from jobs taken over the span of 4 years. Passing the first couple was easy, but the more guards that watched you with wary eyes, to more annoyed you became, but those thoughts all disappeared when you heard the whispers. They were hushed at first, singular words slipping past lips to make their way into your ears.

They were here.

No wait, not all of them. Only two.

But that was enough for you. Yes, you had previously discarded the thought of speeding up your plans, but since you were already scoping out the mall, why not scope out the targets while you were at it. Besides, you were never going to meet them with this face after today. The only person they would see would be the devilish smile of Eli, corners turned upwards with the knowledge that he knew more than anyone else in that room.

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seekingseven · 5 years ago

Text

The Most Sincere Kind of Lie (Ch1)

Chapter 1 of my Linked Universe fanfic, let’s see how this baby goes down! Also available to read here on AO3

┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┑

Hyrule's Hyrule did not feel like a Hyrule.

A calm, somber, empty wind threaded its way through the sky and forest and swamps, stirring up the stagnant dust lying on abandoned pathways and tugging curiously at the Links' clothing. The road they walked along was hard and flat, unfamiliar with the shifting anxiousness of wandering travelers and unwilling to leave any memory of their footprints behind. Streams mumbled and grumbled to the south, and the dark, seductive lullaby of the forest wafted in from the north. Hauntingly beautiful and terribly desolate was the only way to describe this place. Not even three hours of walking had yielded sight of a single other traveler aside from themselves.

Hyrule wasn't bothered by this, however. In fact, the traveler had an extra skip in his step and sparkle in his smile, excitedly weaving through the crowd of his incarnations and pointing out distant shadows of distant places with infectious enthusiasm. Infectious enthusiasm was the only proper term for it; Hyrule's amicable and eager attitude had contaminated everyone in the group. Sky hummed a lullaby as they walked along, bopping his head slowly as Wind thumped out the time signature on his chest. Four, Wild and Wars were all huddled around the traveler, trying to guess the names and places of things ahead of them while Hyrule laughed and occasionally applauded their efforts. Even Time and Twilight stared at the darkening sky and pointed out the timid pinpricks of light above, grinning like love-struck fools when Hyrule named each constellation and detailed the lore behind them.

On the other hand, Legend was very much bothered by their current situation. Even after hours of walking, he had no idea where Hyrule was taking them. He had no idea where, or even if, they were going to sleep tonight. Were they going to have dinner? Discuss a battle strategy or cover story for their ragtag group before they eventually ended up in some Nayru-forsaken town? Legend glared at the armor on Time's back. Of all people, Old Man should have had the presence of mind to lay out some semblance of a plan. But instead, he had an arm draped around Hyrule's shoulder and another on Twilight's, looking up at the stars as if they were the answer to all his most profound questions and desires. A smart bunch his incarnations were, Legend thought. They might as well run off the path at full speed and wait for wild monsters to tear them apart if everyone was going to be this idyllic and dopey. Yeah. Idiots. That's all they were. Legend brooded and nurtured his dissatisfaction with paternal meticulousness, almost enjoying the feeling of disgust blooming between his ribs. He thought of how much his feet hurt and how heavy his eyelids felt. What he would give for a good meal and a warm blanket and twenty seconds of reprieve from the noise and racket around him. His eyebrows slipped low over his face, his mouth twisted into its typical grimace, his movements slowed as he began to lag behind the rest of the group.

Goddesses above, he was so, so, so tired.

The silvery, boisterous sound of Sky's laughter shattered the silence Legend had grown extremely fond of over the last few minutes. The disgruntled hero stared up from his feet and stifled a groan as he processed the chaos in front of him. Wind was carrying Sky on his shoulders, swaying back and forth as the former's power bracelet twinkled crazily under the moonlight, and a piggyback race had been declared. Four had hoisted himself on Warriors' back without a second thought, and the two were off, sprinting down a path they weren't familiar with, and towards a horizon they'd never met. A brilliant thing to do in a foreign Hyrule, Legend thought bitterly. At least Time, Twilight, Wild, and Hyrule had some semblance of dignity about them. Oh, scratch that, the insane cook had stripped down to what he called his Sheikah Speedos (whatever on Farore's good green earth that meant) and was now sitting atop Twilight's shoulders. Legend hoped for a split second that Twilight would be level-minded enough to dissuade his protégé from such a reckless pastime. The aforementioned hope melted in the air when the pair shrieked a stream of sacrilegious boasts and sprinted after Wind and Warriors' retreating forms. Hyrule, who was still leading the whole group -- even though they were in his Hyrule, Legend had a sneaking feeling that this was a bad idea -- tossed his shield underneath his feet and quite literally sledded down the path. Legend sighed dramatically. Apparently, Wild's wasteful hobby had tainted even him.

Idiots, the lot of them.

Humid fog skittered over from a nearby river and settled onto Legend's lashes and cheeks. He blinked slowly and yawned again. The arsenal on his back pulled him downwards, and Legend made no motion to resist, relishing the feeling of slack muscles and half-closed eyes and hair flopping in front of his face. He didn't notice how far forward he was slumped until his hands dragged across the floor and scratched the rough skin of his knuckles. Legend glared furiously at the dust beneath him, as if to reprimand its audacity. The half-asleep hero proceeded to slog forward with even less intention than before.

Maybe if he fell asleep in the middle of the path, they would all stop their shenanigans and put their heads back on their shoulders.

"Hey, Legend! Pick it up, yeah? You're moving about as fast as Wind's gramma on a summer afternoon!"

That stupid cook couldn't even let him sleep, huh?

Legend didn't have a comeback, so he just sneered at Wild's silhouette as Wind did the job for him. Sailor boy had quite the vocabulary -- not exactly vulgar but certainly brazen enough to make the aforementioned 'Gramma' blush had she been here. The lazy smile was still plastered over Legend's face when Time broke away from the group and sidled up next to him.

"What do you make of all this?" Time questioned.

"Nothing much. It's all pretty stupid, to be honest." The veteran hero didn't look up from the floor, addressing his sleepy words to the dust underneath him.

Time gave Legend a sidelong look. The sound of laughter and smell of sea salt carried on the wind and grazed the tips of Legend's ears. The Old Man's gaze didn't falter, somehow becoming more childish and bright as he tilted his head genially to the side and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Legend took one look at the dopey look on Time's face and rolled his eyes.

"Not a chance, Old Man. I might hurt your back."

"My back? Oh no, you misunderstand. I'm more interested in receiving a piggyback ride than giving one."

Legend took an involuntary step back and stared up at Time with incredulity splashed all over his face.

"...?!"

"Ah. You're a poor sport, I see."

"... you're not going to manipulate me into something as humiliating as that."

"Oh well. Worth a shot. But what about Hyrule?"

"??"

"Everyone is getting rides except him. I have a feeling he would appreciate it very much if you would swallow your pride for his sake. Why not help him win that race?"

"Yeah," Legend grunted, "and I would appreciate it if you got off my case and let me be."

They walked on in silence. The Old Man's armor chinked in time with the sea shanty Wind was belting out at the top of his lungs. A few of the other Links joined in, even though they didn't know the words, their voices exploding into an ungodly crescendo as Wind tossed his hands up into the sky. Legend remained silent. He kicked the small pebbles in front of his feet and glowered at the shifting shadows lurking around the path's corners. There was no need to worry -- Hyrule had made it clear that as long as one stuck on the road, there was no chance of being attacked by any monsters -- but Legend's sleep-deprived brain sparkled with anxiety regardless. Snorts and giggles and quips and retorts echoed in the cold air; Time smiled at them, Legend glared. He just wanted to get to a town, eat something, nap, and wake up when Hylia's little shtick was all over.

"Time!" Wild shouted, snapping Legend out of his reverie, "can you hold these for us? Twi and I have a race to win, and alla these thingamajiggers aren't doing much to help us out." Twilight stumbled over to them, trying to balance the hyperactive wild child spazzing out on his shoulders, and started to say something before Wild promptly dumped an assortment of swords, shields, and shirts into the Old Man's outstretched arms. Twilight stared apologetically up at Time, opening his mouth to speak before Wild tugged his hair demanded they rejoin the fray. Legend had to hold a hand in front of his face to avoid breathing in the dust Twilight kicked up. Time stared on fondly, slinging the swords over his shoulders and scrutinizing the abandoned things around him as the two crazies scampered off. He sat on his knees with a grunt and started sifting through his bag, apparently looking for a sliver of space to put the random shields and clothes he'd been handed. A few random weapons and supplies had to come out before anything else could go in, and Legend scrutinized them with the jaded eye of a seasoned mage. Time pulled out a hookshot (typical), bow (even more so), three separate quivers of ice, fire, and light arrows (untouched for years, if the fine coating of dust around them meant anything), and a strange magnifying glass with a magenta frame and indigo lens. Well, well, well. What could that be? A familiar cold fire tickled the back of his throat -- the same one that prompted him to begin his first journey and propelled him through the rest. It only grew stronger when Legend noticed how the lens bent and scattered the moonbeams falling around it; it was almost as if the artifact was trying to avoid the light. His eyebrows flickered up, and a smirk pinched the corners of his lips. Legend tossed a quick glance first at Time, who was still slowly shuffling around the materials in his bag, and another one at the rest of the Links, who were still racing and tripping and shouting like a gang of toddlers. In one fluid movement, Legend swiped the lens and held it up in front of his grinning face.

The lens was heavy, not just because of the metal handle, but because of the ocean of magic seething and roiling within. Dark magic, without a doubt; the thick, somber, molasses-like heartbeat of the enchantment couldn't be chalked up to anything else. But said dark magic had obviously been tampered with in some way; there was none of the electric, fiery malevolence ingrained in most cursed artifacts. Perhaps it had been enchanted by a mage with a pure heart and proficiency in the dark arts? Legend's eyebrows pressed together. His fingertips itched to pull out his Magic Mirror and compare the two.

It took Legend a few seconds to register that Time's singular eye was boring into him. Legend startled and took a few preemptive steps back, just in case the Old Man got it in his head to make a lunge for the strange lens. The veteran hero smiled at his companion, balancing the artifact on the fat part of his palm.

"Fascinating. Where'd you get this, Old Man? Never thought you were a connoisseur of corrupted magical artifacts."

Time shrugged his shoulders and stood up, slinging his bag and assortment of swords around his neck. Legend tried very hard not to become uncomfortable under his unflinching, unreadable stare.

"I don't suggest you play with it," Time finally said.

Legend grinned even wider and pressed the strange artifact to his chest. "You don't say?" He flicked the crimson barbs adorning the top of the lens and tapped the handle with a fingernail. "I can feel the Dark Magic pouring through this lens -- if it even is a lens and not a portal of sorts." Holding it up to the moon, Legend's face contorted in curiosity as the lens snuffed out the light around it. "The weird thing is that there's no malevolence behind the magic. Must have been cast by a powerful mage with no intent to harm."

"Perhaps it was." Despite his words, Time's deadpan words hung thickly in the air and betrayed his complete disinterest in pursuing the conversation further. He held out his hand in front of him, an invitation for Legend to return the lens so the both could continue on their way.

Legend slapped the hand away.

"I don't think so," the veteran teased. "Wanna tell me why you don't want me holding onto this thing? Hiding something, Gramps?"

"Aren't we all?"

"Oh please, spare me your existential-crisis inducing lectures. What do these engravings on the side mean?" Legend squinted at the fine letters etched into the rim. "Hmm...Lens of Truth. Is that what it's called? How odd. Hey, what do you say will happen if I look through it?"

"The same thing that happened to my eye."

Legend's fiery curiosity dimmed and his sense of self-preservation flared. The veteran cradled the lens in his palm and widened his eyes, searching Time's face for any hint of duplicity.

"Really?" Legend whispered.

"Nope." Time replied. The skin around his eyes crinkled. Legend groaned loudly. He should have seen this one coming.

"Ugh. You really had me going for a second there."

"Hmm. Now give it back."

"C'mon," Legend urged, "don't be such a grump. Can't I just hold onto it for a little bit? You know how careful I am with artifacts of all kids, magical or not. Now that I think about it, I'm probably the best person to keep it with. Not like it's doing anything in that bag of yours."

The silence was heavy and disappointing. Legend was about to appeal to his character and reliability once more before noticing the childish glint in Time's eyes.

Oh no.

"Well, maybe if…" Time began.

"I'm not giving you a piggyback ride."

Time's baritone chuckles muffled the sounds of dust crunching beneath their feet. "I was only going to ask you if you would be able to carry all these things for me."

Legend blinked quickly, then sheepishly nodded his head. This was a pretty good deal, actually. He slung Time's bag and the array of swords Wild had dumped off around his shoulders, wincing as they dug into his skin. A sharp prick of jealousy pierced his heart as he watched Time sprint ahead and swing Hyrule onto his shoulders. He shook his head, trying to ignore the sound of Hyrule's soft, shy laughter, and busied himself with the lens in his hands.

What a fascinating thing it was. "The Lens of Truth," huh? Much more enigmatic of a name than "Magic Mirror." He idly bounced the lens in his hand as he thought. Why was it filled with dark magic but free of actual darkness? What kind of truth did it claim to reveal? Why did Time have such a strange artifact sitting at the bottom of his inventory?

His curiosity burned even brighter, and Legend found himself almost skipping down the path.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Saria Town smelled like salt, dirt, and the sweat of a community living on the fringes of the world. At Hyrule's insistence, the Links slid off each other's shoulders and sauntered over to Legend to grab their swords, shields, and -- in Wild's case -- clothes. The veteran smiled half-heartedly as the weight on his back was lifted in bits and pieces, eyes and mind still trained on the Lens of Truth. It had been half an hour since the strange artifact had first been handed to him, and he was still no closer to finding any explanation for its weird magical aura.

"Okay, everyone, just some things before we head in." Hyrule's faint voice carried clearly through the crisp nighttime air. "The only building in this town big enough for all of us to stay at belongs to Saria Town's Wise Man. You guys need to be really nice and polite to him, or we won't have any place to sleep tonight."

"Are you saying we aren't always nice and polite?" Sky questioned. Laughter rippled through the assemblage of heroes as Hyrule awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

"Well, I'm just saying that some of us struggle, maybe just a little, with that last one?"

Everybody's eyes fell on Legend.

"What?" The veteran said.

Hyrule turned bright red and sputtered out an apology, trying to explain that he hadn't meant to single out anybody with that last statement and he was just trying to make sure everybody knew what the townspeople would expect and that he was so sorry gosh just so--

Legend held out a hand in front of him and bounced the Lens of Truth between the fingers of the other. "I'm not mad," he finally said, walking past Hyrule towards the rickety wooden bridge that led to the small town. "I'll be going now. If anyone feels like joining me, be my guest."

Saria Town was somehow even quieter up close. A smattering of squat, grey buildings pressed their stomachs to the floor, tender blades of grass carpeting the ground beneath them. Soft light poured out of open windows and spilled on the ground. The sleepy villagers perked up at the sight of Hyrule and widened their eyes at the sight of his entourage, waving shyly and grinning when the whole group waved back.

Hyrule stopped in front of the biggest building in the town, hesitating for a split second before knocking. The Links clustered behind him. A woman dressed in purple answered the door, light spilling out from the crack in the door and glinting off the polished wooden porch. Her eyes widened when she recognized the figure at her doorstep.

"Hello, Link! Oh, you look so tired! Do you need a place to stay, darling?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hyrule said, "and so does my family."

┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

#linkeduniverse #zelda #fanfiction #angstTIMES!:D #seeking7 #LU

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 5 years ago

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A Day at Coney Island

Nonnie’s Request: “Could I request all your OCs going to Coney island together? Maybe with Bucky and another of the boys as a chaperone? 😲😲😲”

A/N: I can’t believe how excited I got for this request. Thank you, Nonnie, so much. And just know that my OCs are ALWAYS open for any requests ya got. This was amazing and the highlight of my day. :) Also, for this shot I basically plucked all of my characters out of their worlds and threw them in a new one. XD

Summary: It’s not every day that these guys can catch a break, but go big or go home, right?

Word Count: 3128 words

Warnings: This is tooth-rotting fluff. How could I make this angsty?? Seriously - It’s meant to brighten your day. But there is cussing. There’s always cussing. XD

Nothing could ever compare to Coney Island. The feel of the sun warming their skin? The smell of too much salt and sunscreen? Obnoxious laughter and carnival music ringing in their ears? Truly, there was nothing like it.

“Roll the window down! Roll it down!” Marie’s urgency and beating against her thighs was enough to earn a laugh from Jeneva.

Pulling up next to their second vehicle, Jeneva rolled down her corvette’s window. Aviators hid her glowing eyes as she watched the other car’s window disappear. She was met by Andie’s beaming face and Sam peeking around her from the driver’s side. “How did y’end up in the front seat,” she asked Andie, knowing very well that meant Shuri and Bucky had been crammed into the back. Both had wanted to ride with Jeneva instead of the mom-mobile minivan, but Marie had won rock-paper-scissors.

“Same way Marie won your ride,” Andie told her. The passenger doors opened automatically with people piling out. Bucky was grumbling about being crammed in the backseat yet again as Jeneva pulled her keys out of her car.

Sarah rolled her eyes, unable to fight her smile as Typhanie wrapped her arms around Sarah’s shoulders. “He was whining the whole way, Jen. Can you take him next time,” the blonde asked as Sam locked the minivan.

Marie pouted. “No way. I don’t want to ride in that thing.”

“But you made me,” Shuri reminded her. Marie’s ears turned a bright pink as her best friend teased her. It really didn’t matter what that girl said, it was too easy for her to fluster Marie.

Bucky came up behind Jeneva, amusement glittering in his eyes as he watched the younger Lebeau act like such a teenager. She could break into almost any network, rewrite codes as if she were singing her ABC’s, and yet Shuri simply talking to her was enough to make her awkward. “Remember,” he said, giving a pointed look to Andie and Jeneva. “No powers.”

Jeneva waved him off. “Y’no fun.”

“Come on!” Shuri grabbed Marie’s hand, interlacing her fingers and quickly pulling her ahead. “I don’t want to spend the whole day in the parking lot!”

Andie giggled as she ran after them. Really, the idea of going to the beach was her favorite part. She loved sunbathing and that ocean was practically screaming her name.

Sam came up beside Bucky. Them and Jeneva lagged behind, watching his kid and Steve’s quick on their feet. He glanced at Bucky, raising a brow. “This is going to be a mess of a day, isn’t it?”

“Oh, for sure,” Bucky told him, noticing Jeneva roll her eyes even behind her sunglasses. He flicked her hat before spinning the bill around, nestling it on the back of her head. “Let’s get there before they kill the whole park.”

While Coney Island was naturally a busy place buzzing with people and energy, the group had brought another sort of life to it. They were so used to their chaotic lives that days like this were rare indeed. But still – if they were planning a whole day here, they had to choose their moments wisely.

Arcade games during the day.

Crazy rides at night.

“And the little lady is a winner again!” Andie smiled far too innocently as she won the sharpshooter game. Again. Bucky looked from his water gun to hers and then to that dimpled smile she had. The silent look on his face said it all. How? How did she do it?

“I think we have a new sharpshooter,” Sam teased Bucky as Andie was handed a massive stuffed giraffe.

“Oh, shut it, Birdbrain.”

Typhanie, Sarah, and Marie were playing ski-ball, albeit all in their own way. Typhanie would shoot hers back to back, consistently hitting the center and second holes. Meanwhile, Marie was using her computer brain to calculate the precise angle needed for countless high scores. The top two holes were hit over and over again. Marie never missed.

Both women were on either side of Sarah, teasing her endlessly. This was clearly not her game. She was lucky to get the lowest ones and sometimes even managed to send the ball flying back her way. A yelp shot out of her throat as the skiball flew towards her head. She ducked, looking over her shoulder just as Jeneva caught the ball. In her hand and in Shuri’s were caramel apples.

“Y’gonna injure someone, petite.”

“Sorry,” Sarah muttered.

Electricity crackled around the ball as she tossed it into the air, catching it again. Sidestepping Sarah, she took her shot. The ball landed in the middle hole, short circuiting it. Ticket after ticket poured out of the machine as Sarah’s eyes grew to the size of saucers.

“That’s cheating,” Shuri reminded Jeneva, whacking her arm.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s a game.” Jeneva laughed when she saw how big Sarah was smiling. “’Sides,” she whispered to Shuri. “The fille needed help, ca va?”

Shuri glanced at Sarah as she gathered up the tickets. “Fine, klepto, but Bucky did say no powers.”

Typhanie looked up, snorting when she heard that. “You’re kidding, right? He’s still pouting because Andie beat him at the water gun thing. I think he’s ready to declare it rigged.”

“Sounds ‘bout right,” Marie commented, not looking their way. Shuri grinned, a sneaky glint flickering in her eyes.

“Hey, Miss Marie.” She planted a sticky-sweet kiss on Marie’s cheek moments before the ball flew from her fingers. Beat red, Marie watched as her last ball landed in the gutter. Innocently, Shuri asked, “Was that my fault?”

“Uh – I -- “ Marie huffed, ducking her head. “Non. That was ‘cause o’moi.”

A warm pair of arms wrapped around Jeneva and she felt a chin rest on top of her head. “Heard y’lost a shootin’ game,” Jeneva teased, not bothering to look up as Bucky’s arms squeezed her gently.

“Shush you.” Bucky grabbed her wrist and brought the caramel apple to his lips.

Jeneva yelped, squirming in his grip to try to keep the caramel from dripping on her. “Can’t y’get y’own?”

He shrugged and released her wrist, munching on the treat. “More fun this way.”

Andie came over, struggling to keep her arms wrapped around the giraffe. “This thing is awesome.” Typhanie came up, running her fingers through the cheap fuzz that made up the giraffe’s fur. “We all need to leave here with giant stuffed animals.”

“Hell yes,” Typhanie agreed. “We could get a huge photo of them on the beach.” She looked at Sarah. “How does that sound?”

“I’m all for it, but not the shooting game. I suck at that.”

Typhanie whipped her head around, searching for something that would work. “What about that one?” She pointed and Sarah followed her gaze. There was one of those games that was kind of like ring toss, but it was set up with little plastic balls and fishbowls. Sarah smiled.

That would work.

“See you guys in a bit!” Sarah grabbed Typhanie’s wrist, earning a squeal of laughter before the two were heading towards the game.

“Gotta admit,” Bucky told Sam, noting the tension in his shoulders. “They’re cute together.”

“Yeah,” Sam mumbled begrudgingly. “Still don’t have to like it.”

Andie rolled her eyes. “Jeez, you’re such a dad, you know that?”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I am one then.”

“Alright, y’guys,” Marie spoke up, finally finding her voice again. “If we’re gonna make this photo happen, we should probably find more games. Where to next?”

Two hours passed and finally everyone had their own stuffed animal. Even Sam and Bucky. Since this was Andie’s and Typhanie’s idea, the pair were currently lining up the animals near the water, trying to find the best angles. Andie’s giraffe and Typhanie’s bear were on either end. Sarah’s elephant was propped against the bear and Shuri had managed to win an octopus that was delicately placed next to the giraffe. Not that anyone but Marie really noticed. Jeneva’s long-armed monkey and Bucky’s wolf were propped in the middle, separated at Sam’s insistence for his goofy looking goldfish with way-too-big eyes.

“Alright, perfect!” Andie jumped to her feet, pulling out her phone. “No one touch anything!” Her jeans were rolled up as she stepped into the water, attempting to get a good angle. However, the way the wind was blowing kept knocking her hair in her face. As much as she tried to get it out of the way, it wasn’t willing to work with her. It took Sarah pulling her hair into a messy ponytail for Andie to finally get her photo.

“That good for you,” Bucky asked. His metal arm glinted in the sunlight. Because they were closer to the water, he’d taken off his jacket and let Jeneva wear it. Was it necessary? Maybe not, but he knew it made Jeneva more comfortable about being closer to the ocean.

Andie stuck her tongue out at him. “Yeah, Old man, that’s good for me,” she mocked as the Lebeau girls snickered. She shrugged her tote off her shoulder. It was woven, painted to look like a rainbow. Inside was her beach towel and some sunscreen, but still plenty of room for all their prizes. “Alright, toss ‘em in.”

One by one, each stuffed toy was crammed into the tote until only the giraffe head was peeking out. Andie looked out at the water, noticing how pretty the sky was starting to look. As much as she wanted a chance to lie in the sun, she had to admit. She was having more fun spending time with her friends. “So…we did the arcade games,” she said, looking back at her friends. “What’s next?”

“HOLY SHIIIIIIIIIIIII – “ Bucky’s scream carried through the air with ease as they whipped through the Cyclone. It might have been Steve who had thrown up the first time they rode the crazy rollercoaster, but there was a true possibility that it would be Bucky this time around.

He collided into Jeneva, pinning her into the side of the cart. She laughed, her sunglasses tucked safely away and eyes glowing their pretty gold. “Fuck, y’heavy,” she shouted over the roar of rumbling wood and metal.

“Everybody, hold on,” Shuri said, not even bothering to listen to her own advice. She threw her hands into the air as Marie attempted to shrink in her seat.

“Fuck! Shit! Damnit!!” The slurs weren’t enough for Marie. She quickly switched to her French tongue as her thick hair waved frantically in the wind. “’M gonna die, ‘m gonna die!”

“God, you’re no fun,” Sarah shouted at Marie as she and Typhanie slammed into one another around the curve. The ride was old. And creaking. Half the terror that came from the ride was due to the sheer curiosity of whether or not it would stay in one piece.

And being the thrill seeker that she was, Sarah loved it.

Typhanie yelped as her ribs slammed into the metal bar. Oh, that hurt. She twisted slightly, clinging to Sarah as their cackling filled the air. That alone was the reminder for the group that this was certainly their idea.

“I’m picking the next riIIDE!” Sam shouted from behind as Andie cackled next to him.

Half of the team were heroes, used to training and fighting against the bad guys. But facing the Cyclone? That was a whole other beast.

Stumbling off the ride, Bucky leaned heavily against Jeneva as she attempted to put her sunglasses on. “Homme, y’a super soldier! A coaster ain’t gonna send y’t’ya knees.” Bucky chuckled. Apparently her comment was enough to send his mind reeling. He leaned forward, whispering something in her ear that earned a bright pink tinge to her cheeks. Huffing, Jeneva elbowed him in the stomach. The obnoxious grunt that came from him was enough to satisfy her. “Behave y’self.”

“You’re no fun, Doll.”

“How ‘bout somethin’ a petite calmer,” Marie asked, her hand clinging to the crook of Shuri’s elbow. “Sil vous plait?”

Shuri gave her a small smile. Marie was definitely calmer than Jeneva. She didn’t thrive off of energy, something the other Lebeau had to do because of her powers. Marie preferred staying tucked away in her computer lab, exploring a world in technology that no one else had really understood before the two had met. Brushing some of Marie’s tangled hair out of her face, Shuri asked, “What about the Wonder Wheel?” She looked at the others, seeing them all share a look that meant they were on board.

“Wonder Wheel,” Andie said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “Here we go.”

It’s a much calmer experience than the Cyclone had been. Everyone piled into their own passenger cars. The lights flickered, glowing against their skin. “You and your friends picked a good time,” the attendant told Typhanie and Sarah. “The fireworks should be starting soon.”

“Cool,” Typhanie tugged Sarah in, laughing when her girlfriend stumbled into her seat. Sarah huffed, running a hand through her hair as the attendant closed the door. “Aw, you’re pouting,” Typhanie teased, poking her cheek.

“Shut up,” Sarah muttered, throwing her legs across Typhanie’s lap. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Typhanie tugged her legs closer, forcing Sarah to get tucked into her side. Knowing Sarah wasn’t really upset, she gave her a sweet kiss.

Sarah giggled against her lips. “I thought the tradition was to kiss the girl at the top of the Ferris Wheel.”

“When do we ever follow tradition?”

Their laughter bubbled up, carrying to Marie’s and Shuri’s passenger car. They were sitting across from each other, the car gently rocking as they looked out at the water. It was a beautiful sight with the moon reflecting in the waves. “Merci,” Marie whispered, fingers playing with the ends of her hair as Shuri turned to look her way.

“For what?”

“Pickin’ this ride. It’s exactly what I needed.”

A small smile tugged at Shuri’s lips. She knew she wasn’t supposed to move around in the car. Not when they were in the air. But it couldn’t be helped. She moved quickly, noticing the way Marie sat a little straighter, and plopped into the seat next to her. “I like you.” Shuri noticed the panic flashing in Marie’s eyes. “A lot. And I know you’re freaking out, but I also know you feel the same way. You aren’t subtle.”

Marie bit her lip, eyes flicking and searching Shuri’s face. “I – I – “ She felt like she couldn’t talk. Taking a slow breath, Marie admitted, “I don’t understand romance. Or fallin’ in love. I’m not like mon famille who just dives in headfirst. I’m awkward…And I like when t’ings make sense. Romance and love don’t. And that terrifies moi.”

Shuri was waiting for the but. There had to be one. Surely, she hadn’t been imagining what was happening between them. Right?

“But I do. Like y’, I mean. I’m just really bad at understandin’ what that means.”

Shuri felt giddy. She didn’t mind the need to understand that came with Marie. It just meant that they had to work together. Intertwining their hands, Shuri gave a gentle squeeze. Marie shifted her gaze to their hands. It fit so well. “Maybe,” Shuri offered, nudging her with her shoulder. “We take it slow? And figure it all out together?”

Marie smiled, looking back at Shuri. “I t’ink I can get behind that.”

Jeneva had been watching from above, peering over the edge and trying to hear everything that was going on. She couldn’t help it. She liked making sure that Marie was okay.

“Get over here.” Bucky looped his flesh arm around her waist, tugging her back into his chest. “She’s a big girl, Jen. Let her figure it out.”

“I know,” Jeneva grumbled as she turned towards Bucky. He pushed her sunglasses on top of her head, smiling when he saw that liquid gold flickering in her eyes. “I just don’t want ‘er t’get hurt. That so bad?”

“No, it’s not,” Bucky assured her, his thumb running along her cheek. He watched as electricity ran under her skin, chasing after his thumb and making her skin glow. There was a time when he had thought those powers could only hurt people. Now…he knew that sometimes her powers had a calming effect. They could provide warmth and an odd feeling of fullness that he had come to love. Just like he loved her. “But we’re at the top of the Wonder Wheel,” he told her just as the ride pulled to a stop. “And I’d like a bit of your attention before you force me into that minivan again.”

Jeneva’s jaw dropped, a shocked laugh filling the air. “I didn’t! Marie won fair ‘n’ square!”

Bucky grinned. “Whatever,” he said, not fully believing that she would have forced Marie into the minivan.

The crackle and pop of fireworks grabbed their attention. Jeneva settled in on Bucky’s lap, resting her head on his shoulder as the sky lit up. Though her eyes watched the glow and show intently, his gaze was focused on her. The way her eyes flickered a little brighter with every new firework. How warm she felt because of the electricity coursing through her veins. The way her steady heart always made him feel calm. Pressing a small kiss to her forehead, he rest his cheek on her head, careful of the sunglasses, and looked back to the show she was so entranced by.

“How much you want to bet that none of them are actually watching the show?”

Sam glanced back at Andie. She had that same old, knowing smile on her lips. He scrunched his nose. While he and Bucky were supposed to be the chaperones for the day, he knew that Bucky would slack off since Jeneva was there. But still…

He didn’t need to picture it.

“I need you to keep those thoughts to yourself. One of them is my kid, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” Andie grinned like the cat that ate the canary, cuddling into her giraffe as another firework burst in the air. “That’s why I said it.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re as mean as Barnes, you know that?”

Andie laughed. “Careful. Imagine if I was his kid.”

He shuddered. “Nope. No, that’s worse than the idea of all of them ignoring the show.”

Andie’s laughter, though drowned out by the fireworks, was filled with warmth. The type that could only come from a day like today. A day with friends. With family. A day at Coney Island.

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jadenxtfd732 · 5 years ago

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Coin Master Free Spin In 2015-- Predictions

All The Gamings Developed By Video Game Developer Crytek.

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Content

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More items•

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sofhyuck · 6 years ago

Text

More Than Words

Genre: Friends to lovers, college!Mark, fluff, Mark being a dumbass

Word count: 8.2k

Excerpt: “I mean, we’re not dating, if that’s what you mean.” You finally spoke up, bringing your forearms to lean on the table.

“Ok…” Jeno trailed off, seemingly trying to think of what words to say next. “But do you…I mean, like, do you want to, ya know, be in a relationship with him?”

Silence washed over the two of you as you began to mull over his words. Did you want to be in a relationship with Mark? I mean, you basically acted like you were at this point, but couldn’t it mess up your whole friend dynamic if you began dating? Wouldn’t it be weird living together while you were in the early stages of a relationship? And what if the two of you broke up while you were still rooming together? What would happen then?

A/N: I h8 mak lee

Masterlist

You huffed out a heavy sigh as you jabbed your finger into the keypad with one hand while attempting to balance your luggage with the other. Finally, the lock chimed, signalling that the door was unlocked. Pushing it open, you dragged your luggage inside, allowing the door to close behind you. Shoes littered the small entryway, evidence of your roommate who had managed to move in a few days before you. The international program at Yonsei offered a two week period in which international students could arrive in order to acclimate themselves. While you chose to stay with your family a little longer, your roommate wanted to settle in as soon as possible.

When you first found out who your roommate was going to be, you were shocked, to say the least. The boy, Mark Lee, had immediately taken to facebook and friended you, sending you a short message about being your roommate for the following school year. You exchanged a few messages, the preliminary “where are you from” and “when will you be arriving” before the conversation eventually died out. That didn’t prevent you from browsing his facebook and instagram, which he hadn’t hesitated to friend you on as well. There was no denying that he was attractive; he held a cute boyish charm to him, and nearly every picture he posted had a slew of friendly comments underneath, signifying that he was well liked. All you could do was hope that his image on social media wasn’t a mere facade and that his friendliness translated into real life.

Lugging your suitcase over to the empty twin bed, you pushed it to the ground and hastily emptied its contents. Jetlag was slowly overtaking your body, and you wanted to get yourself as situated as possible before you inevitably passed out. Placing your final pair of underwear in the drawers, you closed up your suitcase and headed towards the shower attached to your small dorm room. Meeting Mark be damned, you just wanted to sleep. Stepping into the tiled room, you took a few seconds to scan the contents of the bathroom while turning on the shower. Typical for a boy his age, Mark only had a few toiletries, the majority of the counter space taken up by your own supplies. Submerging yourself under the stream of warm water, you allowed the grime collected over the hours of travel to wash off of your body. Quickly shampooing and conditioning your hair, you turned off the water and finished up your nightly routine. Luckily, you had arrived at the dorms in the evening, meaning that you might be able to adjust to the time difference more easily. Stepping out of the bathroom, you didn’t even bother drying your hair before plopping down onto your mattress and falling into a deep sleep.

❃❃❃❃

You woke up the next morning to the soft thrumming of the air conditioning unit. Sluggishly, you picked up your phone to check the time only to find you had managed to naturally wake up at a decent time. Rolling over onto your side, you were greeted with the sight of Mark’s sleeping figure on his bed across from yours. You studied his form for a few minutes until the urge to pee became too strong and forced you out of your bed. Careful not to wake the sleeping boy, you padded towards the bathroom in order to relieve yourself and wash up. Drying your face with your towel, you reentered the living area only to be find Mark propped up on his pillows, scrolling through his phone. At your entrance, his attention turned towards you.

“Good morning!” He smiled, waving awkwardly with his phone still in hand.

“Oh, good morning! I’m sorry if I woke you up, I was trying to be quiet.” You muttered, moving to sit on your own bed.

“It’s no problem at all,” he waved you off. “I normally get up around this time anyways. How was your flight? Are you adjusting to the time zone ok?”

“My flight was fine, a little long. Oh!” You jumped up, hurrying towards your suitcase. “I brought you this chocolate from my hometown, I hope it hasn’t melted.” Rummaging through your luggage you pulled out the bar and handed it to him. “I wasn’t sure what flavor you wanted so I decided to play it safe with salted caramel.”

Mark’s eyes lit up at the sight of the chocolate, eagerly taking it from you with a wide grin on his face.

“Woah, dude, thanks so much! Damn, now I feel bad, I didn’t even think to get you anything.”

“It’s fine, you can repay me by showing me around the city today.” You said with a shrug.

“Oh, sure, of course! Actually, my friends and I are going to Hongdae today and we were wondering if you wanted to come with. They’ve been dying to meet you.”

“Why would they want to meet me?” You queried.

Mark’s face flushed as he fidgeted in his seat. “I mean, well, I showed them a picture of you and they all thought you were really pretty and, well, yea…” He mumbled, voice trailing off at the end.

It was your turn to turn red in embarrassment and you shuffled towards your closet in order to distract yourself.

“Well, that’s very nice of them. I’d love to hang out with you guys, though!”

“Great! We’re meeting in half an hour so we should get dressed. They’ll meet us in the common area.”

The two of you moved around each other, preparing for the day before it was time to go. Mark held the door open for you as you slipped on your shoes and the two of you headed towards the common area. You walked in relative semi-comfortable silence, but it wasn’t long before boisterous laughter could be heard bouncing through the halls. The noise grew louder as you drew nearer to the common area, the laughter joined with the voices of several boys. Rounding the corner, you were greeted with four boys who appeared to be around your age.

“Ah, hyung, you’re here! Oh, Y/n too!” The four boys turned their attention to you and Mark walked over to greet them.

“Yah, you guys are so loud I could hear you from the third floor.” He teased, gesturing for you to come closer. “This is my roommate, Y/n, as you all already know.”

“Um, hello, it’s nice to meet all of you.”

They all introduced themselves accordingly, revealing that they were all in the year below Mark. All but one of them had lived in Korea their entire lives while the fourth had lived in China while studying in a Korean immersion school. Nerves began to bubble in your stomach at the prospect of having to converse purely in Korean with the boys, a language you still lacked confidence in.

“Y/n, you’re so pretty. I wish my roommate was as pretty as you!” Jaemin cooed, batting his eyelashes at you, causing your face to flush.

“Yah! I’m your roommate, dumbass!” Jeno yelled, shoving Jaemin in offense.

Laughter chimed throughout the group and Renjun suggested that you head out so that you might be able to miss the lunch rush on the subway. The five boys walked ahead while you slowly lagged further and further behind. You weren’t particularly social to begin with, let alone in a language you were still struggling to grasp. There wasn’t much else you could do but stray behind and silently curse Mark for leaving you in the dust. Could you have attempted to make conversation? Yes. But was Mark making any efforts to include you in the conversation? No. So why should you have to do all the work? Too busy shooting daggers at the back of Mark’s head, you almost missed Jeno nudging Mark. Hoping to subtly get it through Mark’s thick head that you were feeling a bit left out, Jeno gently pushed his numb-skulled friend towards you. He stood waiting for you to catch up, the rest of the group slowing their stride alongside him.

“Sorry for leaving you behind,” he muttered, bringing his hand up to scratch sheepishly at the back of his neck. “I got a little caught up in the conversation.”

“That’s ok! I get they’re your friends, I barely know you guys it’s fine!”

Mark merley grimaced, clearly still feeling the guilt of leaving you behind. Catching up with the rest of the group, Mark made feeble, but albeit appreciated, attempts at including you in the conversation. Luckily, the other four boys were able to actively engage you in conversation, and you found yourself enjoying your time spent with them. While they all made efforts to converse with you, you found yourself talking with Mark and Jeno the most. As time wore on and your party travelled around the streets of Hongdae, you began to feel the jetlag creeping back over you. All the walking around and eating surely wasn’t helping to keep you awake, and you found yourself slipping in and out of semi-consciousness. You were sat in a small ramen shop when, finally having enough, you gently nudged Mark’s arm and he turned to look at you.

“Sorry, I know you’re having fun with your friends but I’m feeling really tired right now and I’m a little unsure of how to get back to school. Would you mind…?”

“Oh, of course not!” He immediately stood up from where he was sat, explaining to the rest of the boys that the two of you were heading back. The subway was a little crowded and Mark rushed to grab you the last empty seat, leaving him to stand in front of you, slightly leaning over you while holding onto the overhead bar. You lazily gazed up at him, smiling lightly at his look of concern.

“Sorry again for making you head back early. And sorry I’ve been so low energy today, I promise I’m not usually so boring.” You laughed lightly.

“No dude don’t apologize! I shouldn’t have dragged you around the day after you landed! And you’re not boring you’re really fun and cool and, and, yea…” he trailed off, looking to the side in a poor attempt to hide his flushed face. The two of you spent the rest of the short ride in a comfortable silence. Arriving at your stop, you stumbled out of the train and Mark quickly took a hold of your waist in order to steady you. He left his arm there as he led you back to the dorms, scared that you might fall again. Upon arriving at your room, Mark hesitantly released you so that you could wash up and go to bed.

“Thanks for taking care of me Mark.” You whispered, laying down on the firm mattress.

“It was no problem, really. Rest well, Y/n. Goodnight”

“Goodnight.”

❃❃❃❃

The rest of the week passed by fairly quickly once your body fully adjusted to the new time zone. You spent the first few days following your initial venture inside the dorm, only going out to the nearby convenience store for your meals. However, once you recovered, you spent your days with Mark and his friends, discovering different parts of Seoul whilst becoming a tight knit group of friends. Of course, your adventures couldn’t last forever as the first day of classes loomed over your heads. You knew you weren’t going to share any classes with your younger friends as you were going to take all of yours in English. Mark had eagerly asked to see your schedule the day before classes began and you discovered you would share one class in the afternoon. Donghyuck had, very politely, asked that you all eat lunch together every day or otherwise risk being thrown into the Han river. Everyone had willingly agreed to the proposal, deciding that you would all meet at the main gate.

Mark woke up before you, his first class starting half an hour before yours. You barely had time to get in a quick good luck before he made his way out of the room, leaving you to get ready for the day ahead of you.

The morning went by in a blur, especially since you only had one class before lunch. You had made light conversation with the person sat next to you, but there were no friendships blooming yet. When lunch time rolled around you made your way towards the main gate, meeting Mark along the way as his class was in the same area as yours.

“How’s your day been so far?” Mark asked, bumping your shoulder with his.

“My class was pretty uneventful,” you shrugged. “But I missed your wonderful presence.” You pouted, bringing your hand up to pinch at his cheek.

“Oh shut up,” Mark blushed, swatting your hand away, “You sound like Hyuck. Besides, you’ll get to see me this afternoon.”

“Ugh, I guess that will be enough for me.” You huffed, giggling when you saw Jaemin waving wildly at you from the main gate.

The six of you spent lunch in an upbeat manner, although you were almost kicked out of the restaurant when renjun all but leapt across the table after Donghyuck called him short for the hundredth time. There was endless chatter amongst your group, often earning you glares from the surrounding patrons eating their lunches.

“How was your class?” Jeno asked, leaning into your left side where he sat.

“Not too bad, the professor seems nice enough and the course material is interesting. What about you?”

“My day’s been great! Jaemin’s in my sociology class, though, and he talked through the whole class.”

“I did not!” Jaemin yelled from across the table, seemingly delivering a sharp kick to Jeno’s shin as he winced in pain, lifting his leg from under the table to soothe his aching limb. Jeno stuck his tongue out in response before turning back to you.

“I wish we had some classes together, I knew I should have taken English class more seriously in high school.” He pouted.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, I’m the one who should be taking their language studies more seriously seeing as I’m living in another country.”

“Ah, Y/n, your Korean is good for someone who’s taken it as long as you!” Mark piped up from your other side.

“Stooop, don’t flatter me.” You whined, bringing your hands up to quell the blush forming on your cheeks.

“Oh shush, it’s true! Anyways, we should get going, our class is starting soon.” Mark held you by the elbow, gently pulling you up with him as you checked the time on your phone. Realizing you only had fifteen minutes to get back on campus, you quickly bid your friends goodbye and rushed back to campus.

“Slow down there Speedy Gonzales, we’ve still got time.” Mark called out from a few steps behind you.

“Unlike you, Mr. Lee, I’d rather not be late to the first day of class.”

“It’s not my fault my bag broke on the way to class.” He pouted, finally catching up to you. “Besides, look, we’re here with minutes to spare!”

“More like one minute.” You muttered under your breath, following Mark into the classroom and sitting beside him.

A small laugh threatened to break past your lips and you brought a hand up to your mouth in an attempt to stifle it. It was nearly the end of class and Mark was passed out on his notebook, lulled to sleep by the monotonous voice of your professor. Quietly, you leaned over and placed a sharp flick to his forehead. Mark jolted upright, blinking blearily before bringing his gaze over to yours, his expression muddled from his sleep.

“Class is almost over, idiot.” You murmured under your breath, turning your attention back to the professor who was wrapping up his lesson. At his approved dismissal you gathered your things, looking over at Mark to find him doing the same.

“Should we go get some boba to celebrate a successful first day of classes?”

“Were you even awake for any of your classes?” You laughed, following him out of the academic building.

“Shut up. I was considering paying for your drink but you’re being so mean to mean you don’t deserve it.” He huffed, picking up his pace, forcing you into a light jog in order to catch up with him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for telling the truth.” You teased, clutching onto his bicep.

“Whatever, I’ll pay for it anyways because I’m such a nice roommate.”

You gave out a mock cheer, ruffling Mark’s hair only to grab his hand and pull him towards the nearest boba shop.

“Taro milk tea with seventy-five percent sugar, right?” He asked, looking behind you as he stood in line for your drinks.

“Mhm,” you hummed, “You know me so well Marky.” “Don’t call me that.” Mark grumbled, but you could see the smile fighting its way onto his face.

❃❃❃❃

“Oh my god Jeno get off of me!” You whined, practically feeling your lungs collapsing under his weight.

“Nuh uh, not until you give me my phone back!”

“I told you already, I don’t have it! Renjun took it, he won’t admit it because he wants to see me suffer!”

“Stop trying to deflect all of your problems onto me, Y/n, this one’s on you.” Renjun called from Jaemin’s bed, quietly laughing at your pain.

“Jeno, I swear he’s lying!” You drew out, attempting to throw his weight off of you.

“Just give it to me and I’ll get up-” Jeno was abruptly cut off by Mark shoving his surprisingly heavy body off of you only to take his place. Mark, understanding the concept of wanting to keep his friends alive, laid next to you as opposed to directly on top.

“Hey, that’s my bed.” Jeno pouted.

“You should’ve thought about that before trying to suffocate my roommate, dumbass.” Mark quipped back, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your body closer to his.

It was a friday night and the six of you had set yourselves up in Jeno and Jaemin’s room. A few empty soju bottles were strewn around the floor as you all chattered away, drinking away the stress of the previous week. Jeno frantically moved around the room, searching for his misplaced phone.

“I swear to God, who the fuck took my ph— oh.” You looked over to see Jeno picking his phone up from the top of his mini fridge.

“See I told you I didn’t fucking take it.”

“Oh shut up, Y/n, you were more than ready to throw me under the bus.” Renjun yelled from across the room.

“You were blaming me too!” You could feel Mark’s body shaking behind you, giggling at your antics.

“Both of you stop, I’m getting a migraine.” Jaemin groaned.

“No, let em go!” Donghyuck replied. “This is A plus content right here!”

You let out a small laugh, already forgetting your previous quarrel as the alcohol muddied your mind. Mark nuzzled further into your back, allowing more giggles to slip past his lips. The two of you found yourself stuck in a fit of laughter and you turned to face him, poking at his face with your forefinger.

“What are you guys laughing about, I wanna know.” Donghyuck asked, scooting over to rest his chin on the side of the bed.

“I don’t even know, Hyucky.” You breathed out between your laughter, nuzzling your head into the crook of Mark’s neck.

“You old people are weird.” Donghyuck murmured before turning back to the rest of your group.

“Aw, Donghyuck, we loooove you.” Mark giggled, pursing his lips in a mock kiss. Donghyuck merely shot him a look of disgust and the rest of the group chimed in with a chorus of “ewwww”’s.

“I have to pee.” Mark suddenly announced to the room, climbing over your body to make his way to the toilet.

“Don’t clog it up like you did last time!”

“I told you that wasn’t me!” Mark flushed, swiftly closing the door behind him. The room fell silent for a moment before Mark spoke up once more.

“Start talking or something,” he whined, “I don’t want you guys to hear me peeing.”

The boys all laughed, restarting their conversations so that Mark could comfortably relieve himself. Jeno made his way back onto his bed, sitting beside where you had propped yourself up in order to scroll through your phone.

“Watcha lookin at?” He prodded, leaning over your shoulder to glance at your screen.

“Hm? Oh, I’m texting some friends from home. They just woke up.”

Jeno hummed in understanding, bringing his head to rest on your shoulder.

“Are any of them pretty?” He teased.

“Like I would introduce any of them to you idiots.” You snorted while putting down your phone, Mark reappearing from the bathroom to sit on your other side.

“Hey, what’s so bad about us?”

“Well, Renjun, you’re all incredibly annoying.”

“I resent that!” Jaemin chimed in.

“What about me, am I annoying.” Mark nudged your side.

You looked him up and down, your gaze lingering on his pouting lips before returning to his eyes.

“Eh, you’re all right I guess.” You shrugged, laughing lightly when he let out a loud huff.

“I’m the best damn roommate you’ll ever have.” He crossed his arms while angling his body away from you.

“You’re wrong, Jeno is the best roommate ever.” Jaemin called out, winking at Jeno from across the room.

“Aww, Marky, I’m sorry, did I hurt your feelings?” You reached over to pat him on the head, Mark leaning into your touch. “You’re the best roommate I’ve ever had.”

“You’re my favorite roommate ever.” He smiled, giggling while nuzzling his nose into the side of your head.

“God you old people really are gross.” Renjun practically gagged, earning him a high five from Donghyuck.

“You’re just jealous because you have Hyuck as a roommate.”

“Maybe you’re right…” Renjun trailed off, seemingly rethinking all his previous life decisions.

“I revoke my previous high five.” Donghyuck mimed undoing his high five, pulling another laugh from Mark.

“See why I wouldn’t want to introduce you to my friends? You’re all idiots.” The room filled with a chorus of whines and your neck vibrated from Mark’s laughter, his lips nearly pressed against your neck. You brought your hand up to ruffle his hair, leaning your head against his. A sigh of content came from Mark and you shut your eyes, feeling yourself being lulled to sleep by Mark’s steady breaths tickling at your neck.

“I swear, get out of our room before you fall asleep.” Jeno nudged you, pulling you out of your peace.

“They’re so old they can’t even stay up late anymore.”

“Shut up I’m barely a year older than you guys!” Mark groaned, standing up and pulling you along with him. “Come on, let’s go back to our room.”

You only nodded in response, suddenly overwhelmed by the strong urge to fall asleep. Noticing your exhaustion, Mark hooked his arm around your waist and pulled you to his side, allowing you to rest the majority of your weight against him. The rest of the boys all bid their farewells as the two of you left the room. The international dorms were a good fifteen minute walk away from the regular ones, leaving you and Mark to stumble home, giggling the whole way back.

Mark pushed the door open, tugging at your wrist, encouraging you to follow behind. Closing the door behind you, you immediately latched your arms onto his waist. He led you to his bed, throwing himself down and subsequently pulling you along with him. The both of you giggled before Mark reached up to brush a few stray hairs from your face.

“We should probably get washed up.” You mumbled, laying your head to rest on his chest. He merely hummed in response, gently nudging you to move so that he could get up. The two of you washed up in a comfortable silence, you taking slightly longer than Mark considering your extensive skin care routine. Leaving the bathroom you came face to face with Mark lying on his bed. He made soft grabby motions, signalling for you to lay down beside him. Softly, you padded towards his bed, settling into the warm sheets.

“Sleep with me tonight, yea?” Mark whispered into the top of your head. You nodded slowly, already feeling yourself slip into a deep sleep. In your half-unconscious state, you felt Mark press his lips into your hair before he fell asleep as well.

❃❃❃❃

It was looking up to be an odd day. Mark had left earlier than usual as the class he shared with Donghyuck was set to have a field trip that day. Renjun wasn’t feeling well so he decided to stay in while Jaemin had to study all day for his upcoming exam. You and Jeno, being the only ones of your small group left, decided to stray a little farther from campus than usual. The two of you took your time, ambling about the streets while you chatted and bantered away. Eventually, you arrived to a restaurant that you both deemed suitable enough and headed inside. You made small conversation before your food was set before you. After taking a few bites of his meal, Jeno sat back and cleared his throat. You looked towards him, eyebrows raised in confusion as it was unusual for Jeno to stop eating before he completely finished his meal.

“What’s up?” You queried, setting down your own chopsticks to give him your undivided attention.

“I was just wondering, well me and the boys have been wondering…ah I don’t know how to ask this, it’s so awkward.”

“You’re scaring me.” You laughed nervously.

“It’s nothing bad! It’s just, the guys and I have noticed that you and Mark are, like, really close and keep getting closer and, I don’t know, we want to know if anything’s going on.”

You flushed slightly, wondering just how long these speculations had been carrying on. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed the shift in your dynamic. It’d be an even bigger lie if you said your heart didn’t race at every lingering touch Mark provided.

“I mean, we’re not dating, if that’s what you mean.” You finally spoke up, bringing your forearms to lean on the table.

“Ok…” Jeno trailed off, seemingly trying to think of what words to say next. “But do you…I mean, like, do you want to, ya know, be in a relationship with him?”

“I’m going to take your silence as a yes,” Jeno smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s pretty obvious he likes you too, you know, and we’re all pretty much waiting for you guys to get together at this point. It’s been like, two months since we made our bets on you guys.”

“You made bets on us? What do you even mean by that?” You raised your voice, shooting an accusatory glare at him.

“Yea, so if can you guys get together in like, a week? That’d be great. Renjun already lost but my time’s running out and I’m really banking on you guys so I can buy my christmas presents—”

“No, you idiot!” You cut him off, reaching across the table to smack him over the head. “I can’t believe you guys made bets, oh my god you’re all so weird.”

“Please Y/n, I’ll even buy you a really nice gift!” Your harsh glare shut him up and you quickly changed the subject of the conversation. Your lunch came to an end and Jeno paid for your meal in hopes of winning your favor. When the two of you arrived back on campus Jeno made sure to send you a sly smirk.

“If you tell anyone you’re dead.” You hissed through gritted teeth.

“Hey now, I may be annoying but I’m not a bad friend.”

“Sure Jeno, whatever you say.” You said with a roll of your eyes before making your way to your next class.

❃❃❃❃

“Ah, our Y/n is so cute!” Jaemin cooed, squeezing your cheeks with his hands.

“Jaemin I will end you.” You deadpanned, expression stoic as you stared straight at the boy in front of you.

“How many times do I have to tell you guys to leave my roommate alone?” Mark groaned, swooping in to rescue you from Jaemin’s grasp.

“You can keep telling us that, but as long as Y/n remains this cute we will never leave them alone.”

“I know they’re cute but they’re my roommate so hands off.” He huffed, bringing your body closer to his.

“Calm down there, buddy. I may joke about hating all the skinship but, really, I don’t mind.” You reprimanded, pinching at Jaemin’s cheek to further your point.

“Ah, Y/n, thank you for finally returning my love!” Jaemin exclaimed, mock weeping while throwing his body onto yours. A loud laugh sounded from you at his antics, happily wrapping your arms around him in an embrace. Mark huffed loudly beside you and you looked over to find him glaring at Jaemin’s back. You reached over to pat him on the head when your room door burst open to reveal a fuming Jeno.

“Jaemin what the hell did you do to our keypad?” He roared, storming over to rip him from your embrace.

“Shit how did you even find me?”

“Where else would you be? Hyuck and Renjun are still fighting over the noodle incident and god bless anyone who would want to be around when they’re hashing it out. And don’t change the subject, explain to me why I can’t get into our room!”

“Well, you see, it’s actually a funny story—”

“Can you guys take your lovers quarrel somewhere else? Y/n and I were just about to watch High School Musical.”

“Again?” Jaemin snorted. “How did Y/n manage to rope you into watching that garbage for, what, the third time this month?”

“The High School Musical trilogy is a timeless classic you asshole.”

“Stop trying to change the subject.” Jeno practically whined, tugging at Jaemin’s sleeve.

“Fine, ok, so maybe I spilled some of my coffee on the keypad this morning and maybe I forgot to tell the office before it closed.”

Jeno let out a loud groan, throwing himself down onto Mark’s bed.

“Well what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

“I called the emergency number and they said they should be able to have it replaced by tomorrow morning.”

“And for tonight…?”

“That’s why I came here! To ask our lovely friends to let us sleep over in their room!”

“What?” You and Mark cried incredulously.

“No way, what the fuck how are we even supposed to all fit?” Mark rushed out.

“Easy! You and Y/n share a bed and me and Jeno share a bed!” Jaemin stated as if it were the most obvious solution in the world. “It’s not like you guys have never shared a bed before.’ He grinned mischievously. You felt a blush creep onto your face, knowing that he was more than correct.

“Ok but what about me?” Jeno spoke up.

“Oh, don’t act like we’ve never shared a bed before either.” Jaemin stated, pointing an accusatory finger at his roommate. “So, please, can you let us stay over? We’ll even pay for your dinner.” He turned towards you.

“We will?”

“You will? Well in that case, why not?” You shrugged, looking over to Mark for his approval to which he nodded in agreement.

“I don’t have my morning class tomorrow so it’s fine with me.”

“But,” you interjected, a grin making its way onto your face, “you have to watch High School Musical with us in addition to dinner.” Jeno and Jaemin both groaned but had no choice other than agreement. You ordered out for pizza, not wanting to venture outside, and camped out in front of your laptop while sat on Mark’s bed. Placing your laptop on a chair, you wormed your way into Mark’s side, his arm coming down to wrap around your side. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Jeno throw a smug glance in your direction, resulting in him receiving a swift kick in the abdomen from you. He only laughed in response, shifting his body away from you to rest his head on Jaemin’s shoulder.

Despite all of his complaints about the film, Jaemin had broke out in song during Get’cha Head in the Game, becoming the Troy to your Gabriella. Occasionally you would feel Mark’s chest vibrate, laughing at your enthusiasm for the film. As the closing credits rolled up the screen, the four of you moved your way around each other to clean up. Finally, you settled down on your bed and Mark moved to lay down next to you. He wrapped his arms around you, bringing an arm to rest securely around your head and placing a soft kiss to your forehead. A small smile found its way onto your lips and the room turned dark, Jeno turning off the lights before going to sleep on Mark’s bed.

Jaemin and Jeno left early the next morning, desperate for a change of clothes and a nice shower. Despite his class being cancelled, Mark was awake when you woke up. You gave him a quizzical look once you had cleared the sleep from your eyes.

“I went out to grab you some breakfast, I knew you were going to sleep through your alarm this morning.” He smiled shyly, placing a sweet water chestnut bun on your desk.

“Aw, Marky, thank you. That’s so sweet.” You teased, getting out of bed to hold him in a tight embrace. You hummed while closing your eyes, breathing in the scent of his laundry detergent and shampoo that lingered on his shirt.

“Don’t fall back asleep, dumbo, you still have class to go to.” He pried your arms from around his waist, placing a sharp flick to your forehead.

“Ugh fine.” You grumbled. Speedily, since you had slept through your alarm, you washed up and grabbed the bun, shoving it into your mouth and grabbing your shoes from the doorway.

“See ya later!” You chirped, placing a quick peck to his lips before heading out the door. It wasn’t until you were halfway to your classroom that you realized what you had done. You froze, dumbstruck at your actions. After a few seconds someone bumped into you, breaking you out of your state of shock. Looking at your phone, you rushed your way to class, head still fuzzy and full of embarrassment.

You didn’t go to the main gate at lunch, choosing instead to hide out at the convenience store. The other boys didn’t seem to question your absence since you received no texts from them. Of course, you had told Jeno what had happened; you trusted him not to tell the others and he was the only one who knew for certain your feelings towards Mark. It was fairly easy to avoid Mark throughout the day, although you nearly had a panic attack trying to sit as far away as possible from him during your shared class. However, you can’t run away from someone forever, especially when you’re roommates.

You had spent dinner without the boys as well, going out with some acquaintances from your morning class instead. In an attempt to stay out as long as possible, you desperately drew out the conversations. But, alas, you eventually found yourself making the trek back home. Dragging your feet along the tiled halls, you made your way towards your room. You could see light peeking through from under the door, signaling that Mark was home. With a deep breath, you punched your code into the keypad and pushed the door open. Mark was sat on his bed, already in his pajamas and scrolling through his phone. His gaze briefly flickered up to rest on you before he turned back to his phone. Anxiously, you washed up and put on your pajamas, ready to go to sleep and hopefully erase the memories of that morning. Silently you moved towards the light switch, ready to turn them off.

“Wait!” Mark’s sudden interjection broke through the previously silent air. Confusion evident on your face, you turned to find him standing in front of you. “What about my goodnight kiss?” He pouted, hands coming to rest on your waist.

Heat washed across your body as you studied his face for any traces of a joke. The anxieties that had been following you throughout the whole day were still sitting in the back of your mind, and you were always worried that your feelings were being played with. Finding no hint of humor, you leaned up towards him and hesitantly pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. A wide smile grew on his face and he wrapped his arms around your waist, whispering a soft goodnight into your hair before releasing you to turn out the lights. You stood in shock for a few more seconds before walking over towards your bed. You hardly slept that night.

❃❃❃❃

“Didn’t I tell you to get together like a month ago?” Jeno whined. “Now I’m out of thirty bucks plus I have to live with a smug ass Jaemin.”

“Fuck off.” Mark pushed at the younger’s head before bringing his arm to rest over your shoulders. Your whole group was sat in a circle on Renjun and Donghyuck’s floor, hanging out before the stress of finals season inevitably settled over the six of you. Having witnessed Mark place a light kiss to your lips, the room had immediately erupted into chaos, having never witnessed such a spectacle from the two of you before.

“Hyung I can’t believe you guys didn’t even give us a warning,” Donghyuck whined. “You can’t just do shit like that in front of us, it’s gross.”

“Oh, my bad Hyuck. Next time we’ll warn you far in advance so that you can protect your virgin eyes.” Donghyuck gave Mark a sharp glare in return, folding his arms across his chest.

“I can’t believe fucking Jaemin won the bet.” Renjun grumbled.

“You’re the dumbass who thought it’d only take three weeks.” The boy quipped back. You only laughed at all the quarreling, settling yourself further into Mark’s chest as he pulled his arms tighter around your waist.

“Do you want to get out of here? These idiots are gonna make me lose all my brain cells if we stay any longer.” Mark whispered into your ear.

“What brain cells, hyung?” Renjun called out in feigned innocence.

“Let’s go.” You laughed, standing up and grabbing Mark’s hand to help him up as well.

“Don’t leave us!” Jaemin pouted.

“Unless you’d rather watch us make out for a bit, I think we’re gonna go.” Mark replied, laughing at the resounding groans that filled the room. He grabbed your hand, pulling you out the door and bringing his hand down to your waist. You looked up at him with a smile, pressing a kiss to his jaw line.

“Where are we going?” You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder. You felt it lift in a shrug.

“It’s around dinner time, figured we could go to Hongdae and have something to eat.” You smiled at his suggestion, nodding in agreement. A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, allowing all your worries to come to the forefront of your mind. A week had passed since you had first kissed, and they had become a frequent occurrence. However, nothing official had been made between the two of you and it had been eating at you for the whole week. You didn’t want to press him in fear of ruining your current relationship.

The subway doors slid open and Mark led you in, attempting to keep you from being jostled around too much on the crowded train. Eventually, you worked yourselves into a comfortable position, Mark keeping one hand firm around your waist while the other held onto the railing in order to keep the both of you steady. He leaned down to give you a chaste kiss, lingering for a moment before pulling away. It wasn’t long before your stop arrived and the two of you piled out, weaving your way through the crowds before arriving at the exit of the subway. Mark didn’t let go of your hand as you walked around the streets of Hongdae, eventually finding a restaurant and settling down for a nice warm meal.

❃❃❃❃

“Are you almost ready?” Mark called from his bed, fiddling with the frayed edges of his ripped jeans.

“Does this look ok?” You asked in response, opening the bathroom door to model your outfit.

“We’re just meeting some of my friends, Y/n, not the president. And you look fine. I mean, you make anything look good.”

“Ha ha very funny.” You quipped back, giving yourself a final once over in the mirror. Deciding that you did, in fact, look decent, you moved over to where Mark sat. Looking up from his jeans, Mark grasped your hips in his hands and smiled up at you.

“Absolutely beautiful.” He winked, pulling himself up and the two of you out the door. “Why are you so nervous anyways?” He looked back at you, puzzlement written across his face.

“I don’t know…I mean, you’ve known some of them since, what, you were like nine? Like it seems like they’re a big part of your life and if they don’t like me then like I’ll feel weird and—”

Mark abruptly spun around to face you and you would have walked right into him if he hadn’t placed his hands on your shoulders. You opened your mouth to reprimand him for his reckless behavior but he stopped you before you could even begin.

“Y/n, they’re going to love you, ok? They’re super chill and you’re an amazing person. They have no reason not to like you!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air and nearly hitting a passerby in the head.

“Ok, ok, calm down before you decapitate someone.” You laughed, grabbing his hands to hold between the two of you. Smiling, Mark placed a kiss to your knuckles, leading the two of you to a small cafe.

“Deep breaths, ok baby?”

You smiled and gave him a quick thumbs up as he pushed the door open. Immediately spotting his friends, Mark waved and moved to sit at their table, pulling you along with him.

“Hey guys!” He grinned brightly. “This is Y/n. Y/n, this is Jaehyun, Sicheng, and Jungwoo!” You nodded in greeting, flushing lightly at their stares.

“They’re cute, Mark.” Jaehyun winked, earning himself a jab in the side from Sicheng who sat beside him.

“Oh, um thank you,” you replied shyly. “So, Mark told me you guys met when you were living in America?”

“Yea! We met at some Korean American camp thing in New York and I basically adopted him as my little brother.” Jaehyun reached across the table to ruffle Mark’s hair, forcing a groan of protest from the younger.

“And what about the rest of you?”

“Oh, we met earlier this year. We go to the same uni as Jaehyun and he wanted to introduce us to his favorite younger brother!” Jungwoo spoke up softly. “We’ve hung out a bunch since then and now we’ve all adopted him!”

“God this is so embarrassing.” Mark muttered under his breath.

“I think it’s cute!” You cooed, fixing Mark’s mussed up hair. “What university do you guys go to again?”

“Seoul National.” You froze as the prestigious name left Jaehyun’s lips.

“O-oh wow, you guys must be, really smart.”

“Ah we’re not that smart.”

“Yea, don’t worry babe once you get to know them you’ll realize they’re a bunch of idiots too. No better than our kids at Yonsei, if you ask me.” You laughed as the other three boys all gasped in offense.

“How dare you even think of comparing us to those brats! I swear, my phone still glitches when I press the space key because of the time Donghyuck tried to use it as a hammer.” Sicheng fumed, throwing his phone onto the table in order to demonstrate the damage.

“They sure are idiots, but they’re lovable idiots, as I’m sure you guys are as well.” You laughed at their shocked expressions.

“She’s mean, Mark,” Sicheng pouted, “I think she’s perfect for you.”

Mark laughed, pulling you closer into his side.

“Yea, I think she is.” He replied, giving you a quick peck on the cheek.

“Wow, so cute!” Jungwoo gushed, turning to face Jaehyun. “Why don’t you treat me like that?”

“I think I agree with those two, you guys are idiots.”

“That statement applied to you too, hyung. Don’t think you’re exempt from the label.”

Jaehyun huffed at Mark’s remark, sinking back into his seat while Jungwoo patted his head in condolence. You spent the rest of your time at the cafe chatting away, occasionally nibbling at your slice of cake while simultaneously having to bat Mark’s prying fork away from stealing a bite. Once you finished your drink you excused yourself to the bathroom. You glanced at yourself in the mirror, straightening out your appearance and heading back to your table. Before rounding the corner, you heard Jaehyun mentioning your name. Out of curiosity, you stayed in your spot, straining your ears to listen in on their conversation.

“I think Y/n’s good for you, Mark. You seem really happy, too.” You could hear the others hum in agreement and you had to spend a few more moments in your hiding place in order to tame the blush that had formed on your cheeks. Finally calmed down, you emerged from behind the corner and sa back down beside Mark. He smiled over at you, immediately wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you back into his side. You grabbed his free hand with your own, pulling it to rest snugly in his lap.

❃❃❃❃

Finals were nearly over and most of your gang had already left for their respective homes. Mark and you had made plans to travel south for a few weeks, visiting your friends along the way, before you went home to celebrate christmas with your families. Currently you were curled up next to Mark on his bed, resting after finishing the essay you had been religiously working on for the past few days. You mindlessly traced patterns over his chest, studying the rise and fall with each breath he took.

“This is nice.” He whispered, hand lovingly stroking your hair. You hummed in agreement, bringing your hand up to intertwine with his.

“Can I, can I ask you something?” You suddenly spoke out.

“You just did.” He chuckled, his laughter lightly jostling your head.

“Shut up. I mean another question.”

“Shoot.”

“Well, um…” you paused, unsure of how to phrase your question. “You know we’ve been like, going on dates and…you know…doing stuff?”

“Making out? Yea, it’s been pretty great.”

“Yea well anyways,” you continued, rolling your eyes, “I was just wondering…I mean well, you’ve never exactly asked me to be your girlfriend, I guess.”

Mark immediately sat straight up, eyes blown wide as you nearly fell off the bed.

“Oh shit holy shit wait fuck I’m so sorry.” Mark eloquently remarked, moving to aid you in resituating yourself on the bed. “Did I seriously never ask you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I seriously thought I asked you to be my girlfriend, like, the day after that first kiss.” He said quietly, bringing his hand up to rub at the back of his neck. You moved to straddle him, furrowing your eyebrows in mild exasperation.

“You idiot! I’ve been worrying the past month trying to figure this out and you’re telling me you forgot to ask me out?” You leant over, flicking his forehead.

“I’m sorry, I just really thought I’d already asked you!” He pouted, lightly rubbing the reddened area.

“You’re just lucky I love you.” You sighed.

“Oooh you looove me?” He sang, lightly tickling your sides.

Rolling your eyes, you settled back into his chest, a light smile tugging at your lips. Minutes passed in silence and you felt yourself slipping out of consciousness when Mark broke the silence.

“So are you my girlfriend now, or…?”

“Yes, you fucking idiot.”

“Ok, just checking.” He shrugged, pulling your body closer to his, snuggling into your neck as you both drifted off to sleep.

#here she is happy newyear #nct imagine #nct fluff #nct au #nct fanfic #mark imagine #mark lee imagine #mark fluff #mark lee fluff #mark au #mark lee au #nct imagines #nct scenario #mark scenario #mark lee scenario #mark lee imagines #nct college au #mark lee college au

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bugaboowritings · 6 years ago

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Tikki Talks: ABOUT PAST LADYBUG IN PARIS!- Fic

Tikki spits at fine art

This could connect to my Past!Ladybugs AU, but it fits better in what I think could happen in canon if Tikki were to talk about the past ladybug holders and their hidden history. (It builds up slowly and it’s long so enjoy)

May write a second part ....

Marinette stacked the last of her books on her shelves. Knowing very well that they wouldn’t be touched until the start of the new school year. Being dust collectors until she needed a last-minute review on the past semester.

“Can’t believe that school ended. Too fast if you ask me.” Marinette reflected. Throwing her head back to look at her red and black spotted kwami while she tucked the last bit of her commissions in a cardboard box.

“All good things must come to an end. Whether we try to stop them or not.” Tikki nibbled on her cookie. Quickly stuffing her mouth with more baked goods before Marinette could question her tone.

With her room now cleaned, Marinette could finally breathe without her anxious ideas creeping on her neck. Her room decluttered from the mess (burden) of schoolwork and commissions deadlines. Her schedule that once hung with sticky notes and reminders now was wiped off and nearly empty.

Nearly.

Of course, it still had some events here and here scattered around. Like Adrien’s rumored trip out of the country and a party that was planned before the summer break was near.

Her classmates were relaxing with their family as Marinette took the silent in her home with a grain of salt. Knowing that it could easily be revoked with a blink of an eye.

On cue, she heard her father call her down to the bakery. Marinette swiftly threw her purse around her shoulders for Tikki to join her.

Tourists were already flooding in great numbers. Whether in groups or with translators, they all enjoyed the idea of having a fresh-baked pastry for breakfast. So orders enter the counter quicker and buns were already baking in the oven for the next dozen. The heat of the machines, which could beat the burn of global warming, made the small store sweat. Sabina hastily urged her daughter to open a window or two and get started on their iced teas for the lunch rush. Marinette, doing what she was told, couldn’t help but think to herself that this wasn’t what she had in mind on how she would spend her summer break.

Free from her responsibilities from school she was bombarded with the task of keeping a business open. One that didn’t stop till the people did. Don’t get it wrong, Marinette loved working in the bakery. It was an easy way to lose her worries in the recipes and glass bowls. It was like how people ran to clear their mind or draw to help them relax. It was just hard to take in the scent of fresh cinnamon and sweet, organic fruit-fillings when someone was breathing down her neck to get their order in. Luckily, her mother could handle the customers with ease.

“Marinette, honey,” Sabine beckoned while she waved off to the last customer.

“Yeah, mom,” Marinette answered back. Cleaning up the flour she spilled on the floor.

“Why don’t you go off with your friends or get some fresh air? Last thing you need to do if worry about the bakery.” Her mother hummed. Marinette couldn't help but turn to her father. Who gave her a nod and a smile, telling her that it would be good for her to get some air.

-------

“See you in a bit then.” Marinette waved. Closing the backdoor before she overwhelmed the air-conditioning with the heat. Pulling out her phone to call up her best friend.

-------

Marinette walked the streets of Paris alone for the first time in not so long time ago. The one day she was free to make plans everyone else seemed to be busy. Alya had to take her little sisters to a summer event their school was hosting. Rose and Juleka were handling some details for Kitty Section for an upcoming gig. Mylene was on a date with Ivan. Alix was- actually she preparing to do a mural near the Louvre. Technically, Alix was working but told Marinette if she could come by to say hi. Maybe even go into the museum to check out the new exhibit her dad and older brother were working on.

Tikki peaked out her head from Marinette's bag. Taking in the warm, sunny day as she softly hummed, “It’s surprising to finally have some peace and quiet.”

“If the Effiel Tower isn't nearby then it’s not something that tourists tend to 'overflow' in this time of year,” Marinette recalled her past experiences.

"It really has changed so much," Tikki admitted. Marinette opened her mouth but quickly close it as she reached a crowded traffic light. Cars racing passed while she awkwardly stood by bystanders. Holding her tongue as the light finally turned red, allowing her to walk safely and quickly to the other side.

"Tikki, " Marinette hushed, away from curious ears. "This isn't your first time in Paris?" Holding her bag closer. "There been other ladybug holders in France, right?"

Marinette imagined the history behind her earrings. Tikki has been around since the beginning of the beginning so she could have seen when Paris was built or when France barely had its name and borders set. She could have seen the Renaissance flourished or observed both World Wars. Tikki could have been there in the French Revolution, there when Napoleon surrender or when he crowded his wife queen. Witnessed the construction of Versailles. Testified to the history books when The Hundreds' Year War took over Europe or suffered alongside Parisians as the Reign of Terror shook the streets. Tikki could have seen the things that Marinette can only read.

Tikki bit back her tongue. She mentioned the other miraculous holders that have passed to Marinette. However, never really went into detail about them. Her current holder knew a bit, but revealing the history of creation could be a bit shocking. At one point in time, finding out that a little creature like her is the god of it all have made people mad. Knowing that what they believe was wrong or had no real purpose. However, Tikki wasn't in the Middle Ages or surrounded by monks. She was at the hands of her Chosen. Someone that was picked to wear her miraculous for a reason.

Pushing out an old smile, Tikki replied: "It's better if you saw it yourself, Mari."

----- Alix was nice enough (or maybe didn't really care) to let Marinette use her admission pass. Offering it to her when Marinette explains that she needs inspiration for her upcoming designs when asked why she rushed to this part of town so quickly.

For the summer break, the museum was a bit lonely compared to its usual numbers. Better for Marinette in the end since now she doesn't have to pretend to be on her phone so she could openly speak to Tikki. Without anyone thinking she's crazy for holding a conversation with her bag.

Marinette acknowledged the obvious when she looked over the museum's map. "The only known Ladybug artifact in this building is the hieroglyphics in the Egyptian Exhibit. Which did gained some popularity thanks to the Ladyblog," She crossed her legs. "How could there be other artifacts here? Surely, they would be noticed by now. Especially with Alya investigating Ladybug."

"They're here." Tikki winked. "They just hide under the crevices of history and the impossible." Flying out of the bag and marking their destination on the map. "You just have to know where to look."

---

Marinette wrinkled the map in her hands as she walked by the paintings. All sporting diverse techniques that made pigments seem to jump out and touch her. Stepping slowly to the corner of the room to a portrait that Tikki wanted to see. Directing her to a large painting. Which didn't look that exceptional really. . .

"A Cavalier."

Marinette pulled out her phone again to type the name of the artist in the search bar. Only to meet a loading screen due to the Louvre's slow wifi. “I don’t get it, Tikki,” Marinette whispered, not helping herself as she impatiently tapped on the screen. “Why is this so personal to you?” Her mind bounced back to the hallways filled with grand and spectacular works of arts. How structures of marble were crafted to look like silk on a hot day or canvases had perfectly mirrored a queen’s flawless hair and jewels. Yet, she was here by a painting that didn’t really pique her interest. All as the internet lagged on her phone. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a peck of red flying out of her bag.

“Tikki!!” she hushed. Keeping her screams in her throat as she jumped. Throwing her hands up as her eyes widen in horror. Whipping her hair around, almost breaking her neck to see if anyone was around to witness a red bug-mouse floating up to a priceless painting.

“Tikki, there is a sign that explicitly says ‘DON’T TOUCH’! Tikki, wha-what are you doing?”

Tikki looked back at Marinette, "Showing you what hides under history.”

“Tikki, no-”

Then Tikki did it. She did the worst thing that she could ever do to a work of art. She spat on it. She spat on the painting worth more than her organs in the black market. Tikki, the god of creation, spat on a priceless, antique work of art.

Marinette felt her heart drop at that moment. As if someone dumped a weight on her poor, fragile soul making it hit the bottom of her stomach. Throwing her knees on the ground. She’s going to jail. She’s going to be charged for vandalism. Then she will be a wanted criminal. Then be imprisoned for life. Then not only be away from Adrien but never be able to ask him to the movies. With her in a small cell with no way out Hawkmoth will be able to akumatized Paris without her to stop him. Chat Noir will be forced to work harder and face the damage after an Akumas. Paris will fall in a dark reign of power. Then she will be dragged for leaving Paris when they needed her. Adrien would never want to date her. Who would blame him!? Who would want to date a criminal or a failed superhero? Then she will never have a house to call her own or three kids named Emma, Louis, and Hugo and she can forget about the pet hamster the moment she gets cuffed up and taken to-

Marinette’s anxious thought peeled the color from her face. Her anxiety could have turned her lips blue if Tikki didn’t speak up. Grabbing her holder’s attention and tongue as they awed at that Tikki has done. Yet, spitting (magic spit, of course) on the painting seemed rough and boorish but it changed the painting for the better. Or revealed a hidden layer.

What once stood a man with brown curly hair and a mustache now a woman with black wavy hair. The simple, light brown tabard turned a bright red with black ladybug-spots, ending above her knees. Underneath her tabard, was a long, white sleeved shirt with a lace collar. With trimming that Marinette wished she knew how to mimic. A black cloth corset replaced the blue that hugged her waist as the black scabbard stayed in place.

As the painting became a totally different one, Marinette only focused on her face and hands. Her pale face carried light, blue eyes that were covered with a red mask. Carrying no expression. In her gloved hands, the woman held onto something that Marinette was familiar with.

The yo-yo.

“She- she was a ladybug holder,” Marinette whispered. “She’s a Ladybug. . .”

“Marinette,” Tikki smiled. Standing proudly in front of this astonishing canvas. “I present you to La Coccinelle. A hero that once walked the streets of Paris and worn the same earrings as you.”

-----

Tikki might have lived through history when she was about to witness Marinette at the verge of making a new chapter.

-------

#ml #miraculous ladybug #my writing #tikki #tikki talks #writing #marinette dupain cheng #Mariette #ladybug #past!ladybug au #past ladybug holders #past miraculous holders #ml au #headcanon #ml headcanon #did yall see the insta accounts made for our sweet beannnnss #marinette is so cute

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sabraeal · 6 years ago

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Thy Body Under My Command

Obiyuki AU Bingo Fate/stay night AU

Some dialogue is directly from this Fate/stay night AU comic @septhi made for last year’s bingo

Dawn breaks over Wistal as it always has, pierced by the jagged teeth of the city’s skyscrapers, a dark maw awaiting the sun’s offering. Shirayuki’s hands don’t even shake as she buttons her blazer, not even when she realizes the red is the same color as the blood that had been on them only hours ago, running down the drain of the sink as she struggled to get them clean, to remove every last trace of the night that had dried on her skin.

Obi is waiting for her as always, looking entirely normal in the school’s uniform, nothing like he had last night, nearly bleeding out on the floor of the Seiran estate.

“Ojou-san,” he greets brightly, falling into step with her. “Good morning.”

Even when he’d arrived, breaking half the pots in her gardening shed, she’d never felt so shy around him so left-footed. “Good morning, Obi.”

He nods, pleased with the completion of their usual morning routine. Still, he’s quiet; ever since he -- well, since she summoned him, accidentally, afraid for her own life -- she’s known no peace, the air constantly full of his chatter.

Aren’t you Assassin? Kiki had asked, only days ago. Shouldn’t you work quietly?

Obi had only shrugged, mouth canted in that strange way of his, half mischief and half melancholy. I wonder...

But he’s been oddly silent, since last night. Almost dying does that to a person.

He keeps his normal pace, walking one step behind her -- she’s told him he shouldn’t, that despite what the rules say, he’s her partner, not her servant, but he never listens -- and when she glances at him from the corner of her eyes, sly, she sees that he’s holding himself stiffly, like he’s pulled a muscle.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks, ducking her head, trying to catch his eyes. Obi jolts in surprise, blinking away the distance in his gaze, and smiles.

“Of course, ojou-san,” he tells her, as bright as always. “It’s only a little scratch.”

Shirayuki doesn’t think having his shoulder run through is just a little scratch, but Obi is covered in scars, a record of all his victories in life. Having another must just seem like business as usual. He breathes, he gets another scar.

She eyes where his uniform gaps -- he refuses to keep it zipped outside of school; Servants may magically have the right knowledge of their current time, but it doesn’t mean they have to like it, if Obi is any indication -- catching the ragged, silvered edge of another scar.

Ah, they are records of his victories, save one. But still, she understands Obi might have trouble telling what is actually a big deal, when he’s used to relocating all his own limbs after a fight.

She doesn’t have to like it, though. “You should let me look at it.”

His eyes round. “Now?”

Cars zoom past them on the street, the high school just visible at the bottom of the hill. They are the farthest away they can be from private.

And yet here he is, pulling at the zipper on his uniform with a sigh, as if she is the incorrigible one --

“No, not now!” she protests, waving her hands, trying to find an angle to shield his undress. She should have known better that to insinuate he needed to take his clothes off, not when he’s always looking for an opportunity to offer. “I meant tonight. At home.”

“Really, ojou-san,” he sighs, zipping his uniform jacket. “It’s not a big deal.”

Shirayuki tilts her chin up, trying to look down her nose on him; a plan that is ruined by the six extra inches he has on her.

“How about you let the mage decide what’s important, Assassin,” she tells him, feigning haughtiness. The both of them know she’s just barely scraping the requirements, and half of her clout is just the fact that he exists.

Obi laughs, shaking his head. “Of course, Master. I shall defer to your superior wisdom.”

“Good.” She levels him with the sort of rich girl glare only Kiki could pull off without looking entirely ridiculous. “I’m glad you understand how these things work.”

His mouth twitches, just at one corner and -- and it’s impossible to keep up the act, if he’s going to break like this! Her giggle bursts out of her, and his follows, making her duck her chin, cheeks flushed.

“Ah, ojou-san,” he sighs, rubbing at the back of his head. “A mage like you should have been matched with one of the noble classes.”

Shirayuki blinks. “What would make you say that?”

For a moment he stills, but then he shoves his hands in his pockets, giving her his most self-deprecating smile. “Ah, well, you like to leap before you look. Someone like Mitsuhide-danna would at least keep you safe during hair-raising things like that.”

She gives him a reproachful look. “You keep me safe just fine.”

A breath huffs out of him, doubt etched on every line of his face. “You’d do better in this game with someone more suited to your...style.”

“Well.” She puffs up her chest, trying to seem like an authority, to live up to the title Master, even if the top of her head is only level with his chin. “You’ve got me, and I’m not giving up on you. Or the Holy Grail.”

“Haah.” He looks like she’s punched him. “Right.”

“Come on.” She nudges him with her shoulder. “We don’t want to be late.”

He lags slightly behind her as they walk down the hill, and when she sneaks a look at him from the corner of her eyes, she sees his hand lift, sees it settle on his shoulder and squeeze.

There are only a handful of people she can go to for -- for Master things; it’s not like her father left her anything, and nearly any mage worth their salt has summoned up a Servant for this War, but --

There’s at least one in her corner.

“Have you seen Obi?”

Zen looks up from his bento; it’s pale pink, rice balls shaped into smiling kitty faces and fruits pressed into flowers and hearts. Not something the Wisteria’s fifty-year-old French chef would have made for him, no matter how good a mood he woke up in this morning. Shirayuki forbids herself from thinking too hard about which girl in their class did. He is the class prince; it would be more of a surprise to see him without a stack of lunches, carefully prepared by his bolder admirers.

That doesn’t make this, well, more comfortable.

“Wasn’t he just here?” He blinks, craning his neck to look at Obi’s empty seat. “Did you lose him already? You should really keep a tighter rein on him. If you’re caught without your Servant --“

“Yes.” She knows all too well what happens when she lets Obi wander away from her side. “I -- he’s just talking to Kiki.”

Zen leans back, and she knows the moment when he sees him; something subtle in his face relaxes, and his mouth spreads into a smile. It’s nice see, but --

But she knows that Zen must wonder if Obi was meant to be his, if she hadn’t bumbled along, summoning the last Servant out from under him. It’s better this way -- at least now it won’t be him facing off against his brother at the end of this war, deciding how much blood it would take for the Grail to appear, but...still. Whenever he allows himself that wistful expression, she just feels like an interloper that stumbled into this whole magic business, even if her father is some -- some famous mage.

After all, it’s not like he prepared her for any of this.

“I meant, have you looked at him today?” she clarifies, wishing she sounds less shrill, less unsure.

At least Zen doesn’t seem to notice; he just turns grim, assessing. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She shrugs with her whole body, at a loss. “Obi says he’s fine, but -- something doesn’t feel right. And he seems...stiff, I guess. Not moving like how he usually does.”

They both peer out the door, watching him talking animatedly with Kiki. He’s all chaotic motion, limbs flying everywhere as he tells his story, Kiki’s mouth curling up into a reluctant smile. Part of her is glad to see it, happy he’s making friends, that he can charm even stoic Kiki Seiran into liking him, but --

But the other part does not miss his wince when he gestures a hair too far, does not miss how his hand flies to his shoulder, rubbing it as if it aches.

Zen settles back, mouth thin. “Hm.”

“Hm?” She drops into the seat next to him. “What does that mean?”

“It just...doesn’t look like it healed,” he remarks, and Shirayuki just bites back, oh, do you think? He’s trying to help her, she’s just -- impatient. If Obi’s in pain she wants to help him now, not after Zen is done leading her down the garden path.

“Why?” she says instead. “It’s never taken so long.”

“Rider’s hit must have damaged some of his magic circuitry.” Zen stares out the door, mouth twisting with concern. “He can’t passively get enough mana from you to both exist and heal. And since your summoning was well --” a complete and utter accident -- “untraditional...”

“He can’t go incorporeal and heal himself that way.” Shirayuki lets out a long breath and nods. “How do I fix it?”

“Well,” Zen drawls, suddenly too much like his brother. “If you were a trained mage, you could do it through active transfer, but --” he glances at her, guilty -- “I don’t think you have those sorts of skills.”

She could have, if only her father had stuck around to teach her properly. “There isn’t another way?”

“Um.” Zen’s face flushes, eyes darting to look anywhere else but at her. “N-no! I think you just might, ah, have to, you know, let it...heal itself?”

Her mouth pulls thin. “How long will that take?”

“Ah...” Zen grimaced. “I don’t know, exactly. But...a while.”

“Oh.” Her hands clench in her skirt. This is the Holy Grail War. As little as she likes it, she needs him in top condition now, if they’re both going to survive.

Zen shrugs, but it’s stiff, like he had an itch. “Don’t worry, Shirayuki,” he says, hardly sincere. “I’m sure it will work itself out.”

After running into Rider, Shirayuki can’t say she’s too confident in that. Especially not with two other servants unaccounted for.

His hand rests gently on her shoulder, and he smiles so kindly when she meets his eyes. “Kiki will protect you.”

Chain-link bites into the soft flesh of her fingers, but Shirayuki doesn’t let go, just rests her body on the fence. She’s so light it barely chimes at all. The baseball field is empty this evening with curfew still in place, and she can’t help but think that if she hadn’t been in the wrong place, that if she hadn’t gotten so lucky, she would be at home now too, worrying about all the strange deaths in Wistal.

Now she doesn’t have to. She knows exactly who is causing them, what is causing them.

Maybe she would have been happier not.

Obi laughs, dodging another of Mitsuhide’s heavy blows. He’s not in uniform anymore, instead in his battle gear, skin-tight and cape fluttering, mouth canted in a cocky grin, and --

And even so, she can’t make herself regret this. Any of it.

Obi falls for Mitsuhide’s feint, only just saving himself with a quick cut of his short sword. Metal hits metal with a shriek and --

And Obi flinches, his other hand coming up to grasp his shoulder until he stops himself, until he shakes it off.

Shirayuki grimaces. She doesn’t regret anything, save for that.

“That hasn’t healed well,” Kiki remarks, fence jingling as she comes to lean beside her.

“No,” she agrees, watching as Mitsuhide stops, leaning in to clap Obi on the shoulder. The other one, she can’t help but notice. “Zen says his magic circuitry must be damaged after last night.”

Kiki eyes her with a blend of wariness and incredulity that she is coming to realize is distinctly Kiki’s. Shirayuki bites her lip, pretending that her attention is fully on the fight, not -- not thinking about how she’s so tired of being treated like she’s, well, stupid.

Intellectually, she knows that despite their truce, Kiki is an enemy, one she shouldn’t be handing over her weaknesses to on a platter. But at the same time, she’s the only other person she can talk to, whose ideas on the bond of Servant and Master aren’t just all academic. Zen can help her only so far, but Kiki -- Kiki has practical knowledge, as much as someone can have, without having already survived a Grail War.

That’s the kind of information Shirayuki could only get from her father. Too bad he isn’t around to give it.

“Aren’t you going to fix it?”

Shirayuki blinks. “Zen said it would fix itself, with time.”

Time they don’t have.

“We don’t have that kind of time,” Kiki tells her, as if she weren’t already aware. “He needed to be fixed yesterday. You, of all people, can’t have your Servant be weak like this.”

Shirayuki ducks her chin, hoping Kiki can’t see the flush across her cheeks. She’s well aware that she has limitations the rest of them don’t have, that she doesn’t belong in this war of mages, that she barely belongs in magical society in general. Even if her dad did, it wasn’t as if he’d left any of that for her, not like how Kiki is branded with the Seiran crest, the culmination of every mage her family has ever produced.

And if she ever forgot, Obi was always around to remind her. She was lucky; as soon as she’d put the school uniform on him, Obi had transformed from deadly assassin to handsome school boy. If she’d summoned a Servant like Mitsuhide --

Well, it was good Kiki was a top-notch mage. Shirayuki wasn’t even sure the uniforms came that big.

“I’m not a real mage,” Shirayuki reminds her, every word like a knife. “I can’t do a transfer spell.”

“I know that.” Kiki waves her hand, as if she hadn’t even considered the option. “Why don’t you just do it the other way?”

Shirayuki’s head snaps toward her. “There’s another way?”

Kiki stares, at a loss for words. “Zen didn’t tell you?”

She shakes her head. “He said there wasn’t one.”

“Well,” Kiki drawls, voice thick with sarcasm, “isn’t that surprising.”

“Please,” Shirayuki pleads, fingers catching in Kiki’s sleeve, making her eyes as big and desperate as she can. “Do you know another one? I can’t leave Obi like this.”

For a long moment, Kiki stares at her, considering. It reminds her of the only time she’s met Izana, his icy eyes taking her in without comment and assessing her threat to him.

Kiki must come to the same conclusion as him and sighs.

“Mana is in you, Shirayuki.” She eyes her warily. “Are you sure no one has ever taught you this? Not at all?”

“No,” she says with an emphatic shake of her head. “I was raised by my mother’s parents. They didn’t know anything about magic.”

Kiki lets out a long breath, utterly still beside her.

“Mana is in every part of you,” she says after a moment, softer, as if she were trying to teach a child. “That’s why some mages sell their blood when the family fortune runs out. I hear it sells for a hefty bit of cash.”

“Why would people buy it?” Shirayuki asks, wide-eyed.

“To drink, of course.” Kiki says it as if it were the most obvious thing in the word, as if she were the silly one for thinking someone wouldn’t drink blood.

“People drink mage blood?” Somehow, out of all the supernatural reveals she’s been privy to over the last few days, it’s this one that is the most outlandish. “Why?”

“For power.” Kiki shakes her head. “There’s no limit to what a mage will do for power. You should know this, after last night.”

Her mouth thins. Yes, she’s learned that lesson all too well, now.

“So, I just need him to drink my blood?” She’s not sure how he’ll take that request; in terms of things she could ask him, Master to Servant, it’s mild, but still. “How much? Is it just a few drops, or should I be worrying about getting needles and syringes?I think the nurse might let me have a tourniquet if --”

“Shirayuki,” Kiki laughs, waving her hand. “There’s a much, much easier way.”

She considers the bodily fluids she has available to her and decides, “I really don’t think I could spit in his mouth.”

Kiki stares. “That was absolutely not about to be my next suggestion, but thank you for that delightful image that will almost certainly haunt me for years to come.”

“Does it have something to do with crying?” she asks, even more confused. There can’t be anything easier than that, though crying enough tears to drink seems like an insurmountable task.

“Shirayuki, no.” Kiki’s lips twitch. “That is not what I meant.”

“Well,” she sighs, frustrated. “I’m fresh out of bodily fluids!”

She does not like the way Kiki’s lip quirks. “Are you?”

“Oh,” Shirayuki murmurs, too short a time later. “Oh.”

Kiki’s teeth flash in a feral smile. “I thought that might be your reaction, yes.”

“I’m supposed to--” the words won’t come -- “and he’d supposed to...?”

“Yes.” Kiki stiffens beside her, tense. “After we fought Berserker, my mana was just barely keeping Mitsuhide together. His circuits were far too damaged, and unless I wanted to weaken myself trying to force the mana into him...”

“Oh.” She’s never heard Kiki talk like this, admit she was anything other than utterly prepared for any eventuality. It’s...nice to know she’s human too, even if she’s also a world-class mage, destined to be picked up by the Clock Tower after this is all over. “I hadn’t even realized.”

“No, you wouldn’t have.” Her mouth curls with satisfaction. “He recovered...quite nicely, afterward.”

“Are you going to work, ojou-san?” Obi asks as he walks out of the changing room, uniform jacket still half unzipped. Above the vee of his t-shirt, the raised ridge of his death scar peeks out. She’s seen his clothes ripped to ribbons, blood coating his skin, but she’s never seen the whole of that scar, never seen the thing that killed him.

But she would, if she listened to Kiki.

She jolts, shaking her head. She can’t think about this right now, not when he’s talking to her. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” His fingers tug at the zipper, and she -- she’s always noticed how long his fingers are, how slender, but now her skin feels hot looking at them, thinking of the way he could so easily hold her in those hands, how his grip is so strong she could bruise -- “Just give me a minute, and I can --”

“No!” This is -- she needs to think about this, and she just can’t if he’s around, making things -- things difficult. “You should go home and rest. I can take care of myself for a night.”

“Ojou-san,” he protests, mouth pulling into a hard, disapproving line, and --

And she should really, really not be thinking about how easy it would be to wipe that expression off his face. These are not very -- very Masterly thoughts.

“You’re already hurt,” she tells him. “And you need to keep up your strength. We don’t know who the other two mages are, or their Servants.”

“That’s the perfect reason for me to --”

“If they haven’t come for us already, they don’t know who we are.” She thinks of Rider, of how he and his mage are still out there, nursing their wounds. “Or they are waiting for the rest of us to kill each other. Either way, they aren’t going to be checking a drug store for a Master.”

“Everyone needs aspirin, ojou-san,” he protests, but he knows she’s right. Mages are used to power and money; her after school job is the best cover she never asked for. Even Kiki had been surprised.

“If anything happens, I can just call you to me.” She lifts her hand, showing him the jagged lines on the back of her hand. One of them is already smudged and dim, a legacy from their less than ideal first meeting. He scowls when he sees it.

“It would be better if you didn’t waste a Command Seal to get me,” he tells her. “You’ve already done that once.”

“I wouldn’t have had to, if you had been nice,” she reminds him.

“I was stubborn.”

“Telling me I’m your Master, and then saying I’m too stupid to command you isn’t stubborn,” she says with a quelling look. “It’s mean.”

His mouth curves, gaze tilting down, and she knows he’s laughing at himself. “No arguments here, ojou-san.” He slides his hands into his pockets with a resigned sigh. “All right, I’ll heal at home. But you’ll call me if anything happens.”

She puts her hand on his elbow, drawing his gaze down her. Maybe it’s just the light, but his eyes seem more amber today, like melted honey instead of cold coin.

Now is a really bad time to notice that.

“Always,” she tells him with a smile. His narrow brows arch upward and -- and he smiles too, warm and trusting.

That-- that’s not fair, him being so handsome. “I’ll be waiting, ojou-san.”

“I’m home,” Shirayuki calls out, toeing her shoes off into the waiting tray. Obi’s shoes are there as well, scuffed up Oxfords Kiki thought her father wouldn’t miss, but the house itself is dark, cold.

Dread claws at her, but she pushes it down, lets reason rule her instead of fear and habit. There’s still a draw on her mana, tiring but satisfying, an invigorating buzz just under her skin. He’s nearby, he’s safe.

She pads into the main house, socks muffling her footsteps as she makes her way across the wood floor, first looking into the kitchen, then into his room, then into hers. All of them lay empty, though his room does have his school bag on the floor, and his school uniform balled up in the hamper. There’s only one other place he could possibly be.

There’s a flagstone path to the dojo, and Shirayuki hops along it, wincing as she nearly misses a step, toe scraping into the gravel. She’s lost enough stockings already to this Grail War, she’s rather not have another casualty just walking across her own yard.

The door slides easily under her hands; only a week ago it had barely moved, swollen and crooked from disuse, but now it glides silently on its path, planed and reset by Obi’s own hands. It’s the same for the rest of the dojo; tatami replaced and floors shined, looking like it must have back when her father still used it. Obi’s only been here days, and already this place has been changed.

She doesn’t like to think what will happen when he leaves. After all, the Grail War can’t last forever.

The dojo is dark inside, just like the rest of the house, but her eyes adjust quicker this time, used to the dim. It takes her no time at all to make out his shape knelt over on the floor, oddly broad shoulders tapering down to a lean waist, the sort of body made for dexterity, not power.

That only reminds her of what Kiki said, of that -- that other way to heal him, and she had to grip the door to keep from bolting, from just pivoting on her heel and flying back to the house. She could just -- pretend she was asleep. That was a good excuse to give to Kiki tomorrow. She’d just fallen asleep --

“Ahh,” he hisses, palm slapping the floor. “Fuck.”

His fingers dig into the mat, rigid with pain. She blinks, chest clenching as she follows the tension up the stark lines of his arm to his shoulder, to where he sits, body contorted, one hand clenching at his wound. It’s hard to see his his face in the dark, but his teeth gleam, mouth pulled into a grimace.

She’s never seen him like this before, never seen him weak. “Obi?”

He jolts, hand dropping at lightning speed. He spins around, a bright smile painted on his face. There’s no hint of the agony she saw, no tell-tale wince or grimace. It is as if it were a dream, a nightmare borne of her own guilt.

It is too bad for him that she knows for certain that she is awake. In fact, she has never been less tired in her life.

“Ojou-san! You’re back.” His mouth widens into a playful grin. “Welcome home!”

She stares. There is nothing else she can do, now when she knows that all of this is -- is little more than kabuki, an act played out for solely her benefit. Obi is in pain, in agony, and here he sits on his knees, pretending that all is well, that he can keep her safe, while all the while the guilt must be gnawing at him, anxiety building as he wonders when the next Master will attack, what death he will have to defy with such a painful handicap.

He twists, turning to face her, and his t-shirt gapes, letting her see that ragged scar across his chest, the wound that set him in the record. The one where he was left bleeding and alone in a forest while he died. No one helped him then, and now --

Now that decides her.

Her bag hits the floor with a thunk, books spilling out from the top, scattering across the tatami, but she doesn’t care, doesn’t even think of it. She just takes a step forward, up into the dojo, and then another, and then another, until it’s just rhythm, until it’s just the pounding of her heart.

“Ojou-san?” His amber eyes watch her warily, concern and confusion mingling as his hands lifting to catch her hips, to stop her, but she drops to her knees before he can. His hands settle on her shoulders instead, loose and unsure, as if he hasn’t touched her before, as if he hasn’t just lifted her straight off the ground and leapt across the city with her in his arms.

Or maybe it’s because he hasn’t touched her like this, without danger and necessity dodging their steps. He hasn’t touched her because he wants to. But he does, he does, she can see it right in his eyes, in the way his hands hover as if she’s too precious to touch.

That won’t do at all.

“Ojou-san?” he tries again, a nervous quiver lifting his pitch. “What’s h--haah.”

His breath puffs into her mouth as she closes the distance between them, as she threads her hand behind his neck and drags him down. His dry lips meet hers, and there’s -- there’s something, a spark, and she leans in to chase it --

He jerks back, like he’s been shocked, hands leaping from her to clench on his lap. His bones shine stark white against the bronze of his skin, turned silver in the moonlight. She’s always been fascinated with the human body, with the composition of the skeleton and the way muscles and tendons cling to bone, but this is the first time she’s ever thought it was beautiful.

“Ojou-san!” His chest heaves, knocking against the arm that still holds him. Her thumb brushes over the arch of his cheekbone, and she can feel the heat against her skin, even if the light won’t let her see it. “What -- what are you--?”

Her fingers hook into the thick bristle of his hair, shivering as it tickles her palms, and she draws him down again.

He groans against her mouth, a pained, broken thing. Heat spikes unbearably in her, spearing the place between her legs, and her hand clenches with a whimper. If it pains him, he doesn’t let it slow him; instead he just cants his head, swallowing the sound down, tongue flicking through the space it’s left, licking teasingly against her teeth and she -- she wriggles, the dull ache of her sex too insistent to ignore.

It’s -- it’s a lot. More than she’s used to, with her experience limited to prime time TV and daydream.

Shirayuki sits back on her heels slowly, their lips parting with a gentle pop that makes her want to lean back in, that makes her want to try Obi’s trick with his tongue against his own lips --

But she doesn’t. She sits, she waits. Finally, he opens his eyes with a rasping breath, his gaze clouded with confusion.

And desire, she realizes with a hitch of her own breath. His eyes are on her lips, and she knows he’s thinking the same as her, that there’s both too little and too much space between them.

She reaches out, drawing his hand into her own, and taps his wrist. It’s the only thing that gets him to look away, that makes him focus where she needs him to -- though maybe not where she wants him --

“Oh,” he breathes, and this time, it’s easy to see the pink sitting high along his cheekbones, what with the way his circuit in glowing. “Oh.”

She looks down, watching it pulse faintly, like a heartbeat. The same one she can feel fluttering beneath her fingertips, as wild as her own. Ah, he may only be a hero’s spirit, but right here, right now, he’s human enough.

“Kiki told me there was another way to heal you.” Her thumb rubs gently over the skin of his wrist, wondering at how it is as thin and delicate as any other person’s. It’s so easy to forget that despite his power, despite his past, in this form he’s just like any other man.

“Haah.” He’s tense under her, as if he wants to pull away, but he doesn’t, just lets her pet at his pulse, motionless. “Kiki-jou, huh? That’s...unexpected.”

“I can’t do the ritual.” The shame burns at her even now. “I’m not enough of a mage --”

“Ojou-san!” Obi frowns, shaking his head. “You are as much of a mage as any--”

“Obi,” she says quietly, gently, and he calms. “It’s all right.”

“I know. I just...” His hand twists in hers, until their palms touch, until he can wrap his fingers around hers and squeeze. “You are enough, ojou-san. You have always been enough.”

Her chest is too tight, too small to contain both her breath and her heart together, and so it bursts out of her in a graceless pant.

“I can’t do the ritual,” she tries again, the words little more than a whisper. “But I can do something else. Something less complex.”

“Well,” he wheedles, “I wouldn’t say less complex --”

Kiki had said that it was a waste of a seal, that a true Master compelled obedience through the contract, through their power, but Shirayuki had none of that when Obi arrived, cocky and insubordinate. She knows now that such a vague command should have never worked, should have been useless with her inexperience --

But it hooked into Obi strongly that night, remained strong in him even now. She’s always been so careful since, using will you instead of do this, wording simple requests in a way that allows him the chance to say no.

But she doesn’t now.

“Tell me the truth.”

The command thrums through him, thrums through the both of them, but it’s different than before. It was not a whip crack but a whisper, not grasping hands but a come-hither look that leaves pleasure fizzling under her skin.

One look at Obi tells her that her own reaction is just backlash, just a ghost of what he feels; his head is thrown back, eyelashes fluttering at half-mast, breath laboring out of him in ragged pants.

“Yes,” he gasps. “Yes, it will heal me.”

“Good.”

It’s her that tugs on his hand, that draws him back to her, but it’s him that groans against her mouth, hands clutching at the back her head as if he’s adrift, as if he’s drowning, and only her kisses are keeping him afloat. Funny, since it’s her that is lost, her that is clutching to his jeans, to his shirt, trying to hold herself to the earth as his lips move against hers, as his tongue once more slides into her, licking at her teeth, coaxing her own to move against his.

Her neck aches as she tries to chase his kisses, tries to extended that delicious frisson of their lips meeting and parting. He shifts to get closer, knee brushing hers, and it occurs to her all at once that this is too far, that this polite distance between their bodies is not only unnecessary, but unwanted.

Her hands reach out blindly, feeling along the floor until she brushes his thighs, feels the worn denim underneath her palms. He gasps against her lips at the touch, and she puts her hands flush against him, kneading the muscles beneath with enough strength to make him moan, to make him pull away with a laugh.

“What do you think you’re doing, ojou-san?” he murmurs, kissing at the corner of her mouth. “Causing trouble?”

Her eyes narrow at that, at the way he laughs as if the thought of her trying to -- to incite something is ridiculous, and she crawls forward, laying one knee on either side of his lap.

“If I am?” she asks, staring down at him, relishing the way his mouth has slacked and his pupils have gone wide.

“Please,” he breathes, pulling her down to him, bringing her flush against his lap. “Don’t stop.”

His thighs feel like steel under her, and she cannot help but think about how close she is to him, how so few layers keep her from what Kiki had described in detail, and --

And she wants it. That.

Obi’s hands smooth up the backs of her legs, slender fingers dragging against her stockings. His smile curls against her lips as she whimpers into his mouth, until --

Until he hits the end of them, just higher than mid-thigh, and lets out a noise more fit for a wounded animal than a man. He grips her thighs hard, bruising, as if he’s trying to control himself, to keep from taking her right there.

Now it is her turn to smile, to gently pry each finger on one of his hands off her thigh and glide it up, past where here stockings end, and hook one tip under the elastic of her panties.

“Ojou-san?” he murmurs, confused, hopeful. In the darkness, his eyes still shine amber.

“Take them off.”

“Are--?”

“Take them off.”

The rip is deafening in the dojo.

“Did you--?” She gapes, looking at the ragged remains of her kitten panties in his hand, at the mischievous smile on his face. “Did you tear them?”

“You told me to take them off, ojou-san,” he says far too innocent, tossing the offending fabric far into the dojo, out of sight.

“Those cost 2000 yen,” she protests breathlessly, distracted by the drag of his fingers up her thighs, to the throbbing heat between them. He cups her ass in both of his hands and squeezes. “Obi!”

“You should have been more specific, ojou-san.” His thumbs tease her, right where her thighs meets her body, so close to where she wants them, but not there. “Your wish, after all, is my command.”

“I’m pretty sure my command is your command,” she tells him, grabbing at his hand. She drags it over the front of her thigh, placing his fingertips right over her slit. “Touch me, Obi.”

His jaw drops, breath rushing out of him all at once, and for a moment, he sits there, frozen. She presses her hand against his, dropping an encouraging kiss against his lips and finally, finally, he moves.

A finger parts her folds, and this -- this all seemed like a good idea just a moment ago, when the heat from just his kisses had left her throbbing and tight, but now two of his fingers trace her slit, teasing the tight bud of her clit, and --

And it’s so much worse; his touch leaves her gasping against his shoulder, pulling at the fabric of his shirt, trying anything to get him closer, faster. He hums, too pleased with himself, and when she lifts her head to -- to tell him something, if only he’ll stop teasing -- he slips a single finger in.

“Aah!” She yanks at his shirt, pulling up at its hem until he’s half tangled in it, collar over his head, sleeves stuck at the elbows.

“Ojou-san,” he laughs, dragging that finger her out of her so slow, making sure she feels every second of it. “So impatient.”

Her face is already flushed, but it burns now as she watches his stomach flex, as she sees the white cotton fall away to find the glow beneath it is blinding. The moment her shirt leaves his hands, sailing on the same trajectory as her destroyed panties, she grabs him, urging his fingers inside as she bears down, tongue licking into his slack mouth.

She can hardly think with him touching her like this; with one finger it had been a tease, but two makes her think of the thing pressing hard against her thigh, straining against the denim of his jeans, and she wants it, wants him in her so badly it’s a palpable need.

Her fingers trace down his chest, hesitating at the scar bisecting his chest. It’s an ugly thing, flesh knotted and poorly healed. The cut that killed him.

Shirayuki brushes it idly, her need cooling as she considers it, and the pulse of his fingers slow so that he can watch her.

“I wish,” she says, so soft, “that you hadn’t been alone.”

She bends down and presses her lips to it, gentle.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, and it’s all the warning she has before he grabs her, dragging her mouth to his, and devours.

The way he moves in her leaves her gasping, panting, mindless, her own hands desperately sliding down smooth skin and raised scars and burning circuits to the dark trail of hair on his belly. She hooks one finger around the waistband of his jeans, thumb rubbing thoughtfully at the button and --

And Obi jerks away from her, leaving her empty, hot.

“We don’t need to do more than this,” he tells her, panting beneath her hands. His own hover awkwardly at her sides, as if he’s afraid to touch her, as if he’s afraid he won’t be able to stop, if he does. “This is -- this will be enough.”

“Do you not want to?” She’s not sure how she’s still talking, with so little air in her lungs.

Obi lets out a weak laugh, gaze fixed to where her shirt gapes open and the soft cups of her bra are bared. Ah, so his other hand has been busy too. “Oh, ojou-san, doesn’t every man want to --?”

“Obi.” Her hand presses down against the bulge, watching as his eyes rolls back, his jaw going slack. “Tell me the truth.”

That frisson goes through them again, and he twitches hard against her thigh. “Yes. I want to.” His hands grip at her waist, kneading. “I want you.”

His admission bares him to her more than nakedness, and she -- she could not be more ready for him, wet slicking her thighs, her fingers fumbling at the button of his jeans. She’s not strong, not like Obi, but Shirayuki nearly puts a rent next to his zipper trying to work him free. He’s laughing into her mouth, hands busy with her own blouse, confounding matters when he drags it down her shoulder, tangling in her elbows, and she --

She doesn’t have time for this. Shirayuki lets go one him with a growl, shucking her shirt to the floor, but she’s back on him the moment she’s free of it, one hand flicking open the button, the other working the zipper.

He gasps, breath catching in his throat as she wraps her hand around his cock; she pumps him once and his hips nearly clear the floor.

Ah, he may act smug, but Shirayuki doubts there’s much of this happening in the heroic record. It’s nothing to sit over him, to guide him right to where she needs him and --

Oh! The pinch is sharp, though not unpleasant, but it does give her pause, makes her wonder if this is a -- a larger undertaking than she’s prepared for.

“Ah, ojou-san.” Just the tip of him is in her, but Obi is panting against her chest, kissing every inch of skin he can reach, moaning as if he could come from just this. “Ojou-san, don’t -- don’t --”

She widens the set of her knees, dropping down another inch, and his hands fly to her thighs, digging in with a grip hard enough to bruise. A wounded sound tears from his chest with each uncomfortable inch she takes, and she -- she should mind this strange sensation, this stretching, but instead those noises go straight to her head, straight to where her heat clenches around him, and --

And then stops. Her legs can’t part any more, not while she still expects them to hold her, but she’s not -- not full. She gives a tentative, shallow thrust, trying to see if she can work herself any further down and -- haah, that...that could feel good, if there was only more of it, if only she could take him further in.

Obi’s hands ease on her thighs, gently stroking her with each of her experimental thrusts. He buries his head in the cook of her neck, panting harshly against her collar. Still, she can feel it in him, that want to grab her, to take her --

This isn’t enough, she knows. He would never say so, but her hand is still clasped around the rest of him, and she -- she wants that, wants all of him, wants to know what noises she could wring from him if she did.

Her palm presses to his chest, and his head jerks up, eyes clouded with confusion and desire, but -- but he falls back at her gentle urging, down and down until his shoulders are on the floor and she could sink down on him until--

Ohh, yes, that -- that was better. The stretch is still uncomfortable, but also -- decadent, a pleasure that makes heat rush to her sex, that starts her on a slow, steady rhythm.

A laugh rumbles from Obi’s chest, a pleasant vibration beneath her hands, and then his own are on her, gripping her hips, guiding her into one that’s faster, that makes her drag along him rather than bounce and --

Ah-haah, that is -- is good. Pleasure sparks along her skin, building, building, until it all at once becomes enough, becomes too much --

And through the blinding force of her release, she can feel it, feel the way her energy runs into him, the way it’s filling him --

And the way he fills her in turn, leaving her gasping against his chest, cheek pressed to dewy skin. It takes her a minute to come back to herself, to feel the pressure at her scalp, her back. To realize that he is stroking her as he softens inside her, whispering things that are less words and more sounds, like the way a man might calm an animal, a child.

She might be offended, if she didn’t look, didn’t meet his eyes as see him look at her as if she is not only his master, but -- but his world. “Ojou-san?”

“I think,” she says, words feeling strange and tingly on her tongue. “you should really call me Shirayuki now.”

Obi returned to the baseball field with a spring in his step, waving to his opponent as he saunters across the diamond. “Mitsuhide-danna!”

“Obi.” The Saber nods, gaze sweeping over him. “That arm is moving much better today.”

“What can I say?” Obi shrugs, a grin so salacious pulling at his lips that Shirayuki is sure everyone can tell what they’ve done. “I let ojou-san take good care of me.”

Kiki lets a smirk curl her lips, giving Shirayuki an all-too knowing look. “I just bet you did.”

#obiyukibingo2019 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #LEMON #fate/stay night AU #my fic #ans #listen if i was gonna write a fate AU #you better believe i was going to take it back to its h-game roots #although it took like 5K to get to the actual sex because I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL #also clearly i have thought about this whole AU far too much #but basically Shirayuki uses her first command seal the same way rin does #although her summoning happens more like Shirou's #but since mukaze's family were mages she actually has some gift for magic #though she's never been trained

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tyramir · 6 years ago

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I Hate Canada in the Winter

The nights are so much darker now. So much quieter. The snow deadens all sound, and threatens to not just swallow it up, but you as well. The ice is a silent killer, waiting for the smallest of missteps to carry you down, down. The salt we use to fight it claws at your skin, burrowing in, itching away and waiting for you to scratch back.

On a night last year, I walked through one of these darkest nights. I was off to work. I live in a large city, so loud at day, but terrifyingly quiet at night. With so many people sheltered inside against the cold, it becomes so lonely so very fast.

I strode beneath street lights, overhanging beacons marking my way. My shadow would stretch before me, only to lag behind and then trail after me as I passed beneath my only protection from these starless nights. The only sound, at first, was the crunching of snow beneath my feet as I strode. Lost to my thoughts, I walked ignorantly through what would become one of the most terrifying nights of my life.

I counted my steps as I walked, marking off each by the tell-tale sound of snow crushed beneath my feet. There was little else to do in the cold, beyond think of what it would be like to get inside where it was warm. Better not to focus on those thoughts, or else the ice would sink in deeper.

But soon, I noticed, my count was not lining up with the steps I had taken. It took me a moment to realize why. There were sounds behind me, the steps of someone approaching behind, walking faster than I.

I discounted them, but I felt an oppressive weight behind me. Something lurked just behind my shoulders, and I did not like what it was.

So I slowed my gait, hoping my follower would pass.

Their echoing footsteps slowed as well.

I looked to the ground, to see my shadow stretch before me as the lighting changed, and saw just the top of a shadow reach beside me. The stranger’s head, no doubt, but something about it bothered me more. I moved forward quicker.

And the steps that followed pursued, matching pace.

Something in my blood panicked. It raced. Every instinct in my body told me not to look behind, not to see what was there. Ahead, there was a turn up to a major intersection. If I just made it there, where cars could see me, I would be safe.

I walked as fast as I dared. The snow gave traction, but underneath was sheer ice. If I moved too quickly, it could easily give way to a fall. And something told me not to run. Running would bring the game -- and at this point, something told me I was being made sport of -- to its next stage, the chase. I could not show fear, even if fear was all I felt.

The-steps-that-followed matched my speed. I could hear them echo my own. Whatever this was intended to be just a step behind.

Light overhead passed, and the shadow behind retreated, though the steps did not. Even with the dark shade gone, I could feel it grasping at my heels, waiting to drag me down, down onto the ice.

I made it to the intersection. Ahead, I could see cars. I turned there, to get to my bus stop, my supposed sanctuary just down this new street. And as I did, I looked at the path I had just taken.

There was no one. Nothing at all behind me, except my own footprints in the snow, and nothing else.

#winter #horror #true story #writing

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wolfpawn · 6 years ago

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Once Bitten, Twice Shy Chapter 10

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary - Tom and Paige go to aunt Geraldine's party together and Tom realises more and more how much he enjoys her company.

Tag, @wolfsmom1 @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @standing-onthe-edge

anyone else who wishes to be added to the tags, just ask :)

Paige sat beside Tom at the table feeling incredibly out of place.

She was at the family get together that Diana and Sarah had badgered her into going to for aunt Geraldine. She had been introduced to a lot of Tom’s family who all seemed like lovely people in their own ways for the most part and who seemed to think her nice also, not that it actually mattered.

Beside her, Tom felt incredibly guilty. Part of him hated this arrangement, the other part hated how much he liked it. Paige was, by far, the best female company he had experienced outside of a work setting in a very long time. She seemed to almost be treating it as a chance to enjoy speaking to him and getting to know him. They loved a lot of the same things and everything she was not knowledgeable in, she asked him considerable amounts of questions on said topics, listening intently as he explained tennis and other such matters, committing the information to memory as she did so. He didn’t want to cease being in the company of this woman, she was fun and intelligent and time never lagged in her company, but behind it all, he knew she was a tad lost also. “I’m sorry for my Uncle George.” He stated when they were sitting alone.

“How in the name of fuck is a man that rude related to your mother? She’s like, the nicest sort of person and he is a total ass-hat.”

“Every family has its black sheep.” Tom shrugged. He had asked his mother that question as a youth and that had been her response. “Don’t mind him.”

“Your family are lovely people, Tom. You are very lucky.”

“We were always close, thankfully, my Mum always spent summers with her siblings when we were growing up so we were able to grow up together with our cousins.”

“You’re lucky. Dad never got on well with his brother. Terry didn’t have Dad’s work ethic and then thought it only fair for Dad to give him a big job in the company when he made it. It brought a lot of animosity into the family, so we never got this.” She smiled politely as Sarah looked over at them.

“Thank you, for this. For everything.” Tom waved over at his sister as well. “I know you agreed to this too but I still feel you are getting the worse end of the bargain.”

“I am still wondering why I agreed to it if I’m honest. I don’t need money, I don’t want fame…”

“So why do it?” Tom asked curiously.

Paige looked at him for a moment before answering. “I am not sure. Do you ever get sick of people making comments about your love life, how your choices are something of comment to them?”

“Very much so, yes.”

“I guess part of me wanted a break from that, another part of me just likes having a similar mind to converse with.” Tom glanced at her. “It is the utmost pleasure to speak with you, Tom. You are the greatest of company.”

“Ms Winters, I can honestly say that the feeling is mutual. I have not enjoyed myself so much at a family event in so long as I can remember.” He brought her hand to his lips and gently pressed it to them.

For a moment, Paige forgot this was a charade, that Tom was merely acting so to convince his family he was a man in love, not one in a false relationship simply because it benefitted the show he was in. She supposed the reason Derek had never been inclined to do such things was because it was a fairytale romance, real relationships were not as romantic. She simply smiled and tried to play the part back.

“I never spoke to you regarding that radio interview you did.” Paige studied Tom’s face, having truly thought he would not be overly interested in such a thing. “You quoted me, and took a few questions that were less than appropriate that I feel I should apologise for.”

“What, no. You never did anything to warrant apologising to me for. She asked those inappropriate questions, not you.”

“I’m the reason why she asked them.” Tom drove them back to the hotel they would be staying in for the weekend for the party. They took a double room so as not to arouse suspicion. Thankfully, there were two large beds in the room for them to use, so to not allow for too many odd situations. “Regarding Taylor…” His head fell in shame. “I don’t know why I did it if I’m honest. She stated she and Harris broke off a few weeks prior, we got talking and she was a lovely and flirtatious woman and, dare I say it, I felt wanted and attractive because of her, she has an allure and I fell for it. I thought, maybe, just maybe I was worth that...but I just made an utter fool of myself, and to add salt to the wound, I said nothing nasty, I was respectful, and I get made into nothing more than a song and a way to sell t-shirts.” His hands twisted on the steering wheel, turning them white. “I made such a fucking fool of myself. I have not been able to put myself out there since and honestly, I don’t know when or how I will get back to doing that. I am not ready to yet and this...thing we are doing...Do you know how you said earlier about it being a break from the comments and questions?” Paige nodded silently. “It is the buffer from all of that for me too. The only issue is...I…” He ceased what he was about to say. How she was everything he was looking for but hadn’t been able to find before. How she was incredible, intelligent, fun, funny, alluring, eloquent and everything he could want, but that he was too messed up from his busy lifestyle to know how to deal with it. He said nothing about that and instead forced a small smile onto his face instead, “I find you the greatest company, I fear I will have to contemplate Oxford women from now on.”

Paige, who had no idea of his previously thought statement, and who thought his trepidation was based solely on trying to get her to react to his comment, laughed. “You prick.” She slapped his arm playfully. “It’s a good thing you’re good looking, Mr Hiddleston, or you’d get no one to endure you otherwise.”

“You think I am good looking?”

“Well, I don’t go to bed with people who look like utter rubbish bag contents. Derek was a lot of terrible things, bad looking was not one of them.” She sighed. “I thought I was lucky a good looking guy to pay attention to me...I paid for that.”

“So that’s another of your rules now, help no one, avoid good looking men?” Tom guessed.

“The old mantra ‘if it’s too good to be true, it probably is’ is very much alive and well.”

“You think good looking men being interested in you is ‘too good to be true’?”

“I have little reason to believe anything to the contrary.”

Tom wanted to rubbish her statement regarding holding onto past experiences, but he knew it was a tad hypocritical of him to do so. He knew he was similar, though, in many ways, they were different. He just needed the right sort of woman, she needed to avoid a particular type of man, appearance irrelevant. “Not all good looking men are wankers.”

“Not all women are money-obsessed cunts either.” She countered. “I was always curious as to why you were single.” Tom’s brow furrowed. “Sophie spoke about this incredible man, one of her husband’s closest friends, kind, caring, a gentleman, with plans to show his kids The Jungle Book, who treated every woman around him with respect and her always saying he was single and how it was a shame. And of course, I have met you in passing before, and I always felt that she was right, you were lovely, but you not being with someone did startle me somewhat, after all, there is no way someone that nice is single, you surely would have a queue around the neighbourhood of women who would give their left arm for you, but it makes sense, considering.” Tom didn’t know how to respond to that. “Funny, how you do nothing wrong other than give yourself over to someone and yet you are the one fucked up and punished for it after.”

As Tom readied for bed that night at the hotel, he contemplated what Paige had said and realised there was a lot of truth to it. They did nothing wrong in their respective relationships, they had been the ones to do the work, yet they were the ones left scarred by it all and it wasn’t fair. He thought about what he felt constituted a good foundation for a relationship and realised the similarity of interests, compatibility of character and contentment of self were very much staples in his view, and when he thought of them, he thought of only one person with them.

When he opened the door to the bedroom from the bathroom, he looked at Paige on her bed, glasses on her nose, her book in her hand. He thought of her comments regarding Pride and Prejudice on the show she had been on, her analysis of the piece was so much more than the romance of it, but the historical significance also. She read more than the words, she read their meaning. She was incredible...if only he had the balls to do something regarding it.

After a moment or so of him staring at her, she glanced up at him from her book. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes…” He cleared his throat. “Yes, I was just thinking. What is that book about?”

She smiled slightly and looked at the front cover. “Haven’t you heard of it?”

“I have seen it is doing well and that it is supposed to be good but I have not had a chance to look too much into it.”

“I love it. I love questioning us as a species and his thoughts are so interesting. I honestly love to read this sort of thing. It’s just a historian’s analysis of our species over the last 2.5 million years, it goes into so much detail about the different branches of the homo species, our development of mind and knowledge, everything. You really need to read it.” She extended it out to him.

Tom took it and read the back cover. “It does look interesting.”

“Read it, I swear, you will not regret it.”

“If it is about all humans, why is it called Sapiens, that is just one branch?”

“There is no Sapiens without the other humans that so very much, through evolution, breeding and even competition, created our branch of humans.” She explained excitedly.

Tom had to remind himself that this was not a real relationship, where, away from people, he could not kiss her and show her in a sexual manner how alluring and attractive her intelligence and love of learning were. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, but instead, he forced himself to remain still and simply appreciate what he could of her as she went through a synopsis of the book with him.

#Once Bitten Twice Shy #chapter 10 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic

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