#again i do NOT ask these questions judgmentally at all but rather out of curiosity

[volchitsa-of-winterfell]

I think nearly all of lewis' aloof persona is carefully constructed, as is his over the top style in the paddock. He's extremely good at distracting ppl or showing only what he wants to. He mimics vulnerability but he's hiding the stuff he's really vulnerable about. All the woowoo spiritual "ohhhhh he's so GENUINE" stuff is also a front (see how kate wagner talked about him).

ooooh bold take and as a fellow mimicker of vulnerability to hide the stuff i'm really vulnerable about, i'm into it!! i understand from your tone that you don't mean this as a particularly good thing but i personally am here for interesting/compelling characters in the vroom vroom soap opera and don't care too much if they're Good People ™ or not lol. (and thank you for the reminder that I still haven't gotten around to reading that Kate Wagner article!)

[cuubism]

(from some unfinished scene that was bouncing around in my head, the premise of which was, "confessing your darkest fantasies to each other") bit nsfw, needless to say

--

"God, I had this one--" Hob scrubs a hand through his hair, torn between embarrassment and a buried longing that's still very real-- "after I met you in 1689. This recurring dream that you would just... take me with you."

"With me," Dream says.

"To faerie land, or wherever it was you came from, as I imagined it. You must've lived in some fantastical place, I thought, and life was hardly treating me well then. Would just be for a few months, mind," he adds, before Dream starts getting the idea that he hadn't wanted to live. Hob had always wanted to live. He just needed a break. "A year, maybe. But just... that you would..." he ducks his head, "take care of me. God, the things I'd do then for a loaf of bread, or a warm bed. Things I did do, for lesser men. Would do lot more for you."

"Like what?" asks Dream. His voice is... considering.

Surely Dream, being, well, Dream, won't find it strange? Hell, he's so damn princely, he'll probably just be vain about it. Still Hob takes a steeling gulp of his wine. "Anything you wanted. You were the only one that was kind to me then."

"Barely kind," says Dream.

"Still. When I was really deep in it I-- I used to imagine you'd just keep me there. Like a pet." It should be more embarrassing to admit, but Dream doesn't seem judgmental. And Hob has often found that confessing deep feelings to him is easier than it would be to any other person. "Figured I was just a curiosity to you anyway. In exchange for your kindness I'd have done anything. Knelt at your feet. Let you use me. Kept your cock warm while you conducted your-- your magical affairs of state, or what have you, God I could only imagine what you did with the rest of your time." It still stirs something in him to think of, even with no starving desperation to spur it.

He's still looking down, and hears rather than sees Dream lean forward in his seat, the shift of fabric, the creak of the table as he leans on it, letting himself have real weight. "This fantasy..." Hob looks up to meet his gaze, and the dark intent he finds there nearly knocks him out of his chair. "Is it one you would still care to indulge in?"

"To-- indulge in?" The words are barely choked out, the heat of Dream's gaze brands his throat shut.

Dream looks him up and down slowly. "If I brought you with me to the heart of the Dreaming for an evening," he purrs, "would you truly kneel at the foot of my throne? Let me show you off to guests? Would you..." he leans in closer, his fingers trip up Hob's throat, "submit, and warm my cock like a good pet, while I presided over my kingdom?"

Hob's never beating the monarchist allegations now. He nearly slides off his chair and kneels at Dream's feet right then. God, but Dream is a king like none the earth's ever seen. He's right out of a story.

Heart pattering in his chest, he says, "Would I?" It sounds less a question, more a plea. "Would you let me?"

"Dear Hob." Dream tips his chin up, studies him from under his lashes, thumbs over the corner of his mouth. An evaluation, and a caress. "You need someone to care for you. In my realm you would want for nothing. You would not need to fight, or worry about your next meal. You need only do as I tell you. And I would not steer you wrong."

Hob swallows hard. Dream is too good at this. Why did Hob think it was a good idea to share a fantasy with the King of Fucking Fantasies again?

It was a terrible idea for his sanity.

And a wonderful one, too. For as Dream spins the tale he can see it in the back of his mind, the vague and changeable sense of a dream, the all-consuming weight of Dream in his mouth, Dream's hands in his hair, his low voice above him, all else faded away as is the nature of dreams.

Dream hums in approval, and Hob remembers quite suddenly that he can sense daydreams, too.

Dream digs his hand into his hair, tips his head back just so. "This isn't fair," Hob croaks. "You didn't even share one of your fantasies yet."

"Perhaps I've adopted this as one of mine," Dream muses. He leans in and claims Hob's mouth, tipping his head further back, rises from his chair to lean over him. Hob barely suppresses a whimper. "In fact, I have a delegation from Hell due to arrive in the Dreaming for a negotiation tonight. It promises to be both dull and incredibly infuriating. Would you care to join me, and comfort your king during this trying time?"

"From Hell?" Hob squeaks. But Dream is looking at him with those dark eyes and Hob is helpless to him. Helpless to the pull of that fantasy.

"I will keep you safe," Dream says, a soothing, easy tone that makes Hob want to bend for him just as much as his intensity does. "You need not worry."

Hob's worried for his sanity more than anything else.

But he says, "Okay. All- alright then." He swallows down the lump in his throat that catches at the gleam in Dream's eye. He steels himself. Takes Dream's hand. Kisses it. "Take me to your realm, then, King of Dreams."

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes: This is part one of a new series.

Warnings: Judgment related to weight. Cursing. Fluff. Angst. Eventual smut (alluded to/or other). Self-esteem issues.

Words: 1622

Masterlist

---

You’re going to be new again. You’re so terribly tired of being new. But that's how it’s always been. Never in one place long enough to be considered a usual in town. Never a constant in anyone’s life. No. You’re the new girl, because people don’t give you a choice to be anything else. 

You learned it quite young. People’s lingering glances have nothing to do with curiosity or intrigue. They don’t stare because you’re particularly beautiful or unique-looking. Rather, they watch you so they may judge and criticize and tease. You learned it doesn’t fade as you age. People are people, and not all of them grow. Unfortunately for you, those people are scattered about the world as much as the good-hearted ones. But the good-hearted never approach you. They never look your way. 

Eventually, as it goes, the life you’re living, surrounded by those people, becomes too much. You get tired again. You leave that disappointing town. You find somewhere new. You repeat. The many places you’ve been have become tainted, and now you’re left with few. So few that two nights ago, instead of four different cities scribbled on notecards to choose from, there were three. The options are slimming. You put the cards in a bowl, closed your eyes, and now you’re a California resident, for however long that may be.

It’s extreme, you sometimes think—writing off a whole city or town when they’re full of other neighborhoods with different people who have fresh pairs of eyes—but it makes you feel better. You can say to yourself that you no longer live in that city or town. That city or town was an old life. 

In your new life—born from the moment you crossed the state line all of four hours ago—you’ve yet to feel out of place. Things have kept from souring. No wrong turns. No bad weather. A new apartment awaiting you from an ad you’d answered the day prior. The ad included a roommate you don’t want, but it’s cheap and all you can afford until you get a job. 

It’s also a risk. This “Jake” guy could be as bad as the rest, but there’s only one way to find out. And if he is bad—well, you’ve got two more notecards in your bag.

—

It’s nicer than you expected, and that brings forth a hearty handful of questions. Why would this guy need a roommate if he lived here? Why is the rent so cheap? And when you finally knock on the door, Jake is actually…a woman?

You do a quick scan of her face and form. She’s beautiful in nearly every conventional way. Her features fit in all the right places on her face. Her body is proportional, filling out clothes the way they are meant to be filled out. She’s intimidating. Not the roommate you expected, and certainly not a roommate you can handle having. She might very well be lovely, but you don’t need a daily reminder of what you are not. 

“Are you…Jake?” you ask.

“Natasha. You’re in the right place,” she replies, moving aside to make room for you to pass the threshold. 

Looking around, you almost gasp. The interior matches the grandness of its exterior wrapping. Lofted ceilings; natural light; walls painted in thick, throughout coats so as not to allow the slightest hint of their previous shade to peek through. It officially confirms what you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge before—you’ve grown too accustomed to living in dumps. From the shine of the floor alone, you know you’ve never held yourself to this guy’s standards. 

Will I have to meet those standards? 

“Jake couldn’t be here so he asked me to let you in,” Natasha says. “The key is on the counter.”

“Right, um–” You swallow, unsure how to ask what could easily be interpreted as rude. “And this Jake guy, is he…”

“Not a creep,” she promises with a light smile, “Just irritating.”

“That’s a relief.”

“If you like arrogant pilots.”

You almost tell her that a know-it-all plane man is probably one of the last people you intend to worry about—falling in place next to old ladies, babies, and tiny dogs—but you keep your mouth shut. She doesn’t need your story. And if Jake is a pilot, then it seems safe to say he won’t be around enough to bother figuring you out, either. 

“I can handle a pilot.” As long as he keeps to himself—Another thing you don’t say. 

The brunette nods. “Then this might work out after all,” she says before giving you a once-over. “He’ll definitely be surprised by you, though."

That stops you, nudging you back into a past you’re trying to forget. It makes your breath catch in your throat. Your ears begin to thump from a quickening pulse. “What do you mean by that?”

Chocolate brown eyes widen briefly before relaxing back into an indifferent mask. “Nothing. I’m sure you’ll get along fine,” she says. Another smile. Same as before. Then, “If you’re okay, I actually have somewhere to be.”

Releasing a tense exhale, you plaster on a smile of your own. “I’m good. Thank you.”

She nods and makes her way toward the door, wrapping slender fingers around the brushed nickel knob. “Jake said to let you know he’ll be back late. So you have some time to get acquainted with the place.” 

She twists the knob and steps through the open frame. When the door has nearly eclipsed the remainder of her body, she pauses and her eyes meet yours. “I hope you'll like it here. It’ll be nice to have another woman around to dilute the testosterone,” she says. Then she’s gone. 

Standing in the apartment alone, you feel like an intruder. Though Natasha told you to get acquainted, you can't imagine going on the hunt for your bedroom, or unpacking your clothes, or reclining on the couch with a snack from the refrigerator. Something in you says it's better to stand in the same spot until your roommate returns to lead you about the place himself. If only you knew when that would be.

—

The only thing clueing you in that, at some point, you’d fallen asleep in the armchair by the bookshelf is the key-in-lock sound now stirring you awake. You jolt up out of the chair to find the sun had set so long ago that not a sliver of orange on the horizon remains. How many hours had been wasted making up for lost sleep when you should’ve been rehearsing how to respond to all possible reactions your roommate might have upon seeing you?

It doesn’t matter. You’re out of time now. 

You’ve barely readjusted your shirt to hide the exposed line of your bra by the time the door opens. But the man who walks through is far from what you imagined, and you had imagined plenty. 

You wait for a second, breath trapped in lungs. But then you realize he has yet to notice you, so with curious eyes, you use his unaware moment to truly notice him. 

He’s tall, broad, with short sandy blond hair and a jawline you’ve not seen on any man outside of a TV screen or glossy magazine page. Sharp like etched marble. His stubble is a day's worth, and while you suspect it’s not a representation of his usual appearance, you can’t say it doesn’t suit him well. 

Through pink parted lips you hear the exhale of his sigh, and suddenly see from the slump of his shoulders as he removes his jacket to hang on a nearby hook that he’s as tired as you are. Likely for very different reasons, but tired all the same. An affliction of sorts you understand too well.

When he runs a hand down his face, as if to wipe off the exhaustion like a wet rag removing dirt from skin, you get your first full image of him. Before it was just his profile. That was enough to tell you plenty, but straight on he’s…more. From the hallway light, you catch a glimpse of the green hue of his eyes. You notice the tanness of his arms–not natural, but from spending too much time in the sun–and the veins that trail along them like rivers in the earth. 

You’re suddenly not so sure what you’ve gotten yourself into. Men like him you’ve dealt with before, and it doesn’t often do you well. However, you promised yourself that with each town, you’ll pretend your past pain doesn’t exist so you may approach the new people and places without preconceived opinions. It’s a struggle of a promise to keep, but you do your best. And having just arrived, it would be silly not to try to do your best here as well. 

Those green eyes finally find yours and he stops short, almost stumbling as if he forgot to expect you. But he recovers quickly, standing straight and sturdy to confirm his height. His slightly slackened jaw coupled with the stare he gives you, however, doesn’t quite manage the same impressive recovery rate. His face can’t hide his surprise. 

A throat-clearing is followed by, “You’re my new roommate?”

You can’t tell if there’s judgment in his tone. Disappointment, maybe? He’s still staring. 

“Yes,” you say calmly, giving him a chance to not be the prick you suspect he might be. Don’t break your promise, you internally scold.

His gaze lingers on each feature of your face. Eyes pause at your lips before traveling lower; much lower until he reaches your toes then makes his way back up to where he started. 

A beat passes. He swallows hard. Then that deep voice, having turned a bit husky, mutters a soft, “Fuck.”

---

A/N: again, this is a new series. So part 2 soon. I hope you liked it :)

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @tgmavericklover @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @penguin876

[takiisieju-squadra]

Hello! I'm resending my info for a la squadra match up, thank you so much for clarifying on that.

I'm quite shy and need other's to initiate contact first before I can feel comfortable talking to someone even if inside I would liked to make friends with them, still I'm enthusiastic about meeting new people and making friends

I tend to ask lots of questions about someone when I'm comfortable enough I just love to know as much as I possibly can about them and remember little details or understand their quirks

I like making hand made or personalized gifts it just feels so much more thoughtful and sentimental so it is a way to convey my feelings

It's really enjoyable for me to build relationships over similar interests like music preference or books (especially because I love to read so much), I prefer a lot of intellectual stimulation from my partner about ideas they are passionate about or heart to heart conversations or even very witty and clever humor

Very prone to over thinking and getting caught up in insecurities so I appreciate when my partner is reassuring or guiding and non judgmental, I always strive to make them comfortable enough that they would never feel judged by me so we deeply understand each other deeply

I hope that was more helpful! thank you again! 🩷

Hello! You are always welcome and thank you for the ask!

Using my amazing matchmaker skills, I strongly connect you to…

Melone!

Initiating a conversation won’t be needed, he is known for butting in people’s personal space. And I think he’d actually just outright give you a compliment, out of the blue, no introduction or greeting needed. Then, you’ll be barraged with an array of questions, from your zodiac sign (don’t worry, even if you are afab, he doesn’t see you as a Stand mom, since they have to be terrible people) to your favorite band to your stance on the trolley problem. This may come off as annoying or creepy, but he looks rather genuine in his curiosity. It is entirely on you whether to tell him to piss off or not.

Once you are comfortable and it is your turn to ask questions, he loves to answer. He might even bluntly state his line of work (or at least say that he’s a part of the mafia, people do like bad boys, or so he thinks). He is a weird, weird man, and you not being mean about it is what really makes him instantly fall in love.

He’s a smart, talkative guy, but an observant one as well. When he sees that you want to speak, he shuts up immediately, but is blabbering your ears off when it’s his turn. Even if you don’t really share any interests yet, he’ll listen to your favorite songs while reading your favorite books for days and probably nights as well just to get closer. He’ll do anything to talk to you as much as possible, because talking to somebody without facing judgement is not something he experiences often.

He admires more than just that though. Everything about you amazes him, and not in his usual creepy half-scientific manner. No, you are really something to treasure to him. Whenever you feel insecure, he strategically pinpoints your good sides, countering whatever protests you have with all the love and care he is possibly capable of.

Hope you are pleased with this result!

taglist: @go-capt-puppen

[kittlesandbugs]

Title: Scrubbing old wounds (AO3 Link here) Pairing: Chargestep Warnings: PSTD, medical trauma, canon-typical angst, end of Retri spoilers Word Count: 1691 Summary: At some point after the wreck and moving into Ortega's apartment to heal, Sidestep has to tackle how to get clean.  It dredges up a lot of old memories and fears.

You drag your hand back through greasy hair that feels almost plastered to your skull. How long ago was your accident, since you were clean? Showered that morning, before everything went to absolute shit. Was it two days earlier that you arrived at Ortega's apartment?  You aren’t sure how long you were in the hospital before you woke up again. Three days maybe? Four? 

Fuck. You haven't had to go longer than a day since you got back to the city. You can't walk. Can't get undressed by yourself. Can't even piss by yourself. How are you supposed to manage a shower? The frustrated groan drags itself from your lips. 

"What's wrong, Ry?" 

You turn to find Ortega peering at you from around the kitchen doorway. You must have been louder than you thought. 

"I… feel disgusting," you admit, rubbing the back of your neck. Your hand sticking in dried sweat makes you grimace. "I need a shower but…" 

His lips quirk in a half-smile. "I was wondering when you'd ask."

"It can wait," you say quickly. Somehow the idea was less daunting in your head, and the reality of the endeavor is sinking its claws in.  You suppress a shudder. "I don't want to interrupt you."

"I'm just cleaning up. That can wait."  He pauses and cocks his head in thought. "Or would you rather Angie helped you with this?  She’ll be over tonight." 

Fuck, that's so much worse. At least with Ortega, you're completely protected from his thoughts. Judgments. Unvoiced questions. Argent is good at keeping hers under wraps, but you can't handle a slip. Not right now. You quickly shake your head. 

"You, please?" You sound pathetic even to your own ears. 

"Of course," he says quietly. Gently. Like you aren't a villain that lies to him constantly, just the woman he loves, and you can't even really be that for him. 

Does he suspect anything? Will he put the pieces together when Reckoning's rampage quiets the entire time you're here healing? As much as you accuse him of being an idiot, he's not about things like this. 

You tug your sleeves nervously as he takes hold of the wheelchair, guides you to the bathroom. They both know that truth now. You still can't bring yourself to wear short sleeves around them since the IV came out. Can't handle the glances you know will come. The curiosity. The pity. 

You're going to have to bear his anyway if you want to get clean. 

There's room enough for both of you and the wheelchair between all the fixtures. Ranger salary perks of living, but it is a little tight. He sidles around you to the tub. 

"I've been thinking about how we're going to do this since we left the HQ. And the only thing I've come up with is something like a sponge bath?" 

You nod. Not like you can submerge your casts, acrylic or not. Can't remove them to get excess water out. Don't want to risk anything that could complicate your healing. You're going to be too vulnerable too long as it is, and your skin itches from more than just grime. 

"Can I help you get undressed?" 

Too soft. Too considerate. You're suddenly not sure what's worse, getting manhandled like a doll or treated like you'll shatter if he touches you wrong, and it burns like sandpaper on raw nerves. 

"Seriously? Gonna be hard to give me a bath otherwise." It comes out far more acidic and sarcastic than you intended, and you flinch at the flash of hurt in his eyes. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

"It's not.  I shouldn't be taking my shit out on you."  You hold your arms up and lean forward, a peace offering and invitation to take your shirt off. 

He takes the offered olive branch. Chuckles a little as he peels the shirt over your head. "I had a feeling you would be a terrible patient."

"I am, aren't I?" 

"You're in a lot of pain." Lips press to the top of your head. "I get it."

"I do appreciate your help."  You blink back tears. "And you bringing me here.  I couldn't…"

"I won't let them take you again. Hurt you again."

You don't believe he can really keep them from you. But the thought is nice. You sit back in the chair and look at the ceiling rather than your own acid orange torso. 

"Oh, Riley…" 

The tone of his voice brings you back to him, and he has a soft, open expression that punches you right in your guts, harder than a fist. 

"Wh-what?" Your arms cross over your chest, hiding one set of patterns and exposing another. Damned either way. "They're as much me as the rest of my skin." 

He shakes his head, tension obvious in the cords of his neck. "Not the tattoos.  The scar."

"I— oh."  Your arms fall away and you look down at the ugly Y-shape going down your breast bone, split across your belly, breaking up the tattoos. Reminiscent of an autopsy scar, but you never actually died. Not all the way, not in a way they couldn't bring you back. "That."

"What… what did they do to you?" 

You laugh. Maybe it's a little frayed at the edges, jagged like your skin. "Fixed me after Heartbreak, like I said before. Used the good spare parts inside.  Didn't care how it looked outside. Didn't matter.  No one else was ever supposed to see it."

He isn't sparking, probably turned himself off for the bath. But his hands clench tight and pale on the rims of your wheels. He's speechless for once, and it emboldens you to keep going. Keep giving him more ugly truths so he'll finally repudiate you like he should have done when he first saw the tattoos. 

"New spleen, it ruptured. Replaced some bowel that perforated. Fixed a punctured lung. Broken ribs."  You lean forward so he can see the long scars running the length of your spine and he sucks in a breath.  You knew they'd worked on it, but hadn't seen the extent until the first time you examined yourself with your puppet. "Repaired herniated discs and cracked vertebrae. I… a lot breaks in a 40-foot fall."

He winces and you half regret saying the last part. "I know," he says softly. 

"I don't know that I would have survived if they hadn't taken me immediately." A shudder runs through you. Maybe it would have been better for everyone if they hadn't. But they did, and the ball can't stop rolling now. "I don't know that I entirely survived the ride. I don't really remember much between the fall and the scalpels."

Those you remember with crystal clarity, the pain stripping your mind cleaner than their scans. Straps biting into flesh, pinned down and cut open like a frog for dissection. The jab when they cut somatic nerve control to still your writhing. Couldn't even relieve the pain with a scream, machines breathing for you through tubes unceremoniously shoved down your throat. Pain-gate broken or deactivated, and you felt everything in spades. Just like now, painkillers no longer taking the edge off. You shiver and swallow the bile threatening to rise up. 

Warm hands cup your cheeks and you almost flinch out of them. He's gone to one knee beside you, unable to slot in from the front. "Hey. Hey. Look at me. Breathe with me." 

Heart racing, breath coming in shallow pants, you didn't even notice. You swallow again, hands squeeze the arm rest, focus on warm brown eyes, warm hands, long slow breaths, letting the past lie dead where you should have. But neither one of you will stay down. 

"There." Lips press to your forehead. "It's okay. You're back, you're here, and I won't let them take you again," he says again but with more force. 

If he keeps saying that, can he will it into reality? 

"Sorry," you mutter. "I don't… This is… It's too…" You trail off, words not coming. Everything hurts, everything's wrong, everything's twisted up, how did it get… 

"Too similar to last time?"

You flinch. "Yeah."

He hums in thought and turns on the spigot, bucket already waiting underneath. Did he already have it there in anticipation of your need or did it sneak in while you were losing it? You don't know. You scrub your face with a groan and your hands come back wet with tears. Fuck. 

"How did they take care of you?" 

You freeze like a deer, not sure if you misheard over the faucet. "What?" 

"When you were hurt before. They had to keep you clean, right? For your wounds?" 

"I don't…" Hands, there were hands. You sort of remember them. Moving the shift. Lifting your limbs. Rough callous scrubbing. And sometimes they would... You shake your head to derail that train of thought. "I don't really remember everything. I was half catatonic from shock. Pain. They just did."

"Okay. Here."  He hands you a warm wet soapy cloth and retreats, as much as he can wedged in the bathroom with you.

There's a loaded look in his eyes that's throwing you. You look at the washcloth, back to him, trying to figure out what he's plotting, and you only batter against static in his brain that makes you shrink back in your chair as another tremor runs through you. 

"Riley, look at me." Your eyes flick to his. "I'm not them. I'm not going to hurt you." A loaded pause, a crooked grin. "Except when I pick you up so we can scrub your ass."

That startles a choked laugh out of you and his eyes crinkle with delight. "I think that one's unavoidable," you admit with a sniffle. Fuck, you're a mess. 

"Yeah. And we don't have to if you don't want to. You're in control here. I'll only touch where and when you ask. Help get what you can't reach. We're done when you say so. Okay?"

"Yeah…" You swallow, nod, come back stronger. A wet smile to answer his, and it's not dread drowning you this time. "Okay."

[drama-rebellion]

Wallflowers

(A short-story about two girls meeting on a not so superficial night…)

Tarja hated this place. Every bit of it. She wished she would never had given in to her mum’s urging of going out and meeting people of her age. What a stupid idea.

The big hall was nauseating. Those rich young people in suits and dresses, who picky nibbled at cheese-grape spikes and savoured their glasses of two hundred-dollar champagne, while they were swaying to the live music of a gruesome jazz band. And these boring, lifeless beige walls with red curtains that guarded the black windows… tasteless!

Tarja stood near the entrance without a move, watching the crowd disgusted. Maybe if she left fast now, nobody would miss her, but right in that moment, her date showed up beside her and Tarja felt the strong urge to bang her head against a wall. Instead she forced a smile towards this average guy from the neighbourhood whom her mother had chosen her to go out with. Absolutely ridiculous and embarrassing beyond words, but obviously her mum didn’t mind to force her into the next Stone Age! At least this guy wasn’t much thrilled to be here either.

“Ehm yeah…” he started uneasy, “well, I’m sorry you have to be here with me. My mum told me it would be good for me and she insisted on it. It wasn’t mine idea, really…”

Tarja just smiled again.

“It’s okay. I think it’s the best we don’t mention it to our parents and, ehm…” she pressed her lips together for a second and gave him a kinda excusing and pitying look.

“… let’s just go different ways, yeah?” she suggested and the boy nodded relieved.

“Good idea”, he spilled out and quickly revoked from her peeved presence.

Tarja was left behind in her dark green, golden dress with this small glittering bag in her hand and a head full of thoughts she was unable to shut out. Couples kept passing her by entering the hall, laughing, talking and entertaining themselves. Tarja felt like the only one in a huge group who didn’t get the joke everybody was laughing about. With a deep sigh she looked at her watch. It was barely ten. If she returned home now, her mum would assail her with questions and she wasn’t ready yet to go through more judgment and endless discussions with her parents.

But what to do now? Definitely not staying at this revolting party.

“Wanna go somewhere else?” a female voice suddenly asked and Tarja turned around.

A woman stood at one of the bar tables. She had pinned her long brown curls up and only few strands of hair covered her shoulders. She wore a black dress with a corset and a black leather jacket over it. All in all she seemed even more displaced than Tarja.

“What do you mean?” she asked interested and hesitantly walked closer. The stranger made an explaining hand gesture towards the hall.

“You can impossibly want to stay here”, she said like it was the most logic thing in the world. And it probably was. Laughing Tarja shook her head and her black hair fell into her face.

“Oh no, definitely not. I’d rather be anywhere but here”

“Good. So you will come with me?” the woman asked with a promising sparkle in her brown eyes.

“Where?”

“To a place which is much more fun”. Sly smile.

Tarja knew that she shouldn’t go. It was too risky and dangerous. Who knew who this woman really was after all?

“What is your name?” she asked curiously.

“Sharon”

The sound of her name had something mysterious what increased Tarja’s curiosity even more.

Nervously Tarja bit her lip to keep herself from blushing. She failed brilliantly.

“And with who do I have the honour to talk with ?”

The heat in Tarja’s cheeks got even worse.

“I’m Tarja”, she mumbled.

They shook hands. It felt strange, but that’s what you do when you meet new people, right?

“So, why do you come here when you actually hate it?” Sharon asked and slowly the conversation lost its stuffiness and tension.

“My mum got me a date”.

Sharon’s beautiful lips formed into a teasing smile.

“Your mum got you a date? Seriously?”

Tarja blushed again and laughed forcefully.

“Yeah, I know it’s embarrassing” then she changed the subject.

“Why are you here?”

“The champagne is good”, the woman answered with a grin and emptied her glass.

“But enough smalltalk. We shouldn’t waste more time here, don’t you think?”

The jazz band was just about to start raping another innocent song.

“Yes definitely”

On the way to the exit Sharon walked by the buffet, grabbed a bottle of champagne and stowed it in her handbag. Another few seconds they pushed themselves through the people coming towards them, before they finally breathed in the cold night air.

Without asking Sharon suddenly took Tarja’s hand and gently pulled her further away from the crowd at the sidewalk. The warmth of the touch felt strangely familiar. Tarja looked at the other girl astonished and time slowed down, only to let Tarja appreciate this moment of charm. Sharon lifted her hand and a by driving taxi hit the breaks to pick up the two women. With their cheeks burning from the cold, the girls got on the back seat.

“I don’t have much money with me”, Tarja whispered concerned to Sharon, but she shook her head disdainful.

“I have enough money”, she reassured her and then told the driver the address.

They hit the road and with a fizzle the champagne got opened.

“Here, taste the wasteful sparkling water”, Sharon said sarcastically and handed her the bottle. Tarja took some deep sips and the pleasant mild liquid ran down her throat. A light melancholy started to fill her up when she turned her head and watched the crazy coloured lights passing by behind the window. Sometimes she caught a glance at the people in the other cars and a smile played around her lips when she saw some of their expressions, grim faces or upset lip movements when the traffic slowed them down.

Tarja couldn’t say how long they had been driving and at some point she was surprised that Sharon didn’t try to keep up an superficial conversation about where she came from or what she did all day and other boring, normal stuff people just ask you when they aren’t interested or uncomfortable in your presence.

But Sharon just looked outside the window herself, sometimes took a sip of the stolen champagne and time to time Tarja glanced over to her, only to look at her mesmerizing face. Her thoughts wandered aimlessly like they didn’t know where to go next. Actually she was glad the car stopped, before her thoughts could get lost in the darker parts of her mind…

Sharon got out, paid the cap driver and the next moment the two women stood alone in front of a rusty rear entrance. While looking at this obviously neglected door, Tarja asked herself uneasy, if she wouldn’t have been doing better by enduring the discussion with her mum.

A man like a bull guarded the door, dressed in a suit and his hands folded behind his back. Unimpressed Sharon walked towards him, took out a kind of ID from her handbag and passed him without even getting a second look. Tarja followed her insecure through the door and it was like she had just entered the secret portal to Narnia or something. This was no noble club, but no total sinkhole either. It was something comfortably in between, something you could trust on without feeling doubtful.

Still Tarja clung on Sharon like they were Siamese twins.

Deep bass music sounded through the strange club which was parted in sections, just like compartments somehow but different, in a way that didn’t lock you away from anyone, but still granted you enough privacy to have a normal conversation.

Tarja followed her host through half of the club, passing some drunk dancers and stoned people laying on sofas, until they reached that one special corner at the right side. Three girls and two boys sat there, absorbed in a carefree conversation. When Sharon let herself slump down on the black sofa they looked up.

“Hey! I already thought you wouldn’t show up at all!” one of the girls said and hugged Sharon friendly.

“Yeah, it took longer than I thought”, she explained annoyed but then she turned her head and pointed at the still standing Tarja, who obviously felt pretty uncomfortable.

“Oh, this is Tarja by the way. I saved her from that creepy party and brought her here.”

She expected some distant greetings or forced smiles, but instead all of them really bothered to get up and hug her shortly.

“Nice to meet ya!”

Perplex and confused she accepted it and let herself sink down next to Sharon.

“Let me introduce”, she started.

“This is our charming Charlotte”, the red haired woman smiled brightly.

“Above all enthusiastic Robert” one of the guys gave her a nod.

“Amy. She’s a demon, just to warn ya” the girl next to him with incredibly long black hair showed a greeting smile.

“Ruud” the boy raised his fist in the air, “hell yeah!”

Everyone laughed.

“He’s a true chaotic, just ignore it”, Sharon explained smiling while pointing at the last of the three women.

“And that is Lzzy. The walking energy bomb.”

Ruud pointed back at Sharon.

“And last but not least, our heart and soul, our lovely Sharon!”

Sharon smiled and thanked him with a nod.

Slowly Tarja’s insecurity faded as she looked at all those nice and welcoming faces. They were so different from those people she had met before.

“I’m happy to meet you all”, Tarja said honestly and the next second she got already buried in questions. Everyone seemed to be interested in her and that already was a fact in totally unknown territory for Tarja. She had grown up in a wealthy family with a name which got her access to everything and everyone; she went to private school and now, to her own decision, finally to a public college that would start in two months.

I felt good to speak with those people. Normal people. People who stood up every morning trying to handle their lives somehow, not knowing about the next week, or month or year, just living from one second to the next, trying to make the best out of it. There wasn’t much expected of them and still they could give so much more.

They talked and even though Tarja liked all of them and loved to chat with them, her eyes always ended up resting on Sharon, who sat next to her, preoccupied with conversations.

But Tarja didn’t mind. She just watched her, how her lips moved, the expressions on her face, how they went along with her words. She was fascinated by the way Sharon’s clothes moved while speaking, how her hands made supporting gestures and her bright laugh that lightened up the atmosphere.

Tarja just couldn’t stop looking at this incredible human being, astonished and overwhelmed.

The music wasn’t intrusive and the questions not too personal, but despite all the comfort she felt around those wonderful people, she noticed the panic dangerously crawling up her chest. Dryly she swallowed, trying to fight it, but it was no use. Somehow the company and questions released the dark part in her and the loneliness that dwelled there.

Hastily Tarja got up from the sofa.

“Where’s the restroom?” she asked with shallow voice. Everyone went quiet, detecting something was wrong and carefully Amy pointed to the left backside of the club.

“To the corner and then the first door on the left”, she said silently.

“Thanks”, Tarja gasped.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine…” she stuttered, “Just nauseous”

Without any further explanation she rushed towards the rescuing door. Heavily breathing she entered the small and graffiti daubed restroom and propped her hands up on the sink.

Tarja looked up. A person was facing her in the mirror. Green pupils, high cheekbones, messy hair and outworn make up. The lips of the woman trembled, her eyes stared dead at her.

Minutes past before Tarja distantly grabbed her handbag and was already about to fix her face, but then she suddenly felt the unreality hitting her. Her hands felt like they didn’t belong to her, her legs seemed to give in and her head was about to explode. The vision of a red painted canvas crossed her inner eye, with splashes of dreams and hopes, irrevocable wasted and not ever to be taken back. Lost forever.

Tarja held her face under the stream of cold water and felt how the liquid covered every cell, every inch, replaced every thought, and it felt good. Relieving.

With a deep gasp Tarja straightened up and dried her face. She looked horrible now, due the messed up make-up but she fixed it within minutes and even she looked like nothing ever happened now, she was unable to move. She just stared into the mirror.

After a while she heard the door opening.

“What are you doing?” Sharon asked carefully. Tarja didn’t resolve the look from the creature in the mirror.

“Looking at her”, she whispered.

The mouth made her the saddest, next to her dead eyes. There was a dark line between the lips in the outline of several waves in a turbulent storm. It said don’t kiss me, don’t fool me. She was dancer who couldn’t dance…

Tarja turned around to Sharon, faced her with that mask she was trained to put on. This mask that prevented her from getting hurt, getting too attached and dependent. She looked intensely at this woman, the woman who had lead her away from a party into a hurricane of feelings, emotions and memories, good and bad ones, and even now Tarja was unable to say if she regretted it or not.

Sharon put a hand on Tarja’s shoulder. The touch brought the frozen statue back to life and Tarja lifted her head, with pale skin and her green eyes gone dull.

“I’m fine”, she said, but her voice sounded like plastic.

“Sure you are”, Sharon stepped even closer, now putting her other hand on her shoulder as well.

“You don’t have to hide anything from me” she said gently and something in her voice just reached out, embraced Tarja’s soul and whispered calming words to her, promised her that everything, eventually, would be okay.

“I know. I…” Tarja was close to lose control again.

“I just can’t talk about it right now”, she pressed out and lowered her eyes.

“That’s okay. Just keep in mind that you aren’t alone”, she gave her an encouraging smile.

“Shall we go back to the party now?”

Tarja nodded.

When they crossed the wide room on the way back, it felt like she was enclosed by dark water, which made all her steps slow and heavy, drained out all the noise and pressed the air out of her lungs.

Like in trance she sat down next to the others, these nice and caring people who tried their best and fought against the cruelty and superficiality of the world, but yet again got drowned in everything that didn’t matter. Even it did matter for them.

Tarja fell in love with them. Sharon, Amy, Ruud, Robert, Lzzy, Charlotte… all of them. But especially Sharon. She hadn’t mentioned the incident at the toilet and she was grateful for that. But anyway this woman just seemed so carefree, like she had figured out life, its meaning and reasons and everything what laid beyond. She could say anything and Tarja would believe it.

The whole evening the small group of these weird people who didn’t fit into society, spoke about everything and nothing at all and everyone was fine with it. At some point, whenever it happened, Sharon and Tarja looked at each other and bend over for a kiss. It wasn’t certain if it was spontaneous or planned, due the alcohol or just random. But Tarja enjoyed the feeling of the soft lips on hers for a second and of course nobody said anything. Nobody cared who loved anyone, because most people at this place didn’t know true love at all.

“Are you okay?” Sharon asked silently and if she hadn’t been only an inch away from her face, Tarja probably wouldn’t have understood her due the music.

“No. Are you?”

The other woman smiled ironically and shook her head.

“No…” she took Tarja’s hand and gently stroked over it.

“I like your friends”, Tarja changed the subject after a while and Sharon laughed.

“Oh yes, they’re really cool! I’m glad you like them”

But the passion in her voice was gone. Instead it got replaced by a distant sorrow, like someone just reminded her that everything, no matter how great or bad, was just temporary.

“Maybe I should go home now…” Tarja slowly said and somehow felt guilty for it. Sharon withdrew her hand from her hold.

“Yeah”

“Can I have your number?” Tarja asked, not willing to give all of this up already. Sharon smiled and pulled out her phone.

“Sure”

They exchanged numbers and it felt good, but the second Tarja got up and headed for the door, she felt the strong urge to go back and sit with those people forever. Just feel life, joy, hope and the will to live. Just all the feelings the night and people were able to give you.

But then Tarja left the club, breathed in the cold night air and felt the depression taking over her body, worse than ever before, while she waited for a taxi to take her home…

[danse--macabre]

companion!tav questions!

General - 1, 4

story - 8, 10

romance - 1, 2, 8 (if applicable)

GENERAL

1 - I've answered this!

4 - What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Tirazel is the daughter of a robber baron (literally) who hates her vicious family but has been taught to value power, command respect, & aquire money. She thus likes actions which lead towards creating productive alliances, demonstrate subtlety, & show craftiness. She likes when you manipulate or deceive your way through a situation, or kill someone in a quick and clever way as a means to dissolve tension, or quickly take control. She doesn't like random, thoughtless violence, or killing when it leads to a messier, more troublesome solution than sneaking, talking, or using your intelligence. Anything that shows wit is something she appreciates; anything where you put your foot in it has her rolling her eyes. She'll appreciate attempts to explore the unknown and test out new means of gaining power; she'll dislike prejudice towards necromancy and the undead.

Tirazel ALSO has a soft spot for small acts of gentle kindness, and will approve when you pet dogs, save children, and be kind when it costs you nothing. (She, however, does not approve when you commit to saving the grove early, agreeing with the consensus that it is not the most pressing priority). She won't admit to this until Act 2 though, at the earliest.

STORY

8 - Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with? 

Oh, absolutely. Tirazel one hundred percent enjoys gossiping and being judgmental (she, Shadowheart, and Astarion are the petty bitch committee) but she does increasingly show concern towards the PC (if their approval isn't utter dogshit) as the game goes on. I imagine Tirazel being that one companion who will occasionally take them aside and actually ask them, directly, how they're doing - not in a motherly way, not to judge (Tirazel lets them do as they wish), but out of genuine platonic care. She's interested in the PC - in their likes, dislikes, wants, desires, dreams, hopes, and favourites, and is the character that will ask you about these things, out of curiosity, and will remember them. Her Act 1 comment will mildly scathing about your taste and probably poke fun about what your LI is like in bed ('does Astarion stop preening when he takes all his clothes off, I wonder? Nevermind - of course he doesn't'), but after confirming your act 2 romance, she'll take you aside gently and ask if you're happy - giving the opportunity for you to gush about your LI as if you're teenage girls at a sleepover if you'd like. If you're good to Tirazel she's a confidante and a potential best friend.

10. How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

Takes the opportunity to rib you + sarcastically take the piss out of Shar while she's at it.

'I'm all for rocking the boat darling – please, do not let me stop you on your ardent quest fulfil all the filthy desires in your rotten little heart – but really, in front of us, in such an esteemed and holy place? You do scandalise us.'

She doesn't disapprove though, crucially. She actually thinks it's pretty funny. If you do it again she'll actually laugh. Absolutely here for the PC to be a total sicko.

ROMANCE

1. Is your Tav a romanceable character?  Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Tirazel is absolutely romanceable. She's openly bisexual and will date any PC who expresses interest + is high enough approval.

2. Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

You need to flirt with her first. She's a) used to being flirted with, used to being desired, and b) busy with her own shit (in the middle of the worst family drama ever), not prioritising love/sex unless you express interest.

that said, I want Tirazel's romance to be about her trying to seduce you -- rather than the other way around. She spent a long amount of time in her youth being desired but being forbidden to express those desires, being forbidden to act on those, being shamed for much of her diesre - and so once you've expressed interest, complimented her, have shown your hand, she'll respond by trying to dazzle you. She wants to be an active participant, not simply a dainty doll on which you bestow your affections.

8. If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?

Tirazel is fairly frank about being open to polyamory – there's probably a romance convo where you and her, if you've indicated your chara is also open to poly, can flirtily speculate about who else in the camp would be fun to take to bed together.

In the case of Halsin, she'll laugh, tease you, and then tell you to enjoy your fun -- and note, while he's easy on the eyes, he's not really her type, so she won't be joining you (I can see Tirazel with practically everyone except Halsin, if I'm honest). If you'll indulge her, she'll ask you to tell her about the experience later (which can be gossipy or flirty depending on how you want to take that conversation).

[scholarlypidgeot]

“I swear, if you say that one more time, I am actually going to throw you out the window.”

"I'm just saying..."

"I swear, if you say that one more time, I am going to actually throw you out the window."

"I do not believe your security parameters to be sufficient for the Princes to be here."

Pat blinked a few times from the doorway, not quite sure what she'd stumbled in on. Two pale figures stood in the otherwise empty library study: Crown Prince Henry's tall Seelie escort, looming over the smaller but more cocksure figure of Ash Sterling. Both were dressed casually. Lucien Ivie wore a collared shirt with the sleeves pushed up above the elbows, suspenders, slack trousers, simple but well-worn leather shoes, and a cap pulled tight over his loosely tied white hair. Ash, meanwhile, was in her signature broad-brimmed hat, her hair mousy brown and let to rest over her shoulders like a cloak. Her blouse was a soft shade of purple over Basin cowhide chaps and boots. Both of them had their arms folded, and were locked in a staring contest. Neither acknowledged Pat, although she had no doubt they'd noticed her. She decided to move around the edge of the room and listen rather than interject - although, judging by the open window, she had no doubt Ash would go through with her threat. Lucien didn't seem to care.

"Detective, you of all people know this is a dangerous time for the Princes to be in public, especially at the University."

"Why?" Ash asked, head tilted. "Because the Golden Crown was seen here? Because of Prince Vlad?"

"Yes!" Lucien sounded exasperated. "That's exactly why. You don't see them as a threat?"

"Vlad isn’t the one I’m worried about. If you can see a spider you don't have to worry about it biting you."

"That doesn't even make any sense." Pat felt the cold sting of his gaze snap over towards her. "You, there."

The suddenness caused her to freeze with a big leather volume secure in her hands, but she turned her head toward Commander Ivie. "Yes?"

"You're the girl who was attacked by the Golden Crown?"

Heat crept into her cheeks as Ash snapped, "Leave her out of this, Ivie."

Lucien didn't take his question back, and Pat found herself nervously twitching her ruined right hand.

"Yes, sir," she answered, as confidently as she could.

"And you're the one Prince Charles is courting?"

She felt the red in her face deepen, but she spoke out before Ash could interject: "I am."

"And you don't think that's dangerous to the Prince?"

"Don't interrogate her," Ash warned.

"Why not?" The Commander's eyes narrowed in Ash's direction. "Is this bait for one of your infamous projects? A calculated risk to catch him in the act?"

"If you're speaking of Prince Vlad," Pat interrupted, drawing the icy gaze back to herself, "he wouldn't harm me again."

"And how do you know that? Have you seen him again?"

"Yes. Often."

That didn't seem to surprise him. He unfurled his arms to lean against the table. "And he's — what, told you he won't harm you again?"

"Yes."

"And why do you believe him? Or, better yet, why should I believe you."

"Because he's bored, and I'm a Keeper. If he's not in a listening mood he's in a talking one."

"Or a killing one."

"His attack was unprompted, and his addiction infamous," Pat concdeded, with another nervous twitch from her wounded hand, "but he'd hardly tear off the only ears that will listen to him without judgment."

Lucien's nose wrinked. "I don't like poetry."

"Then you shouldn't ask questions of a poet." The pressure of Lucien's interrogation had faded away, and Pat even felt a little smile on her lips.

Lucien turned his face away from Pat, and back towards Ash. "This just reinforces my point that she is a liability, and that if Prince Charles insists on seeing her she should be more closely monitored.

"No more than the Prince's double agent."

Ash's voice was just loud enough to be heard, and Pat couldn’t suppress the curiosity it aroused. 

The statement clearly took Lucien aback as well. "What?"

"Don't play ignorant, Ivie. You know what I mean." Her sharp grey eyes darted back to Lucien's face. "You can't pretend she and I are the only ones here who cavort with the Golden Crown. In fact, I'd like to argue that it's better when we do it, because at least we're open about it."

--------------

Word Count: 736

Word Goal: None

A rare appearance of Lucien Ivie in the wild! Being not at all weird or suspicious! Also featuring two of our beloveds I guess.

Thank you for the (5 year old) ask and thank you everyone for reading! I'm more than open to questions about characters, worldbuilding, or context, and if you'd like to be added to the tag list please let me know!

Tag list: @redheadedbrunette @irishironclad @that-catholic-shinobi

[zuol]

Proud of Myself

I haven’t written anything substantial recently. Things have been kind of crazy in my own personal life.

What does that entail?

Right now, changing insurance, and trying to figure out if I can continue seeing my therapist.

Before, it was taking care of my dog. She passed away recently and I’ve been grieving over her. An end of a relationship also happened; I experienced a friend breakup.

It’s now September. 3 months since I finished school, and I feel like I’m on the next thing which is applying for jobs. I think this is a universally anxiety-inducing experience, and so it’s normal (blehhhhh) for me to experience this stress.

I’m practicing not to worry by reminding myself that I am worthy of being loved and cared for, and not putting extra pressure on myself, because that’s something I’ve had a habit of doing.

I’m really grateful for the network of people I know, and yet because I am dealing with my own insecurities, I want to be skillful in my interactions. I can’t expect them to read what’s on my mind.

I had a dear friend ask me if I’m receiving enough support in the job search, and I felt really grateful for her question. She’s someone I practice meditation with and I’ve been so grateful to have her in my life. I told her that I was grateful for her question, and when I am ready, I would ask for her help.

I also got into contact with a friend/acquaintance again. He and I used to walk our dogs together, and I remember he had told me to use him as a resource. I probably wrote about him in an earlier post (I’ve had difficulties with him in the past), but what he said stayed with me.

It’s really wonderful to receive support and care from others.

However, I am seeing my own reaction and response. My lack of “readiness.” I could easy accept the opportunity and act desperately but I know that it’s important for me to know what kind of questions I want to ask, and understand myself a little bit more before asking for their help.

So, in many ways, I realize that I want to come back to myself. I have my own curiosity and interests and I also know that I can’t find those answers from my network unless I look deeply into myself...

I am 25 now, and I don’t even know what this even entails.

There’s still so much I don’t know and I guess it’s nice to embrace this rather than be so, so hard on myself.

It’s refreshing to be able to share this all without trying to make any quick judgments on myself. I’m the first one to judge myself anyway.

So with that being said, I feel incredibly proud of myself. For not knowing, and yet being earnest and sincere about this whole process of not knowing, acknowledging my limitations, and seeing this as an opportunity for growth and understanding.

Haha, even reading my post now feels like it isn’t cohesive but that’s not the point. The point is to share where I am at, and I want to be more honest about myself. It’s facing myself with all of my weaknesses and strengths, and not judging myself!

:)

[badheart]

“isn’t this something…sexual?” rei ended up asking, after going through the various images that the book displayed. not that she thought that was necessary the case, but it made her wonder about fang’s intention, or why the sudden interest in it. she gave her friend a glance, before feeling her own cheeks heat up due to her previous question. even if that wasn’t the intend, rei had sort of given herself away by that being her first thought. she should blame futaba for that.

“i mean, how come you want to try it?” a better question, & what that did not reveal where her mind had been ; feeling some sort of embarrassment due to it. her curiosity remained, though. paying several glances at the book before she tried to sort a knot just for testing. she held some of the rope to inspect, before glancing back at fang. “is it for someone special?” rei teased for once, flashing a small impish smile.

"It's a form of art," Fang retorted and looked rather judgmentally towards Rei until she let out a snort. "A little perhaps, ... if you want to make it sexual that is." She would smile at that, while focusing on her friend's features as she skipped through the book. Was she still checking for a guy? Honestly, it had annoyed her just a little bit, she was not stupid after all, but this was supposed to be about them, or well... just her, and not another talk about her friend's guy problems.

"I like to explore some new things, y'know... I am rather limited, so maybe I need to think more abstract." Unconsciously touching her ear in this moment, with her finger sliding down the rim and touching each single earring. Sure, sex still worked but it does not really do it to her anymore, even if the sight was still pleasant, she needed to feel, but her possible partner only has so many arms. That is, if she even finds one again. Sure, she could pay for such kind of service, but she rather not, if anything they should pay her. As of now, she tried most things alone, which was not always the smartest decision. She did not mind the sight of blood, but she would rather not cause a too big mess all the time, which was on her to clean then. If only someone else could do it, she wanted to be pampered.

Fang looked rather unamused at Rei, at her attempt to tease her; more of a touchy subject than she would like to admit. It bruised her ego, and she would rather see her skin bruise then. Even Futaba was doing better and she was huge, almost like the opposite of her. Sure, she relied on host clubs, but she still found a guy somehow. "I don't have that," she responded before inspecting the knot Rei had tried, not too bad. She liked to believe, that Rei held some natural skill for such things. Smart girl. "This is solely for myself, now let's try." Meanwhile she was not too hopeful, considering she sought more the feeling of pain than being restricted. "I mean..." Looking almost shyly up. "If that's okay for you..."

[peach-and-bugs]

❤️You Shouldn't Hide In The Dark - Villanelle x fem!Reader❤️

Fanfiction master list buy me a Ko-Fi if you'd like to show some support :)

Summary: y/n, Villanelle's unsuspecting target, finds herself in an unprecedented situation when she's attacked in the parking lot outside her flat, only to be saved by said hired assassin instead of killed...

Warnings: Dark themes, such as being followed at night, knives, biting, attempted murder and actual murder, graphic stabbing, mention of stalking, assassins (obviously), tending to and cleaning injuries, blood, and generally canon-typical violence

Word Count: 4,338

A/N: I wrote my first Villanelle fic! I only recently got into Killing Eve and I'm still on season one, but I'm loving it so far and adore the chaotic yet mildly gruesome nature of Villanelle and just had to try my hand at writing for her. I'm hoping this feels somewhat in character for her, and if I write for her again after watching more I hope to get her quirks and mannerisms down, so let's just say that this is only a practice for now. But besides that, I do hope you enjoy and as always, feel free to leave questions or thoughts in my comments or ask box, and happy reading! ❤️

Villanelle Tag List:

General Tag List:

On most occasions, you would have refused to walk home alone, especially in the middle of the night like this. If you’d checked your watch before leaving, you’d know that the clock was creeping towards two in the morning. Yet here you were, walking with long strides away from the pub, where you’d left your friends as they sang the night away at karaoke. You were reminded now of the benefits that came with driving alone rather than carpooling. Paying for your gas would have been better than this, you thought, blowing a puff of visible breath out of your lips. You wrapped your coat tighter around your shoulders as a midnight chill caught up to your brisk pace. 

The fortunate part of this situation was that you didn’t live far from the pub. Only a few blocks and then you’d be at Hyde park where your apartment was waiting with the heat on high. Your heels however had your feet begging for you to take them off. They were a new pair that you had stupidly decided to break into tonight. Granted, you hadn’t planned on walking home initially. You stopped with a mutter under your breath, leaning forward to slip the heels of your feet, letting the cool concert seep through your tights and soothe the arching ache from your new shoes. Standing up straight, you nearly sighed at the feeling. 

A ding from your phone distracted you from continuing your journey. Curiosity clouded your judgment as you pulled it from your pocket, only to find your friend drunk and texting you about what was happening at the pub. She promptly sent a video, which you watched without hesitation. You smiled, rolling your eyes as you find belted what you thought was meant to be Wonder Wall, but easily could have been something else. You began to type a response after saving the video. Something stupid about her needing alive in the morning. You weren’t even sure. You forgot your intentions the second you heard a rustling sound from the bushes that lined the sidewalk behind you. 

Your muscles went rigid and you squeezed your heels tighter in your hand. You felt a prickling feeling crawl up your spine and through your neck, warning and urging you to move. Footsteps clicked along the pavement from behind you but stopped just far enough away. You turned around, trying your best not to stumble over your own feet, but there were no shadowy figures to be seen. Your breath intensified and you felt like you could hear every sound around you. You began to walk again, faster than before. With a little more energy you’d be sprinting if necessary. The feeling intensified as you moved and now you couldn’t be more confident that you were being followed. 

The park was in view now, just another street away. All you needed to do was get to the parking lot and you prayed you’d be home free. Blood pumped through your ears and neck as your eyes darted all around you. The clicking began again, moving along the sidewalk behind you. The parking light laps were lit, guiding you home like the lights of heaven when you die. When you reached the corner, the footsteps intensified. You ran across the street, completely disregarding the notion of potentially oncoming traffic. 

Your ears were filled with the sound of your rapid breathing, pumping blood, and the pattering sound of your bare feet as they hit the assault. The tapping was now full-blown pounding behind you and with pure desperation, you darted under a lite streetlamp. Your heels dropped to the pavement with an inharmonious clatter as your hands began to frantically rummage through your bag, pulling out your keys and uncapping the attached pepper spray you carried for times like this. 

You listened carefully, finger pressed firmly on the trigger of the pepper spray. The pounding steps began to circle from the shadows just outside the sanctity of your streetlamp. You felt like a moth, hovering under the only light insight in hopes that some good would come out of your situation. You swallowed quickly, trying you’re best to keep track of where he might be, lurking just beyond your view. That’s when you heard the clicking. It was a back-and-forth sound, similar to the flickering of a lighter, on and off. Only this was loud and clean. He entered your view now, passing through the wall of light you’d been praying to with ease as you passed backward. 

He was large, larger than you’d ever seen, and smiled a crooked grin, toying with a butterfly knife between his fingers. The weapon appeared small in his hands. You felt yourself tremble, but you held your ground, pointing the spray to eye level. 

“I’ll do it!” You warned, though your voice shook more than you’d have liked, letting on your fear as you gritted your teeth. The man only laughed, continuing to pass forward, you felt the chill of metal behind your back, freezing your spine to the lamp that had offered you such promising sanctuary, only to fail you. As he stepped closer, knife clicking and swishing over and over, you realized you’d been attracted to a bug zapper the whole time. In a panic, you released the spray which fizzled out of the tiny can. He maneuvered out of the way just in time and slammed his hand into your shoulder. Your keys dropped from your hand with a metallic clatter. You felt air rushing down your throat as your jaw was unhinged. Your scream was suppressed by the ball of his palm, which only made him chuckle. he held you still against the poll, the knife flickering in the light of the lamp. 

“You're a pretty one, aren’t cha’?” He cooed, his words slurred from the alcohol on his breath. “Almost a shame. But I’d prefer a pretty penny, I think,” he trailed the tip of the knife over the curve of your cheekbone and down your jaw, knocking the edge. You winced, face squeezing tight as he laughed again, leaning in closer. Other than that, you didn’t make a sound.

“Hmm, you are pretty tough,” he scanned the parts of your face that weren’t covered by his hand, which was coarse and tasted of dirt between your teeth. He ran the knife over your forehead again, adjusting a loose bit of hair that fell in front of your eyes.  

You frantically began to search for something or anyone around you to escape his tightening grip. Your heart races faster with the periodic clicking of the knife as it inched toward your throat. The man maneuvered your head upward, exposing the skin of your neck. The knife clicked again. He laughed as you resorted to squirming, trying anything to move as you watched with frantically wide eyes. You squealed as the chilled metal of the knife met your throat. He began to laugh and you shut your eyes, frantic cries still suppressed by his palm. 

“Oy! That laugh isn’t very pretty,” a voice with a thick Russian accent called from the shadows, followed by clicking heels walking casually into the light. The man before you turned his head to look. You felt the knife slip ever so slightly across your skin and you had to refrain from shutting your eyes as you whimpered ever so slightly. You could hear the man grit his teeth angrily as the mystery woman approached with a condescending smile. Her eyes were wide and fixated, hands shoved into the pockets of her slacks as she stood proudly in a pair of black stiletto heels. 

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?” She asked, her smile managing to grow like a Cheshire. The man’s nostrils flared now and the gleam in his eye warned you to keep still.

“There’s nothing for you to see here, bitch,” the man spit. you could practically hear his grip on the knife tighten. When he decided to jump you, he hadn’t planned a course of action in the event he got caught. The woman continued to smile, shrugging her shoulders comically. 

“Then maybe you should have been better at your job,” she scrunched her nose as she spoke. With that, the man lunged, finally releasing you from his grip, allowing you to draw in a long, deserved breath. Every cell in you vibrated, telling you to run, escape to your apartment and report what had just happened to the proper authorities, but not even the adrenalin pulsing through your blood could get you to move. You were planted to your place, unable to leave till you know how the story truly ended. So, you slid down the pole, onto the cold ground and watched blood that wasn’t your spill.

When your attacker had lunged at the mysterious woman, she cackled proudly, maneuvering away from his outstretched grip and shimmering knife ass he pulled one of her own out of the concealed part of her pocket. She crouched ever so slightly, waiting for him to try again, and with a growl of pure anger, he did, knocking both himself and the woman to the ground with a loud exhale of breath from both parties. 

You stared with wide, unblinking eyes as they grappled with one another on the concrete. At some point there was a clatter of metal, signaling one of the knives had been lost. This gave the woman time to overtake the man fully, punning him down by his waist as she shouldered him in the chest, knocking the remaining air out of his lungs with a disheartening wheeze. 

You expected her to execute him immediately, but instead, she made sure to catch your eyes with hers, smiling as though she was performing. There was a ripping motion of her throat as she began to laugh again. The fleeting distraction gave your attacker time to gain his breath and he lunged forward, grabbing the woman's arm with his hands and biting down like a dog. Her laugh turned into an enraged shriek like the ocean’s sirens your mother had told you stories about as a girl. Her cry of both pain and frustration became one of force as she plunged the knife into the man, releasing his mouth from her limb. 

Your eyes stayed wide open and your hands came up to cover your mouth, suppressing any sound or shriek you might let out. It was now his turn to cry as the weapon moved up and down, in and out. But it didn’t click, like the butterfly knife, now discarded had. This knife sheathed and unsheathed from a casing of warm, wet flesh. His body was hot, spewing blood that squirt across your cheek. Your mystery woman continued to hack away at him till she was satisfied, though he was likely dead or nearly there by now. 

Then she suddenly stopped, knife half plunged into her chest once more as she stared into his eyes like she was watching whatever life might be left in him as it trickled away into the pool of red that surrounded him. She decided that the deed was done, she stood above his corpse, brow furrowing only for a moment before she smiled again. 

“He wouldn’t have made good bacon anyway,” she said casually to you as though she hadn’t just grizzly killed a man in front of you. 

Your hands stayed clasped over your mouth, watching as she approached you with a curious tip of her head. You felt your hands begin to tremble as he crouched down to your level, her elbows laid casually on her knees, knife healed lazily in her right hand. 

“Why so blue, boo?” She asked frowning mockingly as she scrunched her nose again. up close, you could make out the red blood, sprinkled and smeared across her face. She didn’t seem to mind the sickeningly sticky feeling. Her gaze trailed from your eyes and she tisked. She reached her empty hand up to your face and you flinched away with a loud gasp, hands finally moving from your mouth. 

The woman furrowed her brow and shook her head as you pulled from her, but she didn’t recoil. Instead, as you screwed your eyes shut, she reached forward and made contact. Her palm was warm and soft against your jaw as his thumb brushed gently across your cheek, leaving a wet stream behind. You opened your eyes slowly, reaching up to touch the same spot. You hadn’t even noticed you’d started crying during the whole situation. You timidly met the woman’s trained eyes and swallowed. 

“That’s much better, no?” She asked casually, her smile returning with another tilt of her head. 

“Y-you killed him,” you stated, trying to look over her shoulder back at the corpus that had previously threatened to kill you. The woman moved again, obstructing your view and catching your gaze once more. 

“Did you want to?” She asked. Surprised, you shook your head.

“But why did you?” You asked. Her gaze darkened at the question, but the curious glimmer in her eye remained. 

“I wasn’t going to let him take my job,” she said seriously. You felt your whole body urge you to recoil, but the light poll behind you kept you in place once again. The woman stood up after this, removing her hand from your jaw. 

“You-“ you stalled, swallowing thickly. “You were sent to kill me?” You pointed to yourself watching carefully as she began to clean the knife in her hand with the hem of her top. She said nothing more, nodding instead. 

“Are you still going too?” You began to stand, your eyes shifting, searching for a way out once more. Here you were, about to be killed by a man, only for a woman to come along and kill him, then explain that you had been her target all along. The whole idea felt straight out of a movie. The assassin sighed contemplatively, pressing her lips firmly together in thought.

“I’m not sure,” she said, crossing her arms as she turned to fully look at you. Her eyes scanned up and down your frame like she was trying to analyze if killing you would be worth it or not in the long run. “I was supposed to be the only one on this job, then piggy here came along and ruined that,”

“He smelled drunk,” you commented, unsure of what else to say. You looked down at her feet, grimacing at the clouded look of your original attacker's gaze. 

“That wasn’t a drunken decision this time,” she commented, though her attention had moved from you and to the red blotch of her arm. You touched the bite tenderly, hissing through her teeth at the sting. The action and the wound distracted you and you completely forgot about begging for your life. 

“Do you want me to have a look,” you offered after some time. The assassin looked up, arching a brow, which added to her questioning expression. You moved forward with caution, keeping your hands where she could see them. She didn’t stop you as you approached but watched you intensely. “Can I?” You asked again when her arm was within reach of your extended hands. She nodded curtly, offering up her arm, which you took into your hands gingerly. You traced the outline of the wound with your ring finger, leaning in close to analyze the definition of the bite. 

“It’s bleeding an awful lot,” you commented under your breath. You leaned in closer, your breath facing over the injury, which in-sighted a hiss from the limb's owner. You promptly pulled away looking at her face with concern for the both of you. Silence fell as she looked away and your eyes returned to the wound, but you didn’t touch it. 

“Are you going to kill me?” You asked her again, trying to sound firmer this time. She let out a huff of air, an annoyed crease forming on her brow. She looked down at the knife in her hand, rotating it as she said nothing. If she did intend to kill you, now would be her best chance. One swing of the blade and you’d be-

“No,” she interrupted your reading thoughts. She turned to you once more but didn’t smile. “If a client is going to post his price online, then he’s not getting my business,” the knife slid behind her, tucked away into her belt for now. You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding. Some part of that was reassuring, right? 

“Well, thank you,” you said awkwardly. “Can I help you with that then,” you offered as she began to leave.

“The arm?”

“Yes, the arm,” you nodded, pointing behind you with your thumb. “I’ve got a first aid kit in my apartment. And I know how to sew up something like that,” she smiled again and you saw that curiosity from before. 

“You’d invite the assassin hired to kill you in to stitch her wounds?” She was amused by the idea. You managed to laugh, albeit very awkwardly, and shrugged.

“I mean, you did say you weren’t going to,” 

“I could change my mind,” she stepped forward. 

“Then I hope that you don’t,” you replied, clearing your throat shortly after. “Not start putting pressure on that,” you remarked, pointing to her arm. The assassin smiled wide, teeth glimmering in the dark.

“Yes ma’am,”

-*-

Villanelle followed you quietly, noticing the tension in your physic. Granted, that tracked, seeing as that man had dared to lay a hand on you. It irked her that others would be after her target. It was very unprofessional in her opinion. She watched over your shoulder as you fidgeted with your keys, unlocking the door to your flat. Her eyes trailed over the apartment number till the door clicked open. 

“Guess you know where I live now,” you said nervously despite trying to make a joke. Villanelle smiled promptly, entering the apartment as you offered. “Can you take off your shoes?” You asked, interrupting her initial response to your question. She arched a brow, turning to look your way once more as you nervously smiled. 

“You know, just because of the blood and all,” you mumbled, glancing down at her shoes and then back up to her eyes. She chuckled, shaking her head, and did as she was asked, leaving them outside.

“I already knew you lived here,” she answered your initial comment and heard your slight change in breath as she passed, but rather than react she let her eyes wander around your apartment, taking in as much information as she could. 

“Right, that tracks,” you mumbled under your breath, dropping your keys beside the door, along with dropping your heels by the door, which you’d remembered to pick up as you left the parking lot. “Do you want something to drink?” You offered, which Villanelle found strange, given the circumstances of your unprecedented meeting, yet endearing. 

“Do you have wine?” She asked as she observed your shelves of books and knickknacks while you disappeared somewhere else in the apartment. She heard clanging around in what she assumed was the kitchen while she picked up trinkets to observe them closer. 

“I’ve got a little bit of red,” you called from the other room. 

“That will do,” she hummed as she moved to look at a framed photo on one of the shelves. You were wrapped up in the arms of a grinning man, a wide, laughing smile on your face, your eyes shut tight as he looked into the camera. She picked the picture up carefully, analyzing the creases of laughter on your face captured in printed form. She grimaced, wrinkling her nose in response with a furrowed brow. She put the photo back, through it toppled over flat on its front sash walked away, not bothering to fix it. Her attention was grabbed by a record player in the corner of your living space. 

She heard a pop of cork from the kitchen as she traced over the edges of the machine with her finger. She flicked it on, not knowing what record happened to be playing already. the center circle began to spin slowly, then gradually pick up speed till she picked up the needle. Putting it down on the spinning record, there was a series of cracks before old jazz started to emit from the machine. She smiled as it played, but turned around as she heard the clearing of a throat. 

“I just need to get the first aid kit,” you said anxiously, practically shoving the glass of wine into her hand and disappearing back into the apartment. “Can you sit down for me?” She asked, reappearing with a kit in hand. She obliged, slouching on the couch as she sipped her wine. you put down the kit and disappeared once more. After listening to the sound of rushing water from another room, you returned with a wet washcloth in one hand and a bowl of fresh water in the other. You sat down beside her but left a good space between the two of you. Villanelle stopped drinking, rather than focusing on the way you rummaged through the first aid kit, pulling out various instruments that she’d come to recognize at this point. 

“Are you not drinking?” She asked, her head lulling onto the back o the couch. Your eyes darted to her face and back to your hands. 

“I’d rather have a clear head for this,” Villanelle laughed into her glass as she took another sip of wine. She felt your fingers brush against her outstretched arm, moving her sleeve out of the way to observe the wound once more. She watched as you moved closer to her. You leaned in close to her arm to get a better look at her injury. Just by sitting up, she could take in the scent of your shampoo, right from your hair. She tilted her head, swirling the remaining wine in her glass as you began to work. 

“Let’s get this fixed up,” you murmured, washcloth in hand as you began to dab the injury which had already started to clot. Fresh blood sprouted to the surface, only to be dabbed away by the cloth. You rinsed the cloth in the bowl perched on your coffee table periodically, repeating the process till the concerning bleeding had dissipated. “Ok, now this will sting,” you continued, picking up a bottle of general antibiotic cream. You glanced up into her attentive gaze before applying and she nodded, finishing the last of her wine. You moved forward, gently applying the cream but her hand began to tense. You stopped, looking up at the nearly invisible line formed on her brow. You continued, wetting your bottom lip with your young nervously, moving fast to get the job done as soon as possible.

“Do you have any idea why I was hired to kill you?” The assassin asked unprompted. most of the time she didn’t care about the reason she was hired for a job, but now your uncomfortable nature had her curious. “You don’t seem like the type,” You froze in your movement for a few noticeable seconds before you shook your head. 

“No, not entirely,” you hesitated again before sighing. “I could have an idea though, actually,” 

“Tell me,” the conversation piece began to put you on edge again, but you proceeded. Talking might be better than awkward silence.

“There was this guy I knew in college. Seems innocent enough at first, but after being friends for a while, he got all clingy and persistent in trying to ask me out. I tried to let him down gently, but,” the assassin tutted her tongue as she listened, knowing exactly where you were going. “I guess the rejection was too much. He started getting creepy. Took a job where I worked and got involved with my group of friends. Even told people we were dating. And after college, he started tracking my movements, still asking me out over and over. A few restraining orders later, he’s the most likely person to want me dead,” the assassin hummed, listening to your story with shut eyes. 

She let out a huffing breath through her nose as you finished and moved on to apply the dressing. It had started to bleed again, but it wasn’t too concerning. Nevertheless, you chose a thicker, fiber dressing over a large bandage. You wrapped the dressing tight around the wound, checking with the assassin to ensure it wouldn’t be too tight. You sighed curtly as you finished and pulled away from her side once more. 

“That should be alright. But you’ll want to check and redress it for the next few days,” you explained, collecting your supplies as you spoke. 

“How’d you learn to do this?” Her eyes scanned over the dressing as she touched it gingerly, testing the tightness and integrity of your work.

“My mother was a nurse,” she hummed accordingly, getting to her feet as you left the room once more. You came back to find her at the door, shoes in hand and ready to bid you goodbye. “Well, thank’s for the help. And not killing me, I guess,” you halfheartedly laughed, crossing your arms and looking down at your feet when an alarming thought hit you. “Wait, am I going to be suspected of murder when they find that guy?” You felt your heart jump into your throat at the idea. The assassin only laughed as though the entirely possible notion was some silly idea to her. 

“As far as any cops could be aware, you were tucked away in bed the whole time,” you nodded, then got another idea. 

“Will he send others after me?” Her eyes softened, watching you carefully till she shook your head. 

“I can handle that,” she left with one more smile on her lips, only this one felt different. It was warm. 

[hanibalistic]

#A45B98 | PARK JISUNG.

genre | fluff

word count | 1533

warning | mention of biting people, actually biting someone​​

note | biting is my love language, and i have come to realize jisung has a very nice looking nose. thank you for indulging me @neo-shitty​​

jisung was fairly sure he fell in love with you, and he could not tear his eyes away from the ceiling of his room.

there was nothing but white paint on there, and the faded night-light stars his father stuck there when he was younger, and just that one weird stain of purple he wondered if it got when he was dancing while rushing his final art project in his room. compared to the boring ceiling, as he laid on the cold dirty floor with you by his side, he would much rather be looking at you, but he found it impossible to turn his head.

your intense gaze seeped into his peripheral vision, into his gigantic shyness radar just about a minute ago. the comfortable silence that fell over you two after a conversation ended broke when you decided to turn your head and stare holes into his poor side profile.

jisung could feel himself burn up as he blinked up at the ceiling. it could be the bright light of his room and the dryness of his eyes that were making his heart strain so much, but he knew well that it was you that was making his skin crawl and shiver. he knew well that it was your staring that was making him feel so bothered.

no matter how long you both have been dating, the blatant affection you held for him could never cease to turn him into a red, stuttering, grinning mess.

"your ears are turning red, jisung."

"i know," he replied to your monotonous yet soft statement, "you are staring at me."

"i know," you nodded and shifted your head to lay on your forearm, "your side profile is good-looking."

jisung pursed his lips together at the compliment. his heart was bouncing, leaping around like a child given what they wanted, simply because his partner complimented him on the most basic thing. "tha–thank you."

"i like your nose, it's very tall and slant," you hummed in approval.

"thanks..." he subconsciously touched the tip of his nose in thought.

"yeah..." you muttered. "you have a very edible nose."

jisung blinked. his slender fingers stopped against the bridge of his nose, pressing against the perfect bone and sliding down to the perfect button tip. his thoughts were questioningly occupied, and subconsciously his hand was testing out what exactly you meant by his nose being edible.

this could only one of two ways. it was either you meant it literally, like you could eat his nose, literally. or you meant it endearingly, like some type of affectionate expression where couples bite each others' noses.

jisung grimaced.

yeah, no way, that was a no.

the previous shyness complete gone, he slightly turned to face with you furrowed brows and concerned eyes. his fingers lifted, leaving only the tip of his nails touching his skin. "i'm sorry, what did–what did you say?"

your faraway mind took a moment to return to yourself. jisung's question served confusion as you narrowed your eyes at his mildly shocked expression, wondering if you had said something problematic. then, finally, as your words came back to you, your features relaxed into a more perplexed look—oh lord, what have you done and what have you exposed about yourself?

you shot up slightly as you scrambled to explain yourself.

"i... i mean like... well, obviously not edible-edible! i am not going to actually eat your nose, that would be cannibalism–i would never do that!" you waved your hands rapidly. "it is a compliment. like you have a nice nose. i say that about donghyuck too, actually. i think he has a very edible nose, like a nom-able nose?"

frustration ruffled your chest when jisung didn't seem to react too well to your messy explanation. he just looked more and more confused, if not more surprised and appalled that you were sitting there trying to justify wanting to 'nom' his close friend's nose as well.

your brain slammed against your head. all you heard was 'regret! regret! regret!' as you recalled your embarrassing justification of your fondness in biting, of your inability to express your love through something normal, of the fact that you don't really know how to love someone well.

"it's an affectionate thing, jisung!" you ended with a light slam of your fist to your thigh. "my primary love language is biting! i bite whom i love! i–i can show you!"

he scrambled up from the ground with widened eyes when you lunged yourself toward him. he felt your teeth graze his forearm, he saw your eyes squeeze tight and your nose scrunch up, and your lips did not touch his skin and you gently tugged at the flesh between your teeth. jisung looked at you, surprised and somewhat warmed.

you bit him and he did not feel like pulling away. you bit his forearm and he just let you.

his eyes softened when you dipped your head to avoid eye contact with him. there was disappointment and hopelessness laced in the way your teeth left his skin and you pulled away. he glanced at your shrunken state, seemingly afraid of his judgment, then his eyes looked at the teeth mark on his skin, he would kiss it.

"i'm sorry about that. i won't do it again."

"so how do you bite noses?"

your voices brushed past each other at the same time, the opposing message clashing together with fireworks. you perked up to find jisung looking at you with genuine curiosity, and you gulped. "what?"

he shrugged, pulling at his shirt as he adjusted his position. "how do you bite a nose? do i tilt my head or do you do it? you can bite mine, but i don't want to get in your way or anything."

the way you watched him with disbelief made him blush. he rubbed the back of his neck—jeez, maybe he was the weird one for letting you bite his nose! but he didn't hate it when he felt your teeth against his skin, he didn't hate it when the marks of your teeth faded visibly. he just felt touched.

he was touched, and he was bitten.

who else would touch him? who else would bite him? if not you? who else would love him, if not you?

"sorry if that is a weird–"

"i can show you."

you moved carefully even after jisung gestured for you to go ahead. you inched toward him with your knees, scooting slowly until your knee touched his. when his arm reached out to pull you onto his lap, bringing you closer, his face innocent as if being close to you was the only he should do, you could so easily melt with joy.

the chants of regrets in your head were turning into encouragements, into hope, upon jisung's hands that took an intimate place on the sides of your waist. he looked up at you, waiting curiously for you to show shower him with your unique expression of love.

he was the first one to wait. he was the first one to anticipate.

squinting his eyes, jisung leaned back slightly when you leaned in after grabbing a hold of his jaw. the same rush of redness he experienced a while ago came to him once again when you laughed against the tip of his nose. your warm breath hit his face in a way he couldn't imagine not loving, and your teeth grazed the tip of his adorable nose just enough for him to fall into infatuation.

his nose felt wet, it was your saliva. he didn't feel like he ought to wipe it. he could live with it, he could live with you leaving yourself all over him. he loves you; if you kiss him, he'll keep the kiss. if you bite him, he'll keep the bite.

"that's it?" he asked with a laugh after you pulled away, looking up at you as he scrunched his nose. "it was just a nibble!"

you laughed with him, holding his kind face in your gentle hands. a playful fire burned in your eyes when you squeezed his cheeks together and you shuffled toward his face. "what? are you looking for more?"

"yeah, i thought you would bite my whole nose! like just stuff it into your mouth!" he exclaimed quietly, reciprocating your action by leaning his face up to brush the tip of his nose against yours.

you giggled while pulling away. he must be joking, but his shy, cheeky smile told you otherwise. the recognition in his loving told you otherwise. holding jisung's face in your hand, your soft gaze examined his features, and you wondered how you have searched for him all your life, how you felt weak in the knees for him that it was pathetic.

"i'm going to start biting you," you whispered.

jisung chuckled lowly. "yeah?"

you nodded, glaring at him. "i only bite people i love."

"i know," he said.

and only people who love you will let you bite them, which was just convenient, wasn't it? because jisung was sure he fell in love with you, and he could not tear his eyes away from you.

[jishyucks]

Me and You Against the World ‣ hjs

‣ genre: royalty!au, arranged marriage, female reader, pls read an!

‣ wc: 4.7k

‣ summary: "I don't understand why they judge when they don't even know you…"; in which you don't let the words of others get in the way of your relationship with Jisung

‣ warnings?: Itzy is mean in this (but it doesn't reflect how they are irl!), prejudice due to less wealth, lots of thinking

‣ an: These events are what leads to this fic but in a different 'era.' Basically, I decided to just write the ending of this fic in a rich kid au setting instead of a royal au setting and just post that,,, but since I already wrote a lot of it, I decided to post it! It can be read separately but this doesn't have a proper ending.

i.

You can vividly remember the reactions of all the other princesses when they found out you were arranged to marry none other than Prince Han Jisung. They snickered and laughed. They blatantly shared pitiful glances, taking turns to pat your shoulder as if it could bring you a sense of comfort.

Of course, at the growing age of fourteen, you had no idea why they had been acting as so. From images and stories you received of the Prince, he seemed like someone who would be easy to get along with. So why the judgmental looks?

"They're the poorest of all the kingdoms, Y/N," Yeji pointed out, "Your kingdom is one of the richest, of course, after mine. Don't you think that's rather odd?" She traced the laces of her gloves and scoffed discourteously.

You bring the teacup up to your mouth, eyeing your friend curiously, "What do you mean by that?" You gulped, afraid that the image of your family name would be stained. It was not your choice, however, nor your parents'. You had been drawn to be last when choosing a suitor, and naturally, from the apparent reputation and wealth of the Han family, their son was the last left to be selected.

Yeji scoffed, the other princesses laughing at how naive you've been acting, "Obviously, their family's going to leech off of your family. I think your parents should rethink their decision of choosing Han Jisung as your future husband."

Shaking your head, you frowned at the meaningless words that your friend had been spitting out, "I don't think that's needed… Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Help each other out? How bad can Han Jisung be?”

Lia finally speaks up, "I heard that he rolls around the mud with their pigs."

"And… he doesn't even take a bath after doing so," Yuna budges in. She stirred the cooling tea with a miniature spoon, a smirk rising up to her lips, "Imagine how his bed smells. Rancid."

"I hear he's poor-mannered, too… that he lacks the respect a prince should need towards others," Ryujin says stiffly, "Just generally not fit to be a king. I feel bad for you, Y/N."

There was a brief silence between the six of you, the sound of Yuna's spoon tapping the sides of the cup occupying that silence. Though you felt yourself frown at the possibility that you were to be married to an ill-mannered prince, you quickly shook those thoughts out and tried your best to ignore them. You were taught never to be driven towards believing rumours or gossip in this case. Who were they to judge someone they never met? Except for Yeji, who met him through her brother.

"I ask you all not to pity me in any sort," you finally say, "Not until I've met him. Besides… those are just rumours. He could be much better than you hear." Satisfied with how you handled the situation, you straightened your back and took a long sip of your tea, mentally preparing yourself for your first meeting with the Prince.

—

Upon arriving at the valley region, the kingdom owned by the Han's, you immediately understand why your parents settled with their son. Though you were last to choose your suitor, your parents and his parents seemed to be closely acquainted, smiles on their faces and direct contact as they greeted each other. You stood back, watching the exchange begin and end, rather amused at how happy both sets of parents looked.

"I'm so happy you all arrived safely," the Queen of the valley region clasped her hands. The King nodded and let his wife continue, "And I'm so glad that our children are to be married by chance… All the other young princesses chose, while you–" She looked over your mother's shoulder and at you, "You and my precious son fell into this arrangement by fate's doing! The world wanted this."

Your mother responded by smiling fondly, "I never viewed the situation like that!" They begin to move up the stairs towards the front entryway, the knights moving along the four majesties. You followed closely behind, listening in on the conversation as you let your eyes wander around. "My mother had been upset that Y/N fell last, telling me I would not be able to choose the best," your mother began, "But I don't see any problem with that."

Compared to other castles you've visited, you could definitely see how much wealth the Hans did have. It was still very much a beautiful castle. It was well-kept and unique in build. Something drew you to it. But you couldn't exactly point out what part of it did.

"I understand your mother's perspective," the King chuckled, "No one likes being last. However, I believe that in such matter, no one is stuck with the 'worst.'"

At this point, everyone had entered the castle, and this was when you could see that the Hans were, in fact, less wealthy than the other royal families. Much of the furniture and interior decorations were quite old, almost antique, but again, it was a feature of the castle that drew you in. The outside of the castle looked much larger than the interior.

"Ah! I almost forgot," the Queen turned to look at your family, "My son is out and about exploring. We instructed him to come in time to greet you guys at the entrance but boys his age never listen." At the mention of Jisung, you almost forgot about him, causing your curiosity to rise.

"Miss Kim?"

A lady appeared from another room, hurriedly approaching the Queen with a bow, "Yes, your majesty?"

"Please escort Princess Y/N to Prince Jisung," she instructed gently, "It will be nice for them to get acquainted while we continue with our conversation about this arrangement."

Miss Kim nodded and waved you over with a motherly smile, "Let us go, Princess." You quickly bid your parents goodbye before trailing behind Miss Kim. Though her legs were short, she moved with ease, almost flying down the corridor with a constant speed. She didn't look back to see if you had still been following her as your footsteps helped her indicate your presence.

"I suspect the Prince is somewhere by the garden," she mutters urgently, "Or by the river."

"River?" you questioned. The idea of a river caused you to smile. Your family ruled the mountain region, meaning there were not many rivers to visit. A river would be a nice change in scenery. Miss Kim finally leads you out of the back of the castle, the sight of flowers taking over your line of sight.

"Prince Jisung?" she called out, "Prince Jisung?" It was rather enjoyable seeing Miss Kim run around frantically in search of the Prince. Your mind wanders back to the conversation you had with other princesses, how the Prince is ill-mannered, one who was not fit to be a king. With his absence in greeting you and your family, you're afraid that the other princesses were actually correct with this information.

"I'm over here, Miss Kim!" a voice called out, "By the pond!"

Once again, Miss Kim waved for you to follow you. You hiked up your dress and tried your best to keep up with her speed, though she still kept the same pace she previously had. She walked straight down the stone path, turning right onto another pathway, and then left, finally revealing a beautifully decorated pond.

"Ah, there you are, my prince!" Miss Kim had been blocking your view of the third presence, marching towards the pond. You let her move ahead, allowing her to approach the Prince on her own, "The Y/L/Ns are here… your mother strictly told you that you should be there to greet them."

Still a voice with no face, you hear him reply, "I'm sorry, I lost track of time… I'm feeding the fish!" There was a moment of silence as the Prince went to stand up, finally revealing the frame of his body to you. He turns to face your direction. His head was kept down as he dusted off the dirt from his pants.

"Do I have time to chan–" The Prince finally noticed you standing yards away from him and Miss Kim, causing him to halt abruptly in his words, "–ge?"

"Your parents have ordered for you two to get acquainted," Miss Kim stated, "I assume I will be the one to call you both shortly for dinner." At this, she turns to hurry back, leaving you and the Prince alone.

He bows stiffly, "Nice to meet you. I'm Jisung."

He bowed… that's a good indication of manners, right? You curtsy, "I'm Y/N."

"I know who you are," he says happily, beginning to walk back towards the main path. You follow, "You know they call you the 'Snow Princess' here? Which I don't understand because the mountains aren't always filled with snow." He looks back to see if you followed him, "Do you mind if we drop our titles with each other? We are at the same standing."

"I don't mind," you replied. You're taken aback at his apparent tendency to talk, "We are arranged to marry in a few years…."

"Well, Y/N," he begins, a bright smile on his face, "How should we begin?"

You watch as he advances forward, hands swinging carelessly, something you were taught never to do. As a princess, you were taught to cross your hands in front of you to give you a poised appearance. Jisung had a hop in his step, his posture could be straighter, and his hair was unkempt. You could already say that Yeji's brother, Hyunjin, was probably the opposite of Jisung. He kept himself tidy, he came on time to schedules and never interrupted when another was speaking. This is perhaps what Ryujin meant when she said Jisung was not fit for a king.

"How do you like to spend your time?" You questioned. You figured that this was a way to start a conversation, hoping that it would blossom into another.

Jisung hummed in thought, "If I'm not doing my studies or sleeping, I tend to spend my time here… just deep in thought." He raised his arms, presenting the garden to you.

"You don't go horseback riding? How about practicing swordsmanship?"

He shrugs, "We're short on horses right now, and my father is prioritizing the knights with the horses since they need it. As for swordsmanship, my mother wants me to wait until I'm older."

Short on horses?

"Ahhh, I understand," you nodded awkwardly, "If you ever come to my kingdom, I'll take you horseback riding! You seem like the person who would love doing it."

This sparks a feeling of joy in Jisung, a smile reflecting it, "That would be really nice! I'll look forward to that." He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, "How about you? How do you spend your time?"

"I do studies, like you… I read, visit the village. Horseback riding, of course… suddenly I can't think once I'm asked," you laughed, "But I'm often very active and doing my duties."

"Your life sounds a lot more interesting than mine," he grins, trying to laugh the sad reality off, "It's evident in the way you can't even list all of your activities." You could see his smile start to falter, bangs falling over his forehead as he looked down at his feet.

You feel your heart stutter, and soon you're frowning. The words you had told the other princesses echoed in your head. Isn't that what we're supposed to do? Help each other out?

Reaching out, you grab ahold of his wrist. At the sudden contact, he flinched slightly before relaxing at the realization, "You're still happy, aren't you?"

He nods gently, still dwelling on the fact that even though you both stood at the same social standing, his wealth didn't amount to yours, and he couldn't help but be embarrassed. He couldn't help but feel bad you were stuck with him as a future husband when it was quite obvious you could do better.

"Then that's what matters," you say. A part of you wanted to tell him not to compare his life to others, but you stopped yourself, refraining from creating emphasis on your wealth and his supposed slight lack of it.

At your exchange of glances and sympathetic smiles, the footsteps of Miss Kim grew closer. Looking over, you see as she's waving you both over for dinner. Jisung nodded and held up a thumbs up to indicate that you both were going to follow, sending Miss Kim back to tend to the meal.

Jisung turns to once more, "Thank you, Y/N. I'll live by that."

–

"So?"

Yeji, Hyunjin, and Lia sat around the table, eyeing you as if you owed them something of great importance. You stared back at them, straightening your back as you become aware of the attention on you.

"Pardon?" What is it that you needed to tell them? You didn't recall promising them any sort of information, nor did you have news to pass on.

"How was your visit to the valley region?" Lia questioned, "Was it all as they say it was?"

Yeji leaned towards you, "And Prince Jisung? Was he ill-mannered?"

You mentally bring a hand to your forehead, comprehending what it was they were expecting from you. You assume they wanted you to traduce the Han family and their kingdom. But despite the obvious difference in wealth they had from the rest of the kingdoms and the fact that Jisung lacked the training he needed as a prince, you found no problems in the Han family.

"Their castle was unique," you begin, "It was beautiful, actually." You use a fork to poke into the sliced fruit laid out on a plate, bringing it to your mouth as you wait for their reactions. As anticipated, puzzled looks rose up onto their faces, rather confused about your comment. You continue, "The interior was beautiful as well. Not as extravagant as the Hwang family's castle, but it was still a sight to look at. It was adorned with flowers.

"As for Prince Jisung," you could feel some sense of protection over him, biting back your tongue from saying rude things to those in front of you, "He's just as much a prince as Hyunjin. He's playful and carefree, is all. So I hope you all should refrain from listening to the gossip being spread about the Han family, especially since they're going to be part of my family in the future." The three of them sat back and nodded. You wished you could laugh at the embarrassed and apologetic looks on their faces, but to their eyes, that would not be very polite of you.

ii.

It wasn't until two years later that Jisung had been actually able to visit your kingdom. Though you did enjoy visiting his kingdom and enjoying the change in scenery, having him come to yours was something you had wished for ever since you met him.

Over the past two years of getting to know each other, you had grown much closer than you initially expected. Jisung had a view on life that contrasted to yours in more ways than one, and learning of the different perspectives of the world allowed you to adopt an open mind. You believe that he made you a better princess and future Queen.

Likewise, Jisung has been able to get a taste of what a typical royal life is like through you. Though his family was still able to experience the everyday duties and privilege of being royalty, there were limitations when it came to his position. Through you, he could at least understand what other things were expected of him. As he grew physically, he grew mentally, learning to appear princely in front of others without completely stripping the playful personality he had around those close to him.

Regardless of what others did say about the Han family, the relationship between you both worked well in all sorts of ways. You would always think about what Jisung's mother had told your parents, how you both were brought together by fate, and in that sense, you guys were meant to be partners.

"Ready to ride horses?" You had a mischievous grin on your face as you pulled the boy behind you.

"Why are you smiling as if the horses could kill me?" Jisung eyed you suspiciously, genuinely afraid of what could happen next. He stumbled over his own feet as he followed you, scared yet excited.

You laughed, "I mean, they can, but they won't."

The two of you finally arrived at the stable, catching Seungmin placing the saddles onto the horses. He greeted you and Jisung with a bow before speeding up in doing his task.

"I promise you, I won't let you get hurt in any way," you say. You asked Seungmin to bring the horse out for Jisung, who refused to guide the horse without experience, "You'll get the hang of it. Watch me get on and do the same."

He nods, listening to every single syllable of your words. Setting your left foot onto the stirrup, you grab hold of the saddle and heave yourself up after a couple of bounces on your right foot. You swing your leg over your horse, Blizz, with ease, quickly making yourself comfortable on the horse.

"That… that can't be too hard…." Jisung muttered. He mirrors what you previously did, setting his foot onto the stirrup and grabbing hold of the top of the saddle. You watched as he bounces countlessly on his right foot, unable to find the right time to pull himself up.

"Do you need help, Prince Jisung?" Seungmin questioned. You almost forgot that he was standing aside because of how amused you had grown in watching Jisung.

Jisung shook his head, mentally shooing Seungmin away as he finally times everything right and heaves himself up. Forgetting to throw his leg over the horse's, Buran, body, for a brief moment, Jisung's body had been doing over the horse, hovering as his foot stuck to the stirrup.

"Sung, throw your leg over!" You exclaimed, holding back a laugh. You shouldn't even laugh, as he barely rides horses, but you couldn't help but find the situation hysterical. Jisung was close to panicking, but right when he was going to back off of the horse, he finally found the courage to build momentum to swing his leg over.

"I did it!" He gasped. Jisung shifted slightly on the saddle to make himself comfortable, a proud and bright smile on his face.

"You're a natural!" You tease. You let Blizz move closer to Buran, mirroring Jisung's smile widely, "It's actually difficult getting on horses. I'm surprised you didn't have much trouble."

"Of course," he joked, winking, "I'm me."

You playfully hit his shoulder before going over the ways he was supposed to guide his horse. He listened carefully, never seeming to blink for the next ten minutes of your brief lesson, "I won't go any faster than this." You rode circles around Jisung, keeping your attention directly on him. Judging by the expression on his face, he was nervous to begin moving, "Are you ready?"

Jisung nods confidently, gesturing for you to go ahead of him so that he can follow.

"I'm staying beside you," you told him.

You both started off slow, following a man-made path that circled your family's castle. Jisung had great control of Buran, though his knuckles were white from the grip had on its reins. You assure him that he was okay, that Buran was well trained and would not go out of control even with the most hectic of occurrences.

"Are you sure you haven't ridden before?" You questioned, "Wanna speed up a little bit?"

He nods, "Not so quick, though… I want to ease into it." You nod understandingly as you both begin to speed up. He follows you, heart pounding at the possibility that Buran would not understand his controls, "I've ridden once before, but my father was the one controlling the horse… He let me hold onto the reins, but that was about it."

"How long ago was that?"

"When I was about five."

Making plenty of rounds around the castle, you decide to divert down the path down to the edge of the town. Jisung followed you, even moving slightly ahead, "Your kingdom is beautiful, Y/N."

"I could say that about yours, Sung," you catch up to him and let your gaze fall onto Jisung. The gentle breeze softly brushed through his hair, exposing his forehead. You could tell that he was slowly growing used to the feeling of riding. You figured that speaking to him was a great distraction from the nerves.

He smiles at the mention of his home before shaking his head, "Oh hush… this is about you." He returns your gaze, snickering once he gets a proper look at you. Despite you both being on horses, the space between you both would have been considered close.

"What's so funny?"

He reaches forward and picks out a leaf that had flown into your hair, "Since when did you get so messy?" Letting the leaf fly out of his hand, he winks jokingly at you, causing you to almost fall off Blizz.

"I've always been messy," you rolled your eyes. At the sight of the town, you advanced faster, making sure that Jisung was comfortable without your guidance, "The only reason my bedroom is not cave-like is because of the caretakers."

Jisung won't say it out loud, but somehow, flaws such as this made him fall harder for you. Though you appeared to fit how princesses should be, the more he learned about you, the more he understood that you were just as human as any of those he ruled and you ruled.

"Do you want to stop by the bakery before returning to the castle?" You turned back to look at Jisung, who had chosen to fall back slightly just to catch a glimpse of you, "You can meet Mr. Yang! He'll love you!"

Jisung nodded and trailed closely behind you, ensuring that he wouldn't lose you, not that he actually would lose you. The town's buildings grew closer, the townspeople walking to and from them.

It was nice to see the attire and the architecture of those who lived in your region. Compared to Jisung's region, where people often wore sleeveless or short sleeves, the people wore longer sleeves and thin layers. Though the weather was not at all bad, he figured that they had grown used to this type of weather and generally wanted to dress warmer. The buildings were built on top of platforms that separated the actual structure from the ground, probably to avoid the permafrost during colder days.

"We're here," you turned back, noticing the awe in Jisung's expression. He shook the look off and smiled, slowing the speed of his steed just as u had, "I wonder if Jeongin is in! I've known him since I was younger."

Jisung took time to hop off his horse before dusting off his trousers to make himself look presentable. You were ensuring that the horses were tied tightly at a nearby post, waiting for Jisung to join you. Once he had done so, you both made your way into a large building, the name of the bakery on the front: Yang-Yum Bakery.

"Mr. Yang!"

"Princess! Welcome!" An older man had his head raised over the counter, a deep smile on his face, "And is this Prince Jisung?" He stood up straight and bowed, "Welcome to my bakery. Princess Y/N has told me so much about you!"

Jisung felt his ears warm up before smiling back, "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Yang."

The baker kept the smile on his face as he moved down the counter towards his baked goods, "What would you like? It is on me today as a welcome gift to the Prince."

Jisung's eyes widened at the selection of goods, his mouth watering at how good they all looked. He could hear you thanking Mr. Yang, "Is Jeongin helping out today?"

"Unfortunately not, Princess. He's out doing errands for Mrs. Yang," Mr. Yang retorted. You nodded understandingly before turning your attention down towards the treats. You spot your favourite ones, the meringue cookies, and then the honey-bread, a close second.

"What do you want, Sung?" You questioned quietly, gesturing to Mr. Yang the two choices, "You'll probably enjoy any of them." You could see his eyes moving back and forth across the options, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I'd like those," Jisung points towards egg tarts, "And those, please." His finger pointed towards strawberry cream croissants, a satisfied look appearing on his face.

"Coming right up," Mr. Yang smiled and prepped the baked goods for you and Jisung, tying them into a cloth bag. He pushed it towards you with a warm smile, "I hope you enjoy them all. See you, Princess. It was a pleasure to meet you, Prince Jisung." He bowed and softly waved.

You and Jisung bowed back before taking your leave. Soon you both were back outside, people still carrying out their duties. They had not noticed that you were present, which you did not really mind. It was nice not being the center of attention once in a while. And while Jisung was here, you didn't want the usual fuss that occurred when you visited the village.

Speaking too soon, a younger girl noticed your attire, immediately indicating that you were a royal. She smiled and curtsied, "Afternoon, princess."

"Afternoon," you smiled back.

At that small exchange, others followed in pursuit, also noticing the presence of the Prince next to you. And because they did recognize him, you couldn't help but take note of the fact that people were whispering, which wasn't what usually occurred when you were in town.

Upon hearing Jisung's name in their hushed remarks, your ears perked, miraculously gaining the ability to hear the words they spoke, "Isn't that the Prince of the valley? The poorer kingdom."

"Yes… you can tell just from how he's dressed."

Shaking your head, you tune out the insults being 'secretly' thrown towards Jisung, who, judging by the look on his face, could also hear them talk. It was sad how people were so quick to judge.

"This is Prince Jisung," you say confidently, "The one who I will marry in a few years' time… I ask that you respect him as much as you respect my father."

They shut their mouths, bowing to follow what you had asked of them. Jisung's gaze fell onto you, hundreds of thoughts rooted from different beliefs clashing inside his head. The people had dispersed, leaving the two of you alone.

Though you smiled at him, he couldn't help but feel bad that you had to stand up for him. Every time someone mentioned the wealth of his kingdom, he couldn't have but believed you deserved better, especially because there was a drastic difference between your family's wealth and his family's wealth.

Y/N shouldn't be going through this…

"Should we get going?" You questioned, "There are more things I want to show you." You acted so casually about such a situation that Jisung could sense that you've already been in a position. Just how many times have you stood up for him?

Though the idea should be giving him a sense of comfort, he still felt as though he should be doing something in return. Securing yourselves back on the horses, you begin making your way back to the castle. There was a short period of silence before Jisung had spoken up, "You don't need to defend me, you know. But thank you."

You glance over at him and frown, "I don't understand why they judge when they don't even know you… And as your future wife, it is my duty to defend you. Besides, if it were the other way around, you would do the same."

That night, Jisung couldn't help but let the words play over in his head. You were right. He would do the same for you, but it was because he adored you. Did this mean that you felt the same?

"Part Two"

[faulty-writes]

Good day/afternoon/night, Faulty-san. I'm here to request from your Prompt Halloween event! This is going to be exciting! ^^

I'll have a Tenya Iida + Frankenstein/Zombie x Reader + Gravestone cleaner.

Scenario: 22 + Mysterious Love note at the graveyard.

Sentence Starter: 4 + "Your glasses are foggy"

That is all! Happy early Halloween 🦇❤️🦇!

This is probably my favorite way anyone has ever asked for a request. Sure thing, let's see how good this is. I love writing for Tenya.

If anyone wants to request from my little Halloween prompts, the list can be found here.

Before you came along, Tenya believed he was the only one that tended to the graveyard. Especially one this old, but his pride drove him to clean and mend the gravestones, the surrounding land, and protect the items gifted to the now-deceased persons. Despite believing graverobbing was an outdated occupation.

It was somewhat amusing to think such a thing still occurred in the world. But then again, perhaps he had no room to make proper judgment given his circumstances. He was once resting peacefully like the other occupants of the graveyard, yet through unforeseen circumstances and the ambitions of a rather questionable individual.

He found himself yet again walking among the living, though just a tad different than previously. He had several stitches holding various portions of his body together, along with two thick bolts that permanently remained in the sides of his neck.

His language skills were a bit strange, but he considered himself lucky in the fact that he retained most of his intelligence prior to his reanimation. Yet, he knew such didn't matter as there was very little chance he could have an intelligent conversation with another.

After all, a graveyard wasn't the ideal place to meet potential friends, and he knew due to his appearance he would only cause a disturbance and perhaps mayhem if he were to ever set foot outside this place he had learned to call home.

But, your presence seemed to be the only element bringing light to the otherwise dark and depressing place. His observation of you started out as mere curiosity at first, nothing more than an attempt to capture data on you and find out why you continuously returned to the graveyard.

But it became increasingly obvious that you, much like him, found it appropriate to upkeep the area. It was due to this selfless act that he found himself longing to speak with you, especially when you took to having a conversation with the graves as if they would answer the lovely questions you had.

It was an interesting or rather 'cute' trait you had, and he pondered for but a moment of the probability if you'd talk to him as easily as you did the gravestones. But, as ridiculous as it sounded, he was rather shy in a sense. That is, he couldn't think of a way to approach you that wouldn't cause alarm.

So perhaps he could figure out a way that would cause you to seek him instead. He knew your schedule by this time, which area of the graveyard you'd be doing whatever task in, and decided that a traditional method of capturing your attention was in order.

Though he wasn't the best when it came to written words or so he believed, a simple love note would be enough to capture anyone's curiosity. So being the rather clever individual he was, he waited until the next night you would arrive and placed it near a gravestone he knew you spent extra time maintaining.

There was a small concern that you wouldn't see it or that perhaps even the wind would carry it off, but even so, he would happily write you another. For now, he'd wait and see what happened. He took to standing behind a tree as he waited for you to arrive, a rather silly action considering he was rather noticeable.

But even so, he kept a careful watch on the area in which he left the awaiting letter, and just as the moon finally settled in the sky he heard your gentle footsteps accompanied by the sound of grass and leaves crunching softly beneath your feet.

He immediately took notice that your hands were placed behind your back and you were looking up at the sky. Taking note of the stars as they began to appear, a smile was on your face as you took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Something that made Tenya's fingers curl into the trunk of the tree as he further leaned to the side.

His reflective red orbs locked on you. Typically before you started your shift, you made it a habit to walk the graveyard and document what areas and or graves you had to clean first. Perhaps that sounded a little silly, but it saved you time in the long run so you didn't mind.

But this night felt slightly different and you weren't entirely sure why but lately you had been experiencing a strange feeling. In all honesty, it felt like someone or something was watching you and it was this feeling that had you looking over your shoulder and being slightly spooked by various noises that hadn't bothered you previously.

Part of you tried to shake off your fear, though you knew not many would want to dedicate their time to working in a graveyard. But you had always been strange and unusual in that sense, plus a little extra cash never hurt. Even so, monsters, mythical creatures and the like always fascinated you.

On occasion, you had dreamt of what your life would be like if you ever came face to face with one of these so-called "monsters" from the many stories you had read and or listened to. But there inlaid some disappointment as you believed there was very little chance of such a thing happening.

Of course, you didn't realize that your luck was about to change when you heard the crinkling of paper beneath your foot. "Huh?" you blinked and slowly moved your foot back. Your eyebrows came together when you noticed what lay on the ground. "...Is that..." you trailed off and quickly reached into your back pocket for your phone.

Tenya, who was still observing you, tilted his head to one side. His eyes narrowed from behind the slightly foggy lenses of his glasses, perhaps his breath was clashing with the cold temperature in the air causing such an effect.

But he didn't ponder such a thing for long as he watched you use your phone to illuminate the ground where he had placed the love letter. Yet he noticed your hesitation as you picked the envelope up and slowly turned it in your hand, he assumed you were scanning every inch of it.

It seemed like an odd thing to find in a graveyard, but a gasp escaped when you noticed your name scribbled across the back of it. A violent shiver ran down your spine and the paranoia that someone...something was watching you came back and you jumped when you heard a twig snap in the distance.

You twirled on your feet, immediately looking behind you. Despite your racing heart and rushing fear, you knew you were either going to fight or run away from the source of the noise. "Oh, dear..." Tenya whispered, though he actually felt like scolding himself for having made the mistake of letting his presence be known.

You clenched your jaw when you noticed a rather large and shadowy figure standing behind a tree. Your legs felt as though they were frozen to the ground and though you didn't realize it, you were holding your breath as you kept your eyes locked on the unknown figure. Your voice but a frozen lump in your throat.

But unlike you, Tenya was simply at a loss for words due to the fact that you were looking directly at him which caused that semi-familiar shyness to fill him. This was not something he had experienced before knowing you and while he had no logical way to explain this strange feeling that overcame him in your presence.

He swallowed back his fear and took another step away from the tree. The metal pieces sticking out of his neck seemed to reflect the moonlight and he was certain his stitches were visible as he reached his hand up to his mouth and cleared his throat.

"Hello," he said, his voice somewhat deep and seeming to echo through the air. You gasped and stumbled back, the unopened envelope still clenched in your hand as you looked in shock at the strange person before you. He could speak your language quite well, but why did he look so strange?

Is this the one you felt had been watching you recently? You continued to stand there frozen as the strange individual closed the distance between you. Your eyes widened as you noticed the many visible stitches he had, each one appeared to be surgically aligned. But that was not the only strange feature this individual had.

His skin was also a strange color but in the minimal amount of light, you couldn't tell if it was tinted gray or blue. However, you could clearly see he had two strange metal pieces that jotted out both sides of his neck, and that sight in itself made you cringe. Your hands pressed against your chest and your jaw remained clenched.

You didn't even consider that his shadow completely cast over you, making it quite clear just how small your structure was in comparison to his. You missed the way Tenya raised his rather unusually shaped eyebrow and the way his fingers flexed by his sides. "I..." he began, though once more he found himself at a loss for words.

His eyes scanned over you once more, taking note of your twisted expression which still looked so lovely. In fact, he could feel another odd sensation overtake him. That is, the heat spreading across his cheeks which, in turn, caused his glasses to fog up once more. Strange enough, this, in particular, caught your attention.

"Your glasses are foggy" you pointed out, slightly surprised by your own words. But you assumed it was due to the fact that you noticed how red those slightly blurred eyes were from behind those glasses and you were tempted to reach over and take them off before you remembered the envelope you held.

You turned it once more in your hand, tracing the perfect lines that made up your name. Then you turned back to the stranger and took another step back. Your body seemed to stiffen as you spoke once more. "Who are you?!" the demand left your lips in a scolding manner which seemed to catch Tenya off guard.

He looked at you with a puzzled expression before he reached up for his glasses. However, the sudden movement made you jump back. He paused and yet again looked confused before removing his fogged-up spectacles. "My name is Iida Tenya and..." he trailed off as he reached into his pocket.

"...and?" you urged him to continue as you watched him pull out a handkerchief and begin to clean his glasses. He seemed to take extra care as he wiped each lens in a circular motion before slipping them back on, ensuring they were perfectly balanced on the bridge of his nose. However, your eyes were locked on him.

It was clear you weren't taking any chances around 'Tenya' as you just learned his name was. Of course, your defensive posture didn't go unnoticed by him, and though he wanted to address it. His attention shifted to the love letter he wrote, still safely confined in the envelope that remained clenched in your hand.

"I..." he raised his hands in the air, fingers flexing slightly before they began to move every which way. Chopping through the bitter night air with ease and it made you flinch, but you quickly realized he was not intending to harm you. Rather he seemed to talk more with his hands than anything else.

"Forgive me, I do believe this will come off as rather unusual," which might be an understatement. He paused and quickly pushed his glasses back into place and your defensive posture lessened as he continued to speak. 'What is he?' you thought, if anything he reminded you of Frankenstein's monster.

Yet he was far gentler and intelligent. "But I am afraid I do not have a validated excuse for my behavior," it certainly wasn't proper nor the way he was raised to act. "Perhaps I have chosen the incorrect method in my attempt to find a practical solution to express this feeling of what I believe to be, affection," he rambled on.

You blinked and couldn't help but let your jaw fall open. "I...w-what?" you questioned, now he was talking about affection? His hands were still hovering in the air and he brought them down before reaching up to grasp his jaw.

"However, I do believe transferring and therefore expressing these strange emotions onto paper is quite an acceptable form of confession," the temperature continued to rise in his cheeks and small minor bolts of electricity were seen dancing around the metal pieces in his neck before fading away.

You continued to stand there baffled and looked at the envelope in your hand. "I...this is from...you?" that would explain how he knew your name, but you were certain all this was a dream and pressed your hand against your forehead. You took a few steps back until you hit one of the gravestones.

You reached back, almost wanting to apologize if it wasn't for Tenya yet again closing the distance between you. His face twisted with concern and his hands were held out as if he was either expecting you to fall forward or come to him. "May I ask if you are unwell?" it seemed like you were a tad wobbly on your feet.

"Would you perhaps favor being carried?" he knew he wouldn't enjoy seeing you fall or lose your balance. His lips curled before he glanced to the side, pressing one hand to his chest. "Forgive me, perhaps I was too forward," he said before he bowed and you felt your heart accelerate as he leaned back up.

This time, you seemed to take into account Tenya's large body structure. He could easily carry you, that was true. It seemed your moment of awe brought some form of amusement to Tenya as he gave you a smile. Then he took another step forward and reached his free hand out to you.

You stared at that open and stitched-together palm. You knew he wanted you to reach out and take that offered hand. But you weren't about to, not yet. This came as somewhat of a disappointment to him as he wanted to at least feel the warmth of your hand in his.

"I have been observing you and finding myself rather drawn to you and as a gesture of affection..." he trailed off a moment, feeling slightly embarrassed as he spoke his next words. "I attempted to write you what I believe is called 'a love note', in hopes you would find it," he explained yet again.

'Love note?' you thought as you ran your thumb against the slightly dirted paper. "Mm..." you looked back at Tenya who lowered his hand just before watching you slowly rip the envelope open. The letter itself was neatly folded in three sections which was yet another thing Tenya had taken extra time to do.

His perfectionist nature would not allow anything else. Still, you carefully pulled the letter out and strained as you tried to read it or at least make out some of the words. But in the limited amount of moonlight, such a thing was a struggle. As much as you wanted to read it, you let out a sigh and once more looked back at Tenya.

"...thanks," you said before looking away, the various sounds of crickets and distant howls of wolves echoed before Tenya replied, "You're quite welcome, but may I ask why you are not reading it?" one would think the answer should be obvious, but even Tenya had his moments of lapse judgment.

"I...can't really see it in this lighting..." you replied in a sheepish manner. "Oh...I suppose that would be quite a problem..." he frowned and tapped his index finger along the side of his jawline. Another unfamiliar feeling began to fill his chest, it felt warm and rather inviting. Was he experiencing that nervous feeling once more?

Perhaps, but regardless he would not allow himself to grow shy or reserved. However, the thought of you rejecting his offer did bring a sense of sadness. But one wouldn't know the answer to anything unless they asked. With that thought in mind, Tenya took a deep breath in an attempt to shake off the nervousness.

"May I make a suggestion?" he began which seemed to catch your attention. It was almost funny, the way he spoke was innocent and you found yourself nodding. The simple action caused him a brief moment of happiness, despite you not fully agreeing to his suggestion.

"I believe I know a location within this area that may provide enough light in order to allow you to read the...letter," he suggested and you couldn't help but raise your eyebrow. It was clear Tenya wasn't going to hurt you despite his appearance and he seemed rather genuine in his actions.

Though you were uncertain what would happen if you accepted his offer and the fact that your schedule was going to be thrown off was a small concern. Still, you felt some guilt as Tenya once again offered you his hand. Indicating that he wanted you to take it this time.

A gentle wind came and your grip on the letter tightened, you had to admit you were a tad curious what Tenya wrote. What was in a monster's heart? Regardless, you found yourself reaching out and a gasp came when you noticed how cold Tenya's hand was.

But his fingers which closed around your hand were gentle and you found yourself politely being guided towards the front of the graveyard. Perhaps this night would be one to remember.

[lilith-of-rivia]

The Bard’s Sister 

Geralt X Reader 

Part 2 

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

Masterlist 

Summary: Geralt of Rivia and his long time travel companion Jaskier find themselves in Jaskiers home land. A place Geralt had not only never seen nor heard of. Jaskier is ready to reunite its his family after traveling and exploring the world for 20 years. The one person he missed the most was his baby sister (Y/N). Who he hadn't seen since she was 5. The journey is long, but the pay off is grander then they would ever be able to predict. This is still part of our introduction to the main characters and their personalities in this story. Next chapter will be more about (Y/N) and Geralt. I know I am trash at summaries.

I would like to state that I do plan on adding a pregnancy in the future to this story. (I know Geralt is steril. Just bare with me and the story line I’ve created) I just wanted to let eveyone know because I would hate for someone to get attached to the character and story only to have a plot line they do not like for themselves. I know not everyone like pregnancy plot lines but I’m such a sucker for dad!Geralt.

Trigger warnings: Cursing 

Pairings: GeraltxReader JaskierxSister!reader

Word count: 6,369

(Changed from 3rd to 1st person) 

The sun was high in the sky, it was nearly two in the afternoon. The garden below the large windows of the castle was shining brightly. The birds chirping, children playing in the river that ran through the center of the city. Life was good. The sun was shining a little brighter today. It was because Jaskier was finally home. 

I hadn’t realized how much I missed him till he was back. After breakfast, we walked around the castle’s courtyard. He and Geralt introduced me to their horses. To my pleasant surprise, Roach took a particular liking to me, as did her owner. He was nothing like the rumors. There were many times that I traveled out of our borders into the western part of the continent, and every time people had nothing but cruel fowl things to say about the poor witcher. Sure he wasn't perfect, but no one was. 

“Would you like to see my studies?” I asked as we walked down the long corridors that lead to three separate staircases. I glanced between the two men that were on either side of me. 

“Your studies?” Jaskier asked looking down at me. I couldn’t help but smile. 

“I told you in my letter that I’ve been working with a man over the last couple of years. He has trained me well. But I have many books, drawings notes all sorts of stuff that I’ve written about the world outside of our home.” We approached the base of the three staircases. 

“I’ve never seen a castle so big in my life.” Geralt’s sultry voice flooded my ears once again. I couldn’t help but smile up at him. He was so polite. He never turned his nose at us. I knew he didn’t have a very positive history with others like us. Yet he sent no judgment towards myself or my parents. He just listened, followed, and learned. I had never met someone so open to the world yet so closed off that the same time, and we’ve barely even begun to get o know each other.  

“Our mines are some of the richest you’d ever see in your life. From coal to diamonds. Nearly 85% of all ores get mined and sent out to the rest of the continent.” I started walking up the staircase on the far left, the stairs led up a long corridor that was open and bright, the mountains that shielded us from the rest of the world in perfect view. Both were still by my side. I stopped at the first picture that hung on the wall. 

“That’s my great-great-grandfather, he only recently passed but he started all of this.” I looked towards Geralt. He was listing intently, his eyes on me as soon as I looked in his direction. I knew Jaskier knew our history so I wasn't too worried if he was paying attention or not. 

“He came here from Termieria with his 6 younger brothers. The mines here had been closed for many many years. The town was completely deserted. There was a serious necrophage problem that no one wanted to deal with, so they just up and left. Leaving the plentiful mines full for someone else.” 

“Necrophages?” Geralt questioned his eyebrow tiling in curiosity. 

“The people who inhabited the lands before we did, had not known of the creatures. Didn’t properly bury the dead. My grandfather wrote in his journal that when they got here the streets were lined with bodies that had been drug out of their shallow graves, crypts had been broken into. His best guess is that a flue came before the people fled, killing many in a short period.” I started walking ahead of the two men, down the hall towards my room. I pushed the door open walking in placing my books on the night table as they followed in slowly behind me. Their eyes wandered over every inch. Jaskier started wandering through the room looking at every picture on the wall. Most of them were sketches, mostly of him. Or the people he sang about in his ballads. He grabbed one off the wall and laughed softly. 

“Who is this supposed to be?” I walked over to him and laughed softly, my cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. 

“That, that uh was my first sketch of Geralt.” The sound of his name got his attention, he was trying to be polite and not snoop. Although I didn't care if he wanted to look around. He walked away from the door over to Jaskier and me. He lingered behind me, very close behind me. I could feel his body heat on my back and his warm breath on my face as he peered over my shoulder at the parchment Jaskier was holding. 

“How old were you when you did this?” Jaskier asked.

“Eighteen, maybe nineteen. It was after your first balled about your adventures with Geralt that started to spread like wildfire. I went to a tavern one night with a friend and someone was singing it. I was intrigued by the song and asked them who they sang about. I was told they didn't write the song, our very own Prince had. So I listened to them play it over and over.  I asked around the and so see if people knew what the famed witcher looked like. I got conflicting answers from nearly everyone I asked.” Geralt reached his arm over me, his hand gently brushing my arm, sending chills down my spine. His hand grasped the paper as he looked at it closely.           

“They got the hair color right. That was about all. Some people have some very wild depictions that I drew, but none in any seriousness.” The particular one they were examining was nothing like Geralt. They got everything wrong but his hair color. Many people said he was a scrawny young lad with the strength of thousands of men, making him easier to blend in with the crowds. Granted this was very early on in my brother and the Witcher’s adventures together so not many people had paid close attention to the witcher. 

“You drew what people described?” Geralt asked. 

“Yes, some people tried to pay me but I told them to give it to the needy. I traveled with Serena for a couple of weeks right after I turned nineteen, we didn't venture far past the mountains but it was enough.” I couldn't help but frown at the memories of the people in the towns scowling and sticking their noses in the air when I asked about the Witcher and my brother. 

“Can I see the other ones?” Geralt’s question took me by surprise. 

“I don’t know…” 

“Oh come on, you're very talented (Y/N), let him see them,” Jaskier said and shoved my shoulder playfully. I smiled softly at him but shook my head. 

“It is not that I’m self-conscious of my work, it’s the depictions of Geralt outside of our Kingdom, for the most part, were cruel and inaccurate beyond belief. I only drew them because I was wasting their time asking questions. I honestly don't know why I kept them.” I nervously rubbed the back of my neck, the idea of Geralt seeing those ugly, horrendous, depictions of himself made my stomach turn. He didn’t deserve the hate he received. I never understood why people despised Witchers the way they did. I only experienced it outside of our kingdom. For some reason, whether it be our pure lack of monsters or the abundance of sunshine, my people seemed happier. Less judgmental than the outside world. I was grateful to live in such a kind and caring place, but it does get rather dull after a while. 

“I’d still like to see them.” Geralt said softly as he handed the parchment back to me. I sighed slightly uncomfortable with the idea, I took the parchment and hung it back up on the wall. 

“Let’s make a deal,” I said turning to them both. 

“Oh boy.” Jaskier teased. 

“I’ll show you the drawings if you let me paint you now, so I have an accurate model. Not just words.” Geralt’s eyes looked over me, his arms crossing over his chest. A small smirk formed over his lips as he watched me intently. 

“If you want to draw me so bad, just ask dove.” The nickname nearly threw me off my feet. My heartbeat quickened at a rapid pace and I couldn't even look him in the eye. Jaskier snickered and pulled out a chair by my desk. He was enjoying this way too much. I cleared my throat swelling thickly. 

“T-that I uh..” I had never been one to not have words. According to my parents, I talked too much. Just like my brother. Yet here I was gobsmacked and wordless. I grumbled under my breath moving to the desk Jaskier was sat at and made him move. He got up and I sat down. I opened the top hatch of the desk, lifting out folders and files of archives. Some containing spells, some more drawing, history of the continent, and even monster facts that I knew I wouldn’t ever need. I placed the folders on the floor. Jaskier grabbed a few and moved to my bed plopping himself down kicking his feet up. My head snapped over to him as he put his dirty boots all over my fresh linens. 

“Jaskier. If you don't get your boots off my bed, I will castrate you.” I warned turning back around rummaging some more. I heard him kick off his shoes. Geralt chuckled behind me. 

“Fiery are we.” He teased but I ignored him. Finally, at the bottom of all my work, I found the folder. I held it up to him, not wanting to watch his face as he looked at the disgusting depictions of himself. 

“Thank you, dove.” His lip was right next to my ear. I felt frozen. 

I couldn't tell if it was genuinely just a flirt or if this was directed to me. Sure I had heard the rumors of the witcher and his many women of the night, including the sorceress Yennefer. But this seemed different. I snapped back to reality when he let out a low chuckle. I turned around and stood up, peering over his arm to see what one he was looking at. This one was particularly nasty. His eyes were slanted like snake eyes, large fangs protruded out of his mouth, and his hair was a crazy mess. His eyes were blood red, his nose crooked from supposedly being punched so many times. His face was littered with so many scars he had scale-like skin. I remembered the man who gave me that description. 

“I met this man in a tavern in Solveiga, it’s the furthest I've ever been from home.” Jaskier stood up walking over and looking at the drawing Geralt was studying carefully. I didn't know why he was spending so much time on such a cruel piece. 

“He said you came through a few winters prior, he and a bunch of the townsmen had gathered some coins so you'd get rid of a Striga. I knew was lying the moment he opened his mouth.” Geralt looked up from the payment, his eyes meeting mine.

“Why do you think he's lying?” I took the folder from him, and just as I expected the parchment below the picture he was looking at was full of my notes. Every time I traveled and spoke to people about it. My brother or his companions took incredibly detailed notes, I never wanted to forget anything. I took the parchment out before handing him the folder back. I began to read the notes:

“This man takes me for a fool. No more than some silly girl. While he sits here and tells the tale of the Wolf he seems to be forgetting the incredibly important fact about Strigas, they only hunt during a full moon. He keeps saying that the beast was hunting their people every single night, slashing children, men, women, animals, every night for months. He’s using it to fuel the people's hatred of the witcher. He’s attempting to claim that they sent for him as soon as they knew of her presence. Claiming the witcher waited nearly three months before coming to discard the beast.” I flipped the page over scanning the meticulous notes. 

“He said the beast was killed on a new moon, he said he remembers it so vividly because of the lack of moonlight while he escorted the witcher to her crypt. I may not be a witcher, but I am not stupid. The man is trying to make matters worse by lying through his crooked yellow teeth. How dare he tarnish a name for the sake of his prosperity.” Geralt chuckled at the last part making me look up at him, he had an amused smile on his face, his eyes twinkled as he looked at me. 

“Why are you laughing?” I tilted my head to the side slightly and he just shook his head, putting the folder of parchment into the desk. He knelt and began picking up the rest of the folders neatly placing them inside the desk where they came from. 

“Because you got so mad that someone lied about me, yet you at the time were not even sure I was a real thing-“ 

“Person.” I quickly corrected him. His eyes glanced at me, he didn't move his head as he continued placing my papers where they belonged. 

“What?” He asked. 

“You called yourself a thing, you're not a thing Geralt. You're a real living breathing person.” His eyes found my own again. My heart raced as he studied my eyes. I had never seen anything so beautiful. His eyes were like hot pools of gold and honey. The complexity of the colors was mesmerizing.

“And I wasn't only mad that he was lying about you, I was mad that he was lying in general. About something anyone could disprove if they just picked up a book on monsters.” I noticed the parchment with the drawing he was just looking at was on my bed. I grabbed it to put it back on the desk. Geralt's strong hand gently grasped my wrist stopping me. His other hand gently grabbed the parchment from my hand. 

“I’d like to keep this one if you don't mind.” I looked at him shocked.

“Why that one?? Of all the ones I've done you choose one of the most inaccurate and the crudest?” It made no sense to me. Why did he want that? Was it some fun game of his to think he was just some stupid monster? 

“Because it shows your talent in a way the others don't. And besides, you got my nose perfectly. No one can do that.” I sighed heavily not liking the idea of him possessing such a cured drawing that was drawn purely on lies. 

“Fine. Keep it.” He smiled vicariously. I’d let him keep every single one if he smiled like that all the time. The smile quickly vanished when Jaskier came back over with the first file he took. The one he had been studying was full of my notes on herbology and alchemy. 

“You are incredibly smart (Y/N), I felt as though I was reading Yennefer’s notes.” A huge smile spread across my face at his compliment. 

“Thank you, Jax.” Geralt was now walking around my room, hands tucked under his arms as he studied the drawing and notes hanging on the walls. Some drawings were of monsters, some of the random people I’d met on my short travels, some maps I’d drawn up so I’d remember where I wanted to go when I had the chance. 

“Your talent is very wide-ranging, little dove. I have to say I’m very impressed with your knowledge.” That blasted nickname nearly kicked me off my feet again. 

I looked out my window noticing the sun was getting lower in the sky.

“If you'd like to get new clothes I’d suggest we do it now, it’ll be dark soon and the shops close earlier in the week.” Gertrude turned to me, nodding his head. 

“Please. These pants are so tight I’m afraid I may lose my legs.” 

We walked down the street. The sun was close to setting in the sky. The cool air kissed my bare chest as we walked. It was a comfortable silence between the three of us. For the first time in my life, I felt comfortable in silence. I hated the quiet with most people, it left room for negative thoughts, negative energies. Most times when it was unbearably quiet when I was present was because I was shut down from talking by the people around me. I know they meant no harm, I knew I had a lot to handle at times. I was just lonely. Board. I only had a few true friends. Most of the people I grew up with were married and with children now. I spent a lot of time alone, I liked being alone. It gave me space to think about the world. The world outside my small one. 

We approached the seamstress, walking through the wood door. A small bell rang in as we entered. Hildi walked out from the back, a bright smile on her face. She was a sweet older woman, not much older than my mum. She had been running this shop for as long as I could remember. She was the best seamstress in the country in my opinion. 

“Princess (Y/N)!! What a lovely surprise!” She walked around the counter and hugged me softly. Her hands-on the sweater I was in. She made it for me many years back for a birthday gift. She always had the best gifts. Full of love. I did adore the woman. Her attention turned to the men next to me. Her eyes grew bigger, her hand gently coming up to her chest. 

“My gods. The rumors were true. Jaskier!! How wonderful it is to see you again!!” Her hands wrapped around my brother who hugged her back. I couldn't tell if he remembered her or if he was just being nice. As she released him she looked at Geralt who was visibly tense, scared that she may try and hug him. 

“You must be Geralt of Rivia!” He nodded. 

“Rain!! Get out here!! And bring me my Witcher’s guide!!” Geralt's eyebrows furrowed at the mention of the book. He shot me a glance and I just smiled. A few moments later Hildi’s daughter Rain appeared. She was my age. We knew each other in school. She was never nice to me. Picked on me. Would make jokes about Jaskier not being around. I never told anyone, in fear people would think I was nothing but a stuck up princess. Her presence made me uneasy. I slowly took a small step back, inching closer to my brother. Rain’s eyes landed on Geralt. I could practically see the drool pooling in her mouth. 

“Gods save me.” She moaned out. I had to fight off the urge to cringe at her outward burst. 

“The tales are true then?” She looked directly at me. 

“So maybe you weren’t lying all these years.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. 

Hildi was very blind to her daughter's cruelness. After her husband passed away it was just her and Rain. She’d do anything for her. I understood that. She was a devoted mother and wife. I knew how heartbroken she was. She walked to Rain and took the book from her hand and grabbed a quill that had been dipped in ink. She turned to Geralt, a very soft smile on her face. 

“Would you sign this for me?” His eyes bulged out of his head. 

“Y-you want me to sight your book?” I held back a giggle at his shock. He truly wasn't used to being appreciated. 

“Yes, please. If it is not too much to ask. Your stories were what got me through my husband’s death. Had it not been for the ballads and tales of your great bravery I may have not made it through.” Geralt’s shoulders softened at her words. He nodded his head and walked over to the counter. She opened the book to the first page and he scribbled down his name before giving her a soft smile. She gently placed her hand on his arm and squeezed. 

“You are truly a great hero here Geralt. If our country had a mascot, you'd be it.” Jaskier chucked lowly at her comment making me swat the back of his he’d. He hissed in pain and looked at me. I glared at him. 

“Do not ruin this for him,” I whispered. 

Hildi turned her attention back to me and smiled. 

“What can I do for you today my dear?”

“Well as you can see, Jaskier has a sore taste in fashion and also doesn’t understand sizing. I was hoping you could fit them in some better, more comfortable garments. Maybe a set of nice clothes for my party as well?” She gleamed. She hurried around her counter, grabbing a piece of parchment and measuring tape. She came back around and wasted no time in messing the two men. I sat down at a table by the window and watched as she rummaged through somethings in the back of her store. 

“So you're like a real witcher?” Rain’s voice caught my attention. She was leaning over the counter, her dress pulled down, the cleavage of her breasts on clear display as she dumbly curled her blond hair in her fingers. 

“No. I'm a fake one.” Geralt said back unamused. 

“But like are the rumors true?” She asked leaning even further over the counter. She was trying so desperately hard to get him to look down her dress. But he was simply uninterested. I felt my heartburn with envy. I hated that it did. He wasn't mine, he was nowhere near it. But the thought of him looking at her like that made my blood boil. 

“Rumors about what?” He took a step back from the counter slowly making his way over to where Jaskier and I were. 

“Ya know. About your huge cock.” Jaskier and I both choked on our spit. My hand flew over my mouth to keep my laugh in. It was a good thing her mother’s hearing wasn't all that great. Geralt looked visibly uncomfortable. He sat down in the chair next to me, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Jaskier and I were both trying to get ourselves under control after her question. She was completely unfazed. She thought she was hot shit. 

“Common witcher. Tear me apart. Show me the real monster you can be.” That sentence made my grip on the chair so tight I thought I could’ve broken the arm in half. I probably could have if I did not have any self-control. I’m much stronger than I look.

“Do not call him that.” I hissed. My teeth were clenched so hard I was sure I was breaking them. Her eyes flicked over to me. She looked me up and down trying to size me up. 

“Call him what? A witcher. Honey are you dumb. That’s what he is.” In a second I was inches from her face. I could feel my blood pumping thru my veins. 

“Do not ever call him a monster again.” I was a bit shocked at how mean I sounded. I had never been this angry with her before. I wanted to punch her stupid smile in more than anything. 

“(Y/N)..” I heard Jaskier’s voice behind me. He was very close to me. My hands were balled in fists at my sides. My knuckles were turning white with how angry I was. 

“I promise you, studying princess, he's been called worse.” She smiled cheekily at me and her hand came up and she attempted to pat my face like I was a dog. My reflexes were much faster than she realizes. I grabbed ahold of her wrist in an intron grip. I began to squeeze and bend her wrist back away from my face. Her face contorted in pain. She wasn't expecting me to be as strong as I was. 

“I said-'' I squeezed harder, and she gasped slightly as she tried to pull her hand away. “Do not call him that.” I threw her hand away from me before turning around and walking by the window. I hadn't realized both Jaskier and Geralt were standing behind me. 

Moments later Hildi came out completely oblivious to the scene that just took place. She had a cloth sack filled with clothes and placed them on the counter. 

“Alright, dearly that’ll be 45 coins.” She said as she wrote down the total in her book. I stood quickly pulling the amount from my coin purse and putting it in her hand. I smiled at her as best I could, Jaskier grabbed the bag of clothes. 

“If something doesn’t go right, bring them back.” 

“Thank you Hildi, very much.” Geralt said a charming smile on his lip. He gently shook her hand kissing the top of it. 

“Thank you, Geralt. It was a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger.” She patted his cheek as a mum does. I turned on my heels and walked out of the shop. The cold air hit my hot face. My blood pumped slow and hard through my veins as the anger disappeared from my body. Jaskier came out of the shop and threw his arm over my shoulders leaning into me. 

“Thank you.” He whispered lowly, Great not being very far behind us as we walked to the castle. 

“For?” 

“Defending him. Many people don’t realize how much he’s heard throughout his lifetime. I’m glad I’m not the only one who wants to help.” I turned to him and smiled. I leaned into his side hugging him gently before, turning around walking backward as I looked at Geralt. 

“If you would like, I’ll show you both to your rooms, and you can change. We can then have tea in the garden and I can draw you.” A soft smile graced his lips, his eyebrow rising softly. 

“You seriously want to draw me?” I nodded my head and stopped walking, but he didn’t. He kept getting closer and closer till he was a few inches from me. 

“Yes, Geralt I do. You have a special spot in my heart, not just because I believe you are a true knight. And many people are just too scared to admit that, but also for keeping my brother safe all these years. You deserve to feel appreciated.” His features softened as his eyes searched my face before settling on my own eyes. His hand gently came up and he moved a small piece of hair from my face. 

“A deal is a deal, little dove.” I felt as though my soul was being sucked out through his hand. Every fiber in my body wanted to pull him closer to me, to show him love, and tenderness. Something I knew he never actually had. 

“Good, follow me,” I said with a smile.

After I showed them to their rooms; my brother’s old room not far from my own, and Geralt’s which shared a wall with my room, I went down to the garden. My easel, charcoals, and paints were set up on the table as they came down from changing and freshening up. Geralt looked more beautiful in clothes he could breathe in. his attire was so simple yet he made it look like the finest silks and jewels. It was a soft cotton button-down, it was loos on him, his pants were tight, but in a way that allowed him to move and feel free. I could tell by the way he walked he felt much more comfortable and in his element.   

“You look like you feel better,” I said with a smile. Even Jaskier changed. A white shirt. And some black pants. He looked as he always did when I was a kid. The obscene choices in fashion were only adopted after he left home. 

“I do.” I plainly said, a small smile on his lips. He and Jaskier sat down and I poured them tea. They both snacked on a few fruit tarts while I began sketching the background of the garden. allowing them to eat and not have to sit still just yet. 

“So...while I draw maybe you could both share a story?” I glanced behind my paper and looked at the two. Jaskier smiled and leaned back into his chair fixing his hair and popping open a few buttons for the portrait. 

“What story do you want to hear?” Geralt asked. Leaning back, his shoulders relaxing, a small piece of hair fell from the bit that he had tied back. It looked deliciously messy. It made him look disheveled, nearly like he was right out of bed. 

“Wait!” I yelled and grabbed his hand gently, pulling his hand back softly. 

“I like it. Keep it.” his hand went back down to his leg to rest. His eyes watched me for a few minutes. I studied their faces beginning my base sketches. 

“What story shall we tell her Geralt?” Jaskier asked as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back to the sky, the last of the light kissing his skin. 

“We could tell her about the Djinn?” Geralt said back, glancing at Jaskier before looking back at me, a coy smile on his face. 

“A Djinn?? I’ve only ever read myths about them. You encountered one?” My curiosity was blossoming, the urge to get more details about the creatures I had been taught about.

“Geralt here was going onto day gods knows what on no sleep. He was beyond grumpy.” Jaskier tilted his head back up and looked at me with a smirk. 

“The git said my singing was like a pie with no filling!!” I couldn’t hold back my laugh. It was much louder than I wanted, not very ladylike at all. 

“Oh… I may have to steal that one.” I said in between giggles, whipping my eyes. 

“I was hoping to use a wish from the Djinn to help me sleep. But unfortunately, your brother got in the way.” As Geralt spoke I moved into his details on his face, my eyes traveling all over his beautiful face. From the way, his brows arched to the cute little dimple on his chin. His face was beautiful. Some scares were prominent enough that I could see them if I looked hard enough he had one on his cheek, it looked newer than all the others, the skin being a bit lighter than the rest of his skin. 

“What did he do this time?”

“He decided that because I told him I no longer appreciated his singing that he would take the Djinn away from me till I took back what I said.”

“And let me guess, you didn’t take it back?” I glanced at him from behind my easel, he was watching me closely, his eyes slanted like he was studying a pray. 

“No. No, he didn’t. And I almost died!” Jaskier shouted dramatically causing my eyes to drift from Geralt over to him. 

“Don’t be dramatic Jaskier,” I mumbled, putting down the charcoal I had been using. Now turning my attention to the paints I had in front of me. I started mixing the colors Id need for Geralt’s skin tone. 

“No, this time he’s right. He did almost die. Unfortunately for Jaskier, he refused to let go of the vase the Djinn was in. While we tugged on it, the lid came off. Maybe the Djinn knew I was a witcher and its curse wouldn’t work on me, or maybe it was just annoyed at Jaskier. Either way, it attacked him.” My eyes were focused on the painting, brows furrowed as he spoke. I waited a moment for him to continue but he didn’t. 

“I’m listing Geralt, please continue,” I said my eyes moving to his, the colores pooling in my head as I prepared for what pigments id be using to paint them. 

“I don’t want to interrupt.” I shook my head a soft smile on my face. 

“I will,” Jaskier said as he sipped his tea, looking at me. 

“The Djinn attacked my throat. Made it swell, I was coughing up blood.” My painting stopped as I looked at him. My stomach sank a little as he spoke. I knew Jaskier had been put in harm’s way before but hearing the first-hand accounts made my stomach ache. 

“Geralt took me to an elven healer that wasn’t too far from where the river bed was. Unfortunately for me, he couldn’t help me. But he knew of a mage that could help.” My hand started to paint again, filling in the sketch with colors on Jaskier’s face as he spoke. 

“We can skip over those details Jaskier.” Geralt huffed crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Why? Don’t want my baby sister knowing that we had to sit threw an entier orgey just for you to speak to the mage?” Jaskier snickered looking away from me to his friend, 

“Jaskier, shut up.” Geralt grumbled. His eyes avoided my own when I went to look at him. 

“An orgey?” I had heard the word but hadn’t ever fully understood what it was. 

“What’s that?” I questioned looking at my brother. His head fell back as he cackled. 

“Oh dear sister how you’ve been so sheltered from the world.” My cheeks flushed red at his words. 

“Jaskier don’t be rude,” I mumbled grabbing a fine liner brush from my pile. Adding some final detail into Jaskier’s blue eyes. 

“It’s when a very large group of people get together in one room and have sex.” The blood rushed to my head at his words. I could feel my ears turning red. My brother was right. I had been sheltered about sex in my family. I didn’t have friends who I could talk to it about, and never really had anyone in my life I was willing to have sex with. 

Unlike many women my age I never viewed my virginity like a sacred rose that no one could touch, I just wanted it to be lost to someone who deserved it. No someone I was forced to allow to deserve it. 

“Oh look at how red she is.” Jaskier snickered standing up and poking my sides. I smacked his hands away glaring at him. He was now able to see the nearly completed painting. All I had left was my Geralt’s eyes and some details in his hair. 

“Gods (Y/N), this is amazing.” He whispered his hand on my shoulder. I smiled softly, swallowing the spit that had gathered in my throat thickly. 

“Thank you, please sit down and continue your story.” Jaskier did as I asked. 

“The mage was Yennefer. She helped me. Saved my life. The mage and I may not get along, but I do owe her my life.” I smiled softly as he spoke of the mage I had heard so much about. 

“I’ll be sure to thank her myself if I ever come across her,” I said with a smile. My attention turned back to Geralt who didn’t look please at the topic of our conversation. His eyes were on his leg that bounced slightly. He was anxious. 

“Geralt love, I cannot see your eyes. That’s nearly all I have left.” At the sound of my voice, his head tilted up so he could look at me in the eye. 

I smiled sweetly at him. I broke eye contact as I added in the different hues of orange and a bit of red. Some gold flecks showed themselves in his inner iris. The depth of the color was so enchanting. I could paint just his eyes forever. I finished with his hair after a few minutes of silence. Both men just enjoying the warm afternoon air. They both looked relaxed, peaceful, safe even.    

“I’ve finished, boys,” I said whipping my hands on my apron. I stood up and turned the easel around to the two. They both sat up straight, eyes wandering all over the painting. 

“You, my dear sister are beyond talented.” Jaskier mused looking at me, a bright smile on his face. 

“We both are.” I smiled at him. Geralt was still examining the painting, his eyes flicking over every inch of himself. I couldn’t tell if he was pleased or not. It made me nervous.

“I know the hair isn’t perfect. I’m still trying to get the brush technique down-”

“It is perfect.” Geralt interrupted me, a smile on his face as he looked at me. 

I smiled back at him, my heart beating a little quicker. 

“Can I keep it?” Geralt asked. 

“Seriously?” I asked him. 

“Well, actually it’s probably best you keep it. I don’t have a home, so I wouldn’t want to ruin it…” I smiled softly, taking a step closer to him. 

“I’ll keep it safe but if you ever have a place that you want to keep it, ill get it to you,” I said, softly stroking the stray strand of hair behind his ear. His face tilted up as he looked at me. 

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night boys,” I said gathering my items in my hands. 

“What about dinner?” Jaskier asked. 

“I’ll grab something from the kitchen, I’m quite tired. I need a bath. I’ll see you both in the morning.” I said hugging Jaskier goodnight. I turned to Geralt, courage surging through my veins. I bent down and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. 

“Goodnight Geralt.” His cheeks turned a very, very soft shade of pink, but only for a moment. Our eyes locked again. 

“Good night, dove.”  

[stylistiquements]

There was the silence and there were the stars | Corpse husband x reader -Among Us AU

Among us AU : There was something. Something in the silence and the harsh coldness -that only space was capable of- that turned your brain into a sarcastic and bored mess. Maybe that’s why you found yourself so interested by any sabotage pulled on the crewmates, maybe that’s what made him so interesting to witness. He was different from the rest of you. Different to an extend you were about to understand.

❚ Word count : 4.2k ❚ Warning : A bit angsty but you will get that fluffity fluff and touch starve feeling you require I promise ; swearing ❚ Note : there will be no mention of death or killing as it is basically a real life Among us, just some shenanigans. Y/C : your/color

A/N : This little thing was inspired by -⭐️ anon. It was a fun thing to write even though it took me way too long because I asked my brain “sir may I pls have the focus capacity I need” and brain said no (: so yeah, this is litteraly just me ranting n complaining about space. This is a bit angsty but as what if is way too happy for me that was a nice opportunity. I hope you won’t mind and appreciate it anyway. As always just let me know. As it’s my first time writing like a one shot thingy I’m really curious to know. Also it’s supposed to be proofread but if you find any mistake just take ur glasses off. Thanks. Enjoy the wild ride. 

You met him again. He was fixing wires while you were downloading some files on the computer. Difficulties happened regularly around here; various oddities that occurred from time to time, sometimes a few times a day. It would go from doors closing mysteriously to no electricity, you never knew which one it would be. Those inconveniences used to draw a smile on your lips, a grin you tried your best to hide from everyone else. The sound of the urging siren resounded in your head like a call, reviving the last spared spark left in your brain. At this point, you were pretty sure it was one of your crewmates’ doing, too many coincidences for any other options to be left. You didn’t mind though. The game started months ago but still amused you to this day. 

He never let a word escape his mouth. To your awareness, no one knew anything about him, no one had ever heard the sound of his voice which you could only dare to imagine since the two of you met. It felt silly, you fabricated this voice inside your head, a half-finished melody you played to keep your mind busy. It would have sounded just as an old piano would. So slightly out of tune that maybe, if you didn’t care enough or wished for it not to be true, you wouldn’t even notice. 

You called him black. It resonated with the color of his suit and the darkness that emanated from his soul. Not that he looked like a mischievous character, but rather like someone who would have been gnawed by life for years. A shade that reminded you of the bittersweet feeling 4 AM forced you to taste. Describing that presentiment was a challenge you couldn’t take. It was one of those things that had to be felt, not narrated. 

Shit.

He caught you staring again. How could you look any other way? There was something with him that appealed to you, that pulled your eyes toward his direction every time. Probably only a peak of unwarranted curiosity you couldn’t really be blamed for, probably the oh-so mysterious aura that floated so carelessly around him. He always had this way of sneaking in and out, just as if he was nothing but his own shadow. 

Yet, being near him was easy. Silence only felt comfortable when he was in your surroundings. The whole world stopped existing -and it had in fact since the first day you two met.

He had dark charcoal hair which fell so perfectly in curly strands around the two horns that crowned over his head. Paired with two ruby hued eyes, he truly was a sight for sore eyes. A wicked and breathtaking beauty, so unique it gave you the impression that he wasn’t even human. 

He used to hop in a vent after finishing his tasks. As if his true home was there; a secret hideout for him and him only. You didn’t even know it was a thing before you watched it with your own eyes. Who wouldn’t blame him. If you could have escaped that warmth deprived place too, even for 5 minutes, you would have. 

That’s why you never asked any question about it nor tried to investigate further. Being stuck in space was only a kid’s fantasy, nothing a fully conscious adult would inflict to themselves. Which, in itself, was pretty much self-explanatory about everyone’s mental condition in here.

It was also a pre-established rule, no questions. No one ever expressed it out loud, but you would have to be a fool not to guess it. Every crewmate grew accustomed to the deadly silence only space had to offer. A giant timeless hole where nothing really happened. With nothing but the smell of technology and the constant purr of engines as the only distractions left. See, living in a spaceship was no ordinary lifestyle : days and nights melted into each other until it became nothing but a groundless concept. The crewmates perceived it as comforting for some reason. You used to shrug it off, no questions. How unethical would you be to disturb their peace? 

If you had to be honest, you would probably say that you felt bad for Black. Nothing like pity, but being alone in this stark and brutal silence for this long must have been pretty life-consuming. That’s why, even though it made your cheeks and the tip of your ears flame up in a raw and unforgivable tint of pink, you always kept looking into his eyes for one more second after he noticed you. Just to be sure he knew that he wasn’t alone in this shit hole. You stared into the depth of those ruby eyes, hunting for silent answers to questions you weren’t even sure of in the first place. He never quivered, only stood motionless until his task was completed. Just locking the eye contact. After that, he always ran away as silently as he existed. Leaving your head disturbingly empty. 

Every single time. 

Something changed one day. You were about to prepare some test samples when it happened. He jumped off a vent and you followed his movements from the corner of your eyes, too distracted to remember about the task that was assigned to you. He ran to the door and proceeded to shut it. Within the last second, the one that always lasted hours, he put an index in front of his mouth. Silently asking for you not to say a word. And before the steel door could obstruct your vision completely, you noticed a smile on his lips. A smile that made the whole spaceship turn inside out, draining the blood out of your body in a painstaking, almost sore way. There you stood, intoxicated by stupefaction and trapped as a cat. 

Black mutated you into a self-depreciating joke : in here, you were only interestied in the impostor. The only one who made your day a little better was the one giving nightmares to the others. 

It was him, from the beginning. It was him and he smiled. A grin that twinkled maliciously from his lips to his eyes, wounding your heart in an insoluble way. It made every prejudice you had about him crumble : he was no longer that miserable existence you sensed he was but a quiescent sun that could radiate all around him once unleashed into the world. How did he do that? How could he be both the tunnel and the light at the end of it?

When red came to the rescue, she described you with a glare. She judged you in the not-so-pleasant way. You could always count on those glares to know their opinions about you. Because their judgment would have to be expressed one way or another. She thought you looked suspicious, with your half poured concoction into a hand and the rest of it in the other, just staring blankly into the void. You wouldn’t blame her for that. 

It stuck with you for days, filling your empty mind with the sight of a smile that could no longer be experienced. The scene shamelessly repeated itself in your mind until it became nothing but a progression of disassembled images, forcing you to taste the astonishment over and over again. The problem was, you hadn’t seen him for days. And, even though you wanted to know what happened, you couldn’t ask. That was the rule. 

What would you say anyway ? Black is the imposter and I watched him close medbay’s door ? Yeah, I don’t think so. You should have stopped him in the first place -and you would have if you weren’t just mesmerized.

So, you took each day -or night … or piece of time, whatever you wanted to call it since it was no longer existent- with composure. Forcing yourself to do any task with a meticulousness that didn’t look like you. Just to make sure your brain was busy enough not to think about it or him. Being trapped in a place and being trapped in your own mind are two different wrestles, yet in here those two intertwined perfectly. Just like the rest of it, it didn’t even make any sense : the guy smiled at you for ten seconds and here you were, an absolute clutter of questions and recollection. You were probably just too bored and he, as always, was the perfect distraction. That must have been it, right?

You walked in admin. Your heart skipped a beat before your eyes could process who stood in front of them. 

Look what the cat dragged in. 

His hair twirled flawlessly above his face, almost hiding a grimace that indicated so transparently his mind. You leaned against the door frame and crossed your arms, unabashedly watching him as he swiped his card frantically while sighting heavily every time that “bip” of failure rang. 

Eventually, he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. You tried anyway, staring at him as if he was some sort of work of art that needed to be decrypted. From the way his chest moved heavily under the pressure of the irritation to the way his glowing eyes witnessed you. This expression on his face gave him a funny look, a scowl which made the laugh that tickled your throat hard to hold back. 

“Y-you have to do it slower. Otherwise, it won’t work” you stuttered. “I guess it’s harder since …” 

You walked to him carefully, so carefully you forgot your words. Just as if he was a wild animal who could run away if scared. Making sure no step would fall out of line. He was so close, so close, maybe if you tried to catch him this time he would stop running away. 

“Since it’s not my job, right ? Is that what you were about to say ?” he asked with a low voice, a voice you would have never dared to picture for him. Not the broken tone you pictured but a melody so sweet and so unique it felt like it was made just for your ears to enjoy, taunting you to dive into his mind.

“Do you need help” ? 

“I- hum- You’re not supposed to help me, you know ?” he stuttered, visibly amused, judging by the way his eyes wrinkled under his smile. 

“Are you gonna lock me in the room once again ?” He shook his head as a chuckle escaped from his lips. “Then who cares” you finally breathed.  

Your fingers brushed against his warm skin as you grabbed the card. You tried to appear unbothered, hoping so intensely for the swipe to be a first try success. That way, maybe he wouldn’t notice the way you breathed heavily under the weight of your pounding heart. But those red eyes piercing through the depth of your soul were hardly bearable for those like you who suffered from unbeknownst afflictions. 

You grew aware of his every move, the way those eyes fell on you, the perfume that emanated from his skin, the sound of his slow yet noticeable respiration.

You gave him his card back and he captured your fingers in the palm of his hand, making it impossible for you to escape his grip. Hiding those blushing cheeks from a sight that seemed to see everything was a defiance only the proudest people would be capable of. It wasn’t your case, but you counted on preserving the last sane cells left in your body. 

“Your secret is safe with me.” You whispered, avoiding any eye contact.

“I know that.”

 A simple answer that would never be enough to satisfy you. Yet, before you could review the best option of an answer, he left. Just as he always did, he walked away silently -still this time it seemed to last an eternity- while you just stood there inertly as you watched his black silhouette disappear into the endless gray hallways. 

You finally caught the breath you had been holding this whole time. Leaning over, you observed your reflection into the screen of the digital tablet as you rubbed your hands together, hoping for that strange spike of electricity that ran through your fingers to fade away quickly. A mess.

“There you are, Corpse” green said as he sat cross-legged in black’s secret place “I’ve been looking for you.”

Corpse was the name green chose for Black, feeling like it would be the most suitable image for the one who always worked in the shadow. Not the most refined nickname, yet black ironically related to that. Silent as a Corpse, he thought. A level of sarcasm that amused him and which probably led to him immediately falling in love with it. 

Corpse observed the little sprout on the top of Green’s head. It floated lightly and followed his every move. What a little freak. Just a thing deprived of any sort of self consciousness, out of this world just like he felt he was. Corpse remained fixated on it, hoping he could get as self-aware as it was. The last impromptu reunion he had with you was nothing he had planned, nothing that should have happened. He wouldn’t exactly call it a mistake and still, he had no one else but him to blame.

“Did something happened with y/c ? You seem a little flustered.” Green asked, pulling Corpse out of his overflowed mind. 

“I don’t know, I think I kinda fucked up.” He replied with a shrug. “I’ve been spotted.”

“Was it really a mistake ?”

Green was the only one who was granted with the privilege of learning how to understand Corpse. Because, deep inside, they grew up to be the same kind : the kind that didn’t belong here. Two sides of the same coin. 

Green’s social intelligence, on the other hand, Black didn’t like it that much. Thanks to that guy, he would be able to work comfortably in the darkness, where no one could see him, but it also meant that he saw clearly what was going through Corpse’s mind. Actually, it didn’t take him too long. 

What was the surprise when he realized it was you who lived rent-free in his thoughts? See, in Corpse’s eyes you were different from the others : too conscious about the reality that happened before yours eyes. It made you interesting to observe. What a delightful sight it was to watch you rolling your eyes in your crewmates’ face, to notice the serious look you had when you were focused on a task, the way your eyes sparkled every time a new sabotage was made. He wouldn’t track you, yet he would never resist a peek once your paths crossed. It happened often, more than you actually realized.

Yet, Corpse was no fool. You and him never belonged together. You were destined to a bright destiny and he was the obscurity. That’s why he was more than careful not to get too close, not to see his bare mind get burnt under the exposition of those peculiar feelings in the pit of his stomach. 

That’s why his previous reaction made no sense to him. But what could he say? You took him aback when those words were directed at him. You made his short-circuited brain unable to be sensible anymore. He just wanted to know what your touch would feel like under his fingers. Why was his skin blazing with electricity now ?

Corpse swallowed it all. From the blossoming feeling inside his body and mind to the warmth and the softness of your skin. He couldn’t feel that way. “I’m not really sure.” he finally said, as honest as he could be with himself. 

He would spend his next few days planning with Green, cornering you to a small part of his brain. You couldn’t be there, you had no right to be. The game was progressing faster than they anticipated it. It made him thrilled, accepting the challenge no one but the two of them could bear. 

However, a new unwanted seed grew into his mind. The idea that, maybe, you were only by his side in this game. That, maybe he would never be able to witness your existence in the real world.

“Have you ever noticed how weird the stars look sometimes ?” Corpse asked as he joined navigation. You jumped and your mind turned into a scattered place stuck between a task you battled to achieve and the proximity left between the two of you. Your heart beat in rhythm with his echoing, never ending footsteps. Still you had, indeed, noticed. “It’s like they’re not even real” you answered with a smile that made your voice higher. A melodic lift that betrayed your intention of ever finishing your job. 

When you finally looked at him, his lips moved into a satisfied curve. Shivers tickled your arms and your neck. Maybe because he was just standing so perfectly still in front of the glass window. So perfectly still that, among all those celestial bodies, he appeared to be the most beautiful one.  “Mind keeping me company for a bit?” Your mouth betrayed you when the question escaped your grip. But Corpse snorted faintly and shook his head.

“From all the people in here you want to spend time with me ? That’s probably not your wisest decision.” He said as he tried to muffle a high pitch laugh with a hand that covered his mouth.

See, that’s the words he had been afraid of since the first time he saw you. The words he would have to turn into derision since he knew he would have no strength to refuse. Yet, you stood there with those glimmering eyes and those eyebrows that arched in a strange manner, cutting every single inch of air out of his lungs. Even if he wanted to say no -and he should- he wouldn’t have been able to.

It was never meant to happen, not judging by your two so hostily opposed nature. Fuck that shit. Who cared about that speech when you were here and you were so beautiful?

You moved closer to him, a strenuous and slow tense that shouldn’t be disregarded. You’ve had seen the same scenery for months yet never it made you feel the same way as you did at that very moment. Because those balls of lights floating into the void shimmered in his ruby hued iris just as a dozen of fireflies would. He made your world a little blurry, narrowed to his presence at your side.

“You forgave me really easily the last time we met.” He noticed. “That’s a little sus if you asked me.”

“Well, what can I say ? You’re the only distraction I have left, so I’m not really in the position to hold grudges.” You shrugged sarcastically. 

“You’re really funny, I have to concede that” he said as his smile made its way to his eyes. 

Your brutally honest words intertwined with his chuckles and crewmates never heard the spaceship as lively as that time. That time when you got to discover who Corpse really was. A man who hid his blooming existence behind a silence.

“Why did you stay silent this whole time ?” You dared to ask before the silence fell upon the two of you, a silence that maybe you wouldn’t be able to endure this time.

“Because I never wanted to lie”

“I- ...hum- there’s really nothing I could say against that, right ?”

With every grin, every chuckle, every abrupt eye contact, your proximity kept embedding his mind a little deeper until you stole the stars’ show completely. It’s no good, you held his breath hostage when he realized he could feel the warmth stemming out of your skin. So tempted to get closer and witness it with further clearness. 

Thus, he lifted a hand that starved connection. He tried to close the gap between your two touches so prudently, so discreetly that you didn’t even notice. A touch, that would go beyond his movement, more like a proof he needed to make sure someone like you really existed in a shithole like this.  

He was so close. 

Yet, the alarm rang before he could embrace the object of his desire. “Better check that out quickly” you said with a sigh. Somehow, it felt peculiar just knowing that, this time, you were the one running away. A sense of some sort of joke played by space. As if space hadn’t done enough. When Green cut the communication, he couldn’t realize -If only he knew the double meaning of that sabotage. Ah, the irony of it all. 

“I’ll see you soon” Corpse informed you, more of a promise than a farewell and he stayed there long enough, staring numbly at his hand.

You ran until the communication room, holding this bittersweet feeling on the tip of your tongue. You tried to swallow it and almost found yourself praying that no one would arrive before you could. This way, maybe your fugue would make more sense. 

Blue was already sitting on the floor, trying to find the good frequencies. “I’m already on it.” she said on a plain, monotone voice. Of course, she fucking would be. 

Now what was left to do ? Corpse was probably already gone and-and the silence … the silence had returned. A dead, cold, cruel silence. It tested out your nerves, built up some pressure down your throat that made keeping your composure barely possible. Corpse slipped between your fingers again. The game was no longer a funny and pleasant diversion from the plain, austere daily life you had. You grew tired of that cat and mouse game. You just wanted him.

After going back to the oh-so empty navigation room, you completed your tasks. And you were finally done. You wandered around for hours, days -who knows-, searching for a purpose. 

The game was coming to an end, you could feel it. Something in the air changed, it became dryer than ever. Unbearable on your skin that ached for something you couldn’t apprehend. The crewmates were agitated, everyone kept running around day and night just to make sure the last tasks would be completed as soon as possible. New difficulties were triggered almost as soon as the last ones ended. Chaos. 

Just as if he wasn’t ready to end the game so soon, as if he didn’t want to get the hell out of this place as much as you did. From time to time, you almost found yourself eager to ignore the alarm. Taunting him one last time by neglecting his call. 

Maybe that way he would show up, maybe that way he would stay with you. Yeah, maybe that way he would stop being nothing but an ephemeral being that almost made you wonder if you finally gave up on your mind to the silence. Because at that moment he only felt like a chimera your brain created to protect you. Because you were just so fucking bored.  

You gave up on that idea, turning on the CCTV as you sighed. Just to see more colorful suits running around, trying to hold their shit together for what appeared to be the ultimate hour. Despite all the sabotages, it seemed like your number made your strength. You imagined Corpse’s face, probably piqued. A dark frown covering his pretty eyes. It made your lips twitch for a second. Who knew it would end this way ? Definitely not you. 

Yet that amused smile faded away when you heard the familiar sound of the door closing, locking you in yet another time. You rolled your eyes and turned around, unprepared to witness who locked themselves with you. His body laid against the door, guarding it as his chest moved frenetically under the weight of his rushing breath. 

“This is the end” he whispered frantically under his breath. He doesn’t look as worried as you thought he would, but it didn’t matter. You moved impulsively toward him, never stopping until he snaked a hand around your waist and slipped the other one in your back. That way, this time, there were no escape. 

He let his head rest in the hollow of your neck, soaking the divine and comforting warmth you had to offer. His warm breath on your skin sent shivers through your body which responded by squeezing him a little tighter, holding him as close to your heart as humanly possible. You could feel his, beating so fast.

“This is the end.” His whisper grounded on your skin. 

He lifted his head to dive into your eyes with the same sweet smile you offered him. The one which expressed the happiness, the relievment it felt to embrace him. 

“If it were for you, I would do it all over again.” You said, pressing your forehead against his, sharing a breath as you closed your eyes. One last attempt to memorize everything about him. You sensed his smile, so wide you didn’t even have to look at it to see. He left a trail of kisses on your cheeks and your hand wandered in his hair as a faint gasp escaped your lips.

Corpse looked back at you. And then, as his thumb drew light circles on your cheek. With glowing eyes that translated all the adoration he felt for you, he whispered “Maybe it was just meant to be”. And then, he closed the distance between the two of you, brushing your lips softly at first before capturing them completely once he was sure you felt the same way as he did. A kiss that tasted like 4AM and home. 

“I’ll find my way back to you, my love. I’ll find you in the real world.” He promised.