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thesilmarillionblog · 7 months ago

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A CHRISTMAS CAROL

THE BOYS: Christmas Special 🎄

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Along with other team members and their infants, Soldier Boy and you decide to spend Christmas at Butcher's house with your three children. He has to act nice.

Warnings: discussion of divorce, bittersweet, fluff, angst with sweet ending. everyone has children, Ben sings "Rapture".

Word Count: 4044

A/N: English is not my first language. Divider: @strangergraphics ❤️

When your oldest child, a three-year-old son, told you he had to pee, you screamed out Ben's name while you were packing your babies' luggage.

Since he had been working on mending his car since the morning and you were here trying to care for all three of your babies at once, you practically yelled out his name, “Ben!” once more in an attempt to obtain some of his help. Actually, since your first child was only three, you had no intention of having any more. Ben was the reason you became pregnant so quickly for the second time. It was almost amusing how certain he was that he hadn't come inside you that night and pulled back just in time. Almost.

Tonight, you were going to spend the Christmas with others and their babies at Butcher's house. Your son enjoyed spending time with Ryan, and you thought it would be a warm and lovely Christmas to hear all of your kids screaming and having a good time together. Additionally, you wanted Ben to interact with his grandson. It wasn't the sweetest time for them years ago. Ryan was a kind and lovely kid.

You apologized by kissing both of your babies on the forehead after they both jumped in fright at how you spoke. “Sorry, sweet little pies.”

You said, “You hold on a little more, sweetheart,” as Ben eventually entered the house and shut the door.

He asked, “What now?” as though he couldn't see how much you were struggling, which made you somewhat irate, but you were keeping your cool so as not to scare the kids. You will discuss this with him at another time. You took a deep breath to help you relax. If not, you will quickly lose your shit. But Ben's recent actions were really getting on your nerves.

Your son, who was moving constantly to avoid the obvious, exclaimed, “Daddy, pee,” as if he were going to cry.

Ben said, “Fu-, come here,” as he swiftly lifted your son, Jared, and ran to the bathroom. At last. You chuckled at Ben's encouraging remarks about how your son was doing well and had strong self-control as you saw him run to the bathroom with Jared in his arms.

“You come back!” you exclaimed in a panic as you noticed that your one-year-old daughter, Jeanna, had truly begun to run and crawl on the carpet when you removed her pants to change her diaper. She climbed down the couch, but you couldn't even see it.

She made a joyful noise when she heard your voice and paused to study your face, which made her to giggle even harder. After you stood up to grab her before she carried on crawling. You were glad she was only a half-Supe and not yet displaying any of her abilities because she crawled so swiftly. Her strength would be impossible to handle otherwise. However, you can think about getting her ready for the Super Olympics in the future.

She screamed delightfully as you took her in your arms and put her back on the couch. For her, it was just another game.

Diana, your other daughter, remained composed despite watching her twin crawl with perplexed eyes and then attentively examining her own feet. She clearly got your coolness and persuasiveness in particular. But Ben never agreed with that. When it came to expressing and reflecting her feelings, Jeanna was a lot like her father. She was emotional and found it difficult to accept rejection when Ben or you refused to give her what she demanded. Just as your son and Ben returned, you gave Ben a look that conveyed your own rage. Jared proceeded to play with his sister's cheeks, expressing his affection for them.

Ben wasn't making your day any easier, even though you wanted to make this Christmas lovely and your kids happy by spending the holiday with your friends and their kids as if you were a big family. As you struggled to care for all of your children alone, like a single mother, you felt alone lately as you watched Ben become engrossed in his job in Vought and his new car. You were on the verge of a breakdown, but you managed to hold back your coolness by concentrating on your twins.

Ben swiftly sat next to you after seeing a change in your mood and moved your face toward him, kissing you firmly as though it would make everything better.

You wanted to playfully threaten to divorce him to get on his nerves, but you kept your tongue shut since you knew Jared would feel awful and might have assumed he was acting improperly. Children did, after all, have fragile sensitivity and were vulnerable. Ben made things really hard at times, but you were being overly cautious.

You simply replied to Ben's kiss and smiled, but he sensed that something wasn't quite right. You said, “Can you help me with these, please?” before he spoke.

While you changed your girls' clothes, you ordered him to hold both of them straight. As you tried to control the tremendous emotions Ben caused, you couldn't stop kissing your twins one by one since they were so adorable in their matching little red outfits.

Ben whispered, “Look at that dress and little shiny socks,” and kissed each of them on the forehead for a few seconds while closely examining you to make sure everything was okay. Both of your daughters were bothered by his beard and pushed Ben's face away.

“All clean and nice now,” you whispered, kissing their cheeks briefly. You never stopped showing Jared the same affection and attention since you were so tuned in to his emotions. You even gave him additional kisses to let him know that he wasn't being replaced or anything.

You could already see both of your daughters playing with their toys on the carpet. Jared continued to demonstrate his limited strength by carrying Diana on the carpet and offering her his favorite toy in an attempt to entice her to play with it. Having an older super brother to keep them safe was an excellent thing.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Ben inquired as you shifted your face toward him and he drew your body closer to his. His green eyes grew anxious as he saw your practically teary ones. He immediately cleared his throat in guilt and attempted to explain himself. “The car is a little difficult these days, you know. In order to keep us from being late, I had to handle it.”

“It's not about that, Ben,” you interrupted him before he could say anything more.

“What is it about then?” He now seemed somewhat harsh, and you immediately began weeping when you saw how indifferent he was toward you despite the fact that you were giving him and your kids all of your energy. It was simply too much for you. You weren't even a Supe.

You gave him a brief glance before getting up to go to the kitchen so that neither you nor he could raise their voices and frighten Jared as he played with his sisters in such an excited manner and was enjoying himself. You didn't want to talk at this moment and ruin the day.

Ben immediately followed you into the kitchen as you began cleaning things to relieve yourself of your miserable state of mind. To your astonishment, he turned your body toward him after taking the dishes from your hand and gently setting them aside. “Come on. I didn't mean to sound that way. Let's talk it out. Why did you become upset so quickly? Don't shut me out.”

You were nearly soothed by his kind tone and the way he held you in place while massaging your back with his fingertips. You gave up trying to get rid of him and laid your arms across his wide chest instead. Recalling your divorce-related ideas, you stated sourly, “You're going to make me a widow soon.”

Ben initially got confused by what you were saying, but he quickly offered you a huge grin, confirming that he lacked the intelligence to understand what you were talking about. “Well, I'm not planning to die soon, but you may try, love.”

Instead, you remained calm and smiled miserably at him. He needed to understand that you felt alone in this marriage and didn't want to do anything by yourself anymore. “I wasn't thinking about killing you.”

His smug grin abruptly vanished, and he turned to face you in confusion.

“I am talking about divorce.”

You spoke so harshly and definitely that you could swear Ben's face turned pale. Great. He needed to know the consequences of his behavior, but even uttering that term out loud made you shudder with something you never wanted to express. You weren't sure if he truly cared about your situation because he was so preoccupied with his work and his dumb car. You only needed a bit of help.

He eventually said, “Fuck, no,” while hugging you tighter. “I can't believe you just said that word right to my face.”

Now amused by the way his face turned pale and the way his arms tightened around your waist as though you were about to abandon him, you did your best not to smile and continued to gaze at him solemnly without breaking your character. Ben was shocked to hear such things because you hadn't spoken of them before, and he knew how much you loved him. He waited for a response, but you kept quiet to avoid making him lose his mind. It might be a useful lesson.

He had confidence in himself too much.

“You're not serious, right?” he asked, affectionately caressing your neck and hair. Ben swallowed and said sternly, “Why are you bringing up such nonsense when we can discuss it? I told you that I was only taking care of the car so we wouldn't be late.”

“You make me feel lonely in this,” you muttered, observing his unexpected outburst of rage. “There are moments when I think I'm the only one attempting to help them grow up. It was fine when there was just Jared, but now that there are three, things are different.” You took a deep breath to avoid becoming angry and making this into a small fight. “What am I? A single mother?”

His ego had been bruised since he believed he was simply doing okay as a father and a husband, but his eyes instantly became softer. You felt sympathy for him since you knew precisely what he was thinking at the time, yet you put up with his actions to the point where you wounded yourself in order to keep his pride intact. Despite how much you loved each of them, what you were doing was enough for him and your children, but it was consuming your soul and drowning you with a flood of despair.

He calmly remarked, “Of course you're not alone,” and gave you a firm hug after seeing how worn out you were. “You know, I thought I was simply doing okay. But you're right. Considering that they are all newborns and that we have recently become quite crowded, I should have shown more consideration. I know. But from now on, I'll be better for you and our lovely little soldiers, okay?”

His gentle and caring comments made your heart melt. You needed him to spend a little more time with you and your children, not that you want to discourage him. Being a supe, he most likely had no idea how much energy it took to deal with them all at once.

You sighed and gave him a hug in return.

“Yes, caring for all of them at once—breastfeeding, putting them to sleep, dressing them, changing their diaper... can be truly exhausting. Without you keeping an eye on them, I can't even take a nice shower. Ben, I need you to see just how tired I am. I need more, even though I know you're trying your hardest. For me.” You continued to stroke his arms, demonstrating your love and making sure he heard your pleas without coming across as aggressive or harsh this time.

Ben kissed your forehead and continued to softly touch you because he was so moved by your words and how you still did your best to comfort him in spite of his wrongdoings. “I... keep forgetting that they are my babies and half-supes, which is obviously considerably harder to deal with. I know that. Nothing is more important than you.” With your hands between his, he muttered, caressing the top of your head while giving you his most intense and sincere glance. “I love you.”

You gave him a deep kiss and withdrew a bit. “I know.”

When you didn't use the same terms, he was offended. “Who am I? "Princess Leia?” he complained, eagerly awaiting you to say the same thing. It was easy to break his pride today.

You chuckled. “I love you too, Ben.”

“The new house rule is similar to the one you mentioned about ‘not swearing’: You will never use that word again: Divorce. Otherwise, I'll have to punish you, sweetie. Do you think that I wish to punish my children's mom? Absolutely not.” Ben picked you up with ease and put your body on the kitchen sink, which made you giggle. “So let's watch our naughty mouths,” he added in a humorous voice to lighten your mood.

“You wouldn't want to punish me,” you said, gradually lowering your hands until they touched his bulge. Ben shoved himself against your palm when he saw that his green eyes were gleaming with anticipation. Ben pushed up your skirt, and a sneer appeared on his lips. He gulped when he pulled back a little and dipped his head to see what you were wearing underneath.

He moaned, “Fuck,” and kneaded your legs firmly. “How the fuck did I not notice you were wearing this all this time?”

But as soon as you straightened your skirt, he gave you a lustful glance. You said, “I really don't want to manipulate you, but—” as you brushed his neck and played with his hair.

“Well, I'd like to be manipulated right now,” he interrupted. “Use me, take advantage of me, and brainwash me. I'm all yours.”

You were chuckling when he toyed with your skirt and gave you happy grins in a playful manner. As Jared kept your daughters occupied, you both glanced in their direction as your daughters screamed with delight in sync. Ben focused on you once again after determining that nothing was wrong. He touched your chin and made you focus on him again and look at his eyes.

“You were saying?”

“Well, don't get angry over nothing and don't cause any trouble tonight. That's all. Very easy. There is nothing that the strongest Supe Daddy cannot handle.”

“You are aware that I am a hot-tempered man? Given that we'll be spending Christmas listening to Hughie and Butcher's crap, what you want from me is pretty difficult.” Ben replied, causing you to extend your legs a bit wider as his fingers lingered on them. “What will I get in return if I behave just like you want?”

You smirked at the fact that he was always prepared even if you had a busy sexual life. However, it had been months since you felt him inside without a plastic barrier, and he was irritated when you told him to use a condom. In actuality, you were driven to discipline him for failing to pull back at the right moment a year ago.

But you loved your daughters. You were happy that they happened. It was only about Ben's confident ass refusing to acknowledge that he hadn't pulled back in time.

You smirked as you noticed him growing eager and ultimately agreed not to ask him to wear those dumb fucking plastic condoms. “Without a condom, while wearing this, all night, just you and I,” you added abruptly. He hadn't felt how you felt in such a long time, and sometimes it was becoming agonizing.

“Wait. You mean it?”

“I mean it. If you-”

“Deal,” he responded immediately, without waiting for you to complete. For a day, it wouldn't be so difficult to be fucking polite. However, he had no intention of behaving like a jerk while he was with you and his children for Christmas already.

Ben jokingly remarked, “You know what you want from me is not even that difficult. Just admit you miss the feeling of my cock, the times I fuck you raw and deep. I could probably knock you up again without even properly filling you with my cum, love.”

You slapped him across the chest and said, “Keep it low!” He kept forgetting about Jared at times. “And... I guess we'll never know.”

You grabbed him by the shirt and gave him passionate kisses till the babies interfered, your heart bursting with delight at how excited he was already and how he began telling you how good he could be.

Ben cursed out loud at Butcher for making you wait at the entrance for a short while while he was carrying all of your children in one hand and clutching the gifts in the other when you arrived at the enormous place he had rented for Christmas. All you were doing was trying to soothe him while you were carrying their luggage. When his father used the F word, Jared looked at you and laughed. He knew you didn't like it when his dad used such words around the kids.

Ben remarked, “I'm going to break this damn door down now,” and he gave you the impression that he only needed your approval.

“Then you're gonna fix it yourself!”

Ryan opened the door and greeted you like a gentleman just as Ben was going to smash it with his leg. He was such a kind boy.

Ryan used to spend his time with Jared whenever you came to visit because he was now living with Butcher. He was like a brother to Jared.

When Jared saw Ryan standing in front of him, he quickly urged Ben to release him, and Ryan grabbed him. Meanwhile, Ben continued to curse Butcher and the others; they were simply preparing the table. Children were screaming all over the house, and when they spotted your babies and Jared coming, they screamed even more because they knew their new gaming buddies were back home.

“Hey,” you said, setting the bags next to the couch. You then took the gifts Ben was holding and put them beneath the Christmas tree and gave Annie and Kimiko a brief hug.

Ben put your twins on the carpet and said, “I swear I'm gonna break that damn door on your head one day,” as your twins became excited upon seeing other infants and tried to get rid of their father's tight hold.

When he stated, “You all play nicely, alright?” Ben surprised you by lightly touching Hughie's one-year-old daughter's head. You didn't make any remarks about Ben's small, sweet gestures to make him feel shy. He didn't need to try being polite sometimes. He was more sensitive since he became a father. Something had changed in him.

Butcher grinned and remarked, “Are you kissing your babies with that mouth? There were just three of you last Christmas,” as he glanced at your twins. “Look at how crowded you are right now. What are you? A rabbit family in heat?”

Ben, sitting on the couch, laughed at his remark. “What can I do? I shoot my shot well.”

“Yeah? When Hughie's little boy grows up and starts making moves on one of your daughters, I'll see you then. You'll all get along well as relatives, won't you, Annie?”

“Say that shit again?”

Butcher's smile grew when he realized he had hit a sweet spot to get Ben's nerves.

When Ben suddenly became unreasonably frustrated, you sat next to him, and you kicked his leg. While Annie, MM, and Frenchie set the table, you watched Hughie use a milk bottle to feed his son. You were touched by his dedication and his constant smile.

Your head began to throb from the sounds they made as Ryan and MM's daughter assisted Jaden and others in playing games, but it was a pleasurable ache.

It was beautifully snowing outside as the hours went by while you were seated at the table, deep in conversation. Ben was eating turkey like he was starving and was talking about how difficult it was to be a father and how war and fighting superheroes were much easier than anything else because fathering required so much contemplation. You didn't hurt his pride and interrupt, but you and Annie exchanged glances and rolled your eyes when Hughie agreed with him, and they spoke as though they were the ones who gave birth.

Your heads turned back when you heard a guitar sound. While his sisters were destroying the strings together, Jared was playing with it. Jared was behaving like a professional and had a humorous look on his face. Then he stood up and touched his father's legs while carrying the guitar.

“Hey, where did you find this?” Ben asked when Jared instructed him to take it.

“Can you play this?” Without waiting for Ben's response, Frenchie requested and promptly stated the names of the French songs he wanted Ben to sing.

Ben put the guitar and Jared on his lap as he became filled with enthusiasm. “Of course I can.” To feel like he was the one playing, Jared placed his tiny hand on his father's big ones. He looked at you and smiled shyly to see if his mom was proud of him. You blew a kiss to him and smiled.

Ben began singing his well-known song ‘Rapture’, and you had to control your laughter to keep from embarrassing him. You had to think negative stuff to avoid ruining his and Jared's mood because of how serious his face was and how he was acting like a pop star at the time. Jared wasn't any different.

Since everyone was trying their hardest not to crack up when you looked at their faces, Jared and Ben were the only ones on the clouds there.

Butcher was tearing up as Ben said the ‘Rapture’ line because he was unable to contain himself any longer as he laughed out loud.

Ben gave Jared the guitar, instructing him to play like him for his sisters and younger buddies to show how talented he was, and when Jared ran to his sisters and buddies, he stated, “I'm gonna break this on your damn head,” giving Butcher a stern look.

You told him, “Don't be a dick, Butcher,” and rested your chin on Ben's shoulders. “Baby, you did perfectly. I had no idea you were such a good guitarist, you played so well.”

Ben was proud of your compliment and forgot about Butcher. He winked at you and remarked, “I'm good at playing with many things,” as if to remind you of your little arrangement.

“There are already enough babies. Because of these random sperms, I am going to become mute, I’m telling you.”

As she held the baby on her lap, Kimiko gave him the middle finger and made Annie's son do the same gesture with his tiny fingers. When Annie's son made a happy sound, as though she knew what was happening, Kimiko was grinning broadly. Butcher claimed that Kimiko's nasty demeanor would spoil Annie's son, but Frenchie told him to shut the fuck up. Ben was feeling better when he saw everyone opposed to Butcher.

As the night went by, you all talked about wonderful memories while simultaneously handling your babies. The house was filled with your babies' happy screams as the snow poured outside, providing you with the ideal setting for the start of the new year. Your back was pressed against Ben's warm chest as his powerful and gentle hands caressed your arms. Remembering how he sung his own carol, Rapture, with such a solemn tone and face, made you smile uncontrollably.

A/N: I'm not proud of this work, but I hope you like it. :/ I'll be better, I promise...

Permanent Taglist: @ladykitana90 @kamisobsessed @artemys-ackles @thecutestaaakawaii @supfan67 @suckitands33 @mggsrightfoot @kimxwinchester

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fanfictiongirlie · 4 months ago

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Marvel: One Night to Forever - Request -

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Request: Link to request ask

Description: Have this idea for a story Bucky and I guess she could be an analyst or something while they both get drunk at one of Tony's parties and they have a one-night stand and about 2 months later she finds out that she's pregnant but by this time Bucky is with another woman or so she thinks what ends up happening is this woman is just somebody that's pestering him constantly and he wants nothing to do with her but reader thinks that's his new girlfriend so what she does is ask Tony for a transfer and runs away cuz she doesn't want to ruin Bucky's new relationship even though it's not a relationship for real and eventually he overhears something from somebody probably not and finds out that she took off because she's pregnant and he turns the world upside down looking for her and he finally finds her and he is just beside himself and asking her why did you leave why wouldn't you tell me something like this and well they end up making a lot of love and they finally end up together in the end and if this is corny and if it's something that you don't think you want to do that's cool but I thought it was kind of cute.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Alcohol, drunk sex, use of 'good girl', angst, idiots in love, smut.

Words: 5,273

Read on ao3

Completed One-Shot

Hiii, I may have struggled to write this, for some reason. Either way, it's all written up! I hope you like it! <3

A smile played on your lips as you looked round the room, one of Tony's famous, or rather infamous parties. You looked around, your eyes slightly glassy as you did so, everyone was either dancing or deep in a conversation, except one. Bucky Barnes, you smirked as you stalked towards him.

Bucky had found the quietest corner he could find, he hated these parties, but Steve. Damn, Steve always made him come to them, it was like he wanted to torture his best friend. He was also hiding away from a certain person who worked closely with the Avengers. But then, he looked up, seeing you walking towards him. He tried not to look to excited as his eyes watched you walk. His favourite person by far, was you, not that he would ever tell you.

"Ah, if it isn't my favourite nerd" He says with a lazy smirk.

"You pronounced 'Glue that keeps the Avengers together' wrong Barnes" You say, you twirl and lean against the wall, your arm pressed against his ever so slightly. He had a beer in hand, much like the one in your hand. You felt your cheeks flush slightly the longer you look at him, he was so pretty.

"Heard you got that promotion" He says as he lifts his beer bottle up to his lips, taking a long swig. You watched as he did, only slightly mesmerised by the softness of his lips around the beer bottle. Subconsciously you licked your lips, the thought of his soft lips against yours consumed your brain for a moment.

"I did" You say proudly, head analyst for the Avengers, Tony even gave you your own office. You sigh slightly, looking around the room, everyone was laughing or happy. "We could celebrate" You add.

Bucky looked round the room, his arm motioning to the bustle of the party. "This is a celebration"

"Yeah, but you hate being here, come on Bucks" You say prodding his arm. "Let's go have our own party, drinking games in my new office"

"Fuck, doll" He says in a breathy voice, making you feel a little fuzzy inside. "That's a brilliant idea, let's go"

And so you left the party, sneaking out without a care in the world for the others. Inside your office, you beamed as you looked around, it was empty and new yeah, but you couldn't wait to give it your own flare.

"Nice" Bucky mutters as he follows you, you close the door behind you, and root through a box finding the expensive bottle of Dalmore 25 Year Old Single Malt Whisky that Tony had gifted you. You didn't want to know how much he had spent on the bottle.

The two of you opted to sit on the ground, passing the bottle between you. As you got drunker the lines between you started to blur, you sat closer, touched a little more... Little touches on the arm, lingering touches, moving closer together.

"I...need to... fuck doll" Bucky whispers, he was sitting so close to you, you could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the little dress you wore making his lingering touches feel intoxicating as his fingers traced small shapes onto the side of your exposed knee.

"What Bucks?" You whisper, you had an inkling you knew what he wanted, and fuck, did you want it too.

"I want to kiss you, but I'm so drunk, and you're so drunk" He whispers, if he had moved an inch closer his nose would touch yours, you were so close to tasting his breath on your lips, you craved it, yearned for it, so you moved, your brain was a drunken haze, and the sober part of you would normally have said wait till you were sober, but you weren't.

You moaned softly as your lips touched his, the firework of emotions hit you hard, and to your surprise Bucky kissed back, his lips were moving against yours in a hunger, his flesh hand moved to hold your jaw as you kissed. Your lips moved messily together, soft giggles left both of your lips as Bucky's metal arm snaked around your waist, lifting you to sit on his lap. You knew your dress would of lifted up over your legs, bunching up around your hips, you smiled softly as you kissed him, pleased you were wearing a serious cute pair of panties.

"Fuck" Bucky mutters, his lips move from yours, dragging down your jaw, you rest your head backwards, giving him full access to your throat. His hands splayed out on your back, holding you firmly against him as his lips attacked your neck, kissing you, licking you, biting you. "Doll, would be a horrible suggestion..." He started to say, you grind your hips down, feeling his hard cock in his suit trousers, his breath caught in his throat as you moved.

"Fuck, baby..." He groans softly, his hands move down to hold your hips, helping you grind steadily on him. "That's it, god, fucking good girl"

You giggle softly, enjoying him call you that, you move down slightly, pressing your lips to his jaw, kissing soft kisses as you travel from his chin to just below his ear. "What was your suggestion?"

"Fuck, let me fuck you..." He groans. You giggle softly, the alcohol buzzing through your veins making you feel a little more giggly than usual when you speak. "Bucks, that was already on the cards, but if you want an actual yes, then yes, please, fuck me"

"No..." He mumbles, his eyes close as you kiss his jaw, sucking small marks into his pale skin. "I wanna fuck you, on your desk"

"Oh....oh, that's a good idea" You whisper, moving back slightly, his perfect blue eyes looked into your eyes, making you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

In a matter of moments, Bucky had you up in his arms as he stand, your desk was near enough clear, he laid you down on your back and looked down at you from above.

"God, you're pretty... fuck you know you're pretty don't you?" He asks, you move your feet up onto the desk, opening your legs for him, showing off those panties you were wearing. With shaky hands, both his flesh and metal hands moved to hold your inner thighs, he moved up slowly, enough to make you whine as he teased you.

"So beautiful" He mutters as he pulls your underwear down, you lie there, watching him in awe, he was beautiful. His suit jacket had been discarded a while ago, his perfect white shirt was half unbuttoned showing a slight amount of his chest hair.

It didn't take long for you to both be naked, almost naked. His trousers and boxers were down by his ankles, and his shirt completely unbuttoned now, one shoulder bare as the shirt fell. Your dress was hiked up to your middle, showing off your tits and now bare pussy. Bucky's lips were glistening, his hands were on your thighs, spreading you as his tongue spread your folds. He groaned loudly as he tasted you.

You wriggled on your desk, eyes shut as you moaned loudly, your fingers weaved through his hair, holding him down onto you, your other hand was on your chest, idly playing with your nipples.

"Bucky..."You whine, your words slurred slightly. "Please, need you"

He looked up at you from in between your legs, smirking, he moves forward, sucking your clit again, making your legs shake. He chuckled darkly and moved to stand up, his flesh hand moved to grip his hard cock, you were in awe, he was thick, your pussy clenched in excitement, you wanted to worship him, touch his cock, taste him...Even stroke your fingers through the soft curls at the base of his cock. You had it bad for him.

"You ready for me?" He asks, smirking as he looks down at you, his eyes slowly moving over your entire body, you nodded, biting your lip as you spread your legs further for him. He moved a little closer and pushed his cock against your clit, you whined softly. You were dripping wet, his cock slipped down your folds. "God, Bucky.. please"

He grinned, and finally pushed the head of his cock inside of you. He moved slow at first, letting you adjust to his girth. As he pushed fully into you, he lent down, moving one of his hands to brush your hair and the side of your face, saying sweet words.

"Bucky" You moaned softly.

"Don't worry, darling. I'll give you what you need" He whispers, for the next few moments he kisses you, nips at your lips, until finally he starts moving his hips. The two of you made the desk shake as he thrusts into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, and in both of your drunken states you fucked messily and hard.

Tony's party was still in full force, no one would find you, so you fucked loud and hard. His grunts and groans were enough to have you coming hard around his cock, you knew he hadn't had many girls like this since his Winter Soldier days were over, but he was an expert, you now believed Steve when he said Bucky used to be a ladies man in the 40s. He was perfect.

"Fuck, gonna come baby, let me pull out" He groans, your legs still wrapped around his waist tightly.

"I'm on birth control, fill me up baby" You whimper, you were feeling slightly overstimulated, having lost count how many times his touches had made you come. His eyes widen slightly at your words, but he was too drunk to listen to reason, with a few more thrusts he was coming hard, soft whimpers left his lips as he spilled his seed deep inside of you.

Stupidly, you both decided falling asleep on the floor of your office was a good idea. It wasn't, in the morning not only did your head hurt from a wicked hangover but your backs hurt from the hard floor.

You were a little sad it wasn't the morning you had dreamt of for your first time with Bucky. He was his usual quiet self as he got dressed.

"Doll, I..." But you didn't let him finish, automatically you thought he had regretted it.

"Bucky, you don't need to explain" You say softly.

"Doll, I enjoyed myself... I was going to tell you I had a mission tonight, not that I regretted this" He explains, you nod, feeling a little silly. You knew about the mission

Bucky, Steve and Nat left for the mission, leaving you to get used to your new job. You wished you could text Bucky, talk to him just to make you feel less stressed, but after a few weeks you were certain he did feel the same. And you had decided that when they were back from the mission, you would meet him at the hanger and run to him, throwing your arms around his neck to welcome him back.

A few days before Bucky was due back, you felt weird, not quite yourself. You had thought it was just a bug at first, but then Wanda, with her witchyness looked at you oddly. You were sitting in the Avengers canteen, enjoying a coffee, since you weren't able to stomach anything else at the moment.

"You...seem different" She says as she sits opposite you. You cock your head, confused to what she could mean.

"Different how? Like that new job glow?" You ask, smirking a little.

"No...It's a glow yes, but for something else" She says, her eyes shine red for a moment before she gasps.

"What?" You ask, feeling a little nervous from her reaction.

"You're pregnant...I think...My magic might be off since you haven't told me about any sex recently, which as your best friend, you wouldn't do that to me, would you?" She asks, rambling slightly, you smile softly, loving this side of Wanda. But then you blush, there had been sex recently, and you hadn't told her...

"Well..."

"Well what? Who was it?" She gasps.

"Bucky..." You say, with a coy smile on your lips.

"No. Way." She says a little too loudly. You then tell her everything, but stop..."Wait, Wanda...pregnant?"

"Yes, pregnant...But we'll do a test to be sure" She says, and you feel a little queasy, you nod and let her lead you to the closest bathroom, locking it behind her. She uses her magic to conjure a pregnancy test.... And, you were pregnant... Fuck. You felt the panic starting, but then you thought about Bucky...He was a sweet man, he would step up, he wanted to be with you, right...?

A few days pass and your anxiety doesn't ease up, but you wanted to see Bucky as they arrived back from their mission, you were running a little late as you sped through the building, heading towards the hanger. You could hear how busy it was before you even turned the corner, knowing everyone would come and welcome everyone back from a mission, it was a cute tradition. You whizzed around the corner and stopped dead in your tracks, you saw Bucky. Looking as beautiful as ever.

With another woman hanging off his arm... Oh.

You felt tears burn in your eyes, he looked, strange, not happy. Bucky rarely looked happy. But there he was, with that woman on his arm.

"Cute couple, aren't they?" A voice says from besides you, you turn, seeing someone you hadn't met before. You smile softly as if to answer her questions.

"I uh, didn't know Bucky was dating anyone" You say carefully, wondering if this woman beside you knew anything.

"Oh, he wasn't. But Carla, that's her name, she's had it bad for Bucky for a while, guess he finally caved"

Oh. You took a deep breath and turned around, leaving the hanger without another word... You felt sick to your stomach, here you were, pregnant with Bucky's child and he was in a new relationship. Fuck. You didn't want to mess his life up, couldn't mess his life up. You adored him, loved him so deeply it hurt. No, you wouldn't mess things up for him.

Despite Wanda telling you, that maybe you should speak to Bucky, tell him about the pregnancy, you didn't. You weren't even sure if you were going to keep it yet. It was early days, you hadn't even hit ten week yet. Your brain was full with thoughts and it felt like too much. So first thing you did, was speak to Tony. Originally when you got the promotion, you were supposed to move building, but you loved working in the main Avengers building, and Tony knew that, so he let you have a new office in the Avengers building. But now, feeling lower than ever, you thought it would be best if you did move to the secondary Avengers building.

"I just can't understand why you want to move, kid?" Tony asks, he was concerned about your sudden change in opinion.

"I... I'll be honest with you, Tony... I'm pregnant, and think maybe the other building will be quieter, calmer for me" You explain easily, you didn't like lying to Tony, but it came so easily from your lips. The other building was calmer, the Avengers almost never walked into the doors of the building. So it was perfect. No more seeing Bucky. You'd let him live his life with this new woman, and he'd be happy. Because him being happy, was far more important to you than anything.

And so you move buildings, you say goodbye to your wonderful office with the perfect view over the lake, and move to the secondary building, to a smaller but still okay office. Wanda visits you almost daily, making sure you were looking after yourself, you had decided to keep the baby. The idea of getting rid of it made you feel uncomfortable. And maybe you weren't completely in the right mind, you felt guilty for not telling Bucky...It was silly, how long could you really keep this from him...

As the months went on, the texts and missed calls from Bucky were still coming in strong. He wouldn't stop, but you wouldn't respond. You were so busy with your job, it's not like you wanted to avoid him, but you needed to get things in order before having time off for the baby. Your bump had grown, not much, but it was noticeable you were pregnant, and around the office people got talking, they were all kind about it, they were lovely people to work with, but they weren't your usuals and that upset you. But you carried on, because that's all you had, to carry on, despite your heart breaking for Bucky.

Bucky was confused, sure you didn't speak every day, but suddenly, you dropped off the radar. He knew you were still working for Tony, but no one would tell him where you went. Granted he narrowed it down to only Tony and Wanda knowing, and they were stubborn. His last mission lasted weeks, and each day he thought of you, thinking of that drunken night together. He felt so awkward afterwards, he wanted to take you on a date, spoil you, show you that he loved you so deeply he was sure you were woven within his soul. And when his mission ended and he got home, that stupid woman, Carla? Was it? She was like a predator and he was her prey. For weeks, he had been avoiding her, she would touch him, hold onto his arm, try to stroke his hair. Steve said he should of complained, but he felt bad. He managed to finally shake her off him, he took Steve's advice and told Tony. Well, he got Steve to tell Tony for him. And swiftly, she was fired and escorted off the premises. He felt beyond relief, but then he went to your office... It was empty.

You had disappeared from his life, and he didn't like it. He could handle if you didn't love him back, and why would you? He was a mess, a broken mess of a man. Still screaming from nightmares nearly every night. He wasn't the kind of man you deserved. Bucky sighed heavily as he walked into the canteen, his eyes scanning the room for you, but you weren't there. His heart ached, his missed your smile, that fucking smile, you were so beautiful, a smile that lit up the room, eyes that sparkled. He thought, after that night, maybe he had you, you were finally his. He thought he was an idiot to think so.

Bucky glumly walked into the room, grabbing a tray to fill with food, he didn't mean to listen to the people in front of him. But it was difficult when they were talking so damn loudly, mostly he was trying to ignore it, not finding interest in listening, when he heard your name. It was almost like his ears pricked up like a cats.

"What's this about her?" He asks, saying your name, the sorrow in his tone as he says it. He missed saying your name.

"Oh, she's pregnant..." The person replied, Bucky's eyes widened...Pregnant. You weren't the type of girl to sleep around, he knew that, knew it so deep in his heart, he knew that the baby had to be his. But, why would you keep this from him? He was beyond confused, he dropped the tray, the sound of it echoed through the room, he walked away from the food and walked through the Avengers building until he found Wanda.

"You" He says gruffly, Wanda cocked her head, a little shocked. "Tell me where she is, I know she's pregnant, and fuck, it's mine...Isn't it?"

Wanda sighed, she promised not to tell...But Bucky looked like a man close to insanity. She nodded. "It's yours...She's in the secondary building"

"Fuck" He mutters "I don't have clearance, I can't access it"

Fuck it. Bucky decides, he leaves the building and makes the short walk to the other building, he felt stupid, you were so close the entire time. So fucking close. Yet so far away from him. Once he reaches the door, he uses his metal hand to punch through the keypad, it short circuits and sparks out towards him. He knows Tony would have his balls for that, but right now he didn't care. He walked through the building, not knowing where anything was, but finally found you.

You had decided to have lunch in your office today, you hated the business of the canteen anyways, so you sat at your desk, still working as you idly chewed on your salad of the day. You didn't look up when your office door opened, it wasn't out of the ordinary people coming into your space, you were a busy woman after all.

Bucky stared at you, his eyes wide and a little out of breath. You were so beautiful, you were glowing. He couldn't see your stomach, the desk covered it, but you looked different, he could tell, he had spent the last few years watching you, learning your every feature.

"How could you not tell me?" Bucky says quickly, he hadn't realised the emotions in him were so strong, he felt...angry, upset, slightly betrayed. He had to keep reminding himself that you probably had your reasons, he wouldn't yell, he would let you explain your side of the story...Or maybe, and the thought made him feel sick. Maybe the baby wasn't his...

You looked up, and swallowed the mix of lettuce and cucumber in your mouth. Your eyes were a little wide as they looked at him, he looked more rugged than when you had last saw him. His beard was grown out, a little messy too, and his hair was longer, but fuck, it made him look even prettier. You stared at him for a little longer, not quite having the right words to say to him.

"Doll, it's mine...right? You're pregnant?" He asks quietly, taking a step closer to your desk. You nod, feeling your head bow slightly in shame. The guilt hit you, washing over you heavily.

"Yes..." You say quietly, the word stuttering from your lips. You stand up, revealing your small bump to him. His eyes dart down to your stomach as you walk around your desk, you lean against the desk, still looking up at him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asks, his voice barely as whisper. He felt like he was going to be sick, he felt confused, and like he might cry.

"I...You had your new relationship, I couldn't be the other woman who ruins your life Bucks" You say quietly, your thoughts going back to that day in the hanger.

"New...what? Doll, I...what?" He struggles.

"That woman...Carla? Some woman told me you were together, and I mean I saw you in the hanger, she was all over you" You say quietly.

"Carla? That's why you disappeared on me?" He questions.

"I disappeared for you!" You say, a little more loudly than you had meant. He looked so confused, it broke your heart, you wanted to move forward and hug him, hold him tightly in your arms.

"Why would I ever want you to disappear?" He asks, taking a step closer to you, his arms reach up, moving to your shoulders, gently holding you. "Jeez, I love you"

"You love me?" You ask, shocked at his words, part of you thought maybe you had imagined him saying those words, they had been the centre of your dreams for so long now.

"I thought I was being obvious" He mutters. "Obviously not"

"And you don't want that other woman?" You ask question, blinking up towards him.

"No, she was obsessed with me, but fuck, doll, I'm obsessed with you, you're my girl, always have been my dream girl. I want you, I love you...and..." His words trail off for a moment, his hands stroke down your arms moving until they were on your hips, his fingers moved slightly so they were feather touching your bump. "Fuck, this is real, aint it?"

You nod, feeling tears in your eyes. "Yes, fuck, Bucky I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want to ruin what I thought you had with that woman..."

"No, shh, it's okay doll. I'm not mad at ya'" He whispers, moving his flesh hand over your stomach, holding you little bump carefully.

"I love you too, you know..." You whisper. He smiles widely and moves to press his lips to yours. Kissing you softly as he moves his hands around your waist holding you close to him.

You weren't sure how long you both kissed, but it felt amazing, it was like that missing part of you returned, it felt right being with Bucky. It always had, kissing him was pure heaven. A few kisses more and you pulled away, your eyes sparkling with happiness as you look up at him.

"You know, being pregnant...makes me super horny, wanna help your girl out?" You say, grinning and only feeling a little cringed out by your words.

Bucky's soft smile turns into a smirk, obviously liking the idea, a soft growl leaves his lips. "Well, seeing as you have a new office, we should break it in like we did the last one"

"What a good idea" You grin, moving slightly you hop onto the desk, sitting with your legs dangling. He moves, coming to stand in between your legs, his hands moving up and down on your thighs, stroking you gently.

"My girl, not letting you go now" He mumbles. "Not ever"

"Promise me?" You say quietly, not fully believing him just yet.

"Oh, I promise you sweet girl, you and me, we're endgame, this baby too, we're a family now" He says as his hands move up to caress my bump. Your heart swelled, hearing his words, seeing the way he was looking at you, it all felt too good to be true. Finally, you had him, he was yours.

Slowly you took your time undressing him, as he did undressing you. You made him lock the door, ensuring no one would interrupt you. Finally both naked, you laid back on your desk, looking up at him with a soft grin, you felt a little insecure of your bump, but he soon stopped that feeling, kissing your bump and telling you that you were perfect. His eyes trailed over your naked form, looking you up and down.

"Fuck, you're beautiful...I'm glad I'm sober this time"

"Me too" You agree, shivering slightly at the excitement. He moved slightly, lowering down onto his knees, he peppers kisses down your inner thigh, licking your skin as he moves lower. And finally he presses a kiss to your clit, taking a second to suck the bundle of nerves into his mouth. You moan softly, the sound barely leaving your lips, you hold onto the edge of the desk.

Bucky groaned softly as he looked at you, part of you wanted to cover yourself, his eyes were hungry as they looked at the soft pink flesh in between your legs.

"My girls so perfect" He whispers before finally moving his lips, his tongue dipped between your folds, licking you up hungrily. A soft whine left your lips as his tongue moved expertly from your clit down to your eager, wet hole. Since being pregnant, you had been heightened, and untouched, having Bucky finally touch you, it drove you mad.

"Come for me" He whispers, the vibration of his voice tingling through your body as your body listened to his words, you felt yourself come over his tongue, the release sending shivers through your body. "That's my girl, so good listening to me"

"Bucky" You squeal softly, feeling yourself flush a little red.

"Oh I know baby, you need me, don't ya?" He asks, a cocky grin over his glistering lips as he looks up at you. You nod, and he stand back up, you giggle softly, remembering the last time you were in this position. With one swift movement he thrusts into you, your body was wet and ready for him, sucking him in close until he was fully seated in you.

"So fucking perfect" He groans.

"Kiss me, Bucks" You whisper, he listens pressing his lips to yours, he snakes his metal arm around your lower back, lifting you slightly, you both moan at the movement, his cock pressed harder into you. Slowly he starts thrusting up into you, his cock stretching you out perfectly.

"God. You. Are. Perfect" He groans, with each word he pulls out and thrusts deeper into you.

"Yes...oh.. Bucky!" You moan, feeling your cunt tighten around his thick cock. You hold onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he fucks you.

"That's it, come for me, fuck you're perfect, god I love you" He grunts, his hand tightening on your hip and he speeds his movements up.

"I love you...oh..oh!" You squeal as you come hard, your legs shake around him, as you feel your body release.

"That's my girl...god, you're perfect, carrying my child, so fucking beautiful, I love...Oh....I love you" He grunts, moaning as he starts whimpering, his hips stutter into yours, his moves becoming more sloppy as he finishes deep inside of you. As you both breath heavily, your foreheads connected, Bucky placed you firmly on the desk, his body hovering over yours. Fuck he was tall.

Love you, my girl" He whispers, planting a soft kiss to your lips.

"I'm your girl, fuck I've always been your girl" You whisper. After a while, he helped you with your clothes, and then dressed himself. You sat back down on your office chair and watched as he walked around, sitting on the desk opposite your chair, facing you.

"Can I ask you something, doll?"

"Anything, Bucks"

"Back in my day, we uhh, you know, married gals when..." He says awkwardly, his words trailing off. You laugh breathlessly, he was so cute. "Bucky, darling, it's not the 40s...You don't have to marry me, well maybe eventually, but for now, I'm happy being with you, and having our baby, if you want us both of course"

He shakes his head, laughing. "Of course I want you, you're my girl, we're a family now"

"Yeah we are, and I love you" You say softly, he leans down, kissing your lips before whispering. "And I love you, both of you"

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

#fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #marvel smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine

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mae-gi-writes · 14 days ago

Text

eyes closed. (1) . liam mairi (fourthwing)

Unlike the other marked ones, you despised having that symbol branded along your back and spent your entire life running away from it. But the charming smile and the captivating blue eyes of a certain cadet going by Liam Mairi might just convince you otherwise.

genre: slowburn! rivals to lovers (ish), Liam is smitten. He fell first but she fell harder. Happens before the fight at Resson. Reader's name is Kaelle Loo, a first-year.

----part one | part two -----

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

He's always finding you, one way or another.

You scurry over to a stack of books, glancing back over your shoulder as you make quick work of blending into the cream textures of the library. It's void at this time of the day, the hot afternoon sun beating down and gleaming over the arrays of shelves, the kind of weather that cadets usually thrive in. Not you. You hate the heat, and you hate being outside when all it does is either make you sweat or renders you cold.

Most of all, you hate it here. Which is why you try to find ways of making this experience as bearable as possible. And that is finding solace in the library.

Suddenly stumbling upon a cream-coloured figure, your face softens into a smile when you're met with Jesinia's kind eyes.

"Hey Kaelle," she signs with quick motions of her hands, "hiding again?"

"You know it," you sign back, shoulders lift into a shrug, "anything new?"

"None yet," Jesinia turns to point at the bookshelf in the far corner, "but you might want to check out this one. A lot of returned books recently.”

“Thank you,” and you’re off, winding through the smell of paper and faded ink pen until you find what you’re looking for.

Unfortunately though, it looks like you’re not alone.

“Hey Kaelle.”

Liam Mairi— with his lovely blue eyes and that dimpled smile. The kind that would make everyone falter for a second.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice comes out colder than expected.

He holds up the book from his lap, “reading?”

“Why are you telling me like it’s a question?”

“Because I’m not quite sure I understand it, whatever it is that’s written there,” Liam’s grin deepens tenfold before he straightens up, making some space for you as you slowly resign yourself to crouch by his side, your eyes already scanning for book titles that seem unfamiliar to you.

Finally, you let out a long prolonged sigh, “who sent you this time?”

He shrugs, but you can read him like an open hook. He’s always been so easy to decipher. Which is probably for the best when he’s basically stalking your every move.

“Liam,” your tone sharpens, “tell me.”

A soft sigh escapes his lips, “who else?”

“What is it this time?”

“You know we’re smuggling weapons,” his voice softens into a hushed whisper, hlue eyes darting around to scan the area before flicking back to your face, “he needs all the help he can get. It's--getting tougher."

"Well maybe that's something he shouldn't do."

Liam throws you a pointed look, as if whatever you suggested is completely irrelevant, "you know we can't do that. You know what's at stake--"

"I don't want to know," you cut him off suddenly, annoyance trickling through you at the thought that Liam might believe you're still one of them after you made it clear you had no intention of helping out with their vendetta when all you wanted was to be normal, "I don't want anything to do with whatever stupid, life-risking plan you guys are trying to come up with. So save your breath, my answer is already no."

You're straightening up before the words are barely out of your mouth and would've already been charging out of the library if not for Liam's hand snapping up to grab your wrist.

"Wait," he murmurs softly, "Kaelle. Just--hear me out."

It's probably the emotion in his voice that makes you falter, that makes you turn back to him with pressed lips and a clenched jaw. But he takes your silence as cue to continue, looking up into your eyes as he bites his lower lip, "you know the youngest Sorrengail right? Violet?"

"Yeah, how can I not?" you snort, "she's made herself an easy target with that mouth."

"What if you helped me?"

You blinked, "I don't quite follow."

Liam's gaze is steady and unflinching as he gazes up at you, "what if you help me, not as a marked one. But as a friend."

"We're not friends."

"I--" he bites the inside of his cheek and lets out a soft breath, hand unconsciously tugging you closer in the gentlest manner, "please?"

Sighing out in annoyance, you allow yourself to turn as a hand comes up to press against the bridge of your nose, "what do you need?"

You swear you're making a huge mistake, helping Liam out when he's been nothing but trouble for you. But one look at him makes all your resolve crumble. Maybe it's the emotion swimming in his eyes, the desperation lining his face that reminds you so much of your own, that has you folding over like a leaf.

You decide not to dwell on it. As long as you have nothing to do with Xaden Riorson, the one and only marked one who seems to be in charge and who's self-appointed himself as some kind of fatherly figure that makes you want to hurl the entire contents of your bedroom at him.

Then it should be fine. Right?

Right?

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"I can't believe I signed up to be a babysitter," you grumble into your vest.

Liam chuckles from your side as he buttons up his flight jacket, "just think of it as trying to get to know her better."

"If you hadn't noticed, I'm not particularly keen on making friends," you retort.

"Yeah I've noticed," he throws you a thoughtful look, one that makes you snap, "what?"

"Nothing," his lips curl into a half-smile, one that you cannot read. It's not the kind of thing you're used to seeing. People don't tend to smile at you when the first thing they see is the marks climbing up your neck like a collar.

The only reason why you are here currently is due to none other than Violet Sorrengail, who Liam has apparently been put on duty to babysit. Because of the lack of manpower that Xaden needs in order to smuggle weapons out to the fliers, Liam has been dispatched to help in all ways he can, leaving you to look after Violet like some kind of mother hen just to make sure she doesn't cut her own head off.

The idea of it is downright ludicrous to you and you have half a mind to yell about it to the Riorson descendant later.

Your first mission? Accompanying Violet as she practices flying with her big-ass dragon that scares the shit out of you.

On cue, as if they've been summoned by your own thoughts, you feel the warm vibration of wingbeats at your back and a moment later, the rocky shattering of the earth as the weight of your dragons land behind you.

Feeling the softest brush of heat at your back, you turn and can't help but grin up at your dragon. A tiny one in comparison to all the others, but one that you'll choose again and again, no doubt in all the lives to come.

Hey Dionne, your hand comes up just as your dragon lowers his head so that your palm presses against his snout, sorry for bothering you. I know it's usually your nap time.

His amber eyes blink back at you gently, I would be mad to let another Dragon carry you, even if it's Deigh.

"Oh I know," you say aloud with a grin as you rub his purple black scales, "you're too proud to let that happen."

Another growl resounds to your right and you force yourself not to look, despite the fact that you can feel Tairn -- Violet's dragon -- from a mile away. You hear Violet's hushed murmurs as she speaks to him, but decide to climb your dragon instead, manoeuvring yourself with ease since Dionne is of a slimmer build. As if he's made just for a rider of your size.

"Ready?" Liam calls out from where he sits along Deigh's back.

You nod at him, and when he confirms the same with Violet, soars up into the sky.

You follow, grabbing hold of Dionne as he proceeds to follow Liam's dragon into the open air. Off you go, feeling the wind trickle through your hair and the coldness seeping through your skin -- a nice welcome from the scorching heat below -- as you all but crouch against your dragon's spine. He's all speed and agility, whipping through the clouds and causing your hands to numb with the sheer force needed to stay on his backside. He banks left, following Deigh and the giant form above you can only recognise as Tairn, before doing a little spin that leaves your head reeling.

Was that really necessary? you ask him through the shimmering silver bond.

My apologies, it's been a while since I've seen so much sun, Dionne chuckles, I get excited about that.

I can see that.

You fly for what feels to be two hours -- judging by the numbness of your limbs and the fact that you can't feel your face. It's only when Dionne finally manages to land right outside Basgiath's courtyards that you feel the warmth finally seep through your palms. Descending from your dragon and checking his scales for any debris that might've gotten stuck to him, you don't notice Violet approaching until you hear her clearing her throat.

"Hey," she says, looking a little guarded. You don't blame her. You're not the picture of wholesome and welcoming, "thanks. For accompanying me. Liam," she gestures towards the said young man looking busy as though he's having an argument with his dragon, "he told me how he asked you for help. And I--well, thanks."

"You shouldn't thank me," you cross your arms, "thank Liam."

“Still,” apprehension flickers in her eyes, her posture rigid and taut, “thank you.”

You nod, not knowing what else to say, and turn back to Dionne.

You don’t hear Violet leave, focusing on your bond with Dionne so that you won’t say something you don’t mean. It happens to you at the worst of times and you’d rather not show it off to anyone in the near vicinity.

Are you alright?

Dionne’s gentle words are a soothing caress against your mind.

You nod, hiding your face in his scales as your knuckles turn white. Yeah, I just don’t know why Xaden’s obsessed with her when her mother’s the reason my entire family is dead.

The matters of the heart is always a complicated thing, Dionne says as he blinks down at you, but she is not her mother, Kaelle. She is just another cadet trying to survive, just like you.

You’re right, you sigh and rub at your face, I shouldn’t be so mean to her.

“What’s gotten your face so sour?”

You swivel on your feet and press back against your dragon in surprise. So deep in thought you’d barely noticed Liam until he stands a few feet away from you.

His hair is tousled and he has goggle marks along his cheekbones, the sight surprisingly adorable on him as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans back on one leg, “that wasn’t so bad now was it?” He asks with a grin.

“Tolerable,” you replied, “but completely irrelevant to my life. I could be using my time more productively.”

“You’re training on Dionne, that surely counts for something.”

You hate it when he’s right, and just turn your head away before patting Dionne on his chest, a sign that he may leave.

A few heartbeats later, the wind whips at your hair as your dragon leaps into the sky and you watch his figure for a moment— a dot against the afternoon sun — before heading towards your dormitory.

Liam falls into step beside you, something that he rarely does out in public. Everyone knows that you’re not well acquainted with the marked ones despite forming part of their community. You always kept yourself to your own, never wanting to share whatever experience you had with the others despite the fact that you’d shared the same branded marks. The only one capable of getting anything out of you was probably Imogen, and even she struggled sometimes, guided by the fact that she saw you as a little sister despite everything.

So whatever Liam’s trying to do only causes you to narrow your eyes at him, “what are you doing?”

He shrugs, “walking with you?”

“I don’t need you to walk with me.”

He gasps dramatically and holds a hand to his chest, “You hurt me,” he says, shaking his head, “where are you headed to anyway?”

“My room,” you arrive at the staircase and ascend the tower, your boots clicking along the stone steps. Liam follows with ease, long legs striding alongside yours, “so if you’re done playing shadow with me, you can run back to Riorson and tell him that I won’t murder his precious lady.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Gods. He’s so unshakeable. Your eyes narrow in annoyance, “what?”

If Liam notices your glare, he decidedly ignores it, “why do you hate Xaden?”

A pause. Your heart jumps to your throat.

Silence is your answer. You keep on walking, a ball forming in your throat as the words seep through you like lead.

And then, as if spurred on by his courage, Liam adds in a soft murmur:

“Why do you hate us?”

That makes your throat constrict and suddenly it’s a little too stuffy inside the corridor. You’ve thankfully arrived to your floor and that’s when you turn to lock eyes with those icy blue pupils swimming with open, genuine confusion. As though there’s nothing to hide, as though he’s never been through what you’ve been despite the fact that you know he hurts as much as you do deep down hidden between the grooves of your heart.

Your throat goes a little dry the more you stare up at him in silence. Tension cuts through the air and you swallow thickly.

“I don’t… hate you,” you finally murmur out, a hoarse whisper that speaks volumes, “I never could.”

Liam’s eyes are startlingly blue and pierce through you as he waits in silence for you to go on.

You do, “being with the marked ones, being with the people who know what it feels like to lose everything—that hurts more than anything else,” your teeth find your lower lip and you chew onto it unconsciously. Your hands slide up your arms, holding them to your chest like a shield, “seeing the marked ones just makes me remember. And I don’t want to, I want this part of my past to be gone. I don’t want to think about it, and I don’t want people to know about it. If I—“ you let out a shaky breath then and dipped your head to the ground, “—if I could disappear from Basgiath, I would.”

When Liam speaks next, there’s a gentleness in his tone that you’ve never heard before. It’s soft and coaxing, almost gravelly, “what would you do if you weren’t forced to be a rider?”

No one’s ever asked you that before. You’re left to blink at him, brows furrowed, taking note of how he’s leaning towards you like he actually wants to know.

Not because you’re marked. Not because he has to.

Because he wants to.

Somehow, it stirs something in your chest.

You feel a bit vulnerable. Exposed somehow.

“I’m not sure,” you finally say, “maybe I’d hide in the mountains. Travel. Visit towns. Gods, I certainly would not be trapped here.”

Liam’s features soften with sympathy, “that sounds amazing.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, “it does.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The days go by at an alarmingly slow pace, and Liam stays persistent throughout it all. It’s almost like your confession, that little door he’d nudged ajar to step into your innermost personal thoughts had him believe that you were more than just this ice cold wall that no one dared approach.

As the summer turns to autumn and the foliage transforms into beautiful hues of yellow and orange and blazing auburn, you find yourself spending more and more time with the blonde despite your reluctance to do so. He finds you everywhere— during your breakfast duty and sneakingly exchanging places with your partner so that he could keep you company, joining you during your sparring sessions, sitting next to you in battle brief despite your initial scowls and grumbles. He even goes as far as to find you amidst your afternoon jogs around the campus.

At some point, you can’t help but snap at him, “are you following me, Mairi?”

To which he merely raises a brow, “no, I’m just keeping you company.”

You have nothing to say to that, face reddening with embarrassment as you quickly swat away your emotions.

No need for him to figure out that he’s getting under your skin.

A little too easily, you might add.

It’s not like you to let people in so easily. Hell, you’ve been fighting to cut strings the moment you’d gotten painted on with those scars that reminded you of who you were. But Liam, he makes it so easy. One quick smile and a glimpse of the glimmer in his eyes and you find yourself unconsciously drawn to him for god knows what reason.

A little too soon, you find yourself searching for his blue-eyed gaze across the room.

A little too soon, you start to impulsively expect him to be at your side during Battle Brief.

A little too soon, you start to look forward to the conversations exchanged in the dim light of the corridor every night as he accompanies you to your room. It’s become customary, almost natural, that his warmth graces your side, that his familiar baritone echoed through the walls of the dormitory.

The first time your signet manifests, you’re currently in a head-to-head spar with none other than Imogen. She’s currently holding you in a headlock and threatening to tap you out when your skin suddenly flares up, searing in pain.

You scream.

And a moment later, you’re out of her arms.

Imogen blinks, surprise flashing through her face as you turn slowly, wondering what the hell happened.

Her smile is slow as it breaks across her features, “your signet,” she announces, “fucking finally.”

What? Your signet?

Your mind races, shock slamming into you as your eyes widen. But it’s not until you hear Xaden’s voice fill the arena that the realization of it all crashes into you.

“Time-wielder.”

Everyone’s ecstatic. Imogen practically runs you over, picking you up as you’re suddenly crowded in by all your classmates congratulating you on this amazing gift. The professors standing from the far side walk over with proud smiles, and throughout it all you spot Liam’s grin from the other side of the room, his face a pool of genuine happiness that makes your heart race through your chest.

“Time wielder huh?” He says a bit later in the courtyard. He found you sitting in a small patch of sunshine, head tilted up to the sky with an expression so peaceful it jars him for a few seconds.

Your eyes flicker towards him, down to the small wooden sculpture in his hand, before you settle your attention onto the lush landscape spreading beyond, “I still don’t understand how it works.”

“It’s only been two hours,” Liam replies as he shaves off a piece of wood, “it’s already great that you’ve manifested it.”

Sparing him a glance, you wrap your arms around your knees, “how does yours work?”

“Well,” he leans back, shoulder brushing yours as he does so, “I have to focus on the object I want to see up close. If it’s too far, I focus on the closest point I can make out first,” he points a finger towards the sea of orange and brown, “and then it’s like— I force myself through it and suddenly I can see up close, like I’m standing right in front of it.”

He explains it as if it’s that simple. And for him, maybe it is. He seems to have no trouble in seeing past what people project of themselves.

Like he does with you.

Don’t be so hard on him, the shimmer of the bond ripples through your mind. It’s Dionne, making an appearance when he usually keeps to himself most of the time, he means well.

It’s not that easy, your jaw flexes, as do your fingers in your lap, he’s too good for me. Has always been.

“How does Dionne feel about it?” Liam leans over his knees and tilts his head to look at you, his blonde locks catching the afternoon sunlight.

I knew you’d have an incredible signet, Dionne chuffs proudly, it was just a matter of when. Not if.

“He’s … happy.”

That’s not what I said.

You scoff and shake your head, “fine. He’s very proud.”

Better. But not quite.

Liam’s face breaks into a grin, “as he should. Your signet is one that’s never been heard of. You’re going to be written down in history.”

“I’d rather not,” you pull a face, “I don’t fancy being a hero. Not like Riorson,” that’s when you spare him a glance, hating the way your heart squeezes at how beautiful he looks, “not like you.”

“I’m not a hero.”

“But you want to be,” you look away before you do something stupid like brush his hair out of his face, “you’ve always been good. Better than most.”

The blonde cadet says nothing in favor of continuing to sculpt the little object between his hands. He has nice hands, you note. Firm and big, with long fingers that emit strength and quiet confidence.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

Your eyes flit towards his face, lock onto his blue pupils.

“I’m not.”

He cocks his head, “you are, though.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Mairi.”

“Why?” His lips tilt up into a smile, eyes crinkling, “am I rubbing off on you?”

“No,” you snort. But you’re smart enough to say nothing else, for there’s a small part of you niggling the back of your mind, telling you that indeed, he is rubbing off on you more than he should.

The next few weeks are filled with sparring, training, and fighting for your life whenever you try to train your signet. Xaden takes charge, pushing you to your limits until you see stars, until your knees slip out from under you and you all but fall back onto the mat, breathless. Slowly, you start to build on small increments of time; you fast-forward five seconds, then ten, then twenty. You’re sweating and boiling hot so that you’re stripped down to a sports bra and shorts, and still Xaden pushes you to try, try harder. Try now to push back in time.

“Up,” Xaden orders when he stands before you, looking just as sweaty as you look, “Now, Kaelle.”

“I—“ you gasp and curl in on yourself, “—I can’t.”

The power is simmering like lava fusing with your skin, burning you from the inside out and threatening to make you scream. Your hands curl into fists and it’s like you’re being scorched alive, the thrum of Dionne’s power so overwhelming that you have the urge to throw up.

Footsteps echo onto the mat before you feel a rough hand on your shoulder.

“Hey,” Xaden’s brows are furrowed, “you alright?”

You don’t trust yourself to talk for fear that you’ll scream. So you just shake your head no, jaw clenching as another wave of pain sizzles through your abdomen.

“Shit. Wait here.”

You don’t know how long you lie there like a dead weight, eyes half-closed and dazed, before you feel another set of arms wrap around your frame.

You tense instantly, eyes snapping open only to see a pair of familiar azure blue.

Kind. Tender. Your breath halts.

“Hey,” Liam’s voice is a gentle caress, “s’alright. I got you.”

And before you know it, you’re being gathered into his arms and cradled against his chest like a rag doll before he starts striding out of the sparring grounds. Protests make their way up your throat, only to die halfway through when you hear Dionne’s familiar rumble echo through your bond.

Let him help you, child.

So you do despite your brain screaming at you that this— all this is wrong. You fight against every instinct to push him away until he’s pushing his room door open. Like he’s handling gentle porcelain, he places you onto his bed and then proceeds to kneel by your side. Not close, but not far enough that you’d consider him scared of your response.

He ducks his head to look into your eyes, as if surveying your features, “feeling better?”

The simmer is still there, as angry as a coiled string snapping against you, but it’s less prominent if you try to focus on Liam and his scent overwhelming your senses.

As though sensing your thoughts, the said young man disappears into his bathroom for a few moments before walking back with a wet towel. Dropping to his knees once more, he hesitates slightly before pressing it against your nape.

The relief is astounding and a small moan slips past your mouth as you all but lean into his touch. The cold, a stark contrast to the heat sizzling your skin, is a welcome distraction while Liam takes hold of the other end of the towel before placing it over your arm.

He continues his ministrations until finally, finally, you feel like you can breathe again. The fire ceases to a warmth and you sigh as your muscles slowly relax. You don’t realize that you’re practically leaning into his hold until your hand accidentally brushes his arm.

Jumping away like he’s burnt you, you quickly clear your throat and right yourself, look away, “thanks.” You mutter.

His silence answers in his stead. His blue azure searching your features like he can’t quite believe that you’re telling the truth. A small sigh escapes his lips after a moment, and he falls back onto his carpet and uses his arm to lean against his bed.

“What happened?” He asks in a murmur.

“I was training,” you reply, “I think my signet overloaded.”

“And Xaden was okay with that?”

“Like he cares,” you snort, “he’d be glad to get rid of me, if he could—“

“You know that’s not the case, Kaelle,” Liam says gently, “he’s not the best at showing he cares.”

You shrug, eyes finding your lap as your hands knot together. There are questions burning at the back of your throat, questions that you’re not sure you want answers to.

“Why were you there?” You blurt out before you can think about it.

Liam’a blue eyes blink up at you in confusion.

“Did Xaden send for you?” You ask, “when I overloaded, he just— he left. And next thing I knew, you were there. So what did he do? Did he call you?” You take a breath, “do you always clean up after his mess?”

“That’s not why I was there,” Liam replies sharply, “he called for me, because he knew you wouldn’t want him to help you.”

At least he’s right about that. You can only stare at his door in growing annoyance. That’s what is is, isn’t it? Liam isn’t here because he cares. He’s here because Xaden told him to, just like he would for Violet.

Why does that leave such a bitter taste in the back of your tongue? You can barely look at the blonde in the face, not trusting yourself with whatever demons are dancing in your brain.

You get to your feet so abruptly that the blonde cadet lurches in surprise, arms already reaching out for you, “what are you—“

“Don’t.” You hiss at him over your shoulder, “touch me.”

Hurt flashes across his face for a second, before he schools his emotions into nonchalance. Liam steps back, weary and hesitant, as you throw yourself at his door and barge through without a backward glance.

You bolt.

You don’t look right nor left nor behind you.

You just make a run for it, legs pumping with adrenaline as panic and anger and irritation rages through you like a storm. You run and you don’t stop, down the staircase and out into the courtyard, not caring that the wind whips at your clothes and nips your skin with icy bites, not caring that you’re currently barefoot and you can’t feel your toes.

It’s getting harder to ignore the fact that your heart melts at the blonde with the blue eyes that makes your heart skid and skip with cartwheels. You realize it, as you stare up at the moon and watch the shadows in the courtyard dance with the wind tangling in your hair.

You’re letting Liam in, and you’re not sure how to stop it.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

As it turns out, you don’t need to dwell too much on your emotional feelings and detours, as life in Basgiath takes priority. Soon, you’re focusing on wielding your signet, understanding where the Wards are failing and which cities are being invaded, while also babysitting Violet Sorrengail at every chance you can. Xaden calls for you and you haven’t heard of Liam ever since your spat with him, your declaration that has created a crevice so deep in your relationship that you’re not sure how to fix it. If you want to fix it.

Part of you is recoiling at the fact that maybe you’ll never be subjected to his kindness again. That you’ve ruined it all.

But the logical part of you is happy about it, glad that there are no expectations, nothing that can hurt you if you push everything away and build stone walls as high as your college itself.

Imogen asks you if you’re okay, a few days before the Reunification Ball, while you spar with each other. You tell her yes, you’re fine, and there’s no need to worry.

But the look in her eyes tell you otherwise; she’s not buying your lie.

Xaden finds you in your room a few hours before the Ball itself, his presence inviting lingering shadows as they dance around the corridor.

“What is it?” You ask as soon as you open the door.

Xaden’s dark brow raises in amusement, “you have a way of greeting people.”

“What is it, Riorson?” You repeat without patience, annoyed that he’s disturbed your peace.

“You don’t seem dressed,” he crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorway, “why?”

“Dressed to do what?”

“The Reunification Ball.”

“Ah,” you grimace, “I’m not going.”

He stares you down, “you are.”

“I am not.”

“You are,” he retrieves a bag from behind his back and dangles it before your face, “I want every Marked one at the Ball. Consider it an order from your Wingleader.”

You don’t take the bag, instead glaring at him, “I’m not going.”

“Like I said, cadet,” his tone grows cold and firm. The tone of a Wingleader. He shoves the bag into your hands, “it’s an order.”

So you have no other choice but to attend.

“I knew you’d make it,” Bodhi says when he sees you storming out of your room, no doubt ordered by Xaden to ensure you’re actually keeping your word with the dress that he made you wear, “Imogen told me you were sulking.”

“I’m not sulking,” you don’t fail to notice that it’s not Liam that’s waiting for you today, and the thought unfortunately causes a sting in your heart that you truth to brush off.

But who are you kidding really?

“Sorry, you must be disappointed blondie boy isn’t here today,” Bodhi says like he can actually read your thoughts.

You chortle and kick him in the shins for good measure. He yelps before he throws you a scowl, “ow! Damnit Kaelle was that really necessary?!”

“Yes it was. If it serves to shut your mouth.”

“Gods woman. You’re so brutal,” he moans dramatically, “pretty sure you left a lasting bruise.”

The great Mess Hall where you usually eat your dinner has been scraped clean to give way to beautiful red drapes and arrays of foods, snacks and drinks along the far corner. Riders, Healers and Infantry are all present, a mix of blue and beige and white blending into a mixture of color that for once seems to be in harmony. A stark contrast to the reality that lives behind these walls.

The lights have dimmed and everyone looks more relaxed than usual. You follow Bodhi across the floor, trying not to let the wandering gazes of other people get to you despite the fact that it makes your skin crawl with unease. Soon enough, you spot the squad of Marked ones huddled together like a pack of tuna and can’t help but wonder if that makes it worse; the fact that they’re all clinging to each other in a sign of defiance.

Finding Xaden’s eyes involuntarily amidst the sea of faces that greet you, you can’t help but throw him a scowl. One that he responds with a wicked grin of his own.

“You look gorgeous,” he says to you.

You narrow your eyes at him, “why are you all huddled together like sheep?”

He shrugs, “they feel safer around each other I suppose,” and then throws his hands up in mock surrender, “I don’t know. I don’t make the rules.”

You can’t help but chortle because he does, actually, make the rules. He’s practically the king of all these ministrations happening under Basgiath’s nose.

It’s almost impulsive, the way your eyes do a quick scan of the area as if searching. No, you’re not actually searching, but you find him anyway; the blonde hair and the blue eyes and— gods, that dimple.

His gaze collides with yours and you wrench yourself away. Heat permeates your skin, embarrassment flushing through you as you look at everything, anything, to make it go away. To make your heart stop galloping like a wild horse.

Fuck. He’s seen you, hasn’t he?

You’re so filled with your own self-loathing that you barely take note of the little push that makes you stumble.

You frown, look down at you feet.

And see shadows. It should be normal. It is normal.

But then you feel it again, the way they tug you, push you slightly, causing you to stumble slightly.

Whipping your head into Xaden’s direction, you’re rewarded with his dark gaze glittering with mischief, as if he knows damn well what he’s doing, even lifting a brow as if to ask; go on. Go to him.

Xaden’s shadows are insistent as they push you further towards Liam and you’re cursing under your breath until you’re just a few paces away from the him. He’s beautiful tonight; hair slicked back and away from his face, tall broad frame filling out in a black suit that seems to hug his silhouette. It almost makes your mouth water.

He spots you before you can do anything — like run for your life— and dips his head into a nod.

“Hey,” your voice comes out small.

“Hey,” he answers.

It’s wary, guarded even.

“I—“ the words feel like sandpaper along your tongue, your eyes drop to a point on his chest, “I’m sorry.”

He blinks, then turns towards you, “for what?”

“For what I said,” you shift from one foot to the other, “for how I am.”

He’s quiet and you think that maybe he doesn’t want to divulge, so you opt for silence as well, taking this time to watch the couples on the dance floor and laughing like there’s no tomorrow.

You don’t know how this kind of happiness feels like. You wish you did. But somehow, it seems always out of your reach.

But then a small nudge along your arm makes your head turn to see Liam, who tilts his head towards the said couples.

“Wanna dance?”

Your first response is to make a run for it. As it is, your legs are itching to turn the other way and break into a sprint. But another small nudge from Xaden’s shadow — the one curling around the arch of your foot — has you stumbling straight into Liam’s chest.

His face breaks into a dimpled grin and before you know it he’s grasped your elbow and tugged you to the dance floor.

The first thing you take notice of is that he’s warm. Warmer than you’d expected. You don’t know where to put your hands, panic taking over as your palms hover over him. But that’s before he clasps one of your wrists to place it along his shoulder before his other hand grips the remaining one so that he can draw you to him.

There’s a small smile dangling along his lips as he leads you onto the floor, “you’re looking a little green, Cadet Loo.”

“I’m fine,” you retort, your hand automatically flexing along his shoulder.

The silence reigns for a while as he sways you to the music. For a minute, it's almost peaceful, almost relaxing. His scent, it's everywhere, wrapping you in a soft cocoon of warmth; a mixture of sandalwood and fresh laundry sheets and something else, something spicier that just defines Liam in general.

But when Liam speaks next, there is a weight to his words.

"It's not easy to trust people," his azure blue pierce through your dark maroon. It's like he can see right past you, right past the facade you've built for people to fear and cower. But not him. Never him, "especially when you've been let down your entire life."

Your eyebrow quirks up in curiosity. Where is he going with this?

"You asked whether I clean up all of Xaden's messes," he continues and you swear you can taste the bitterness in his voice. He twirls you around before clasping your waist back to his chest, "there's one thing I'd like you to understand, and that is that I owe Xaden my life."

Of course, your initial response is to ask why. But you decide to opt for silence as an indication for him to go on.

"When he asked me to look after Violet, I had no choice," Liam continues in a softer tone, "but that day, after he sparred with you, was not his mess that I needed to clean."

Oh, so that's what he's getting at. He's still not over the horrible things you'd spewed about him that particular night and wants to set things straight.

You were quite harsh on him that night, adds Dionne at the other end of your bond.

You don't bother replying. She's right, no argument there.

Part of you wants to run away, make a dash for it when he's not looking. But you can't, not when his blue eyes are piercing yours with an intensity that makes you want to squirm.

"I helped you, because I wanted to," Liam hesitates for a beat, bites onto his lower lip, "because I cared enough to worry about whether you were burning yourself out."

You blink.

"Maybe that wasn't what you needed," he makes a turn and you follow, dress billowing as you do so, "and I overstepped. I'm sorry, Kaelle."

You blink again.

This time, confusion springs through your mind. What is he on about?

"Why are you apologising?" you blurt out.

Liam looks at you in surprise, lips parting, "well uh--like I said, I overstepped when I shouldn't."

"No," you snap, suddenly annoyed by how kind he can be. How stupid. This kind of gentleness will never get him anywhere at this rate, "no. You shouldn't apologise. I'm the one that should, and I did. Let's leave it at that."

"Why are you mad then?"

"You're apologising when you did nothing wrong," you scowl at him, "kindness does not get you far, not at Basgiath."

"I wasn't just being kind," Liam lets out a chuckle and shakes his head, "gods, you don't get it, do you?"

"What?"

"That I--" he presses his lips together and for a minute, all you can do is stare up at him with narrowed eyes.

`'You know what? Never mind," he sidesteps to the right, just about avoiding another couple before he twirls you around one more time, "you look beautiful, by the way."

His sudden compliment causes your cheeks to blaze, "thanks," you choke out.

You're more than glad to escape his arms when a group of Marked ones make their way over, looking drunk over their heads and high up their arses. Making quick work of slipping out through the throng of cadets and upper years, you don't hesitate to grab your skirts before making your way out of the Mess Hall, into the courtyard. The breeze is a cool, gentle caress against your cheeks and you all but collapse against one of the big, marble columns lining the main staircase that leads to the courtyard.

The moon is high up in the sky, and there's no doubt that there's a splatter of stars streaking through the night if you tilt your head up to search for them.

That's when you notice Xaden, lingering by the staircase leading towards the First Year's Wing. He leans casually against the wall looking deep in thought, not even bothering to glance up as you approach.

"Bold you of you," your voice carries over through the wind, "to let your shadows manipulate me like that."

His dark gaze finds yours for a heartbeat, before he re-focuses his attention on the darkness beyond, "you needed a little push. All I did was give you that."

"I don't need your help, Wingleader."

He sighs, "you're so stubborn."

"Thanks, I got it from my Wingleader."

Xaden finally cracks a smile before he looks at you, "so there is something that makes Cadet Loo's heart soft."

You almost choke on your own spit, "I'm sorry--what?"

"I'm not blind Kaelle," he shifts from one foot to the other, "why are you so insistent on shutting him out?"

You know without the shadow of a doubt that he's referring to Liam. His sweet, dimpled smile flashes through your mind and your heart tugs at the ache it brings.

So you decide to turn this on him, "why are you insistent on keeping your distance from Cadet Sorrengail?"

Xaden tenses, "that's out of your rank, cadet."

"I don't think so, not if we're going to talk about my love life," you can't help but smirk, "so? are you going to answer my question?"

"Not if you don't answer mine."

Hm. He has a point and your ego doesn't want to be trampled on. You lift your chin up in defiance, "fine. An answer for an answer."

"Fine." his dark eyes glimmer with amusement, "do you like Mairi?"

Gods. Isn't he a little too blunt? "No."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying--"

"Fine. I was asking the wrong question," his lips curl up at the edges, "do you think Mairi likes you?"

"I--no."

"No?" he cocks his head.

"I don't know. I don't care," your scowl deepens, "why don't you ask him if you want to know so badly?"

"Just do us a favour and stop denying it, cadet," Xaden says with a sigh, "It's starting to get really frustrating watching you two rotate around each other but never fucking taking risks."

"It's my turn now," you remind him, "do you like Cadet Sorrengail?"

His nostrils flares, but he does reply, "I believe I do."

You blink at him, not having expected him to be so brutally honest with you, not when it comes to feelings, "oh."

"You'll keep this quiet if you know what's good for you."

"Yeah yeah I got it," you shoot him a look, "I'm not a tattle tale, in case you couldn't tell."

It's not Xaden's sudden confession that has you tossing and turning all night, but rather the admission that maybe Liam might have feelings for you. You're not sure how you feel about it; on one hand you don't want to have anything to do with him when there are so many other things to care about; like Xaden's rebellion and the Squad Battles and trying not to die every single day you make it to tomorrow. But on the other hand, another part of you is screaming at yourself, running around in circles, trying to find deeper meaning into any of your interactions. That part of you wants to revel in Liam's attention, wants to know what it feels like be loved for who you are, for what you are.

Why does he torment you so? asks Dionne through the bond link a few days later as you make your way to Battle Brief, her energy thrumming like a vibrant white light in the back of your lids.

I don't know, you tell her truthfully, it's not like I want to. He's just--always there. He haunts me.

Maybe the Wingleader is right, she says, maybe you do have feelings for the Mairi boy.

Having feelings in the Rider's Quadrant will only serve as a weakness.

Having feelings for someone is not something you can control, Dionne replies flatly.

"Hey Kaelle," Bodhi says as you enter the Battle Brief room. He is seated up int he furthest corner he could find, stowed away like a shadow along with Garrick and a few other Marked ones. You can't help but roll your eyes at how cliquey they're being, and stroll on to find an empty seat only to spot Imogen waving at you and motioning towards one beside her.

Quickly slipping through the aisles of disgruntled cadets, you make your way towards the pink-haired second year when you spot none other than Violet Sorrengail and-- low and behold, Liam.

You haven't spoken to him since that night at the ball. And Xaden's words just keep replaying in your brain, making you unable to act as you would around the blonde.

The sight of him and Violet sitting together has your stomach churning with a queasy sensation.

"Morning Kaelle," chirps Violet.

"Morning," Liam's eyes are bright as they find your face.

You nod, mutter out a "good morning" and turn towards the front before they can continue on with conversation.

That's how your day goes, with you trying (and failing) to ignore Liam so that you don't do anything you'd regret in the long run. You stick by Imogen's side throughout the rest of the classes and despite being stuck in the same squad, quickly find another sparring partner so that he doesn't have the chance to even ask you. But if Liam notices of your reticence, he doesn't show it. He still comes and finds you during your afternoon run, still talks to you about his day as he carves into his dragon figurines like you're not blatantly answering in monosyllables, still manages to find you amidst a sea of riders during dinnertime, though it's not that hard, considering the Marked ones (namely Bodhi, Garrick and Imogen) seem to suddenly have an interest in sticking by your side at all costs.

You're still training your signet at every chance you can get, practicing on Xaden and increasing the number of times you can wield as the weeks go by. It's a routine that you've set for yourself, along with your Wingleader, to ensure that you're up to speed about defending yourself. So imagine your shock when you turn up one early Thursday morning to discover that Xaden's gone-- apparently on a mission outside of Basgiath -- and that in his place is a half-awake Liam Mairi looking like he'd just rolled out of bed.

"What are you doing here?" shock lines your tone.

"Here to train you."

"Why you though?" it could be anyone. Imogen, Bodhi, Garrick...all of them flash through your mind, until you come to the realisation that Xaden has done this on purpose.

The little shit.

You're so going to get him and Violet into the most fucking embarrassing situation and we'll see who will be laughing then.

Oooh a sabotage plan, Dionne purrs from the bond, I like the way you think.

He deserves it after everything he makes me go through, you reply with gritted teeth.

Liam merely raises a brow in amusement. He crosses his arms, "am I not good enough for you, Cadet Loo?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then I see no issue," amusement glitters in his blue-eyed gaze, "shall we?"

Turns out, Liam is a great opponent.

He fights with the quiet confidence that Xaden has, but is so much more precise in his moves, Rather than raw power that Xaden uses, Liam is careful, deft, his movements calculated with intention. And he adapts as easily as water, dodging and swiftly evading before you can reach him. You get a few punches in though, with the use of your signet, but one wrong turn and Liam's punch sends you flying to the other end of the mat.

You scramble up as fast as you can, but his arms grab your elbows and he all but tumbles you over onto your back, one knee between your thighs and his weight pressing down onto your chest until you let out a quiet gasp.

"Good effort, Loo.” he murmurs. With him on top of you so scandalously, you can't help but feel every inch of his firm build pressed against your curves, a temptation that causes heat to build in your lower stomach.

It worsens with butterflies when you feel his nose brush against yours.

Your mouth parts.

You blink up at him. His breath mingles with yours.

His eyes are a darker shade of blue in the dim lights of the sparring gym. But they darken even more when he holds your gaze.

There's something there. Too much emotion. The kind that makes your chest ache. The kind that makes you forget to breathe.

Oh.

He's so close.

"Let me go," you wish for the words to come out strong. Confident. Instead, they sound just like a restrained whimper.

Liam is still searching your face, as if dazed by the sudden proximity between your two bodies.

Too close.

You shove him without warning and with a cry, he topples onto his back as you straddle his hips this time, hands pinning down his arms with a victorious smirk.

"Not so cocky now, are we?" you murmur out, hating the way your heart sputters upon taking note of his dimple when he cracks a grin up at you, "hate to admit it but," he shakes his head, "you fight good."

You retreat and help him up to his feet before you're finding your water bottles for a little break. God knows you need it when all you can feel is the residual heat in your cheeks from being so close to the said blonde.

A distraction, surely.

"How are you feeling about the Squad Battle?"

Liam's question causes your eyes to flit towards him. You shrug, "I'm not too worried, to be honest."

"Confident," he quips.

"I’m being realistic," you lean back against the bleachers, "we’ve been training for this ever since parapet. There’s no reason we’ll lose.”

“You were pretty badass on the Gauntlet.”

“Yeah,” that reminds you of the cadets who didn’t. The ones whose lives were cut short as soon as their grip had slipped.

Your fingers unconsciously tighten on your bottle. It can be you, or it can be Liam at any point in time. The thought makes your stomach curl and you’re surprised by your own reaction.

“How’s Sorrengail holding up?” You ask him then, sparing him a glance.

He looks at you in surprise, “she’s good. If you don’t count the amount of times she gets her ass kicked on Mat.”

“I think everyone gets their asses handed to them on mat at some point.”

“Not me.”

You roll your eyes at his confidence, but a small smile tugs at your lips nevertheless, “confident.”

But he is right. Liam is one of the best fighters of your year and you haven’t seen him falter, not once.

“How’d you fight so good?” You can’t hell but ask.

He shifts forward until his shoulder brushes yours. The warmth sends ripples down your spine, “the Orphanage I was placed in after our parents…they didn’t like having weaknesses. I was trained from very early on.”

“Makes sense. My foster parents wanted me to sit still and be pretty so that I could marry as quickly as possible.”

Liam looks at you grimly, “that must’ve been pretty tough.”

“Tell me about it,” you take another gulp of your water, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “they just wanted money and status so that they could live their lives without having to lift a finger and I—“ your throat tightens, memories of their faces, of the disappointment and guilt washing over you, “—I thought they loved me.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Kaelle.” Liam whispers hoarsely, “that’s— that’s sick.”

You stay quiet. There are so many other things they did to you— that they let other men try to do to you— but you don’t want to speak the words aloud, for fear that they’ll haunt you in your sleep.

A warmth brushes against the back of your hand. It’s Liam’s. Gentle, light. Almost tentative. A sign of comfort. One that you’d usually shove away with all your might.

But you don’t.

Instead, you watch the way his knuckles brush against yours in a way that makes your heart sputter, causing you to bite your lip and look away as a horde of butterflies threaten to explode along your ribs.

This softness, it’s not something you’re used to.

“Hey,” his words are tender, practically a whispered breath, "you okay?"

"I'm fine."

His eyes are on you. You can feel it without looking at him, probing you, searching for answers in your features.

Your chest feels tight with secrets practically bursting along your tongue and suddenly, you blurt out without thinking, "I still trusted them, despite everything. I thought that maybe if I listened to what they said, if I did whatever they told me to do, no matter how scared or angry I was, maybe--" tears burn at the corner of your eyes and you look away, hating that Liam is seeing that side of you. Loathing that you can't even hold yourself together, "--maybe they would love me like I'm one of theirs."

Liam hooks a finger around your thumb, slowly sliding along your palm until his hand engulfs yours.

The act is too intimate, he's too close for you.

And yet, you can't seem to find the energy to pull away.

You stay there for a while, fingers interlaced as you listen to the slow hum of the generators a the back of the training room. The blonde's thumb has slowly started tracing soft patterns over your outer knuckles, an act that leaves tantalising heat spreading up through your arm, permeating the back of your neck.

You swallow thickly. Your eyes flit towards your conjoined hands. They dart back up to his face, quickly averting towards the floor when you notice he's been gazing at you all along.

You swear you feel a smile spread across Liam's face when he asks, "what?"

"Nothing," you mutter. You don't have to look at yourself to know you're blushing. The heat is practically rolling off your cheeks at this point.

You hear him chuckle before he tugs you towards him.

“Hey,” crystal blue eyes search yours with the kind of open vulnerability that triggers your heartstrings, “no one can hurt you here.”

“I know that.”

His lips press into a thin line, “your face says otherwise.”

“I—“ you suck in a breath, your voice trailing off into a broken murmur, “I can’t help it. The things that I endured… their voices haunt me. It almost feels—“ you bite your lip, “— like they’re still here.”

A warm hand comes up to cradle your face and you yelp, flinching back on instinct as panic soars through your chest.

Liam’s hand falls away, “sorry,” he lifts the limb up in mock surrender, guilt etched in his features, “sorry I—not the face. Got it.”

“Sorry,” you mutter out.

“Don’t apologize,” his other hand distracts you with his soft touch, probably the only piece of you that you’ll give him for today, “you can talk to me, yeah? If things get hard?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean it,” his gaze locks on yours, “I’m not going anywhere.”

You don’t answer, but you’d be lying to yourself if that doesn’t make your heart hurt in all the best of ways.

You pray that Malek doesn’t take Liam’s soul that night.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It starts off really slow, at first.

It’s so slow that you barely notice it, the tiniest shifts of skin against skin. The tiniest movements ebbing with warmth with every step that Liam takes towards you.

If you were anyone else, you’d probably say that’s as romantic as you can get.

“He likes you,” signs Jesinia for what seems to be the hundredth time this past hour as you all but deny her words. You’re currently hiding away in the library so that you don’t have to think about the upcoming War Games. It’s a surprise that you even made it through the Squad Battle, though knowing that Liam’s Squad had won does send bitterness down your throat. Their squad is the strongest after all, one that you’re pretty certain you won’t beat no matter what.

You try not to focus on the fact that you lost three of your teammates during this mission.

“He’s just being nice,” you sign back upon realizing that she’s been waiting for your response. You lean against the cream colored couch with a sigh, forcing away thoughts of Liam from your brain.

“That’s not just being nice. He actually likes you, it’s written all over his face,” Jesinia responds.

“Shut up Jesinia.”

“Rude,” she sticks out her tongue, “tell me when you guys kiss though.”

Your face flames, “not funny!”

In truth, he has been paying a lot more attention to you ever since that night in the training gym. Not quite touching you, but definitely finding your hand whenever he deems it possible.

During Battle Brief for instance, where he’d slide his palm over until he engulfed your hand under the table, not letting go despite you going red, despite you trying your best to tug your hand away.

“What are you doing?!” You’d hiss at him with narrowed eyes.

“Hm?” He’d hummed, hiding his smile into his other palm as gentle blue eyes would finds yours with so much emotion you’d feel your chest tighten and look away.

Or during sparring sessions, where his touch would linger longer than necessary; hand finding the back of your spine to pull you up, arm circling around your waist when your legs gave out, tugging you so hard you tripped right into his chest in a blushing mess that made you want to combust on the spot because— really? You could survive Threshing, you managed to survive Squad Battle and yet, this was what could be the death of you? Really?

You’d spent so long running away from people, outrunning the past that would still haunt your dreams and the touches that would send your mind reeling with disgust, that you’ve forgotten how it feels like for someone to touch you for reasons other than to hurt you. It’s more than a little foreign, but Liam does it so easily, worming his way into your heart without you knowing, like sunlight reaching for your skin before you have time to process how good it feels, how alive it makes you feel.

It’s on a late evening as you’re walking back to your dorm that things start to change. The walk is innocent enough, casually exchanging conversation as you ignore the way your shoulders brush, the way your hands drift towards each other’s. But you’re not surprised— not anymore — when his hand finds yours in a firm, comforting grip.

“How does it feel,” you’re asking him, trying not to sigh in bliss at how good it feels to have his thumb brushing your knuckles, or how stupidly pathetic you feel for being putty into his hands, “to have won the Squad Battle?”

“Honestly?” His brow furrows, “I was a bit worried.”

Your expression matches his, “hm?”

“I was worried about you,” his admission is soft, barely audible amidst the soft croon of trees and foliage dancing in the wind.

You stop in your tracks, “no,” you look at him dead in the face, “no. You don’t get to do that.”

“What?”

“You—“ you shake your head, “you don’t get to worry about me. That was not our deal—“

“And what, exactly, is our deal?” He asks softly, pulling you to him to decrease the distance.

“I…” but you’re distracted because he’s so close so suddenly. You have no choice but to tilt your head up to meet his eyes, “I’m not quite sure… I follow.”

Liam’s gaze searches your features, assessing, still treading unfamiliar waters. It’s hard to keep logic and reason above the sudden roaring of emotions taking hold of you and all you want to do is wrench yourself out of this predicament as quickly as possible because dear god you feel like you’re losing control of all your senses.

When Liam speaks next, his voice has dropped an octave and you feel it vibrating through your very bones.

“You can berate me all you want about worrying. But I can’t help it,” he lowers his face to yours. Your breath hitches, “you make it impossible not to worry about you.”

Surprise slams into you, “what—are you saying?”

Instead of answering, the blonde tugs at your hands and pulls it up so that you can see it, “does that—“ he squeezes your palm softly, “—mean anything to you?”

Heat swathes the back of your neck and you lower your eyes, “I—I don’t know. You tell me what you’ve been doing with me all this time.”

Liam chuckles, the sound so deep it rumbles through his chest like a storm, “gods, Kaelle. You are dense for someone so smart.”

“Excuse me?! That’s—“

He gives you no time. Pulls you so that you crash into him and wraps his arms around your waist before you have a clue about what’s happening.

Before you know it, he’s gotten you engulfed in a hug, his cheek pressed against the side of your head as he pushes yours into his chest, tucked underneath his chin like he believes he needs to protect you.

Alarms go off in your brain. Your body tenses, as if on alert, but his voice is soft as it echoes through your ear: “relax for me?”

It takes some huge effort from your part.

Like flight or fight reaction, you’re at odds with your brain.

But you do, after a few beats of hesitation. It’s not easy, and you have to keep reminding yourself that this isn’t at all like your past, that Liam is not anything like your parents, that this— whatever this is— is made out of warmth and comfort and love.

Things change after that night.

There’s a shift in the air, like a new door has been opened. But soon you find Liam a little bolder with his touches, and dare you say, you actually don’t mind it.

He keeps things private whenever there are eyes around; finding your hand under tables and pressing his knee against yours as a gesture of comfort, leaning his shoulder into yours as he listens in on Battle Brief, and merely resorting to ruffling your hair during your banters.

But it’s the small acts of tenderness that he does whenever you guys are found alone; pulling you to him behind trees only to hug you, his knuckles drifting along your cheekbones whenever you had dirt, blood or mud along your face, leaning over you from behind when you sit at your desk with piles and piles of homework, adding on his comments and guiding you through material you don’t quite understand all while you feel his breath brush the side of your head, the heat of his chest permeating your back. The sight is surprisingly too attractive and you’re always reduced to a blushing mess afterwards, hating how your face gives you away so easily.

“Are you guys dating?” Imogen asks you suddenly after Battle Brief one day and you almost lose it, dropping all your pens and papers in shock.

You gape at her with stuttered heartbeats, “I—No—it’s nothing like th—“

“Oh save the excuses,” Imogen throws you an exasperated look, “do me a favour instead and just hook up with the guy.”

“What the fuck Imogen!” You splutter in embarrassment.

“She is telling the truth,” Garrick says from your other side, a surprising appearance considering he’s always shadowing Xaden for stuff. God knows what, you don’t want to know, “his balls are probably blue at this point, and it’s definitely not because of winter.”

Your face flames at his joke, heart practically falling out of your chest at his insinuations. You and Liam? No way. You can’t imagine a world where that’s a possibility.

You’re too unstable. Volatile. Liam is… everything that you’re not. And you cannot fathom a future where that might be possible.

Because you’re used to ruining things. That’s what you’ve done your whole life.

Nevertheless, their words stick to you like caramel and you're unable to shake them off no matter how hard you try. So that's how you corner the said blonde cadet a few days later as he's leaving for the flight field.

"Kaelle?" His brow raises in question before his face breaks into a dimpled grin, "need anything?"

"I--" you flex your hands, knuckles turning white as you gripped onto your pants for something steady to hold, "Can I ask you something?"

He placed his flight goggles on his head and tugs it down onto his neck, looking more and more confused, "sure?"

"Do you want to fuck me?"

Liam practically chokes on his own spit, "wha--I'm--sorry?" He splutters out as his face turns bright, beetroot red, flushing all the way up to his ears.

"Do you--" you're blushing too, you can feel the heat sizzling off you, "do you want to fuck me?"

"That's--" he keeps on shaking his head and looks at you in a mixture of shock, surprise and horror, "where--what are you talking about?"

"Just answer my question, Mairi."

You're glad that your voice, at least, doesn't give away the fact that this is probably the most embarrassing thing you could've ever done to yourself.

"I--" he presses his lips into a thin line, "I would be lying if I said no."

Heat spreads across your stomach, dips down into your lower belly, "why?" you croak out.

"What--" Liam looks like he's about to make a run for it, eyes flickering back and forth between you and the flight field a few meters beyond, "what do you mean--why? I--Yes, I mean--No, that's not the sole reason why I'm talking to you but--"

"But?"

"But if you ask me this, like that, then..." his jaw flexes, "Yes. Yes I would."

"I asked you why," you replied, "are you a player? Are you bored? Is this normal in the rider's quadrant, to be hooking up with everyone you want?" A pause, as realization dawns, "is this why you've been all--touchy with me? Holding my hand and shit?"

"Gods no," He looks absolutely mortified, "hey, that's not why I'm--"

"Then why are you being so--so--" you can't find the words, motioning at the air instead in hopes that he'd understand.

"I--" but you hear the sound of the Flight Commandant's voice starting roll call in the distance and you know now is not the time for answers.

Liam grasps your shoulder and tugs you closer, "listen, I'm sorry. I gotta go," he throws you an apologetic look, squeezing your shoulder blade, "but I'll answer all your questions tonight. I promise."

You gaze into his bright blue eyes, "You mean that?"

"Promise," and before you know it he leans over, pressing a chaste kiss along your temple before he's jogging off and sprinting for his life, leaving you and your heart racing like you've just ran a marathon or flew over the gauntlet thrice without stopping.

He finds you in your room that night.

A knock resounds off your door and you turn, book still in hand and currently buried in piles of homework, to find Liam -- all washed up, hair still sticking out and dripping from his shower, in soft cotton pants and t-shirt with a towel slung around his shoulders.

In the dim amber light of your room, he looks softer. Bathed in a golden halo that stirs something in your heart.

"Hi," he murmurs, clear his throat, "can I come in?"

You nod silently and he takes a step inside, closing your door in the process with a firm push. You close up your book and put your pens away as he strides over to the bed, glancing at you with hesitation as he allows himself to sit by the edge.

He still has those darned eye goggle marks along his face and your hands ache to touch them, run over his skin and his freckles and count how many he has.

But you don’t. You curl your hands into your lap, wrapping them around your knees to keep yourself sane, "how was Flight Field?"

"Tough,” he ruffles the back of his head with his towel, “never gets easier. But Deigh is a lot more cooperative than most.”

“Which means?”

“He catches me when I fall,” he shakes his head, “some dragons are not as merciful."

That is quite cruel. Horrible, almost inhuman. But then again, dragons aren't like humans. They don't live by the same rules, the same way human society is built.

Sometimes, just sometimes, you wonder about a life far, far away from all this.

"So," Liam leans his elbows onto his knees before he turns to look at you over his shoulder, a look of masked indifference on his face. Despite that, you still catch the wariness, the unease in his eyes. They speak more truths than anything you've ever said this year.

"What was that all about earlier?" his question is a soft murmur. Probing. Not quite aggressive. But firm, not quite soft either.

He wants to know. He has questions. Questions that only you can answer.

You shift, wary about his closeness. He can engulf the space, swallow it whole in a heartbeat if he wants to. But still, Liam sits on the edge. Waiting, patient. Always so patient.

Your heart twists painfully in your chest.

"I don't do hook ups," you start off slow, trying to gage his reaction through each word that spills from your lips, "I don't like meaningless sex. I've never done it. But people have, and people talk. Imogen and Garrick," you lift your chin, eyes meeting his, "they think we should hook up."

"Do you?"

You blink at him. Your lips part, "I--" you look away, towards your hands. Anything to get away from these stormy aquamarine pools that makes your insides simmer with heat, "I don't know. Is that what you're looking for?"

"No," he responds almost immediately. His voice is clear, like he knows exactly what he's saying. What he wants, "I'm not doing this for the sex."

Your mouth presses in a tight line, "hm.”

“I’m not playing with you,” he continues, turning fully so that he can lock gazes with you, “and I definitely don’t do meaningless sex.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

He blinks, “doing what?”

“This," you motion towards the air, "the hand-holding, the fact that you're always so close within touching distance, hugging me when you think no one's looking and earlier--" the thought of his lips against your forehead has you seeing fireworks for a split second, "--why?"

He takes his time, letting the weight of your words settle across the room like a blanket. It should've been jarring and annoying, that he's not quick to deflect your words with a response all because he's seeing you all riled up and worked over something that people might've thought to be trivial in another context.

No.

He just shifts closer until his knee brushes yours. His lips part into a silent breath before he dips his head down to hold eye contact with you, one hand sliding up slowly -- so as not to shock you -- to cup the back of your elbow in a hold that makes you feel like you're something precious, something akin to a baby.

When he speaks next, you swear your heart does a 180-flip.

"Because I like you."

You stare.

And stare.

And would've kept staring, if not for Liam's sudden little chuckle that has you snapping back to reality and shutting your mouth just in case you drool.

"What--" you swear your ears are ringing with the aftermath of this literal verbal bomb, "--what did you say?"

"I like you," he repeats it as clear as day and your heart does another flop around on its other side, "actually," his thumb brushes over your elbow as he murmurs out, "I might love you."

"Shut up, Mairi," your voice is shaky as you tug your hand away, "you don't know what you're talking about."

His eyes dance with emotion in the dim light of the room, golden flecks in his hair where the light bounces off, "I'm simply answering your question."

"But--" your face flames red with embarrassment, "you cannot say things like that."

People don't just say these words. They have to mean them, and you haven't lived long enough for someone to actually say these aloud to you. Not your foster parents, not any of your friends, definitely not anyone you'd met on Basgiath grounds.

"Why not?" Liam murmurs.

"Because this isn't a game. It's not a joke. I might be dead tomorrow, you might be," you snap, "this isn't the time to be talking about feelings and--"

"Kaelle, does it ever occur to you that I don't give a fuck about whether we'll live or die tomorrow?" he cuts you off.

You blink, "what?"

Liam shifts so that he's pressing even closer and the reduced distance between his face and yours has your tummy twisting so hard it makes you press your lips together, "you asked me why I hold your hand," his hand trails down as if on cue to tangle his fingers through yours in his lap, "why I hug you, why I'm being like this. The truth is, I'm doing it because I can't help myself," he lets out a slow, ragged breath, "and I'm not looking for anything from you. I promise."

The look you give him is filled with so much doubt that he laughs half-heartedly and leans back to flick your forehead.

"I mean it," his voice is a soft murmur. Impulsively, his hand goes up to brush against your cheekbone, "I don't need anything else, I'm not expecting anything else. Just--gods, don't push me away."

He's so sweet it's sickening. And yet, the butterflies in your stomach are telling you otherwise, practically bubbling up with the kind of heat that drizzles right down to your lower belly and flushes you straight up through your neck.

Liam doesn't say anything else. He doesn't have to.

He tugs at your arm. Softly, gently, so as not to startle you, until you're being pulled into his lap. Your lips bubble up with a protest, only for the words to die on your tongue the moment his arms come around your middle to anchor you to his chest.

With one swift move, the blonde swivels you round so that he's the one resting against your headboard, you on him, practically cushioned in his lap like a child.

You blink, cheeks fiery with embarrassment as you attempt a frown, "what in the world are you doing?!" you snap at him, though your words don't hold much bite.

Or, well...they do. But Liam has long since been able to read between the lines with you.

He just grins, dimples flashing. Your heart stutters and before you know it he's got his face buried in the crook of your neck.

He nuzzles into the crevice of your collarbone, sighing like this is exactly what he needs to calm him down.

"Mairi," you poke at his arm. Still rigid, still tense. Is he--is he going to stay this way? "Mairi."

You groan and attempt to squirm, "Liam?"

He hums. His nose moves up, nuzzling your ear, "can we stay like this?"

"I--"

"Please."

It's the way he says it that has your heart caving in like a fucking damsel in distress and you really want to pull out your hair at this very moment.

But you cannot deny him. And he senses it, for he merely pulls you even closer until your bodies are meshed together in one single, solid piece.

And that's when he says, "relax for me."

You doze off into his arms that night, for once your knife forgotten along your bedspread.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

A/N: Part 2 will be up as soon as I'm done with it, but here's what I have so far. I was supposed to publish it earlier but honestly I got stuck halfway through because I just want to do a good job writing and fleshing out Kaelle and Liam's characters TT3TT

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screampied · 1 year ago

Note

{nsfw warning}

okay but like…. could you would you write teacher x student nanami where you would keep teasing him and obviously, because he has a lot of self control he wouldn’t break, he’d gently push off your teasing and wandering hand when he’s trying to explain to you a question………… but then he burns for you secretly he wants you so bad and he can’t have you and then one day you come to class with a slutty and revealing outfit and that’s just the last straw for him…………… he def gives you want you want then 🌚

okay but real talk if you’re not comfortable with writing that like for example just professor x student that would also be completely fine i just want you to know i love love love ur writing sm <3 one of my favorite writers fr i check your blog everyday 🫶 thank you for feeding us with content mama

❤︎ ໋𓈒 having professor nanami teach you another method

warnings. fem! reader, reader's in university, dumbification, spanks, sir kink, brat reader, dirty talk, creampie. mdni.

an. thank u thank u eee !! 💟

“you can’t keep coming in here like this and expect me not to say anything,” your professor murmurs, and he’s leaning over you. you’re doing a failing attempt to copy some notes he had displayed for you on the board. he smelled so good, such a loud rousing scent that never failed to make you dizzy. he always does that thing where when he points towards a certain spot towards your paper, his arm would brush up against you. or—you’d accidentally do the same, except you always made it more obvious.

“like … what?” you’d raise your eyebrows, glancing up at nanami and he had the more stern yet relaxed look. it took everything in him to not let his eyes roam, your outfit.

he clicks his tongue in sheer annoyance, as always you were testing his patience. he told you to stay after because you weren’t exactly getting good marks. “nevermind,” he grumbles, and your eyes linger towards his neat matching black tie. “as i was saying before, for this particular method you have to—”

nanami desists with his words the moment you sit up, and you intentionally press against him. against there. “oops,” you giggle, and his jaw tightens.

staring down to see the thin fabric of your skirt raise up just a bit. you prod against the buckle of his belt. then you gasp once nanami brings a hand towards your waist. “oh. what—are you gonna spank me, professor?”

“you’d probably enjoy that,” he murmurs, and you’re just dumbly bent over his desk—you smother your glossed lips together before feeling him softly brush a thumb against your hip. “do you just choose not to listen? this course isn’t even that relatively hard.”

“i just don’t understand,” you hum, wittingly playing coy. as you sat against the wooden desk, he’s right behind you and the way he has you bent over for him — it was so lewd. nanami was a few inches taller than you, so he just stared over you as you faced front. “besides, your method is kind of.. old school.”

“…old school.” he repeats in a scoff.

a snicker slips past your lips before you gasp, feeling a tug at your skin. and that’s when you feel the soft linen of his tie wrap around your wrists softly, creating a soft neat knot. “fine, you wanna understand easier, bend over and keep your eyes on the paper then.”

“yes sirrr.” you’d sing, not taking him seriously at all. nanami was nice, which was rare out of your other professors. yet you pushed his limits everytime, and little did you know. his entire cordial persona was gonna change.

just a little bit…

nanami traced his fingers against your skin, your skimpy fishnets — as you pressed right into him, your ass prods against his bulge. you let off a soft moan as he gently caresses your ass, lifting up your skirt that was just barely shielding your rear.

“you know this kind of attire isn’t allowed but you wear it anyway,” he breathes, and he’s so gentle. you felt the soft grip of his tie going around your wrist before he shuffles in his pants a bit. “i hear you laughing. what’s so funny? enlighten me.”

“nothing, kent—.”

an abrupt slap to your ass cuts you off and you let off a soft whine.

“s-sir.” you corrected yourself, and you throbbed at how sudden his mood changed. you wanted more of him, being bent over his desk did something to you.

nanami lets off a grunt the moment he starts to gradually work his way inside of you—your panties stuck against your thighs, just barely pulled down, and you moan once he starts to sink his thick cock into you.

“f-fuck, already soaked for me,” and then he lightly pushes you further against the desk. your chest bumps against the edge with the many scattered papers. “do you touch yourself during my lectures? be honest.”

you swallow, feeling him reach deep and you find it hard to formulate words due to your whining. his dick was so fat, stretching you, wearing you thin. “…yeah,” you utter. “that’s why i asked for you to c-change my seat to sit up front so you could get a better view.”

nanami’s breath hitch before he sibilates. “such a nasty girl. knew you’d say something like that.”

he felt your slick wetness cling against him, you’re so wet it makes him kiss his teeth—you moan, feeling his hips continue to rub against you. being fucked against the desk, the creaking of the wood was so loud, it was screeching. amongst that, the only noises that could be heard in the office was you, the constant skin slapping, and the vents whistling in the air.

“do you—do you think about me while you’re lecturing?” you hide back a moan, back perfectly arched. you were genuinely curious, and a soft smile goes against his lips as he keeps your hips steady. “i see you staring at me sometimes.”

“just one time,” he replies, and his voice was so husky. nanami’s balls thwack against you, and you’re so dizzy.

you didn’t think he’d be so packed. you started to mentally drool, just envisioning the loads of cum he had stored up. the rough fabric of his black slacks — that were pulled down towards his thighs….went against you each time he pivots his hips, in and out, in and out. “i don’t know why you push me so much, sweetheart. is it attention? is that what you want?”

“y-yes,” you stammer, and his pace was balanced yet frantic. vigorous hits against your cunt, the tip just marginally kissing against your most sensitive spot and you whimpered from the stimulation. “you barely give me attention.”

he chuckles, skimming a thumb down your back before muttering. “well, yeah. i have other people to teach, not just you,” and then his voice grows soft, leaning in to kiss down your skin — he’s pressed right against your bare ass and you moan. “are you jealous? you have some nerve being jealous when you can barely even understand the curriculum.”

you’d spit something sarcastic back at him, but you were too fucked out already to comprehend. nanami hums against your neck, his buttoned up shirt tickling your back before you moan. you’re being pounded against the desk with your hands behind your back. “k-kentoo.”

“what’d i tell you about calling me that, baby?” he whispers, making you move your ass up just a bit. you arch upward and at this particular angle, hes so deep you’re about to lose it. nanami knew how you loved whenever he called you that.

‘…baby.’

running a tongue against your lips, you were panting…

loving each mean thrust he’s giving you, pumping you full of inches, and you have to remind yourself to be quiet. it’s not like the two of you are entirely secluded. there were probably people still around, then again…you kind of didn’t care.

his fingers went against your skin, softly piercing into your hips, stroking with his thumb while his hits against your cunt were the entire opposite. sloppy, sensual yet somewhat amorous.

“all this time went by and you never picked up your pen,” he grunts, continuously working himself inside. he was a perfect fit — a perfect match, nanami had you gripping against him tight. so good, he felt you pulse and clench. “dumb sloppy girl. jus’ listen how vocal you’re being down here, princess.”

you whine, biting your tongue whilst he’s buried to the hilt, breaching inside of you. his hips buck against you before your voice starts to pitch a bit higher and your legs starts to jolt in anticipation. “think.. think ‘m gonna cum sir.”

“m-me too,” he huffs, slow deep strokes to make your knees weak and buckle. nanami was so precise with his movements, he wanted to make sure you felt everything—you’re being bounced against the desk. his hips pick up just a tad bit before he presses all the way against you, balls deep. “you didn’t want my help, did you? you wanted me to help you like this?”

“yes sir,” you nod, your vision being blurred by the papers all up against you. your eyes roamed amongst the many incorrect marks nanami made, pointing your stupidity right in your face. “f-finish inside, please.. please.”

nanami’s jaw tightens at your words, you’re preparing to milk him dry — he groans, shoving your hips into him time after time. you pick up your pen, only to chew on the tip. he was so big, hefty with such a fat base. it hammers against you to where you can almost taste your incoming release on your tongue.

“fuck…you’re gonna make me dump such a big load. ‘s that what you want, dirty girl? arched all over my desk like this, so inappropriate..” he murmurs, his voice was silky, laced with a sweet tone that made you pulse.

“please, please…kento. i want to feel you. please.”

your folds were soaked, you could just imagine what it looked like. you whined out a whine from the feeling of his girth expanding throughout your clenched walls. nanami grabs onto your wrists with his tie perfectly holding against it. as you writhe in pleasure, you feel it. it’s approaching, and you feel ecstasy work its way up.

the moment you cum — nanami matches your speed, and indeed, he spills the bulkiest load into your pussy, it’s so much that your lips part. your mouth forms into a gasping expression and your ears grow hot, legs weak.

“s-so…much,” you’d whine, feeling it trickle out, many ropes of cum just emptying into you. it stuck against your thighs once he pulled out, and your professor brings a thumb towards your clit to smear it against your folds before pulling it back up for you. “thank y-you.”

“mhm,” he lowly grunts, untying your wrists with his tie while giving it a swift timing, watching it unravel. this position — it was definitely a favorite. leaned over his desk like this, you didn’t want it to end.

you let off a soft mewl, feeling yourself be coated with now cum filled panties, it’s sticky and you feel it while he readjusts your skirt. “so,” you panted, turning around to face him, a sheepish smile going against your lips. “did…did i pass?”

nanami gives you a soft three second glance before going against your ear, planting a kiss against your neck before muttering, “no, baby. you failed. but there’s always next year.”

#★vegasbaby.#nanami x reader #nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #female reader #anime smut #jjk drabbles #jjk fic

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happy74827 · 2 years ago

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Bittersweet Blunders

[Mike Schmidt x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: In what was supposed to be the "perfect date" turns into an absolute dumpster fire of a night. Fortunately for Mike, you couldn't care at all about it.

WC: 4295

Category: Mega Fluff

So it seems that a lot of people like my Mike fics (yay), so I wrote another one because why not. At this point, my entire masterlist will just consist of this man, and I'm 100% here for it. Also, I don't know why fluff is the hardest for me to write, but this is my attempt at a full-on cuteness overload without a drop of angst (I apparently live for the drama), so we'll see how this goes.

『••✎••』

You were a very bubbly, cheerful person. You always thought that it was one of the best qualities that someone could have, and while it wasn't always the case, it always helped you in the past to brighten up anyone's day, as well as the other way around. You were always the life of the party, and you'd always make sure that everyone had a great time whenever you were with them.

It was probably one of the reasons Mike had liked you so much, though it had taken him quite some time to admit it to himself. He didn't want to believe it at first; after all, Mike was usually the guy who kept his feelings in, but as time went on, he couldn't keep denying the fact that he liked your presence and always wanted to be around you.

For him, you were a ray of sunshine in his otherwise very dull life. Sure, Abby had been a joy, and still is, but you... you were just special in a way that Mike couldn't explain. You had a certain quality about you that he couldn't describe, and he's never been able to figure out what it is that made you stand out so much to him. You were the complete opposite of him. His black clothes, your bright smile. His gloominess, your cheerfulness. His silence, your bubbly voice. His abrasive demeanor, your kind words.

Even though you were completely opposite of him in personality, there was one thing that you both shared in common. You were both attracted to each other in a way that you couldn't explain, even to yourself. But it was a feeling that you were sure of, and the fact that you're finally together made you realize why.

When he had started dating you, it had been like the clouds parted for him. The sky cleared up, and everything felt right again. He felt like his life was finally stitching itself back together, and suddenly, he and Abby were a lot closer, too. It was almost like a weight was lifted off of his chest, and he was finally able to breathe again.

Your relationship was very new to him, as you were the first relationship he'd ever had. But now that you were with him, he wouldn't have it any other way. You were just... you. You made him happy in a way that no one else had, and he was determined to make sure that you felt the same way.

Of course, you felt the same way.

For you, Mike was your best friend. He had been the one person who'd been able to make you smile in your worst moments. He was always there when you needed him, and you'd always made sure to do the same thing for him. He was your ray of sunshine despite him not acting much like one. You loved the little things that made him tick, like his strange fascination with coffee and the fact that he always had a blanket in the car with him, just in case he was tired or cold. It made him feel like home to you.

And it was exactly how Mike felt with you, too, obviously for different reasons, of course, but all the same. He loved every single thing about you, no matter what. Your personality, your voice, even the way you walk, he loved every single bit of it. The first time you two had kissed, it was almost as though fireworks were going off all around you both, and Mike could've sworn he heard angels sing as well.

You were a ray of sunshine to him, and now that you were in his life, he couldn't see himself without you. He loved you more than he could say, and he was determined to show that to you, always.

That's why he decided he would take the day off of work to plan out the perfect date for you two. He didn't know exactly what you were into; you always seemed to be good with anything, but he knew he had to try and do something nice. After all, you were worth it. You were the most special person in his life, second to Abby, of course, but special just the same.

So he set off to find you a nice place to have dinner, a thing neither one of you had done since the start of the relationship. You had usually just eaten at his place or gone somewhere that served coffee (somewhere more in Mike's price range), but he wanted something a bit fancier; after all, today was special, and he saved up enough to make it happen. He wanted you to have a nice day out, just like you always did for him whenever he had a bad day.

He eventually found you a place, a fancy Italian restaurant that he thought you would like, and made reservations for a place with a nice view of the sunset, just so you could watch it with him. It was going to be a great night.

Of course, it had been the complete opposite of what Mike had thought it would be. Two hours before the planned evening, the person covering his job for him just had to cancel on him at the last minute, leaving him to panic. He hadn't told you the surprise for the evening at all, so he had to make several, several calls just to find a replacement for his job and then to find a babysitter for Abby. Max... Well, Max wasn't around much anymore, and since you were the usual babysitter for Abby, it took Mike a while to find someone who was available, and even when he did, it took nearly twenty minutes for them to show up.

But he got it fixed and done in good time. His car was a little bit messy, and his "nice" shirt might have been a little wrinkly for the occasion, but to see the smile on your face when you got to his car made it worth it.

"You're wearing a tie," you commented, your face full of surprise as you hopped inside

"What can I say? It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing," Mike replied, turning the ignition and starting the car. He looked back at you, the smile on your face making his heart flutter just as much as it had the first time he'd laid his eyes on you. "Did I, um... You look great."

You were wearing a very nice dress, something that Mike had always loved on you, and it fit you very well. It was a light pink color, with a flowy skirt and a short-sleeved top, but it complimented you so well that he wondered why he hadn't seen it on you before. It made you look stunning, in his opinion.

"Thanks," you replied. "You look pretty handsome yourself, Mikey."

Oh, how he loved that nickname. It was one of the few things that Mike loved hearing you call him, even if it was in a joking matter. It made him feel special when he heard it, like you were just so happy to be around him that it was just another way of saying so. He smiled as he pulled out of the driveway, the engine rumbling below his feet. "So, you hungry?"

"Oh, yeah," you said, "I could totally eat."

Mike smiled. "Good ‘cause I found us the most amazing Italian restaurant, and I think you'll love it,"

Mike was right, of course. You did love it. The atmosphere was perfect, and the scenery was divine, with the sun setting in the distance and the colors it created splashed across the sky. Mike had even thought ahead to get a table right next to the window to give you the perfect view. Unfortunately, the sight from the entrance was the only view you got to see.

When it got to the hostess, it turned out that they had accidentally given his reservation to a family with four kids, and you and Mike were now stuck in between a large family with several children and the bathroom. The food had already been ordered and delivered to your table, but you didn't even get a chance to start your meal before you heard the sounds of a crying baby. And when you looked up, you were faced with a crying child who seemed to be a year or so younger than Abby, sitting on the table in front of you.

You tried to ignore it at first, hoping that they would fall asleep and stop crying, but the baby didn't seem to be willing to stop any time soon, and it seemed you weren't the only one who was annoyed by it. You glanced over at Mike and you realized that he looked about one second away from punching the baby and throwing it across the restaurant.

You decided to take action before he could do that.

"How's... uh, work going?" You asked, trying to make conversation as you sat up a little bit straighter and began to wipe your fingers clean, preparing yourself for whatever came next.

Mike didn't answer, instead choosing to grunt.

You decided to try and lighten the mood just a little bit. "It can't be that bad. You're still alive."

Just as the words left your mouth, the baby started crying even louder. You looked over at the family that was sitting in front of you and noticed that none of them looked like they were planning to do anything about it. Great parenting

"That baby might not be," he grumbled, not even bothering to keep his voice down anymore. "Even Abby and her tantrums don't make me want to run into traffic, and they're on a whole other level,"

"A crying child is not going to make you run into traffic, Mike," you replied.

"It might," he argued. "I might."

You laughed, shaking your head at the man sitting in front of you. "Have you always been this dramatic?"

Mike was quiet for a moment before shrugging and letting out a sigh. His annoyance allowed you to take a look at his features for a moment, something you hadn't really done for a while. Usually, when you two hung out, he was always so busy that you didn't really get to notice the difference in expression and stance he would usually have, but now that you were finally able to look at him, you noticed a slight change in him. He looked... tired, you'd say. Tired, but at the same time, happier than he usually was. You couldn't exactly tell how he was feeling at the time, probably complete annoyance because of the crying baby, but he did look like he was smiling just a bit more than usual.

And you loved seeing it. You loved seeing him happy, even if it wasn't the happiest situation that you two could've been in. You still wanted to see his smile, and you couldn't help but smile yourself at how happy he looked when he was around you, even with all the surrounding annoyance.

"Do you remember," you began, "when we first started dating? You were so nervous, and you were scared that you were gonna mess it up, and I said to you that there was no way you could ever do that, right?"

"I mean, it's not like you were lying," he shrugged, leaning back against his chair, picking up a glass of water, and taking a small sip. "I was a mess."

"Well, you still are a mess, a hot one but still... you got over it, didn't you?" You smiled.

Mike paused for a moment, placing his glass down on the table again. He was silent before he glanced up at you. His eyes were wide, and he almost looked... stunned. He was definitely surprised.

"It's not rhetorical, Mikey, but I'm going to take that as a yes," you continued.

"That was... that was different," he said.

"Well, yeah, of course it was," you replied. "That was a few months ago. Now it's a crying baby who you believe is ruining your life,"

He rolled his eyes and sighed, clearly annoyed by the whole thing. You knew that he wasn't actually upset; however, if he were, you'd have felt him shift in his seat like he always did when he felt uncomfortable or uncomfortable. But he hadn't moved a single bit. He wasn't even fidgeting. He just sat there and kept staring at you.

Mike never said anything, though, and neither did you. You just kept staring at each other, even when the baby eventually stopped crying. For a moment, there was peace, a sort of silent bliss that you couldn't exactly explain, and then the peace was suddenly ruined again.

Mike had wanted a refill of his drink, and when the waiter returned with a pitcher and many other drinks from various tables, the serving plate somehow made its way down Mike's shirt and all over his clothes, the various liquids from water to alcohol all splattered on his clothes. And Mike? Mike didn't even flinch. He closed his eyes and sighed, gritting his teeth and tensing up a bit, and you saw that he was clenching the sides of his chair with his hands, but otherwise, he didn't make any other movements, no reaction at all. Then, to make matters worse, the baby started crying again.

Mike and you both stared at each other again, your eyes wide and your mouths slightly parted. You knew exactly how Mike was feeling, and you wanted nothing more than to do something about it, but you didn't know what to do.

"Mike, do you—" you began, feeling really bad for him.

"I need to... go to the bathroom," he interrupted you, and you nodded in response. He stood up from his seat, walked around you and the other family, and then headed towards the bathroom. You were left to sit in your seat, staring at the family in front of you as they ate and chatted amongst themselves. You didn't say anything, but you weren't exactly happy with what was happening, either.

You glanced over to the bathroom door, hoping that Mike would come out of there soon so you could ask him if he was okay, but you were unable to leave. The waiter came back a few minutes later with a towel to help Mike clean off the liquid from his clothes, and once he had it in hand, you found the strength to leave your seat and follow Mike into the bathroom.

You didn't step inside, however, instead choosing to lean against the wall by the entrance. The bathroom was a lot emptier than the restaurant was, and it seemed a lot quieter, too, the only sound that you could hear coming from the faucet by the sinks. You stared at the door for a moment, just a moment, before calling out to the man inside.

"Mike, are you okay in there?"

It took Mike a moment to respond to you. "Uh... Yeah. I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine," you replied.

"Well, I am," he replied. He sounded annoyed.

"You don't sound like it," you commented.

"Well, what do you want me to say?"

You paused for a moment, glancing around the room as you thought of a response. You decided to just tell him what was on your mind. "Do you want to leave? We can go."

You heard the bathroom door open, and Mike stepped out from it, standing in front of you, his eyes staring straight at your own. He was soaked despite all the paper towels he must've used to dry himself off. You handed him the small towel you'd been handed, and he took it from you with a small nod. He ran it through his shirt and thighs for a moment before looking at you.

"You sure?" He asked with a pinch of hesitation in his voice. He looked nervous. No, he didn't look nervous. He looked... guilty. His eyes were sad, and he seemed worried about something. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the right words.

You had a feeling what was going on in his mind, so you just took the lead for him. With a smile, you both returned to your seat momentarily to pay the bill and tip the waiter before making your way out to the parking lot. You climbed into the car, and Mike started the engine. He still had a very noticeable frown on his face as he turned to you.

"It looks like it's going to be a great night," he sighed, letting out a heavy sigh. His eyes shifted upwards to the clouds, and you noticed the very visible storm that was brewing in them. "Sorry. I guess I just... It didn't go the way I thought it would."

"It's still early," you replied, placing your hand over his. He looked back at you with wide eyes, clearly not expecting you to be as calm as you were. You smiled at him, squeezing his hand gently. "And I have the perfect idea of what we could do."

He raised a brow at you, his eyes suddenly looking curious. The frown was gone now and replaced with a small, barely visible smile. You had to resist the urge to hug him right then and there.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"You'll find out when we get there," you whispered and smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. "Just listen to my directions. I'll be your personal navigator."

Your navigator skills were definitely off the charts that night, and even you were surprised you didn't get lost. You made some accidental wrong turns and had to double back once or twice, but other than that, you were able to get you and Mike to your destination just fine. The night sky was still covered with clouds, and there was a very faint sound of thunder in the distance, but you figured you had at least a good hour or so.

The view, though. You couldn't have picked a better spot to have. There was a tree right next to a small, grassy hill that you sat at, the only place where Mike and you could be comfortable while you stared up at the sky. You had Mike's emergency blanket, and he had his hoodie (that might have smelt like utter hell, but he refused to wear anything else after the incident earlier that night), and the stars. It was like the clouds had separated just to show you the beauty of the night sky, and the two of you were lucky enough to witness it. The sun was long gone, and the moon was peeking out from behind the clouds, its bright glow casting a shimmering reflection onto the grass below. It was a moment that you'd never forget.

"How's the date going so far now?" You asked Mike with a smile as you sat next to him. "Think this is an improvement?"

Mike shrugged. "Maybe I should stop planning the dates, and let you plan them from now on."

You smiled at him. "I like it when you plan the dates, Mike."

He frowned for a moment, but the look on his face suggested otherwise. "Really? Because there had been not one good one in the past... I dunno, two years? Even when we were still trying to work out the friendship to the relationship thing."

You shrugged, moving closer to him. "What can I say? I like the surprises, and you never were that spontaneous on your own."

"Is that what you like about me?" He asked. "My non-spontaneity?"

You glanced up at him, smiling as you took in his features again. You loved looking at him. He was handsome. And you loved the look in his eyes. They were filled with adoration, and they were looking straight into yours. He leaned down a bit and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"You have other qualities, too," you replied. “Good ones.”

"Like what?" He asked, his lips ghosting over your skin as he spoke.

"You make a great cup of coffee," you began, letting out a small giggle as he continued to kiss your forehead, moving slowly down towards your jaw. "And you're good at taking care of Abby. You can be funny if you try hard enough, and you're really cute when you smile."

Mike moved down towards your ear, gently nibbling on the lobe. His breath fanned over your skin, and you couldn't help but lean into him just a little. His hand slipped under your chin and gently pulled your head up, forcing your lips to meet with his in a soft kiss.

The first kiss was always special, in Mike's opinion. You were always so soft, so gentle, but also so firm, so loving. It was one of his favorite feelings, and he was so lucky to have you in his life, he couldn't believe it.

When you pulled away from the kiss, you didn't move too far away from him, resting your head against his shoulder instead. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh of contentment, and he leaned his head against yours, his hand resting gently on your knee as you both gazed at the moonlit sky.

"Mikey?" You asked after a moment, your voice soft and gentle as you spoke. You felt his head move in response, and you felt him take in a deep breath.

"Yeah?" He asked.

You looked up at him, smiling as you did. "I think this is our best one yet."

He didn't say anything for a moment. He stared down at you with his usual blank expression, but after a few seconds, the corners of his lips quirked up, and he was finally able to break out into a smile, one that was so much brighter than the one that he had earlier.

He kissed you again, and you couldn't help but melt into the kiss. Your hands went to his shoulders, and his hands wrapped themselves around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. You never wanted to leave his side.

You loss track of time from there. You both were lost in the moment, in the stars, in the blanket, in each other, and before either of you knew it, you felt the slight raindrops pelt against your skin, and the wind was growing stronger. Your hair whipped in front of your face, and smacked Mike in the cheek, but he didn't seem to care much, too caught up in kissing you.

You eventually pulled away, looking at the man in front of you. "We should... we should get going. You brought the umbrella, right?”

“Yeah, it’s right here," Mike nodded, grabbing it from the other end of the blanket and placing it above the two of you as the raindrops grew heavier. The thunder was louder now, but you and Mike were far too engrossed with each other to really notice it.

At least, not until tragedy struck when he went to pull up the blanket. One big strum of thunder and a burst of wind from above caused Mike to lose his grip on the umbrella, which went flying through the air and out of his grasp. You both watched it as it soared in the air, almost like you were in a daze, and then you realized the horrible thing that had happened.

The umbrella was gone. You and Mike were in the rain, and there was nothing around you to provide you any sort of protection from the downpour. The blanket was soaked within seconds, as were the two of you.

Well, technically, Mike already was.

Mike's smile had disappeared from his face when the umbrella had flown away, and now his frown had returned, only this time, it was quite humorous. He was absolutely dumbstruck, and he was just staring at the umbrella as it flew away into the night. You tried to hold back your laughter, but it was difficult, especially with the look on Mike's face.

“Great. Just great," he grumbled, grabbing your arm while making his way back towards the car. "That's just the icing on the cake."

“It’s like we’re in a rom-com," you commented as you followed him, laughing even more. "You're the oblivious man, I'm the funny girl who helps you figure out your feelings. It’s the climax of the movie, we're both drenched, and then we kiss in the rain,"

Mike glared at you, but the look was not genuine. You could tell, and it only made you laugh even more. "Yeah, yeah, let's just get to the car."

The two of you ran towards the car, and Mike jumped inside the driver's seat. You quickly got into the passenger's side before the door shut closed, and you let out a sigh of relief. You took a moment to catch your breath, and then you turned to Mike, a smile playing on your lips.

“Just so you know, those are my favorite type of rom-coms.”

Mike rolled his eyes. "And just so you know, I hate rom-coms."

You leaned over to kiss his cheek, letting out a soft giggle. "Better buckle up then, Romeo. After we find a towel and get home, we're watching the best rom-com of all time."

He rolled his eyes again, but you could tell that the small smile on his lips was genuine this time. "Let's just go before the car floods,"

You smiled, leaning back in your seat. "Sounds good, honey.”

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phoenixyfriend · 13 days ago

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Here's the thing, and I hope I can stop talking about this after I'm done:

I would apologize for the Reddit thing, and I would apologize for overstating the situation as plagiarism. I can't, because there is no line for communication, but I would.

(I'm not going to make this post rebloggable. This isn't me asking for you or Radish to forgive the parts where I fucked up. This is just me explaining that I've realized there's a full-on philosophical disconnect on a key topic here.)

My need to find people praising this fic and let them know why it was taken down was childish and petty. I should not have done that, and I wish I could say that I'm better than that, but I'm not. I was genuinely hurt by what I perceived as an admission of guilt: the choice to hide an entire widely-beloved project over openly addressing the topic. I took it out on the idea of the person that I perceived to have done that, in a place I didn't think they'd see, but hoped would cause them to reconsider their perspective if they did. I'm not going to deny that I vaguely hoped to hurt their credibility for, specifically, the origination of that idea, because I took the post where they simultaneously admitted and discarded it personally. And it was wrong. It was mean and petty, and it was wrong. I would apologize for this.

I'm not bragging about what I did. I just don't want to whitewash my actions. I do not like lying.

I would also apologize for using the word plagiarism in this context, as it is a loaded one. In this day and age, the word carries a lot of weight that implies much more than what I intended.

If anyone who was impacted by this actually sees the post: I apologize.

However... there's a bit of a disconnect on another point.

I do not need to apologize for considering it, at the least, a dick move. And, to myself at least, plagiarist behavior.

I've realized I'm using a stricter definition of plagiarism than most of you, I think. Probably, you are thinking of quotes lifted wholesale, entire chapters stolen.

I'm thinking about The FutureCop court case that stars in the opening of hbomberguy's video on Somerton.

I'm thinking about academic dishonesty, the kind of thing where you feel like maybe you don't really need to add a footnote or reference another text.

I'm thinking about the long and protracted argument we're having across the internet about whether or not it's some kind of theft for someone to ask Gen AI to create art in the style of an artist online.

A few years ago, probably before any of this but I can't find it to link, I read a post about what I'm going to call the lineage of ideas. It was similar to this post, but from what I remember, the topic was either genetic or literary, not botanical. For all I know, it wasn't even a post and I'm just half-remembering a YouTube video. If someone does recognize it, then let me know and I'll link it here.

In this post, the author spoke about how they had been researching something, trying to locate the origin of a certain piece of information. They found a source, and then saw that the information there was from somewhere further back. So they found that source, and found that the information was even further back. So they found that source, something from the 1800s, and found that the 'fact' that had been cited so many times had been overstated as fact. The original had been a theory, or an offhand comment, and then treated as more until people forgot entirely where that information came from.

And decades, even centuries of research, had been based on that fact as cited.

To me, this is important. Being able to find where a theory or concept stems from, that's important. It's why I link and cite one collective AU, two fics, three posts, and a book when sharing a silly AU about Anakin being a dragon. It's why I quote friends by name in posts where I share AUs that I brainstormed with friends. It's why, even when the story I wrote is different as all hell from the post or fic that first sparked the idea, I namecheck it in the A/N.

That's part of why I've spent half an hour trying to find one specific post about how sourcing properly can help you find the origin point of misinformation, and am still mad I failed.

EDIT: still haven't found the post, but this video that @penpalpixie linked is exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about. Footnotes!

One of my core memories about cosplay were that whenever someone complimented my outfit, I would say, 'thanks! [friend] made it!' and the friend would then tell me that it was weird to do that, and made them feel like I wasn't actually enjoying the outfit.

That was... god, ten years ago. And even then, I was dedicated to making sure people didn't give me credit for things I didn't do, and hoping they would give me credit for things I actually did.

There are certain series, in fandom, that become so popular that they are used as basis for other fics. Double Agent Vader (fialleril) gave us a system of Tatooine Slave Culture that is almost omnipresent. Soft Wars (Project0506) has inspired lots of people to do fic set in the same universe. Integration Verse (Millberry_5) has inspired dozens of spin-off fics.

You know how sometimes, we talk about how we don't know where fanon came from and wish we did? How we chat about something Yan Dooku, and how it's not canon, and how it took us years to find an answer?

Can you imagine the rush that must come with finding out people love your idea so much they spent so much time wondering about it?

To me, that's what attribution is for. You want to find where the ideas and concepts come from. You want to know how stories and ideas and themes and trends change over time. You look at fandom and go 'huh, I wonder when this shift in shipping happened? I wonder why?'

And if things are cited, maybe you can find out why that one rarepair suddenly exploded in popularity, or that one style of AU is really in vogue but only since August 2024 or something.

The 25k words are so much that you clearly put the effort in, but let us know where the idea came from. You have the link. You told me to my metaphorical face. It's such a strange choice to be mad that someone ask you take the link, which you already have and already associated with the fic, and then put it. On the fic.

If the main inspiration was something else, why not just say that?

I think there's a lot to be said for the kind of hurt where someone makes something based on you, even a little bit, that you then don't get cited for.

I think there's a lot more to be said for someone telling you that you were an inspiration, even linking the exact post, and then making it clear that they don't consider you worth acknowledgement.

Like imagine your friend was setting up a birthday party for their SO, and you suggested a theme a few hours after you saw their text, and they went and did the theme! And it worked great! Their partner loved it! And then the next time you all hang out, you ask your friend, 'hey, did you get that theme from me, or like a tiktok or something?' because maybe they picked a theme before you got around to answering, but they confirm that they did get it from you. They quote the text you sent word for word, even.

And you're happy because you feel like you did something cool and then you mention later in the conversation, in front of your friend's partner, that you're happy they enjoyed the theme, and glad you could contribute to a great day. You didn't do much, all the money and effort was the friend, but yay! You helped!

And someone asks for clarification so you say, "oh yeah, I suggested it."

And your friend says, "no you didn't, that theme is everywhere. I got it from an online article."

And like... if that's true, why didn't you say so?

Why did you tell me I helped inspire you, and then get mad when I brought it up and wanted that tiny bit of credit?

Again, I'm not making this rebloggable. It's very self-pitying and I'm sure my frustration is obvious, but my first Big post about this topic was just timeline and links/screenshots. This one... this one is about the disconnect between what I view as the inherent value and importance of attribution, driven by decades of school pushing me to cite things in detail (like yeah, you have so many resources telling you Queen Elizabeth II's birthday, it's common knowledge, but Wikipedia still makes you cite The London Gazette), and what other people view as fair game in fandom.

So yeah. Hopefully you understand me a bit more now.

#personal #vent post #the lineage of ideas #I don't think I need to apologize for using friends as proxies for my own anxious questions. It wasn't a harassment campaign #it was a total of three people over a year #because I was hoping it would be less weird and awkward then doing it myself. Not everyone's cup of tea #but not worthy of an apology.

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prettytoxicrevolver · 1 year ago

Text

Jealous of Joe | Juraj Slafkovský

wc. 1.9k

Juraj's jealous when he sees you with another certain athlete

(sorry for the bad google translate throughout)

You jog down the steps of Nationwide Arena until you're face to face with a wall of glass blocking you from the players on the ice. Your eyes roam the red and white jerseys, finding purchase when they land on the familiar number 20. You look over his figure, studying the way he skates down the ice with ease. He looks like he’s floating, stick down, looking for the puck, focused, perfect.

You and Juraj Slafkovský have been friends since the minute he was drafted by the Montreal Canadiens. As one of many social media managers, you became best friends with the whole team, finding safe spaces in Cole, Nick, Kirby, Kaiden, Monty, and most importantly, Juraj.

The first thing you ever bonded over was your mutual knowledge of the Finnish language. The two of you could converse for hours in Finnish and not even realize until another one of the boys finally gains the courage to ask about what you two have been saying. They even tried to use it to their advantage, asking if you understood what he would say in Slovak but you were no use in that department.

You try to snap yourself out of the trance you were in, looking around the rink to see what kind of media you could create before the game. You’re in the middle of thinking up a new question or tiktok challenge when you feel a presence next to you.

“They look good,” the stranger says from next to you and you don’t look over as you respond, somewhat hoping the person leaves.

“Hopefully they keep it up during the game tonight,” you respond, knowing the Hab's tendency for third period strikeouts.

“You think Caufield will score?” the boy next to you asks and you shrug.

“It’ll make my job easier if he does,” you joke and the laugh that sounds from next to you is so melodic it has curiosity leading you to turn your head.

To say you’re shocked by the man standing next to you is an understatement. After working in this league it takes a lot for you to get star struck by an athlete but you’re speechless, jaw dropped open looking at Joe Burrow standing next to you.

“Holy shit,” you blurt out and the older boy turns to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’m Joe,” he says, holding a hand out for you to shake and you can’t help the shiver that runs down your back when his hand slides perfectly into yours.

“(y/n),” you say, still not quite sure that you’re not totally dreaming. “No offense, but what are you doing here?”

His laugh has you smiling right along with him and you find yourself wanting to hear more of it.

“I’ve been meaning to come out and see a game for a while, meet the players and so on. I figured since I’m injured,” he takes the moment to lift up a carefully wrapped wrist in front of your eyes. “I would come and check it out.”

“Well if you’re expecting your fellow Ohioans to win, I apologize in advance,” you say and Joe throws his head back in laughter.

“Oh really?”

The two of you continue talking, trading jokes and reveling in each other's laughter. You were beyond enjoying the conversation with Joe and you almost forgot about the ongoing practice and job you should be doing.

Juraj certainly didn’t forget. During practice, a game, in the arena, out of the arena, no matter what Juraj always has an eye on you. The minute you stepped up to the glass during his practice his eye was on you, watching what you were doing, but more importantly, who you ended up talking to. Juraj’s furious and jealous gaze roams your figure, hating the way your head is thrown back in laughter, pink rising to your cheeks at his words, the slight, shy movements he knew all too well.

At some point his brain must have shut off because suddenly his body is barreling down the ice without a second thought. You’re mid sentence to Joe when a loud bang sounds in front of you and you both jump back in fear. You look up to see Juraj standing there, a sheepish smile on his lips but something different in his eyes. You shoot him a look that conveys the sentence “are you serious right now???” and Juraj waves awkwardly before backing off and skating away.

“Your boyfriend?” Joe asks and you jump at his voice, forgetting he was there for a moment.

“No, no,” you say, glancing at him before reverting back to following Juraj’s movements. “Just friends.”

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I asked you out then?” Joe asks and your body fully turns towards him at the question.

“I can pick you up before the game tonight? I have an empty seat next to me,” he offers and you grin.

“I’d love to.”

Juraj spends the rest of practice pissed and all the boys can tell. They’re even playing a game, seeing who can mess with him the most before he truly snaps.

Nick takes pity on him, the captain skating over to the young player. He follows Juraj’s gaze to where you are and watches as his eyes flame in anger when you smile at Joe.

“What's up?” Nick asks, vague enough that Juraj can tell him what’s actually going on or he can brush it off.

“He can fight?” Juraj asks and Nick fully turns to him in shock.

“What?”

“I’m gonna fight him if he goes out with her,” Juraj says, determination so deep in his eyes that Nick knows he’s not a force to be reckoned with.

Normally, before games you’re nervous for other reasons. Making sure you have enough content, tweets are loaded and ready to go, photos are edited and stats are ready to be posted. This time, your coworker is taking on those nerves while yours belong to the date you were about to go on.

You looked over your outfit for what feels like the millionth time and smooth out the canadiens jersey that falls over your body. You were showing up with Joe but still had Juraj’s last name on your back; the irony. Joe knocks on your hotel room door right at 7 and you let out a breath before making your way to the front door.

You were no stranger to Joe’s pregame outfits but you were shocked out how he could still look so incredibly good even in a simple t-shirt and jeans. His smile is blinding and while you know you should be swooning at the sight, you can only think about Juraj’s crooked smile, the way he looks down, not wanting anyone else to see the beauty.

You and Joe head to the arena, a short drive in his luxury car and he’s nothing but a gentleman the entire time. Your heart flutters from time to time but you’re not sure if it’s because of Joe, or because you're nervous to see Juraj.

You two take your time getting to your seats, stopping to grab drinks before heading down as the players are finishing warm ups. Juraj thinks he’s safe, that he won’t have to control a temper for the rest of the game but it all falls flat when he sees Joe with an arm slung around your shoulders in the front row.

“Leave it be,” Nick warns the younger player and he shakes his head, praying his focus turns towards the game.

The game against the blue jackets is physical, to say the least. The boys are playing like it’s a revenge tour and the game is tied for most of the time. Third period begins and Juraj is firing on all cylinders at this point. He’s finishing his checks, he’s rushing down the ice, he’s doing anything and everything to forget about you and Joe.

You watch as Juraj digs for the puck, a battle between him and one of the blue jackets players trying to gain possession of the puck. It sails down towards Nick and Juraj lets up, words clearly exchanged between him and the opposer.

“Careful before I take your girl out next,” the player sneers at Juraj and he’s officially seeing red.

You watch in slight horror as Juraj slams the player into the boards and fists go flying. The fight must last a quick 20 seconds but feels like a lifetime. You’re on your feet and pressed against the glass as Juraj gets up, a fresh cut on his cheekbone and his hair disheveled and hanging over his now dark eyes.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, watching as Juraj is escorted down the tunnel and some of the boys are casting glances in your direction.

“(y/n)?” you’re snapped out of your trance at Joe’s voice and turn to find him with worry and understanding in his gaze.

“I have to go check on him,” you say and Joe nods.

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek that explains all of his thoughts and feelings. You smile, a bit of sadness laced in the look, before parting and heading straight for the locker room.

You race down, surprisingly not getting lost as you run and you flash your access badge like your life depends on it. You finally come face to face with the locker room door and you take a deep breath before flinging it open, unable to stay away from Juraj any longer.

“Kto si, do pekla, myslí, že je? Sedí tam s ním a užíva si každú sekundu!! A ten sráč, ktorý-” Your brain flies a million miles an hour trying desperately to grasp the little Slovak language you know but to no avail.

“Juraj?” you call and the 6 foot 2 hockey player halts all movements before turning towards you.

“What are you doing here?” he grinds out, chest heaving trying to catch his breath.

“I wanted to check on you.”

“jebať ma,” he mutters angrily. “Go back to your new boyfriend.”

Juraj was torn clean in half between two sides. One desperately wanting you here, wanting you to stay and talk to him, to explain that Joe meant nothing to you. The other half of him is infuriated, feeling disrespected that you would show up now after flaunting Joe in front of him.

“What the fuck is your issue?” you snap, taking several steps till you're inches from Juraj’s face.

“Ježiš Kristus.”

That’s the last thing you hear before Juraj leans down and slams his lips against yours, the kiss lighting you end to end in a fiery passion. His hands wrap around your waist and pull you up onto your tip toes and press your chest against his padded one. Your body takes a minute to catch up and when you do, your hands tangle deep into Juraj’s damp strands pulling him close and begging him to never let go.

Unfortunately, humans need air and the two of you separate, panting heavily for a moment after. You fall back onto your heels and Juraj’s eyes search yours for a moment before speaking again.

“You’re my issue,” he says and before you can retort he shushes you. “I love you. You walked into my game with my name on your back but your hand holding his.”

Your eyes stare deep into his, your heart cracking at the idea that Juraj could ever be hurt by your actions. However, it’s filled back up when you remember him admitting that he loves you.

“Oh minun rakkauteni,” you murmur, pulling him into you again and reveling in the feeling of his lips on yours.

“It’s you baby. It always has been and it always will be,” you promise.

Juraj grins against you, the moment fleeting but lasting forever.

#prettytoxicrevolver fic #juraj slafkovsky fanfic #juraj slafkovsky imagine #juraj slafkovsky blurb #juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovsky fic #montreal canadiens fic #montreal canadiens x reader #montreal canadiens imagine

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omega-e123 · 11 months ago

Text

Shadow’s prequel here. Aftermath here

You’ve been actively avoiding him for weeks on end. Not because he’s done anything wrong, no! Lately it felt as though his voice has gotten a lot softer. The physical distance between you has gotten closer and his eyes gaze at you differently. A sort new kind of fondness, you imagine. Chaos, his eyes… The image of Shadow flashes in your mind, causing your heart to beat faster than Sonic on his way to his favorite Chilidog stand.

The friendship that you and Shadow have built over the past few years is too precious for you to mess up over some silly “crush.” Is it still considered a crush if you’ve liked the guy for a long time? Ugh, it doesn’t matter. No way that hedgehog would develop those sort of feelings.

Groaning, your head falls atop the cafe table. The empty cup clattering against its saucer. Well whether or not you would admit to him, the distance you forced between each other has strained the relationship. Absentmindedly, the coffee spoon clanks against the cups insides.

A tap on your shoulder breaks you out of your thoughts, nearly flinging the spoon into the street. Spinning around, a certain hedgehog stands awkwardly holding a bouquet of flowers. In a panic, you hurry out of your seat to stand face to face.

“Shadow! Hey, fancy seeing you here!,” you nervously greet. “Is everything alright? What are the flowers for?”

Fuckshitfuck— No where to run, no where to hide. Actually, what are the chances he’d just let you book it to the next dimension?

His intense stare is more than enough to send anyone straight to the floor cowering. Shadow looks down at the bouquet and then back to you before shoving them into your arms. “They’re for you.”

With a blank face, you say nothing and hold his gaze. Heat growing on your cheeks. You cant help but tilt your head and quietly repeat back, “for me?”

“That is what I said,” Shadow sighs, “Listen. I don’t know what I did to make you upset, but if you could just talk to me… It’s unsettling”

Your ears droop, hearing the reason. Ah, of course they wouldn’t be a romantic gesture. What were you thinking, getting your hopes up like that? Apology flowers. Eye contact breaks as your attention finds its way to the ground.

“No, you didn’t do anything. It’s okay, but thank you,” you manage out.

The hedgehog refuses to let you go without an answer. Worry laced in his words, “Then what’s with that look? Why do you look… disappointed? What’s wrong? Why the hell have you been ignoring my messages and avoiding me?”

Lips pressed into a thin line, you debate on how to answer him. It’s a struggle to breathe. “I’m not,” you begin to lie.

Shadow cuts you off with, “Please.”

It felt as if your brain blue-screened. Did the ultimate life form beg you just now?

“Look at me,” he asks, one hand holding your arm, the other resting under your chin. Slowly he lifts it up in order to get a better look at you. The touch so gentle, it was as though Shadow was convinced you’d break into a million pieces.

Ruby red eyes scan your features, searching for an answer. You notice his ears are slightly drooped forward. The poor guy looks like a kicked puppy.. Were you two always standing this close together? You try to find the words to say to him; however, you keep drawing blanks. It’s hard to believe someone like Shadow would be so worried over you. That’s how anyone could tell his actions are genuine. Something pulls you to lean up on your tippy toes and carefully inch towards him. Shadow tenses wondering what on Gaia’s green planet are you doing. Supple lips meld into the other. Your eyes close after the initial contact. A simple chaste kiss planted upon Shadow’s. He makes no effort to pull away, instead he’s relishing the moment.

Until you part from him, you both realize what had happened. His quills prickle up. Letting go of you, his hand comes up to hide the blush immediately creeping on his face . Shadow teleports away, leaving you dumbfounded.

«___° ° °___»

#I don’t know what this is #shadow the hedgehog #sth #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader #this was not proofread at all

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aritsukemo · 7 months ago

Note

HELLOOOOOO IT’S MEEEEEEEE

GENSHIN REQ FOR KAZUHA WITH A READER WHO’S SICK & THEY’RE CHILDHOOD BESTIES <33

THANKUTHANKUTHANKU IF U DO THIS I JS FNSKDNNDKSKSNDKSKSKDKSKX

LOVE UR WORKS BTW <333333‼️🥰💕💞

Sickly Hallucinations | Kaedehara Kazuha

Kazuha Kaedehara x Sick reader ( @nursedflowers / @kazusys )

Summary: After being bedridden for days, it seems that you have started to hallucinate the worse thing possible; your dead best friend.

Warnings: Reader is sick, and because of that, snot is mentioned in a sorta detailed way. Abstract descriptions ahead ( I don't know why I describe the simplest things the way I did.. ) Reader is also avid on believing they're hallucinating seeing and hearing Kazuha. ( Spoiler Alert, they're not ) A lot of crying and reader breakdown more than once, but there's a happy ending I swear! With all that said, you have been warned! <3

A/N: HERE IT IS NURSED, AFTER WAY TOO LONG OF MAKING YOU WAIT!! 😖 I'm sorry if this is not up to par. I had an idea going into this but completely lost it by the end so I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense or the ending seems suddenly or anything! I truly didn't mean for it to end up that way!

"This is so stupid!" A frustrated cry sounded throughout the bare room, bouncing off the walls—the metal swords on the wall in particular—and resonating throughout the ear canal's of a certain platinum blonde who was, partially, the reason for such anger.

"You almost had me there at the end. You truly are skilled with the blade, Y/n," He complimented politely. If anyone else was in the situation with the future leader of the prestigious Kaedehara Clan helping them up and blowing sweet words in their ear, they'd probably swoon, even with the rumors of their deteriorating fortune making one believe that his flowery words were for mere show. Even if it was true, none of that mattered to you. In fact, in the face of such petal-soft kindness, your blood boil over like a raging inferno.

But despite that, all you could muster to do to that soft face dressed in a gentle smile was a gruff at it and mumble, "Shush," to which your kind friend spared you the courtesy of giggling in your face and instead silently complied to your wish...only to immediately go against that wish seconds later.

"I mean it, truly. If it were a situation where you and I were fighting for real as enemies, for example, and stood forth one another wielding our blades for the sake of our own ideals, you surely would've bested me."

You found yourself frowning at his statement. Enemies? The thought immediately stained it's ink on your heart and made it clench from the poison. If something so obscene were to occur in some hell-filled alternate reality, you doubt you'd be able to lift your sword in his direction or even stare him in the eyes with hues darkened by hate. Not Kazuha. Not your dear friend who seemed to be the only one willing to befriend someone such as yourself—who's family was feared all across Inazuma due to built up rumors and fabrications people have thought up over the millennia.

..But you couldn't say that to him. Especially not after a defeat so embarrassing that your parents surely would turn their noses away from disappointment at your meek swordsmanship.

And so, you decided to play nonchalance and roll your eyes, mumbling out an uncaring, "Whatever.. As if that'd seriously happen."

"And what if it did?" He egged on as innocently as a little kid asking their parents how they were created. You found your mouth moving before your mind could process and filter your words, causing this aggressive affirmation to leave your throat.

"It wouldn't. I'd never let that happen."

"You can't control fate, Y/n. If me and you parted to walk different paths—" And you cut him off—something you've never once done to him before.

"It wouldn't happen! I'd strike down the Shogun myself before I'd even think of raising my sword to you for anything other than a friendly display of our swordwork!" And you pause, your face growing wide at the surprise of your own words. Kazuha's face seems to mirror yours, albeit he still managed to keep his expression civil and appropriate even when it started turning into a cherry blossom tree.

"..I feel the same way," He confesses sheepishly before his smile returns and he brings his finger to his lips and spoke in a lowered tone, "But, lets keep that amongst ourselves. 'Wouldn't want our parents carrying our words away, now would we?"

And to spare the little dignity you had remaining, you turn your face away—which was burning to the point of tingling—and nod your head.

"Ye- Yeah..whatever."

A gruff, nasally hack resonates from the depth of your chest, shooting itself up your congested throat and forcing itself outwards which caused a bit of that congestion to splatter into the tissue you had curled into your hands. As you came up for air, you glanced down only to immediately revert your gaze away from the snotty liquid—which was definitely not the color it was suppose to be—that had now coated the once clean tissue out of fear of throwing up the little bit of lunch the Traveler insisted you eat.

It had happened yet again. This counts the..what? Seventh, maybe ninth time you've daydreamed about the dead since you fell bedridden? It raises the question of why? Why is it that you're thinking about him now of all times? Why were these memories only now flooding your mind years after his death? Deep down, you knew the answers but chose—no, refused to acknowledge them. You've done that a lot since the day you found out he died. Maybe that's why this is happening at a random time such as this. Maybe it's simply because your mind and body has been weakened by this devilish illness.

Whatever it was, you hated it, and even more so you utterly despised your mind for bring him up after so many years just to make you suffer even more than you already are. You despised it for making you remember his face in such vivid detail. His laugh, his smile, his gorgeous rubies for eyes—all of it.

But, unfortunately, hating something doesn't make it go away. No matter how upset you get, your mind still makes it's way back to the cool touch of his hand caressing yours as he'd direct you on hard-to-master sword maneuvers. It went back to the peaceful warmth his hugs would bless you with whenever you snuck into his room during one of your sleepovers to cuddle after a nightmare you had.

It was all so stupid, you thought. More so now that it seems that your daydreams have turned into full blown hallucinations.

"You look worse for wear, my dear friend," His soothing voice, deepened from maturity, echoed in your ears. You closed your eyes and laid back down. If you didn't amuse it, the illusion would surely grow bored and go away.

Even with the plan in mind, it was difficult to follow through with your words. Upon hearing the familiar tune of his warm chuckle, you find yourself biting your lip. Even after so many years, it still sounds the same. It still holds that sense of tranquility that has brought you peace many times in your childhood.

..But you suppose the reason as to why makes sense. After all, many hallucinations are stemmed from the hallucinator's memories. Of course it'd sound the same as you'd remember it'd be.

"I'm sorry, did that upset you? Please believe me when I say I had no ill will behind my comment, dear. You still look as radiant as you did when we were kids."

Your lip is starting to bleed from how hard your digging your teeth into the supple skin. It stings, but the pain doesn't stop you from doing it. You can't stop. You need to distract yourself and not think about anything pertaining to him. That's the only way this delusion will—

You suck in a breath. One sharp, airy, and shaky and caused by the startling feeling of snowflakes falling upon your exposed skin. Though you pretended to not notice it, you found yourself shocked by the feeling of his fingertips freezing your once burning skin over just as it did when you were younger.

..But how was it possible? Hallucinations shouldn't feel so real, right?

"Y/n, can you look at me? I wish to cherish the sight of your face after being stripped of it for so long," The request came as a tender plea and you found your body conflicted upon hearing it. Part of you wanted so desperately to indulge in your delusions—to let it sweep you away and never bring you back—and yet the more reasonable part of you was screaming at you to do everything and anything but but listen. Your mind was at a bloody, cold war with itself and it thrashed your body every which way until it reacted by setting everything ablaze.

The heat shot up your body and in a desperate attempt to quell the uncomfortable feeling, you curled into yourself—curled away from the cooling touch—until your knees hit your chest. Your effort was quickly proven to be futile as the flames continued it's assault on your organs—your skin—where it went about scorching away every last drop of air in your lungs before finally reaching your face. It heated the already warm blood in your veins, causing them to singe your poor flesh. It soon became an unbearable wildfire that your mind couldn't put out no matter how much it drowned the flames in watered down thoughts—not cooling no matter how many tears were shed.

"Don't cry.." You felt it again. Against your will, you felt those snowy fingertips cool the firestorm that was running wild under your skin for just a moment as they wiped at your now wet face. Even worse when it's accompanied by warm words in your ear that told you, "You don't have to cry. Not anymore. I'm here.."

And in a moment of vulnerability, you unconsciously indulged in your delusions and began to scream, "No you're not!"

You suck in a sharp breath—and thick snot in the process—as you shakily repeat in a quieter tone, "No you're not.. You're dead. ..Kazuha is dead!"

"Kazuha is..what?"

Your dumbstruck utterance echoed through the ears of everyone at the table—that of which included your father, who's face only further sullened upon hearing it.

"Kazuha is..dead," He repeated, although it sounded as if he was forcing himself to. As if he couldn't believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

"He was trailed all throughout the city by samurai after his confrontation with the shogunate. When they finally cornered him, he drew his blade. I heard the battle was a hard one fought..but he..—"

"You're lying," You muttered.

"I'm not," Your father retorts before pausing and sucking in a breath, "Look, Y/n. I know that this is hard for you to accept deeming how close you two were, but—"

"You're lying," You repeat, this time much louder. As if your words had been turned up by a speaker, "..You're lying," You repeat. Shaking your head roughly to the point where your hair slips from behind your ears and falls messily down and around your face as a result. It was a silly thought, but it was as if your hair were trying to spare your pride, your dignity, by shielding your face from the onlookers that so happy to be your close family.

"Y/n, please.." Your mother stands to her feet, perfectly poised even at times like this, as she strides across the room and up to you. The haori and tail end of her kimono flows elegantly in her wake, making her look like some goddess walking along the sun—not that you cared to bear witness to any of that.

Her soft, smooth fingers—never once laid hands to a sword—slide along one shoulder to the edge of the other where she then pulls you close to her chest. She was even kind enough to rub circles into your back for a moment before whispering, "Don't do this.. Not here."

Her words were paper thin which quickly tore soon after she began speaking, proof that she was desperately trying to keep her own emotions in check herself..

But her shaky composure didn't register to you nor did her sincere words or genuine sadness. Your ear took in what she had said and your brain tore it apart and gave it an entirely new tone and overall meaning. One that was rather insincere in the face of your obviously grieving state. One that made it seem as if she didn't care for the news. Or rather, she cared more about saving face than anything else and that angered—no, infuriated you. Like a furnace with too much wood inside of it, a fire roared inside you and soon made your body unbearable hot.

Before you knew what you were doing, you had pushed your mother away with all your strength.

"Shut up! You don't get to tell me how to act in a time like this!" Your father and uncle immediately shot up. Racing over from where they once sat to your mother on the ground and helping her up like the damsel she was. Your father then turned to you, his eyes filling with his own fiery fury.

"Y/n! Control yourself! How you're acting right now is unfit of our name!" He commanded, and his words hit you like a ton of bricks to the face.

You just couldn't wrap your head around any of it. How your family stared on at you in shock as if you had just committed some heinous crime. How none of them had so much as a frown or a tear rolling down their cheek. How they're fussing at you as if your entire world didn't just fall apart over a few simple words.

You couldn't grasp how they managed to stay so composed when the world was beginning to turn grey before your eyes. You didn't understand it and that's what overwhelmed you more than anything else. It was all too much to handle. You felt like you had just been letting go to be swept away by a sea of flames. You couldn't decide whether you wanted to scream or sob. You couldn't decide on anything in that moment, in fact.

And so, you acted on the first thing your body could muster to accomplish and that was to run. Shooting up from your seat, you turned and bolted out of the room, ignoring your father screaming for you to come back..

Silence seeps into the room once again, chasing after the ghost of your echo until it took over the entire room once again. You waited, listening as best you can with your own thundering snivels drowning your ears like a river that was once blocked by a dam...but you heard nothing. You found yourself letting out a shaking sigh of relief as you realize that it was finally over. It seemed that the hallucination was finally gone.

Or so you thought.

"..Is that what you've been believing all this time?" That sigh of relief is immediately sucked back in through your stuffed nose. Along with the warm breaths against your ear, his icy touch returns, and this time, it had been lowered down to your waist.

You feel icicles dig into your flesh just hard enough that you're unable to remove them—which you suppose that, to the typical person, his grip would be near bone-crushing.

But again, it makes sense. It makes sense that he knows that you've gotten stronger over the years. It makes sense how he knows exactly how tightly to grab you without going to far and causing his touch to hurt. It makes sense because he isn't actually here. This is all in your head. Just your imagination..

It's just your imagination. It's just your imagination. It's just your imagination. It's just—

"I was trying to avoid this, but since I now know what taints your thoughts and prevents you from welcoming me into your arms with stride, I have no other choice.. Please, forgive my roughness this once."

Another gasp leaves you—a painful one that sliced through the depths of your achy, red, irritated throat in order to get out—as you're suddenly flipped on your back and pinned before you can fight back. Not knowing what else to do, your nails come up to desperately dig into the icebergs that envelope and cool your fiery cheeks.

"Y/n," He sings your name just as he did when you two were kids. It only makes the fire grow inside you, and ultimately, cause the dam inside you to burn over and allow water to seep through the gap made all over again.

The flurry of sadness is overwhelming, almost as overwhelming as how you felt when you first heard the news of his sudden and untimely death. That said, you were completely overwhelmed and found yourself begging, pleading with your hallucination, saying, "Stop.. Please go away.. He's gone. I've accepted that a long, long time ago so please—!"

"Y/n," Despite feeling as though you were falling, spinning, tumbling in the air, his voice easily made your landing feel soft and relieving, like pushing out a much needed breath you didn't know you were holding in, "Open your eyes and all will be made clear. You'll be at peace that way."

"No! I'm not going to! You can't make me!"

You refuse to let your mind trick you. You're not letting all that effort—all that work you put into building that dam over and over again—be for nothing!

You aren't opening your eyes. You can't..because if you do and he's not there, this fire inside you will turn into something untamable and the dam will crumble and never be able to be built again. Your mind would be a complete disaster that you wouldn't be able to reconstruct for at least a century or two.

After a while, you hear him sigh but you quickly force it out through one ear. Unfortunately as soon as you do that, his voice is shoved into your other ear once again.

"So stubborn.." His voice was vibrated by the chuckle that was weaved into it. It sounded so inviting, so addictive, but—against your subconscious will—you threw it out of your head as more of his florid words soon came to replace the ones lost, "It seems you truly haven't changed..mentally anyways."

The icebergs on your skin were, at last, removed from your face, but you were given little time to relish in your relief before you felt a weight lift off your body, your bedside dip, and those icy fingers make contact with your sensitive scalp.

"Having you in my arms like this brings me back," He said softly, "I remember...it would almost always rain whenever I visited your home and despite how often it happen, you'd always be petrified of the sounds the rain produced," You feel his fingers glide through your hair, separating the strands with his fingers with ease as he continued.

"After everyone went to sleep, you would always sneak into the guest room where I resided and I'd end up holding you just like this until you fell asleep," He then chuckles, and in doing so, puffs his breath against the shell of your ear, "Your parents would always get so upset about it, but that never stopped you from doing it. Nothing ever stopped you from doing as you pleased..so why allow your own fear to do so now?"

"Shut up—!" "You were the bravest person to me when we were kids, Y/n," He confessed, cutting you off, "You were just like your swordsmanship; no matter what you were taught otherwise, your blade always followed the same technique you created for yourself. It never changed, no matter the opponent or obstacle it faced."

"Shut up!" You yelled, yet it came out more of loud croak due to how hoarse your throat was at that point. You were like a scared little kid under the covers all over again. The only difference now was that it was harder to hide, at least in this moment with the ghost of your dead friend cuddling your backside and whispering nostalgia into your ears.

"You were strong. And you still are, I can tell even after all these years apart from you," He said, "So please, show me that bravery once again. Take the last step and look at me. Please.."

You don't know what happened. You had been so hellbent on doing the opposite of what he asked for this entire time only to obey at the last moment because of a slight tremor in his tone. You had been persuaded into obedience by a slight crack in his voice. A mere whimper. You had threw caution to the wind—at the risk of your mental and physical health—simply because of a past urge to comfort your best friend in his rare moment of weakness.

Your eyes twitched before your mind could process what you were doing. Eyes once sealed tightly by your tears—which were serving as your last line of defense at this point and your last chance to rethink this, flip back over, and continue to ignore the voice in your ear until sunrise—crack open, allowing the light of your to seep into your vision of who know how long of not being able to.

And when it finally happened, when you finally opened your eyes and were able to see the light again, you were reduced to hysteric sobs. It wasn't because you had been proven right though. It was even worse, you had been proven wrong. Kazuha laid right beside you alive and in the flesh. He looked just as he did all those years ago and you just couldn't bear the sight without breaking down.

At least now you can properly relish in the feeling of his touch—in the feeling of his arms caging around you—without feeling as though you were deluding yourself.

"You..dumb idiot.." You sniffled out as his grip on you tightened, "You big..dumb moron.. You had me thinking for so long.. I grieved over you..for so, so long.. I-"

"Shh, shh.." He shushed, his lips now tickling your forehead with his cool breath and fluttery words as he mumbles into your skin, "I'm sorry, my dear. I never meant to cause you such pain. Never. If I had the choice, I would've found you a long time ago.."

He mumbled other things as well, but you honestly could care less what he had to say at this point. Not even if he professed a hidden motive to end your life. You couldn't bring yourself to care about anything, not when you've finally been able to prove that dreadful thought you pushed in the very depths of your mind wrong. Not when such a heavy weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Not when the warmth that surrounds you has finally been confirmed to be from the one you had longed to see, feel, and reminisce with for literal ages.

The only thing you were listening to, at this point, was the thoughts telling you to stay like this in his arms and let his voice serenade you for an eternity.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

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laxmiree · 9 months ago

Text

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Fragment Date - English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

[Warning]: The content of this date is pretty explicit and may not be suitable for individuals under the age of 17 (CN server). It is recommended that those who do not meet this age requirement refrain from proceeding beyond this point.

He traces a trail of delicate nibbles along my neck, kissing the path where life itself flows.

I feel those affectionate yet slightly demanding marks being etched again and again. For some reason, I find myself speaking without thinking.

"Bite me, Lucien."

Translation under the cut!

[T/N: This date references some dates in the past; like his Prison Date, Monochrome Scenery Exclusive Past and its Event Story, “Lab Koi” call, his Last year’s Birthday Story, and The Sea No Longer Distant MQ. Since this date has a lot of callback, I think it’d be better if you read those dates, events, and phone calls first if you haven’t :>; or at least the MQ and birthday story one because this date is also some kind of extension to those]

[Subbed Video]

youtube

[Transcript Ver]

=[Part 1]=

I wake up to the faint whirring of the fan and the subtle scent of a fruity fragrance lingering in the air. I turn over in bed, slowly blinking my eyes open.

The brilliant sunlight filters through the lace curtains, casting iridescent patches of light that dance playfully across Lucien's body.

He sits in a rattan chair by the window, flipping through a book in his hand. An exquisite purple clay tea set rests on a side table nearby.

For a fleeting, dreamlike moment, I feel like I've traveled back to the 1970s.

As if sensing my gaze, Lucien turns his head, and a hint of a smile appears in his eyes as he looks at me.

Lucien: It seems a certain lady hasn't adjusted to the time difference yet.

Lucien: It is now noon in U.S. time.

My foggy brain finally starts to turn sluggishly. I leave the bed, drag a chair over to sit beside him and yawn again.

MC: It can't be helped. It's already the wee hours in Loveland City.

Lucien: [teasingly] Oh? But as I recall, a certain night owl sometimes doesn't go to bed obediently even at those hours.

MC: [pouts] ....Hmph, you're one to talk, Mr. I-Don't-Need-Sleep!*

[T/N: MC actually calls him 进化了睡眠的人 here, which literally means “evolved sleep people”, it might be referring to him seemingly have evolved beyond the need of sleep😂]

Lucien: I've been quite well-behaved lately, haven't I? And when it comes to sleep duration, well, let's just say you're the ‘expert’.

Lucien blinks at me innocently, and I quickly take a sip of the tea he offers, hoping he won’t delve deeper into this topic.

A sweet and sour sensation blooms in my mouth. Perhaps there are other unknown herbs added, as I also detect a hint of honeyed sweetness.

✂———————–

=Flashback start=

Ten hours ago, in the dim and quiet cabin, the only sound was the occasional soft tapping of a keyboard from the seat next to me.

I lifted a corner of my eye mask and leaned closer.

MC: It's time for sleep, Professor Lucien. Didn't you say the seminar doesn't start until next week? We arrived three days early.

Lucien: That's true, but I don't plan to use this time for conference preparations.

Lucien: After all, a certain classmate expressed a desire to take this opportunity to visit my lab from my master's and Ph.D. days. I want to dedicate my time fully to you without any interruptions from other matters.

Beyond his words, I sensed other emotions in his earnest tone.

MC: [curiously] Is our Professor Lucien nervous because I'm going to visit the places where you once studied and lived?

Lucien: Yes.

He admitted it frankly, his eyes lit up as he looked at me.

Lucien: That place is very important to me.

Lucien: This feeling is like... inviting you to step into a chapter of my past.

Lucien: It should be a proper occasion, something worth your anticipation.

=Flashback end=

✂———————–

As I step out the door, a wave of heat washes over me. Thankfully, the house is nestled among the trees, providing some relief from the sweltering heat.

Lucien leads me down the stone steps, deeper into the verdant greenery. The lively apple trees grow abundantly, and even the breeze seems to carry a sweet fragrance.

The bed-and-breakfast he booked is located within Carver Estate Farm, not far from the lab. Since it's still early, we decided to take a stroll in the farm's orchard first.

MC: Now I finally feel like I'm truly on an American farm—

Lucien: The furniture and decor in that room can indeed be a bit misleading.

Lucien: That said, the radio and clock in the living room are just decorative pieces, and the stainless steel kettle in the kitchen is also fixed to the table.

Lucien: As for the fan and the TV, including the sewing machine, they actually work and can somewhat be considered "antiques.”

MC: When did you…

Lucien: [chuckles] The wait while you're asleep feels endless*, so I have to keep myself busy.

[T/N: Lucien uses the word "难熬" (literally means hard to bear) to describe his feelings while waiting for MC to wake up. Rather than feeling annoyed, the original sentence conveys a sense of longing and impatience, emphasizing how much he misses her so the wait feels unbearable]

Seeing him speak so seriously, I can't help but give his palm a gentle pinch.

Lucien: To be honest, I was a bit curious. I didn't expect the owner to maintain this style, or rather, deliberately preserve it.

MC: Have you been here before?

Lucien: Mm, Dr. Lawson brought the entire lab here before.

✂———————–

[T/N: Dr. Lawson was Lucien's mentor during his Master's and PhD years, in those years Lucien also had some seniors like Colt, Caroline, and Elliot. You can read more in Monochrome Scenery Exclusive Past. It can be said that the time during his Master’s and PhD years was the 'happiest' for him, after he abandoned his name and before he met MC. This young boy discovers that he’s not the only genius in this world. Surprisingly, this isn’t a bad thing; because being considered a genius had previously isolated him from his peers, but being surrounded by other geniuses provides him with a taste of mundane life… although he can’t fully taste it due to Black Swan’s pressure :"]

✂———————–

=[Part 2]=

Lucien: I remember it was autumn. We had just finished a phase of our experiment.

Lucien: The process of this experiment was very prolonged, and almost everyone expended a lot of effort. Fortunately, the results exceeded expectations.

Lucien: As a celebration, or perhaps simply out of a need for a break, Dr. Lawson suggested an outing after the experiment concluded.

MC: Sounds like a team-building activity?

Lucien: [chuckles] You could say that.

Lucien smiles lightly.

Lucien: At first, we all thought it would just be a matter of finding a nice restaurant, having a meal and chatting, or going to the theater to watch a performance.

Lucien: It wasn't until everyone received an email from Dr. Lawson that we realized we had been granted a mandatory five-day vacation. And the destination was this very farm estate.

MC: Pfft, Dr. Lawson is quite ceremonious about giving everyone a day off~ So, did everyone just obediently accept the arrangement?

I notice Lucien pausing, lost in thought, which is unusual for him. Then, a smile spreads on his lips.

Lucien: [chuckles] Not exactly.

Lucien: Eventually, everyone practically treated this place as a lab annex, almost bringing in equipment. Fortunately, the farm owner was an old friend of Dr. Lawson's, so we weren't kicked out.

MC: Hahaha, I knew it!

As we walk deeper into the apple orchard, the intertwined branches and leaves block out the sunlight, creating a vast expanse of shade. Vibrant red apples dot the lush greenery, looking especially tempting.

Lucien: The farm owner is an elderly Chinese gentleman. It's said that he and his wife came here to live when they were young, and this apple orchard was also planted by them with their own hands.

MC: No wonder. I think I suddenly understand why the house's decor feels so nostalgic.

Lucien: Perhaps it's precisely because they've been away for so long that they need tangible things to solidify those memories.

The swaying shadows of the trees dance in his deep eyes, and even though he's talking about someone else, I feel like I'm hearing unspoken words meant for himself.

So I rise on my tiptoes and cup his face, turning it towards me.

MC: So today, little Lucien is revisiting his old stomping grounds~ And as such an accomplished young professor, no less!

MC: This memory is very precious, and it's important to solidify it well.

Lucien: Is that so?

His voice is soft as he lowers his eyelashes and gazes into my eyes.

I feel like my entire being is almost seen through by him. He doesn't say a word, just keeps looking at me.

MC: Why are you staring at me?

Lucien: [chuckles] I'm solidifying this memory.

MC: Um?

Lucien: Because I'm not just here by myself.

Lucien: Today, I'm revisiting this place with my girlfriend. I want to look closely, carefully, and remember your appearance clearly.

I can't help but laugh, my fingertips brushing against his earlobe.

MC: Then how about remembering a bit more~ What else did little Lucien do here?

Lucien: I ate the apples.

MC: ....That doesn't count!

Lucien: Of course it counts. To be precise, it was an apple feast, with apple pie, apple muffins, apple salad, apple stew…

MC: Stop...! You're making me dizzy just looking at these apple trees now.

MC: I feel like they're saying to me, "I'm apple pie, I'm apple muffin…”

I dramatically shake my head and point to the huge fruits hanging above us.

Lucien seems amused by my actions. Seizing the moment, he smoothly takes my hand and plucks the apple hanging closest to us.

Lucien: [chuckles] Then let's eat them all, one by one.

He finishes speaking and even "conjures" a thin blanket from his bag, spreading it on the ground. He pulls me, who is still processing the moment, to sit under the tree.

His seamless actions leave me completely unable to keep up with him, and my questions come out in a jumble.

MC: C- Can we just pick the apples here? And sit down like this? And this blanket…

Lucien: I told you waiting for you to wake up feels endless, and I wasn't lying.

He looks as if he knows I can't do anything about him, and his tone, though seemingly aggrieved, is full of triumph.

We sit side-by-side under the tree, falling into a brief silence. The wind gently blows, as if not wanting to disturb this tranquility.

Lucien & MC: What are you thinking about?

Suddenly, we speak at the same time, and the unexpected coincidence makes us look at each other and laugh.

MC: You go first~

Lucien: I was wondering if an apple might fall on my head.

He says it so seriously that I find it rather cute. On a whim, I get up, pluck an apple, and then gently tap him on the head.

MC: Knock knock…

Lucien seems surprised by my action, the light in his pupils flickers.

Lucien: [gently] What about you?

MC: Me…

I smile sheepishly.

MC: I thought of a fairy tale, Prince... Snow White.

Lucien: But that's not how I remember the story?

MC: Because… this is a story I imagined!

Lucien nods thoughtfully, not minding my nonsense at all, but instead curving his eyes in a good mood.

Lucien: Then in your story, who are you?

This question stumps me for a moment, and I pause to think seriously before answering.

MC: I'm the magic mirror.

Lucien: Because the magic mirror knows everything?

MC: [smiles softly] Not really, it's because the magic mirror only looks at...the prince.

MC: And if I were the magic mirror, I wouldn't need you to ask, I'd tell you that—

MC: Lucien is the most handsome, the most intelligent, the most amazing, and the person I love the most in this entire world.

My voice is not loud, yet it feels like the entire orchard of apples has heard it. Their already gorgeous red blushing even deeper, making their vibrancy impossible to conceal.

My clamorous heart seems to be thoroughly exposed by the sun, allowing me to distinctly feel its beating and clearly see the smile filling Lucien's eyes.

He lowers his head, takes a bite of the apple in his hand, and lies down without hesitation.

Our hands, which have been holding each other all along, pull me slightly forward because of his sudden movement.

MC: …!

Lucien lies lazily on the plush blanket, each strand of hair scattering softly, as if quietly outlining his innermost feeling at this moment.

His already loose shirt falls open completely, revealing a patch of skin.

He gently blinks and the corners of his lips slightly curl up.

Under the scorching heat, the apples hanging from the branches exude an even more enticing fragrance.

The wind gathers from afar, wave after wave, sweeping through the villa, the woods, and each apple tree, carrying an increasingly rich scent toward us.

His fingertip traces mine, gently caressing the sensitive skin between my thumb and index finger.

It's like some kind of seduction.

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] Miss Magic Mirror, I've been poisoned.

His voice is soft as if melting into the sunlight, yet it possesses a bewitching power that makes one willingly lean closer to him.

Lucien: You can kiss me now.

✂———————–

[T/N: Prince Snow White and Miss Magic Mirror… it’s a reference to his second Halloween date; Prison Date! Also, I love the way it seamlessly fits in the theme of ‘lover is like a mirror’ from last year's kiss SP; Blooming Amidst Turbulent Desires MQ... perhaps by seeing your lover's eyes you can see the real and complete you :”. And unique to Lucien, it could be that only through seeing his reflection in her eyes can he perceive the colorful version of himself]

✂———————–

=[Part 3]=

After buying some apple cookies at the farm store and making a reservation for apple cider making tomorrow, we drive to Dr. Lawson's lab.

The asphalt road under the shade of the trees glistens in the summer light. In the distance, sailboats glide on the river and people cycle along the riverbank.

Perhaps it's due to the fluttering anticipation in my heart, but the half-hour drive feels like it's over in the blink of an eye.

✂———————–

Lucien: Dr. Lawson is giving a lecture in London this week, and the current head of the lab is my senior, Colt. After graduation, he stayed on to continue the research.

Lucien: But he happens to be leading a group of students in an academic exchange with another lab today…

Lucien pauses for a moment, moves the gift bag he just placed on the desk to the side, and takes a sticky note off the computer screen.

Lucien: [quietly reading the sticky note] …..

He waves the sticky note at me, and I can clearly see the lively handwriting on it: "Enjoy: )".

Lucien: It seems like no one will be back today. In that case, let's graciously accept this invitation to enjoy ourselves.*

[T/N: "恭敬不如从命" means “it's more respectful to follow a request than to decline it out of politeness.” In this case, rather than refusing Colt's invitation, they graciously accept and agree to enjoy the day as requested]

✂———————–

The white walls make the spacious corridor even brighter. Along the way, the walls of classrooms and laboratories are adorned with various awards and patent certificates.

It seems that just by passing through, one can feel countless figures with unceasing footsteps, moving forward persistently and rationally, knocking on one unknown door after another.

✂———————–

Lucien: The desk by the window was the place I most often sat in the lab. Because I always sat there, it eventually became my ‘workstation’.

Lucien: Even if I arrived late, everyone would save this seat for me;

Lucien: [chuckles] But I don't really have a fixed seat in the library. I've never known if those people who are already looking up information early in the morning are actually early risers or if they just never went to bed;

Lucien: Occasionally, when the weather was nice, professors would take us out to the lawn for class;

Lucien: This vending machine used to swallow coins. I wonder if it's been fixed…

Lucien leads me through the corridor, past the small garden, into classrooms, laboratories, and the library…

Perhaps even he himself hasn't realized it, but returning here has made him happy.

It's in the little things he doesn't even realize he's doing: the way his steps quicken without him noticing, the instinctive caress of his fingertips against my palm, the soft murmurs he makes when he notices something different from his memories.

And even the hint of joy as he reveals those past memories with me.

He leads me by the hand through every nook and cranny of this place, making me feel as if I'm walking through his youth.

Finally, we arrive at the dormitory building.

Lucien: Generally, everyone lives here. They're mostly single rooms, so you have a lot of privacy.

MC: I remember you mentioned it before, so is this the common lounge area?

In this not-so-large space in front of us, several sofas and coffee tables are neatly arranged, and the bar counter displays simple everyday items.

Lucien: Mm, usually everyone relaxes here while waiting for experiment results. Occasionally, we also play a round of NOU.

MC: Pfft, I didn't expect this kind of leisure activity.

Lucien: [chuckles] To be precise, it's a traditional activity.

Sensing an interesting topic, I quickly shake his hand and press for more details.

MC: What else? What other things do you do?

Lucien thinks for a moment, then suddenly smiles.

Lucien: There's actually one interesting thing.

Lucien: In the past, before important experimental results were concluded, everyone would tacitly let a certain colleague touch the experiment machine a few more times, and then pray to it.

Lucien: And often, the results wouldn't be too bad, and there was a high probability of exceeding expectations.

MC: Hahaha, so he's the ‘lab koi’ you were talking about!

[T/N: It’s a reference to the “Lab Koi” call from last year!]

Lucien nods, the warm white light tracing the contours of his face, making his features appear even softer.

I can hear the nostalgia in his voice that he unintentionally revealed, and I know that he might be thinking about a lot of things at this moment.

I'm reluctant to break this brief silence*, my gaze subconsciously drifting towards this lounge, as if I could catch a glimpse of the genius boy who had once been here.

[T/N: The phrase "不舍得" (bù shě de) expresses a reluctance or unwillingness to part with something precious or cherished. While the English translation "reluctant" conveys the general idea, it might not fully capture the way MC cherishes this rare moment of Lucien being so nostalgic that she's reluctant to break🤧]

Suddenly, my attention is drawn to the wall next to the bar counter.

It's a small display wall. Besides showcasing some achievement certificates of past researchers, there's also a handwritten message board and some photos.

It turns out there will always be someone who earnestly preserves and longs for the past, with all its time and traces.

I quickly find a familiar figure among them.

It's a slightly blurry photo, almost as if it were a frame grabbed from a video.

The boy surrounded by the crowds slightly widened his eyes, a bouquet of flowers was thrust into his arms as he let the others boisterously tease and laugh around him.

Lucien: [chuckles, his voice exclaims a little in surprise] ...So, I really was quite surprised back then.

Lucien quietly walks up behind me at some point, his gaze intently fixed on this photo.

The world is truly a wondrous place. It appears to operate according to established principles, yet it often defies logic.

Those emotions that he never understood in the past are now brought before him in some fateful way, regaining their meaning and significance.

Lucien gazes at the girl beside him, observing her happiness and surprise, witnessing all the beautiful emotions that have blossomed because of him.

But she has no idea that her existence has allowed him to see how beautiful the world is.

Lucien's gaze slowly returned to the photo.

Countless colorful ribbons flutter in the air, shimmering and sparkling. The colors, engraved with blessings and well-wishes, seem to transcend time, flowing into his eyes in this very moment.

He speaks softly.

Lucien: It turns out that day was actually so lively.

✂———————–

The last scene is about his Last year’s Birthday Story! He graduated with his PhD on his birthday. This graduation was celebrated by his seniors and professor. At that time, everything was monochrome in his eyes. However, visiting the place with MC and seeing his graduation photo with her brings color to a memory that was once only in black and white. He now realizes how lively and vibrant that day truly was.

✂———————–

=[Part 4]=

MC: Are you saying that Senior Brother Colt and Senior Sister Caroline being together was something specifically emailed to you?

Lucien gives a helpless smile.

Lucien: Their reasoning was that I'd receive the information faster by email, and it turns out they were absolutely right.

MC: Hahaha!

We walk back, laughing and chatting. Along the way, I listen to Lucien share stories from his past that he seldom opens up about, about the later developments of his companions, and their current situations.

Some things he tells me without much recollection, while others he needs to think about for a moment. But it seems that the process of remembering makes him a bit happier.

One intersection away from the farm, we pass by a market and stop to buy some food.

Lucien: I'll take the things to the car first, wait for me here.

MC: Okay~ I'll be right here at the market.

While waiting for Lucien to get the car, I notice a stall at the market.

A silver-haired grandma is engrossed in weaving bracelets, her stall filled with dazzling beaded ornaments that shimmer under the soft glow of the glass lamps.

Suddenly, an idea strikes me, and I walk towards the stall.

✂———————–

MC: Ah, it's so hot.

As soon as I enter the house, I hurriedly turn on the air conditioner and fan.

Although the temperature here is still quite pleasant compared to the summer in Loveland City, I’m probably still jet-lagged that I feel a little dizzy.

Struggling to fight the rising drowsiness, I sort and organize the purchased items with Lucien.

Lucien: How about having dinner at the farm's eco-restaurant tonight? That way you can sleep earlier and won't be too tired.

Lucien: Or should we go somewhere farther to try some local specialties?

MC: Either is fine with me~ But before we eat, I need to do something important first.

I arrange the washed apples in a fruit bowl and pull Lucien to sit down with me.

I fish the woven bracelet I bought earlier from the stall out of my pocket. I pull his arm towards me and carefully, with a sense of cherishing, fasten the bracelet around his wrist.

Lucien clasps my wrist in return, his gaze shifting from the bracelet to me, as if waiting for an explanation.

MC: It's just... I suddenly wanted to give you something.

MC: Maybe it's because I saw your photos in the lounge earlier, or maybe it's because I heard so much about your past today.

MC: Even though I knew what those days truly meant to you, it wasn't until I actually went there that I realized…

MC: Everything about Lucien has been well treasured.

He's looking at me, hanging on to my every word.

MC: I'm so lucky to have picked them up again and to have pieced them together with you.

MC: To let them become you, the complete person standing before me.

Gazing into his eyes and seeing the one and only figure reflected there, I feel surprisingly calm and settled inside.

I gently caress his wrist twice.

MC: You see, I tied this knot myself! And I picked out this little agate bead super carefully. Don't you think it's pretty?

MC: It can be like the apple that falls on your head and sparks inspiration or the one that tempts you to be curious about everything.

MC: But now, it is also the "apple" I am giving to you.

MC: [smiles softly] Lucien, I hope the present me can also become a special fragment, forever remaining in your memories.

Pinkish-purple hues gently paint the horizon, and a beam of light happens to fall in, illuminating the agate bead.

The smooth texture is brightly highlighted, making the color seem to dance, leaping into those beautiful dark eyes.

Lucien: [softly] Indeed… very vibrant.

Lucien: Like an apple.

As he says this, he looks at me, his brows and eyes curving into a beautiful arc, leaving me momentarily unsure of what exactly he's referring to.

MC: Then let’s go eat…!

My cheeks start to feel warm as I belatedly realize what he means, and as I try to rise from his embrace, an irresistible force pulls me back onto his lap.

The arm wrapped around my waist tightens slightly, deepening the embrace.

Lucien: [whispers seductively] Before that, I also have something important to do.

He lowers his head, kissing the little agate bead cherishingly, then gently moves his kisses to my fingertips resting on his wrist, his lips slowly trailing upward, inch by inch.

Each kiss is feather light and slow, as if he’s carefully tracing every detail, until every part of my skin is stained with his warmth.

Lucien: MC.

He gives my earlobe another gentle peck before pulling back slightly, creating a small distance between us.

Lucien: [softly] Today, I've felt the significance of those seemingly meaningless moments from the past.

Lucien: It turns out there are many other people in my dreams.

[T/N: This part is what I mean by the date being the extension of last month's MQ (The Sea No Longer Distant MQ). It can be said that on this date, Lucien finally understands what MC means in that MQ. It's like... growing a 'heart' and feeling emotions that he doesn't comprehend before. He's lucky to have many people willing to ‘dream’ together with him🥺]

His abrupt change of topic leaves me momentarily confused as if he’s speaking in riddles. It takes me a moment to catch up and understand what he’s talking about.

Memories of the beach from a month ago flood back. I look into those eyes that are still fixed on me, and I seem to see emotions in them that weren't there before.

Lucien: You're right. People are complex, and they're also greedy.

Lucien: Because of you, I've accepted many things, and as a result, I desire even more.

Lucien: I'm curious about what other changes I'll experience because of you, and what surprises you'll bring me.

Lucien: And besides curiosity, there's also expectation.

I tilt my head up and kiss the corner of his lips.

MC: Then keep being curious about me.

MC: I like that you're curious about me.

I reach out to touch Lucien's face, wanting to look more clearly into his eyes.

Lucien: [whispers softly] Miss Magic Mirror, can you tell me…

Lucien: In your eyes, what am I like at this very moment?

I can't help but laugh.

MC: Right now, your eyes are the color of the entire sky. They're so beautiful.

MC: Your hair is bestowed with the warm glow of the setting sun, looking soft and fluffy. Your lips…

As I talk, I give him another kiss.

MC: It makes me want to do this.

Lucien also starts laughing.

MC: Lucien, right now, everything about you is complete in my eyes, and I can see you clearly.

He leans down again, his warm and moist breath brushing against my neck as he kisses me, causing subtle tingling sensations on my skin.

I instinctively try to pull away, but as I reach out to hold onto the back of his neck, he firmly holds me in place.

My legs dangle, unable to find a foothold, forcing me to use all my strength to hook onto his lap, while my other hand blindly grabs onto the curtain.

The crimson sunset spills over us unrestrainedly. As if dazzled by the spots of light, Lucien lifts me towards him, shifting a little as he holds me.

Amid the rocking motion, his leg accidentally touches the nearby coffee table, making a noise.

The sudden weightlessness makes me instinctively tighten my arms, causing him to gently bite my collarbone.

His scorching breath brushes against my neck like a feather, his scent overwhelming and filling every corner. It mingles with the fruity fragrance in the air, creating an even more alluring aroma.

Out of the corner of my eye, the goldfish in the fish bowl seem startled as well, swaying and swinging, leaving behind two tangled and intertwined trails*.

The skin grazed by my fingertips starts to burn, and I'm getting hot too.

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] MC, you make me feel a gentle gaze.

Right now, we probably can't see each other's expressions, but it's as if we can see everything.

His low, hoarse voice resonates against my neck, and his moving lips make my throat vibrate, as though his words and voice have become my own.

Lucien: [x2] Make me feel truly seen by you, deeply loved by you**.

Lucien: [x3] Make me… feel happy and satisfied.

He traces a trail of delicate nibbles along my neck, kissing the path where life itself flows.

I feel those affectionate yet slightly demanding marks being etched again and again. For some reason, I find myself speaking without thinking.

MC: Bite me, Lucien.

The rustling of clothes suddenly stops, and his breathing also ceases, as if he is holding his breath.

I know my face is burning bright red, but I only shyly embrace him, moving myself even closer to him.

MC: I've also been seen by you and possessed by you.

In the sweaty air, I hear his long, drawn-out breath.

But in the next moment, they are all swept into my lips and tongue, obtaining all my oxygen in a different way.

Lucien: [kisses and pants] It is because you possess me that I am complete.

Lucien: [x2] Please keep possessing me forever… MC.

Lucien: [x3] In this world, only you will possess this kind of me.

———FIN———–

[T/N]

*: The fish in the bowl description might seem out of place, but it's not! It alludes to '鱼水之欢' (lit. 'the joy of fish and water'), which is a Chinese idiom that describes the joy and intimacy of sexual intercourse or the metaphor for the act itself. It's also an idiom that is a metaphor for the intimate and harmonious emotional or sexual life of men and women.

**: This is my favorite line in this because of the way it emphasizes Lucien's feeling of being understood and cherished 🤧 “看见" (kàn jiàn, to see) has the connotation of being acknowledged and truly understood. I think, for Lucien, being ‘seen’ and understood is significant; understanding the world is his thing as a scientist, so when someone makes an effort to understand him, it means a lot to him. Then the use of directly spoken “爱” (ài) which is a very, very sentimental word to say compared to how the west uses ‘love’ regularly… and the way it also encompasses a sense of enduring love, a sense of care, cherishing, and protectiveness🥺

Those last lines!!!!! Under her gaze, he feels utterly seen, completely known, and thus, entirely himself. It's because she possesses him fully that he feels complete. While others in his life may hold only fragments of him, she alone possesses his entirety. As the fox says in "The Little Prince," “But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world.” It is through her 'taming' that his completeness becomes something uniquely hers and hers alone.

And as Lucien mentioned in the Radio Broadcast Date, his form of possessiveness goes beyond one-sided control or dominance. Rather than just possessing her, he longs even more for her to possess him. To let her influence and 'change' him. Their possessiveness is a two-way thing: just as he is insatiable and wants all of her, he also craves to belong to the one he loves and to surrender himself entirely. After all, possessiveness is also a form of exceptional cherishing of the other party (his words in radio broadcast date, not mine), and he enjoys the feeling of being cherished and loved in this way.

#those last lines are CRAZY with the panting and kissing noises hjdhjbdsbsdhsf #why this man happiness make me more teary-eyed than when he straight up sad sob sob #his unconscious happiness just make me WEEP #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mlqc #mlqc translation #mr. love queen's choice #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo #mlqc spoilers #Youtube

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canmom · 1 year ago

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music and narrative {[0]}

so. as part of the ongoing music researches, I've for a while wanted about the relation between music and narrative. that's going to be a long project! but to begin with I wanted to run down the examples I know, and maybe solicit a few more~

now, on some level, nearly any song has some degree of narrative. your basic love song introduces us to some characters - singer, object of their affection - and furnishes them with emotions and desires. moreover, music can play a role in a narrative without literally relating events - indeed, the art of soundtrack design is definitely a subject I want to look into at some point. even songs addressed directly at the real world, such as political songs, construct some kind of narrative.

however, for these purposes, I'm interested in songs that go a bit further in the direction of telling a fictional story, especially when those link together into whole albums (sometimes called a concept album, though this is a slightly broader concept). which can work in a lot of ways!

for example, Janelle Monae's The ArchAndroid tells a sweeping scifi story of an android fleeing an oppressive society and becoming an unintentional figurehead of revolution. it sketches out a wide-reaching set of influences in constructing a scifi world, but you'd be hard-pressed to boil it down into a simple series of events - it prefers to leave a lot to interpretation. by contrast something like Splendor & Misery by clipping. deals with kinda similar subject matter - a scifi story, an escaped slave, artificial intelligence - but with a different musical approach and perhaps a slightly clearer narrative arc; sometimes directly narrating the thoughts and actions of characters, or slipping into memory, but also drawing less direct musical parallels with e.g. gospel tracks and slave spirituals. both excellent albums - both solve the problems of conveying a story musically in different ways.

of course, the largest pool of examples here comes in the context of musical theatre, and further back opera. (the exact transition from one to the other is something I'm going to need to research). particularly interesting to me are sung-through musicals such as Les Misérables, in which there's no spoken sections in between the songs. this restriction means the songs (and staging etc.) have to do all the work of conveying the events of the story.

there's a lot to be said about the various traditions of musicals (for example). there's even more to be said about the history of opera - both the Western traditions and other musical traditions that have been given the label such as Chinese opera. but that will have to wait for later day in the project because otherwise this entire post would be a huge list of musicals, and I want to try and wander all over the shop.

what I'm most curious to find is music that tells a story all on its own - no actors or staging, but more similar to oral narration. of course, in the present era, music is often released along with videos, and these can tell quite elaborate stories that will become part of the overall 'message' communicated by the song, so the lines are a bit blurry! but since the aim of this series will be to look for ways to convey narrative using music, I'm looking for examples where the music does most of the heavy lifting.

music that tells stories is something with a looong tradition in folk music, pretty much the world over. in Europe, the ballad was a common form for it, a word that survives into the present. it seems that most cultures have had some kind of tradition of wandering itinerant musician-poets - for example, at various points in history, there were biwa hōshi in Japan (pictured) and griots in West Africa, medieval Europeans had minstrels, the Celts had bards, the Occitans had troubadors...

moreover, work and marching songs such as sea shanties would also have a certain degree of narrative to them, in addition to their main function of keeping a group moving in time.

in modern times, people will sometimes attempt to reconstruct how this kind of music and lyric poetry would have been performed. you can naturally only go so far with the archaeological evidence, but I'm fond of Peter Pringle's recordings of segments of the Epic of Gilgamesh, using period instruments if not necessarily a period musical style!

in the modern age of recorded music, these traditions have become much more niche, but there are still artists who use music as a vehicle to tell a fictional narrative. (fair warning: I'm a huge nerd, so most of the examples I know are like, supreme nerd shit. also about ten years ago I was given an assortment of metal from a friend which included a bunch of what I'm about to put below.)

to begin with I've naturally got to talk about my friend Maki Yamazaki (Dr Carmilla) and the band she founded but later left, The Mechanisms. They tell a story of a sprawling gothic scifi universe, with the band playing the role of travelling space pirates who observe the (invariably tragic) tales that unfold. The Mechanisms' music starts as folk song pastiche, but gradually gets more original, although narratively they keep the approach of crossing over mythology with genre storytelling (fairy tales as space opera, arthuriana as space western).

The Mechanisms got a significant measure of international fame washing back after their frontman Johnny Sims got really big on some podcast or something.

Maki's solo music as Dr Carmilla took things in (from a narrative sense) a more abstract direction, using elaborate production and an incredibly textured sound to tell a (so far!) fragmentary story of the tragic space vampire Dr Carmilla and her doomed relationship with another vampire Lorelei (for example). And I'm gonna have lots more to say about them all, in the future, but this is just an overview so let's not get ahead of ourselves!

In a related vein (though I'm much less familiar with them) comes indie band Decemberists, who often create narratively driven songs - for example, The Mariner's Revenge Song depicts a sailor's motivation for extracting bloody revenge on someone who wronged him, with the actual violence conveyed by an energetic instrumental break. A subject that reminds me of the Clockwork Quartet, now long gone, who managed to record just three of their songs from a larger project, yet stand out as way more interesting than most of the steampunk milieu - with for example The Clockmaker's Apprentice giving a very fun antihero-revenge narrative to the ticking beat of a clock, and The Doctor's Wife a compelling tragedy of desperate medical science.

There's definitely something in common with this type of storytelling and the subgenre termed rock opera, which has a pretty long history going back to the late 60s (SF Sorrow by Pretty Things and The Story of Simon Simopath by Nirvana, thanks wikipedia), with notable examples including some incredibly popular albums like Pink Floyd's The Wall (which was adapted into a partly animated film using animations by Gerard Scarfe, c.f AN86) and My Chemical Romance's The Black Parade. In many of these, the connection between songs and narrative is fairly abstract and metaphorical - most of the examples mentioned are about the psychological arc of one character.

Calling this a genre or subgenre is kind of a stretch recently - just in those four examples we see a pretty wide range of musical styles, so it's more like an approach to album writing. Still, for want of a better word, there's definite overlap between this 'genre' and musicals. For example, the history on wikipedia cites The Rocky Horror Picture Show as an example of rock opera, which in my head it's just a musical. (Anyway, exactly the taxonomy of regular opera/libretto, rock opera and musical theatre is not that important anyway, because we want to look at the techniques of all of them!)

A more direct narrative comes in the work of The Protomen, who have the 'no way that would work' premise of creating a huge, dramatic, emotional story based on the plot of the Mega Man games. By putting the focus on the tense relationships of the fought main characters (scientists Light and Wily and robot boys Proto Man and Mega Man), and their sense of rejection and betrayal by the broader society, they somehow pull it off.

Moving gradually in the direction of (progressive) metal, we encounter Ayreon, whose entire career has been telling psychedelic and occult stories of time travel, aliens, warnings projected into the past, out of body experiences, and the history and direction of humanity. I'm not sure if all of their albums fit together into one big story exactly, but certain ideas seem to keep coming up - for example, future societies or aliens sending warnings to humanity to fix our shit before it's too late. In some of their albums (e.g. The Electric Castle) they follow the device of having each member of the band play a character in an ensemble cast, bringing it a bit closer to something like a radio play.

Also in metal land we find the rather unique project Charlemagne: By The Sword and the Cross, best known for that time Christopher Lee shed the blood of the saxon men. This is using music as a vehicle for a (more or less) historical story, featuring an old Charlemagne (Lee) reminiscing on the various awful things he did over the course of his life. Apparently they made a sequel to this album, which I never realised!

As well as history, metal also likes to lean on literature and poetry. For example, Kamelot (classed, apparently, as 'Power Metal') have a rather fun adaptation of the story of Faust into two albums, Epica and The Black Halo. Iron Maiden famously took on the Rime of the Ancient Mariner in a 13 minute song. And that's not even to get into all the songs dealing with Tolkien.

Moving on from metal before we start listing a hundred songs about vikings, it's worth looking more broadly for music about history, since it's a pretty major overlap with fictional storytelling! For example, the Boney M song Rasputin tells an incredibly catchy account of the assassination of Grigori Rasputin. Another rather more charged example comes in Nakam by Daniel Kahn and the Painted Bird, about the unsuccessful paramilitary plot to poison six million Germans as revenge for the Holocaust.

If you go looking, you can find an impressively long list of historical songs compiled by 30 users of lyrics website Genius - though many of these I feel don't really count, since they were describing contemporary events when they were written.

Of course, there is a heavy overlap between this subject and political songs - in many cases the historical subjects are invoked to comment on the present. For example, Wernher von Braun by Tom Lehrer was written at a time when von Braun was leading the US space programme. In many cases, the songs simply invoke a historical event to express a feeling, assuming you already know what happened. Others may recount events more or less directly, before seguing into a verse or two at the end about why it matters now. Most of the songs in this list focus on recent (20th-century) history, sometimes they reach further back - mostly to talk about colonialism.

Historical songs can also be quite oblique. For example, Mili's song Salt, Pepper, Birds and the Thought Police is about the life of Korean poet Yoon Dong-ju, but you wouldn't necessarily know it from the content of the lyrics unless you were already familiar with Yoon's life. More on Mili in a moment - most of their songs are more fictional.

One thing I'm curious about is whether there are examples of more historical fiction in music, which tries to imagine the thoughts and feelings of historical characters... well obviously there's Hamilton, and perhaps that illustrates why there aren't a lot more songs about non-recent history, because the vibes can be off.

Storytelling is still a powerful mechanism even in a contemporary, political song. Take Construção by Chico Buarque - the story it tells is of the pointless death of a construction worker; with the lines ingeniously remixed over the course of the song, this turns into a wider illustration of the ruthlessness of the system that killed him. Its lyrics are absolutely fucking genius, even if you don't speak Portugese.

Speaking of language, most of the examples I've covered so far are in English, since well, that's my native language. It's naturally a little harder to access a story in a language you don't speak, but in these days of subtitles, we kinda can! So for example I can encounter projects like MILGRAM, something of a combination of music project and voting-driven story, in which we are introduced (by character song) to a number of characters facing execution - and then invited to vote on who should die. Heavily illustrated, it is somewhere vaguely in the space between album and straight-up anime.

I mentioned Mili already, but many of their other songs have a strong narrative arc to them, and sketch out the contours of a fictional setting. For example, one of their best-known songs is world.execute(me), which portrays the failure of a bdsm relationship between an AI girl and her creator. Which is relatively grounded by Mili standards - other songs depict for example the relationship of a jiangshi and a mad scientist cooking food, or a witch reanimating a knight with scientific methods to kill on her behalf.

And I think that will suffice for now. But we are of course only scratching the surface - this is by no means supposed to be an exhaustive list but I'm sure there's stuff that I'll be kicking myself for not mentioning. Mostly, however, this is a request for recommendations - particularly, of music from genres I haven't addressed in this post, and especially non-English languages, or that convey their stories in especially creative or unusual ways.

This project will likely be a long time in the works - it's something of a supplement to the Music Theory Notes (for science bitches) series - but my aim will be to pick out a few of these to examine how they go about conveying narrative through songs. Because I think that's kind of one of the big things I want to do with music.

ok canmom out i gotta go play some music. see you next time!

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kiwii-11 · 2 months ago

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crawling back to you!

in which . . . when the universe dangles a piece of their heart in front of them, starlight will always reach for it.

or . . . moments where fool! avior is stubborn and careless, but fool! starlight manages to always fall for him.

cw . . . gn reader, they/them pronouns, third person pic, fool! avior x fool! starlight, freelancer! avior, desire demon! starlight, fool! starlight has a tattoo that gives them their nickname, desire demons have tails in their natural form right?? SPOILERS FOR SOVEREIGN STATE S1, i had to ask a lot of questions, kind of like the last episode where it’s little memories of their time together, use of “my love”, “darling”, “pretty boy” towards avior, “baby” towards starlight, demons have tails right?

that stupid warden was going to be the death of them. literally.

they should’ve known to stay away from him as soon as they realised he wasn’t just a normal empowered. but when he had them cornered one day, saying he knew that he was being fed on by them, they knew they couldn’t just escape this one with their smooth words. they weren’t one to feed on desire like the usual desire demon, and thought they were slick, but it seemed they weren’t. they’ve never felt this much magic pulse from a warden before, an energetic that was supposed to be defensive, shielding. his core was thorny.

so when they had the chance to rift, they immediately took it. however, they didn’t account for their rift to appear right on top of another person.

the feeling of falling wasn’t new to them, but when they realised they weren’t in the campus park like they should’ve been, they grew confused. slipping on the entrance of the rift caused them to fall on their hands and knees, dust collecting in the air.

“fuck…” they swore as they lifted themselves up, “where the hell…?”

“uh…” a voice called from beneath them, “hi.”

trapped against the floor by their arms was another person, cheeks accompanied by a heavy blush. he stared at their face with a slack jaw.

“who the fuck are you?” they questioned, leaning back and crossing their arms.

the guy pushed himself up with his palms flat on the floor. “avior, my name’s avior.” he claims.

“you’re… not supposed to be here,” the demon sighs, looking up to the discoloured sky, “never knew humans could rift, let alone freelancers — usually they’d’ve been torn apart.”

“i—i don’t know how to rift,” avior states, “how’d you know i’m a freelancer?”

they glance back at him before groaning, “then you fell into my rift, idiot. and your core gives you away; not quite strong but far from weak. if you were a certain elemental or energetic, i’d know.”

avior hastily stands up and follows them as they begin to investigate their surroundings. “right, that makes sense. what kind of… demon are you?”

his eyes were on their tail that was whacking back and forth in annoyance. he’s never seen a demon form before. they turn their head to him with a deadpan expression.

“desire,” they huff as they rub their neck, “i need to get out of here, or else that fuckin’ warden is gonna’ do something.”

“huh?” avior mumbles.

“nothing,” they respond as they stare off in the distance, “it feels like an influx of magic just coursing through this place. everything’s so… alive.”

“well, what about the rift? it isn’t closed yet, why don’t we just—”

“don’t!” they shout as they grab his hand and pull it away from the broken space, “my rifts aren’t like that. it’s trying to suck you in. just… don’t touch it. you’ll get us into more trouble than you already have.”

“wha—me?” he pointed at himself with a confused expression. “i—i didn’t do anything! if anyone is to blame, it’s you for not… rifting properly.”

they raised their brow and scoffed, “oh, i know how to rift perfectly. your stupid magic just fucked with it because it hasn’t been properly harnessed.”

he was unsuccessful in producing a comeback, which made the demon roll their eyes and walk on.

nevertheless. he stared at them with wonder, never having seen someone of their beauty. he could felt the warmth from their hand on his wrist, eager to feel more. maybe it was because of their power, or because he was desperate, but avior wasn’t having an easy time ignoring their presence.

a little while later, after surveying the land available, the two had come to the conclusion that this place wasn’t of aria or anything they were familiar with. the ‘rift’ was still open and was flaunting the outside to them. they could see the setting sun and the buildings from the alleyway. it was a taunting sight.

with the snap of their fingers, the desire demon had created a safe haven for the both of them to rest in. two beds, which they weren’t exactly familiar with.

“we’re sleeping separately.” they stated as they fixed their pillow on the other side of the room.

“of course.” he says in a short tone, as if surprised.

they caught his blushing face. “what, did you expect something else? i’m not gonna’ feed on you, pretty boy.”

“‘pretty boy’…” he cleared his throat, sliding under the blankets of his own bed.

their brow twitched at the feeling coming off of the freelancer. he was reaching out for something, and even though they didn’t know what it was, they knew was fascination felt like. and he was feeling a lot of that right now.

they could feel it even after he drifts off to sleep and they lay there panicking.

a couple weeks had past by the time that the freelancer was stupid enough to reach out to the rift against their wishes. he was launched away when he managed to get free, his forearm obviously singed and bruised.

the desire demon clicked their tongue as they sat by the fire.

“are you always this much of an idiot or can you tone it down while we’re here?” they scowl, “just because you’re a freelancer doesn’t mean you can do everything. a jack of all trades is a master of none, y’know.”

“i wasn’t trying to open it or anything.” he huffs as they gently hold his arm on their lap.

“so what were you trying to do?” they glare at him.

he cowers away a little., but the demon’s tail wraps around his bicep to keep him in place. “i… it was calling out to me…”

the demon stares at him and his embarrassed face. to him, it sounded stupid, like he was going crazy. but it was unnatural. rifts shouldn’t be able to be open this long, let alone try to grab at someone entering. they purse their lips.

“i’m gonna’ heal you and you’re gonna’ stay in bed until i say you can leave.” they sigh.

“what? why?” he chokes out with a heavy blush.

“so i know you’re not off doing dumb shit like this again,” they explain, catching onto his thought process, “i know you want me to heal you. you’re spent, and you don’t know healing.”

“i thought the injuries here weren’t real…” he mumbles.

“just because they aren’t real doesn’t mean you should leave them like this,” they state, gentle fingers on his wounds, “it’s fine, just let me heal you, pretty boy.”

“stop calling me that…” he mumbles under his breath as their touch lights up his nerves.

“why? you don’t think you’re pretty?” they ask, focusing on using their healing magic and trying to distract him. they’re careful to hold his hand.

“i don’t know…” he grumbles, looking away.

“well, i think you’re pretty.” they state, beginning to heal him. he sucks in his breath at the pain, and the end of their tail gently brushes his arm to soothe him.

“you’re… just saying that because you—you have to.” he stammers in his flustered state. he couldn’t think at the moment.

“whatever you say, darling,” they chuckle, rubbing the now healed wound, “now, be careful. next thing you know, you’ll lose those eyes and i won’t be calling you ‘pretty boy’.”

as they stand to leave, avior reaches out and takes their hand. they halt.

“hey, uh… can i call you ‘starlight’?” he questions sheepishly.

they blink at the man, whose nerves are shaking their fingers. he has been thinking about this for a while now, and only now he was able to gather up the courage. the freelancer already felt embarrassed by his question, especially after the silence he was met with.

“‘starlight’? why?” the demon asks as he stands up with them.

“well, for one, you still haven’t told me your name,” avior chuckles as he shrugs, “and, um, i—i saw the tattoo on your…”

“wha—when?” they gasp, hand immediately going to their lower back.

“that time you fell in that ditch after using up all your magic, so you… bathed in the—”

“okay, okay,” they cut him off with a wave of their hand, “fine, you can call me whatever you want.”

they hated to admit that it was cute, how he asked and he looked so happy when they agreed. he followed them to their home right after. they liked the sound of his chattering as well as the name he gave them. he wouldn’t stop calling them that, even after they told him their name.

“starlight, come look at this!” he would call.

“thank you, starlight.” he’d say with a smile.

“starlight,” he whispered about a year later, one night by the campfire as they both stared at the oddly coloured sky as they were talking about their lives back at home, “i really like you.”

“you’d think so, since you haven’t tried to kill me,” starlight jokes as they glance to him to see avior already looking at them, “i know, avior, that you like me. i can feel it radiating off of you.”

“oh, right…” he mumbles, looking back at the sky.

starlight stared at him. without thinking, they reach out a hand and brush a finger along his cheek. he froze up, immediately looking to them again. they smile, one of the genuine ones that avior rarely sees.

“i like you too, pretty boy.” they say, sincerity dropping off of their voice.

they could’ve sworn that his eyes lit up. it was as if his soul pushed against his irises, reaching out to let them in. starlight felt him lace his fingers with theirs as he turns over them and smiled.

“can i kiss you?” he asks.

“you really wanna’?” they chuckle.

“you’re the one who feeds off desire — you tell me.” he jokes back before he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to their lips.

starlight is unfamiliar with this feeling. this wasn’t their first kiss, of course, but it was the first one that felt like more than just a kiss. they could feel the way his heart pulsed when they reached up and held his cheek. they could almost taste the need to be close.

they didn’t peg him for the type of guy to go around just kissing anyone. avior meant every word, and he knows that he’d want them back in the old world too.

“never thought i’d make you speechless.” avior says as he lifts himself up enough to breathe. his hand tightens in theirs, and he feels their hand prod at the end of his shirt.

“only because i know you’re desperate,” they chuckle, feeling him shiver, “this is the only way to stop your annoying questions.”

“oh, of course,” he snorts back before kissing them a few more times, “starlight…”

they smirk against his lips. “doesn’t help with your whimpering, i see.”

he rolls his eyes before feeling their thumb brush against his cheek. when he looks back to them, starlight holds a soft expression.

they’re scared. they’ve never felt this way for anyone before, let alone in these circumstances. avior was sweet, a little timid at times, and he was great at listening when it came to their interests or life. they know for sure that he wants them, they can feel it every time they step closer to him. his core sung and starlight listened.

“i’ll show you everything when we get back,” avior claims in between kisses, “my apartment, the stupid coffee shop on the corner, everything.”

starlight, examining his heartfelt expression, knew that he was a romantic. he started to fall for them as soon as they exhibited some sense of care for him. they hated to admit it, but his careless nature only showed his eagerness to help. their heart warmed at his attempts to make them feel relaxed.

“that’d be nice.” they respond, fixing his hair. he smiled wider.

over the next year he managed to squeeze his way into their bed. starlight was against it at first, staying that the injuries he kept getting wouldn’t heal properly if he didn’t get good rest. but avior then claimed he slept better right next to them. they knew he was lying, but his pleading expression made them fold.

one night, they laid in their bed on their side, one arm under avior’s head and the other hand gently threading through his hair as he closed his eyes. every few seconds, starlight would trace along the gentle bruises along his neck, trying to provide some comfort after being a bit too ‘much’, even after avior’s pleads to continue. they felt him shiver.

“go to sleep, my love.” they whisper.

avior sighs, “i’m trying, baby.”

“i told you that sleeping by yourself would be easier on you.” they state whilst pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“i’m gettin’ all my tender loving right here though.” he tells them, wrapping his arms tighter around their torso.

“so clingy.”

“whatever.”

starlight rolls their eyes as they pull away enough to see his face from the slight light pouring through the curtains from the fire. his body still gave off heat, and his stupid smile made them grin too.

“what’s the first thing you’re doing when you make it out?” he asks them quietly.

“finding you,” starlight replies, “you said you were teaching at that empowered school, right? you think they’ll let me on campus?”

“i’ll plead my case,” avior chuckles, pressing soft kisses to their cheek, “you know, you opened your rift in the school park.”

“really?” they hum, “i guess you’re not a total idiot for falling into my rift.”

“if anyone’s the idiot, it’s you—”

“don’t push it, darling.”

he begins to draw circles on their back as he laughs. the ‘night’ in this world gave him ample time to stay in their arms, as during the ‘day’ the demon was always looking for a way out.

starlight stayed awake a little longer than him. there had to be something they could do. as a demon, they could spend forever in here with no consequences other than going out of their mind, but avior, he was a human. and despite how much they cared for the freelancer, they couldn’t watch him spend his days in this hell.

another kiss to his forehead, and starlight fell asleep.

the next day, they proposed their plan. and it went horribly.

the rift was laughing in their face as avior made it through to the real world. he was back on campus, as if nothing had happened. starlight was left in the world, on the brink of death, staring up at him. he was slow, he didn’t look back at them, but he was safe. he was up there and not down here with them.

all that starlight had to do was figure out a way to get there too.

the next two years did exactly what it was meant to — it drove starlight crazy. seeing him every say, doing nothing more than slowly move, made their heart ache. their bed was colder, the sky seemed foggier, because it was made that way.

the sovereigns needed them to follow their plan.

they were hurting, they cried for him every night and they knew that there was nothing worse than dragging him back into the rift. they repeated it in their head, a mantra to stop themselves; he was better out there, he was living the life he was supposed to live. he was happy and it didn’t matter that starlight wasn’t. he deserved it.

they felt selfish every time they thought about being here with him again. despite trying to focus on escaping, they could only ever think of avior.

“i’ll give you half of my life. however much i have left, half it and take it,” they say whilst in bed, alone again, “i… i just want to get hell out of here.”

their voice is hoarse after not speaking for a while. who could they talk to? sure, some comments were said out loud to themselves, but it wasn’t same. without avior’s headstrong rebuttals and his constant need for healing, they were really feeling the silence.

“take as much as my… magic or life force or whatever the fuck you want from me, take it and let me go,” they bargain, staring at the ceiling, “please. i can’t be in this shit show for another year.”

they squeeze the pillow against their chest, the one he used to sleep on.

i miss you, so much.

i miss your voice and how warm your hand is, and the way you laugh. i miss being with you. please, if there is any good left in the world, bring me back to him. i just want to know he sees me.

my love, avior.

they would never say this out loud. starlight never wanted the ‘higher-ups’ to listen to how much they missed the freelancer. if they knew how much they wished he was there again, perhaps they’d bring him back themselves. they couldn’t imagine how avior would react. the almighty powers couldn’t find out just how much their heart ached for him. it was a selfish thought to have.

the day that he was turned around enough for starlight to see his face, was the same day their heart sobbed even harder. so much so, that it forced starlight’s hand out and grabbed at his wrist, dragging him back in before they knew it.

his body was pulled through the rift, still warm from the travel when he landed on the floor, head to their chest to protect him.

“avior!” they called, heart leaping in their stomach.

his eyes were closed and his breathing was slowed to an even beat. they lifted themselves up, caressing his cheek.

“my love…” starlight whispered out, tears already pouring from their face, “i’ve missed you…”

the sheer sight of him in this world again made their head reel. he was truly with them again, finally. they hugged him tightly, practically sobbing into his chest as they held him. a few seconds past of the reunion, and then reality set in.

they lay him on the ground again, taking the grass out from his hair and rubbing the dirt from his clothes. he looked so peaceful. holding his hand, starlight kisses his knuckles, shaky breath.

fuck.

they fell for it.

the entities above wanted avior, starlight knew that, and they just brought him back. the two years they were alone, trying to get to him, was now put to waste. all the hardships they overcame, all the nights they wept for him, was for nothing.

they were stupid for thinking they could ever have him.

“i’m sorry.” they spoke into the void.

he didn’t shift closer into their touch as they held his cheek again. he winced.

they were unfamiliar, and that hurt. all the time they spent together was gone. they knew that for sure when he stirred awake and watched them with confusion and fear radiating off his core. starlight didn’t say anything at the start when he was conscious.

what could they say? that they dragged him back here because they were lonely? that they brought him into this suffering again so they could hold him?

it was selfish to bring him back.

but how their heart soared at the sight of him near. how they longed to kiss him again and be told that he wanted to have a life with them. part of starlight was just so overjoyed to have avior again. but the larger part despised the act.

why couldn’t they think of anyone other than themselves for once?

he couldn’t know what really happened. he shouldn’t.

so starlight made space between them and furrowed their brows, trying to give off an icy glare. their voice was harsh as they scowled at him.

“who the fuck are you?”

#i miss you avior #come back #redacted audio #redacted audio x reader #redacted audio x listener #redacted audio fooliverse #redacted audio avior #redacted audio starlight #redacted audio avior x starlight #avior x starlight #redacted audio fool! avior #redacted audio fool! starlight #redacted audio fool! avior x fool! starlight #fool! avior x fool! starlight

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