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thefanbasewhore · 3 years

Text

His

Prompt no. 31 from @sweeterthanthis's "Quote me on it" 6k writing challenge! - Suck me, beautiful. - Also sorry for all the repost! - tags problem

Summary || Bucky doesn't like when his things gets touched.

Paring || Biker! Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word count || 4,015

Warning || (18+, content) , degradation, slight dub-con (but not really, reader is willing), p in v, oral receiving , jealous!Bucky, - you have been warned.

Side note || shout out to my bestie @fuckandfluff for beta reading this for me <3

It is hard to miss his eyes, the way they darken just enough to show interest. Dark and shallow like the depths of the deepest canyon – shallow with no sign of life. Sparking in this little game of predator and prey but no one dares to make a move.

Tugging his lip between teeth the moment he catches your glance, smirking as flirty eyes run up and down your body but then back to his friend. His gaze is hot - pure lava that burns the skin, but it feels so, so good.

To have the attention of James Barnes, a man your mother would never approve of and other men cower to. He is beautiful, seafoam blue eyes that accompany strong features, and soft, pink lips to top it off.

You smile shyly, cheeks darkening under the gaze as top off the few coffees on at the bar. Bucky watches at the corner of his peripheral, casually conversing but cannot help but notice the way the man comes behind you, pressing a hand to the small of your back as he joins into the conversation.

Bucky leans forward, listening intensely as the hand slips lower and lower until it cups the curve of your ass. Bucky stands so fast with blurred vision, with one goal in mind; protect his girl’s honor but he watches the way your lips twitch into a polite smile as you throw your head back to laugh, quickly excusing yourself but not before catching the intense, darkening gaze of Bucky.

Two rather large hands grasp your arm, pulling you into the side pantry, located right before the kitchen doors with force.

"Wh-." You don't even get the chance to speak before being pressed against the wall - a heavy weight, chest crushing against your back. Soft, heavy breaths as a hand anchors your hip, pressing you harshly into the metal preparation table. A hand flat against your shoulder and lowers you down until your stomach touches the table, bending you to his will.

"You wanted this, didn't you, pretty girl?" He coos as the curve of his nose runs through your hair, taking a lungful of scent, floral mixed with strawberry shampoo and a hint of grease. You let out an exaggerated squeal as he pushes his hips deeper against your ass to feel the heavy thickness of his aching cock. "Oh, you did."

Calloused but gentle hands grasp your shoulders, running up and down the length of back as he presses a few meaningful kisses to your spine. "Want me to fuck you right here? Mmmm, you dirty girl."

"James, we can’t do this -."

"I'll do whatever I want." He hisses against your skin, "When I want to and there's nothing you can do about it."

Warm, smooth lips press into your shoulder following with a thick line of spit from his hot tongue and nipping teeth.

Nimble fingers dig into the skin of your shoulder, turning you around to face him with a deep scowl. A gentle hand cups your face - angling your eyes to meet his face, fingers soaking the skin of your hairline. He does not move, not breath fanning your face as he just stares.

So beautiful like this, flushed and hair messily forming knots from his hands and a few loose pieces stick to your wet skin. A cool hand against your neck releases a gasp from your lips but he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, nibbling on your bottom lip and molding his body into your own.

It is feverish, the way your hands raise to spread into his hair, feeling his breath hitch. A rough hand pulls at the blouse of your dress, exposing the heavy breast. Bucky presses his lips into your own watching as your eyelashes flutter close and inhale deeply.

"Sweet girl, tell me -." He rubs his harness roughly against you, nipping at the skin of your neck. "Did you like his hands on you?"

A whine gets stuck in your throat as harsh teeth nip at your lip with a growl and in response lean forward to connect the invisible line, but he stops you with the press of his fingers, but you continue to reach forward to split his lips open and slide your tongue in. Eyes tightening with envy, lips long and thinning as a result but it does not stop him from returning it, sliding his tongue against your own with ferocity.

Bucky huffs - hands falling to cup your ass, massaging the fat between his hand with a squeeze. "You're making it hard to stay mad at you."

Buck’s eyes flutter, eyelashes soothing the skin of your breast with a huff. He says for a second, evaluating the situation: his hardness throbbing, pressed between your creamy thighs.

“Buck..” The whine of his name wanting and feral shoots straight to his aching cock.

Fingers cup your chin and grip to watch lip’s part with want, while two metal fingers touch your tongue, sliding along the ridges of it until they reach the back of your throat, gagging around them but Bucky doesn't pull away instead holds them there, a cocky smirk pressing against your cheek with harsh kisses. "You don't get a say, keep your mouth shut, do you understand?"

"Yes, I'm sorr -."

"What are you sorry for? Tell me, sweet girl."

You try to speak but Bucky does not give you the chance, "Say sorry for being a little whore."

"Buck!" Two thick, cold fingers run along the underside of your breast, slow and antagonizing as they trail across the skin of your stomach to the hem of your panties teasingly.

The other hand - still wrapped around your hair pulls tightly, "I told you to say sorry."

"I'm sorry!" You whine and peer up into his eyes with a quivering bottom lip, only to be met with the intense dark gaze.

"For what?"

"Being a little whore." You whine pathetically, "I'm sorry!"

Two large fingers spread over your clothed pussy with a loud whine, pushing your hips into the working digits. "Please, please."

To your surprise Bucky moves closer, sinking to his knees with a few seconds of silence to commit the sight to his memory. Hips lift from the cool table as Bucky clicks his tongue under his breath, lips move agonizingly slow, hands cupping both of her breasts through the fabric of your bra feeling nipples react instantly, hard through the thin material of the shirt.

“I-I..” Tears of frustration, wet eyes, wanting to cry and beg but it would be no use. Not with those cold, daring eyes.

Bucky can't help but stare, the light-colored fabric left little to the imagination, dark hairs shape against it, the wet patching showing just how badly you want him.

With your eyes closed, it is practically sensory overload. Skin on fire, small bee stings follow the warmness of his touch. Ears twitch with heat, breath against the skin of your thighs as lips touch the inner skin. Buck makes sure to take his time, spreading the wetness around the bare mound with his thumb, throat dry and his mouth parting with want.

Eyelashes flutter with a moan, skin flushing pink with chest heaving with deep breaths, grinding your own desperate hips against his hand.

His hand leaves you completely with a loud protest, but it is cut short with a hand against your hip to flip you around onto your stomach, face pressing against the cool metal as the same hand digs into your right hip, dragging them high into the air.

His length is heavy, straining against the back of your thigh. Pressing a kiss to your lower back up to the bare skin of shoulder blades. The swirling and clanking of vibranium plates as a barbarous hand kisses the flesh of your ass, harsh and brutal with every clench of his jaw.

A gentle palm smooths the burning, reddening skin. His other thumb spreading across your clit, whining with the contact. His finger’s hook inside with no warning, filling you to the brink

The two fingers scissor against your walls, coat with her arousal that helps him trust them back into you again until they hit that spongy part that makes you squeal. The instant the sound leaves your lips, your hand cups your mouth to conceal the noise but he only slaps it away with threatening eyes, "I want to hear every single sound, understand?"

You squeeze around him, hips naturally fighting his own trust of his fingers. "You look so fucking good, moaning my name so everyone can hear you."

He groans at the tightness and it instantly sends shivers down his skin, electric shocks down his spine to his dripping cock, pre-cum smearing against the confides of his boxers, a wet patch seeping through the dark, jean material.

Fingers never lead up, filling and entering as soon as they left, over and over again until you feel a sudden snap, a wave of heat that curls inside your stomach, mouth ajar as Bucky quickens the pace, pressing soft kisses to your underthighs, watching his fingers move in and out. Lips sucking softly on the skin, huffing in frustration at his own arousal throbs to replace his fingers, watching as you drip into his fingers down his hand and your thighs.

“Buck!” it’s a warning to make him suck harder; fingers so good it makes you mewl.

“Cum pretty girl, give it to me.”

All it takes is seven words and his finger to milk you through your orgasm. Legs begin to tremble, his heart thumping inside his chest as your walls squeeze his fingers with a cry. "That's it, good girl."

Your chest falls and raises quickly against the table, but Bucky’s fingers do not leave the heat between your thighs. Blind fingers reach behind to palm his hardness, it's so gentle and it’s an experimental touch that makes him groan and heart flutter but he chooses to ignore it and grunt loudly.

He uses this time to look at you, completely soaked, begging for more as your thighs squeeze together.

"Greedy Girl, stop that."

Hands spread across the back of bare thighs, trailing to squeeze a large handful of your cheek. "You look so good like this."

His arms flexes and expands against your thighs again as fingers curl into the softness of them, anchoring himself as lips closing around your clit, suckling softly.

“Buck - wait!” it is a whine of surprise as his tongue flickers against the sensitive bundle and sinks into the gaping hole. His finger’s moving faster, pace increasing with every squeal, scream or sound that’s made.

His tongue does not let up from your clit as his fingers pushed deeper inside, purposely messaging the spot found in the deepest of your pussy, his cock throbbing at the thought of feeling it.

Hips lifting off the table trying to escape his brutal lips, but he does not allow it as his free hand fell to hips, roughly pushing you back down against the cool surface. “Stay.” The vibrations make you cry, begging for more.

Fingers curling in you to collect any juice they possibly could spreading against you as much as he could manage through the way your hips jolt, a soft mumble makes you moan.

The familiar feeling of heat building up and bubbling in your lower abdomen spreading warmth throughout your whole body as he continued to finger fuck you as fast he could. The heavenly sound of wetness dripping to his hand, covering his face and onto the table. “Give it to daddy, princess, I want more."

“I’m -.“ His name is like a prayer on your lips and his only reply is slamming his finger back into as hard as he could, lips puckering against your clit one more time. Eyes rolling back into your head as the delicious swirl of heat ignites deep inside your stomach and he sucks up everything he could manage.

The instant your body slumps, Bucky's fingers grab at your hips and presses a kiss against your lower back as you hear the jingle of his belt, pulling it from the loops before carelessly throwing it across the room.

His sweetness is short-lived as a hand cups your jaw, his chest pressing against your back with a whisper. "On your knees."

The shuffle from the table to the floor is easy, positioning yourself right in front of his crotch, he is hard, head poking through the top of his boxers easily visible from his unbuttoned pants.

"Suck me, beautiful..." Bucky peers down at you, using his digit to run along the line of you jaw - thumb pinching at the pit of your chin. "Open those pretty lips for me."

Despite the burning of your knees in contrast of the hard, tile floor you oblige, mouth parting as the skin of his appendage dips to your tongue, pressing hard on it. His other hand reaches down to pull his pants, along with the black briefs down his legs just enough to release him.

He groans as his eyes never leave your face - over the soft curve of your nose watching as your lips wrap tightly around it and suck.

"You are so sexy.." beautiful, round, doe eyes peer up at him as he wraps his free hand around his cock, tutting his hips into the tightness of his clasped hand.

He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, pressing the Bulbous head onto your lips. Lips parting to your mouth and stick your tongue out. "Such a good girl. You like sucking cock huh?"

"Yes." Lips closing around the head, sucking slightly but only for a fist to pull at your hair.

"Did I tell you to suck yet?" He snarls, eyes darkening, "Are you that much of a little slut? Or pretending it's his."

The last word he hisses, curling his fingers for he gains the upper hand and feels the knots of your hair fill the gaps between fingers. "I asked you a question, sweets."

"No." The pull that burns your scalp makes you moan in pain, the reply muffled by the heaviness of his cock still lying between open lips. "Not for him, for you."

"Really? Is that why you were letting him touch you, mm?"

"I didn't know - I thought you didn't want to -."

"Didn't want you? While else would I waste my time, mm?" He kisses his teeth with words laced with venom, "Are you that much of a dumb whore to realize?"

He doesn't give you the chance to answer, “Let me tell you what's going to happen, I'm going to fuck you and you're gon’a walk right up to him with my cum running down your thighs and tell him to fuck off, you're not interested, understand beautiful?"

"Yes." With a wanton cry as a wave of heat runs through your body, a soft hand reaching down to cup the softness of your breast. In response clench your tights to create some kind of friction between your throbbing cunt.

"What a dirty girl..." He loves to see the sight, the mess he makes of your big, innocent eyes on the floor of this dirty diner, ready to be fucked like a whore. "Suck it, gorgeous."

The angry bulbous head kisses your lips as a gentle thumb roams over your hairline, "Don't be shy now."

Lips part as Bucky's smell takes over your senses - the smell of soap and chapped, warmed leather as he hits the back of your throat, nose brushing against the dark ringlets of hair. He moans softly biting down on his lower lip as a he pinches the skin of your jaw to lift you head up, "Eyes on me."

Bucky gives a small thrust, just enough to make your eyes water and to fit the rest of his hard-on into your mouth. His fingers clutch the corner of the metal table as a small groan falls from his lips watching as you bring a hand up to cup his balls, not daring to take your eyes away.

"Trying to make up for being a bad girl, huh?" he taunts with a small gasp, but you ignore his teasing and bob your head up and down with precise, slow movements.

He's growing frustrated, face flushing a deep pink color, chewing on his bottom lip but it only gets interrupted by the loud moan every time you bob your head. His fingers burn the base of your skull, throat closing around his cock as you're forced to breath out your nose, but that's even hard as wet tears stain your face and gather above your cupid's bow.

"Enough.." The words are spoken through gritted teeth as if it hurt to mutter, but you don't even get time to think about it before a hand wraps around your arm, lifting you up and muttering, "On the table, hands and knees."

Bucky groans at the sight of you, skirt pulled up to your waist, pussy high with hips in the air for him. A rough hand kneads over the flesh of your ass check, the other one comes up to spank you so hard you cry as tingles of pain mix with pleasure to send goose bumps up your back. Lips coming down to pressing a small kiss against the harsh mark as it welts with pulsing pain, "You look so pretty marked by me, gorgeous girl."

A large hand guides down your back feeling the grooves of your spine against his own fingertips until his hand reached the back of your neck and with one hard grab forces your cheek against the table. Both hands start to knead at your cheeks, brushing over your soaked entrance, a lingering heat trails where his fingers touch, across the back of your thighs, your ass. Whining softly as he speaks, "Something tells me you don't want me here, you would rather it be him."

The click of his tongue tells you he’s disappointed, panic tearing through your throat as his finger moved further from where you need him most, tears of frustration prickling eyes as his hand pushes your head deeper into the table. “No! No – please touch me. I want it, need you so bad.“ With one last crack of your voice words spewing at any effort of some type of relief. "Do whatever you want to me, I'm yours, I'm yours."

The way he tenses and throbs between your ass cheeks is delicious. Not only does he affect you but judging by the way his chest does not dare move, drawing a huff of air at the words. Suddenly there is something soft against your back, a few gentle kisses that make your heart flutter.

Before you know it, Bucky pushes you up the table to make enough room to get onto it himself, kneeling between your thighs. His left leg against your inner knee, spreading you just enough so he can fit. Arching your back against him earns a loud warning - a rumble from his chest. "You take what I give you, understand?"

"Yes, I'm sorry."

He doesn’t give any warning, the act draws your breath away at the sudden feeling of a burning but pleasurable stretching causing a small gasp to fall from your swollen lips. With one callous thrust he splits you open, nudging that spot that makes jump forward but his hand cupping over your deltoid keep you grounded.

Bucky’s finger come behind to tease the bundle of nerves, making your whine as he sinks every inch of his cock until he is nestled so deep it’s hard to breath, it burns so deliciously. Mouth falling agape, cannot even manage to form words so he speaks instead, "So good, baby."

Buck’s hands rest against the swells of your ass, eyes tilting towards the filthy sight of him snuggly pressing into you, testing the waters with one deep, slow thrust. The sound you make is straight up sinful, makes him groan on his own accord as you clench around him.

Hips snap faster watching his cock disappear and reappear into your silky opening over and over again a wave of pleasure tingling his spine every time he hits the spot that makes you dumb. He wants to comment on it but the feelings of you squeezing him with every inch it's impossible to form words, especially the sight of his cock covered in your arousal. His thighs shake until they are numb, his stomach swirling with the familiar feeling building deep inside, body on fire. With every push of his hips, strokes are strong and harsh but hit that spot every. single. time.

The sounds falling from your lips don't help, mixed between pleasure and pain. He loves every second of it, rolling his lips as your pussy drips, smearing his thighs, droplets leaking down your own. His eyes never leave your ass - bouncing against this hips with squeals of his name.

"Shit, gorgeous." It is so sexy, so effortless the way you take him. Back arching pushing him deeper inside of you to hit that spot that makes you cry as a hand rest against the small of back giving him a better angle to fuck you senseless. “Bucky, holy fuck, so goood --."

Small crescents from his nails digging into the flesh of your hip as sweat beads across his forehead and chest, a wave of heat rushing over his body as he grows closer and closer. His thrust growing disorganized and haphazard forming a new pattern that makes your toes girl and he can barely get the words out as his head clouds, "Tell me you want it."

"I want it so bad, Bucky, please, please. Fill me up." It is so sudden, your orgasm hits you blindly with white, searing pleasure that makes small black orbs form in your vision. Bucky chokes at how hard you clench around him but continues to drive his cock deep inside you, milking you for all you have.

With the last of his trust he explodes, his cum lines your walls, filling you to the brink and stuffing you full. There's so much of it, it drips onto the table leaking between the both of you, but he doesn't dare move only peers down at you with those pretty blue eyes.

Sagging into the table and completely spent as a soft hand rubs your hair, fingers lovingly running across your hairline. He presses a kiss to your forehead, one against your cheek before cupping where his lips touched, angling your face to his own to press a soft kiss against your lips. With one last kiss to your nose, he helps put your arms back through the sleeves of your stress, sighing softly against your skin, "You okay?"

"Mmm." You agree, eyes shutting gently but only lean forward to press a kiss to his lips. "I'm yours, Buck."

"Yes, you are, honey." He promises and slides out of you with a hiss but that does not stop his eyes from dipping between your legs, smirking as you instinctually spread them, revealing the beautiful sight of him leaking from you. Two large fingers roam over the hood of your pussy, rubbing the folds before they split you open again. The sound that follows is filthy and he hums in response.

Those same fingers now prod against your lips, parting them open until the salty, blank taste invades your mouth.

"I want you stuffed in every hole, I want you smelling like me before you tell that asshole." You watch wide eyed and blank as he pulls up his pants and tucks himself back in. Pressing one more kiss to your lips before picking the panties off the ground shoving them into his pocket.

"Baby, I need those -."

"You didn't think I was serious huh?" Bucky chuckles darkly, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Oh, you're gonna tell him and everyone in this diner is going to know you're mine."

tags: @kpopgirlbtssvt, @slytherdorxmd, @sugarpunch-princess, @old-enough-to-know-better73, @maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals, @Fajitasandfics, @devilswaldorf, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123, @grubler, @SodDy030, @agent-catfish-kenobi,@scarletglowss, @abitchforbarnes, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @jewishdelis, @klorpski, @kaitieskidmore1, @peterpstuff, @akaaaaashiiii, @angelsandsorcery, @moony-is-bae, @yliumy, @watermelonsponge, @stolenxkissess, @peakascum, @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme, @crvecem, @likealadygodiva, @harrysthiccthighss, @burnerbitchh, @sergeantjamesbbarnes, @amelia-song-pond, , @Jallen0126

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic

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minniepetals · 4 years

Text

seek

❥⋆｡˚ anon said: Seek with dragon au. Welcome back! Also you're gorgeous btw ;)

˚₊· ━━ WORD PROMPT

[ seek ] for a muse to seek another for comfort

genre: dragon!au

pairing: bts x reader

word count: 875

˚₊· ━━ MASTERPOST

“Looks like we’ll be stuck here for the night. It’s too dark and dangerous to continue flying in the storm. When the rain stops falling, we’ll continue on our way again but until then, we’ll rest here.”

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Yoongi turns to you after Namjoon makes the decision to camp in the cave for the night. You visibly shiver in sight, your arms hugging yourself at the way the wind flies in and causes you to sneeze. “Come closer to the fire, you’ll catch a cold.”

You obey his orders and sit yourself near the fire Jungkook had made in order to keep the cold away. “At times like this I wish I was a dragon,” you say, letting out a sigh as you watch the way the fire waves and dances before you. Suddenly you hear the sound of something that seems like a stick being stepped on and jump in your seat. “W-what was that?”

“It’s literally just the sound of the fire crackling, idiot,” Jimin rolls his eyes while Taehyung snickers.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark?” Jungkook laughs.

“That’s so cute of you,” Taehyung joins in.

You frown at their words, huffing slightly with a pout as you can feel the heat of your cheeks rising with embarrassment. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” the eldest of the dragons let out an exasperated sigh before giving the three younger ones a pointed look which has them turning their attention away. He turns to you with a kinder gaze. “Don’t bother letting their words get to you. They mean well.”

“Plus there’s nothing to be afraid of when the seven of us are here with you,” Hoseok chimes in just as kind. “You don’t have to worry about anyone or anything harming you. We’re right here to protect you.”

Jungkook grunts at those words. “You’re spoiling the human girl too much.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to spoil our precious Y/N, right?” When Seokjin’s eyes fall to yours with just a soft gaze, you can feel your cheeks rising in color once again and quickly avert your gaze to the ground before you.

How is it that it’s so easy for him to say such sweet things when you know he doesn’t mean much by them? You know it means nothing yet you can’t help but feel your heart accelerating against your chest.

Ah, you hate this.

“You’re still cold,” Yoongi notes with worry. “Is the fire not helping?”

“No, it—” You hear a strange sound coming from the cave and let out a small little squeak as your body jumps and you find yourself right next to Namjoon who was sitting to your right.

“Relax,” the leader tells you in a calm voice. “That was just the wind, nothing is going to hurt you as long as we’re around.”

“Well yeah but,” you look up at him with your brows furrowed and eyes filled with fear and worry. “It’s just so cold and dark and scary, I don’t...I don’t think I can rest that easily tonight. I…” you give him a sheepish gaze as you lightly tug onto the hem of his shirt, hesitant on wanting to ask him something. “Can I…”

Namjoon gives you a sigh but he spreads his arms out for you anyways. “Come here,” the dragon says and although you were the one who was hoping for just that, it surprises you how easily he is willing you give you comfort.

“Wait, uh...r-really?”

His gaze remains cool and calm without falter. “You wanted it, right?”

“But..” you look towards the others who don't really look that bothered, causing you to wonder why when the seven of them are lovers and you’re basically just an outsider to them.

“I’ll just be holding you to keep you warm until you can fall asleep without fear.”

You take a moment to think about it but realize maybe it’s the best thing to do since you know you can’t fall asleep like this and turn back to Namjoon with some resolve.

They watch you as you let yourself crawl up to him and feel his arms wrapping themselves around you in such a gentle manner. It almost feels as if you fit right in there like a puzzle piece and you can’t help but to snuggle yourself right up to him.

You let out a light giggle that makes Namjoon’s heart beat rapidly against his chest while nuzzling your head against his chest.

You’re quite bold for someone who was just blushing at Seokjin’s little flirtatious moment.

“I knew it,” he hears you say, “dragons are so warm. I just want to stay here forever.”

“Go to sleep,” Namjoon sighs and hears your hum of approval soon after.

When he looks up to meet his lovers’ gazes, there is a notice of recognition he sees in their eyes, the feeling of envy, the feeling of that certain desire he knows all too well.

Namjoon holds you closer against him, liking this, wanting more of this. “Goodnight,” he whispers to you and presses a small kiss to your hair as if making a vow that one day soon, they’ll make you theirs.

#wbm game #bts drabble #bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly!au #poly bts #bts dragon au #bts dragon #bts dragon!au #dragon!bts #bts fantasy au #bts x reader #bts ot7 x reader

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soldmysoultootomeboys · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can I request headcannons for the human brothers accidently summoning an angel mc instead of a demon and the angel mc insisting on sticking around and helping them?

The other brothers: :) Satan: >:)

This has been in the drafts for too long. I really love the absolute mood switch between Lucifers and Mammons. And just Satans in general ig.

Lucifer

After years of religious trauma at the hands of his father Lucifer finally thought he was free of any connection to the church. Summoning a flaming seraphim at 3 in the morning was not a pleasant way to find out that he was wrong.

As for you, being summoned for the first time in your long long life was an unwelcome surprise. You were a seraphim for heaven's sake. The cream of the crop, highest of the high, and that wasn’t pride speaking only facts. You were crucial to running the celestial realm.

But somehow you’re undeniably tied to his human. You could feel where his soul became intermeshed with your very essence. How wrong it felt to be tied to something so mortal, and delicate, and free.

Any attempts to leave would surely be met with disaster.

So you stay. Lucifer is cold. You can’t blame him. Being there reopens old wounds that he’d rather have remained closed. But just ignoring each other isn’t going to work.

He’s not interested in the celestial realm, and despises any blessing you try and give him, but a fresh cup of coffee during an all-nighter seems to make him brighter than any magic you could do and when you run your hands through his hair he looks at you with more fondness than you can comprehend.

You learn to be more human. He learns to let go of the past.

And one day you find that you don’t want to leave anymore.

For celestial sake that thought should as well be treason! But it’s true.

It’s a spring afternoon and Lucifer plays celestial lullabies on his piano and you want nothing more than for the beautiful night to come so you can sweep him in your arms and remind him how he glows.

You don’t know what is right and what is wrong anymore, but you know that this human is yours and you are his. To rip off your wings would be to find solace in his arms. But you can not give him that. This he knows.

So you promise to protect him, in words he can’t hear but he understands. The spread of your wings shield him from the world and you press blessings to his skin in the shape of the crescents in his back and your lips on his neck. If nothing else you’ll keep him safe. When the world seems too big and the stress of his life gets him down you’ll always be here for him to crawl back to. You can give him that much.

Mammon

That was it

You had to have been assigned the stupidest human in the world

When you were promoted to guardian angel you kinda thought it would be more ‘protecting orphans’ and ‘guiding lost puppies back home’ NOT watching a grown man spend his last paycheck on his eighth Nigerian prince scam

Seriously mammon? Did the prophetic dreams you sent mean nothing? The visions of the future he coincidentally had after hitting his head on a light post, only simple illusions? What more could you try beyond simply marching down their and clocking him on the head yourself?

...unless

Raphael would have your wings if you went to the human world. But that would be a lot less painful that having to watch whatever Mammon was going to do with all the rubber cement he just bought.

The next morning you decide to sneak down. The city was amazing, all colored light and fun machines that whizzed by you on the streets

But you had to stay focused

You were an angel on a mission

You made your way towards central park. Mammon went there every morning to swindle tourists out of their wallets. If you were fast you’d get there before the first patrol office started chasing him.

Spotting the albino you marched straight towards him, readied yourself, and smacked him over the head.

Maybe not very angel-like but it worked.

One introduction later and you're officially a guardian angel

Mammon’s actually pretty nice once you get to know him. Sure he may be a bit too obsessed with lining his pockets but for all his talk he never hesitates to try and help you out.

Consistent affection and care is good for him. He never really knows how to react when you wrap your wings around him but even with his tsundere objections it's obvious he’s pleased.

He’ll take whatever scraps of affection you’ll give him and practically beams at every little gesture you do, no matter how small or insignificant.

You do have to be careful though.

At his request you had attempted to bless him with a bit of luck. An easy enough spell for an angel like you (even if you were 90% sure he planned to go gambling after). Whatever scheming he’s doing immediately stops the moment you cup his face. He seems to freeze when you lean in, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek

You were about to congratulate yourself on a spell well done when you noticed the condition he was in. He was like a living statue, a statue with a very very red face

Before you can ask what was wrong he flails pushing you away and darting off to his room

Any attempts to speak to him the rest of the day were met with incoherent shouting.

It might be best to withhold any magic until you can figure out how humans work

Levi

Once again Levi’s dedication to anime gets him into trouble

It started with his most recent obsession, a new anime that follows a group of angels, produced by the famous company, Dove. The plot, the animation, the soundtrack, all of it was amazing so when they came out with a new limited edition item featuring the very symbol that the main character wore he just had to have it

The moment it came he was setting it up on its own altar, a handmade replica just like in the show only for- Oh no

Before his eyes burst a shining visage of light and then you

You blink in surprise, whether it's from taking a human form for the first time in decades or the strange new room you were in, only you know

The scene may be foreign but the guy quivering on the floor was not

BE NOT AFRAID

Your booming voice echoes around the room

For some reason the guy begins to freak out even more

Didn’t he see your halo? You even told him to not be afraid. Were humans really so strange? :(

Oh well. You hum making your aura as comforting as possible and slowly the guy calms down enough for you to coax him into a seat as you begin to explain.

Which might not have been the best move.

The moment it sunk in he was bombarding you with questions

Yes you were an angel, no you didn’t know what anime was, yes you had wings, no you didn’t have any secret ultimate moves...whatever those were

He ranted and raved over this and that and you let him. He seemed like he needed someone to talk to. It also let you piece together what had happened.

He seemed to be a natural sorcerer, and a powerful one at that if he could someone an angel with no training or even knowledge that he could do magic

Just a few minutes in his presence made his self loathing obvious. Mix in a bit of anxiety and envy and you essentially have Levi in a nutshell

So you decide to stay

What kind of angel would you be if you just left him here? Michael would understand.

Or he wouldn't, it didn’t really matter because you already made up your mind.

Living with Levi is an experience for both of you.

He introduces you to so many new things. He had little boxes that could control light and screens containing actual people to talk to. It was all quite fanciful

In return you act as his friend, encouraging him to go out with you and attending cons with him, even if you still weren't exactly sure what cosplaying is

Slowly he begins to open up for you

He’s still nervous to go out in public, and a complete introvert at heart.

But that was fine. You could both figure out this new world together, at your own pace

Satan

Definitely was not trying to summon a demon to lay havoc on his enemies

Nope, not him he says all while trying to casually kick away vials of mysterious fluids

...Right

You’ve been down to the human world enough to know a demon summoner when you see one

Or in this case a failed summoner

He has no excuse for why he called you and instead seems more insistent that you leave

As much as you you might like to return to the celestial realm, you cannot in good conscience leave a man that you know is going to try and raise hell on earth the moment your gone

So you stay, and it's a good thing you do

This man has anger issues like no other

You thought Raphael was bad this guy is like a demon himself

However he seems willing to try and make the best of what he considers a bad situation

He asks you a lot of questions on the celestial realm

For a guy who knows so much about the devildom he seems to really be lacking on any knowledge on the other celestial beings

He mostly asks you questions on the celestial war, which is a touchy topic at best and downright upsetting at worst

He’s very interested in your opinions as your point of view is very different from his own, what with being a different species and everything

You learn things too, mostly about humans and cats but you suppose its a fair trade

Because of this you become close friends

You really win him over when he finds out your calming aura naturally attracts the stray kittens Satan's been trying to pet for the last few months

It’s not uncommon to head out to late night coffee shops and discuss the merits of different aspects of your lives

But maybe you’ve gotten a bit to close when he starts asking you to revise his summoning notes

Asmo

Apparently a lifetime of partying has prepared Asmo for some very weird discoveries

When you're sent down to the human world you have one job, find and keep an eye on the potentially dangerous summoner who's been in contact with multiple high level demons in the past few days.

Instead you end up meeting Asmo

You were prepared for a fight, not to be tackled into a hug the moment you revealed yourself

Asmo on the other hand is squealing with excitement

Sweetie, he's been waiting for this moment! This is his first time meeting an angel after all

He immediately begins talking about everything he wants to do

You quickly find out that he hasn’t made any pacts...yet, if only because he “couldn’t bear to damage his skin with such an ugly mark”

...Well you suppose that's a reason to not sell your soul

Even thoughts he's aware of the three realms it doesn’t make him any less enamoured with you

He’s never met an angel, he’s quick to mention. He’d love to get to know you, if you get what he means ;)

Are all humans so upfront?

If you decline he still wants to see your true form, even after you explain that no, if you transform you will not just be a beautiful angel with wings but instead a glowing mass of eyes and feathers and angelic light that will probably end up blinding him

Blinded because of your beauty ;) ;) ;)

That said he’s easily satisfied when you just bring out your wings.

He loves fussing with them and decorates them with jewelry and roses whenever you leave them out

He even starts an angel trend on insta after posting a photo as if they were coming from his back instead

Claims your glowing aura is great for his skin

You’re not sure if that’s a pick up line or if he’s serious but he definitely basks in your presence

Loves when you talk about the celestial realm, somewhere he desperately wants to go

I mean it's the only place that's fit for a beauty like him right? But of course he can’t die yet, his fans would be sooo upset

You agree to bring him up there one day, even if that sounds a little morbid

Of course he asks you to become his guardian angel

That may not be your actual job but you can’t resist his puppy dog eyes

You and him go pretty much everywhere together, bar some more xxx rated sites

He introduces you to parties and bars, and while you don’t indulge it's enjoyable to see humans in their natural element. They’re so fun and free spirited just like Asmo

Maybe that's what attracted you to him in the first place

He loves life for what it is, something so admirably human

But you don’t slack off either. You take your role as Official Guardian Angel seriously. You guard his drinks when he goes to the bathroom, and hum celestial lullabies when he’s sad and escort him down dark alleys when walking home. He has nothing to fear with you around.

You’ve become very fond of this human. Perhaps you’ll stick around a bit longer than you planned

Beel

It’s rare to be assigned to a human so...mundane

But that’s exactly what Beel is. He goes to the gym in the mornings, works a nine to five, and comes back home to his dog

He even has a good relationship with this family, do you know how hard that is to find in this day and age???

The only thing even slightly abnormal about this guy is his appetite

He could put a gluttony demon to shame with the way he eats

But the point is you really can’t figure out why you’ve been assigned to him or how your supposed to guide him

Eat a little less? Stop stealing your brother's lunch?

It’s the first time in a long while you’ve been so stumped

So you do what any sane angel would, go down to the human world to meet him yourself

He’s a likeable guy and it’s easy to get close to him, more so do to your angelic status

Although it’s surprising how well he takes the whole angel revelation

To be honest your pretty sure he forgets most of the time

He tends to follow you around, especially at night when he insists on walking you to wherever you need to be. It’s sweet even though there's little that can really harm you in the human realm

You quickly realize that he’s the type to have nightmares, usually calling out for one of his brothers or his sister

It’s become habit to wake up and head to his room

Just being there seems to calm him down

The first time he wakes up when your doing this he ends up asking you to stay

Isn’t shy about sharing the bed either.

He’s easy going so goes along with whatever idea you have

Especially when he starts finding snacks in his bag, each one blessed for a good day or to stay full or whatever little thing you thought of that day

Belphegor

Humans can’t see angels. Not unless they want to be seen, you remind yourself for what must be the tenth time.

But you’re almost certain that guy is looking right at you.

Step to the left, his head follows

To the right, his eyes narrow looking at you like your some puzzle he just hasn’t figured out yet

…this was fine

You turn around pretending to just not see him in hope that he’ll get distracted by something else

...you glance back. Why was he still looking at you? What is with this creep?

Enough is enough.

You march over there ready to ask what his problem is. Instead he beats you to it.

Eh? You’re an angel right? He asks before you can say anything.

???? Shouldn’t he sound more shocked.

The guy just sleepily blinks. He doesn’t look like a sorcerer or a witch, in fact you can’t feel any magic from him at all.

You go to ask only to realize he’s sound asleep. It’s not like you could just leave him here. And at the same time a human who can just see angels is an oddity of itself.

You decide to hang around for a while. Belphegor doesn't mind. He only says something about it being "too troublesome to drive you off," and "you'd look like you'd just come back anyways"

Belphie sticks to you like glue, if glue was absolutely insufferable and seemed to enjoy annoying you at every possible moment

You would think this would be easy. I mean he sleeps all day and when he’s not sleeping he’s napping. Simple enough right? Wrong

When he was awake he was committed to pushing every single button you have

If it seemed like it might inconvenience or annoy you he was already doing it. Trying to smack your halo, pounce on you, or even jump off the roof just to see you scramble to catch him. He was like some terrible terrible cat

Luckily he was never energetic for long. When he wore himself out he’d retreat to the roof of his crappy one bedroom and wait for you to join him

He liked to look at the stars and he’d point them out to you. Orion, Polaris, Sirius, he would mutter, bringing you back to the days when Michael, who was once so fond of you, would sneak you down to the human world just to show you the stars and darkness the celestial realm could not offer

When he finally got tired you would take over reciting Celestial names and marking the sky with your finger just to show him where they’d be.

Those times were pleasant. Even if they were brief.

“I’m gonna jump.”

“Do it.”

“You’re an angel. Aren’t you supposed to stop me before I do something stupid?”

“You won't.”

“Aight. Bet.” Belphie pitches forward and you just manage to catch him by the leg before he falls off the roof.

Brat.

Always ruining a good moment.

You can’t even be mad. The moment you pull him up he’s already resting his fluffy head in your lap waiting for you to pet him.

He may be the most troublesome human in the entire three realms, but he’s your human

#obey me #obey me hc #angel au #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me shall we date #obey me au #angels #obey me angels

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ignitification · 4 years

Text

Midoriya Izuku - Green for Hope, Red for Burning Passion

I always asked myself why exactly Horikoshi has changed Midoriya's character design so drastically.

Indeed, we go from a character called Yamikumo who looks like a feral child with the bad habit of eating his nails off, and drinks more coffee than humanly possible to an anxious bunny who smiles awkwardly and does not know how to accept compliments.

To me, the difference is absolutely insane. Izuku's hair and eyes are uniform and reflect his character and surname. However, a thing that I find peculiar is how the dark (Black/Green) and the Red theme are a constant throughout particular tellings of his character.

The legendary red shoes are one of Deku's main features. It's part of his character. However, I just got to think why exactly (especially having an idea on why was green used for him) and I think that the answer might be very very banal. However, I do think that this is not the only reason.

First of all, there is the most simple reason which I could think of: Midoriya Izuku is described as plain. In my opinion, plain does not really define Midoriya but the concept of him being bland and capable of melting into background is fundamental to express him in the most little details (however, there are few things which inwardly contradict this description: first and foremost his freckles). But as it might be, and Midoriya is indeed considered not worthy look at for more than once (at least as described in the manga - which is also one of the reason why his design has been changed so much, as Yamikumo had literally zero chance to go unnoticed), it appears clear how this suppression of character, of wanting to relegate Mido to a background role is what instead pushes Izuku forward to make a bold choice of something like wearing red shoes. They are strikingly particular, and noticeable: which means that Midoriya is not happy about being an npc, but instead wants to be noticed and in some way stand out.

The second reason, which I mulled over if was relevant enough is All Might. A recurrent color in all All Might's costumes is Red (and Blue, which kind of reminds of Superman and the American Flag. A fact that I found interesting as well if how AM wears Blue, Yellow and Red while Midoriya wears Green and Red, and of course Blue and Yellow together form Green).

And finally the third and final reason (at least, for now) is that Red, as a colour reminds Deku of Kacchan (even if arguably, we see in the first panel of the manga how Izuku wore already his shoes so this might be false and instead it might refer to the fact that Red is Izuku’s favourite colour only), who we know he associates with victory. As the mental image of Kacchan, who was red eyes, is his substitute for him being able to stand proud, strong and capable to win, Izuku might want to express this strive to be strong.

But what do these two colours mean, stand alone ?

As for Green: this colour, in different cultures, is associated with "Hope" . I think here the main gist and general going is that Midoriya represents Hope for the Heroes, Hope for the Unwanted, the Broken and the Damned (the Villains). I talked about Izuku being a Symbol of the New Society here, but in short, with Izuku Midoriya being fundamentally associated to the colour green, I think Horikoshi wants to express two things: how Izuku never loses hope (to be a hero, to have a quirk, to be a friend to Katsuki who bullied him for years or Shouto who straight up challenged him even before getting to know him, to reach and to save everyone) and how he represents and spreads hope for others (Eri, Kouta, the same Todoroki and Katsuki).

Green indicates life, renewal, harmony and safety. Which, in this sense, points out Izuku's nature as a person and how he is bound to feel restless unless he provides comfort to everyone, and that desire to save desperately anyone who he can reach. Green is a calming and soothing colour. It also stands for prosperity, freshness and progress - which point out not only the conclusion of Deku being N1 Hero, but as well at him 'changing up' the society and becoming the Symbol of Hope and Change (on which I briefly touched upon here).

However, on a negative side it also stands for Greed (wanting to be a hero and follow AM steps even when he had a hard time adapting his body to his new quirk) and Envy (Bakugō first and foremost and the generally heroes and those who has time to wield their power properly). In this negative meaning of the colour, I think Izuku’s selfless nature comes to the surface even more: how he feels bound to feel negative emotions which spur his renewal and development (after all, he did unlock Black Whip after Monoma had insulted Bakugou), but at the same time use this emotion toward a bigger goal (him being mad at Shigaraki, but at the same time wanting to save him - I wrote about this too here).

Green, is, finally, the colour of the Heart chakra: an expression of how Midoriya puts everything before him, because his heart cannot take the selfishness of thinking of himself first, which also come hand in hand with his sacrificing nature and reminds of his name meaning and the association made with the number 9. Indeed, “Opening the Heart chakra allows a person to love more, empathise, and feel compassion” - which in short, stands for an externalisation of Mido’s personality.

On a shorter note, in Japan, the colour green represents youth, eternity, vitality and energy - which, in its own way is both a confirmation and a denial to other references made in Izuku’s character, such as his dangerous nature, him not being concentrated to live on for more than he is allowed to fulfil his duty (him being tied to number 9 and so on), and at the same time it reminds us of OfA, as it gains more power and energy and at his cheery, youthful persona.

As for Red, as the colour of Blood, it also stands to indicate '' Danger, Sacrifice, Courage" (which reconnects to his name's theory and numerology, of which I talked about here, in short).

In addition, red is usually used to professionally gain attention (it's hard to miss something so bright) and convey confidence. We know for a fact that Deku has been wearing red shoes since he was a kid (or at least, since he met Bakugō, which coincides with Izuku being four) and that despite being Quirkless, he always showed courage in standing out to people even when they thought of him as 'inferior' because on his unusual condition.

Among other negative meaning, there is an overflow of temper, anger, agitation, and overbearing, demanding and oppressive behaviours. As clear as day, these characteristics relate more to fiery Katsuki than Deku, but as stated before, Deku puts Katsuki as model and adapts his combat style to resemble Katsuki’s. So, this overflow of energy and action is a double-edged sword which affects both Katsuki and Izuku in different ways (and is mellowed out in Izuku’s character by his other soothing characteristics , but more on that later).

Also, Red, in Asia is a lucky colour which might (or not) hint at how, despite everything Izuku got his 'lucky' chance to inherit AM's power and follow his dream of becoming a hero. Particularly, in Japan this colour is associated and denotes strength, passion, self-sacrifice. A transmission of feeling as complex and empowering as the ones Deku fills while he is living his everyday life as a future hero, summed to his nature and inherited quirk.

Red is also a magical and religious color. It symbolized super-human heroism to the Greeks and is the color of the Christian crucifixion, which might be as meaningless as other things, but in this case it might greatly relate to the type of enormous power Izuku tries to reign in, and to the self sacrificing spirit which he proves again and again.

So far, the meanings of the colours which have been associated with Deku are in line with his name, his personality and even the storyline which has been drawed out.

Among other meanings red represents power, courage, energy, passion, and creates physical effects such as enhanced metabolism, enthusiasm, higher level of energy (which comes back to the initial reasons on why Deku chooses Red as a distinct colour for himself and his shoes).

The color red is linked to the most primitive physical, emotional, and financial needs of survival and self-preservation.

Finally is also the colour of leadership, determination and courage. So in short, the colours red, where it indicates energy, action and strong emotion-filled desires and aspirations, is also weak to overbearing aspects which transform empowerment into negative traits (which is what, in the end, is represented by Bakugou). It is also strong-willed and can give confidence to those who are shy or lacking in will power (the shoes in Deku’s case).

Red is the colour of the First (or Spine) Chakra and usually allows a person to be grounded and connect to universal energies, while Green is the link between spiritual and material.

What do these two colours mean in association with each other?

Onto how these two colours are related to each other, especially considering the premises made, we see that Red (life-giving properties, trust, belonging and violence) and Green (health, eternity, youth and greed) are not only opposites, but they complete and balance each other out. Indeed, to reign over emotions and actions, to red is usually added green which indeed is a pain-relieving patch for red’s intensity (the theory of Bakugou and Deku being two sides of the same coin are thriving).

Midoriya Izuku is an intense person. His personality allows him to balance out his power with a selfless nature, and while he himself is sweet and caring, his fiery eyes (and shoes) express for him his utmost sincere feelings, which deep down are very telling. As mentioned before, Izuku responds to Monoma when he insults Bakugou and makes a jab at how actually Bakugou is the one who ultimately terminated AM, by unlocking a new dangerous and powerful quirk, which is so powerful and fiery, and red in his intensity, that they need Shinsou’s intervention to actually calm him down.

Izuku is a overly protective person: he has forgiveness as a foremost characteristic and even if he does mention how he will not forgive Shigaraki for what he has done, on second though he realises that even a ‘monster’ like Shigaraki deserves to be saved, and therefore his other nature takes over.

Therefore, the coexistence of these factors, and his personality are probably at the origin of why Midoriya has had such a drastic make-over before becoming Midoriya Izuku, and why the colours of Red and Green are fundamental in the description which lets us have a full picture of Midoriya as an individual: something who is full of hope and energy, striving to express whisk power and passion while trying to concern only himself with the danger that comes with his mission to save everyone.

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years

Note

Oh dear, please, we need a part three to the Silva x specialist!reader, because part two kind of broke my heart. Please please give us more to this story!

Part one // Part two

Pairing: Saul Silva x specialist!reader

===============================

“You made your choice Saul. These are the consequences.”

The words played on loops until madness settles in his head. He can hardly breathe, each breath coming in short, piercing gasps in desperation followed by a thundering heart’s attempt to break through the bony confines of his rib cage.

“Did I mean anything to you at all?” Her voice is low, oddly calm in this emotional storm she’s struggling to contain.

If she was a fairy, she would have let her chaos explode. In a way, Y/N envied the fairies for that particular reason - no one expected them to keep a leveled head at all times. They were allowed to show emotion even if it was dangerous as hell.

Specialists were denied the same privilege, often suppressing their emotions - love, sadness, rage, all of it was buried deep under and she hated it. She hated using logic instead of her heart - the same heart that ached for the man before her even after he had betrayed her.

But did he betray her?

After all, he wasn’t hers.

Swallowing thickly, Saul’s eyes harden despite the inner turmoil of his heart pleading with his mind to stop the act. His head had determined that the relationship would be highly inappropriate and asking Y/N to wait until graduation, for the next three years? That would be cruel.

“You’re my favorite student.” Saul manages to say as if each word didn’t tear into him.

After a year of getting to know Y/N, he couldn’t imagine loving another and yet he had to let her go. He’s not much older than her, but he’s old enough to know better. She deserves to experience the joys of being young and unattached, especially not to men like him who still had so much to prove and baggage that would steal her peace of mind.

Snorting, Y/N chuckles dryly. Shaking her head with her hands on her hips, she turns to the door with a determination Saul found terrifying, but also pain that etched itself into his memory for the rest of his life.

“You’ll come to regret this moment, Saul. I promise you that.” Standing at the door, she stares at him with an inkling of hope. She’s hoping he’ll stop her from leaving. She’s hoping he will give in, just for a night and admit how he feels.

“Go”, Saul tells her when in reality, he’s hoping she doesn’t. He’s hoping she stays and tells him to stop being a coward. He’s hoping she screams at him, because if she’s angry then it means one day they might have a chance.

But she doesn’t. She nods to herself as if she had been given what she needed to leave and forget about him. The sight of his lips on another didn’t turn her away, but this conversation had ended their relationship before it ever began and Y/N knew the years to follow would be difficult.

Unfortunately for Saul, he’ll never manage to forget her.

Being Saul Silva’s student will make it immensely difficult to forget him, but Y/N won’t let him see how hard it is for her. She refuses to be weak with him ever again.

Consequences. It’s all he can think about now as he sits with his back against an old tree, shivering as the infection clouds his mind and the blood loss weakens him further.

The consequence of his actions have lead to him being alone when facing certain death. He’s alone and he has so much to tell her, to explain he never felt complete since the day she left the academy.

“Will you tell her now?” Farah steps beside Saul, a small smile upon her lips. “She’s leaving tomorrow. She’s no longer a student.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to her.” Saul sighs as his eyes linger on Y/N and the newest boyfriend she has wrapped around her little finger.

It’s been very difficult to watch others have her in all the ways he wished he could. Y/N had never once been single during her time in Alfea while Saul remained in the shadows, watching over her.

He had stepped in once when one of her boyfriends seemed interested in taking advantage of her while drunk, but she’ll never know it was him who carried her to her room and watched over her until morning. It’s the one night he remembers feeling helpless, scared for her.

Y/N never needed him before or after that night.

“She might want a say in how your story ends”, Farah warns him but Saul knows that he had hurt her. He hurt her more than he ever thought was possible. She tried to hide it, but he knew.

“I’m not good enough for her, Farah. She deserves more and I can’t give it to her.”

She was his student, the best he’d ever had. She was there and he’d often feel her lingering, longing gaze on him whenever she believed he couldn’t see her. Maybe she thought he just didn’t notice her, but he did. He was painfully aware of every touch they shared in training, of the way her heart would speed up whenever he needed to show her the proper way of performing certain movements he was sure she could do without help.

But she was leaving and he won’t stop her. She’s spreading her wings, she’s making all her dreams come true. She’ll do all the things she wanted without him there holding her back. He wants nothing more than for her to take the world by a storm and he’d silently be cheering her own.

He hopes she’ll find happiness, even if it’s without him.

But as she turns to him, her eyes meeting his, Saul can see she’s not happy as he watches her go.

“She’ll thank me one day”, Saul straightens up, keeping his head high. Y/N can’t see the sliver of hope lingering in his desperate eyes, the kind of hope that makes him believe this isn’t the end of their story at all.

Saul had held his hand to the slash, but no matter the pressure he applied the blood had still gushed between his fingers and oozed under his hand. At first it came thick and strong, flowing through his fingers as they clasped the ripped flesh. He felt the blood move over his hand, the thick fluid no warmer or cooler than his own skin. After a few moments more the blood was still leaving his rapidly paling flesh, but the pulses were slower, weaker.

Once the fairies found him, he felt himself hope again. Even if he’s to die to the infection, maybe Y/N will see him before he’s lost. Maybe he’ll tell her he loves her and he’s loved her all this time. Maybe she’ll take pity on him and tell him she loves him back, even if it’s a lie.

He held tightly onto the young fairies helping him back to Alfea. He grits his teeth to stop himself from crying out in pain.

While Saul was being dragged into Alfea, Y/N stood by Sky and Stella who seemed shaken up. Stella’s eyes widen as Y/N follows her line of vision only to feel the color draining from her face. Her heart sinks, her breath caught in her throat as she leans over the bannister with mouth open in shock.

Y/N wants to call out to Saul, to have him look up and smile to reassure her, but she can’t make a sound. Her legs move on their own as she runs, the last conversation playing in loops until it’s madness in her head.

Once again, Y/N is jealous of the fairies and their ability to show emotions. A fairy could cry out and no one would scrutinize them for it. Y/N couldn’t cry even if she wanted to. She had been taught not to.

She nearly falls to her knees as she opens the door to the greenhouse, finding Saul had lost consciousness and the blood was gushing from his wounds without signs of stopping.

Reacting on instinct, she grabs the gauze and presses it against his skin with shaky hands. She can’t hear the voices around her, but she’s applying pressure on Saul’s wounds with quivering lips forming his name like a silent prayer, over and over as if it could save him.

Tags: @organabanks

Part 4

#saul silva x reader #saul silva #saul silva imagine #saul silva angst #fate the winx saga #fate the winx saga fic #fate the winx saga fanfic

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atc74 · 4 years

Text

Eye of the Beholder

Warnings: Poor body image (?), slight angst, a little envy, a lot of fluff, and implied sexy times

Summary: Jensen is feeling less confident in himself lately and you think you know why. He has always been there for you, now you just need to show your husband he has no reason to be.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 1470

Written for: @breakthezone first quarter challenge, which was to choose one of two prompts. Mine is bolded below.

Beta’d by: @amanda-teaches, cause she is the best

A/N: So you know the pictures, the spread, the article in THAT magazine, featuring that beautiful soul, and that would cause any man to think less of himself, but I thought, what would go through Jensen’s head and how would I help him through it.

Like Jensen’s Warmth? Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

The cold snowy mountains were a stark contrast to the warm flatland of their home state, but Y/N was loving the quietness and solace of the northeast. Y/N pulled into the snow-covered driveway and started unloading the groceries. She planned accordingly and for weeks at a time; they didn’t have many delivery options out there.

“Honey, I’m home! What do you say you come help me carry in and put away all this food and I make you a nice, juicy porterhouse for dinner?” Y/N called from the kitchen as she dropped the load on the counter. “Honey? Jay?” The house was mostly silent but then she heard it. The distinct smack of fists and feet hitting the heavy bag Jensen installed in the home gym. She sighed knowing this was the third day in a row Jensen had spent hours in the gym, working out until he was ready to drop.

Y/N brought in the rest of the bags, stored the food, and changed her clothes. If she was going to join him in the gym, at least she could participate. It wasn’t like it was a hardship watching her husband in only a pair of shorts, his freckled skin dripping with sweat.

She brought fresh water with her, setting it on the weight bench. He was breathing heavy, sweating, and red-faced. Jensen was not out of shape by any means, but he somehow had gotten it in his head that he needed to get into better shape. Maybe it was the pressure of becoming Soldier Boy, maybe it was that he was approaching his “mid-forties”, it could have been a few things, but Y/N thought she knew exactly what had prompted this new obsession. “Hey, honey.”

“Hey, babe,” he rasped, his breaths heavy with exertion, his hair soaking. “Just a few more minutes.” He landed another two punch kick combo.

“Jay, you have got to take a break. You can’t keep going like this, hours a day, day after day,” Y/N pleaded with him. “This is enough for today.”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe you’re right.” He stopped, hugging the bag tightly, holding on as he tried to catch his breath.

“Go shower, I’ll get dinner started, okay?” Y/N smiled, kissing him softly.

“You got it. I’m pretty sure I reek anyway.”

Leafy greens and brightly colored vegetables covered the kitchen island as Y/N chopped and sliced away. The cuts of meat were sitting out to warm up before grilling, and a nice bottle of a full-bodied red was breathing on the table. Jensen emerged from the hallway leading from their bedroom about thirty minutes later, looking a little worse for the wear. He pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek, swiping a handful of peppers, too.

“I saw that mister,” she smiled, leaning into his touch. “But I’m gonna let it slide just ‘cause you smell nice.”

“Better than before?”

“Oh, way better,” she laughed, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Want to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“Nothing, babe. Just trying to stay in shape. I gotta get in that custom suit in a couple of weeks, and I ain’t getting any younger.” Jensen looked down, running a hand over his face, scratching at his beard.

“That’s all, huh?”

“Yeah, just running isn’t gonna cut anymore. I have to keep up.”

“Keep up with…?”

Jensen pretended he didn’t hear Y/N as he started helping with the salad. If he ignored the question, maybe she would let it go. It seemed to be working, for now, so he went with it, and continued to help her with dinner.

“Jay, these look perfect!” Y/N gushed as she cut into the steak. She placed the bite in her mouth, the flavor exploding, and she moaned around it. “Oh my god, it's practically melting in my mouth!”

“You made it easy with a superb cut of meat, babe,” Jensen shrugged, digging into his salad and grilled vegetables.

All through dinner, Y/N noticed how he barely touched his meat or wine, but took extra helpings of the healthy stuff. She decided she would let it go, wanting to enjoy their meal, but soon enough, the dishes were cleared and leftovers stored.

“Jay?” Y/N asked, rinsing the plate in her hand before handing it to her husband. “Can I ask you something?”

“Babe, you can ask me anything, you know that.”

“And promise me you won’t get mad?”

“I won’t get mad, but now I am a little suspicious,” Jensen raised one eyebrow, looking over at his wife.

“Does your new workout regimen have anything to do with Jared’s spread in Men’s Health?”

“No.” Jensen protested immediately.

“Jay…”

“Maybe,” he sighed, throwing the towel on the counter, then he turned, leaning against it. “Am I...soft?”

“Soft? I think you are the kindest, most generous, loving man I’ve ever known,” Y/N replied honestly. “I am lucky I found you and even luckier that you love me.”

“Well, thank you for that, babe, but I was asking about my physical appearance,” Jensen hung his head, his voice getting quieter as he talked. “Do I have a ‘dad bod’?”

“Jensen Ross Ackles, you listen to me right now. You have never looked better and you are in the best shape of your life. You just completed a 15 year run on the most successful sci-fi television show in history, you are stepping into an iconic role that you were hand-picked for, and if a ‘dad bod’ looks like this, then yes!” Y/N gestured to her husband while rambling on trying to make her point. “No, you know what? Come here, come sit down with me. Bring the wine.”

Y/N sat down with her laptop, intent on showing her husband the proof he needed to believe her and believe in himself. Jensen sat down next to her, handing her a fresh glass, as she pulled up photo after photo on the screen.

“Do you see what I see?”

“No, I see a skinny kid from Texas with no hair on his chest and barely-there abs,” he scoffed.

“Okay, you still don’t have chest hair, but what else do you see?” She prompted him again.

“A pudgy mid-section and that was before I turned 40!”

“Do you want to know what I see?”

“You’re biased.”

“You’re damn right I am, but I do know that your fans, the Dean-girls, well, they’re not wrong. Did you know that according to several fan sites, you and Dean have way more fans than Jared and Sam? And are you telling me that millions of people are wrong?”

“Millions?” he asked skeptically.

“Okay, well, maybe not millions, but a lot! But I see a man that is in better shape than he was twenty years ago. I see a skinny kid from Texas too. But I also see a man who now is in the best shape of his life and way sexier than that skinny kid.. What is it that you’re always telling me when I complain about my baby muffin top or my thunder thighs?”

“That bodies come in all shapes and sizes, and beauty isn’t defined by your body shape; it’s defined by your soul and you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

“Okay, and I usually argue with you when you do, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. We are our own worst critics, you know that. But I see a healthy body and strong arms. Arms that hold me better than any others on the planet. Arms that hold our children and comfort them when they are hurt. I see a sexy mind and a stunning soul, one that was made for me.”

“Okay, I think that is enough wine for you,” Jensen reached for the glass, but you moved it out of his reach.

"Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

“Fine, it could have been a smile.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, my exceptionally sexy wife made a pretty good point.”

“Oh? Tell me more.”

“Well, she may also be the smartest person I know. She always knows just what to say when my dumbass is being, well a dumbass.”

“Yeah, I am pretty damn smart. Because you know what else I did? I made arrangements for your visiting parents to keep the children overnight so they can swim until they pass out.”

“Wow, that is pretty smart. You know, I’ve been working out and I bet I could carry you all the way upstairs without breaking a sweat.”

“Oh, you’re on Ackles, but you are wrong about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“We will definitely be working up a sweat!”

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @kickingitwithkirk @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @gh0stgurl @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid @manawhaat @crashdevlin @fangirlxwritesx67 @winchesterprincessbride @waywardbeanie @jensengirl83 @anathewierdo3467 @winchest09 @michellethetvaddict @magssteenkamp @waywardbaby thewinchesterandreidwhore @anathewierdo

The Jensen’s Jamboree: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @adoptdontshoppets @supernatural-jackles @fandom-princess-forevermore @akshi8278 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @deanwanddamons @rockhoochie

#BTZ #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles flangst #jensen ackles fluff #jensen ackles fanfiction

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baeklooming-day · 4 years

Text

Meet me at the game arcade | Baekhyun

𓍢 Summary: There is this boy at the game arcade who is determined to win not only the plushie, but you together with it.

Masterlist

𓍢 Mini-playlist 💖 Moodboard by @kjikaila

𓍢 Genre: 90s!AU, Fluff, Cheeky Baek is back (you know the thing!!)

𓍢 Word Count: 6.6k

𓍢 A/N: Big credit to my beloved Tokyo, because I used to hang out at game arcades after school and often cute boys could be found there. 😇

Purple-ish, violet-ish, even blue-ish looking twinkling beams were soaking through the two lonely, candy floss bearing resemblance to fluffish clouds which appeared to cover the city beneath for a little while.

It wasn’t even summer anymore, but the sun seemed to be in a mood to let the light spill on everything beneath, letting little sparkles of vitamin D play on the walls of buildings, shining through the glass in windows, gleaming on all these colorful advertisements plastered around the district and making it seem as if the city was floating in the glinting sensation, warm light reflecting all possible kinds and shades of beautiful lilac color palettes.

Usually, you wouldn’t be the one to appreciate a similar weather very much, but given that the last two weeks had been nothing but wholly rainy and generally anything but pleasant in terms of weather outside, you found yourself being happy to be able to welcome the prickling sunlight on your skin.

You rested your chin on your knuckles, slowly closing your eyes and letting a lazy smile fall onto your scarlet tinted lips. You considered yourself lucky enough that you usually managed to arrive in class before all of your classmates, given that in that manner you could always pick the best seat without having to rush through the hallways to reach the classroom and dash to your desired desk.

And today, after all those gloomy days soaked in cold raindrops and weighing dust grey clouds, you found your seat to be even more than perfect.

The classroom wasn’t big, it was actually way smaller than you would like it to be, but as if to recompense that it had really large windows. And large windows meant a lot of sunlight to pour into the room through them, an obvious fact of which you couldn’t be more content about as you sat comfortably in the penultimate seat right beside one of those windows.

You had stopped paying attention to the lesson for what already felt like a whole thirty minutes ago, the dancing sunbeams only making you feel lazier and also kind of sleepy, completely switching off your usual concentration. You continued letting your face bathe in the pleasant sun rays which, now playfully peeking through the glass were gracing the monotonous classroom in cheerful gold shimmers. Your thoughts in the back of your mind started to slowly mix together with your teacher’s soft voice speaking about the last pages of your Japanese lecture in the background of which, right in that moment, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care about.

Your classmates were surprisingly quiet today, and in that current state you would probably soon drift away into your own personal dreamland even further, if not the little vibration coming from your phone placed under your hand on your desk.

For a split second you almost got a mini heart attack as the sudden text message made your pastel purple Nokia 3310 let out some rattling sounds as it moved ever so slightly on the wooden surface of your desk. You looked around a little bit startled, hoping that nobody noticed the brief faint noise.

Pulled back into reality, you quickly slid the device behind your equally purple colored pencil case, unblocking the screen with a click of one button and checking the received SMS. You felt a wide smile spreading on your lips as you read the text, it being from your friend announcing to you that her classes ended earlier today, and that she would be waiting for you to join her outside by the school entrance.

As you threw a quick glance at both the clocks on your screen and on the wall above the door, you found yourself seriously envying your friend, because it looked just as if she was always getting the cooler and chiller teachers who were actually able to understand that on the last lesson on Friday the kids weren’t the most likely to sit still and obediently follow the lesson anymore. Also given that today’s schedule, just like every other Friday which was simply laughable in your honest opinion, was absurdly long. Your lessons extended from eight in the morning until past three in the afternoon, which compared to the earlier weekdays you just refused to acknowledge.

You let out a deep sigh as another long minute had passed on the clock, mentally begging the time or whoever or whatever might be in charge of time management in the universe to quicken it up a bit.

Almost fifteen minutes left until the long awaited, two days freedom, also commonly known as the weekend. Just like everybody else, you were always impatiently waiting for the last lesson to be finally over and to let you hang out with some friends, and do other longed for fun activities for which you unfortunately didn’t have any time during the normal school week.

Until just now, you had always been included in the casual hangouts at the mall with your wide group of school friends, in going to the theater to check out the latest movie releases, or meeting up at your, by now beloved, cute small diner to eat some cherry cakes which quickly became popular around the area. But as of recently, the loud ringing sound on Fridays which announced the end of the lessons and beginning of the weekend, totally changed its meaning for you.

You weren’t as thrilled as you saw the large advertisement for the opening of a brand new game arcade for the first time on your way home one day, but as soon as you and your friend Miko decided to quickly see what it was all about and peeked inside on the big opening day, you already knew that you would visit and spend your coins at that place much more often than anyone could even imagine.

It was one of the branches belonging to SEGA group, it wasn’t any super large game arcade but at the same time it also wasn’t the smallest you had ever been in.

It was just ideal, and managed to balance perfectly the two things which you used to be crazy about the most when you were a little younger.

With that being said, the new game arcade was divided into more or less two sections, one being filled with all kinds of games starting with The Legend Of Zelda and ending on Pokémon, Super Mario, and many, many more in between. The second section was a little bit different, but not less interesting, perhaps only overlooking the fact that most of the time it tended to be a lot more nerve-wracking than you could ever expect from its harmless and pretty appearance.

The free space was filled with all kinds of plushie and toy automats, the whole room being so eye-catching and colorful that it was almost impossible to just pass by without giving it a proper look. It had literally everything you could ever dream of, soft and lovely teddy bears in every possible color, dolls, game characters, manga figures, even little charms which you could attach to your keys or your bag.

Truly a magical place flowing with milk and honey, if not the one unnerving fact that very often it was literally impossible to get the doll you wanted out of the automat at first try. Of course, it wasn’t such a big deal given that one turn costed exactly one hundred yen which wasn’t a handful of money after all. But if you calculated all your losses and all your future, probably failed as well, attempts together, you were very likely bound to leave at least around one thousand yen at the game arcade for literally nothing in return.

Sometimes you couldn’t hold yourself back from wondering that maybe that was the secret of the success of game arcades, and that the companies designed the automats like that on purpose to always drop the toy before it could even reach the hole and land safely in your hands.

There were times where you would loose even more than a thousand yen in an attempt to win the plushie you wanted, almost throwing your wallet against the glass as it became always much lighter and lighter with passing of each failed round.

There were times like this at the very beginning of that arcade fever, but after a while you found yourself becoming always better and better at fishing out all those dolls and bears. As the time flew by, you also found your bedroom nearly starting to drown in all those soft joys of every childhood.

But you didn’t really care.

And as soon as you got a notice that there was a new plushie automat to be about to be installed in the game arcade, you just knew that you needed to try it out immediately with the first better opportunity.

Which just came perfectly today.

You almost let out a squeak of joy as the bell finally rang, announcing the long awaited end of the last Friday’s lesson.

You quickly collected all your belongings from your desk and your seat, swinging your lilac bag over your shoulder and rushing out of the classroom in the direction of the stairs.

Luckily enough, you managed to dash through the corridor and down the stairs before the crowds of other students could block you.

As you reached the exit of the school building, you saw Miko standing right in front of it, her back turned at you. She was lightly swinging to the left and to the right, probably listening to some music on her brand new MP3 player she’d been talking about lately.

A little mischievous smile fell on your soft lips as a marvelous idea popped up in your head.

You took a few steps forward, careful to be quiet but, considering the fact that the music in her earphones was probably blasting, you didn’t exactly need to. You slowly pushed the glass door open, sneaking up on her and swiftly throwing your hands before her eyes to cover them.

„Holy freak!” Miko let out a startled scream, gaining a muffled laugh from you. „Who’s this? Y/N?” She started to turn her head to one side and to another, making you chuckle even more at the sight.

„It’s me. Mario.” You said, still covering her eyes and trying not to laugh out loud, seeing that you were visibly in a great mood today.

„And I’m Luigi. Can I get my vision back now, please?” She said, placing her hands on yours and pulling them away.

„Do you have enough ready money for the afternoon?” You asked, moving to stand in front of her.

„No duh, I’ve got exactly ten of one hundred yen coins just for the occasion.” She held up her blue wallet for you to see, the sound of loose coins bumping into each other audible as she gently shook it. „And I’m not going to spend a single yen more today, last weekend was fly but I became poorer of a whole six thousand.”

You sent her a scrutinizing look. „And you really think that it will be enough? You know, I’ve already told you before that they have a new automat and stuff.”

„Yes, you have, but still. If I don’t get the doll I want after two tries, I’m bouncing. And I will play Super Mario for the rest of the evening.”

„As if! I know you Miko, you will get just as addicted as every other time.” You let out a laugh, grabbing your friend’s hand and pulling her forward together with you.

„No, I’m telling you!”

The two of you continued to chatter along as you walked in the direction of the game arcade. It wasn’t that much of a long walk, knowing that it was located just a few streets away from your school.

The sun had yet quite an amount of time to start setting, but as you walked between the buildings decorated with bright and colorful advertisements of all possible kinds, it started to throw even more beams which reflected all those purple, blue, and yellow colors, surrounding you with a fairy like atmosphere in the afternoon hours.

„You know, last time as I was in the arcade I asked which dolls will the new automat have, and they told me that it would be supposed to have teddy bears, and-” You talked, being completely caught up in your own bubbling excitement about the new gain in the game arcade.

„Teddy bears?” Miko interrupted your flowing thoughts. „Y/N, you’ve already got like, a whole room of teddy bears. Not mentioning that last time you won not one, but TWO identical Totoro plushies and a Sailor Moon doll, too.” She rolled her eyes, giving you a questioning look. „You own a whole load of them. A whole storage! I’m actually asking myself if there is anything in the entire arcade what you haven’t got at home yet.”

„Well, I mean, that new automat is supposed to have a panda bear plushie and a plain white teddy bear, so, you know, I need to enrich my collection with these two.” You said, reaching your hand to your bag to pull out your phone.

You failed to notice the small group of boys, more or less around your age, walking past you and directing themselves straight into the game arcade building which finally came into your view.

You were just about to answer a text message from one of your other friends, when you were rapidly pulled back into reality with a not so gentle nudge to your side.

„What-” You turned your head to your left to look at Miko, question marks visible in your eyes as you were met with your friend’s amazed expression. „What? Why did you stop all of a sudden?”

„Y/N, I think you don’t see what I’m seeing. Look.” She pointed her finger at some point in the distance, a little blush coloring her cheeks.

You followed where she was pointing, finally noticing the group of boys from earlier which you failed to see.

There were four of them altogether, standing before the open arcade entrance and talking eagerly. Two of them were really tall, whilst the other two were rather short in their height, but all of them were wearing plain white tees. Your eye caught one of the shorter boys, who as the only one among them was wearing a blue bomber jacket with white prints. He had what you would call a baby face, his features were soft, or at least you could observe that much standing a few meters away from him. His hair was of a chocolate brown color, and as his voice reached your ears, you had to admit that it sounded truly so smooth like velvet.

You felt your own two cheeks warming up a little, a sensation which you didn’t like even a bit, as the boy locked eyes with you, his wide smile immediately disappearing from his lips only to be replaced by an expression of awe.

You stood there completely frozen in your spot, clenching your purple Nokia in your hand and feeling slightly flabbergasted by the whole sudden situation, not really knowing what was going on.

The last thing you saw before you were harshly pulled back into reality once again, was the other three boys looking questioningly at their friend who’s eyes were fixed on you, soon the entire group looking right at you.

And then you heard it, the loud ‘ooooooh’, ‘damn’, and ‘oh my god’ followed by the three of them lightly hitting the shoulders of their friend, starting to shake him and becoming even louder when he didn’t react, instead still looking at you.

When you finally snapped out of the weird trance, you quickly turned to your side to Miko who was now covering her mouth to prevent the invasive giggles from escaping.

„Oh snap.” You only said.

„Y/N, THIS, this is exactly what I’ve been talking about.” She said. „You are always so immersed in the games that you totally fail to notice all those cute boys being around!” She almost exclaimed the last words, stomping her both feet on the ground repeatedly, for some reason visibly excited.

„Well that was hella weird.” You said, still trying to process what had just happened. „Do you know them?”

„Um, well, I mean-” She started, now her being the one to grab your hand and pull you forward. „I keep my eyes always wide open, you know. And I just happened to see them at the game arcade the last time we were there. That hottie in a blue jacket seemed to have taken an instant liking to you back then already, but we bounced out too quickly for them to approach us.” She blabbered, instantly becoming a thousand times more cheerful than before.

The two of you were coming always nearer to the entrance of the arcade, and what followed always nearer to the group of boys who, now noticeably quieter, were still standing in their spot.

With your left hand still being held by Miko and your right hand still holding onto your phone, you tried your best to avoid the gaze of the said boy in a blue jacket as the two of you continued moving closer to the entrance.

What was his deal anyway?

„You know what Miko, did you take a good look at them when you said that you saw them before?” You asked your friend, feeling your cheeks heating up once again as you accidentally locked eyes with the boy one more time. „I mean, maybe from a close up they’ll be total monets.” You added, not even knowing what you were trying to convince yourself about, because as you came always closer you had to admit that the said group were even better looking from up close.

„Awe, Y/N, always the negatory. I’m sure they’re not some scrubs too, though. Besides, just look at them now.” She said, an ounce above a whisper. „They could totally be in a boy group with those looks.”

And unfortunately, you couldn’t deny, as with every following step you were getting a more detailed view, as well as you were feeling more and more being practically eaten by those two dazzling eyes which didn’t leave you even for a brief moment.

You just wanted to get inside the arcade and concentrate yourself on the new plushie automat, not on dealing with some random group of boys who apparently enjoyed staring at girls way too much for your liking.

That was right, as said it was too much for YOUR liking, but Miko didn’t seem to mind at all.

Even the whole opposite, she seemed to be having the time of her life, particularly when the other shorter boy with big cat-like eyes sent her a dazzling smile.

„Oh snap, oh snap, oh snap, did you see that, Y/N, I think I forgot how to breathe.” A scarlet blush spread on her cheeks, whilst she nervously squeezed your hand. „That guy is literally so handsome.”

„Girl, Miko-” You started gently, but as you looked at her frozen in her spot with literal hearts in her eyes, you knew she was already gone to make some lovey-dovey unthinkable scenarios in her head.

You talking wasn’t probably going to do much anyway, but you needed to snap her out of it.

You tried to gently pull her with you and finally enter the arcade. „Miko.”

Nothing.

„Miko-”

Still nothing, and as you threw a quick glance at the boys, you saw that the one with big eyes was continuing to unceremoniously smile at your friend, meanwhile she was returning all those candy smiles.

What was it, a smiling contest?

No, you thought, that was completely stupid.

„Miko, I swear-” You snapped your whole arm into the direction of the entrance to bring her attention back to the arcade a little too harshly, forgetting that you were still holding your phone in that hand.

In the result, your phone was sent flying out of your hand all the way across the sidewalk which separated the two of you from the group of boys, before you could do anything to stop it.

You watched in terror as it ended its small flight right in front of the boy in blue jacket, landing with a loud thud on the ground by his feet.

„MY NOKIAAAA!!” You yelled, not caring at all about the other people around who were now giving you weird or startled looks.

„Y/N-” Miko seemed to finally notice what was going on when you let go of her hand, and started to take large steps closer to the boy to collect your phone.

You could clearly see it as his face immediately lit up and his eyes rapidly fell on your purple Nokia laying on the ground, apparently an idea coming to his mind.

„For the love of-” You mumbled through your teeth, as you watched him bend over to pick up your item. „... all the snaps given.”

You let out a low sigh as you ruffled your silky hair with your hand, starting to finally walk into the direction of the boy, being extra careful not to accidentally lock eyes with him once more.

You had always been that exact type of person who wanted to avoid any unnecessary interaction with other people, in particular if you had other, significantly more important plans ahead of you and didn’t want to lose your time.

That could be an issue right now, you thought to yourself as with every step closer to him his smile grew wider, not even trying to conceal it.

„Um-” You started, as you stood right in front of his frolic face. „That would be mine.” You said, raising your finger up to point at your phone.

Your eyes quickly fell on the purple surface and the screen, trying to thoroughly inspect if any possible damages had been done by the fall.

The boy seemed to notice the visible concern im your eyes, letting out a soft, melodic chuckle whilst handing your Nokia to you. „I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” He said. „This model is practically indestructible. Lasts longer than most relationships.”

His remark made you raise one eyebrow at him, squinting your eyes ever so slightly whilst you retrieved your phone. „What a nice comparison. And you’ll be speaking out of experience, I assume?”

You were absolutely sure that your unpleasant comeback would make him immediately not wanting to continue to talk to you, but to your surprise you couldn’t be more wrong. Instead of a sign of dislike, you could make out a sparkle of fondness shining even brighter in his brown eyes.

Weird, you thought.

“No, I’m not.” The boy replied, smiling contentedly. “I was actually quietly hoping that mine would outlive any model of Nokia 3310.” He added, giving you a smile sweeter than the previous one.

In response, you merely granted him a brief look before taking a step away, intending to finally enter the arcade. “Good luck with that.”

Trying to completely conceal the awareness of his glowing presence still behind you, you quickened your pace, basically dashing through the open doors to the inside of the colorful arcade and not even bothering to wait for Miko anymore.

As soon as you went inside you were met with a lot of frolicsome lights and sparkles, the small alleyways between all sorts of games being flooded with light coming from the screens of game automats, each one of them showing the start menu of a different popular game on the lambent display.

It didn’t take you too long to find the longed for, newest, totally polished and even more so inviting plushie automat which has been continuously on your mind this whole time, basically calling out your name to you as soon as you finally came to a view of it.

It was lovely, appearing even more so enthralling to you in real life than as it did on the mere advertisements plastered around the arcade.

Without losing a single minute, you took your wallet out of your bag and took a large step closer to the automat, your eyes stopping on every plushie trying to decide which one to go for.

Finally, they stopped on a cute small panda bear which instead of being just plainly black and white, was purple and white.

That was the one.

You opened your wallet, taking one shining coin of one hundred yen worth.

Just as you were about to throw it into the automat, you were startled by a sudden familiar voice coming from right behind you.

“Hey home skillet, why did you run off like that?” Miko materialized herself next to your ducked down figure, leaning on the glass of the plushie automat.

You looked up at your friend, feeling a little guilty for doing so. “My bad? But I really didn’t want to talk to that dude in a blue jacket.” You murmured, bringing your attention back to the purple panda.

Miko scrunched her nose, letting out a loud sigh. “Why are you always rejecting all the sweet boys? He even picked up your phone for you, come on.” She said, before startling you again with a sudden squeak. “BUUUUT! Y/N-” She started, covering her mouth to prevent the next invasion of uncontrollable giggles from escaping, jumping up and down in her spot and causing her black soft locks to slide on her forehead. “ That hottie with those big eyes. Oh my god Y/N. I actually talked to him just now, and guess what he told me.” She paused for a brief moment, only to let out another squeak. “His favorite game is also Super Mario! And he asked me if I wanted to play it with him today, oh my god, Y/N.” Miko was breathing so quickly, that as you looked up at her once again, you started to become honestly worried if soon she would start to hyperventilate.

“And I assume you said yes?” You asked, but you already knew the answer anyway.

“Of course! I mean, did you see him? A model!” She answered.

“So you plan on leaving me all alone here?” You asked. “Are his friends still here?” You added, carefully peeking from behind the plushie automat you were still ducked down by.

Your eyes widened in terror as you sneaked a look and spotted the group walking down the aisle.

“I won’t leave you! But just let me have this one? You know how much I would love to get a proper date!” She replied, throwing longing looks in the direction of the boys. “And Y/N, if that blue hottie comes to talk to you, please be nice.” She added quickly.

“Miko, do you perhaps know something that I don’t know?”

“What? Noooooo, not at all, what makes you think that?”

You let out a small sigh, rolling your eyes at your friend. “Whatever.”

You brought your attention back to the display with all the plushies inside, finally inserting the coin into the automat and starting to try to fish out the purple panda bear.

You were still sensing a presence next to you, so thinking it was just Miko who hasn’t left yet, unbothered and completely oblivious, you continued to give all your concentration to the little plush bear you already almost had clasped.

Just as the bear was nearing to fall into the designed hole and right into your hands, the metal claws let it go in a trice, in effect the bear bouncing back, away from the hole.

Unbelievable.

A soft snicker reached your ear, so without even caring to turn your head you just rolled your eyes again. “Very funny Miko, you know that it usually never works at the first try very well yourself.” You said, taking out another one hundred yen coin to insert and try again.

“Sometimes it does.” Said a velvet like voice.

You immediately snapped your head to the left, your eyes widening one more time as you realized that it wasn’t Miko standing next to you, but the boy in a blue jacket.

You involuntarily squinted your eyes at him, looking up. “You again.”

He seemed to be completely immune to you not being the nicest, instead jumping straight into any normal conversation you would usually have with a friend.

Out of all people, and out of all days, why you and why today?

Guess you would never know.

“Your name is Y/N, right?” The boy asked. “Your friend with the black hair told me when we were still outside.” He continued, his melodic voice filling the space between the two of you, for some unexplainable reason making you kind of distracted and causing you to drop the purple panda once again, failing at the second attempt to win it.

You sent the boy a heavy glare. “And your name is...?”

“I’m Baekhyun.” He replied with a sweet smile.

You decided to ignore him, taking the already third coin out of your wallet and inserting it again.

“What are you about to get?” Came yet another soft question.

“The purple panda.” You replied briefly.

Baekhyun’s eyes left your figure for a transient while, to fall on the plushies inside the automat. “Well, guess what I would be about to get?” He said.

“On my nerves.” You murmured quietly, but loudly enough for him to hear.

You weren’t looking at him anymore so you obviously couldn’t have noticed it, but even when he received nothing but snarky replies from you, the boy was all smiles with little dazzles dancing in his brown eyes. “I actually hoped that I would get on your calendar.” He said, giving you a winsome smile as soon as you graced him with your attention again. “On a weekend when you’d be free... Or after school...” The cheekiness audible in his soft voice just seconds ago wasn’t as strong as it was anymore as he said these words.

In the result to his question, you scrunched your nose, looking up at him. “You don’t even know me. You’ve literally seen me one single time.” You said.

The moment you said that, you observed as the cheeky look fell back on his soft features. “Dante wrote forty two chapters of a whole opera for Beatrice after he saw her one time on the street, so I think I would be reasonably justified to ask you out like that.” He smiled at you in the most candy smile anyone could probably ever master.

What in the world?

“You know Dante? Are you into literature?” You asked, a little flabbergasted and surprised, knowing that most of the boys your age weren’t particularly interested in the art of similar old literary works.

That was definitely new.

“I like art in general.” Baekhyun said.

“So, how do you feel about art?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Baekhyun’s eyes seemed to have a whole million of sparkles dancing in them as he replied. “Well, I think you are really cool to talk to.”

Wait-

“What the freak man.” Was the only thing which you managed to say after you connected the dots of what he was really referring to.

This boy surely was having the time of his life right now.

You brought your attention back to the plushies, trying to suppress a muffled quiet scream which threatened to leave your lips because, even at the third try, the purple panda was dropped back into the soft pile of other plushies as if totally mocking you and your efforts to win it.

You aggressively grabbed the ziplock of your wallet, practically snatching a new one hundred yen coin and slamming it into the automat, determined to win it this time.

In that moment, it was a serious matter of life and death for you, and being completely focused on that one thing before you, you were also still completely oblivious to your surroundings.

If only you knew how your small act of chagrin to the automat and throwing the coin inside in a total state of fury made Baekhyun’s heart melt even more for you, thoughts of how cute you were flowing through his mind.

“How many more times are you going to try this?” He asked.

“You know, I’m actually really good at this. Today just doesn’t seem to be my best day.” You replied, without giving him one look.

The claws clasped around the purple panda once again, lifting it up and sliding slowly to the direction of the hole, through which you really hoped it would finally fall out this time.

“I already own a whole room of plushies and dolls I won in the arcade, so this should be no sweat.” You added.

“Well that’s phat.” Baekhyun said, his voice always sounding like a smooth velvet which, for some reason was becoming always more difficult to ignore for you.

“I know.” You said. “But I’m totally buggin’ right now.”

You watched the purple panda hanging just above the destined hole, being completely sure that you would finally win. You threw a content look at Baekhyun next to you, resting your elbows on the automat. “It’s already falling, you see? I’m da bomb. All that and a bag of chips-” You interrupted mid sentence, when to your downright disbelief the panda was let loose into the hole, only to somehow bounce out of it right back into the pile of other plushies, leaving you at the fourth failed attempt of winning. “You sick piece of-” You said through your clenched teeth, clutching your wallet in your hand and trying to stay calm.

You threw a murderous look at the automat, then glanced back at the wallet held in your hand before opening it again and taking out the fifth coin, throwing it into the automat without thinking twice.

You quickly guided the claws to grab the purple panda, but then again, as if to totally make fun of you, it was let dropped back into the pile. “Son of a SCONE.” You said, very lightly hitting your small fist on the glass.

You were brought back to reality by the same velvet voice which was distracting you just moments ago. “Y/N.”

“What.”

“You haven’t given me an answer yet.” Baekhyun said softly. “Will you go on a date with me?”

“No.” You replied.

“You are being so mean today.”

“I’m mean everyday.” You added, standing up from the position you were in this whole time. “You have a really unusual way of approaching, you know?”

“Well, everyone has their own ways. And everyone has their own idea of perfection.” Baekhyun said, looking right into your eyes. “Mine just happens to be you.”

You shot him a tired look. “What the freak.” You said. “Listen, um-”

“Do you know what bees make?” He suddenly interrupted you with this random question.

Without even thinking too much, you simply replied. “Honey?”

You watched as his eyes lit up again. “Yes, dear?”

You were left there completely done with the world as it was and speechless, just standing before him and looking at his smiling, glowing face, visibly happy with his own lines.

Why wouldn’t he just give up?

You didn’t even know anymore what to say to him, seeing that apparently he had a comeback line ready for each and every of your attempts to shove him away.

“You are impossible.” You said.

You observed as Baekhyun’s eyes quickly wandered to the plushie automat and as he bit his lip, another idea visibly coming to his mind. “Will you please say yes if I win that purple panda for you?” He asked, his brown eyes full of glinting hope.

“I would like to see you try. If I couldn’t win this, you won’t be able to either.” You replied.

“If you’re so sure about it, then just agree?” He said, a little smile still visible on his lips.

You crossed your arms on your chest, him instantly mirroring your gesture. “Fine. And if you fail, you will stop asking me out.” You said. “Three attempts.” You held up three fingers.

“Fine.” He said, holding up a shining one hundred yen coin before putting it into the automat.

He ducked down in the spot in which you were previously, laying his left arm on the free surface and lazily resting his chin on it, his right hand managing the little controller on the automat, effortlessly.

In complete and utter terror, you watched as the purple panda bear successfully fell into the hole right away, soon swiftly falling out of the automat straight into Baekhyun’s hands.

You couldn’t help it but let out a gasp of shock.

“No.” You whispered shaking your head, not believing that he just got it at the first try, because how probable could it even be?

“Yes.” Baekhyun held up the purple panda, flashing you the brightest, happiest smile you have seen on him that day. “I told you, sometimes it does work at the first try.”

You just stood there, not able to say a word, still looking at him in a complete disbelief.

Again, how probable could it be?

“I, um-” You really tried to say a full normal sentence, but it seemed like even the language decided to sabotage you today.

Before Baekhyun said anything else, he gently placed the panda in your hands, in the result his fingers softly brushing yours, may it be on purpose or just accidentally. “Please just say yes?”

As much as you despised this whole thing, you were a girl of your word, and you made a deal.

Which you obviously lost, now that you were holding the purple panda bear in your hands.

Even so, looking at Baekhyun’s dazzling brown eyes, you still wanted to give him the benefit of doubt, even though you were perfectly aware that it was pointless at this stage.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he quickly interrupted you before you could say even one word. “You won’t regret it.” He added, a little faint plea visible in his eyes as they looked at you.

You felt one corner of your mouth slightly lifting in a half smile. “What if I will?” You asked, meeting his chocolate gaze.

“You won’t.” He quickly said. “Just give me a chance to win you over.”

He asked you for a chance, but deep down you started to feel that he already was winning you over with his impossible sweetness and persistence.

But that was something which he didn’t need to know right now, was it?

You held the panda plushie closer to yourself, burying your face in it for a brief moment to hide the bubblegum blush which was shamelessly spreading on your dewy cheeks totally against your own will.

“I like onigiri with umeboshi filling.” You said. “And dark mocha.”

A honey-dripping smile fell on Baekhyun’s lips as his chocolate eyes traveled across every feature on your face. “What an unusual pair.” He said, the smile never leaving his lips and eyes.

“If you want to date me, you need to be prepared for weird combos like that.” You said, facing away as you felt the blush becoming stronger, your entire cold barrier finally giving in into the charm of his smile.

“I’m thrilled to know more.” He grinned winsomely.

And who would think that when you left the game arcade, you would have gotten your plushie and a cute boy together with it?

Undisputedly not you.

But sometimes, sometimes the universe put things on your way, things which you would least expect to cherish the most.

Author’s End Note: Thank you for reading! Remember to REBLOG if you liked it! Also, I tried to build in some classic ‘90s phrases into dialogues, so let me know if I did well or not!! 💖 Maybe it won’t be the end of the ‘90s AU. 💜

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beauregardlionett · 4 years

Text

star-crossed lovers and other tragedies made right

AO3 Link

One of Beauregard Lionett’s earliest memories was of her parents sitting her down and telling her she would one day be wed in matters of business rather than love. Her mother had taken Beau’s tiny hands in her own delicate ones and told her to never fall in love. Her father, with his eyes hard and unforgiving, warned her to always be on her best behavior. She could never remember what age she had been, but the lofty dollhouse from her fourth birthday still sat in the corner of her bedroom.

Perhaps that had been her harbinger, because not long after, her memories of Yasha began.

Beau’s family estate was in Kamordah, but four times a year, they made the brief trip to Zadash for business and personal matters alike. It was there, among the sprawling, weaving streets of the Pentamarket, that they met. Beau had ducked from her mother’s side to go exploring, rucking up her skirts with distaste as she went. Though she never got to explore on her own before, she was enthralled by the array of options before her. Pristine tents alongside ramshackle booths, steaming baked goods and glittering jewelry hawked with the same enthusiasm as mere trinkets. Her bones all but vibrated with the resonance and life that defined the market streets.

Rounding a corner, Beau’s eye caught on a stall selling trinkets and flowers and bolts of fabric. She trotted her way over, the tiny coin purse she had hidden at her waist jingling quietly. Beau eyed up the trinkets with interest, pushed onto her tiptoes to view the toys. As she stood inspecting the spread on the short table, a flash of white in Beau’s peripheral caught her attention.

Turning, Beau blinked wide eyes at the girl beside her. She stood several inches taller than Beau and looked a few years older. Her hair was shockingly white and her clothing rather plain in style and color. Beau envied that she got to wear breeches while she was stuck with her dress. The flowers assorted behind the table caught the girl’s attention, and Beau tried to return her focus to the trinkets. But they didn’t seem to have the same allure now as they had before the girl walked up.

“May I have one of those?” A soft voice spoke from the direction of the girl. Beau flicked a look sideways, surprised that for all her sturdiness, she sounded so sweet.

“Three copper,” the stall owner croaked, reaching for the stem.

“Oh,” the girl hesitated, catching her lower lip between her teeth and clenching a fist. “I only have two.”

“Here,” Beau spoke before she even thought the action through. She dug her neatly embroidered coin purse free of her belt and produced a copper piece. Holding it out to the girl beside her, Beau didn’t smile, just waited expectantly.

“Thank you,” the girl whispered, cheeks pink. “But I can’t.”

“Sure you can,” Beau shrugged, growing a little impatient. “It’s my allowance, and I want you to take it for the flower.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Beau sighed in a manner her mother would have a fit over. “My arm is getting tired, do you want the flower or not?”

With great hesitation, the white-haired girl reached out and took the copper piece from Beau. The stall owner flicked a look between the two before snatching the coin from the girl’s hand and passing over the bloom. Trinkets forgotten, Beau trot after the girl who had retreated a few shy steps from the stall.

“What’s your name?”

“Yasha,” the girl blinked down at Beau, confused rather than annoyed by her continued presence. “Thank you for helping me. What’s your name?”

Beau waved the girl’s gratitude away, unfamiliar with how she might accept it.

“It was just a copper piece,” Beau said, noticing now that Yasha had two different colored irises. “I’m Beau.”

“I suppose,” Yasha agreed, weaving the long stem of the flower between her fingers. “I forgot my coin purse at the inn, so I only had a few on me.”

“Where are you staying?” Beau inquired, keeping pace with Yasha as they strode through the bustling market streets. She wondered briefly if her mother was frantic over her missing daughter yet or not.

“The Lodge of the Eclipse,” Yasha’s voice pulled Beau back. “My parents are in town for business.”

Lips twisting, Beau kicked a loose stone in her path, tracking it as it skittered between patrons’ feet. “Mine too, but we’re staying at the Pillow Trove.”

If Yasha understood the implications of her family’s wealth and status by that comment, she didn’t show it. The girl continued weaving the flower stem through her fingers and trudged alongside Beau. She was never very good at conversation with others, one of the many reasons Beau lacked any friends back home. Thankfully, the lively chatter of the market streets filled the silence between them as they walked.

Eventually, they happened upon a small group of children playing a game with a tattered leather ball on a small off-shoot path. Perking up, Beau turned to Yasha and pointed with excitement.

“Do you want to play? We should ask them!”

Yasha looked at the flower in her hands and pressed her lips together in a thin line. Beau looked down at the bloom and then back at Yasha’s face.

“If you’re worried about it, I could put it in one of your braids.” While Beau’s mother had styled her daughter’s braids with great care into a firm, intricate bun, Yasha’s hair was mostly loose. There were braids and twists scattered throughout her mess of white hair, and Beau envied the freedom she could see in the style. She was never allowed to wear her hair the way she wanted to.

But Yasha handed over the flower and crouched for Beau to weave it through one of the older girl’s braids with clumsy fingers. Once it was secure, she grabbed Yasha’s hand and dragged her over to the other children. They eyed Beau’s skirts with hesitation at first, but when she proved the awful dress didn’t hinder her dexterity, they were eager to add more players.

She reveled in the freedom of being able to play with other children, laughing with abandon and working to help her team maintain their lead over the other. Even Yasha’s timid uncertainty vanished after a few minutes, her multi-colored eyes sparkling as she laughed along. A few adults paused their errands to watch them play, cheering one team or another on before going about their business. Others wove hastily through their game with a sneer and without a backward glance.

For once in her life, Beau didn’t care.

As they played, the sun passing on its journey above them, Beau’s foot caught on a loose cobblestone and she went tumbling to the ground. With a loud oof of impact, Beau lay stunned for a moment. Blinking against the disorientation, she winced and hissed at the sharp sting of pain on her knee. When she tugged her skirt up enough to see what happened, Beau found a jagged shard of stone pressed into her skinned knee. She tugged it free with a flinch as Yasha knelt in front of her, very obviously concerned.

“I’m okay,” Beau reassured her, voice shaky with fading adrenaline. “It just stings.”

Yasha caught her lower lip between her teeth before reaching out to place her hands on either side of Beau’s knee. With a deep breath and a low pulse of light, the blood vanished to leave behind the faintest outline of broken skin. The stinging faded rapidly, and the sharp pain replaced with a mere dull ache.

“Whoa,” Beau breathed, blue eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

With a shrug, Yasha helped tug Beau to her feet, looking bashful. “I’ve always been able to do it.”

Before Beau could respond, the sound of hurried footsteps against the cobblestone reached them over the hum of the market.

“Beauregard!” Her mother’s voice made Beau’s little shoulders tense. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick! What happened to your dress? Young lady, you are in so much trouble.”

Clara’s soft hand clamped around Beau’s arm and yanked her away from Yasha. The woman knelt to inspect her daughter with fitful motions and sweeping hands, attempting to brush the worst of the dirt from the dress. Moments later, satisfied that Beau seemed at least in one piece, the frustration and anger returned to her expression.

“I was just playing, mom,” Beau grumbled, twisting her fingers through her ruined dress. “You were looking at boring stuff.”

“Beauregard, you—” Clara cut herself off with a strained sigh, shaking her head. She shoved to her feet and held out an expectant hand. “Let’s go, young lady. Your father is expecting us for dinner.”

Beau knew better than to keep her mother waiting, but she twisted to look over her shoulder at Yasha and the other children, anyway. The street kids were many steps back, eyeing Clara with hesitant distrust in the way children often do with harried strangers. But Yasha stood exactly where Beau left her, eyes flitting between mother and daughter. The hum of the market never ceased around them, but Beau felt distinctly detached from that buzz now.

“See you later,” Beau said with a wry quirk of her lips, waving shortly as her mother took firm hold of Beau’s hand. Even as Clara dragged her back through the Pentamarket toward the Tri-Spire and their hotel, Beau looked over her shoulder at Yasha until she could no longer see her new friend.

The next time Beau found herself back in Zadash with her parents, she slipped away yet again. And by chance, ran into Yasha once more. Beau had eagerly rushed to her, happy to be recognized in return, and they spent another day in the market together. This time, however, Beau was smart enough to plan for eventualities. Before they parted ways, she and Yasha agreed on a place to rendezvous anytime they were in the city. She also got Yasha’s address so they could write letters to each other. After all, Beau’s mother had been stressing the importance of keeping in contact with people as of late.

A few years passed this way, Beau and Yasha keeping correspondence and planning meetings in Zadash around their families’ trips. They would roam the Pentamarket and forget their troubles for a while. When they were still children, Beau and Yasha traipsed through the winding aisles of Zadash, peering into stalls with curious fervor and chasing each other through the busy streets. Every time Beau stepped onto the worn cobblestone of the Pentamarket, that undercurrent buzz rushed through her veins. She didn’t know a thing about magic, but Beau figured it was comparable to this.

When Beau was thirteen and Yasha just gone sixteen, they met in the Pentamarket on yet another family trip to Zadash. Beau knew that both of their families were here on business, but she and Yasha remained blissfully ignorant to the inner-workings of their inheritance.

On days she could escape her mother and father, Beau donned her breeches and sleeveless tunic and fled to Yasha’s company. They spent their time in the city together doing whatever pleased their whims, and Beau reveled in the simple pleasure of not having to wear a dress.

On a warm autumn afternoon, after spending their morning meandering, the pair sat just outside a small bakery. They had spent a great deal of time in a shop called The Invulnerable Vagrant. Beau’s former tutor Bren mentioned it in one of his recent letters, and Beau convinced Yasha they should check it out. Of course, they hadn’t the coin or the need for anything in the shop, but the shopkeeper seemed more than happy to have a pleasant conversation with them. Once Beau mentioned she was a friend of Bren’s, the shopkeeper – Pumat – had gone on quite the tangent about how wonderful he was.

With the promise to return the next time they were free and about the Pentamarket, Beau and Yasha had journeyed to the bakery. With warm drinks in hand, they sat across from each other at a small table and shared laughter over their daily adventures.

“Wait, wait,” Beau managed around her ceaseless giggles. “So you’re telling me that a bunny did all that?”

“I think it was a family of bunnies,” Yasha chuckled, turning her drink with idle intent in her hands. “Somehow they got into the grain stores and just...ate way too much. Dad was furious.”

“That’s fucking hysterical,” Beau snorted, leaning back in her chair. “My dad’s lost a lot of his crop to a mudslide before. But we don’t have a lot of forest animals that go after grapes. I’d love to see his face if a bunny did something like that.”

“At the time it was a bit of a problem,” Yasha said with a grin. “But now it’s just really funny.”

As they fell into another fit of giggles, Beau opened her mouth to respond, only to be cut off.

“Beauregard!” Thoreau’s voice reached her, the buzz of the city freezing in her veins. Beau went rigid, jaw clenching, and watched the mirth fade to worry in Yasha’s eyes.

Her father sounded horrendously angry.

Twisting to glance over her shoulder at her father’s approach, Beau couldn’t help but flinch at the expression on his face.

“What have I told you about these escapades of yours? When are you going to grow up?” Thoreau snapped, coming to tower above where Beau sat.

“We’re just talking, dad,” Beau replied, tone clipped.

“With our rival’s daughter, no less,” Thoreau spat. “In public, as if you are friends.”

“Rival?” Beau said, incredulous. She twisted to look at Yasha again, but she seemed as confused as Beau. They barely ever spoke of their family when they were together, because they wanted to forget all that. But Beau knew the von Brandt family had adopted Yasha when she was very young. The details were sparse, but it was something about owing a debt to Yasha’s late parents. Without a biological heir, the von Brandt’s warden was now their next in line.

But as far as Beau knew, the von Brandt family dealt in the trade of ale, so there was hardly any reason for them to consider each other rivals.

“What are you talking about?” Beau spun back to her father, rapidly growing annoyed at her lack of understanding.

“Your family,” Thoreau spat the word at Yasha as if it were a curse. “Has encroached upon my territory as they delve into wine making. Whatever amicable relations we had before are void now. You can make sure your father knows that well.”

Thoreau then reached down to grab Beau’s arm in a bruising grip and yank her to her feet. Stumbling as she did, Beau struggled, peering over her shoulder at Yasha with wide eyes. This couldn’t be happening. The city buzz now entirely lost, the hopeless confusion on her only friend’s face, and her father’s steely grip around her arm…this couldn’t be happening.

“We will no longer associate with the von Brandt family,” Thoreau said firmly, gaze pinned on his daughter. “And I expect you to uphold that, Beauregard. I have tolerated a lot of misbehavior from you, but do not cross this line.”

He glanced pointedly at the breeches she was wearing, as if it proved a point. Thoreau dragged her away from the table, from Yasha.

“Dad!” Beau protested, snapping back into her body at the realization, struggling against his iron grip. “Dad, stop it! This is ridiculous!”

“Do not fight me on this, Beauregard,” Thoreau hissed as he ignored her attempts to get free. “We have an image and a profit to maintain, and those people have betrayed our trust and our companionship by making this choice. If I ever catch you corresponding with their daughter again, you will not like the consequences.”

As a distinct and familiar feeling of desperation settled in her stomach, Beau twisted to look back at Yasha. Her friend stood beside the table, fists clenched and expression pained. This was the second time one of Beau’s parents forced her to leave Yasha behind, neither of them girls able to do anything to stop it from happening. Her stomach clenched unpleasantly at the thought. Beau hoped that the reassuring smile she tried for conveyed everything she wanted to say.

Don’t worry, I won’t let this come between us. We’ll find a way.

Beau’s mother had sent her to the Pentamarket alone with a list of errands to complete. The only reason Beau accepted the task was for the slim chance she might find Yasha somewhere in the chaos. That, and so she could catch just a taste, a faint hint of that lively high, the city seemed to collectively breathe.

She couldn’t have been there for more than ten minutes before she spotted a familiar shock of white hair emerging from the Lodge down the street. Sometimes, luck was on Beau’s side.

They had still been sending letters to each other in the months since Thoreau declared they were to never interact. But they had been far more discrete about it all. Moreover, they hadn’t seen each other in person since then either. For Beau, it was torture – stuck with limited contact with her best friend.

From a distance, Beau watched Yasha pause outside the hotel, and decided – fuck it. Her father wasn’t here.

Abandoning her errands, Beau wove hurriedly through the crowded thoroughfare toward Yasha. As she reached between passersby, Beau caught Yasha’s wrist just before the other could walk away. Yasha pivoted, eyes wide and only growing wider when she saw who had grabbed her.

“Beau?” Yasha whispered, taking a step closer. “What are you doing here?”

“Disobeying my father, what else?” Beau grinned, breathless. “Come on, Yash. Let’s spend the day together, like we always do. Our parents never have to know.”

“I don’t know, Beau,” Yasha said slowly, eyes flicking around like someone might see them. “What if we get caught?”

“And what if we don’t?” Beau countered. She felt the nervous thrum of Yasha’s pulse at her wrist where Beau still clung to her. “Yasha, people of our parents’ caliber don’t go to the market themselves. The chances of running into someone who might snitch on us are next to nothing! Are we really going to let our parents and their feud come between us?”

Yasha caught her lower lip between her teeth, but even that didn’t stop the slow smile that grew and made her eyes crinkle. She grinned wildly up at Yasha and pulled her along into the messy livelihood of the Pentamarket, throwing themselves with familiar, childlike fervor into the curiosities that Zadash offered. They stopped to play a ball game with some local kids, laughing freely the way they had when they first met. Yasha bought them both a trost to drink and Beau turned around and bought them both warm pretzels to soak up the ale.

Beau dragged Yasha to a stall that was selling absolutely ridiculous looking hats, both of them trying a few on until they were in stitches. The stall owner chased them off after a minute, looking amused despite sounding annoyed. Beau helped Yasha pick out a hair ornament from another stall, the gems and beads crafted into the shape of a flower. They stopped to catch their breath outside a tavern and Beau helped Yasha pin the ornament among her braids, the scene reminiscent of their first meeting.

“There,” Beau declared triumphantly. “That should hold. It looks beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Yasha murmured, reaching up to brush careful fingers over the hairpin. Some of the gems caught the sun just so as she did. “I still think you should have gotten that necklace.”

“I’m not much one for flashy jewelry,” Beau said, waving away Yasha’s comment as she sat beside her friend. “Plus, the last thing I need is more jewelry, what with how much my mother has stashed away for me. She keeps hoping I’ll have a change of heart.”

“My parents keep hoping I’ll wear dresses more regularly,” Yasha sighed, plucking at the fabric of her breeches at her knee. “But they’re so…impractical for everyday life.”

“That’s what I keep telling my parents,” Beau heaved an exasperated sigh. “But then they keep telling me I shouldn’t be doing things that require breeches. Which is absolute bullshit, if you ask me.”

They sat together outside the tavern for a while longer, watching patrons pass. Beau was acutely aware of the way her shoulder brushed against Yasha’s, the warmth that radiated from her. It was comforting, a sensation that she never wanted to lose. Her veins sang with the slow thrum of Yasha’s warmth intermingling with the hyper hum of Zadash. The heady taste of combined sensations in Beau’s mouth left her feeling high, lightheaded.

“Thank you, Beau,” Yasha eventually spoke up.

“For what?” Beau turned her head just enough to look at Yasha sideways.

“For bringing me with you today. I admit I was...afraid of seeing you again. I didn’t want to get you in trouble. But this was fun, and I’m glad we did this. So, thank you.”

“Yeah,” Beau managed, surprised at the depth in Yasha’s voice. “Of course.”

Beau knew how much Yasha meant to her personally, but it seemed now that she had underestimated how much she meant to Yasha. The thought pulled at something not quite painful behind Beau’s ribs. She decidedly ignored it and looped her arm with Yasha’s when they started walking again. If the warmth of Yasha’s skin on her own felt a little more like home than it had earlier, if the high in her veins only grew, Beau pushed the thoughts aside for a later date.

Breezing into the vaulted entryway of her father’s house, breathless and grinning, Beau met no resistance. Her skirts were stained with mud and dirt, the hem frayed and torn in places. Cheeks blotched pink from the biting wind of her horseback ride, Beau kicked her boots to the side, scattering mud across the wooden floor. Gathering her skirts up in a bunch, Beau rushed up the stairs in her stockings, gleeful with the feel of freedom pounding in her veins.

As she tripped into her room, closing the door soundly with a nudge of her hip, Beau set about removing her skirts. She was stripped down to her underclothes, halfway out of her stockings, when the small stack of letters upon her desk caught her eye.

Hopeful that at least one might be from Yasha, Beau hastily tugged her stockings off as she tumbled toward her desk. A quick flip through the letters revealed that they were all from people she knew to be acquainted with her parents. Brow furrowing, Beau placed the unopened letters back with slow confusion and caution.

They were all very clearly addressed to her, not her parents.

Beau turned away from the desk and gathered up her clothing, setting it aside in a basket to deal with later. On her bed was a simple yet elegant evening dress, likely picked by her mother since Beau could sense the impending conversation. It was a deep blue, accented with silver embroidery and clasps on the bodice, the skirts few in layers and the sleeves a proper length.

Beau’s lip curled in distaste at the garment. But she hardly had another choice. If she wore breeches to dinner, the meal would be even longer than Beau already wanted. With a heavy sigh, and her back purposefully to the letters across the room, Beau dressed and headed down to the dining room.

Her mother sat at her father’s right, the man skimming through a leaflet of parchment as servants set the table. One maid noticed Beau’s entrance, and she pulled the chair to her father’s left out. Giving the woman a shallow nod of thanks, Beau slipped into the seat and dug her bare toes into the carpet beneath the table. She could rebel in small ways, after all.

“Did you have a good day, Beauregard?” Her mother asked from across the table, eyeing Beau’s windswept hair.

“Yes,” Beau said, picking up her fork and stabbing her cut of meat rather ruthlessly with it. Her mother’s lips twitched with obvious displeasure, but she didn’t scold Beau.

Setting down his papers, Beau’s father steepled his fingers and leveled a look his daughter’s way. Beau stared back for a moment before sighing and setting her fork down.

“Alright, what?”

“Beauregard,” Clara scolded quietly, but Thoreau held up a hand to his wife and didn’t take his eyes from Beau.

“I trust you found the letters in your room,” Thoreau said, not a question.

“I did,” Beau measured her voice, arms folded across her chest.

“They’re invitations from Zadash. I want you to look them over and take them seriously. You’re at an age now where our business partners and friends are looking to you to enter the social scene of trade. These galas and parties are to keep relations maintained and for you to survey potential suitors.”

Beau’s mouth abruptly tasted sour, the mention of marriage banishing her appetite. She was just gone sixteen and already her father and his friends expected her to carry this mantle.

“There’s no need to look as if you’ve swallowed a lemon,” her mother chided gently. “All we’re asking, Beauregard, is that you keep face with our colleagues.”

“Sure, mom,” Beau scoffed, pushing the food around her plate. “That’s all.”

“Now, Beauregard,” her father’s harsh tone began. “This is hardly a matter to throw a tantrum over.”

“Who’s throwing a tantrum?” Beau affected innocently. “I’m just taking in the fact that two days ago I couldn’t be trusted to help balance your books after a deal. But now you want me to woo the Stassman’s over champagne and finger sandwiches!”

“Beauregard!” Thoreau said, voice rising to the point that all the servants in the room froze with it. “That’s quite enough!”

“That we can agree on,” Beau snapped, pushing back from her seat and storming from the room. She ignored the calls from her mother and father back in the dining room as she stomped up the stairs. Slamming the bedroom door for good measure, Beau angrily got out of the blue dress and tugged on her nightclothes. Soft linen pants and a sleeveless tunic that were loose in their cut brought Beau some measure of comfort as she flopped into her desk chair. Staring down at the four letters left for her, Beau picked absently at the corners of the envelopes.

With a resolute tug to her desk drawer, Beau dumped the letters inside its confines and went to bed. The invitations were a problem she could deal with another day.

Four days after the letters arrived, Beau was perched in her window seat, leafing through a book as mid-afternoon sunlight dappled through the leaves of the tree outside her room. The sunny days in Kamordah were few because of the unfortunate topography, so Beau took full advantage of the warmth. She had gone walking and riding through the nearby fields earlier that morning, and now with the window thrown open beside her, took the quiet afternoon for what it was.

Her parents both pestered her about the letters every day. She kept her answers annoyingly vague because the truth was they hadn’t seen the light since she put them in her drawer.

Beau knew she would have to do something about them sooner rather than later.

A knock at her door drew Beau’s attention away from her book (something about a man who had traveled Wildemount and Tal’dorei in splendid adventures).

“Come in,” Beau called permission, perking up when she found a familiar face opening her door.

“Bren! What are you doing here?” Beau grinned at the elder boy as she set aside her book and pushed to her feet.

“Do I need a reason to visit?” He chuckled, his accent a memorable drawl that tripped through his Common and warmed Beau with nostalgia. Bren drew Beau into a quick, firm hug when she reached him. His time in the capital hadn’t changed his sweet, dorky nature like Beau had feared.

Bren stood just a hair taller than Beau, shoulders broad and with a slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes. His red-orange hair fell in a loose ponytail over one shoulder, and the uniform from his school all but glowed with prestige. He had been Beau’s personal tutor when she was younger, traveling from his home in Blumenthal with his mother once a month. Bren had always been bright with books and was the only one who could understand Beau’s attitude. They had a strange understanding of one another, so Thoreau used that to get Beau educated with as little struggle as possible.

About two years ago, Bren had been scouted and selected to attend the Soltryce Academy in the capital. He sent Beau letters whenever he could since moving to the capital, keeping her up to date with his studies and making sure she was continuing her own. To see him here so suddenly was quite the surprise.

“Of course not,” Beau said as she swept a look at him. “But I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I’m on my way to visit my parents back home,” Bren confessed. “One of the higher up professors, Master Trent, retired rather suddenly a few days ago. I only took a few classes with him, but the staff has given us days off while they fill his position. So, I thought I would stop for a visit on my way home.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here.”

A flash of understanding flickered across his face, and Bren clasped a hand to Beau’s shoulder. She didn’t make any move to confirm or deny his silent question, but Bren didn’t seem to need it.

“Why don’t we take a walk?”

Bren led her from the manor and out into the nearby vineyards, the day hot and bright, the grapevines buzzing as insects flit about the leaves. The removed location and her old friend’s undemanding company let Beau’s walls crumble. She told him everything her letters didn’t. About how she passed her days outsmarting her new tutors, pestering her father with ideas for the business he didn’t care to hear. She told him how she drove her mother mad by ruining almost every dress she put Beau in. He seemed amused by all of this, laughing along with her as they walked.

She told him everything about Yasha, about the letters that came almost biweekly, and her replies sent nearly as frequently. Told him about the rivalry between their families that made public interactions risky. But she also told him how those letters were a bright spot in Beau’s days, something to look forward to among the dreary trudge of her family’s expectations.

Their trips to Zadash were what Beau looked forward to most. Yasha’s company was like freedom.

“It sounds like you like Yasha quite a bit,” Bren commented when Beau had paused for breath.

“Of course, she’s my oldest friend,” Beau scoffed.

“That is not the context I meant,” Bren muttered, but breezed past the topic as if it meant nothing. Beau couldn’t keep her thoughts focused on that long enough to parse his meaning out. Her old tutor instead turned the conversation towards the happenings at the capital, entertaining her with his stories now.

When they finally made it back to the manor, the sun was near the horizon and the day cooling with dusk. Stood at the gate of her family’s estate, Beau hesitated to return. She gripped Bren’s hand and turned pleading eyes his way.

“Stay for dinner,” Beau tried not to sound too desperate. “You can leave for home in the morning.”

Something like regret sparked to life in Bren’s eyes as he gently cupped Beau’s hands in his own. His fingers were warm to the touch, and Beau could have sworn they buzzed faintly. She almost asked him if his magic felt the same way Zadash did for her.

“I sent word to my parents that I would return tonight. But I will visit on my way back to school, if I can.”

“How are you going to make it to Blumenthal before dark?” Beau asked, incredulous.

Here, Bren grinned, looking like the excited child she had once known him as. He was still excitable; it was just more amusing for her to see him this way as a nearly grown man. Pulling her into a firm hug, Bren held onto Beau for a long moment, letting her soak up as much comfort as she needed. After a moment, he pulled back and grabbed her hands once more. Giving Beau’s fingers a squeeze, he took a few steps back and turned to the masonry leading up to the gate of the manor.

“Oh, before I show you, I nearly forgot,” Bren’s hand dove into his pocket and produced a letter. He held it out to her with a sheepish grin. “I meant to give this to you before, but we got caught up in conversation. One of the maids had it and asked me to deliver it to you.”

Taking the worn envelope from her friend, Beau’s heart skipped in her chest at the familiar scrawl across the front.

To Beau.

She pressed the letter from Yasha to her chest with breathless excitement. Beau then watched as Bren began a long process of drawing an intricate rune circle on the ground. After a few minutes of this, he paused and looked up at her, grinning.

“This is transportation magic, and will get me home in a flash. Maybe one day, I could take you with me somewhere.”

“Show off,” Beau grumbled, but her eyes must have been sparkling and excited, because Bren just laughed at her warmly and shook his head.

“I will see you soon, Beauregard. Good luck.” Bren drew a last line, and the circle pulsed with pale orange light. He gave her one last wave before stepping into the circle and vanishing. When the light faded, the circle was gone, and Beau stood at the gate alone.

After dinner that evening, Beau sat in her nightclothes at her desk, the letter from Yasha open before her. By candlelight, she read eagerly.

The first half of the letter was in response to Beau’s previous message. Yasha told Beau all about the happenings at her adoptive family’s estate and reassured Beau that she would go to Zadash in two weeks. She informed her of how boring the von Brandt household was without Beau there to keep her company.

The second half of the letter, however, was something Beau hadn’t expected. Yasha informed her she was extremely nervous about the trip to Zadash because of the party invitations she had received. The list of names she provided matched Beau’s exactly, and Yasha wrote that she didn’t know where to begin, as neither of them had done anything like this before. She asked if Beau received any similar invitations and inquired if she would attend any of the events as well.

Setting the letter from Yasha aside after she had finished reading it, Beau quickly opened the drawer beside her and pulled out the letters. She ripped them open one by one, scanning the contents. Though she cared little for this aspect of the family business, Beau knew quite a lot on each family involved. She liked to use that information against people, in quiet and ruthless fashion. It was extremely fun for her to watch from afar as things spiraled after her intervention.

Now, though, she could use this knowledge to ensure she and Yasha had most interesting evenings.

Grabbing paper and her quill, Beau penned a return letter for Yasha.

When Beau walked into her first gala as the heir to the Lionett estate, she was entirely underwhelmed.

It was beautiful, of course, but in such a gaudy way that flaunted wealth she couldn’t help but sneer at it. Ostentatious bouquets of flowers spilled over every surface and tables overflowed with foods that seemed far too posh to actually be consumed. Bubbling alcohol filled crystal glasses held in dainty hands, lending to the atmosphere. A quick sweep of the selection told Beau it was all far too expensive and hardly even the best selection.

A social event, catering to boot-licking rather than actual taste.

With a gusty sigh, Beau was at least grateful that she had ditched the dress her mother tried to palm off on her. Bren had come through for her and sent her the attractive grey suit she commissioned from the capital. It had been far too easy for Beau to sneak it into her luggage for this trip. The dress her mother thought Beau was wearing currently sat stuffed at the bottom of a chest in Beau’s room at the Pillow Trove.

Beau swiped up a glass of sparkling white wine from a server’s tray and tucked herself away near a pillar to survey the ballroom. Yasha would be here soon, so until then, Beau had to occupy herself with whatever everyone else was up to.

They had exchanged a few letters in the two weeks leading up to their trip to Zadash, debating which parties would be best to attend. Some nights overlapped, so they were not expected to accept every invitation. Beau knew her father would have loved to pick which galas his daughter should attend himself, but he seemed at least satisfied that Beau put interest into picking any at all. Thoreau probably thought that Beau was finally taking him and the business seriously.

She laughed into her wineglass at the notion.

“You seem happy,” a familiar voice spoke from over Beau’s shoulder.

Twisting to find Yasha behind her, Beau beamed at her oldest friend, smile bright and genuine. Yasha looked stunning in the fitted, floor-length black dress she wore, all but glowing in the party lighting. Beau blamed the sparkling wine for the bubbly feeling that overtook her. Stood beside Yasha, however, was a new face – one Beau instantly distrusted.

“This is Mollymauk,” Yasha said, seeming to read the flicker of confusion in Beau’s eye. “I met him last time we were in Zadash after you left.”

“Charmed,” Mollymauk said through a Cheshire grin, extending a tattooed hand her way. “Call me Molly.”

Beau grasped Mollymauk’s hand hesitantly, flicking a look to Yasha. She supposed that if Yasha trusted this stranger, he must be alright. Beau was surprised that a bright purple Tiefling, tattooed and in loud clothing, lived so plainly and unbothered in the middle of Zadash. From what she heard and read, Tieflings had quite the prejudice against them in the Empire. His starch white silk shirt and bright red embroidered coat that swept the floor did him no favors for blending in.

“Oh,” Mollymauk crooned, his solid red eyes narrowing at her with interest. “You’re the curious type, aren’t you?”

Beau felt her cheeks flush, and she yanked her hand back. “Fuck off.”

“You can really pick ‘em, Yasha,” Mollymauk cackled.

Yasha’s cheeks went pink as she nudged Mollymauk’s shoulder, muttering something to him under her breath. Whatever she said left Mollymauk grinning cheekily.

“Well,” Mollymauk said, clapping his hands together. “Shall I fetch us some drinks?”

Beau, her glass empty, shrugged as Yasha nodded and shooed the Tiefling off, her cheeks still flushed. With a sarcastic wave and a promise to return soon, Mollymauk was off. The baubles pierced into his horns clinked gently as he did.

“Yasha,” Beau groaned.

“He’s nice, I promise,” Yasha whispered. “He’s just...like that.”

“I noticed,” Beau grumbled, setting her empty wineglass on a passing server’s tray. “But I trust your judgment.”

Mollymauk returned with drinks for them all, and they threw them back rapidly, as party goers were wont to do. Beau knew there was no way she could get through this pompous event without copious amounts of alcohol and Yasha at her side. However, they had an image to maintain for their families so they could keep attending these parties. Mollymauk and Yasha traipsed off to a nearby cluster of individuals to make small talk while Beau headed another way.

“Truly, Lord Baumbach,” Beau sighed as she took a delicate sip of her wine. “The depths of the von Brandt’s betrayal have shaken my father’s faith. It’s hard to believe that they would do this after the years of friendship. It’s rather unfortunate their daughter is here as well. I was so looking forward to enjoying myself, but now I have to skirt her presence for fear of causing a scene.”

Beau sighed gustily and rubbed at her temples in faux distress, casting a dirty look at Yasha’s back for good measure. Thoreau had drilled Beau on numerous occasions regarding which families had taken their side in this whole ridiculous affair. She knew who to pander to in order to make it seem like she gave a shit. Beau also knew that Yasha was not one for starting or maintaining conversation with strangers, especially convincing false conversation. Instead, she let others around her bring the topic up and nodded along with them, letting them fill in the blanks.

As they reached the portion of the evening where everyone else seemed properly drunk, Beau ducked from the main ballroom to meet Yasha and Mollymauk out in the rear garden. In the privacy of the trellises, they fell into each other with laughter. Mollymauk had swiped two bottles of the better wines in attendance, and they had each brought their own glass from inside. When she was three drinks in, Beau let Yasha drag her to her feet and clumsily lead her through a waltz. As they stumbled through the assorted flowerbeds, Yasha grinning broad and brilliant, Beau let her lead as she stared in awe.

Yasha was radiant in the moonlight, the flowers woven into her white braids looked more alive as she spun Beau in circles. The moon caught against the gems of Yasha’s hairpiece and her skin near radiant in the dim. Beau could feel her heartbeat in her fingertips. She figured it was probably the alcohol, but she could have sworn she tasted Yasha’s joy on her tongue from proximity alone.

When Yasha was satisfied with their dancing, they collapsed into each other on a nearby bench, breathless and giggling. By the time they were five drinks deep, Beau let down her defenses enough to get to know Mollymauk.

As it turned out, he was the co-owner of a small tavern on the outskirts of the Pentamarket. He directed the performances the establishment put on for entertainment and did tarot readings on the side. Readings which Beau promptly told him were bullshit to the melodic giggling of Yasha’s agreement.

“You wound me, both of you,” Mollymauk sighed dramatically, swirling his drink around in his glass airily. “Neither of you have even gotten a reading from me.”

“It’s still bullshit,” Beau chuckled, emptying her glass with a quick toss of her head. The carbonation burned up into her nostrils as it slid down her throat. She grit her teeth against it and scrunched her nose.

“Well,” Mollymauk said as he stood with far too much elegance for someone who had consumed as much alcohol as he had. “Me and my bullshit tarot have to be heading off. Some of us actually have to work for a living.”

Beau flipped him off as he gallantly waved goodbye to her and Yasha, a cheeky, wicked grin on his face.

“He’s very nice,” Yasha said, repeating herself from earlier, after he left. “It just takes some time for him to trust people.”

“He’s not that annoying, I guess,” Beau admitted, pouring the both of them another glass of wine.

“I expected this would be a lot more unbearable,” Yasha confessed after they were both halfway through their glasses. “But having you and Molly here made it kind of fun.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Beau said with a lazy grin against the rim of her glass. “I thought I was going to be trying to gouge out my eyes with the dessert spoons from boredom. Plus, pretending to hate you was vastly amusing. You should have seen Lord Baumbach’s face when I was putting on the dramatics.”

Beau mocked his expression, being as over-dramatic as possible to make Yasha laugh. Sure enough, Yasha tossed her head back with a loud laugh, the one that Beau was convinced only she got to see. As they settled more comfortably into the bench they had found hidden among the hedges, still laughing, Beau felt her breath catch in her chest when she looked at Yasha. Moonlight shone down on them from above, the sky cloudless and glittering with stars. The silver beams seemed to favor Yasha, highlighting her skin as a stark, gorgeous contrast to the rich darkness of her dress. The hair ornament Beau had helped her choose years ago still glittered in Yasha’s hair as she moved.

Yasha’s shoulder pressed against Beau’s as they fell in together. She was just as warm as Beau remembered from those years ago in the Pentamarket. Yasha still felt like home, a pleasant hum lingering in Beau’s veins.

That pull between her ribs, right beneath her heart, tugged to life again. Beau’s mouth went dry with the realization that she might be in love. She drained the last half of her glass, trying to ignore it.

As time marched on, Beau continued to attend parties in Zadash under her family’s name, and Yasha under her family’s. They made a game of sorts out of their public interactions. It became a source of entertainment for the pair, acting like they gave a shit about the well-known rivalry between their parents. They would glare at each other from across the room and make shallow remarks on each other's outfits, Mollymauk often goading them on. Once the party goers were too drunk to remember half the night, Beau and Yasha would sneak away to unoccupied portions of the party and laugh themselves silly. Sometimes Mollymauk would join them, somehow worming his way into Beau’s heart with his stupid charm.

The letters continued, all but a lifeline for Beau throughout the dreary days in Kamordah. Yasha never put her own name on the envelopes, merely addressed them to Beau and sent them on their way. Beau knew the familiar scrawl of Yasha’s hand by heart and always caught the mail at the door before either of her parents laid eyes on it.

As they grew and aged, that night of their first party together lingered in Beau’s memories. The feeling that had fluttered to life behind her ribs aged with her. Most days, any thought of Yasha sent the pattern of her heart into a flurry. Beau wasn’t so naïve that she was unaware of her blooming affection for Yasha, but she knew well enough to keep it under wraps. No matter how difficult that task became as time went on.

Aside from her correspondence with Yasha, Beau occupied her time siphoning and smuggling her father’s wine. She endured one too many rejections from him regarding how he might do better business – so she took matters into her own hands. It was working rather well for her so far; she just had to make sure she wasn’t caught.

It was far from what one might call a happy existence, but Beau made do with what she had at her disposal. She was running on luck and hoped to keep the charade going for a little longer.

Less than a week after her twenty-second birthday, however, her luck ran dry.

“Beauregard!” Thoreau’s voice echoed through the halls of the manor. “Come downstairs, now!”

There was an edge to his tone that Beau had learned to be wary of, so she sighed and put her things away. The letter she had been finishing was folded and tucked safely into the pocket of her dress. She stood and made her way downstairs, steps slow in an effort to delay the inevitable conversation looming.

The parlor was warmed by a large fire crackling in the hearth, but it did nothing to banish the heavy atmosphere. Her father’s expression was stony where he stood behind his tall-backed chair, hands planted on the crown. Her mother sat in her more modest chair, hands folded on her lap and back ramrod straight, the picture of dignity and grace. Beau could see her mother’s white knuckles, though, and was not fooled.

Sitting slowly on the edge of the chaise lounge, the rustle of her skirt too loud in the terse silence, Beau eyed her father across the coffee table. The tip of his nose was discolored, the corners of his eyes pinched, fingers tight against the top of his chair – all signs he was not in a good mood.

“Did you think you would get away with this stunt forever?” Thoreau’s voice was even, cold, and removed. “Did you think word wouldn’t get back to me, Beauregard?”

Her stomach twisted unpleasantly, and Beau fought to maintain a mask of innocence. He knew. She wasn’t sure if he knew about Yasha, about the parties, about the letters, or the wine – but either way, this was bad.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play games with me, Beauregard!” Thoreau snapped, coming round his chair with menacing strides. “You’ve been stealing product from me and making profit off it behind my back! I know you think you’re smart, but you aren’t. You’re clumsy and reckless. You’re lucky you haven’t gotten hurt, Beauregard! I don’t understand how you could be so selfish!”

Beau felt her jaw creak with the amount of force she clenched her teeth. She had expected her father would be upset if he ever found out what she was doing, but that didn’t mean his words hurt any less. These were all things she had heard before over the years for her petty rebellion. But at this age, trying desperately to make her own way, leave her own mark on the world, it stung more than usual.

“I had planned to send you to a monastery in the hopes they could whip you into shape. However, your mother has presented an alternative I think would be far better suited for grounding you in reality.”

“What are you talking about?” Beau repeated, her teeth grinding as she spoke.

“After the stunt you pulled with the Stassman’s a few years ago, we’ve been on even worse footing with them than ever,” Clara butted in, her tone firm. “But, graciously, and after much discussion, they’ve agreed that an alliance of union might benefit both our companies. Their son is only two years older than you, and endearingly polite and well-mannered.”

Beau stared at her mother, trying to piece together how the Stassman’s son had anything to do with her, before it clicked.

“You want me to marry him.” Beau’s mouth went dry, her ears ringing faintly with disbelief. Her parents said nothing, but their expressions made it clear she had guessed correctly. “I’ve never even met him!”

“Nonsense, you met him before,” Clara began, but Beau wasn’t having it.

“I was six years old, mother! He’s not the same person and neither am I! Can’t you just punish me like normal people instead of marrying me off because you don’t want to deal with me?”

“Beauregard!” Clara cried, expression crumpling with horror.

“How dare you speak to us that way!” Thoreau bellowed, taking a step closer to where Beau had lunged to her feet. “We have done nothing but provide the best for you, Beauregard. It is hardly our fault you decide to throw it all back in our faces and have a tantrum every time something doesn’t go your way!”

“It is so much more than that, and you know it!” Beau yelled back. “Don’t you dare try to make this all my fault!”

“The decision has been made, Beauregard,” Thoreau said venomously, glaring at his daughter over the coffee table between them. The short distance seemed like miles pulled taut over their furious tension. “Whether or not you like it, you will meet the Stassman’s son the week after our next trip to Zadash. I implore you to be on your best behavior, otherwise we will be forced to execute my solution instead.”

Beau went to retort, but found herself unable to speak. Rage and betrayal and incomprehensible hurt clogged her throat, eyes burning as she fought not to cry in front of her parents. With a mighty huff of exasperation, Beau turned and stormed back to her room. As she climbed the stairs, the letter she had written for Yasha, an attempt at baring her heart and affection for the woman, burned like a leaden weight in her pocket.

Perhaps it was not her parents’ wisest idea to let Beau go to Zadash after the explosive conversation they had. But above everything – even their daughter’s well-being – they prided themselves on maintaining face in the social scene. So Beau went to Zadash with her father and mother as planned. She was scheduled to attend a party halfway through their stay under the Lionett name while her father did business and her mother made house calls to old acquaintances.

Beau had written to Bren, begging him to spare a day for her and come visit in Zadash. She needed him now more than ever.

Yasha was to arrive the night before the party, and the last letter Beau had sent Yasha was before the disastrous conversation with her parents. It was strange walking into all of this, knowing Yasha didn’t have all the details.

Bren arrived the day before Yasha, looking worried and confused as he swept into her hotel room, but bearing what Beau had asked for. He pulled Beau into a fierce hug the moment they met and let her cry against his shoulder. When they finally parted, he asked her quietly for details.

Beau told him everything, her throat burning with a lump of emotion the entire time. He hugged her again when she was finished, firmer than before.

“So, is all of this why you asked me for this potion?”

“Yes,” Beau confessed as she rolled the bottle between her hands. It was warm to the touch, the thin red liquid sloshing easily within the confines. “It’ll work, right?”

“My colleague and his wife are the best alchemists I know,” Bren reassured her. “Yeza and Veth have been working with the Assembly and the Academy for years. If they say it will work, it will work.”

“Thank you, Bren,” Beau breathed, eyes wet with tears she was tired of shedding. “I owe you everything.”

“You owe me nothing,” Bren replied with a firm shake of his head. “You are my dearest friend, Beauregard. I would, and I will, do anything for you. Just promise to keep in touch, ja?”

“Always,” Beau swore immediately. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I would think not,” Bren chuckled. “I expect you to bring Yasha around to the capital sometime so I can actually meet her.”

“You’ll be a big shot by then,” Beau scoffed as she wiped at her eyes. “Will you even have time to spare for little old me?”

Bren laughed along with her, but drew her in for yet another hug. His hugs were warm, solid, and reassuring. Beau had never known her parents to hug her like this, let alone hug her at all. She soaked up every ounce of comfort she could get from Bren.

When he leaned back to cup her face in his hands, planting a quick kiss to the center of her forehead, Beau knew this was goodbye. Not forever, but for a while. If everything went according to her plan, they would be farther apart than they had ever been before in their lives. She would miss him more than anything. Beau had never been to Blumenthal, but her childhood was filled with memories of what it smelled like because it had always clung to Bren’s clothing. There were so many pieces of her scattered joy that connected back to him. To leave him behind would be one of the hardest things Beau ever had to do.

“Good luck, Beauregard,” Bren murmured. “I will see you on the other side.”

Beau corralled Yasha and Mollymauk hours before the party. She hustled them off to the Pentamarket, relying on the bustle of everyday life to provide them the cover they needed. If anyone overheard this plan of Beau’s, everything fell apart. She must have looked as frantic as she felt, because both her friends were eyeing Beau with obvious concern. Even the familiar buzz of the city underfoot failed to soothe her frazzled nerves.

“I’m going to die to tonight,” Beauregard said in hushed tones to her friends as they sat in the corner of a tavern. Not the greatest conversation starter, but to the point.

Mollymauk raised his brows in surprise, and Yasha immediately grabbed Beau’s hand, looking sick.

“Not, like, actually,” Beau rushed to amend. “But I just...I have this potion and—”

“Beau, darling,” Mollymauk interrupted. “Start from the beginning, why don’t you?”

He flicked a pointed look at Yasha’s haggard expression and Beau nodded, swallowing hard.

She explained the underground business she had been running with her father’s wine, the explosive conversation that had happened recently, the marriage her parents had planned without her. Beau told them about how tired she was of living like a lie and a disappointment, how she longed for freedom. She told them about her plans to run away to the Menagerie Coast, away from the clutches of her parents and the Empire – toward freedom.

“As impressed and proud as I am that you’ve orchestrated an underground smuggling chain,” Mollymauk said, leaned in close over the table. “How does all of this relate to you dying tonight?”

Beau unearthed the potion from Bren from her pocket, showing it to them briefly before tucking it away again.

“It will make it seem like I’ve died,” Beau explained. “The effects last for a day. My parents won’t travel with my body, I know that. If anything, they might try to find a cleric willing to attempt bringing me back if they’re desperate enough to see this marriage through. There’s a small catacomb just outside the city where people can either bury or hold their deceased until they’re ready to return home for a formal burial. I’ll likely be there when the potion wears off.”

“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’, Beau,” Mollymauk warned, his solid red eyes concerned. “This seems very risky.”

“It is,” Beau agreed, twisting her fingers together on the table. “But I’m willing to try. Especially if it means freedom, if it means I get to live my life the way I want to live it.”

“Alright,” Mollymauk said after a pregnant pause. “So in true dramatic fashion, you’re going to collapse at the party tonight?”

“My parents can’t claim I’ve run off and ruined their legacy if I have a ballroom full of witnesses to my demise.”

Mollymauk tapped his nose, looking begrudgingly impressed.

“I’m assuming you want Yasha and I to be at the catacombs to help you out of the city after, yes?”

“Only if you want to,” Beau breathed, offering them the chance to be as uninvolved as possible.

“How dare you assume I wouldn’t want to be involved in something as dramatic as this,” Mollymauk simpered. “Especially since I could drop hints and started a rumor about a certain family, one I happen to be well-acquainted with, who manages a graveyard. A family that, say, might provide enough time to get into contact with to let you slip away under cover of night.”

“You’re an asshole and a genius, Mollymauk,” Beau grinned, reaching over to punch his shoulder.

“Thank you, darling,” Mollymauk chuckled. His eyes subtly flicked to Yasha before he stretched and sighed overtly. “Well, I’m off to prepare for a dramatic night of festivities. I’ll see you two at the gala, then?”

With that, Mollymauk swept from the bar, and Yasha and Beau were left alone. Beau’s thoughts were slightly off-kilter, swirling with the ‘probably’ and ‘maybe’ to every thread of her plan. Her head was a messy jumble of attempting to find any detail she might have not considered.

“Yasha?” Beau asked after a heavy moment of quiet, forcefully pulling her mind back to the moment. “Are you okay?”

Yasha drew in a shaky breath, held it, then pushed it out in one, great puff.

“I understand why you’re doing this, why you have to do this,” Yasha whispered, reaching out to grab Beau’s hand again. “But...what if something goes wrong? Beau, what if you don’t wake up? Is this really the only way?”

“No,” Beau shook her head, turning her hand so they could braid their fingers together. Her veins were buzzing like they might catch fire between the hum of the city and the warmth of Yasha’s skin. She fought to stay sane and steady. “There are definitely other ways. But this is the one that guarantees I won’t have my parents after me for the rest of my life. I know it’s...a lot. And I know it’s risky. But I think I’m desperate enough to try.”

“What about...?” Yasha trailed off, biting her lip and looking away. Beau squeezed her hand and thought, fuck it.

“I know it’s scary, Yasha,” Beau whispered. “And I know this is probably the worst timing ever, but...” Beau pulled the letter from her pocket and held it out to Yasha. Her fingers were trembling.

“You don’t have to read it now,” Beau was quick to say, acutely aware of the moment her cheeks flushed pink. “Or ever, actually. I wrote that before everything went to shit, and now it’s just a letter full of things I want you to know after tonight.”

Yasha stared at the letter for a long moment before she looked up at Beau again. Beau fidgeted under her stare before gusting out a great sigh and moving to get up.

“Well, I’ve got a few things I need to get in order before tonight. I’ll see you at the party, okay?” She waited for Yasha to nod, but she looked so worried and pained that Beau paused. Putting her hands firmly on the table, Beau leaned in close until Yasha looked her in the eye. The magnetic shock when Yasha’s mismatched irises locked on Beau nearly took Beau’s knees out from under her. The buzz in her veins sparked and caught fire. She swallowed against the smoke that dried out her throat and kept her voice as steady as possible.

“Yasha, remember. No matter what happens, or what it looks like, I’m going to be okay.”

Asymmetric eyes bore into Beau for a suspended moment, somehow both weightless and grounding all at once.

“I believe you, Beau,” Yasha whispered. For all that she still looked terrified, Beau trusted her.

The party was just like every other gala Beau had attended over the years. It was entirely too pompous, populated with Wildemount’s snootiest, and perhaps one of the most tedious events Beau could possibly imagine wasting time at. She was so nervous about everything planned that she barely had the leftover presence of mind to keep up her act with Yasha. They exchanged only a handful of false distaste, and Beau could only hope it added to the idea that she wasn’t well before she collapsed.

At some point in the evening, when she surfaced from her worrying for a moment, Beau really took Yasha in from across the room. She wore a deep, midnight blue dress, fitted and long and accented with silver. As always, Yasha looked stunning.

She also had the flower hairpin among her braids. For some reason, that fact left Beau choked up.

Mollymauk – bless his dumb heart – stuck near Beau most of the night, keeping idle conversation. It served as a temporary distraction, but Beau was too on edge to do more beyond nod every now and again.

The night was about half over when Beau decided she had drawn this out long enough.

She exchanged a look with Mollymauk, and something far more serious than she was ever used to seeing crossed his expression. He gave her a nod, a quick squeeze to her elbow, and then she excused herself to the bathroom.

A horrible, ornate mirror hung above the sink, and Beau stared at her reflection for a long moment. Her mother had powdered Beau’s face before she left. Some of it hadn’t entirely blended in and now clung to the tip of Beau’s nose. Her hair was styled neatly, a tight braided bun sitting high on her head. She hadn’t put up a fight when her mother helped her into a pale blue dress with a lace-up back. In any context, Beau was beautiful – the perfect picture of a young heiress poised in a social scene. There was a pinch around Beau’s eyes, however, that betrayed her stress. She hoped it made her look like she was sick or in pain to further sell her act.

With a brief hesitation, pushing down all of her inhibitions so she didn’t back out, Beau produced the bottle from her dress pocket. With a sound pop, she uncorked the bottle. Beau toasted her reflection and muttered under her breath, “to freedom.”

She downed the contents in two quick gulps.

With quick motions, Beau washed out the residue in the bottle under the faucet and hid the bottle beneath the vanity. She didn’t want any evidence on her person later.

Emerging from the bathroom, Beau made her way back toward the ballroom. She had just walked up to Mollymauk when her throat started feeling dry. Coughing into her elbow, trying to clear her throat, Beau waved away the concerned looks she got from the couple Mollymauk was speaking to. Her reassurance came out hoarse and did nothing to persuade anyone.

After a minute of barely tracking conversation, Beau registered the discomfort in her chest. Her heart felt too big for her ribs and her lungs too small. She struggled to draw in enough air. There were spots dancing in front of her eyes, and coughing did nothing to help. Even Mollymauk looked genuinely concerned as one of the surrounding party goers flagged down a server for water. Instinctually, Beau started to seek out Yasha, eyes flitting with wild panic.

Mollymauk wrapped a careful hand around her elbow right before the potion truly kicked in.

Her stomach and throat seized as one, and Beau couldn’t hold back the strangled gasp that fled from her. The edges of her vision quickly faded to grey, her heart pounding in her ears with a rapid ringing. Beau was frightened for a horrible, conscious second that she might actually be dying. But she trusted Bren. Through the haze in her head, Beau tried to reassure herself she would be okay. The thought didn’t do much to comfort her when it felt like her lungs were disconnected from her throat.

Mollymauk’s face loomed above her in tunnel vision, his expression pinched with worry and panic as he called Beau’s name. She couldn’t hear him over the pounding in her ears, but she watched his lips shape the word.

Beau fumbled for his hand, fell short, and rapidly succumbed to darkness.

Yasha.

When we met as children in the Pentamarket, I never could have imagined what our friendship would become. You’ve been a constant companion, a loyal pen pal, and my most trusted friend.

Lately, you make me nervous. My heart starts racing when you look at me, when you smile at me, when you laugh, when you reach for me. Everything about you brings me joy and makes me feel like I’m flying.

Truthfully, I think I realized I had feelings for you when we went to that first party in Zadash together. You were wearing this beautiful black dress and you had flowers in your braids, and that hairpin we picked out. We pretended to hate each other, and then slipped away to laugh our asses off about it. I remember the way you looked in the moonlight, and I think that’s when I figured it out.

I know my father said we should never interact with your family again, but you know how much I like to piss him off. Someday soon, if this letter of mine doesn’t scare you off, would you like to go on a proper, public date with me?

If you would rather just continue our friendship, you can toss this letter and forget you ever read it. But these secrets were building up in my heart, and getting too heavy to carry on my own. If I ever find the courage to give you this letter, I hope you’ve read this far. Maybe it means I have a chance.

Always yours,

Beau

The first thing that registered was a distant murmur of voices from nearby. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, her brain feeling as if someone had stuffed it with cotton, but she heard them. Her mouth was unbelievably dry, her tongue like weighted sand paper for how much effort it took to move it.

She must have made some noise or movement, because suddenly a pair of hands pressed against her cheeks.

Her ears rung faintly, scarcely able to hear past it, as the murmurs turned into muffled tones. She needed to tell them she couldn’t fucking understand them.

Beau thought she grunted, or she tried to. It registered finally that she needed to open her eyes.

Blinking against the dry, grittiness that all but glued her eyelids shut, everything appeared blurry and dark at first. She kept blinking, trying to clear her vision and wondering just how long she had slept. The hands on her cheeks were warm, familiar, and gentle. Beau grasped for a memory, a reason she felt like this.

It all clicked back into place moments later. Terror seized her chest, and she fumbled for the hand at her cheek. There was a horrifying moment she worried it belonged to one of her parents – that her plan failed.

“Beau,” a quiet voice, warbled with emotion. “I’m here, you’re okay.”

Her vision finally shifted into focus, the ringing in her ears subsided enough that she made out some words. Every movement registered as sluggish and disconnected, but she was awake. Beau knew she was alive, and Yasha leaned over her – real and whole. Her beautiful, mismatched eyes shone wet with tears but sparkled brightly with relief.

Beau burst into sobs.

Yasha levered Beau upright and gathered her to her chest. Beau all but melted into Yasha’s embrace, desperate for any sort of validation that she was alive, that she almost had her freedom.

When they both regained some composure, Yasha filled Beau in on the past twenty-four hours. Over Yasha’s shoulder, Beau saw Mollymauk keeping careful watch at the mouth of the catacombs. The stone chambers were freezing, Beau dressed only in a white funeral gown. Yasha turned her back for Beau to change into the breeches and cotton shirt they brought for her as she spoke.

“You were right about your parents,” Yasha murmured as Beau tugged the shirt over her head. Someone had removed Beau’s braided up-do from the party, because her hair now fell in brushed out waves over her shoulders. “They’re trying to get in contact with the family Molly knows. They’re trying to bring you back.”

Yasha didn’t tell her what her family’s reason was, she wasn’t even certain Yasha knew. But Beau guessed it probably had something to do with her impending marriage to the Stassman boy. Beau resolutely stopped thinking about it.

“Did anyone say it was poison?” Beau asked as she wound her hair up into a loose bun.

“No,” Yasha shook her head. Beau caught sight of the flower hairpin still tucked among her braids. Her heart pulled weakly in her chest. “Most don’t know what to think. From the outside, it looked like you choked on air.”

There was a tremor to Yasha’s voice that Beau decided she hated. She finished tugging on her boots and moved to place a hand on Yasha’s arm. The taller woman turned to face Beau, her expression pained.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Beau whispered. “I’m sorry I put you through it.”

Yasha reached out and brushed the backs of her fingers down Beau’s cheek, slow and reverent.

“You looked right at me before you collapsed…and then you just went limp in Molly’s arms.” Yasha pushed out a shaky sigh, flipping her hand around to cup Beau’s cold cheek in her warm palm. “I’m just glad you’re alive. I knew you weren’t really dead, but you looked it.”

Yasha paused as she caught her lower lip between her teeth. “I read your letter.”

Beau’s heart skipped a beat. Oh gods.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Beau,” Yasha whispered, her other hand coming up to cup Beau’s other cheek. “I would love that more than anything.”

“Really?” Beau’s voice came out strangled.

“Really,” Yasha promised, her eyes drinking in every inch of Beau’s face. “May I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Beau pressed from her lungs. If she didn’t know any better, she might think she was about to black out again.

Yasha stooped to press their lips together, Beau wrapping her fingers in a clinging embrace around Yasha’s wrists. It did little to ground her, but Beau felt she might float away if she let go. She thought the hum under her skin from mere proximity to Yasha had been unbearable, but actually kissing her left Beau feeling like she was dissolving. Every new, desperate press of Yasha’s lips against Beau’s only stoked the flame building behind Beau’s ribs, only magnified the buzz. One of Yasha’s hands slid to cup the base of Beau’s neck, tugging her closer as Beau released Yasha’s wrist to wind an arm around her waist instead. Beau leaned her weight into Yasha and trusted her to not let Beau fall.

This was a kiss years in the making, a confession built in the secret cavity beneath their hearts. This was a forbidden embrace, a love story banned by families too petty and proud to have a conversation. Yet they persisted and persevered against all odds.

This sensation was like stepping into the hum of Zadash for the first time again, then dialed up until it consumed her senses.

Yasha moved her other hand to wrap around Beau’s waist to all but pick her up. Beau wrapped both arms around Yasha’s neck and pressed up to her toes. She felt like she would never need to breathe air again with the way Yasha’s attention to her lips made her feel alive.

Distantly, Beau heard Mollymauk say something about needing to leave. She ignored him, and Yasha did, too. Yasha’s arms only tightened around Beau’s waist, and Beau couldn’t help the way she smiled into Yasha’s kiss. She didn’t feel like she was on fire anymore – Beau felt like she was fire.

Mollymauk’s hand was on Beau’s arm, insistent. But Beau wasn’t finished with Yasha yet. This was probably the last Beau would see of Yasha for who knew how long. She was going to get every second possible out of this kiss if it killed her. She was going to memorize every last dip and divot of Yasha’s frequency even if it drove her mad. Beau wanted to take the imprint of the city and this woman with her when she left.

Her chest was flush against Yasha’s by the time they broke apart, gasping for air. Beau’s toes were still barely on the ground for all that Yasha was clinging to her. Molly stood a few paces away, a bag on each shoulder and looking fond but impatient.

“If you’re quite done,” he drawled. “We shouldn’t linger much longer.”

“Fuck off, Molly,” Beau groused. But Yasha released her with gentle motions, pressing a lingering kiss to Beau’s forehead. Beau hugged Mollymauk fiercely for all they both acted annoyed and whispered her thanks to him against his shoulder. He didn’t reply, but Beau knew he heard her by the way his arms tightened around her waist.

They fled the catacombs in the darkness, breathless and giddy with their success. The catacombs were on the outskirts of the west end of the Innerstead Sprawl, the grassy slopes surrounding it giving way to winding cobblestone. Mollymauk lead them as they went, keeping to shadows with their heads down and eyes roaming for signs of others who might see them. The hour was late, however, and this part of the city was quiet. Despite the sleepy crawl, Beau could still sense Zadash’s energy buzzing underfoot.

As they came upon the Outersteads, Yasha split off down a wide alley and unhitched two horses from a post. Mollymauk reached into one pack and produced a dark cloak. He stepped up to Beau and tossed it over her shoulders, fastening the clasp when he noticed her trembling hands. As he reached to pull the hood over Beau’s head, Yasha grabbed the second pack from Mollymauk. Beau’s confusion must have been obvious because Mollymauk chuckled at her fondly.

“Yasha, are...” Beau looked between Mollymauk and Yasha. “Are you coming with me? What about your family?”

Yasha pressed her fingers to Beau’s cheek beneath her hood. “I’m coming with you. After the party…I gave it some thought, but I realized I already knew what I wanted. I want to go with you. The world is out there and I want to see it, too. I can’t think of anyone better to do it with.”

“Yasha...” Beau’s voice came out wobbly, but she didn’t care.

“You two are so cute it’s going to make me sick,” Mollymauk sighed. But he pulled Yasha down to press a kiss to her forehead, then turned and did the same to Beau. “Take care of each other, send me lots of letters.”

“As annoying as you are,” Beau grumbled through the tears on her cheeks. “I’m going to miss you, Molly. I’ll write as often as I can.”

Yasha placed steadying hands on Beau’s waist, helping her swing up into the saddle of one horse. She handed Beau the reins before turning to give Mollymauk a firm squeeze of a hug. He held Yasha’s horse steady as she mounted, turning to Beau as he passed off the reins.

“You shouldn’t have any trouble getting out of the city. There’s guards posted at the main gate on the south wall, but they’re more concerned with people entering than leaving. Once you’re past the gate, urge the horses to run. You should have enough distance between this city and you by dawn. Keep your hood up and you’ll be fine.”

Beau and Yasha nodded, thanking Mollymauk quietly as they pushed their horses into a slow walk. He went alongside them for a while, still keeping an eye out.

“You said you were thinking about heading to the Menagerie Coast?” Mollymauk asked, to which Beau nodded. “I’ve got friends there, so I sent a letter ahead of you letting them know you might come find them. Jester and Fjord – both of them are good people. Look for a place called the Lavish Chateau in Nicodranas, you can find Jester there. They’ll help you get settled.“

“Thank you, Molly,” Beau said, looking down at the purple Tiefling who had grabbed hold of her heart. “For everything. We owe you.”

“Just invite me down to your seaside manor sometime and we can call it even,” Mollymauk grinned, patting Beau’s knee.

With a final, whispered farewell, Beau and Yasha left Mollymauk to wind his way back to the streets of the Pentamarket. Keeping their horses set at a brisk walk took all of Beau’s self-control. She wanted nothing more than to dig her heels in and take off into the night. The city still buzzed through her veins, as did the lingering fire brought on by Yasha’s kiss. But she held back as the southern gate loomed before them. As Mollymauk had said, the Crownsguard stood on the outside of the open gate, keeping silent sentinel. They scarcely spared them a second glance as the horses trotted out of the city.

It felt anticlimactic for all of Beau’s previous planning – but she forgot about it all as she took in the sprawling landscape before them.

They got about a hundred feet away before Beau exchanged a breathless, giddy grin with Yasha.

“Ready?” Yasha asked, her fingers visibly tightening around the reins of her horse.

“Ready,” Beau breathed.

She kicked her heels into her horse’s side, calling out an adrenaline tremulous, “hiyah!”

The horses took off into the night. The wind pushed Beau’s hood from her face, the air a rushing embrace billowing through her cloak. Her horse’s hooves pounded with a rhythmic thud against the earth, reverberating through Beau’s bones. It sounded like freedom and felt like flying. The buzz was still pulsing through her, but it was different now. Yasha’s distinct humming presence still lingered beneath her skin, but Zadash’s buzz was gone. This new feeling was a thrum, a steady rhythm she could only compare to the heartbeat of Exandria, welcoming her. This truly felt like magic.

Yasha’s delighted laughter reached Beau’s ears over the rushing wind. Beau tipped her head back, closing her eyes as she breathed in deeply.

The rest of her life lay ahead.

#cr #writing #my writing #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha #mollymauk #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #bren aldric ermendrud #veth brenatto #jester lavorre #caduceus clay #fjord #this story ended my life

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retrogradedreaming · 3 years

Note

heyyyyyy if you wanna write more sk8 prompt / headcanon things,,, may i request (imma give you options because i am ✨indecisive✨and don't know what you'd want to write lol)

okay so shadow giving the group friendship bracelets (idk how you feel about writing for shadow hence the other options because i panicked and this was the first thing i thought of lol)

or langa just sitting down and talking to carla because i feel like he would (also kind of a weird one lol)

or uhhh oH you like matchablossom ! joe feeling self-conscious about acne scars (or having acne as a teen ???) and cherry telling him that he's beautiful (in whatever way cherry would iuygfyuhi)

sorry for three options lol this is also partially a way to procrastinate doing my homework ✌🏻so thank you for providing me a means of distraction anYWAYS HAVE A GOOD DAY iuhgcfghuijokijhgv

Sorry this took a while!! I went with the first prompt for a challenge and it ended up WAY longer than I thought. I hope you like it! And thanks for sending these! I love the other ideas, too, so I might come back to them.

---

If there was anything Shadow knew, it was how to curate an image. At work, he created arrangements and bouquets to say exactly what the customer wanted. When he skated, he was the clown punk of the S community. Until recently, he’d never let those identities overlap. Now that they had, it felt almost like forming a third persona—except this wasn’t one he had to work so hard to maintain.

He’d started making the bracelets offhandedly at work on a slow afternoon at the flower shop, braiding and weaving colorful thread from the supply drawer. They normally used it to dress up orders, but there was so much that they wouldn’t miss a few feet. He didn’t realize that he was making them for his new group of friends until he’d finished the second one, and by then it seemed a waste not to finish the job. Now that he had friends who knew and actually liked both sides of him, he felt like they deserved...something. Something to show them what it meant to him, that it mattered.

And yet, once he’d finished them all, the idea of giving them to everyone made his chest tighten as he thought that maybe they’d all judge him after all. As Shadow, it was easier to pretend not to care, but he couldn’t pretend it wouldn’t mean something—something he didn’t want it to mean—if they did.

Still, the next night he showed up at S, five bracelets laden with charms and beads clacking together in his pocket. He swore he could hear them, even with the crowd around him. His palms sweat beneath his gloves, and he was only grateful that no one else could see how nervous he was behind his makeup. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this nervous, even for a beef. This should be easy. His friends wouldn’t just reject him over some bracelets. And if they took them home and threw them away, well...at least he wouldn’t be there to see it, so what did he care?

“Hey, you good, Shadow?”

Shadow jumped, and it was only when he stopped to look for the source of the voice that he noticed that he’d walked right by the same people he’d been looking for. Reki leaned forward, one foot on his board, looking intently at Shadow and obviously expecting an answer.

“Of course I’m good,” Shadow barked, but Reki didn’t seem convinced. He raised a brow and shrugged, shoving one hand in his pocket and absently raising one of his hoodie strings to put it between his teeth.

“If you say so,” Reki said, settling back against Langa’s shoulder. “You seem kinda weird tonight, though.”

“What do you mean weird?” Shadow shouted, voice low and gravelly. “I’m supposed to be weird! It’s not my fault you don’t know what it means to get into character.”

“He’s right, though,” Miya chimed in. “It’s outside your normal weirdness, and it’s kind of creeping me out.”

“I didn’t even do anything!” Shadow exclaimed, and his heart sank. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of, and part of him was already shoving his plan to the back of his mind, ready to leave the bracelets in his pocket and toss them himself once he got home. He could do it, and no one would know but him.

“It’s true,” Cherry mused from where he stood in Joe’s shadow. “You don’t usually look so...bothered when you’re here.”

“Listen—” Shadow began, whipping his hand from his pocket, only to hear a soft clacking as two of the bracelets hit the ground—the one he’d intended for Reki, bright red and decorated with beads of different sizes and a bright orange alstroemeria flower charm, and the other for Langa, soft blue thread woven simply with a white gerbera.

“What’s that?” Miya asked before Shadow could scoop them up and hide them again. He almost did anyway, almost tried to pass them off as some trick meant for a beef he wasn’t even skating tonight. In the end, he resigned himself to risking every single friendship he’d built over the past several months, and sighed as he held out the bracelets to Reki and Langa.

“I made them,” he said, and his voice lost some of the edge he reserved for his S persona. “Sorry I didn’t wrap them or anything. I didn’t wanna do anything too fancy, y’know? Anyway, if you hate it, at least wait until I’m not around to get rid of ‘em.”

Reki took his without hesitation, Langa picking his own up out of Shadow’s palm like he might break it if he weren’t careful. Reki twisted the beads between his fingers, rubbing them over the different sizes like they were a miniature skating course as a grin spread across his face. Langa immediately tried putting his on, fumbling until Reki paused long enough to help him tie it around his wrist.

“It’s soft,” Langa said, running his fingertips over the delicate braiding, and that told Shadow all he needed to know. Langa was particular about textures, and he always stuck with the same clothing brands because he knew how the fabric felt. Shadow knew to take it as a compliment when Langa left the bracelet on.

A weight felt like it had lifted from Shadow’s shoulders, and he let himself relax. He took the last three bracelets from his pocket, offering the next to Miya. The vibrant purple thread stood out next to the others, and it was the only one he’d added an extra charm to—a silver cat paw—along with the freesia he’d chosen for the youngest member of their group.

“I didn’t know a slime could make something so tasteful,” Miya remarked as he let Shadow tie it around his wrist.

“Watch who you’re calling a slime,” Shadow growled, though there was almost no bite behind the words. “I can always take that back.”

“After all that just to take it out of your pocket?” Miya scoffed, flicking the paw with a finger. “You wouldn’t.”

It was true, Shadow thought, as he turned to give the last two to Cherry and Joe. He wouldn’t dare take them back when his friends actually seemed to like them, and even more than that seemed grateful to receive them. It was what he’d hoped for, but he’d also learned by now to hope for the best and expect the worst so he didn’t get too disappointed if things didn’t work out. After all, so few things in his life had happened as he expected, for better or worse, and now, as he handed over a thin pink and brown woven bracelet and another green and woven like thick rope, he wanted to savor this thing that had.

“Hey, it’s not a cherry blossom,” Joe pointed out as he peered sideways at Cherry’s bracelet.

“Yeah, I thought it would be too obvious,” Shadow said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“The zinnia is appropriate,” Cherry said, eyes roving over Shadow’s handiwork as if he were trying to find fault. And yet, when he took his eyes away from it, he gave Shadow a smile that Shadow recognized as the same one he practiced for most others at S—except this one reached his eyes. “A symbol of acclaim and enduring friendship, correct? Certainly more refined than jealousy.”

“What do you mean?” Joe demanded when Cherry gestured to the bracelet in his hands.

“A yellow rose stands for jealousy,” Cherry said matter-of-factly.

“It means friendship, too,” Shadow cut in before their squabbling could turn into a full blown argument. What he didn’t say was that he knew yellow roses also symbolized jealousy. He worked at a flower shop, after all, and had put together enough subtle spite bouquets for people forced into occasions they didn’t want to attend that he of course knew all the various meanings of different flowers. Roses were some of the most versatile, and he’d hoped no one would pick up on the alternate meaning—the one that said he envied Joe’s strength as much as he valued his friendship.

“Put it on for me,” Cherry said, holding the bracelet out to Joe and lifting the hem of his pants to reveal his ankle.

“Sure, princess,” Joe said, taking the bracelet and stooping to the ground.

“Where’s yours?” Langa asked, eyes migrating to Shadow’s wrists, clad only in his spiked gloves. Shadow followed his gaze, turning his hands over absently, as if he didn’t already know he’d never made himself a bracelet.

“I didn’t make myself one,” he said. “It’s kinda weird to make a friendship bracelet for yourself.”

“I don’t think so,” Langa mused. “You’re our friend, so you shouldn’t be the only one without a bracelet.”

“Hey, yeah,” Reki said, grasping Shadow’s hand and inspecting his wrist like if he looked hard enough, a bracelet would materialize.

Shadow pulled his hand away. “It’s not a big deal. I made those for you guys because you’re the only people who know this me and the other me. I just wanted to do something to show that I...well…”

“That you care,” Miya supplied, and Shadow was glad that his mask covered the heat that rose to his face.

“Whatever,” he muttered, only to catch Reki and Joe both grinning out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s still not the same if you don’t have one,” Reki said, tapping at the beads on his own bracelet. He thought for a moment, and just as Shadow opened his mouth to say it was fine, that he’d make himself one eventually if it was that big a deal, Reki’s face lit up. Before Shadow could ask about it, the group was already dissolving to skate, each person wearing their respective bracelets.

The next time they gathered at S, Reki gave Shadow a gift of his own—a bracelet woven in orange thread bearing a yellow chrysanthemum.

#'mini fics' i said #not one of these has been mini #i'm a little nervous it's ooc because i've never written shadow but it was fun to write!#also hope this helps while you suffer through robinson crusoe #sk8 the infinity #sk8 shadow #hiromi higa #sk8 fanfic #fanfic asks #that-was-anticlimactic

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m-y-fandoms · 4 years

Text

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu x reader (fluff + angst) - (COMMISSION)

When I get a commission that isn’t Danganronpa related, I keep the client’s name private and switch names and some paragraphs around to fit a Danganronpa character so you all can enjoy it. This commission best fit Fuyuhiko’s personality, so here you are - Admin Kokichi

SFW, gender-neutral reader

I walked through the halls of Hope’s Peak Academy, still toweling off my scalp after a shower in the gym’s locker room. Heavily I sighed, thankful for the much-needed sustenance that was soon to come when I finally reached the cafeteria. Sport after sport, activity after activity, it really wore the body out. Hope’s Peak really stressed the importance of the Ultimate-level students honing their skills. That’s why we were there, after all. Yes, we took general education classes like any normal student, the basics like the many different types of mathematics, general art, history, government, sciences and all that, but each student in the Main Course had several hours a day blocked out of their schedule dedicated to their specific talent and that talent only. It was rigorous, obsessive, and exhausting.

At times like this, I envied those who sat down for their talent, like animators and gamers, for I, the Ultimate Athlete, was always on my feet. Not that I’m saying art and gaming don’t take a lot out of those students, I just wanted a break from physical exertion once and awhile. My brain wasn’t stimulated quite as much as I’d like. Even the other athletes, like Aoi Asahina, the Ultimate Swimmer, and Akane Owari, the Ultimate Gymnast, had one set training area, and trained one sport for long sessions during the school day. As the all around Ultimate Athlete, the administration of Hope’s Peak had me training lots of different sports and exercise methods in short bursts. This meant running across campus from the pool to the dojo, from the gym to the baseball field, from the wrestling mat to the biking trails. Every day, a different muscle was sore, but I suppose I can’t really complain. It is an honor to be selected to attend Hope’s Peak. I mean, there were hundreds of regular students paying extraordinary rates to attend, just to be mocked and berated for being Reserve Course students anyway. I was lucky to have been chosen as the Ultimate Athlete at all, considering they already had so many types of athletes here. I think the appeal of my talent was that instead of being the best at one sport alone, I was above average at every single sport there was. Well, there was no use wasting time dwelling on my burnt-out body, because immediately after lunch, I was expected back at the gym with no delay. The longer this walk took, the less time I had to eat.

Picking up the pace, I sprinted - something I excelled at - through the courtyard that connected the Reserve Course and Main Course wings for what was a well-known shortcut to the cafeteria. Reaching the other side, I slowed my pace, my eyes landing on a curious scene that caught my attention. Three Reserve Course girls - distinguishable by the ash-black of their identical uniforms as opposed to the customizable (and optional) Ultimate uniforms - were whispering in hushed tones in front of one of the cream-colored pillars of the courtyard surrounded by some well-tended flowers. They trembled slightly, a bit jittery it seemed, and were clearly gossiping profusely like the gaggle of hens they resembled. There was malice and fear in their expressions as they looked back and forth from the object of their scrutiny then back to each other to deliberate and discuss. My eyes followed their line of sight to the opposite side of the courtyard, where the pond and benches sat. Of course, it was him. How did I not notice him as I passed by from that end? I must have been in some hurry.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, the Ultimate Yakuza, sat on the ground leaned up against a wall on the opposite side of the courtyard, scrawling notes into a notebook in his lap. His brow was creased, fairly engrossed in his studies. I could tell he heard the girls chattering, they weren’t being subtle and weren’t very far away, but Fuyuhiko was paying them no mind.

“Do you think his dad threatens the teachers if they give him a bad grade?” A blonde gasped, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

“Probably, I wouldn’t put anything past that clan of brutes,” another plain-looking girl whimpered in reply.

I stopped to watch the situation play out, hiding behind a nearby pillar and ready to step in if it continued, as rumor-spreading bullies were something that I just couldn’t stand by any means. I knew Fuyuhiko could handle himself… err… maybe I was just being a bit nosey to be honest.

After a few more minutes of the clique getting louder and bolder with their insultingly toxic babble, I saw Fuyuhiko’s head snap up, throwing them a pointed glare. The flock gasped in unison, with looks of horror on their faces, and scrambled away past me and into the hall. I smirked merrily: now that reaction was the more typical one. I was just thinking how brave these girls must have been to be provoking a Kuzuryuu in the first place. Many people in the school, and just the country in general were terrified of them. I myself felt a bit indifferent about Fuyuhiko. He was in my home room and never caused trouble.

The Kuzuryuu Clan was the largest and most powerful Yazuka clan in the country, with ties to national governments, huge drug rings, and a hand in many influential corporations throughout the country. People knew to fear them and not to mess with them, like any gang. Fuyuhiko was the only son of the head of the clan, and next in line as its leader, but if you’d spoken more than two words to the guy, you’d see that it was wise to respect him, but there was no need to fear him. In fact, his little sister Natsumi, who terrorized the Reserve Course girls, probably was the reason Fuyuhiko’s reputation around the school was smeared by association. People saw her bitterness, her jealousy, her need to harass or threaten anyone who she felt inferior to, her horrible attitude, and probably transferred that fear over to her older brother, thinking the siblings must be similar. It was just ridiculous. If anything, he was an asshole at times, but not dangerous.

Plus, how could someone be afraid of a guy who looked like that? Fuyuhiko was both adorable in some ways, and handsome in others. His cute side came out through in his meager height, the way his pale skin blushed easily when flustered, the softness of his blonde hair, the small pout he wore at times. He didn’t even have ink yet like most Yazuka. His skin was milky and untouched. On the other side of the spectrum, he was handsome and manly in the way he spoke, the elegance of his expensive suits and ties, his intelligence, the way he carried himself, his sharp and intense gaze. I always thought it was more reasonable to be attracted to him rather than afraid.

He did have a bit of an attitude problem, but I often felt bad for him because of it. The quipping, feisty exterior he presented was clearly a coping mechanism, a method of self-defense after years of pressure to be a pillar of his family and being misunderstood by his peers. It probably wasn’t easy to be expected to watch or even perform drug deals, interrogations, or even murders - who knows? Then after all of that, you come back into normal society and get judged for being tiny with a baby face behind your back while people are scared of you to your face.

He projected the anger he was taught was normal, and used the years of being raised in the Yakuza to adapt and mold his personality. He often cursed out or blew up at others, was stubborn and hard to work with, did his own thing, and despite how well he thought he hid her, his personal bodyguard being around the corner ready to kick someone’s ass at a moment's notice deterred many potential friendships. Most of our home room were friends with him, but I rarely talked to him. I really only made myself known to a few of the quieter kids in our class like Komaeda and Tsumiki, even Peko herself at times… but other than them I mainly kept to myself.

I just wished…. he’d talk to me first. I was desperate to get to know him without the fear of feeling like I was bothering him.

Ok, so maybe I wasn’t as indifferent as I let on before. Now that I’ve given myself away, I suppose I’ll just say it:

Yes, I was a bit biased on the topic of Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu because… I had a massive crush on him.

And it was hard, so very hard to see him in class everyday, at the dorms, around campus, and not be able to make those feelings known. I couldn’t tell if it was fear of judgment, fear of rejection, fear of him just cussing me out until I pissed myself, maybe a mix of all three? But now we were alone… save for Peko, who was undoubtedly spying from somewhere close by. Why should I care what anyone thinks? I was sure he’d never tell anyone if he rejected me anyway. He wasn’t the gossiping type, and he only told people what he needed them to hear. Steadying myself, I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the decorative colonnade. As I shakily stepped across the grass, lunch became the last thing on my mind, and I approached him. He didn’t even look up until I began to speak, cowardice lining my tone.

“H-hey,” I mumbled, towering above him like some weirdo. He squinted in suspicion, a small pout settling onto his lips as he silently acknowledged me. “Are you studying?!” I yelled more than spoke, my nerves taking hold. He rolled his eyes, holding the notebook up with one hand. I couldn’t help scanning him, taking in the way the sun bounced off the yellow fluff of his buzz cut, the way his chest heaved slowly, the cute little mole under his bottom lip. I was sweating, wondering if Peko would knock me out for getting too close, but also entranced in his hazel eyes.

“What does it look like?” He huffed, irritated by my very presence. He probably came out hime to be alone, after all. Now he had to deal with me right after those insufferable girls.

“Ah, haha, yeah, well anyway, I wanted to say that those girls were obnoxious and wrong. You shouldn’t let their words get to you. They’re meaningless. Y-you shouldn’t care about what they think. I-” I spoke quickly, nervously, and he parried my words instantly, tired of me wasting his precious time.

“I don’t give a shit what they think. Since you’re such a fuckin’ creep and were apparently watching the whole time, you must have seen me scare them off, yeah? I obviously don’t care, and I don’t need some rando to come give me a fuckin’ pep talk! What do I look like to you, some fuckin’ kid that got his feelings hurt by some bullies? Fuck those bitches and fuck you! If that’s all you had to say, get lost,” he spat, and I flinched backwards. He was feeling vulnerable, and biting back was the only thing she knew, like an abused dog lashing out at its rescuers. I knew not to take it personal, that Fuyuhiko sometimes said things he didn’t mean out of anger. I knew all of this, but I was still taken aback and thoroughly intimidated. Almost as soon as he’d snapped at me, he settled back into his calm studying, opening the notebook again. That was Fuyuhiko, a little ball of rage that could be turned on and off like a switch.

“Well, I, um-” I cut off my own words, swiftly turning on my heel and marching out of the courtyard, clutching my bag like it could save me from this humiliation.

“Fuck… I’m such an idiot.” I shook my head, involuntarily replaying my blunderous attempt to ask Fuyuhiko out in my head over and over again. Could it even be called that? I mean, I didn’t even get to the asking out part before I made a complete fool of myself and pissed him off. I was now rushing through the corridors of the first floor, trying to make it to what was my last class of the day after a very short lunch and some extremely demanding training. The gardening class was mainly unsupervised and casual, but I hated the feeling of being technically late nonetheless.

The term “class” is used loosely hime. At Hope’s Peak, each student was required to choose an elective course that “gave back” to the community or school in some way. It was thought to boost the school’s reputation, along with the student’s resume. That was the sentiment the school held, anyway. Some students volunteered at local retirement homes, some, like the eccentric Gundham Tanaka, lead clubs that tended to rescue animals and raised them. Others tutored exchange students in Japanese, some did maintenance around the school to earn the credit. I chose the gardening club, where students would break up into little groups and tend to all the plants, flowers, grass, vegetable gardens, and courtyards on and around campus. Sometimes we even took “field trips” to tend to other local greenery. I found it to be the most calming and quiet option of all the electives. There was very little human interaction, and it was satisfying to see the (literal) fruits of your labor grow.

Today I would be tending to the garden in the secondary courtyard behind the school. This one was more hidden away, rarely ever used, and that’s what I loved about it. But… as I turned the corner, my box of gardening supplies in hand, I froze dead in my tracks, shuffling back to hide behind the cover of the wall.

Fuyuhiko was sitting there on his hands and knees, pruning weeds from the garden. The coat of his uniform was discarded, and she sat in only his slacks and a button up dress shirt with a tie. He had little towels folded up as make-shift knee padding, green gloves on, and was leaning into his work with such fervor.

What?! I screamed internally, panic taking hold of me. I had been a member of the gardening club for months, and not once had I seen him on the class roster or in rotation. I’d been to every station, been assigned every task at least once, and I’d never been paired with him. So of course, on the day I was thoroughly humiliated in front of him, here he was, ruining what was supposed to be the most relaxing part of my day. I considered leaving, simply lying about my hour of gardening time on the school’s check-in portal, but something in me told me to stay. I sat there, fighting with myself, nearly collapsing with anxiety, and then he began to speak, tearing my from my thoughts:

“Now now, how are you gonna grow big and strong if you keep lettin’ these little punks fuck you up like this…?” He huffed, almost fatherly in his tone. I peeked around the corner, wondering who the hell he was talking to. Maybe this shift wouldn’t be so awkward with a third party to distract me from him, I thought, but when I hazarded a glance, not a soul was in sight, save Fuyuhiko. Taking a closer look, I noticed his calloused hands nestled around the leaf of a plant, and he tsk’d, observing the bite marks left by pestiferous insects and small animals. He was talking to the plant?! My cheeks started to warm up, my heart melting at the realization.

Fuyuhiko began to hum, then to sing softly, a lullaby of sorts for this injured little green darling. Holding my breath, I nearly crumpled against the wall, feeling my flush spread from my cheeks to rush throughout my entire body. This is so fucking cute, I thought to myself, glancing once more, perhaps a bit riskily. I was getting greedy, greedy for even a glimpse of seeing him in the state of happiness I knew he deserved. I couldn’t care less if Peko was sneaking up behind me with a bamboo sword at the ready.

When I looked, he was smiling, truly smiling. I’d never seen him smile like that before, a smile birthed out of an innocent and serene joy, and now I never wanted it to stop. There was no way I was turning back now.

I took a few steps back down the hall, then stomped loudly toward the courtyard, allowing him to save face by thinking I had only just approached. I knew I would be in for quite the sour retaliation if he knew I had caught him singing. He may have even gotten up and left. He looked up, still leaned over his plants but now dead silent as I entered, and when he realized who I was, his breath caught in his throat. Another expression I rarely saw from him: one of being caught off guard.

“Hey… so, I didn’t know you were in the gardening club? I’ve been in it since the start and I’ve never seen you.” I set down my box next to him and pulled out some gloves. I was hoping that acting like earlier never happened was the best course of action. Something can’t be awkward if it doesn’t exist, right? Luckily, he played along… or rather, just didn’t bring it up, either.

“Uh, yeah. I was hoping to avoid all the bullshit of the whole, volunteer-but-not -actually-because-it’s-a-requirement class thing altogether. I just don’t have time for this shit, but my academic advisor caught on and forced me into gardening. It was the last one with spots left open…” he grumbled, as if he weren’t absolutely loving it mere moments ago.

“Huh… and they aren’t penalizing you for, you know, losing all those points from the first few months you missed?” I inquired bravely. Maybe those girls were right earlier about his father threatening professors…?

“Nah, I guess not. My advisor is super chill. She worked something out…”

“That’s lucky…” my words trailed off, and we both got to work. The longer the silence grew, the more the awkward energy imposed itself on both of us. I could tell that he was thinking back to our earlier encounter by the way he made eye contact and quickly snatched his gaze away, the way she would open his mouth then close it without a hesitant word.

Half an hour passed, and my nerves were beginning to stand on edge. What was more daunting than being alone with your crush? Being alone with your crush who verbally ripped you a new one that same day.

Now mere inches away from him, focusing in on the same patch of flowers, we both reached for a small watering can at the same time, and our hands touched briefly, fleetingly before he snatched his own back, a shade of pink dusting his soft cheeks. He turned away, embarrassed, but I couldn’t have been more excited by the small interaction. Still, for both our sakes, I felt the need to break the silence.

“You… you seem happier - now, I mean… as opposed to earlier today…” It was time to bring up the elephant in the room. I saw his body tense up, his spine stiffen, and he turned to face me, dirt staining his forearms and a swipe on his cheek where he’d scratched an itch earlier.

“Yeah… I should probably apologize for that, bein’ a dick and all. I was just, really pissed and stressed. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that… it’s just… those stupid, loud-mouth, air-headed-” I saw his fists clench, his gloves squeaking a bit under the pressure. I continued where he left off, not wanting him to force himself to relive the gossip or the anger attached to it.

“It’s fine, seriously. I get it. There will always be assholes like them in the world. I don’t blame you for being upset. Besides, I’m sure it was weird to have a stranger just approach you like that, trying to give you unsolicited advice and bothering you by-”

“Well, you’re not really a stranger, are you? I’ve seen you around plenty of times… and you’re in my home room.” He spoke reluctantly, clearly fighting against the compulsory need to deflect and defend.

“O-oh, yeah, you are. I didn’t think you’d notice.” I felt my heart rate speed up. Of course I’d seen him many times in the back of the classroom, but I had no idea he’d given me even a first glance, much less a second one.

“Of course I noticed. Sports, right? Exercise, fitness, an’ all that?” He nodded, smirking. God, he was so hot… I didn’t know how to contain my excitement. I was trying my best.

“Yeah, exactly. Sports, exercise, fitness. That’s me.” I chuckled a bit, finding myself more and more drawn to him with every second spent in his presence.

“Shit’s cool. I can respect someone who’s disciplined and keeps in shape. I’ve seen a few of your games,” he let slip.

“You have?” I immediately picked it up, a shiver of anticipation running over my skin and setting my pores on fire. Fuyuhiko wasn’t on any of the teams I played for and his Ultimate talent had nothing to do with sports. He wasn’t the type to go watch a sports game for fun, and didn’t have the free time for it anyway.

My eyes widened slowly, and I’m sure he could see the moment I made the connection deep inside myself almost as soon as I’d made it.

That was the day I realized that Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu liked me back.

An obscene shade of red flooded onto his face and his nose scrunched up, his voice cracking as he spoke:

“Stop starin’ at me like that! The fuck’s wrong with you?!”

216 notes · View notes

kurlyfrasier · 4 years

Text

A Tramp for a Lady

Raph x Reader

Synopsis: You’re a sister to all but one. He’s done all he can to hide that fact from you, but you’ve decided that you’re done being his sister.

Warnings: Implied intercourse and mention of sexual assault, nothing explicit though. A tiny bit of cursing? I’m just gonna go ahead and rate this PG-13. Usually I like to keep it family friendly, but this one is not quite so family friendly. There’s also a comment about how reader dresses like a lady; please don’t be offended by the old-school ‘lady’ comment, we can dress however we want and still be a lady.

Word Count: 4156

Raph was greener than his own skin with envy. He had met you years ago. Before they saved the city. Before the city knew who saved them. Before the world knew mutants existed. Before mutants were accepted.

It surprised him, honestly, how most of humanity accepted mutants, especially him and his brothers. Now they were the best personal security money could buy. Yeah, they still did patrol and kept the streets as clean as they could, but when the idea hit that him and his family could start making some good money and get a home topside- out of the smelly sewers and off the second-hand furniture- Raph’s mind went wild with ideas of how they could be more than shadows. Turtle Security was his best idea. He did research and got the okay from his father- even got permission to lead. It was his idea and his business, so Splinter said he would be in charge and held responsible for everything pertaining to Turtle Security.

His first stop to start his business was Donnie. He needed his own computer. Something he could use for most of his interactions and something that would work for security cameras. It helped that Donnie said he would help with anything he needed and that it sounded like a good plan. His second stop was Mikey. His youngest brother needed something to do besides skating around the tunnels all day now that he was tired of all the topside attention everywhere he went. As expected, Mikey was up for keeping people safe and getting paid for it. Leo was his last stop. He needed a second in command, especially if he got double-booked. Raph figured most of the work he might end up with would only need himself and one other (if that), but thought if his business thrived more than he was thinking it would, then maybe the four of them could work together- depending on how much security a person deemed themselves worthy of.

It barely took a few months for his business to thrive. Word spread fast through New York City, especially when it was well known they saved the city. Raph had morals though, and would never accept business from anyone who deserved what was coming to them.

Tonight (a few years later and a spacious home topside), Turtle Security was in charge of keeping a drunk idiot from being harmed by his father’s enemies. The guy’s name was Roger Vance and he would not stop talking to you, flirting with you, and touching you. Nothing that would be cause to break his hand: an arm around your shoulders, a hand gently resting on your back, moving your hair out of your eyes- things like that. But Raph hated it. You deserved better than a trust fund kid.

To Leo, Donnie, and Mikey you were the little sister they adored, but to him you were so much more. You were his light in the darkness, his Northern Star, his- well, to put it frankly- you were his reason for living. Every day he looked forward to your smile. Every day he wanted to hear you laugh. A day without you was a day without the sun.

But he had never told you that and he never would. You were the perfect lady and he was a tramp. You had said so yourself. Yeah, you were probably joking about it and yeah, he was using other women to keep you off his mind- not that it worked. When he looked at them, he saw your face. When he slept with them, he thought of you. When the next morning arrived, the guilt ate up his soul- what little he had left of it anyway.

He always played the gentlemen; hating the thought of any girl taking the “walk of shame” down his halls. He refused to allow anyone to call it that and therefore always bought them breakfast and a ride home. He wasn’t dumb. He knew he was just a notch on their bedpost more than anything. Sleeping with a mutant was something to brag about apparently, but he felt he needed to take advantage of that. Anything that could possibly get you off his mind, even if it was only a moment. Or maybe it was just to fulfill his sick fantasy of you and him together. Either way, it wasn’t working very well.

Why you had decided to go to the very bar he had to follow this numbskull to was beyond him. With a clenched jaw, he looked away from you and Roger, scanning his surroundings. He doubted anyone would try to make the jump on Roger at this place. It seemed...relaxed, for the most part. The place was fairly large, tables made from a rich mahogany to match the bar. The walls gave a warm, relaxed feel and tonight there was a jazz band playing on stage in front of the dance floor where people were dancing- really dancing. Not the fun hip-hop, dirty, or breakdancing kind. But the kind where the man twirled the girl and they face each other, stepping in time with the music. Your favorite kind. More than ballet, the dancing you got paid to do.

Raph had to stop himself from growling as he imagined dancing with you. He had taken lessons immediately after you had asked him to dance one night (on your twenty-first birthday, no less). He refused, not wanting to embarrass himself, so you danced with Mikey instead. Who made you laugh as he stepped on your toes. But you were a patient teacher and Mikey gobbled up the attention from his favorite sister. You had never asked him to dance again and he regretted ever refusing anything you asked of him.

Roger whispered something in your ear, forcing Raph to step in your direction in case the idiot took it a little too far. You noticed his movement and met his gaze determinedly, fire in your eyes. He stumbled. You had been doing that a lot lately; daring him to interrupt whatever you were doing. A second later your hardened gaze melted as you looked at Roger with a smile, nodding at whatever he had said.

Then you were both headed to the dance floor. Raph couldn’t help but follow your swaying hips underneath that red dress- his color red. Blood red. The top half fit like a second skin while the skirt fell loosely around your waist to halfway down your thighs. He didn’t even want to think about how low your V-neckline was- not that it was showing much, you dressed like a lady, after all. The straps tied around your neck, leaving your back bare. He knew your hair hid the cute bow he would find there if he were to untie-

“Ow! Sis is lookin’ good tonight,” Mikey voiced excitedly over the comm.

“Should we be worried?” Donnie asked warily. He was scouting the block around the bar while Leo stayed up on the rooftops in case something happened.

“If that bastard touches her-”

“Relax, guys,” Raph cut Leo short in an attempt to calm himself just as much as his brother. “He hasn’t done anythin’ disrespectful.”

“Yet,” Leo growled the very same thought Raph was having.

“Dudes, let her have some fun, geez.” The brothers could hear Mikey’s eyeroll. Raph, on the other hand, witnessed his brother roll his eyes from across the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tonight was the night you were going to force Raph to see what he was missing out on. You had gone over to your brothers’ home that morning and easily got Donnie to spill the beans about who their client has been lately. It was perfect. Better than you thought was possible, really.

Roger Vance was about your age and was apparently a regular at Nightly Notes, a bar downtown just a couple of train stops down from your apartment. So, with a skip in your step and mischievous smirk on your lips, you said your goodbyes after breakfast- not wishing to stumble upon whoever was about to step out of Raph’s room- and found yourself wearing the new dress you got to pique Raph’s interest. There was no doubt in your mind that it would catch your favorite terrapin’s eye- the dress was in his favorite color, after all.

It was all too easy to catch Roger’s attention, especially after telling the bartender you wanted to buy the man a drink. You wanted to cringe. Roger had nothing on Raph. He was a complete moron, smelled like nasty old man cologne, and felt greasy every time he touched you. But you had to stay strong. You were on a mission. One you had been fighting for years.

When you were younger, around ten years ago, you fell into an open man-hole, twisting your ankle when you landed wrong. You had run away from the foster home in a panic. The man- if one could call him that- had touched you in places nobody should ever touch a girl. At least, that’s what your mom had told you before the accident when you were young. So you ran with nothing but the clothes on your back. You were still unsure of how you even dodged his slimy hands that day. All you knew was that you were never going back.

It wasn’t much longer when your brothers found you. They were shocked, to say the least, but welcomed you with open arms for the most part. Even Splinter, who you still called ‘dad’ to this day. Raph, on the other hand, was a different story. He wasn’t with the others when they found you. In fact, that’s why they were heading topside, because they meant to go looking for Raph. Apparently he had been gone for a couple of days and they had gotten worried.

They became the family you thought you were never going to have again. They made sure you got back into ballet. To this day, you still had no idea how they paid for those lessons, or if they even did. They made sure you got an education just like all the other kids- they followed you to and from school every day. They took care of you during your first period. They coddled you during your first break-up and all the others after- not that there were very many. They helped you get into a specialty arts school for ballet. They congratulated you for every little proud moment you had and always bought you flowers for every rehearsal. They were always at the first night’s rehearsal. Even Raph. He was the one that made sure you could defend yourself. He was the one that got you your apartment close to the studio you danced at, saying it was time you had your own space. Time you didn’t have four giant, over-protective brothers holding you back from having a real life. He wanted the best for you, they all did. So, you accepted the keys to your apartment with feigned excitement, not wanting to hurt his feelings. Especially since he made sure you were topside before they were.

But he didn’t know you loved him. That you didn’t want to be anywhere else but with him- all day, everyday. You planned to change that tonight, though. Tonight you were going to push all of his buttons. Out of each of the boys, he was the most protective.

Your only worry was that this could give Turtle Security a bad rep if Raph lost his cool. Which didn’t happen as often as it used to, now that you had all grown. He owned his own company for goodness sakes! So he had learned to keep a level head. Had learned how not to let his emotions rule him. You were so proud of him for that. When you had first met him, his temper was what scared you the most, but you soon learned that underneath that rough exterior he felt he had to make sure his family was safe from all harm. That kind of pressure on a teenager was too much. It didn’t help that he felt he was never good enough. That he thought of himself as a failure. You hoped now that he didn’t still feel that way. He owned the most sought after personal security money could buy and still, he found time to patrol the streets- for free, without asking for anything in return.

You idolized Raph for a couple of years once you figured out who he really was. Now, you hoped you didn’t disappoint him with what you had planned. Roger had finally asked you to dance, although you wondered if he would be able to without stumbling. You had let him touch your hands, tuck your hair behind your ear, rest his hand on your back. It was hard not to gag at his beer-tinged breath. You hated that smell. It reminded you of the foster home you ran away from. But you had to play your part and so far you felt you were playing it perfectly.

When you glanced at Raph, his fists were clenched and his jaw ticked. His steps were heavy and purposeful. He wasn’t happy, but he didn’t seem like he was worried about security as his eyes flitted all over the place, barely looking in your direction. You had seen him on the job before. You knew he always had an eye on his client. Normally, he wouldn’t be more than one step away from his client when he played the part of bodyguard, but not tonight. He had stepped several feet away when he saw Roger sit next to you. You assumed it was to give you privacy. He never did like to be in the same room as you when you had a boy over- after the world found out they existed, anyway. Before that he would always leave the room when you spoke of the opposite sex. But when you came home crying he was the first one to grab the ice-cream and chick flicks. And he was always the one you wanted to snuggle up to during those times. During any time, really. He was warm, smelled like home, and made you feel safer than any of the others did. Logically, you knew they would all die for you and could protect you better than anyone else, but with Raph you knew that he would never let anyone touch a hair on your head without your say so and that made your insides all gooey.

It was time for step two as Roger danced with you. You were surprised he was a decent dancer. He spun you out and back into his arms, holding you close for a few beats as he breathed you in, causing an involuntary shiver. When you faced each other once again you slyly lowered his hand down to your bottom, making sure Raph and Mikey didn’t see. Thankfully, that very moment, Raph had his back to you as he spoke to his brother, but you knew it wouldn’t be more than another second before he turned around. Still, you breathed in a calming breath as Roger pulled you closer, squeezing your cheek. You told yourself you wouldn’t have to deal with him much longer as you led him in a position where you could see Raph out of the corner of your eye and he would see Roger’s hand on you. Your nerves buzzed in excitement. Lucky for him, worry for his life wasn’t a huge concern since he was the client. Which is why he was your target.

“Mr. Vance,” the gravelly Brooklyn accent was barely contained. “Ya need ta remove yer hand from the lady.”

“What?” Roger scrunched his face up at Raph. “Is she a threat?”

Raph towered over us and you felt Roger shake in fear. You would have smiled, feeling happy to have Raph so close, but you needed to keep a straight face.

“No,” he ground out.

“Then I’d like to keep dancing with this pretty lady, thanks,” Roger pretended bravado, attempting to sway as if he was still dancing with you, but Raph didn’t move an inch.

“Sorry,” Raph gently lifted you by the waist and set you down behind him, effectively situating himself between Roger and yourself. His hand print still felt hot on your skin. “But tha’s my sista’ yer touchin’.”

The word sister broke your heart and had your blood boiling all at the same time. You didn’t want to be his sister. You wanted a different kind of love from him. Tonight he was supposed to see how pretty you had become. How sexy you are. That you weren’t his sister, but someone he would feel compelled to kiss and touch and breathe in like you were currently doing. He smelled of leather and metal and spice.

“I-I see,” It was at that moment you knew Roger was a coward. Or maybe Raph was truly that scary, you weren’t sure which. Roger didn’t ask how it was possible that you were siblings. He didn’t protest when Raph pulled you away. He didn’t even try to hold on to you. He let go so fast you wondered if he was truly even interested. Granted, he had had a few beers by then and you had no way of knowing how well he held his alcohol.

“Michelangelo will escort ya home, sir. Ya seem tired,” Raph directed Roger toward a confused looking Mikey with an outstretched arm. You stayed silent as your eyes followed them out the door, giddy for what you hoped to happen next.

“Come on,” Raph growled out as he grabbed your wrist and tugged out to the back door that led to an alley.

A small smile played at your lips that you struggled to hide once Raph rounded on you.

“What do ya think yer doin’?” He crossed his arms, staring you down, emerald eyes hard as stone.

“Dancing,” you shrugged and played with your nails, as if you went to bars every night to go dancing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ya know I don’t like it when ya with us on a job, y/n,” Raph stated, waiting for an explanation from you. He hated having you near any possible danger. And that’s what his job was; dangerous. The whole point of it was to keep whoever was paying them safe from danger that might be after them. How would he be able to protect you and the client if something happened? He doubted he could do both and knew exactly who he would choose. Consequences be damned.

“How am I supposed to know where the job takes you?” Your e/c eyes dared to make contact with his own, nearly knocking him to his knees. He loved your eyes, they always had a spark to them, even when you were scared for your life. You thought he wasn’t there when you fell into the sewers that day, but he was the one that opened it for you. He was the one that followed you as you ran. He was the one that went back to beat the guy to a pulp once you were safe underground.

“I’m sure ya convinced one of yer brothas ta tell ya.”

“And if I did?” You sassed, a hand on your hip.

Raph visibly gulped, trying not to remember how good your hips felt in his hands. How his hands fit perfectly around your waist. How easily he could throw you over his shoulder and take you home. Home, where he could put something more appropriate on you- like one of his shirts.

He was going to lose it.

“Are ya tellin’ me ya put yerself in danger on purpose?”

“I wouldn’t be in danger, even if there was danger!” Your arms flailed at your sides, voice raised as you took a step closer. So close he could smell you. He tightened his hold on his biceps to keep from pulling you into his chest so he could breathe you in better.

“What makes ya think that, huh? Ya could get hurt if somethin’ were ta happen,” Raph tried to reason with you. You had to know that he would have to choose who to protect and you had to think he would choose the client.

“‘Cause you’re there, Raph. You wouldn’t ever let anything happen to me,” you said, voice steadier- and so very confident- than he expected after your outburst moments ago. Your words had Raph’s heart soaring to know you thought so highly of him, but he needed to quash that.

“I have ta protect the client, y/n. Ya know this,” Raph whispered the last bit, wishing he didn’t have to convince you that you should be second when he was on a job. You weren’t second. You would never be second. You were first, where you were meant to be. You would always be first.

“Pfft,” you scoffed before muttering that Mikey was there. That he could protect the client. And that caught Raph’s attention.

“Ya don’t seem very concerned for someone ya were just flirtin’ up, Shorty.” His eyes squinted down at you in suspicion.

“Why would I be?” You shrugged, looking down at your nails again- a sign that you were hiding something. “Not like I liked him or anything,” you muttered.

“That’s not wha’ it looked like ta me,” Raph gently guided your chin up with his finger, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“Good,” you huffed out, happy something was actually coming out of what you had planned.

“Good? Why were ya pretendin’ if ya don’t even like the guy? That’s not like ya, y/n.” Raph almost stumbled backwards at the glassy look in your eyes. Were you crying?

“To show you how pretty I am,” a tear ran down your face.

“I already know ya pretty-”

“To prove to you that I’m not that fourteen year old girl that ran from the foster home,” another tear rolled down your cheek, shattering his heart. He didn’t understand. He knows you’re beautiful. He knows you’re not fourteen anymore. He’s known that for a long time. Too long, really.

“I know ya not-”

“That I’m sexy, Raph!” You ripped your chin out of his gentle grip, turning away.

Now he understood. At least, he thinks he understood. And the thought shook him to his core. His heartbeat thundered in his chest and he worried that you would hear it. He didn’t dare breathe. This was the moment he never let himself think was possible.

“I hate those women you take home,” your tiny voice reminded him to breathe. Reminded him that he wasn’t dreaming. That you were here, confessing something he didn’t think was possible. “I want to be in that bed- your bed. I want you to hold me. I-”

Raph couldn’t take it anymore- not another second. You didn’t know what you meant to him, but you were about to as he roughly pushed you against the brick of the building, making sure his hand was behind your head. He didn’t want it to bump against the brick. There was no way he was going to let anything bump that pretty little head of yours. Once he knew you wouldn’t be hurt by his rough-handling he leaned down to meet you at eye-level, forcing you to meet his gaze with his hands on either side of your head, blocking you against the wall. He wasn’t about to chance you walking away.

“Ya think I don’t find ya sexy?” He kissed the skin on your shoulder.

“Ya think I like callin’ ya my sista’?” He gently brushed your hair away to trail kisses up your neck, making your breath hitch.

“Ya think I enjoy those women I take home?” He kissed across your jaw from one ear to the other.

“Who do ya think I’m envisioning as they lay under me?” He whispered in your ear, causing you to shiver.

Your knees buckled, but he caught you before you moved more than a couple of inches and held you steady. You were panting as you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck. You had to make sure this was real. So you held onto him as he rubbed little circles on your hips. You knew those strong hands could hold you forever and you wouldn’t ever want to move. You could barely believe what you were hearing. You tried wrapping your head around what he said. Was your dream finally coming true? Did Raph really see you that way? Your heart skipped a beat before you finally gained the courage to ask.

“Who?” You whispered, answering all of his questions with one of your own.

“You,” he nibbled your earlobe. “It’s always been you, Gorgeous.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: If you can think of something better than “Turtle Security” please let me know...or we can just pretend Raph has no creativity for naming things lol Up to you. But seriously, tell me if you think of something. Anything is better than what I came up with lol

#tmnt #fanfic #raph x reader #aged up #my writing #security #topside #mikey #donnie #leowomen #splinter #reader #tmnt fanfic #angst #happy #cute #sister #bodyguard

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retrievablememories · 4 years

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moonlight | jaehyun (m)

title: moonlight pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: smut request: “Hi 😘 Nct members going to a strip club and jaehyun getting a private dance that turns into fucking scenario please? Can be smutty” word count: 3.2k warnings: sex work, oral sex (male receiving), dirty talk, riding a/n: I admittedly don’t know much about strip clubs at my big age of 23 💀 I researched what I could but took some creative liberties. I only included a handful of nct members here since that is a looot of men lol

“Don’t look now, but your pretty boy and his group of friends are back. Diane says their car is outside,” Anya says, walking into the dressing room where the rest of the girls are. Your interest is piqued at this, though you pretend not to hear her as you finish applying your makeup. Serena isn’t so quick to let you off the hook.

“Isn’t that your boyfriend? Your little boy toy?” Serena asks, leaning closer and batting her eyelashes at you.

You pause with the mascara wand in your hand. “What boyfriend?” you scoff, though you already know exactly what she’s talking about.

“Girl, stop pretending like you’re not into him or some shit. You look at him almost as much as he stares at you!” Anya rolls her eyes and puts her hand on her hip, looking every bit of an Amazon in her 6-inch heels.

“He’s yet to request a private dance, so…I’m not sweatin’ over him. And anyway, he’s no boyfriend of mine if he ain’t paying the bills.”

“Okay, I heard that one!” Both Serena and Anya laugh at your comment. But now that you know he’s here, you are suddenly a little more motivated to dance well tonight. Not that you don’t already, but a little extra never hurt anyone.

Him and his idol friends come around to Moonlight every so often, one weekend or so a month, to get their rocks off. They’re from that kpop group NCT, and you’ve figured out the one who stares is Jaehyun. But you don’t know a ton about them other than those bare facts.

With Moonlight being one of a few ultra-diverse strip clubs in Seoul, it rose to popularity fairly quickly after its establishment. And to no one’s surprise — no one who truly knows the game, anyway — there are always a lot of kpop idols who come to watch the dancers. Their fans would undoubtedly be scandalized if they knew, but hey, that ain’t your problem. You’re here to make money, have fun, and seduce starry-eyed, lonely men. If they’re attractive, that’s only a bonus.

The House Mother, Daya, comes to stand in the doorway and calls your name. “You’re up next girl, so move that ass!”

“I’m coming,” you sigh dramatically, but there are no hard feelings at all. She’s one of the nicer club owners in this part of the city, one who treats all the girls like equals no matter what their skin color or creed is. And when you work in a club as popular and as multicultural as Moonlight, you need someone there to keep the drama to a minimum.

The club is as dim as ever, but the stage lights remain at a low shine, ready to come on full blast once the next dancer appears. The music thumps so heavily that the bass seems to become one with the building, making every part of the club feel alive with energy. A group of 5 men enter, weaving their way through the seats to make it to their usual spot next to the stage.

“Wow, can’t believe we’re actually in a strip club right now, haha…” Mark tries to play it cool, but he’s not very good at hiding his nervousness. This is only his first strip club outing with the other boys, after all. He taps his fingers on his legs like he’s playing the drums.

“Yeah, could’ve sworn we were on Mars instead,” Doyoung says, and the others laugh while Mark rolls his eyes.

Mark isn’t the only one whose nerves are getting to him, though. Johnny notices Jaehyun’s restless demeanor as the rest of them settle in, and he muffles a laugh, nudging the younger man. “God, I hope that one dancer you like is here tonight, you look like you’re about to come out of your clothes.”

“She’s way out of your league,” Ten snickers.

“Stop acting like I’m ugly. I could get her any time,” Jaehyun argues, glaring at the other man.

“She’s a woman of her own, not something you can take as you please, Jaehyun!” Johnny says, and both Ten and Jaehyun laugh.

“Johnny, you should keep an eye out for your own crush.” Doyoung gives him a knowing look, and he only laughs sheepishly in response.

It isn’t long before you appear on the stage, the club bursting with cheers and claps and the dual spotlights flickering to full illumination. The spotlights glisten on your skin and reflect off the light pink lingerie set you’re wearing, making you look akin to a goddess—at least in Jaehyun’s eyes. You step out from behind the velvety curtains, letting the fabric caress your body before making your way towards the pole in the middle of the stage.

Your signature song plays as you twist yourself around the pole and perform your favorite tricks, letting yourself be hyped up and carried away by the people around you calling your stage name and throwing bills at your feet. The world spins as you do, revolving around the pole with your legs touching the sky. You grin at the upside-down faces staring back at you, leaving your charm to do all the talking.

You finish your pole routine by slowly sliding down to the base of it and landing carefully in a split. Your back is facing the NCT boys, though you look over your shoulder to flash a sultry look at the audience. This one is always a crowd-pleaser—though you also use this move as an excuse to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun’s expression. You aren’t disappointed by the hunger written across his gaze.

You gracefully turn your body to them, getting on your hands and knees so they have a full view of your chest. As you crawl closer to the end of the stage, Jaheyun’s figure grows clearer underneath the club’s simultaneously dark and light atmosphere. He’s close enough to reach out and touch.

So you do—bringing your legs out in front of you and spreading them in an appealing stretch before resting them on his shoulders, one after the other. Other men in the club seethe with envy. Jaehyun himself is stuck like a fish out of water, blushing madly but also completely into your display.

Beside him, Doyoung whoops and Johnny whistles. You lift your legs off of Jaehyun gracefully and follow the move by letting your silk robe slip off your shoulders, fully exposing the bare skin of your shoulders and back. Even this is enough to get the men riled up again, and you revel in their cheers.

Jaehyun knows enough strip club etiquette than to try to touch you, and you take advantage of this by gliding off the stage and circling him like he’s your prey. You purposely brush your silk robe over his body, letting it cocoon him in your scent. His fingers drift across it, and he wonders if it could possibly be as soft as your skin looks—or maybe you’re even softer.

Before he can truly get into it, you’ve flitted off to another nearby table of men, taking your silk with you.

“Holy fuck,” Mark looks like a deer in the headlights, and his legs are crossed uncomfortably to hide his obvious boner.

“The baby’s gonna implode!” Ten laughs.

“Well hold it, because the night is just beginning!” Doyoung shouts.

Jaehyun’s eyes keep coming over to you even as you rotate to one of the other, smaller platforms in the club, another girl taking your spot on the main stage.

“You really put it on him tonight, huh?” Serena says, putting her arm around your shoulders. “He’s totally in love. Watch him come to the next show with an engagement ring.” You chuckle at that idea. You find it strangely endearing. You wouldn’t marry him without knowing him, of course, but the idea of having him that tightly wrapped around your finger makes you grin.

You don’t have long to think about it before Daya is coming to break up your kiking fest.

“You’ve got a request for a private dance from one Jaehyun. Sound familiar?” Daya announces. Serena nudges you, and you nod. Daya raises her eyebrows. “You up for it?”

The corners of your lips curl up in a smile. “Give me 5 to freshen up.”

Moonlight holds a dozen or so rooms within its second story, all solely reserved for private dances. You climb the stairs slowly in your heels, partly because you don’t want to trip and partly because you’re slightly nervous about what to expect. There’s an abundance of security guards stationed on this level—and each room has an emergency button—so you’re not worried about safety, per se. Whoever this Jaehyun guy really is, you hope he can meet a few of your expectations, at least. Maybe it’s a little embarrassing, but you’ve built him up in your mind more than you’ve allowed yourself with other club-goers.

The room number is 202. You stand in front of the door for a few moments to take several deep breaths. Then you relax your body, talking yourself back into your Performance mode, and open the door.

“Who’s this handsome man?” Jaehyun looks up to see you standing in the doorway, still wearing your outfit from the stage. He sits up on the plush black couch that stands out from the blazing purple hue of the rest of the room. A row of mirrors frames the wall behind the couch, reflecting your own figure back to you. He looks a bit disheveled, with his shirt unbuttoned and his slacks crooked, but it’s a good look for him.

He leans forward to drink in your body, his eyes drifting up from the garters resting against your thighs to the lacy bra covering your breasts, and you smile underneath his gaze. “Jaehyun. And you’re ______...right?”

“Of course. You should know me by now, special boy,” you tease, sauntering over to him to sit on the couch beside him, instead of his lap like he expected. Still, you hover incredibly close to him, your hand sliding against his lapels and stroking the fabric of his button-up right where it unfolds against his skin. “After all, you’ve stared enough.”

“It’s hard not to.” Jaehyun rakes his eyes across your body as if he’s dying to touch it. You smirk and stand up again, sliding off your silk robe and throwing it to him as you wind your body to the music coming from the room’s speakers.

“What would your girlfriend say?” you tease.

His eyes widen at that. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Don’t act so scandalized about it...men with girlfriends and wives come here all the time. It’s shitty...but it’s life.” You say this while twisting your hips in his face, and he initially seems a little too distracted to realize you’ve said anything. Then it registers.

“That’s....do you like this j-job, at least?” Jaehyun’s breath hitches at the end of his sentence when you drape yourself across his body, your head resting back on his shoulder and your ass pressing against the undeniable bulge in his pants. Still, he doesn’t touch you, which you are grateful for—many other men haven’t been so tactful during private dances—so you continue servicing him without a care in the world.

“It’s fun, and I get to meet handsome men like you.” Your fingers ghost across his jawline, drifting only inches away but not making contact. “There’s a lot to like about it.”

You move away and he thinks you mean to get up, but you only turn to face him. “You can touch me now, if you’d like. I think you’ve been a good boy…”

You grind in Jaehyun’s lap and are delighted when he responds in kind, pushing his hips up to meet yours. Your faces are inches apart. You are practically breathing in sync, smiling like there’s a secret only the two of you know.

You make the first move by kissing him, and he slants his mouth against yours as if your lips have always belonged together.

You grasp Jaehyun’s hand and lead it to your hip, and he takes the cue to rest both of his hands on your waist, simply following your directions.

He does take the lead with the kiss, though, biting your lip as you gently pull away, and tugging you back in. He tastes like alcohol, and as cliché as it is, it makes you feel a bit drunk—but that might also be due to his demeanor itself.

“How long have you wanted this?” you ask, sliding your hand into his black shirt and drawing your nails across his skin—not painfully hard, but enough to make him throb under you.

“Maybe too long,” he says. “You’re very beautiful.”

You smile. “Aren’t we a perfect match, then?” Your hand slides lower, to his abdomen and the muscles you can feel even under his dress shirt, and then to his belt. “Would you like to continue?” you ask.

“Yes.”

You unbuckle his belt, sliding the leather through his belt loops and dropping it off to the side somewhere. You slide yourself off his lap to kneel in front of him as you caress his lower half, rubbing your hands up his thighs and across his bulge, underneath his clothing to feel his abs, and then back again.

Unzipping his dress pants is equally fun. You watch him sweat and feel him shudder as you drag the zipper down with your teeth. You pull his underwear down after, slowly drawing the material over his skin on purpose. His cock springs out, hard and thick and flushed with need, and you lean forward to drag your mouth over it, base to tip.

Jaehyun is heavy and warm against your lips and he smells good, like male musk, like pheromones and desire. You hold the base as you slap his dick on your tongue and he rolls his head back, making a sound between a groan and a laugh as if he can’t believe this is happening.

He doesn’t want to rush or hurt you, so he lets you do the work of sliding him into your mouth as far as you can take, drooling over his dick and sucking him so messily that it makes his knees quiver. The groans and grunts you pull out of him are lovely to hear—you feel good to know that you can bring him this much pleasure so easily. His precum drips into your mouth, salty on your tastebuds.

Jaehyun is pliable in your hands as you stroke his shaft, focusing your tongue on his leaking tip. You feel his thumb brushing the back of your neck, his hand settling on your nape as he watches you suck his dick. He curses under his breath when you scrape your teeth against him very gently, giving just enough pressure to make it feel good.

Soon, you feel Jaehyun nearing in your mouth, his cock throbbing harder and his thighs trembling around you.

“I-I want to fuck you,” Jaehyun says abruptly. You pull back to look at him through your eyelashes. You leave a trail of spit lingering between your lips and his dick, and he looks like he might come right then.

“Such a greedy boy.” You lift yourself to be level with his eyes, tilting his chin with your fingertips. “What’s the magic word?”

“Please?” He looks like he isn’t totally certain that’s the right answer, and it makes you laugh. In response to his request, you turn to face the door, bending over and making a show of unclipping your garters and sliding your thong down before straightening to remove them completely. Jaehyun moans at that.

You turn back to see that he’s already taken care of the condom. He groans beautifully for you again when you crawl back onto his lap and slide him inside of you, clenching around his hard length.

You start with a slow and winding rhythm at first, not entirely hellbent on teasing him but not willing to let him blow his load too soon, either. His hands are all over your body at this point, gripping your ass and your breasts and whatever else he can get his hands on. He pulls your bra down and tugs your nipples into his mouth like a man starved.

You laugh at his eagerness, riding him harder.

Jaehyun plants his feet straight on the ground and starts thrusting up into you and you cry out at the added sensation, his tip hitting against your g spot and making you sweat and tremble.

“Fuck, you’re good,” you sigh, digging your nails into his shoulder as you fuck each other at the perfect pace.

“This is the best pussy I’ve ever had,” he says in between sucking your nipples. “I’ve gotta taste it.”

“N-next time.” Your body squeezes around him again as he brings one of his hands to the front to rub your clit. You’re glad the music is loud, otherwise there’d be no hiding your noises or the sound of your skin slapping together.

You feel wild and free in a way you haven’t in a long time, and you let yourself scrape your nails across his skin and bite at his neck as you fuck yourself harder on his dick.

You and Jaehyun kiss and thrust against each other like you’ll never get to do it again, with all the delicious hurriedness that a quick and tension-filled type of fuck can offer.

“I’m c-close.” Jaehyun groans this into your hair as you’ve gone back to biting his neck again. He grips your ass and holds you tighter against him, if at all possible, and pushes himself into your spot with renewed energy. His hand still works your clit, just shy of being firm enough to hurt—but practiced enough to provide pleasure.

“Not without me,” you say, licking the shell of his ear. “What would your friends say?”

“They wouldn’t know, because right now, you’re mine alone.” He slaps your ass and that’s enough to get you spilling onto him, crying his name right into his eardrum as you shudder and tighten around him.

Jaehyun comes soon after, thrusting a few more times and settling himself deep inside you as he fills the condom. He leans his head against the couch and you watch as he vocalizes his pleasure, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he arches into you.

You feel sated and a bit sleepy now, but your shift isn’t over yet and there are still more shows to be done. You lay a kiss on Jaehyun’s throat before gingerly untangling yourself from him and redressing, making sure everything is in place.

Jaehyun throws away the condom and does the same for himself, though there won’t be any hiding the bruises you’ve left on his neck. He looks in the mirrors behind him and blushes at the sight of them, brushing his fingers over them.

“Sorry honey. Hope your friends don’t tease you too much over it.” You smile sympathetically, though you aren’t terribly sorry. You move to open the door but Jaehyun calls out wait, and you pause.

He slides a piece of paper with his number on it into your hand and gives you a smirk. “Don’t forget our promise. ‘Next time,’ remember?”

You tuck the paper into your bra and make a note to put it somewhere safer once you get to the dressing room. “Of course, baby.” With that, you are gone, and Jaehyun is left with the memories—and the marks—to remind him of you until you meet again.

#jaehyun smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct ambw #ambw fic #ambw scenarios #nct scenarios #nct jaehyun #nct fic #nct 127 fic #nct 127 imagines #ambw imagines

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yandere-wishes · 5 years

Text

//Yandere Obey Me//

I’ve been addicted to this game since it’s relese! I just had to write a quick something something! Enjoy!

Lucifer

Lucifer is a sadistic and controlling yandere who wants his darling's pure devotion. He wants his darling to obey him to devote her entire soul to him. To be at his beck and call. In reality, the views his darling as a pet of sorts more than a lover.

He takes a long time to select a darling wanting one that Is already somewhat superior compared to others of their kind. Someone who will be slightly easier for him to mold. He kidnaps you the moment he's sure that you are the right one.

"(y/n)...."

He has so many strict rules that you must follow. They're even worse than the laws set for the other members of the house of lamination. He controls every word you speak, every direction you step in, every person you talk to. He suffocates you with his presence and commands, depriving you of your thoughts until all you can think of him and what he wants.

His punishments are harsh and frequent, even the smallest mistake will earn you many cuts and bruises. He adores physical torment, leaving markings on your flesh, bruises on places you can't cover-up. He relishes in it and the sounds of agony and pain that you make are hymns to his ears.

He also finds pleasure in degrading his darling. Reminding them of how weak and useless they are and how powerful and flawless he is. He even likes to make a show of it sometimes calling you names and even punishing you in front of his brothers.

"Behave yourself!"

Additional notes

He always dresses you in the finest and most lavish dresses. They vary in length and brand but are always in shades of black, grey and red. You always have gold necklaces around your neck, earrings that may be a little too long and bracelets that shimmer far too brightly. He even has a custom made ring with his name in graved in it. It one of his "rules" that that ring is never to leave your finger.

Lucifer loves to hear his darling beg, it proves to him just how much control he has over her. He also enjoys humiliation making you feel ashamed and pleased simultaneously gives him another boost of pride.

Mammon

At first, Mammon views his darling as a possession that he can do with as he pleases. If they're using full he'll keep them around. If they start to bore him then he'll simply get rid of them right....?

Wrong! It doesn't take long for him to notice just how much he wants his darling. That they have to stay close to him for him to remain sain. He has to have them, only he can have them, touch them, hold them, own them.

He shifts so quickly into a possessive obsessive mix. He puts so much time and effort into learning everything about his darling, even certain details she may have not known herself. Still, it's not good enough, something is missing.

"Look (y/n) I don't love you, I own you!"

So he kidnaps them, locking them up in his room away from everybody else. He doesn't see it as a bad thing though. In his eyes, this is the safest option for his lover they are secure and safe and his. What else could they possibly need?

Mammon spares to expenses when it comes to his darling. He gets them the most expensive dazzling jewelry that he can find. All their clothes are over the top and a bit too revealing. Anything they have ever wanted is swiftly given to them. In a sense, it's the only way Mammon knows to show his affection for his lover.

“...Okay maybe just a little”

Additional details

He has a solid gold collar with his "property of the great Mammon" engraved into it. He insists that his darling wears it at all times.

He's very kinky and has very odd tastes in sexual activities. One thing he adores his laying his darling stark naked on a bed covered in grim and other jewels. It's a mix of his two favorite things; wealth and his darling!

Mammon's punishments are usually isolation. It's mostly due to his oversized ego. He believes that depriving you of his "great: presence will be enough punishment. To an extent he is right, Mammon is the only social connection that you have left. Having him leave you for so long crumbles you. By the time he gets back you are quick to hug him while sobbing and promising you'll be a better lover and do anything h says!

He also enjoys soft touches and sweet praises coming from his beloved. It means they like him! It has to! All he really wants is for them to love him.

Leviathan

Levi is very possessive and very easy to drive into a jealous rage. He believes that he knows what's best for his darling, that's why he pushes his interests onto her as much as possible.

He keeps them locked up in his room alongside himself and Henry 2.0. Making them partake in playing video games, watching anime and reading manga with him throughout the day.

"You love me right (y/n)?"

He always dresses you up in "cute" clothing, usually mimicking Ruri-chan's outfits. He even does your hair to look like hers, heck he's probably already died it the same color too.

He's also very clingy wanting you to constantly be touching you. He makes you sit on his lap when he's on his computer. He always has an iron grip on your waist when the two of you are sleeping. Making it hard for you to move and sometimes even breathe.

“Or are you just lying to me?!”

Additional notes Levi loves to role play it's his biggest kink. He loves to reenact scenes from his favorite shows or books with certain sexual twists.

He constantly has you shackled as a sort of reinsurance for himself. He loves you but he doesn't trust you. No matter how well behaved you are there is always still an inkling in the back of his mind saying you'll turn on him somehow.

His punishments are physical and sometimes degrading. If you make him too mad he might not even notice that he's gripping you too tight and leaving bruises. If you go over the board he may even start to punch you while screaming about how much of a "normie" you are and how useless you would be without him!

Satan

Satan is a sneaky and manipulative yandere, he twists all your emotions and thoughts to better suit himself. At first, he may seem like the perfect boyfriend, kind, caring, a true gentleman. And he's happy to play the part to hide his true for just a little while longer.

Slowly Satan will convince you that you don't need your friends or your family members. That they never cared about, that he is the only one that ever truly cared. The thought hurts like salt to a wound. But the more you think about it the more the likely hood grows. It soon becomes evident to you that Satan is the only one that ever loved, ever cared about you! It's the truth it has to be!

Oh, how wrong you are...

"(Y/N) haven't you found out that I'm not the innocent flower..."

He tries all so had to make you into the "perfect darling". Teaching you all formes of etiquette, making you read his favorite books and memorizing the most famous quotes.

Satan will even try to outdo Lucifer. Wanting you to dress and look even more glamorous than his brother darling. He wants everyone to talk about how well behaved and stunning his darling, he wants them all to drip in envy of him and his lover.

"...I'm the serpent underneath"

Additional notes

Satan isn't too big on physical punishments. He prefers scolding you and turning your own emotions on you. He morphs whatever it is you've done to upset him making you believe that he'll leave you and never come back. Despite the hatred you posses for him you still can't bear the thought of him leaving you. It sends you into a maniacal fit. You need him, you don't know why but you do.

He'll have you crying and begging for his forgiveness, clinging onto his leg pleading with him to stay. Promising that you'll be good that you'll never upset him ever again!

Satan likes to keep you close by at all times. One of his favorite things to do is to have you sit on his lap while he reads. Of course, that usually turns sexual very quickly.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus is a very tricky yandere to pin. He's not loyal to his darling he cheats constantly, always has a new "lover" clinging to his arm. At first, he doesn't even really "care" about his darling, they can do whatever they please as long as they always come running when he calls.

But then he sees you with someone else, talking and touching and kiss and... It's too much for him! The sight sickens him to his stomach! He doesn't get it. It shouldn't bother him that you have other lovers, God knows he has plenty. But he can't push the thought away. He needs you to be his to only touch him, to only kiss him, to only be with him!

"(y/n) put this on..."

One night he simply decides to take you. To keep you locked away forever as his own little pet! It's not a difficult task to accomplish, he simply uses calls you over to spend the night. It's happened so many times before that you don't even think twice about it.

The shock -and hindsight- hits you in the morning, when you can't move your aching body. Legs and arms spread at different angles. Asmodeus his sitting next to you tracing pattern of hearts and stars in your bare skin. He's never been so happy! Your all his now!

"...You’ll look so sexy!"

Additional notes Asmodeus uses sexual punishments for when you misbehave. He gets you all turned on and then just leaves you for hours on end. When he gets back -most likely from a party- you'll beg him to take you. Apologizing for misbehaving and vowing to do anything he asks if only he'll take you then and there.

If you've really made him angry than he'll make you watch as he "plays" with another one of his lovers. It'll break your heart but it'll also teach you a valuable lesson. That to him, you are replaceable.

He always dresses you in the most revealing outfits -if they can even be considered as "outfits". He personally does your hair and make up, wanting you to be almost as stunning as he is.

Asmodeus is very clingy he'll always be touching you in some way. It's not always sexual sometimes it's even very casual. Of course, it'll take time before you realize what Asmodeu's version of casual really is.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub is a soft yandere but also very possessive. In his mind, he owns you just as much as you own him! You belong to each other and no one can ever separate the two of you.

He treats you like a goddess, giving you everything you could ever dream of. The cutest stuffies, prettiest clothes, most delicious foods! Anything! Anything at all, say the word and Beel will do anything in his power to obtain it for you.

"I love kissing you..."

But there is another side to the affectionate demon. He's lost so many that he's cared about, he can't lose you! It will destroy him. It's for your own safety that he keeps you locked away in his shared room. It the only way to ensure that no harm comes your way.

Out of the seven brothers, Beelzebub is the most relaxed when it comes to showing off his darling. He wants his brothers to love and accept his darling as they do with him. He also wants his darling to befriend his bothers and their respective darling.

"...Your flavor is so addicting”

Additional notes Beel has a bit of an "older brother" complex especially after the "death" of Lilith. He may treat you as a sibling sometimes other than a lover.

He'll definitely want you to get close with Belphegor and his darling. It may even end up that the twins might share their darlings or go about choosing the same one.

Beel never uses sexual punishments. He prefers to keep sex as a reward much like food. He does, however, force his kinks on to his darling, under the pretext that they'll "learn" to like it/them.

Beelzebub's punishments are typically leaving you on your own. He hates getting mad at you or even hurting you. He'll probably just storm out and come back later after he's let off some steam. Then he'll sit his darling in his lap and ask them why they misbehaved and try to talk it out.

Belphegor

The most delusional yet also most lax of all the seven brothers. In Belphi's mind, the two of you are already dating so there's no need to lock you up or even constantly follow you around.

Sure he gets jealous when he sees you with someone else. But even then all he does is drag you into his room after telling the other person off.

"(y/n)..."

Belphegor has every inch of your flesh marked with wither hickys, love bites, bruises or cuts. He doesn't mind seeing you in pain if it's to "prove" his love for you.

He gets slightly tense when you go outside worrying that something bad might happen to you. That fear is enough to leave him awake. Eventually, he'll give up and just follow you around until you return home.

However, when it comes to school or the house of lamination he'll just leave you be. His brothers are around so you're practically untouchable. Sure some of them (*cough* Mammon and Asmodeus *cough*) are useless but Beeluzbub and Satan are trustworthy enough.

"...Come sleep with me"

Additional notes Belphegor has a very low sex drive. He enjoys marking you and even watching you touch yourself. But that's usually as far as it goes.

He really likes the idea of sharing a darling with Beeluzbub and maybe even Lilith if she was still "alive". It means his darling his much safer than if it was only him looking over them.

100% of the time he will cuddle his darling while he sleeps.

Bonus!

Diavolo

Diavolo is an obsessive type with certain manipulative tendencies. He desperately wants to keep his darling safe from all three species and thinks the only way to do so is to keep them locked up in the devil king’s castle.

He uses blackmail as a means to keep them cooperative. He might just threaten to annihilate their family and friends or maybe he threatens to hurt them.

"I love you.."

Overall Diavolo tires to be as sweet and caring as he can. He rarely uses any painful punishments and even buys them rewards when they've been bad. He's so desperate to prove his love to his darling that it honestly sort of frightening.

Really it wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't always so close and frantic. Always touching you and praising you, kissing you. It's just so so much...

He always has you wearing long heavy dresses that rival those of the victorian era. Delicate golden crowns are elegantly placed in on your head. Nomerues rings and bracelets decore your fingers and wrists

"...My queen"

Additional notes

Diavolo loves to show you off. He wants everyone to see just how amazing you are!

He holds so many events/ parties in your name. "Oh, it's your birthday? Well, now it's going to be celebrated as a national holiday in the Devildom!"

Diavolo regularly plans to get together with Lucifer and his darling. They're mostly quiet tea parties where the boys can discuss matters regarding the student council and how to better control their lovers. While the two darlings whisper about how frighting and annoying their self proclaimed lovers are.

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archived-mononokeland · 3 years

Text

ask : Okay so I really like your LeviXhanahaki!reader one shot, I was wondering if there was any chance of your writing a follow up of maybe Levi finding out after MC has passed away.

ack - so i planned to post this along with the other ending version, but i figured it’s long overdue at this point and i should go with what i have!

warning: major angst, death, blood, hanahaki

“ too late “

It’s been centuries.

Well—it hasn’t, but that was what Levi felt like. He knows it’s maybe been a month, maybe two, but every second felt excruciating.

You weren’t joining the next exchange program. That much was found out when Diavolo called a meeting, saying that you declined his offer. He didn’t say that it was because you tore his letter and threw it away, but the concluded version was that you just would not come for another year.

Of course, it was met by questions and heartbroken glances between the brothers, but with time, they respected your wishes. No matter what it was, they’d come to terms with it. Besides, it’s not as if they’re not allowed to stay in contact with you.

Except for one.

The amount of anxiety that crushed Levi was astronomical when each time you left him on read. Well, that wasn’t that often, but you never did that before! Even so, your answers always came late, with a reply that. . .seem to lack your familiar flare.

The thoughts that came with him being the Avatar of Envy came, stronger now. And each time, he reminded himself that hey, you have a life of your own in the human world (but perhaps that was a tamer form of his spiraling mind).

Until you became more and more off.

Not only him, your response spread to each brother. Such topic was only brought up when they mentioned the differences in your texts during a groupchat talk. You’ve declined every phone call they made (well, more of that you let the phone ring and never pick up, despite you being online, but same thing), which was understandable to some.

Each thought it was an individual thing, and it wasn’t.

It has been brought to you for questioning, yes. They had their own talk of, “Hey, human, are you okay?” And even then, your answer would be a, “yeah, sorry, i just feel tired ^^;;”

Whether they bought it or not, is unknown to you. You hope they do, anyway.

Each day dragged on for the third-brother of them all. He knew he’d miss the human, they were his true friend after all, but. . .this feeling wasn’t one he liked. At all. In fact, he despised it to his very core. But why was he feeling like this for a normie. . .?

It didn’t matter, he thought as he turned off his D.D.D. Another text of his left on read. . .he hoped you were okay.

[ ✿ ]

You hate it, you despise it. Each day is harder, increasing in the amount of petals—hell, fully bloomed flowers appeared a lot more often—thrown out. You thought it’d decrease since your departure from Devildom, but unfortunately, it seems to be the opposite. You don’t know what it is, shouldn’t the effects be lessened once you’re not in the vicinity of the other party?

Or maybe it was the factor that he was a demon, and you were a human. The situation of a human getting Hanahaki from a creature of hell was very likely to not be documented in any books you’ve read.

Still, even so, you were going to die in the near future. The flowers tell you as much.

They were enough to make a bouquet, you notice. All the ones you’ve spat out were in perfect condition (minus the spit and blood), no tears at the petals, even, in some cases, the stamen and carpels seemed as if untouched, and not forced out your throat. And as a result, you’ve began to collect them and put them in pots you found around the house. Whether you’d like to admit it or otherwise, it was one of the only moments you left your room.

Each type of flower, you fitted in different pots and vases. The most prominent ones that you remember were hyacinths (purple, to be exact), gardenias, marigolds, and yarrows. You keep the other, lesser flowers, all huddled in one big vase. Perhaps they’ll be the secret pieces to your tragedy.

You wonder how long they’ll last after you die.

Such a waste of beauty, you ponder, gently plucking a gardenia from the rest. The white petal flutters as you twirl it aimlessly. The white canvas once red, now back to its purest colors, until it will inevitably wilt away.

The sound of a knock flooded you ears, breaking down your thoughts and pulling you back to earth. You shoved the flower back to its place and hurried up to the door. Who could it be? You haven’t had a visitor in a while now.

Whoever came to mind while you made your way, it certainly wasn’t correct. Instead, you were greeted with a tuft of white hair that you didn’t exactly expect at all. “Solomon!” Your surprise was very much evident both in your voice, and facial expression, “It’s. . .nice to see you here.”

“Hello,” he greets you with an easy smile of his own, “It’s quite the surprise visit, isn’t it? I apologize for that.”

“It’s fine, really!” You force a laugh, sounding a lot hoarse than you thought it would. Even so, “Please, come in!”

You ushered him inside and you close the door behind you. The sight of him looking around your abode doesn’t escape your gaze, it just leaves you a bit flustered, “I’m so sorry it isn’t. . .that presentable, I wasn’t expecting a guest. I can go make some tea, or anything.”

“It’s fine, really.” He gives you yet another small smile, but it quickly turns into a rather sympathetic gaze. He’s noticed your weary expression, your tired tone. “But I think you should go grab a drink for yourself.”

“. . .Yeah, I will. The living room’s down the hall, make yourself at home.”

You don’t raise an objection—the two of you know how much you need it. Well, more you than him, but that’s to be expected.

You get yourself a glass of water, and the cold water punches at your sore throat. A choked up feeling remains, but it’s been there for a while, and you pay no mind to it. You just hope you don’t start coughing up near your guest.

You push any thoughts left to the back of your mind and leave your kitchen. You arrive at your living room to find Solomon situating himself on your couch comfortably. You do the same across from him, “So, Solomon, I thought you were going back for a next year in the program?”

“Likewise to you,” his words left a cold metal press against your body, “but I told Diavolo I’d join next year.”

“I see.”

“And I was surprised when I heard you weren’t coming also. I thought you would’ve been ecstatic to go back.” His eyebrows arched at you, his head tilting slightly.

A sigh, “Well, yes, but—“ your eyes involuntarily glance at a vase positioned near a window, filled with the flowers from your lungs, “. . .it’s complicated.”

A silence hung itself in the air for a good few while, until the other hummed. “I see.” A mumble, nearly inaudible as his lips barely parted. And the silence continued. He’s staring at you, you feel it, and you refuse to stare back.

A cough threatens to break itself out from you. You beg for it to have mercy, please, just for now.

And a plead never stops a tragedy. Even if you fall to your knees, and beg and beg and beg, the scythe will strike you either way. Because, does Death hesitate when it sees someone in such a state? To not rip open the wound, for the reason that it’s time for the wound to be seen?

In the end, blood and secrets spill like a broken mess.

“You’re going to die, aren’t you?”

His question was a whisper, leaving your body cold and alone. Your eyes, while not even looking at him, wavered and roamed. Another flower blooms.

“. . .How. . .?” And, such is the only thing you could say. The petals inside you stroke your organs, and air feels impossible. Shocked, you are, and the world crashes down all at once.

Solomon’s gaze doesn’t give away the answer. And it looks like his lips won’t either; at least not a clear one. “. . .I have my ways.”

A fond smile touches your lips, now tracing over your eyes. “S. . Shady-ass.” Slowly, the world becomes fuzzy dots and continuously blurry. The wound you’ve so desperately tried to stitch close is ripping away, thread by thread. Another flower blooms.

“. . .And you haven’t told them, have you?”

Another question, and another stab to your soul. The wound is third-fourth of spilling its stained secrets, all in courtesy of you. “. . .Is this the purpose of your visit?” The world fades in and out, clear then muddy— “You’re. . .cruel, y’know?” Another flower blooms.

And not a word comes from him next. The silence was enough to rip at your open gash.

The world fades out of your vision as the flowers spill, coughing and clawing its way out of your throat. You don’t feel your body collapsing to the floor, your knees giving up on you, your body writhing itself to keep a stance. You don’t feel the widened gaze Solomon has on you.

Your focus is on your pain; and it slowly becomes your world. The blood that’s spilt, the scratches denting your lungs, the flood of colors sprayed mercilessly, the tears holding no stops or ends as it mixes with the others.

For a moment, you wonder if your blood and spit and tears are the only thing the flowers’ve felt.

[ ✿ ]

“I don’t get it! I know they’ve left me on read for a long time now, but they don’t even come online anymore!”

Levi’s exasperated words fill through the room without a problem. The other brothers in the room would’ve told him to calm down, had they not been on the same level of worry as he was. After all, it wasn’t only him that noticed you’ve not came online and even read any messages they sent for what—a week now?

They’ve all tried to contact you through various means, from the surface leveled texts and phone calls, to even using your pact to send messages by igniting your nerves through pain or the sorts.

None of them worked.

“Please, Lucifer, you have to let someone go up and check on them! Anyone!” Levi’s pleads added the weight of the burden said brother felt on his shoulders. He, too, felt the strong urge to go up and see you, but workload has inconveniently increased against his favors.

Even so, Lucifer sent no reply to his brother and looked away with a hesitant and equally pained gaze. However, after so many requests from his brothers, all those he shared, he relented, “. . .I will talk to Lord Diavolo about this.”

Glances were exchanged between all seven demons, and Levi huffed, sitting up from his chair in the dining room. The rest watched as he stormed into the hallway, and most likely, into his room.

Immediately, he made a beeline to his chair, throwing his body onto it and opening his D.D.D. as if it were a reflex. With his other hand, he reached to his mouse and logged onto something on his computer, not even bothering to spare a look. His fingers tap away into his Chats, and into yours and his. A week you’ve been gone.

His other hand glided away from his mouse, and onto his pact mark, situated on the left side of his stomach. A small wave of magic flows, and reaching to said mark, trying to fish out a response. Nothing. Not a pulse, not a shock, not anything to tell him you were there.

He’d try, and try, and try. But no answer came.

A buzz from his D.D.D. prevents his thoughts from spiraling. The brothers’ groupchat had a notification. His eyes lingered momentarily to the clock at the corner of his device, half an hour has already passed. Was it really that long he spent. . .? But the question was disregarded as he checked who it was.

Lucifer: I’ve talked with Lord Diavolo.

His heart leaps, and so does his anxiety.

Lucifer: He’s been worried as well, and so, one of you is permitted to go.

And with that one message, everyone started typing up at once, like a fire. Levi didn’t falter behind.

Leviathan: I’ll go.

And after it was sent, his thoughts melted to a puddle. All the texts that came after, most likely all the others wanting to go, became muddled visions to him. He can’t feel his arms, his legs, and lastly, the way his heart churns and squeezes so tightly in him.

It hurts, but reality pulled him back.

Levi blinked once, twice, then refocused on the screen bellow him. The words in the white box said by Lucifer shocked him, but sent a slight wave of relief, and also a shaking anxiety.

Lucifer: You’ll be going then, Levi.

Hurriedly, his trembling fingers struggle to get a response. A whirlwind spawns inside his heart and mind.

Leviathan: Huh?!

Leviathan: Uhm, when?

He considered asking why, but he didn’t want the decision to be backtracked.

Lucifer: You may go to the castle now to be transported.

And with that, Leviathan hurries out.

He doesn’t pay attention to what the Demon King in front of him say. Nor does he at the beatings of his own heart. Only a nod, and an occasional hum, and the portal flickers in front of him.

A portal to you.

He takes fast steps to the glimmering light, and his body warps to another world around him.

Despite wearing casual human clothes, his hand still wanders and threads over the pact mark hidden underneath the fabrics. Once again, magic flows from his fingertips, and his legs carry him where it leads to. You, hopefully.

He reaches a house. His magic says you’re here, but you yourself say you aren’t here. Instead of a solid presence around him, you were more of dust, sprinkling the air with a sense of. . .cold.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

His steps pick up as he walks to the door, and knocks. Silence, for a few, and then it opens, revealing someone—someone that isn’t you.

“Excuse me, sir, who are you?” It was a woman, mid-thirty’s he took a guess. Her tone was soft, ever so slightly broken, and her gaze was such as well.

“Uhm—“ A choked up feeling made itself home in Levi’s throat so suddenly. He wavered in every parts of his body, “I was. . .wondering if there’s someone named. . .”

He utters your name, gentle with such fragility. A looming hesitance and fear was evident as well, so none of his tone was positive by any means. The woman in front of him tensed, and gave a look of heart break.

No, it can’t be. It just can’t—

“. . .It’s. . .very unfortunate of me to say this, but. . .”

No, no no—

“. . .they’ve passed away.”

His world broke.

Sentences came after that. Leviathan knew, he just wouldn’t acknowledge. A sharp, excruciating pain imbedded deep in his heart, his mind, his body—his pact mark shattered, and so did he.

Even so, he reached—reached deeply inside of the shards of the broken him to utter out a sentence, and stay stable, if for a moment.

“. . .How. . . d-did—“

He cut himself off. He can’t go any further, he just can’t. Fortunately, the lady picked up and answered.

“. . .It’s from a rare disease.” Her voice was wavering, hesitant, but it was an answer nonetheless, “Hanahaki. A person sprouts flowers from their lungs due to unrequited love and it slowly kills them.”

She didn’t want to say any further, and he didn’t want to hear any further.

His legs were numb, his body hurt to exist, his heart ached to keep beating. A thud sounded as his knees collided with the concrete—his feet didn’t work. None of his. . .anything, did. The screams of agony were a vocalization of his tears, his pain. A hand clutched the mark—your mark—and a cold darkness bit back.

His hand would bleed, but he wouldn’t care. You were dead. You were dead you were dead you were dead you were—

Could he have stopped this? Maybe, if he wasn’t so ignorant, and checked up on you like an actual friend would—could he have stopped this? Maybe, maybe, you’d be there by his side, smiling cheekily and exclaiming it was a joke—or a nightmare, just—anything but reality.

Were you hurting? No, of course you were. And not uttering a word, to anyone, to him?

And for a moment, he wonders if your tears and blood were the only thing you felt when you died.

#obey me leviathan #obey me levi #shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me scenario #hanahaki #angst #tw death

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