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shinynewboots · 4 months

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Staring at the Sun / Adam x Lute Chapter 7

Summary: After the battle, Lute attempts to flee with Adam. They find themselves unable to return to Heaven and must adjust to life in Hell.

AN: Hi all! Very excited about this chapter, I really enjoyed writing it (I essentially had big word vomit today lol it's crazy how motivated I am to write when I am well-rested). I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

Warnings: Violence, gore, 18+ eventually, Adam-typical misogyny, alcohol use

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

Lute had awoken only once during her shared nap with Adam (due to Keekee snuggling up beside her with no idea how the cat had gotten into the room since the door was closed). She had been so warm and just so relaxed that she chose to lull herself back into sleep, snuggled against Adam's chest.

Lute had chosen not to bring up the circumstances surrounding the nap and Adam had offered no explanations. It hadn’t changed their dynamic much.

Except for the fact that now when it was time for bed, Adam would scoot to the side and hold the blanket open and his wings unfurled for Lute to snuggle into.

The first few times he had done this, it had been accompanied by the words “You coming or not?” and a large yawn from Adam. Now, however, they had found themselves in a very comfortable routine of sleeping together with no argument and very little acknowledgement.

Lute wouldn't deny that it was the best sleep she could ever remember having. Adam was almost like a furnace with heat radiating off of his body, and Lute couldn't help but move in closer. Sometimes he would throw an arm around her and pull her close. There was even the one time he had done so while still asleep (which she knew he had been because of his soft snores) and had whispered her name as he burrowed close to her body. She had stilled and her eyes widened until she realized he was only dreaming.

Maybe she had even imagined her name being whispered like a prayer from his lips.

No matter. No use in dwelling on such things anyway. She did not want to destroy this fragile, new territory she found herself in with Adam. It was the closest she could remember her body ever being to someone else’s in a soft way. Of course, she had fought and trained and wrestled her entire life and so the feel of another body was not completely foreign. But this softness…this softness and comfort and gentleness was completely foreign.

Lute was not soft. She was hard. She was steel. She was unbent. She did not give into the softness. And yet…She found herself craving it. She had started to live for the moments when she had snuggled close to Adam right before he succumbed to sleep. When he would snuggle closer to her and breath softly in her ear.

She had also never seen Adam in such a soft light either. She knew he had fucked several angels, mortals, and likely sinners but never in the details of his sexual escapades did he mention the quiet moments when the act was done. When she imagined he might simply hold his partner the way he held her.

Fucking shit. She was dwelling.

Lute shook her head and tried to bring her focus back to the activity in front of her. Charlie had chosen a very calm “paint by numbers” activity that Lute had barely started. She looked down at her almost blank canvas and sighed. With a glance she looked at Adam’s painting. It was halfway completed but he did a terrible job of staying in the lines and so his picture revealed some cursed version of da Vinci’s The Last Supper.

It had been a few weeks since the Combat Training mishap, and in that time Charlie had been a bit more careful about the group activities she chose for the hotel. Lute’s jaw (and Vaggie’s nose) had healed from their fight; even Adam’s original injuries from the extermination were almost completely healed and he was almost back to his old self.

She and Adam had been planning to make their trek to the embassy in the next day or two. Not that anyone else in the hotel knew that (though Lute could swear that fucking Radio Demon shadow was keeping a close eye on them).

Speaking of keeping a close eye on them, Lute had also gained shadows of her own since her fight with Vaggie. Shadows in the form of little egg creatures that seemed hellbent on annoying her to no end. They had approached her one afternoon with no warning and followed her like baby ducklings whenever she had let her guard down and didn’t make a fast get away.

The 4 eggs had approached her while she had been contemplating in the hotel garden. She had found a bench that she liked to spend a few quiet moments after her morning runs before having to face the reality of the hellish day. It had been getting harder and harder to force herself awake in the mornings and leaving Adam’s warm embrace.

She sat, her guard down, and her head bent backwards at the hellish sun shined its almost overbearing rays on her face. She breathed in deep and took in the stillness of the garden.

Her peace was disturbed when she felt something poke her leg. Her eyes shot open and was met with 8 pairs eyes looking at her with stupid devotion.

“What do you want, egg creatures?” She asked in annoyance. They grinned up at her.

“We want you to be our new boss.” One of them, the leader of the eggs, said stepping ahead in front of the other three eggs.

“No.”

The eggs frowned and began to protest, following along with their tiny legs as Lute tried to escape the garden as quick as she could. Something told her the Radio Demon had set them up to this.

The eggs were quiet now, all four preoccupied with the painting task at hand. Adam had thought the entire situation was fucking hilarious. “ You’re like a fucking mother duck or something.”

“Lieutenant, look at my painting!” One of the eggs exclaimed, walking towards her with a very crude rendition of American Gothic . The paint by numbers had been completely forgotten and the egg had chosen instead to draw childish stick figures.

“Which one is that one?” Adam whispered to her. Lute shrugged and shook her head.

“Kind of shitty no one ever gave them names. You should name them.” Angel said, watching the scene unfold in front of them as he painted a pretty impressive rendition of the Birth of Venus, though instead of Venus he had chosen to paint himself as the main focus instead.

“And how would be able to tell them apart?”

“I don’t know toots, paint?”

“I was able to always tell my girls apart,” Adam said, taking a sip of the cocktail in front of him. Lute rolled her eyes.

“Fucking save it, you couldn’t tell Lyre and Pandore apart to save your life.” Lute fired back, discarding her painting and turning her attention towards the eggs. “Eggs, at attention!”

The four eggs wobbled towards her and stood in a line, just as she had taught them. Beginning from left to right Lute began to paint their new names on their heads (remniscent of a human celebration of painting easter eggs). Now before her stood newly named Egg Bois: Blue, Orange, Yellow, and Red.

“Um, Lieutenant, I already have a name,” Red said, his eggbrow furrowed. Lute frowned.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a name?”

“You never asked.” Lute wanted to slap her forehead in frustration. Instead she took a deep breath and sighed.

“Okay, what’s your name?”

“Frank.” Lute sighed and grabbed the red paint and added and ‘F’ in front of the still wet ‘R-E-D’.

“Not anymore, your new name is Fred.”

“Fred!” Fred yelled, chattering with his newly named comrades.

“Yes, now go and finish your paintings and leave me alone.”

“You got it Lieutenant!” The eggs wobbled away, more excited than she had ever seen them in her short time as their declared boss.

“That was nice thing you did there,” Angel offered, a tentative smile on his features. Lute nodded in acknowledgement and went back to trying to focus on her canvas. The activity was in the foyer, as most activities were, but Lute had been surprised at how quiet almost everyone was during this activity. The Radio Demon was nowhere to be seen, as per usual, but everyone was present and focused on their art. Even the sudden knock at the door did not startle the hotel guests.

Charlie ran to the door, excitedly as always, and pulled it open. “Uncle Ozzie!!”

The serenity of the activity was long lost as all eyes in the room turned toward the scene of Charlie hugging a vibrant, rooster-esque demon that stood at an even taller stature than herself.

“Candy Apple! It’s so good to see you!” The blue demon exclaimed. Lute looked over Adam, who’s face had suddenly darkened. Lute reached out her hand and squeezed his thigh under the table. Behind the blue demon, an imp appeared with jester-like clothing.

“Uncle Fizz!” Charlie exclaimed, leaping from the blue demon to engulf the clown imp into a hug.

“She knows Asmodeus and Fizzarolli?” Angel whispered sharply, looking starstruck at the pair in front of him. As Sinners were stuck in the Pride ring, there was very little chance if any for sinners to meet any other members of the various rings. The only Sin who regularly traveled between rings was Mammon, always in search of a quick buck or scam.

“That’s Asmodeus, the sin?” Lute whispered to Adam, who nodded slowly. “Adam, what’s wrong?”

“He’s fallen, all Sins are.”

“Wait, are you fucking serious?” Husk asked, himself and Angel scooting closer to Adam and Lute. “Even that fucking creep Mammon was an angel?”

Adam nodded once more, his face aging a thousand years in a single moment and he seemed to be taken back in a memory. “You think Lucifer was the only angel who fell when Eve at the apple?”

Adam’s face had contorted into a wry smile. He looked back over at the scene of Charlie and her uncles. Charlie had grabbed Vaggie and was introducing her. Vaggie seemed uncomfortable with attention and appeared to be stumbling over her words.

“Candy Apple, I didn’t know you were running an Angel Sanctuary.” Asmodeus said, his gaze making path past Charlie and Vaggie to Adam and Lute. “Not counting your little girlfriend, who cute as pie by the way.”

“I mean not really, it just kind of turned out that way.” Charlie laughed awkwardly, her eyes darting between the angels and sin.

“I’m surprised Luci isn’t here. I called him to let him know I was coming but didn’t get an answer.”

Charlie scratched her head awkwardly and lowered her voice. “That’s been pretty standard since Mom left. He was at the Extermination, I’m sure that aired all over Hell.”

“It did. Which was why I was little surprised to get your call.” Asmodeus said, bending down to Charlie’s level to look at her head on. “You’ve always been better than any of us, Charlie but even I thought you’d have your limits.”

Charlie looked over at Lute and Adam and whispered in Asmodeus’ ear. Asmodeus sighed, squeezed Charlie’s shoulder, and nodded. Charlie grinned at her uncle and began to guide him towards Lute and Adam.

“Adam,” Asmodeus said, walking up the group. Husk and Angel took that as their sign to back away but to continue to watch the show unfold. Angel grabbed Niffty, who had ignored the scene in front of her and continued her painting. Husk walked behind the bar, eyes never leaving the scene, and began to make himself and Angel a drink.

“Asmodeus. You’ve changed a little since Eden. Looking a little more 'cocky’ nowadays.” Adam’s face was unreadable, almost as if he was looking at a ghost. Lute scrunched her eyes and glanced between the Sin and Imp that had bounced up beside him. The Imp, Fizzarolli as she had heard Angel refer to him as, looked at her curiously before grinning and flashing an extenadable, metal arm her way.

Lute suddenly understood the picture and without thinking, lifted her right arm to the remains of her left, as if to shield her from the attention she knew she was about to receive.

“The same could be said for you, Adam. The wings are new…to me at least.”

“No thanks to you,” Adam shot back. Asmodeous held up his hand, signaling a truce.

“Listen, your grievances are not with me. And if you want to make it my problem, I can just pack back up the prosthetics Charlie asked me to bring for your girlfriend.” Fizzarolli pulled out a case from god knows where and opened it to reveal what appeared to be a metallic arm similar to the ones on his body. As if to make a show of Asmodeous’ seriousness, he shut the case almost as quickly as he had opened it.

“Ugh, fuck, don’t, don’t do that. I’ll be on my best behavior.” Adam said, sighing before sitting back down. He turned to Lute, who was staring at the scene like watching a trainwreck. Her right palm began to sweat and she felt overexposed without her Exorcist mask, despite having not worn it in months.

“Lute, was it?” Asmodeus asked, sitting down beside her. Lute nodded.

“I’m Asmodeus, one of Charlie’s uncles.This is my partner, Fizzarolli.” Asmodeus said, gesturing the imp beside him who was opening the case on the table.

“I specialize in various types of prosthetics and Charlie asked me to come by and fit you for one. May I?” He asked, gesturing to her damaged arm. She looked between him, Fizzarolli, and Adam and suddenly felt like a child in toy store asking their parent if a stranger was safe to talk to. But she was Lute and she was stronger than that, so she offered him her mangled arm.

Asmodeus grabbed her arm more gently than she could have imagined. His hand was practiced, as though he had done this a thousand times before. And after a glance at Fizzarolli, who Lute noticed had not only one prosthetic arm but one for each limb, she realized he probably had.

He examined the area around the stump that had been pulled over in a crude scar. Asmoedus turned to Fizzarolli as they both reached into the case and spoke in hushed whispers over the case. She felt shaky, overexposed. Utterly unlike herself. A hand reached under the table and grabbed her right one. It was Adam.

“You know you’re gonna look like even more of a badass, right? Especially with a terminator arm.”

“Awe, big boy, do you think I’m a bad ass too?” Fizzarolli interrupted before Lute could answer, flashing his prosthetic bicep guns and winking at Adam in a flirtatious fashion.

“Eh, as badass as a clown can be. You sound really familiar by the way.”

Fizz shrugged. “You’ve probably seen me on tv or radio or any other scammy source of entertainment Mammon is renting out.”

“Nah, doesn’t ring a bell.” Adam said before shrugging it off.

After some digging around for the right parts, Asmodeus held out the prosthetic arm for Lute. It was similar to Fizzarolli’s and had a dark gray color but didn’t have the retractable aspect his did, for which Lute was grateful. It might serve a clown greatly but even she didn’t think she had hte flexibility to be able to control those limbs.

“Alright, this is gonna pinch.” Asmodeus said, bringing the arm close to her scarred flesh. Lute grit her teeth as Asmodeus began to attach it using a mixture of technology and magic. A blue light lit out and Lute wanted to scream from the pain, but resisted. She was strong. She was capable. She could do this.

She wasn’t going to lie to herself and say the idea of a Sin using magic on her body was something she was thrilled about. However, she wasn’t the same person she had been prior to the Extermination. She knew now that there were some lines she would cross if it meant being able to strong for Adam. And this arm would help her be strong for him and herself.

Asmodeus released her arm. Lute stared down at the foreign limb. “Give it a try.”

Without even the thinking, the arm moved just as fluidly and naturally as her native right arm. She flexed her new fingers and curled them into a fist. It fit like a new pair of shoes just itching to be broken in. She pulled her right arm from Adam’s comforting grip and glanced between her two hands, comparing them.

“What do you think?” Asmodeus asked, all three of his heads smirking.

“Fits like a glove,” She whispered, in awe that something as vile a sin could create something so awe-inspiring.

“Dude, that’s fucking awesome!” Adam exclaimed, smiling at her as he reached out to touch her new arm. Lute smiled softly back at him. “Listen I’m gonna get you a fucking shot to celebrate.”

Adam stood from his chair, leaving Lute alone with Asmodeus and Fizzarolli. “Your boyfriend seems excited. I know you’re an angel and everything but if ever need tips on how to use it in bed…” Fizzarolli offered, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Oh, no, we’re not, um that.” Lute could feel the blood rising to her cheeks. Fuck these fuckers from Lust and their crude accusations. Asmodeus and Fizzarolli exchanged glances but decided to let it go.

“Thank you, Asmodeus.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Charlie.” He replied, glancing over at his niece who was talking excitedly with the other hotel patrons. “I only did it for her.”

Lute nodded, understanding the sentiment. Asmodeus and Fizzarolli rose from the table to give their goodbyes to Charlie.

“Awe Uncle Ozzie, I really appreciate it. You have no idea what this means to me!” Charlie gushed, looking over at Lute with a big smile.

“Anything for my little Candy Apple,” Ozzie said, booping Charlie’s nose in a way that implied he had done it a hundred times over. “I do think we’re about to head back though. I am gonna stop and see your daddy on our way out of town. To not even get a callback? Downright despicable.”

Charlie hugged her Uncles once more before they left the hotel (but not before Angel managed to get an autograph from Fizzaroli “It’s the real-life Fizzarolli, not a Robofizz! Do you know how big of a deal this is?”).

Charlie walked over to Lute, a sheepish look on her face.

“I’m really sorry for springing this on you. I didn’t even really ask if this was something you wanted, I just kind of assumed. But I wanted to surprise you because you and Adam have done a really great job of blending in with the other guests and the Egg Bois have really bonded with you and I just wanted to help,” Charlie word vomited out. Lute opened her mouth but then abruptly closed it, choosing her words carefully.

“I appreciate it…Charlie. It was very thoughtful and Adam and I have been very, um grateful for your hospitality. In the future, I would like to be asked about major things or gestures like that in perhaps a less public setting.” Lute almost choked out the words. For good measure, she decided to grin at Charlie, who looked at her as though she had seen a monster. Hopefully, the smile made Charlie feel as uncomfortable on the outside as Lute felt on the inside.

“Oh Lute thank you! I’m so sorry, I have such trouble with boundaries sometimes, I just want everyone to be happy,” Charlie exclaimed, tears in her eyes. Lute suddenly found herself engulfed in a Charlie-sized hug. For such a small woman, she sure hugged hard. Charlie did not let go until Lute gave her a pity pat on the back, which was the closest thing she was going to get to reciprocation.

Charlie untangled herself from Lute and pushed her towards the bar and the other guests. Lute found her place by Adam and whispered, “I think I need that shot now.”

Adam flashed her a grin and held out a shot glass with mysterious blue liquid. Lute grabbed the shot glass with her new arm and clinked her glass with Adam’s.

“Bottoms Up Bitch!”

That night, when the impromptu celebration at the hotel bar had calmed down and most patrons had retired for bed, Lute found herself snuggled in Adam’s embrace like she had every night. She could hear his breathing begin to slow and she knew if she wanted to speak to him, to digest the events of the day she had to do it now.

“Adam,” She whispered.

“Hm?” His sleepy reply.

“How did you know Asmodeus?”

The room was quiet. She worried he had fallen asleep.

“Lucifer wasn’t the only angel in the garden.” His voice was husky from sleep.

“Oh?”

“There were others that had their own, shall we say curiosities or hyperfixations that they wanted to introduce to humanity. Vices, I guess. When the archangels shunned us from the Garden and damned Lucifer and Lilith to Hell, they also decided to shun those angels as well. And they became the sins. So Asmodeus the sin of Lust, Beelzebub the sin of gluttony, and so on.”

It was moments like these that Adam became the mythic legend he always touted himself as being. He had the air of someone who had seen the rise and fall of humanity from the very beginning, which, she supposed, he had.

“What was it like, the garden?”

He was quiet for a moment and stillness took over the dark room. “It was perfect. I think it was more perfect than Heaven sometimes.”

Lute didn’t reply and instead chose to digest his answers. She didn’t know a greater perfection than Heaven. She couldn’t conceive of it her mind. It was impossible. Yet, Adam had lived it all. Would he not know better than she, a Heavenborn?

She snuggled in closer, her new arm a tad uncomfortable but just another learning curve she would conquer.

“In what way?” She wanted to ask. But she was not given the opportunity as the soft snores she heard coming from Adam shut down any further chance for questions tonight at least.

#staring at the sun #hazbin hotel fanfiction #guitarspear #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lute #adam x lute #lute x adam #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel #fanfiction #adam #lute hazbin hotel #hazbin lute #lute #hazbin adam

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obscureblorbos · 2 years

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König NSFW Headcanons

This imagine was brought to you by: All of you sick freaks who REALLY liked an idea that should've stayed in my head. Love y'all <3

Contents: 18+, third person, gender neutral insert, primal play, knife play, size kink, D/s (on both sides)

A/N: srsly though holy shit i wasn't expecting so many people to like my post. like,, 500 NOTES?? that's the most i've ever gotten on any of my blogs. i swear y'all encourage me to write the most deprived things on this site

As I've said in my previous post, whether he Doms or subs depends on who wins. This can range from a typical struggle for dominance, to going out into the woods for a "hunt". The chase during the latter is the most fun part. Just the thought of it leaves him anxious to find his prey. No matter his role, though, he's jittery from start to finish

Often uses names like "hase" and "maus" during these activities

König roughhouses quite a bit in these scenes. As much as he likes subbing/bottoming, he does not intend on making it easy for his partner to achieve that part of him. Neither person is leaving the scene without at least 3 bite marks and a couple nicks.

Likes to cut off his prey's clothing and use it as makeshift restraints

He can sometimes get too excited and carried away, which is why he makes sure they both remember the safeword beforehand

For sure has a size kink. The man's almost 7 ft tall, so he towers over everyone. He loves how easily he can overpower his S/O with this stature alone. His fingers can reach places they probably couldn't, and he can switch positions however he likes — use them however he likes. The momentary fear that he might actually break them makes him shudder with taboo excitement. Don't even get me started on watching them struggle to take his length-

That being said, it gets him so riled up when his smaller partner can pin him down and take what they want from him. Straddle his torso and point a knife at him, and soon enough his gnashing and growling will fade into pathetic whimpering. At some point he learns to just give in and be their victim

Overall, there's something about the mutual "You're alive because I allow it" dynamic that really sparks a flame in him

König is the type to poke and prod at his partner when he's in a certain (bratty) mood. Like he'll genuinely piss them off sometimes, and when they finally tell him to shut up, he uses his large frame to corner them

"And what happens if I don't?"

Also really enjoys praise. Being called a "good boy" makes shivers run up his spine. Internally, he wants to drop to his knees and do whatever his S/O desires at the mere slip of those magic words, but usually decides not to in favor of playing hard-to-get

Curses in German in the heat of the moment

A mean top. He likes to tease and demean his S/O, and makes them earn everything he does to them. He gets off on his sub begging for his touch — telling him how much they need him

I say he likes to tease, but that's only half true. König enjoys the tension that comes from saying and doing certain things, and playfully getting himself in trouble. However, he does not have enough patience for orgasm denial or edging. He can only tolerate one instance before ramming into his partner, regardless of what role he was meant to be in

Words of affirmation are essential during aftercare — giving and receiving. He needs reassurance that his partner doesn't mean all the nasty things they've said and done — that there was no real hatred behind that. He's often on edge when it comes to being vulnerable at any capacity, so praise gives him some momentary peace of mind. He extends the same treatment to his partner, since his type of play as a Dom isn't far off from what he does in battle

#lord have mercy this man has me in a chokehold #könig x reader #excuse for the day? the tired sleepy

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alexissara · 2 years

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A collection of Short Yuri Manga reviews I Wrote Recently

5 Star SHWD is an exciting action yuri series which features something most manga and comics typically do not feature, women with actual muscles. There is a good diversity in the range of muscles on women but the story has so far only 4 women in it and like 0 men who matter at all. It's very focused on the characters who matter to the story it's telling.

The story it's telling it a world where eldrich horrors that were made during "the war" appear driving people into killing frenzys and consuming them. Our heroes work at SHWD a private company that disposes of these monsters. The monsters are like ugly slime things they at present exist as a thing for the people to kill and aren't like "villains" they are the nature of the world stained by war.

Politically I am not sure if I am connecting to the plot or theme but I am not totally sure what the story is trying to say other then wouldn't it be hot if a slammer buff woman and a big buff woman kissed on the lips on the battle field and to that end, I agree, whole heartedly and I want to see it. I look forward to future volumes, I am not totally sure if the series will be for me but I am super glad I Picked this up and supported this very original piece of art.

5 Stars Young Ladies Don't Play Fighting Games is one of the most beautifully drawn manga's I've read. There is fantastically stunning ugly moments for the girls and captivating panels aplenty.

The manga's story follows assimilation, desire, growing up, and more all in fun fighting game action, sparks of romance between the two lead girls and more. There is nothing explicitly, openly gay, yet in this volume but there is many many moments that do read as next and not subtext.

The setting gives them a reason to hide their shared passion for each other, well fighting each other at fighting games. Aya's deep dive into conforming hoping she'll feel the joy she felt as a kid again by becoming a proper young lady is sad, heart breaking and exciting to watch break as she falls for Shirayuri.

I need to read the other volumes stat.

5 Stars Princess Anisphia is a ridiculously charismatic protagonist able to lend emotion, humor and excitement into every scene of this manga. Euphyllia is immediately capturing but the depth they give to her makes her a compelling romantic lead and character for the plot. It feels far beyond the bog standard Isaki story where one's past life makes them uniquely equipped to deal with the world but instead Princess Anisphia is likely actively having her dreams hindered by realizing her past life in the modern world. I think the story has really interesting hooks for later conflicts and great romantic hooks for that building relationship between the two women. It's very good.

4 Stars Black and White: Tough Love at the Office is a wonderfully drawn manga, the tension between these two very fake women as they show their real sides to only each other is fantastic. There is a lot of chemistry in their heated just off screen violent sex scenes. They are the stars of the book but the story does focus on the stakes of their jobs or potential promotions or whatever else and I just can't get invested in that. Regardless, I Would read Volume 2 just for them but I would hope that we would zoom in even more on them, get to know them internally better to understand them. I am detached from office culture and for sure not attached to Japanese corporate culture, like the dorms sounds dystopian to me in a way that I doubt the reality of this fiction, even though it's probably a perfectly normal thing. Regardless, I enjoyed my read of the book and I think there is a particular flavor of sapphics that will have this be their favorite series.

------ That's it for this selection of reviews. If you liked this I wrote some twitter thread reviews I could make presentable for several other manga and a few GNs I read this year. I'll also be writing more of these over time, I decided I like doing little reviews on Good Reads after I finish something, helps with my bad memory.

#Young Ladies Don't Play Fighting Games #Yuri Manga #Yuri review #yuri recs #yuri #manga #manga review #review #Black and White: Tough Love at the Office #The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady #TMRRPGYL #SHWD

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zinzinina · 3 years

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Hi hi Sam!! 💕 Could I please send a ✨ for ‘Hierarchy of Needs’ (one of my favorite fics, btw)? I am thinking about the part where reader first sees Rex on the Resolute, and she’s senses his energy signature. I’d just love to know what he was thinking about! 💖

Hi Jess! Thank you so much, my love! I had a lot of fun with your suggestion x

Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader Words: 950 Rating: Mature (Non-explicit) Warnings: Canon-typical mention of violence and war

This is a reworking of a scene from this fic, told from Rex’s POV.

from a certain point of view ask game ✨

Rex’s mind is so deep into strategy he’s barely aware of the quiet murmuring around the edges of the holodisplay from the figures waiting for the briefing to begin. He needs to mobilise a small detachment without attracting attention from the main deluge of fire; he’s already considering which troopers are most likely to manage to make planetfall without coming to any harm.

But then he hears the familiar, smooth lilt of Skywalker’s voice behind him.

“…is Captain Rex, of the 501st.”

He turns at the sound of his name, and there you are.

Rex isn’t flustered easily. He can’t afford it. It doesn’t help anybody in the heat of battle when the commanding officer is left without a plan, regardless of what happens. His men look to him in the midst of death and dismemberment and horrors beyond anything they could have imagined sitting through simulations in training. It’s his job to stay calm, even if his stomach is turning with the sights and smells of warfare.

Which makes the sheer intensity of his body’s response to the sight of you even more alarming.

His heart jolts like he’s been thrown out of a moving transport without warning. Every thought of flight paths and ballistic vertices leaves him, his head completely empty except for this: what are you doing out here? You’re only supposed to be providing ground support for relief missions; evacuating civilians, accompanying official convoys safely to their destinations. This is an active combat zone. It isn’t safe. But as he watches you tilt your head, listening intently to whatever Skywalker’s saying now, he’s reminded that nowhere in the galaxy is safe anymore. Not for soldiers, not for civilians, and not for Jedi.

Your eyes turn up and meet his, and he’s caught for the first time in your direct gaze. His breath leaves him. Maker, you’re beautiful. Even more beautiful than he remembers, in the way you’d gently crossed your arms over your chest during the last holoconference, your fingers tapping lightly against your own forearm. He could nearly buckle under the weight of this; how close you are, close enough to smell the faint sweetness of incense on your robes and hair. He feels like a cadet again; as though he’s experiencing the same embarrassed, slightly dizzy groundlessness of falling from a height during a training exercise and being teased by his older brothers. He can nearly hear the grin in Cody’s voice ringing in his ears: “Get up, vod’ika! It’s not naptime now!”

Your lips part slightly as you gaze across into his face, and he feels the prickle of heat under the high neck of his blacks as this thought intrudes above all others: your bottom lip looks as though it would be so soft under the gentle press of his thumb… or his teeth.

It only takes him a second to shuffle through this storm of emotion and shove it all down — hard. He knows he was pretty quick, but as your brows draw slightly together in confusion, he worries for a moment he wasn’t quick enough. With a focus bordering on frantic, he draws up thoughts of his DC-17s; mentally disassembling them, cleaning out the interior components, checking over the carbines. He realises that his distracted nod of acknowledgement to you is gruff, bordering almost on surliness, but it’s better than the alternative.

He ignores Skywalker’s sideways glance of amusement, maintaining his concentration as the briefing commences. Even as he directs every thread of his attention to avoiding them, the thoughts still turn over in the hidden quiet of the underneath-part of his mind. At one point, your hand comes up unconsciously to touch your chin, your index finger brushing the side of your mouth. And if he weren’t already watching you, he’d have missed it; but there it is, and you glance at him again for just a second, your eyes darting nervously away.

He’s seen this before. With the soft-spoken archivist on Coruscant. With the funny, glamorous translator aide on that mission to Malastare. Glittering, confident women in bars during nights off, and shy, sweet women on remote farming worlds. He’s not unaware of the presence he carries, and he’s had enough women stroking their own lips while looking at him to know what it means. In the same moment that the realisation swells with joy in his chest, it breaks his fucking heart.

Rex has never allowed himself to want anything too deeply. Some of his brothers relish in their shore leave; glutting themselves on civilian food, drinking and dancing until they’re nearly too exhausted to stumble back to the barracks. He can’t begrudge them this. Not when any night could be their last. He’s never shared in these activities with quite the same level of enthusiasm though, finding it foolish, close to dangerous to want something that he couldn’t have. Every fresh-cooked cantina meal only made the ration packs the next morning taste that much blander by comparison.

So instead he’d managed to almost completely convince himself that everything he wanted, he already had. To serve the Republic with dignity and pride. To protect the people who couldn’t protect themselves. To be a brave, strong leader. A good brother. A good soldier.

But looking at you as you nervously readjust the wide sleeves of your robes, your eyelashes flicking sideways as you glance at the tally marks on his thighplate, he realises how very wrong he was. There was never any danger in food or spirits, cards or dancing. The danger was here all along, right where he’d stumble blindly into it. And now that he’s faced with the one thing so far removed from the realm of possibility as to be almost physically painful, he’s never wanted anything so badly in his entire life.

#from a certain point of view ask game #captain rex x f!reader #saradika

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 3 years

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@evilteddybear requested: I always love a LWJ/WWX fic where the sect leaders, especially Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue, and Lan Qiren, come to the Burial Mounds and see what it's like before attacking, try to negotiate.

Thanks for the request (and your patience in seeing it filled), hope you like it!

[Masterpost] [Ao3]

“Xiongzhang.”

“Wangji. I don’t like it any more than you do but it’s going to be the best solution for everyone.”

The weight of his brother’s glare is nearly a physical blow but Lan Xichen is used to it and stands firm. It helps that he can distract himself from the heat of it by focusing on the long trek down to the bottom of the staircase of Jinlintai. With Jin Guangyao busy for the afternoon Lan Xichen had offered to take Lan Wangji into the city for the day, though now he’s wondering just why he had though that would be a good idea in the first place. Now at least, he supposes, they have the excuse of going off to purchase paper fine enough to be suitable for an invitation for Wei Wuxian to attend his nephew’s one-month celebration.

“I will take him the letter myself,” Lan Wangji states, voice pitched low and steady. Though it’s an obstinate, unmovable tone that Lan Xichen has heard far too many times before, he can’t help but feel that it’s his duty to put up at least something of a token argument. He can never seem to argue with anyone but Lan Wangji, but even then he almost always ends up bowing out as gracefully as he can under the strength of his headstrong brother’s will.

“Wangji, it’s not safe…”

“Wei Ying will not hurt me.”

“I didn’t say that he would.”

“The Wens are not a threat.”

Lan Xichen sighs heavily and pauses as they reach a landing to close his eyes against the inevitability of his little brother getting to have his way. He always has until the day Wei Wuxian left with his band of Wens, and Lan Wangji has been doggedly pursuing him – whether Wei Wuxian is aware of it or not – ever since. He’s never done well with not getting precisely what he wants when he wants it, and Lan Xichen adores his brother and the fact that he’s grown up being given what few things he has wanted without much thought. However in this moment, for this situation, he can’t help but privately wish deep down that his brother knew how to practice the same sacrifice that Lan Xichen himself makes when it comes to those he wishes to protect.

“If you doubt me you may come with me.”

“Wangji-“ Lan Xichen cuts off with another sigh as his brother simply walks away, his piece said and his interest in the conversation clearly exhausted. They both know very well that he’ll do what he wants, and Lan Xichen will allow it. Which is why, in the end, it’s no surprise at all that Lan Wangji makes his way to Yiling with his invitation tucked safely in a qiankun pouch, nor is it particularly surprising that Lan Xichen has accepted Lan Wangji’s sort-of-bluff of an invitation to go with him. What isa surprise is that Nie Mingjue had elected to join them when he’d caught wind of where they were going and why.

“Mingjue,” Lan Xichen attempts to soothe now as the man in question paces back and forth in the confines of their room. In the interest of keeping the peace he had taken it upon himself to make sure that Lan Wangji got to have his own space, but any notions that Lan Xichen may have had about utilizing the relative privacy this arrangement affords to Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue have so far borne no fruit whatsoever. “I warned you that this would be a matter of patience, you didn’t have to come with us.”

“What? And let you both walk into the lion’s den? Of course I had to come.”

“Wangji and I are far from helpless, Mingjue, and he is certain that Wei Wuxian won’t harm us.”

“He’s the only one.”

“He’s not, I-“

“Xichen I will walk all the way back to Qinghe right now if you can honestly tell me that you’re completely and utterly certain that Wei Wuxian won’t hurt anybody!”

Xichen lets out an uncharacteristically audible sigh at that and fixes Nie Mingjue with one of his Looks that always make the man cave. “Even if I could meet those terms I wouldn’t want you to go back to Qinghe. It’s been too long since we’ve seen each other.”

“Can we stay on task here?”

“We are. We are waiting for someone to leave the Burial Mounds so that we may approach them in town rather than appearing threatening by attempting to infiltrate their settlement on the mountain. There is nothing to do now but be patient. What about our current activities are not on task?”

“We need to use this time to strategize. Plan. Things may go wrong. We may need to protect Wangji, he may need to protect either of us. We don’t know what we’re in for.”

“Mingjue.”

“Xichen.”

“This is not a battle, nor a war. We are approaching a young man – a young man Wangji trusts - who hasn’t done anything dangerous in a year so that we may invite him to a family event. Please sit down and relax.”

Nie Mingjue finally stops his pacing to turn a betrayed glare on Lan Xichen, but as with Lan Wangji he’s well used to absorbing Nie Mingjue’s frustration and neutralizing it with the soft, reassuring lines of his smile. Nie Mingjue has never been able to stay angry with him – or even near him – for longer than a few heartbeats anyway, and Lan Xichen watches the tension bleed from his broad shoulders with his next blustering exhale.

“Wangji believes that our presence may alarm the inhabitants of the Burial Mounds should we be allowed to enter their wards. You will need to remain calm in such a case so that we can show that we bear them no ill will.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nie Mingjue grumbles and Lan Xichen’s heart aches a bit for Nie Mingjue, so level-headed when it matters but so hot-headed when it shouldn’t. Nie Mingjue meets his gaze and then groans, covering his face with both hands and tipping his head back a bit as he says, slightly muffled, “Don’t give me that look, Xichen, that’s not fair. How do you always know how to get your way?!”

“It would be significantly harder to have my way if you didn’t know in your heart that I’m right. This is a delicate situation, Mingjue, we can’t let past anger cloud our judgement now. Wangji has been here before and he says that what’s going on here isn’t what everyone says it is. We’re only here to keep him safe on his errand and see things for ourselves, alright? Now is not the time to declare the continuation of Jin Guangshan’s blood feud with the Wens.”

“Yes, fine, fine! I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.”

“And no glaring.”

“Xichen!” Nie Mingjue manages an affronted look for only a scant moment before it too fades into grumbling acquiescence as he resumes his pacing. “Fine. As little glaring as I can manage.”

“Thank you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I love you.”

“Xichen!” Lan Xichen laughs softly to see Nie Mingjue’s blush overtakes his handsome features, turning his entire face a lovely shade of red as he splutters his way through returning the infrequently-expressed sentiment and accepts kisses that thoroughly distract him from any lingering anger.

It takes two full days of waiting before Wangji suddenly stands and strides off right in the middle of their morning meal. The behavior is so unusual that Lan Xichen is instantly worried, though as he stands to follow – with Nie Mingjue hot on their heels – he relaxes ever so slightly to see that Lan Wangji is heading straight for a young man Lan Xichen recognizes dimly as Wen Qionglin. He reaches out instinctively to rest a restraining hand on Nie Mingjue’s arm when he feels the man tense next to him, but though the Ghost General looks a little wary upon spotting Lan Wangji he doesn’t look hostile. In fact, he looks as timid and soft-spoken as he had when Lan Xichen had seen him during the lectures in Cloud Recesses. The only hint that he can see that something is different than it was then is the pallor to his skin and, just barely visible through the curtain of his mostly-unbound hair, thin spiderwebs of black cracks on his neck that creep up towards the underside of his jaw.

It takes some convincing from Lan Wangji before Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are allowed to approach, and then further convincing from Lan Xichen before Wen Ning agrees to let them all come up the mountain. He takes the invitation Lan Wangji presents with gentle, steady hands and holds it as gingerly as one would expect someone to hold little Jin Ling himself, and once again Lan Xichen finds his heart aching – this time for the cruelty of the world that always seems to touch the gentlest of souls.

The trek up the mountain is slow and hot, but the further they get from the town the colder things get. The sensation of the sun on his skin is still there, but it somehow brings him no warmth. The shade cast by the twisting, barren limbs of the trees seems wan and thin, and yet the chill he feels in their shadows reaches into his bones with clawed fingers of dread. The soil becomes loose and dusty under their feet and before too much longer he can feel resentful energy crawling along his skin, seeking weakness. That sensation, at least, passes almost as soon as he notices it and he realizes they must have passed through the wards. Things grow, if possible, even more gray and sere from then onwards, though by the time he can begin to hear sounds besides the wind through dead, hollow trees there are a few with some life in them. A few gnarled leaves on some of the branches in the underbrush, a few trees bearing small fruits.

They pass the first field for planting before they see anyone to till it, though the next field has a figure bent to their task. They sit up straight to watch them pass and Wen Ning offers a little wave to the figure who nods back, wariness etched into every line of their posture. Lan Xichen chances a glance at Lan Wangji to find him facing staunchly ahead, fist held behind his back and his eyes glued to the invitation in Wen Ning’s hand.

“Wei-gongzi should be tending to his field this time of day,” Wen Ning says in his typical soft stammer as they approach what seems to be the heart of the settlement. There are more people around now, all going about various agrarian tasks with varying degrees of vigor. Lan Xichen is about to ask what he means by field when he looks ahead again and spots it, shocking in the gray landscape around them – a bright green space dotted with soft pink petals, and a man in shades of black and grey bent over it with his trousers rolled up to the knee.

It’s clear that Lan Wangji is aching to go to him but they’re stopped before they can go any further by a small young woman suddenly in their way, her feet planted and her arms crossed over her chest.

“Wen-guniang,” Lan Wangji greets with a salute as Wen Ning offers a quiet, “Jie..”

“A-Ning. What are they doing here?”

There’s a beat of silence that Lan Xichen abruptly realizes it’s his responsibility to fill, despite this being Lan Wangji’s errand.

“Wen-guniang,” he greets with a salute of his own that Nie Mingjue copies at his side a beat later. “Wangji has an invitation to extend to Wei Wuxian, and Nie-zongzhu and I agreed to accompany him.”

“An invitation?” At her prompting, Wen Ning hurries to hold out the document itself for her to take, which she does with another skeptical glance at the three of them before she opens it to read the contents. Lan Xichen watches her face for some sort of reaction to the news that Wei Wuxian is invited to Jinlintai, but if she has any sort of feeling about it she does an admirable job of hiding it.

“Wei Wuxian!” she calls without looking away from them. Lan Wangji’s spine stiffens and goes miraculously straighter, as if Wei Wuxian’s name alone is enough to electrify. The man in question waves a mud-stained hand in their general direction without turning around.

“What is it, Wen Qing? A-Yuan is playing with Popo right now.”

Lan Xichen glances up at Nie Mingjue at that with a question in his expression though he knows Nie Mingjue likely doesn’t understand that any better than he does. Nie Mingjue isn’t even looking at him anyway, as it turns out. Instead he’s looking around what they can see from where they are – a crumbling stone structure built into the side of the mountain. Crude wooden huts made from the subpar lumber available in the twisting dead forest around them. Tired farmers in clothes that look one hard winter away from falling apart. And over it all the pall of death and decay that’s inescapable in the midst of a field that had once been, as the name suggests, nothing but a hill of bones and restless spirits.

“You have…guests.”

Lan Xichen looks ahead again in time to catch Wei Wuxian whipping around so quickly he nearly falls off his perch at the edge of his ‘field’ of lotuses, thriving right there in the middle of the Burial Mounds, against all odds.

“Lan Zhan!” he squeaks, looking utterly shocked to see Lan Wangji, let alone him or Nie Mingjue. “What are you-“

“Rich-gege!!!” A tiny voice suddenly cries and Lan Xichen is startled to see a small blur come running from the direction of one of the other fields to plaster itself against Lan Wangji’s leg.

“Hello A-Yuan,” he says softly, almost too softly for Lan Xichen to hear, and he drops his hand down from behind his back to pet the top of the boy’s head, smoothing flyaway hairs back from his little face.

“A child, Mingjue,” he whispers, though the volume can’t hide his horror. This is the ‘band of Wen rebels’ the Jin Sect is so afraid of? This is who remains as the target of their revenge and hatred?

“I see him,” Mingjue replies quietly, jaw working with a little flutter of the muscles in his cheek. “I see them.”

“Rich-gege Xian-gege said you wouldn’t come back but you did!! Pick up, please!”

Lan Xichen wonders if it’s possible for his eyes to go any wider as Lan Wangji reaches down without hesitation to curl his hands under A-Yuan’s reaching arms and, heft him up onto his hip where the boy promptly clings and lays his head down, seemingly content to hug and be held.

“Lan Zhan what are you – what are you all doing here?” Wei Wuxian tries again as he stumbles out of the mud of his pond to traipse across the space between them, cleaning his hands rather ineffectually on his robes hiked up around his hips. When he draws level with Wen Qing she holds the invitation out to him with a look in her eyes that Lan Xichen can’t quite decipher. It’s the first time she’s taken her eyes off of them since she had intercepted them, and Lan Xichen is a little embarrassed to realize he’s relieved to no longer be the subject of her sharp attention.

“They brought you this. You can go see your sister.”

“What?!” Wei Wuxian scrambles to open the letter, eyes flying across the page as he reads whatever it was Lan Wangji had written – knowing him it’s probably as bare-bones as possible, conveying only the necessary information and nothing else. It doesn’t take him long at all to look back up from the page with suspiciously shining eyes. “Is this real?”

“Mn. It was agreed upon.”

“Jiang Cheng agreed to this? And Jin Zixuan?”

“Mn.”

For an alarming moment Wei Wuxian looks like he’s in desperate need of a place to sit, but he rallies quickly and all of a sudden his smile is absolutely blinding, the way it had been once when he’d been a younger, much more carefree teenager coming to study in Gusu. When his smiles had turned Lan Wangji’s ears red and made him glare daggers through whatever poor wall or floor or passing disciple happened to be in his line of sight.

“Oh. Oh wait come in, come in, you’re making everybody nervous out here,” he says with a laugh that doesn’t sound..entirely genuine, but another glance around the settlement proves that he’s got a point. The Wens are all watching them now, tasks forgotten in the need to watch for approaching danger. “Lan Zhan sorry about A-Yuan, he probably won’t be willing to let go for a while.”

“No need.”

“Aiyah. Fine, fine. Come in. Wen Qing and Wen Ning, you too. Come on, let’s go,” he says and just like that Lan Xichen realizes with amusement that they’re all being shepherded into…a cave. It’s a spacious cave, the dilapidated remains of the palace built into the mountain, but it is still effectively a cave. There are tables set up in what’s clearly a communal dining area and Wei Wuxian bustles ahead of them to swipe some accumulated dirt from a couple of the benches before gesturing for them to sit.

“Ah Zewu-Jun, Chifeng-Zun, apologies for my manners,” Wei Wuxian says with a salute for both of them that Lan Xichen is quick to smile away. “We’re not exactly ah…equipped for visitors such as yourselves, I’m sure you understand.”

Lan Xichen takes a seat at the table between Nie Mingjue and Lan Wangji, who has now transferred the child clinging to him to his lap where the boy sits looking at the two strangers to him with wide, curious eyes.

“Xian-gege, Rich-gege brought friends this time,” he observes and earns himself an affectionate ruffle of his hair from Wei Wuxian.

“He did! And they’re very important friends so behave for Rich-gege, alright?”

“A-Yuan is better behaved than you are, Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing retorts in what Lan Xichen is sure is meant to be their usual banter, though it comes out flat and, if he’s not mistaken, too stressed for the joke to properly land. Wei Wuxian doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does then he is still adept at charging through any sort of tension with his usual charm.

“So rude, Wen Qing, we have guests,” he says with a little flourish as he finally takes his robes down from where they’re hitched up and pats them into place where they belong. It becomes even more apparent how threadbare they are with the full length of them on display. He sits down quickly enough and the Wen siblings move to stand behind him, arms crossed protectively over their chests though rather than looking intimidating, as he’s sure other people would find them, to Lan Xichen they just look…afraid.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says softly, and though Lan Xichen knows his brother well enough to know that there’s a whole thought tucked into those two words, he doesn’t know them well enough to know what those thoughts are. And that is strangely disconcerting, to realize that there’s an entire facet of his brother that he doesn’t understand anymore.

“Lan Zhan, not that I’m not pleased to see you, of course you know I am. But why are you here?” Lan Wangji flicks his gaze towards the invitation now stowed safely in the front of Wei Wuxian’s robes and the man rests a hand gently over it, though his resolved expression doesn’t waver. “This could have been delivered by post, or by messenger. The townspeople know Wen Ning, they would have gotten it to him if you had left it for us. Why did you come here in person? And - no offense Zewu-Jun, Chifeng-Zun, but..why are you part of this too?”

“Wei-gongzi,” Wen Ning speaks up softly, surprising everyone else in the room. “I don’t think you’ll be safe in Jinlintai.” It’s something of a non-sequitur but somehow the thoughts must be connected, and Wei Wuxian muster understand how they are judging by the way his entire demeanor changes into something much more alert.

Lan Xichen sighs softly as Wei Wuxian’s sharp gaze fixes on them, but it’s Nie Mingjue who speaks up first.

“Jin Guangshan wants your amulet.” It’s bold and barefaced in the way that Nies tend to be and though Lan Xichen is used to it, it still makes him feel a bit squirmy and anxious in the pit of his stomach to hear something so unpleasant laid out so plainly. Not that he’ll ever let it show, of course.

“Well he can’t have it. Next.”

“He thinks the Wens here are dangerous.”

“Clearly we’re not. Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and I are the only cultivators here. Besides, we’re barely feeding ourselves, let alone preparing to take on the Jins. Next.”

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji cuts in, and this agonized tone, at least, Lan Xichen recognizes.

He interrupts before they can begin any sort of argument. “Wei-gongzi. During the discussion of whether or not you should be present for Jin Ling’s celebration, Jin Guangshan presented concerns about both the amulet and Wen-gongzi. You can’t deny that these are valid concerns for those whom you consider to be enemies.”

“I don’t have enemies unless they make themselves my enemy,” Wei Wuxian shoots back, all trace of boyish excitement gone from his face now. “None of you were there that night in Qiongqi Pass. Did any of you even visit the work camps Jin Guangshan put the Wens in? Did you see, with your own eyes, the field of corpses they created because they knew that the cultivation world would turn a blind eye?” There’s ringing silence for a moment before he repeats his demand. “Did you?!”

“Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing warns, low and quiet.

“If Jin Guangshan is so bored of watching over Lanling and sending his cultivators to protect the interests of his own Sect then by all means, create an enemy of me. I knew what I was doing when I took these people away and brought them here. I know what people say of me, and of the Wens, do you think I don’t? Words are nothing. Fear is nothing. But if someone acts against me and those I’m sworn to protect, can I not defend myself? Can I not defend them?!”

Lan Xichen curls his hands into slow fists on his knees under the edge of the table as Wei Wuxian makes a wild gesture in the general direction of the rest of the settlement, beginning to look desperate as he works himself up.

“You saw them with your own eyes. They’re just farmers, they’re just regular people, the kind that we’re supposed to protect! Popo plays with A-Yuan to keep him occupied while we work in the fields and Fourth Uncle makes wine from the fruit that grows here and everyone here is just trying to survive, yet you would rather see them all dead for the sin of having once been related to a man who has already been killed for his crimes?”

“Xian-gege,” A-Yuan says softly from his perch in Lan Wangji’s lap. Lan Xichen turns an agonized glance on him to find him reaching out for Wei Wuxian with one chubby little hand, his eyes still wide though now it’s with something like concern rather than the curiosity of before.

“A-Ning, take A-Yuan back to Popo,” Wen Qing instructs. Her brother obeys with a nod, reaching down for A-Yuan even as the boy tries to cling to Lan Wangji.

“Want to stay with Rich-gege!”

“I will come find you soon, A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji promises with something fierce and immovable in his eyes. “Go with Wen Ning.”

There’s a quick flutter of activity as the child allows himself to be carried away, and as Lan Wangji shifts his weight to get comfortable again Lan Xichen doesn’t miss the way he subtly positions himself a little closer to Wei Wuxian. It’s hardly noticeable, but it puts him on the same half of the table as Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing still standing behind his shoulder, and when Lan Xichen meets his brother’s eyes he knows precisely whose side he will stand on should it come to that.

He desperately hopes that it won’t.

“This invitation to Jin Ling’s celebration is a trap, isn’t it?” Wei Wuxian asks and unlike the boyish cheerfulness of before, or the anger of mere moments ago, his tone is now as cold and blank as the stones outside.

“No,” Lan Xichen protests, though it’s undercut significantly by Lan Wangji replying with a simultaneous (and much more convincing), “Yes.”

“Lan Zhan?”

“Jin Guangshan wants the amulet. He knows you will not miss a chance to see your family. He will demand you hand over your amulet and Wen Ning to show that you are no longer a threat to him, and if you refuse I do not know what he will do.”

“He just wants to destroy the amulet and the…weapon,” Nie Mingjue cuts in, gruff and clearly unhappy with the way things are going but it is, surprisingly, Wen Qing who rises to meet him.

“You can’t seriously tell me you buy that? That a man like Jin Guangshan can be handed something powerful and decide, out of the goodness of his heart, to get rid of it,” she snaps, eyes once again cutting and her hands clutched in her sleeves where her arms are crossed. “And that ‘weapon’ is my brother, who, in case you haven’t seen, is in full control of himself and his thoughts. He counts as one of us, and destroying him now would be to finish the murder that those guards at the work camp didn’t finish.”

An uncomfortable silence drops in the wake of her anger and in it Wei Wuxian rises slowly from the table to stand next to Wen Qing, his arms crossed over his chest as well. Lan Xichen can’t help but flick a cautious glance at the hand closest to the flute tucked into his belt but at least for the moment it doesn’t seem like he’ll be reaching for it.

“If you’ve come as nothing more than Jin Guangshan’s messengers then I’m taking you right back down the mountain, one way or another. I’m protecting these people, and that is not up for negotiation. You can tell Jin Guangshan that yourself.”

“Wei Ying-“

“Lan Zhan this isn’t directed at you. It’s them.”

Lan Xichen blinks slowly as he realizes that Lan Wangji’s subtle positioning hadn’t gone unnoticed by Wei Wuxian after all. Or, he supposes, it’s equally likely that Wei Wuxian simply trusts Lan Wangji. Despite their differences, their arguments, it’s possible that Wei Wuxian sees now how ardently Lan Wangji wants him to be safe. How far it seems he’s willing to go to ensure it.

“So what’s the deal, if we leave you keep Wangji here as leverage?” Nie Mingjue barks. Lan Xichen’s eyes go wide as he abruptly realizes he’s lost all control of this conversation and it is heading in a dangerous direction much more quickly than he could have expected.

“Lan Zhan is free to come and go as he pleases, he won’t hurt us. He allowed you to come here with him this time so I assume he trusts you to do the same. But if seeing the truth is going to do absolutely nothing to change what you want and what you’ll help Jin Guangshan accomplish in wiping the Wens off the face of the earth then we’re done here, and you will not be welcome back.”

Lan Xichen can’t deny the dread settling thick and heavy in the pit of his stomach, and only a small portion of it has to do with the resentful energy in the air. Wei Wuxian has proven himself time and time again as a formidable opponent, and while Lan Xichen doesn’t think that it’s necessary to see him as an enemy he knows that the majority of the cultivation world would disagree. It’s plain to see, though, that even should that be the case there’s no force on earth that could turn him aside from the path he’s on. He said it himself – his purpose now is to protect the Wens, and if the cultivation world sees that as a reason for him to die alongside them then he will.

“We’ll help you,” he promises. Rash, perhaps. Uncharacteristically sudden of him, perhaps. But it’s actually not really, in the end. Lan Wangji has been worried about Wei Wuxian ever since that banquet in Jinlintai and his disappearance with the Wens later the same night, and so Lan Xichen has been worried about his brother since the same moment. And not only that, but he still remembers Wei Wuxian as he had once been. Where now it seems everyone wants to paint him as a devil, as an evil mastermind, as a cruel and power-hungry tyrant amassing an army of the dead, all Lan Xichen can see is a young man whose heart has always been kind, who cultivates with evil things he can’t understand but who’s using it to keep a group of helpless people safe. It is not such a sudden change of heart for him to wish to see everyone around him treated well and fairly.

“Xichen,” Nie Mingjue says, startled by his declaration, but Lan Xichen puts a hand on his knee beneath the table, a silent promise to explain himself later.

“We’ll help you. The Lan Sect. What do you need?”

Wei Wuxian is staring at him, mouth hanging open rather comically, and so it’s Wen Qing who speaks up after a moment though Lan Xichen can see in her eyes that she doesn’t trust him yet.

“Food. Blankets for A-Yuan and for the elderly at least. And we want to be left alone.”

“These are the only demands you have?”

“What else could you possibly offer us, Zewu-Jun?”

“Fertile land,” Lan Wangji supplies, eyes beginning to alight with the first dangerous edges of hope. “Protection. Homes.”

“In Gusu?” Wei Wuxian cuts in to ask. There’s weight behind that question, a hostility, but when Lan Wangji looks at him all Lan Xichen can see is his desperation.

I want to bring a man to Cloud Recesses, his brother’s voice echoes softly in the back of his mind. Bring him there and keep him safe.

“It would not have to be permanent, necessarily,” Lan Xichen supplies, hand tensing a little more on Nie Mingjue’s knee when he feels the man shift restlessly beside him. “But it could be. None of this should have happened to you and your family, Wen-guniang. Will you allow the Gusu Lan to begin attempting to make reparations?”

Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing look at each other but whatever passes between them in their glances is beyond Lan Xichen’s comprehension.

“I will think about it,” she replies after a moment and Wei Wuxian turns on his heel to put his back to the rest of them, effectively hiding whatever expression he makes in response. “Come back in three days.”

It’s a clear dismissal and so Lan Xichen stands, Nie Mingjue at his side. Lan Wangji doesn’t move, his eyes fixed firmly on Wei Wuxian’s back, but he doesn’t seem to be included in the dismissal anyway. Wen Qing simply leads them to the doorway again where Wen Ning is standing patiently on the steps outside, likely to keep any eavesdroppers away.

“We’re escorting Zewu-Jun and Chifeng-Zun back to town,” she informs him and he falls in quickly at her side.

“Where is Lan-er-gongzi?” Wen Ning asks with a concerned glance over his shoulder. “Is he alright?”

“He’s fine. He and Wei Wuxian might finally be ready to stop acting like they don’t want to be together,” she replies so flippantly that Lan Xichen is suddenly grateful for Nie Mingjue’s hand at his elbow as he stumbles ever so slightly on the uneven terrain in response.

“O-oh,” Wen Ning stammers out and Lan Xichen is abruptly sure that if it were still possible he would be blushing. “Well that’s nice I suppose. Is Wei-gongzi going to go to Jin Ling’s one-month and see his sister?”

Wen Qing glances back at them at that, though what she’s measuring them for Lan Xichen isn’t exactly sure. “Whose idea was it to have him there?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Wangji’s.”

“Oh yes then I daresay he’ll go no matter if it’s a trap or not,” she remarks so dryly that she actually gets a chuckle out of Nie Mingjue, which is startling to say the least. Lan Xichen looks at him, trying to gauge what he’s thinking, but he’s got his expression carefully locked into stern, unreadable lines. They continue on in silence down the mountain and back to their inn in the town. Only when the Wen siblings have departed and he and Nie Mingjue have retired to their rooms does he unbend enough for Lan Xichen to see that he’s deep in thought.

“Do you think Jin Guangshan truly means to destroy the amulet?” Nie Mingjue finally asks when Lan Xichen has waited him out long enough for him to speak his mind.

“In all honesty no, I do not. At least not right away, and power corrupts. We already know he is a man of vices, it’s no secret that power is one of them.”

“Can you really offer the Wens land and protection without consulting anyone else? The elders, your uncle?”

“It will have to go through more official channels I suppose to actually begin the movement – we’ll need to send resources to keep them clothed and fed while travelling and cultivators to keep them safe, after all. But yes, that is something I can offer them. I will make my case to the elders with what we saw here today, Wangji is my witness, and you could be too. They’re nothing but humble citizens who simply bear the curse of an unfortunate name through no fault of their own. So many Wens have already paid the ultimate price for what Wen Ruohan has done. There’s nothing and nobody in this last remaining group to be so afraid of that they must be eliminated. The only part that should worry the rest of the sects is that Wei Wuxian is at the helm, but their fear of him is slightly misguided as well. I believe once Uncle and the rest of the elders know the truth they will allow such peaceful people to live and work in Gusu.”

“Hm. Well alright then, the Nie will support you.”

That pulls Lan Xichen up short and he stares at Nie Mingjue with undisguised shock. Nie Mingjue at first only raises an eyebrow at him, but after another moment he exhales sharply and shakes his head as if bedeviled by a fly.

“I still don’t like the Wens but I can’t in good conscience lead them to the slaughter. If you want to protect them, then protect them. And I’ll protect you. Maybe we can finally take Jin Guangshan down a notch or two in the process, I definitely won’t be opposed. Nor do I think Jiang Wanyin will take much issue with it either, not if it can get him his brother back. And we already know Jiang Yanli will support anything that repairs Wei Wuxian’s reputation, and Jin Zixuan will support anything that makes Jiang Yanli happy. I’d say the winds are in our favor if we act too quickly for Jin Guangshan to counter it.”

Lan Xichen can still only blink as Nie Mingjue finally cracks his expression to smile ever so slightly and offer him a wink.

“You should have agreed to strategize with me days ago, none of this would have been so surprising, I thought it may become an option. Now it’s just up to Wangji to talk Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing into agreeing.”

“I believe he will find it in himself to be persuasive, and Wen Qing at least is quite sensible. I believe she understands their position well and knows that it is not sustainable for much longer. Or that even if it were, it would be better if their people could get the care and treatment they need to thrive, not just to survive. I believe they’ll agree.”

“Well we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t return once during the three days Wen Qing asked for them to wait. On the morning of the fourth day Wen Ning returns for them to bring them back up the mountain where they find Lan Wangji kneeling in the dirt with A-Yuan perched happily in his lap chattering away to Wei Wuxian, who is sitting far closer than necessary to listen as the rest of the Wens bustle around them, hurrying from field to field at a much quicker pace than mere days ago. Wen Qing meets them again at the entrance to the main clearing, arms once again crossed over her chest as she eyes them up like a hawk studying its prey.

“We accept. We’ll all come to Gusu with everything we can carry to start things anew.”

And just like that Lan Xichen gains a new branch of his family in the most unlikely of places.

#the untamed fanfic #Wangxian #Nielan #Lan Xichen #Lan Wangji #Nie Mingjue #Wei Wuxian #Wen Qing #Wen Ning #Prompt fill #I hope this works!#@ everyone who's sent in a request over the last couple of weeks:#I see the requests I promise and I'm trying to come up with stuff to write haha #It's been a busy couple of weeks

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hunflowers · 4 years

Text

Golden

Word Count: 15.3k

Requested? I don’t remember, but you always can here :)

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A/N: Lord, have mercy SHE’S FINALLY HERE!!!!! My baby Golden is finally out to the public and can I just say how fucking relieved I am to post it. I love her, I hope you do too <3 little warning: there are mentions of panic attacks in here, and a heart condition (that i did my best to research on) so if you’re uncomfortable, pls don’t read.

special thanks to my soul baby @stylesloveclub for being my biggest support system with this, she’s dedicated to you <3

for anyone reading this, please reblog! it really helps us writers out. okay onward friends!!! lemme know how i did and if you like it *nose boops*

Water. The ocean. Waves. The tide.

Symbolic of life, birth. Can be used to wash away even the most troubling of sins.

O’ahu, Hawaii, home to some of the best surfing destinations in the state, in the country, in the world. Also home to one of the best surfers in the state, in the country, in the world.

Y/N didn’t coin herself that. Not that she’s complaining about it, but she doesn’t surf for the title. She surfs for the freedom. She feels the most alive when her toes dig into the sand as she runs towards the warm, salt oblivion, her novelty yellow and blue surfboard tucked under her arm.

Her whole life she had been surrounded by water. When she was a baby, she always wanted a bath. When she was a toddler, she always wanted to stay in the kiddie pool. And then she got into surfing, and well, the rest is history so-to-speak. Her parents never got themselves involved in the sport professionally but more as a recreational activity. And it was even how they met, so really there was no stopping surfing from flowing through Y/N’s blood.

Her backyard was the ocean, so growing up, it was really the only thing for her to do. It’s what all the kids were doing, and Y/N was no different. She met her best friends on the beach when they were five years old, practicing the basics of surfing, like getting up on the board and finding their balance with the Earth.

Kalani and AJ, two of the best surfers Y/N will ever meet, and two of the purest souls to ever grace her life. They’re madly in love with one another. Have been for as long as they’ve been friends -- so coming up on sixteen years. Y/N is in awe of their relationship, she really is, but being a third-wheel isn’t exactly something she signed up for. Though, she kind of expected it when growing up.

They tried countless times to set her up with someone, but time and time again their matchmaking skills have failed, and Y/N is tired of them pitying her. No, she may not be in a long term relationship, but she hardly has time for a relationship anyway. Especially with competitions coming up, she needs to keep herself focused on surfing rather than some boy who will probably end up breaking her heart.

Well, that was her intention anyway.

October 27th, the first day of the best months out of the year.

And it started just the same as every other year. Y/N woke up at the crack of dawn and threw on her lucky white bathing suit before throwing an apple down her throat. Her surfboard was perched up against the back patio railing, and she swiftly tucked it under her arm as she made her way down the shore, being greeted by the luminescent sun that was swarming the sea in a shade of tangerine and lemon.

Jogging knee deep into water, Y/N sunk her hand just below the surface, swaying it back and forth, taking a deep breath as she felt the cool texture swarm her body. Exhaling slowly, she threw herself down onto her board, paddling onward into the great unknown. The familiar sound of the crashing waves causing her to flinch for a brief moment before comforting her ears as she watches the restless ocean ahead of her, a smile washing over her face as she could basically see her future ahead of her.

Today marks qualifying day, and obviously if she marks as qualified, she moves forward to the Vans Triple Crown. She’s been training all year, her body practically a prune with how much she’s been in the water. But, a minute can’t go to waste, so up until the very last second where she has to head to the north shore, she’s gonna remain in the water and build her intuition with how the day is going to go.

Last year, Y/N had to cut her time short when she was hospitalized the night before the first competition. So, she was all more determined to win the championship that is rightfully hers. Well, in the women’s division at least. Last year was ripped from her right when it was under her nose and she refuses to have a repeat of it.

After her hospitalization, everyone was convinced she’d never return to the water. Despite the ocean being her second home, everyone figured she would turn away -- avoid the embarrassment last year brought upon her. But, it only made her stronger and more determined to prove everyone wrong. No matter how frightening it really was.

Her first wave of the day had her coasting along smoothly, starting her out easy as waves progressively got bigger with the tide. When she got out into the water, the sun had just broken past the horizon line, yet by the time she left, the sun was nearly at its peak in the sky. Her skin felt raw, yet her body was running on adrenaline as she scoffed down the lunch her mom had made her before they banded into the family van and headed to Sunset Beach on the north shore.

Y/N’s heart raced in her chest, her leg bouncing subconsciously but furiously as she watched the landscape pass her by through the window. Her typically calming music wasn’t even working as she ran through multiple scenarios in her mind of what could go wrong today and how her day, her week, month, even year could be ruined.

Once outside of the van and on the beach, her parents pulled her close into a tight, warm hug, whispering words of encouragement in her ears, knowing just how important this was for her. Surfing and competitions had always been important to Y/N, but following last year’s downfall, this day was going to make or break whatever is left of her both physically and emotionally.

“Y/N!” she heard her name being called from the distance, the three of them immediately letting go of one another as they exchanged sheepish smiles.

“Y/N!” Was called out again, causing her to turn around and see Kalani running straight for the three of them, waving her arms in a drastic manner to gain her best friend’s attention. “Oh my -- I ran so fast, wow, I need to calm down,” Kalani breathed out, closing Y/N into a firm embrace.

“Save your energy for the waves, babe,” Y/N laughed, wrapping her own arms around Kalani’s frame. The two of them were never inseparable, it was kind of like they were actually glued to the hip together ever since they were children. And a lot of people were surprised they remained best friends through the years, what with both of them always competing in the same surfing competitions battling for the first place spot. And they knew this could be a strain on their relationship, but they decided ever since they were seven years old that they weren’t going to let surfing get between them. No matter what, they were always proud of each other for everything they’ve accomplished and are each other’s number one fans.

Thing is, Y/N tends to snag that first place spot a lot of the time, and Kalani always just misses her, earning her the second spot, right beneath her. But, Kalani has grown to accept that Y/N is better at the sport, and that’s nothing for her to be ashamed of. She’s managed to get a few of her own first place wins, and in her eyes, that’s good enough. She can’t live her life being jealous of her best friend because that’s not healthy, and anyway, surfing is much more Y/N’s livelihood than it is her own, so she’s fine with being second best -- despite what others may think.

Tugging her board off the top of the car, Y/N tucked it beneath her arm as she walked hand-in-hand with Kalani to wherever her family had set up camp on the beach. “Where’s AJ?” Y/N wondered, as she looked out into the water and saw no one out in it.

“The boys are starting soon, so he’s with Nav,” Kalani said, finally stopping in front of her parents and younger brother, and AJ’s older brother.

“Y/N!” They greeted, getting up from their chairs to kiss the girl on the cheek before greeting her parents. “It’s so great to see you back here,” Kalani’s mom smiled, pinching Y/N’s cheek before plopping herself back down under the sun.

They all began to catch up with one another since it’s been awhile they’ve all gotten together, all of them falling into old habits as if it hadn’t been months since they were last together. Y/N tried to engage in as much conversation as possible, but her mind tended to wander off as the guys started lining up in the water and making their way out. Her throat dried up and her palms were sweating -- and not from the heat -- as her nerves kicked in. Her memory began to cloud her vision as she stood abruptly and quickly walked away from the group, her heart picking up again.

Her breaths shortened as her mind blurred, and all she wanted was to curl up on her bed and calm her mind. She felt someone’s hand on her back, and immediately she could tell it was her father by the smell of his cologne. Once she was far enough from people, Y/N could feel tears well in her eyes as short images flashed across her eyes, cutting each inhale of breath in half -- which caused her to panic even more as she couldn’t breathe properly.

Last year ruined her, and she absolutely despises that this is considered her normal day-to-day routine now, her body shaking with fear as she feels herself collapsing from the inside, out. “Y/N, honey, can you hear me?” She thinks she hears her father say, but is undetermined with the intense white noise that’s swarming her ear drums.

“Count with me, c’mon, backwards from ten.”

But, all her mind could focus on was her body sinking lower and lower beneath the surface of water.

“Ten… Gotta count, c’mon you can do it, nine.”

“Eight,” she murmured, reaching out to grasp her dad’s shirt tight in her fist, just to make sure that he was really in front of her. She needs to be reminded that last year is her past, and that no matter how forward it is in her mind, it’s not her present anymore and she’s not drowning. “Seven.”

He took her hands and held them to his chest, “Six, keep going.”

“Fi-” she gulps, swallowing the lump in her throat, “..five.”

She makes it all the way down to zero, her body visibly relaxing and mentally as she hesitantly looks around to see no one watching the little event. “Do you want to go home?”

Y/N looks up to her father, shaking her head in response as she sniffles her nose and brushes away the one stray tear that has cascaded down her cheek. “No… I can do this.”

He cocks his head to the side and purses his lips, slowly nodding his head. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he turns them back in the direction, walking with her slowly as she continues to gather herself. “You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, Y/N. Everyone knows you’re an amazing surfer.”

“I think I just need to prove it to myself,” she stated, dragging her feet through the sand like a child so it slowed their arrival time back with the group. She can only imagine that her mom had informed everyone already of what was happening, and the last thing she wants is their sorry eyes and pathetic spouts of pity that she knows she’ll wish they just kept to themselves.

Y/N knows she’s broken. She’s not the same girl everyone knew this time last year, but she doesn’t need to be reminded of it every time she steps into a room. What happened last year was serious and she understands that people are worried; But all she wants is for everyone to forget about it. Including herself. She thinks the thing that’s causing her the most trepidation now -- rather than in the morning or all year long -- is the fact she’s now back in front of a crowd again, eyes trained on her like hawks watching prey, waiting for something awful to happen again.

The only thing missing is the popcorn as they watch this free entertainment.

When they finally came back to everyone, Y/N noticed the guys had started paddling out. Everyone was talking amongst themselves, dismissing her presence as she sat herself down back in the sand, and a breath of relief escaped her lips. The tension was there, but everyone ignored it for her sake, and Y/N couldn’t be more grateful.

“Go, AJ!” Kalani cheered, pumping her fist and shouting a few hoots and hollers afterward. Dom, AJ’s brother, let out a few ear screeching whistles, the kind with the fingers in the mouth, joining in on rooting for his brother.

Watching the guys out there solidified to Y/N how real this really is, and soon her veins were pumping with excitement again instead of dread as she cheered on her best friend. He was going to qualify, they all were and they knew that, but it's always fun to get excited about the possibility of moving forward and winning the titles and earning the trophies.

All the other faces that surfed alongside AJ were mostly familiar, their names ringing bells as the announcers spoke of them, but there was one that Y/N hadn’t ever heard before. It’s the same cycle of people every year, yet this guy was fresh. And the only reason she’s curious as to who he is, is because he’s good. Like, really good.

Kalani can’t exactly remember if she’s heard of him either, shrugging to Y/N’s wonderment, “I don’t know. Maybe AJ knows.” His pink surfboard and pink wet shirt stuck out as he was a sight for sore eyes, and Y/N grew a little resentment towards him as he pulled out a few advanced maneuvers, gaining everyone’s undivided attention that used to be on AJ.

“Who is that?” Y/N’s mother questioned, looking around to see that no one knew the answer.

He was a mystery yet he radiated this vibrant energy as the guys finished their rounds, walking off with grace in his step as he laughed at something Nav -- one of the three’s friends -- had said. The girls bid their goodbyes to their families as they headed over to where the guys were before their rounds. AJ immediately came running over to them, hugging Y/N and Kalani simultaneously before giving his girlfriend a quick kiss on the lips. “You did great,” Kalani smiled, keeping her arms wrapped around his center.

“Alright, not in front of me,” Y/N grimaced, looking away from them. Immediately her eyes landed on the new surfer, still talking to Nav, and she was quick to turn back to AJ to ask who he is. “Hey, who’s the new guy?”

Looking over his shoulder, AJ saw who she was talking about before realization dawned on him. “Oh, that’s Harry. He’s from England. A really nice guy, I bet you’d like him,” he winked, causing Y/N to look at him with squinted eyes and pursed lips.

Kalani nudged his side, giving him a weird look. “What? I’m just saying.”

Then, speak of the Devil, Nav and this Harry guy came walking over, joining the three as they stood around waiting for the announcement that the girls could head out. Y/N wasn’t exactly paying attention to her surroundings as she continued to calm herself down for the impending near future. It wasn’t until Harry had stood in front of her, that she was knocked out of her own thoughts.

She looked up at him, making eye contact and briefly getting her breath caught in her throat. When he was far away, it was hard to make out his facial features or what he exactly looked like. But being right in front of him, she was merely astonished at his beauty, but more so his green eyes that reflected the perfect amount of sunlight. His wet, brunette hair rested against his forehead and seemed to be drying a bit curly.

His head tilted slightly, an amused smirk inching up his face as he watched her reaction. Something tells her he’s used to this kind of reaction. “M’Harry.”

His hand came between the two of them, waiting for her to grasp it in a firm grip. Y/N was hesitant at first but finally took his hand and shook it gently while greeting herself before dropping her hand back down to her side. “Y/N.”

This is insanely awkward. Especially because her friends are just watching the exchange silently, as if they weren’t allowed to speak while the two introduced themselves.

Harry has heard of Y/N. It’s hard for anyone involved in the surfing business to not have heard of her. Aside from the jarring news from last year, she’s an excellent surfer and her name is always spreading around like wildfire. She’s part of the reason Harry decided to delve more into the professional surfing world, because he’s been itching to meet her.

Y/N is attractive, anyone with eyes knows that, but Harry wanted to meet her only because of her expansive skills in the water. Standing in front of her, he can’t deny her undying beauty -- and if he weren’t such a gentleman he’d probably be trying to woo her this very instant. But, her looks aren’t what draws him to her, and he decides to not think with his dick for once.

Before he gets the chance to say something else to her, they get notified that the girls should start heading out for their rounds. Y/N and Kalani grab their boards and tuck them under their arms before bidding their goodbyes to the boys and scurrying off to join the rest of the girls.

“Whipped already?” Nav jokes, wrapping his arm around Harry’s shoulders and leading them to the sand where they’ll watch.

Y/N steps her toes into the water, basking in the cool feeling wrapping around her toes and surging up her body. She rolls her neck feeling it crack softly before rolling her shoulders back and taking in her umpteenth deep breath of the day. Her and Kalani looked at each other, nodding with smiles on their faces before they walked deeper in the shallow water until it reached the middle of their thighs before dropping their boards down and paddling out.

At the sight of a small wave heading toward her, Y/N dipped herself beneath the water just to wet her hair. It felt refreshing again to feel the salt coax her skin for the second time that day, as if it never left. When she greeted the air again, she could immediately feel the rays of the sun bouncing off of her skin, illuminating her in a heavenly glow, like the star she is. The spotlight is on her as she aims herself for the peak of the impending wave, nabbing the first ride of the girls’ round.

Back on the beach, her mom’s fingers were crossed, her dad’s breath was caught in his lungs, and Harry’s eyes were fixated on her figure as she jumped up on the belly of her board. Her legs kept her balance against the rough matter below her. Due to the steep wall of the wave, Y/N had to act quick and rational in order to keep control, and started off with an off-the-lip, which kept her parallel with the wave before she moved herself down and carved herself back into the energy zone.

Because it was a smaller wave, she could only go on for so long before she tipped herself off the board and fell down into the water. Everyone waited with bated breaths and kept their eyes on the area she sunk beneath the blue, before sighing in relief to see her head pop back up. Harry could see the joy wipe over everyone’s faces, replacing the worry that was once there as they hugged one another. He could tell Y/N has such a good support system, and it only urges him more to want to be a part of her life.

Of this life.

❊ ❊

“You guys did so good! We’re so proud,” Y/N’s mom gushed as she pulled her into a warm embrace -- a hug that holds more meaning than just being proud. Her mom was relieved. Grateful. Happy. She’s able to hold her daughter one more time, and that’s all she could ask for. “It’s going to be a good year for all you kids.”

Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She was elated, overjoyed, ecstatic, riding such a good high. Her comeback couldn’t have gone any better and she’s just so, so happy. Arriving at the beach she was nervous and anxious and was two seconds away from caving to her fears and running away. Now, as she walks arm-in-arm with her best friend away from the water for the night, she’s laughing a genuine laugh and her veins are currently pumping excitement rather than nerves.

AJ locked his arm over her shoulders, the three of them linked just like they always are as they head towards Y/N’s family van. But, instead of like other times, this time they have a tag-a-long trailing behind them. It’s sort of like a tradition where after every competition, all of the families join together and head to dinner at their usual restaurant. Nav couldn’t come because he had his own family matters to attend to but Harry was more than willing to accept the offer. He says he came to Hawaii alone and that he had nothing better to do, but his intense stare on Y/N when he accepted the offer says that’s not the only reason he was so quick to join.

It was also part of the tradition that they ride together in the van, 1) because it was the most spacious vehicle where they were able to ride together and 2) because Y/N’s parents are pretty fun to be around. They blasted the best music and made the best jokes, causing not one dull car ride. When they filed in, AJ and Kalani pushed themselves to the back seat, leaving Y/N and Harry to sit in the separate middle row chairs.

“Oh! Harry, I’m sorry, I forgot to ask. Does your family want to join us? They’re more than welcome to,” Y/N’s mom looked over her shoulder in the passenger seat.

He cleared his throat, looking up from his phone and sitting up a bit in his seat, an uncomfortable look on his face. “M’here alone, actually.”

Before anyone could ask any questions, AJ clapped Harry’s shoulder, saying, “We’re your temporary family now, man.” Despite being competitors, it seems the two of them really hit it off and AJ genuinely meant what he said about being Harry’s family. Though, everyone knows the main reason he said it was to diminish the rising tension.

“Thanks, mate,” Harry returned, fist bumping AJ. And during the little exchange, Harry caught eyes with Y/N, catching her eyes wandering around his profile and facial features, causing her to look away quickly and look out the window as if the view was something spectacular. She could hear him snicker quietly, and just when she thinks the coast is clear, she slyly looks back at him just to find out he’s already staring at her.

They really love staring at one another apparently.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Y/N and Harry were pushed to the back of the group -- not really by choice but somehow it ended up that way -- and neither of them really made any moves to break the silence between them. Y/N because she was nervous, and Harry because he wanted her to be the first to speak. And it just so happened that when they were sat at a table, they were left with the last two remaining chairs that also happened to be right next to each other. Y/N couldn’t figure out if they were doing this on purpose or it was by coincidence, but she can tell Harry doesn’t mind.

She’s not one to be nervous around guys, but there’s something about Harry and how he is so blatantly interested in her that makes her wary of talking to him. Kalani sat across the table from her, and when they made eye contact, they had a silent conversation about how Y/N should grow the balls and actually talk to him. Of course Y/N refused, which earned her a kick to the shin in retaliation, which then caused her to let out a yelp of pain and made everyone look at her confused and worried.

“Sorry, hit my knee on the table,” she brushed it off, glaring at her best friend the moment everyone turned away and continued with their own conversations.

Being as slick as possible, Kalani directed her eyes to Harry when he wasn’t looking so Y/N could see her, before turning to AJ and talking to him about something completely irrelevant. Again, Y/N and Harry were stuck in this silence. She’s not exactly sure why she can’t just start a conversation, but he’s kind of intimidating and she’s afraid of embarrassing herself, especially in front of her family.

Pursing her lips and looking down to her lap, Y/N finally turned to give Harry her attention, noticing how he was staring into space, looking completely lost in this foreign setting. “So, uh, where exactly are you from?”

Harry was quick to turn his head to Y/N, waiting and waiting and waiting for the moment she would say something. “A small town in Cheshire. Northwest of London, if that helps.”

“That’s a pretty far trip to take alone,” she nods, licking her bottom lip before gently biting down on it. As much as she thinks of herself as an independent person, she’s also an extreme homebody and could never imagine going anywhere without anyone by her side, whether it be family or friends.

He merely shrugs in response, “M’better off alone.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side while looking at him, letting his words sizzle inside her mind as she tries to overanalyze him in the mere hours she’s known him. She turned her gaze down to her hands that were intertwined in her lap, mulling over her next words to say. She doesn’t know him, but she knows the feeling of being alone. And being alone, no matter how appealing it could sound, never works out in the end. People aren’t meant to live alone. It goes against the natural order of life, and just hearing him say he prefers being alone breaks her heart just the tiniest bit. “No one’s better off alone. Everyone needs someone eventually.”

Little does she know, is that she is his someone. Or, at least that’s what Harry’s hoping. He thinks he’s crazy for being so enthralled by someone so suddenly and so strongly, but Harry’s always been one to trust his gut. His plushie but toned gut was screaming at him that this girl is just meant to be in his life. Maybe meant to be his, but he won’t push his luck. “Guess we’ll have to wait an’ see.”

They both smiled softly at one another, a small blush creeping up Y/N’s cheeks for the umpteenth time that day. “I guess we will.”

❊ ❊

It had been a little over two weeks since qualification day. Her days hadn’t changed much in regards to her schedule; Waking up at the ass crack of dawn and heading straight into the water and staying in practically until the sun was set. But, there was one slight shift in her day, and that was the now familiar face of Harry popping in everyday, either physically or in her mind.

It was safe to say Harry was quickly adapting to the three friends, merging with them seamlessly; As if he had been part of this little group since he was a child. It’s not like any of them minded, especially AJ because he was happy to get another guy around. Their friend Nav wasn’t exactly a permanent part of their little group because he belonged to everyone and no one, but Harry stuck around them like glue and AJ was so grateful.

Y/N’s grateful because now she isn’t a third-wheel.

Harry and her aren’t exactly buddy-buddy, but it definitely helps having someone else around for movie night so Y/N isn’t stuck watching her best friend’s all cuddled up together and hearing the occasional kiss they would share.

Though, Harry has made it known time and time again that he really wants to be buddy-buddy with her. And Y/N’s not exactly sure why she won’t give him what he wants, but for some reason she loses all comprehensive skills and becomes a blubbering, nervous mess around Harry whenever he brings up his interest in her. So, she’s successfully avoided all buddy-buddy conversations with him by bringing up mundane things instead. Like, why she decided to paint her nails blue, or why she absolutely despises white socks.

She thought she was doing a pretty skillful job too. But, after the first two times she avoided giving a yes or no answer to going on a date with him, Harry purposely would ask her just to hear what other obscure distractions she could come up with. He loved hearing Y/N talk, and without her knowing, he was getting to know her piece by piece, inch by inch, and he was loving it.

Though, a guy’s ego can only take so many rejections before he gives up completely. And just when he was ready to call it quits and accept that she wasn’t interested in him like he was her, the unexpected happened.

Y/N agreed to a date.

Well, kind of.

It was time for the Hawaiian Pro. The official first event of the Vans Triple Crown. It was taking place at Ali’i Beach Park in Hale’iwa, one of the most intense surfing spots filled with waves of many different faces. Of course, this is when Y/N’s nerves really started to kick in. Qualification day isn’t anywhere near as filled with people as the actual events are, and her nerves have seemed to kick it into high gear. It doesn’t help that the Hawaiian Pro is when her life changed a year ago. She could hear people whispering about her, wondering if she’s going to wipe out again or if this time she’ll stay under the water. Her mind was already frenzied enough, but nothing completes the cycle like a panic attack and the embarrassment of many on-goers witnessing said panic attack.

She almost backed out. How is she meant to be the best when her body is afraid of taking its final breath? The tide was high and the waves showed no mercy. How is she meant to challenge that? How is she meant to control the water beneath her when she can’t even control her own thoughts?

It was getting to be too much for her. This entire time leading up to the Triple Crown she’s denied her fear and her anxiety, telling herself she’ll get over it. She’s been doing good all year, so what makes now any different? But it is very different. The calm atmosphere of her backyard is no match for the rambunctious setting of the Triple Crown. And she’s a fool for thinking differently.

So, she was panicking.

Y/N couldn’t even get up from her seat in her parent’s van because she was so shaky. Her father held her close, easing her back to reality and away from her tortuous mind. Of course, he offered to drive them back home and away from the competition, telling her again that she didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. But, she declined again. Because she needed to prove it to herself. She’s stronger than her mind lets on, and she needs to make sure she knows that.

When she slid off her board and sank her toes back into the warm sand after a very successful first round, landing her in the lead spot, she was finally able to breathe again.

People congratulated her on her comeback, astonished to see her doing better than ever before. Her parents embraced her with love and elation, so beyond happy to see her laughing and smiling and enjoying herself now that she’s progressing forward. Kalani of course is her number one supporter, practically jumping on her and screaming in her ear about how happy she is for her best friend.

Everyone was making their rounds hugging Y/N, and then it was Harry’s turn. They didn’t exactly embrace like the rest of them had, but he threw his arm over her shoulders and pulled her to his side, squeezing her to him softly before looking down at her and saying, “Absolutely wicked, love. Gotta teach me some of y’fancy moves.”

“You sure? They’re really only meant for the pros,” she teased, biting at her bottom lip to conceal her laughter as he scoffed.

“”Ey, no one likes a narcissist,” he shoved her shoulder softly, rolling his eyes as her laughter rang through his ears. “But, whaddya say? M’gonna need a good teacher if I wanna make it to the big leagues.”

Y/N simply shrugs without really thinking much into it, “Sure.” Her mind didn’t exactly process what she had agreed to until later that night, before she dozed off into her temporary slumber. Her eyes shot open and her body sat upright as an over dramatic gasp was inhaled into her lungs. Her mind had been all over the place with the competition that she didn’t realize that she had agreed to being alone with Harry for the first time since they'd met. Immediately she texted and called Kalani, to which she got laughed at in return.

“Kalani, this isn’t a laughing matter!”

A few miles away, Harry was snuggled into his bedsheets, a bright smile stretched across his face as he reveled in the idea that he finally was going to be alone with Y/N since the first time they’d met. His heart was jumping and his stomach was fluttering as he envisioned her pretty face behind his eyelids before he drifted off into his dream with her.

“It so is! C’mon, Y/N, what have you got to lose? You have the same interests, he’s funny, he’s hot, and he clearly is into you. Enjoy something outside of surfing for once.”

Enjoy something outside of surfing for once.

That’s the thought that stuck in her mind, lingering around as she finally fell asleep, and then when she woke up, and when she was eating breakfast; And doing her chores; And hanging out with Kalani; And eating dinner; And then falling asleep again. Y/N didn’t even realize she had spent so much of her past year focusing on her career and health that she hasn’t done much of anything else.

She’s so grateful to be alive, but she’s hardly given herself the chance to live again.

Before her accident, she was always up for adventure and was always the life of any party. After her accident, she hasn’t even been to a party. She hasn’t been in a relationship in years, she hasn’t gone on a date in a long time, and she can’t even remember the last time she’s had sex or kissed a guy. She’s been so focused on her redemption, that she can’t remember the last time she was genuinely happy.

Going on this date, but also not a date -- but also clearly a date -- with Harry just may provide her with that. And she owes it to herself, to her past self, that her accident isn’t going to shape her life anymore.

Plus, she really enjoys Harry’s company. And even if she doesn’t show it so bluntly like him, she really likes him too.

The next day, Y/N and Kalani had gone out shopping, enjoying a nice girls day out. They had bought a few new varieties of swimsuits (as if they didn’t have enough) and a few other types of clothes, got some lunch, and even found time to watch a movie. And they did all of this right up until the moment Y/N decided it was time to text Harry.

She wasn’t sure how to go about this, because she’s never really asked anyone on a date before, or followed up with plans (?) about a date. Kalani kept urging her to just rip the bandaid off and to get it over with, saying something along the lines of, “You’re not getting any younger. Plus, I think he’d slip right off his board at the sight of you in that new yellow suit you got.” It was just a simple bikini, but it showcased the majority of her skin that essentially left little to the imagination.

But, the thing is, whenever Y/N gets into the water around people, she can’t help but cover her torso with a wet-shirt, insecure of the imperfections that lined her skin. It’s rare she can bear to look at her skin, so she only assumes no one else would want to either. So, she’s not so sure he’ll fall off his board at the sight of her, but the thought is nice.

Y/N pulled out her phone and hovered over his contact for a good amount of time before Kalani grew impatient and snatched the phone from her friend’s hand. They wrestled around with each other to try and gain custody of the phone, but finally in the end Y/N was able to hold her phone tight in her hands before declaring, “Okay! Okay! I’m texting, I’m going.”

Kalani peaked over Y/N’s shoulder as she watched her type the allusive message to Harry, a proud smile carving over her lips as she watched her break down a barrier she had subconsciously put up. It isn’t by any means important to be in a relationship or to have a boyfriend, but Kalani knows deep down that Y/N was wishing to have that special connection only a relationship could provide -- a connection outside of the realm of friendships.

“There,” Y/N huffed, shoving the screen of her phone in her best friend’s face.

hii, if you’re still up to learn from a true professional, I’m available tonight :)

It wasn’t even ten seconds later that she got a reply.

Shit, I’ll be your best student, babe. I know a perfect spot, I’ll be at yours in an hour.

It was kind of amusing to Y/N that he said he knows a perfect spot, as if she hadn’t been living on this island all her life and practically knows it like that back of her hand. But, that miniscule thought was pushed to the very depths of her mind as panic coursed through her as she realized what she was getting herself into. She’s going on a date, not a date, but also a date with Harry, and a small hour wasn’t enough time to gain her composure.

Fuck.

❊ ❊

It’s no surprise to Y/N when Harry shows up to her house a minute early. She’s half convinced that he had been waiting outside of her house for the past fifteen minutes until he finally stepped up on to the porch of her house, knocking rapidly on the door. It wasn’t an emergent knock that caused some sort of panic, but it was a frantic knock that screamed ‘let’s get the show on the road.’

When she opened the door, both of their breaths were robbed from their lungs. Y/N essentially looked like she always did but something about her glowed differently to Harry; maybe it was because she’s his for the night. For his eyes only. Just him and her. He was awestruck.

Harry essentially looked like he always did but something about him radiated differently to Y/N. The same little smirk was nestled in its usual spot, but this one held a different meaning. It looked the same, but maybe it was different because it was just her and him tonight. He’s hers for the night. For her eyes only. Y/N was nervous.

Y/N left her board out on her porch so she wouldn’t have to walk around back when he got here, but she was silently wishing she didn’t so she’d get just a couple more seconds to get herself together. She just kept chanting, “It’s not a date!” in her head, in hopes it would make her feel better.

It didn’t.

Harry saw her board and tucked it under his left arm as he threw his right one over her shoulders guiding her his mode of transportation. It also wasn’t a surprise to Y/N to see Harry rolling up in a light yellow Jeep; the top down and the doors off, typical of any surfer dude, no matter where they originate.

“Her name’s Betty,” he smiled, walking around the back and giving her a quick tap on her rear end before stepping up to straddle Y/N’s board safely and securely.

Sliding through the empty passenger door to take her seat, Y/N was greeted by a familiar smell, a smell she could only associate with Harry. And even if she could never admit it, she loved it a lot. It was mouth-watering and intoxicating, and simply put, it was Harry. Even with the open atmosphere of the car, it was still drenched in this specific smell, and Y/N can’t help but giggle at the image of Harry spritzing whatever cologne into the car before arriving at her house.

A few moments later, Harry slid into the driver side, placing the sunglasses that were sitting on the dash over his eyes, shoving the key into the ignition and starting them on their journey to whatever beach he had envisioned. On the ride there, over the course of a few right turns and lefts and different exits on the highway, Y/N surprisingly had no idea where they were going. Did she think maybe he was gonna murder her? A bit. But, she felt comfortable around Harry. So, she felt it in her gut that she was going to come out alive from this… event.

When they got to the beach, it was about thirty minutes from Y/N’s house, and she had no idea where they were. They had to walk a short path to meet sand and ocean, but once they made it past the clearing, Y/N was in awe of the site ahead of her. People could think that seeing the ocean every day ruins the peaceful and magical aura surrounding it. But, Y/N never gets sick of greeting it. The sun was beginning to set, and the water was glowing with a yellow-pink hue by the horizon that blended into a bright blue by the shore. The cliff sides around them guarded the little alcove, feeding into the tranquil atmosphere.

“How did you find this place?” Y/N wondered as she kicked off her sandals, and shimmied her shorts down her legs before kicking them over her sandals. The yellow bottom of her bikini was visible, and she turned her head just as Harry took a large gulp at the sight of her in front of him; Just for him. Her blue wet-shirt stayed on though.

It piqued Harry’s interest as to why she never took off her shirt. He understood for the competitions, but even when it was just a casual outing, just him and her, or them and their friends, she always kept it on. It wasn’t his place to ask, but he wished she would’ve broken this barrier down just this once. Just for him. “Tha’s a secret for me to know and you to maybe find out.”

Y/N let out a giggle - why? she didn’t know - and turned her attention back to the boy that brought her here, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she caught Harry taking off his white t-shirt, now only clad in his little pink shorts next to his little pink board. His skin looked extra dewy, and his tattoos seemed to glint under the setting sun. Before she could devour him with her eyes, she picked up her board and took it with her, running down to the water and shouting, “C’mon slow-poke, gotta get in the water before the sun sets!”

It wasn’t a surprise to Y/N that this didn’t keep on track of a teaching lesson. Harry doesn’t need to be taught, he’s amazing on his own. He pulled off his own tricks that Y/N didn’t even know the name of, and she was asking him to let her in on his little secrets. He locked his lips in return, throwing the imaginary key somewhere over his shoulder, “Y’think I’m g’na tell you? I’m far too narcissistic to let you beat me at my own game.”

“Who said I’m gonna beat you?”

“Have you met you?”

There’s a reason Y/N’s name circulates throughout people’s brains, why her name is common in any Hawaiian household, why Harry was itching to meet her. She’s good at what she does. Insanely good that it’s kind of concerning. Not everyone can come back from a life-altering experience, but Y/N took those stereotypes and crushed them beneath the tail of her infamous yellow surfboard. She reveled in the doubts and came back stronger than ever. Of course she would beat him at his own game. She’s the only one who could.

There wasn’t any telling how long they had been riding wave after wave, in the water with no one else but just each other. But, the sun almost halfway past the horizon line was a good giveaway. They were probably nearing the two hour mark, and they knew they couldn’t stay out here all night, but Jesus, how they wished they could. Y/N wasn’t expecting to be so content, thinking this would be some strange, awkward, uncomfortable time they would want to forget about the moment they left each other’s sides.

It’s the opposite.

Just for him. Just for her.

They both laid on their boards, limbs sprawled out and dangling into the water as their bodies shut down in exhaustion. Y/N can’t remember the last time she went so long without taking at least a ten minute break. Her body was most definitely not used to it as she felt her back mold into her little yellow board, accepting the relaxation. When she finally opened her eyes back up, she turned her head to the side, admiring Harry’s profile as his arms were pulled over his head, the skin of his torso being stretched, which also stretched the ink that adorned him.

Y/N got lost in the mirage that is Harry, that she didn’t even realize he had turned his head and caught her ogling. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that her eyes snapped to his, heat traveling up through her body and rushing to her cheeks. “M’eyes are up here, love.”

“Uh- right. Yeah, I know.”

“Cool. Hey d’y’wanna play twenty questions?” He asked, sitting up to straddle his board and paddling himself around so he was facing her.

Y/N squinted her eyes, “Are we children?”

“I mean, I guess not. Doesn’t stop my five year old humor though,” he smiled, kicking his foot up to splash her with an inkling of water as his childlike, petty comeback. “You ask first.”

Y/N pushed her hand through the water to spray him in an ounce of sea salt before turning her head back to the sky, contemplating her first question. “Mm… favorite color?” She already knew the answer.

“And you asked me if we’re children? C’mon, darling, know you wanna know more than tha’. Pink. What was your first impression of me?” He wiggled his eyebrows, even though she couldn’t see his face. This has been one of those things that’s been nagging at the back of his mind ever since they first met. Their first encounter wasn’t awkward per-se, but the fleeting moment of introduction wasn’t exactly one worth remembering either. But, Harry was always going to remember it. And depending on Y/N’s answer, he hopes she will too.

At this, she turned her head back to Harry, hand covering her eyes as the sun glared at them over the reflective water. It was a sight to behold, seeing Harry glow in the golden hour light. “Intimidating. But, also unique,” she began, moving to sit herself up and paddle her board around so she was now facing him. “You remind me of a singular cloud in an otherwise clear sky. You’re not meant to be there, yet you’re not out of place.”

Harry sat for a moment, staring. Completely in awe. Head over heels. Never would’ve guessed those words to be the ones tumbling from her lips. It was the way she didn’t hesitate in her sentence, as if those words had been formulated a while ago and just now was she able to spew it from her wordbank. Just for him. “Fuck, that was beautiful. Your turn.”

“Do you really think you’re better off alone?”

Harry pursed his lips, looking off into the distance for a brief moment before shrugging, “I do. But, I don’t. If it comes down to going back to my family and friends from home or being alone, I’ll choose being alone.” And he wanted to sprinkle in the little bonus that he doesn’t feel alone when he’s around her, but something tells him that’ll just turn her away. “What’re you so afraid of?”

It’s a brash question Y/N wasn’t expecting to be thrown at her so suddenly. She has a mix of answers, and there’s a specific one flashing in her mind like a bright, neon yellow sign, but she’s not certain how comfortable she is with telling him yet. Though, she notices that whatever question she could throw his way, he’d answer it truthfully, not scared of opening himself up, just for her. She wants to be brave like that, and maybe she can be, but she’s not sure how.

It comes as a surprise to her when she does say, “I’m scared of going through everything that happened last year all over again. Everyone’s afraid of dying, or at least most people are, but experiencing death… there’s really no coming back from that. ”

“Experiencing it?” He looks at her wide-eyed.

“What, you haven’t heard of what happened last year?” She looks at him, eyebrows scrunched.

“Only know you had some accident. No offense, but I didn’t really bother myself with reading the fine print,” he shrugs, running his pruney fingers through his salted hair. He didn’t know if he wanted to read it, especially not with the sudden news that apparently this very alive, lively girl in front of him… died? He doesn’t think he could stomach reading about that.

Y/N hasn’t met a single person who hasn’t heard about what happened to her. Or at least the details of it. In reality she doubts anyone outside of Hawaii knows of her existence, but in her world it was the biggest news to affect the state in a while -- aside from, like, actual serious matters, her accident was up there on the news.

She evades his second question though, not wanting to cough up the traumatic details of her past; not yet at least. “Well, it’s my turn anyway. Why surfing?”

“I could just look it up, but I get it; you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he gave her a playful look, pursing his lips while giving her a pointed stare. “It’s different. England isn’t known for surfing. It’s known for rain and football. But, with every possible detail of m’life, I wanted to make sure I was different. My dad wanted me to become a professional footy player, so I said no. M’mum wanted me to go and get a degree and a real job. I didn’t want that. So, I turned to surfing,” he swung his arms around, gesturing to the vast sea and the board below him.

“Plus, it’s given me an excuse to leave home and come here. And y’know, so I could meet you.”

Y/N felt a small blush creep up her skin again, her eyes shooting down to her lap and her feet that were distorted under the water. Harry’s infatuation with the girl isn’t a secret, but anytime he purposely makes it known, it’s like a little secret that she’s unsure if she’s supposed to know or not. “Meet me?”

Harry kicked his foot up again so water would splash at her. “Uh-uh, my turn,” he laughed, shaking his head. He knew she thought she was slick at the way she bit her lip, containing her laughter. If she wants to play by the rules of the nonsensical game, then so will he. “Sunrise or sunset?”

“Sunset. Favorite song?” She wanted to reel back from the serious talk for a moment.

“Too many to choose from. Favorite movie?” He wanted to know every nitty-gritty detail about her.

She pondered for a moment, “Mamma Mia.”

“No shit! Me too!” His mouth dropped in shock, his hand flying up to his chest.

“Really?”

“No,” he shook his head, immediately blocking the massive splash he sensed coming.

Y/N rolled her eyes, huffing at him whilst crossing her arms over her torso, “Are you always so insufferable?”

“S’my middle name, babe. You hungry?” He laid himself down on his board on his belly, paddling himself to face the beach, ready to make a head start for the beach. Y/N hummed a response, following in suit and settling her stomach against the belly of the board and pushing herself to land. “Cool, let’s go get something to eat then I’ll take you home.”

Y/N’s legs felt weak, yet appreciative back on the sand. It felt like she was walking on Jell-O as she went to pick up her towel and clothes. Looking down to her shirt, she knew it was out of the question to let him see her take it off. And she could turn her back so he wouldn’t see her front -- whether or not it’s clad in a bikini top -- but even then her heart raced at the thought. She held her t-shirt in her hands and thought it over for a moment before blurting, “Could you turn around please?”

Harry looked up from checking his phone quickly, tilting his head in confusion before looking down to the shirt in her hands. The dots are connected and the bright neon pink sign in his head is telling him to listen to her, and not to question it. So, he doesn’t. Just for her. It’s still unbeknownst to Harry why she never takes her shirt off, but he knows better than to think with his dick, and accepts her wishes, turning his back to her.

Y/N lets out a small breath of relief, grateful he didn’t question her on it. She’s quick to rip off her shirt and pat dry her wet skin before hastily throwing on her dry one, giving Harry the OK to turn back around.

“Sorry, I just… I’m not comfortable with anyone seeing my, uh, my scar,” she mumbles, nervously moving her hair from one shoulder over to the other. Harry shrugs in response, picking his board up from the ground and wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they began their walk back to his car.

“You don’ have to explain yourself to me, babe,” he smiled down at her, squeezing her to his side softly.

Y/N looked up at him, and she’s sure that if she could see herself right now, her eyes would be twinkling in delight, with adoration. Just for him. “Thank you.”

They didn’t say anything else for a few minutes, walking the distance to his lonesome Jeep in peace. The silence gave Y/N time to think and to mull over all of the gushy feelings she was feeling inside about the guy beside her. She had no reason not to like him, realizing it was only fear that was pushing her away. But, this night displayed a soft side to Harry that she fell head over heels for. His smooth, easy-going approach to life, mixed in with respect for her, and a hint of witty humor was enough to tell her how she truly feels about him. And she’s scared, not because she’s afraid, but because she’s not.

Y/N can find herself easily opening up to Harry quicker than she has anyone else because she trusts him. She can just tell he’s got nothing to hide, so in-turn she wants to be the same. She doesn’t want to cower away, but revel in happiness. Because she deserves it.

Harry quickly secured the boards back into their previous spots before sliding into the driver side and whisking them away from their little getaway. The wind swept through their hair and chilled their still slightly wet skin, causing goosebumps to trail up Y/N’s arm as chills raked through her body. This time around in the car they both were more laid back, not singing along to the songs playing on the radio but rather just listening and taking in the blissful atmosphere they’ve created.

There’s been one question dancing across her mind though ever since he brought up the little game of twenty questions. It was the first one to pop up in her mind when she was thinking of something juicy to ask. She didn’t want to ask it though, in fear of what his answer would be. But, now she’s not afraid. She’s curious though.

“Is this a date?” She queried, turning the volume of the radio down a bit so he could hear her and vice versa.

Harry glanced at her through his peripheral, one eyebrow cocking up on his forehead, “Is the sky blue?”

“I mean, right now it’s like orange-blue,” she retorted, looking at the newly sun-ridden sky that blended shades of orange into the usual night blue.

“Brainiac. There’s your answer. It’s however you want to look at it,” he digressed, reaching over to pat her thigh - in more of a friendly manner rather than sensual.

She appreciated his answer, absolutely adoring the fact that he wasn’t putting pressure on her about anything. It was hard to comprehend just how nice he truly is, and how someone could be so perfect. She couldn’t see a flaw in his looks or his personality or his morals, and all she could wonder was how someone like him could possibly like someone like her. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you, Harry.”

He side glanced at her again, this time raising both of his eyebrows in puzzlement, “I’ll take tha’ as a good thing?”

“It’s good. It’s… it’s a good thing.”

❊ ❊

The two of them had discussed where they wanted to go, neither of them wanting to decide and going back and forth with one another, saying, “No, you decide,” “No you.”

Y/N was never good at decisions, especially mundane ones like where to eat. She always lets Kalani decide because she could eat anything, and it’s her friend that’s the picky one. But, Harry is the same way. Whatever is put in front of him, he could probably eat (except for pickles, he absolutely hates pickles).

They settled for pizza. And it was going to be Harry’s first time trying a slice of Hawaiian.

Y/N hates Hawaiian slices, finding the sweetness of the pineapple and the savor of the ham unsettling atop her pizza. It sends her taste buds into shock and her mind into a meltdown. But, she insisted he try it, because how could someone be in Hawaii and not try its state-named slice?

They sat at their little table in the corner of the restaurant that was alongside a window, giggling to themselves as they played a little game of eye-spy, waiting for their food. For some odd reason, Harry was really good at this game, always picking the hardest of objects to point out, always stumping a frustrated Y/N.

“You’re cheating.”

“How the fuck am I cheating?”

“Dunno, you just are.”

And in retaliation to her accusation, Harry pointed to her shirt, stating she got a little soda on it, causing her to look down to her chest and see nothing but finger as he flicked her nose. “Too easy. Sore loser.”

Y/N huffed, sticking her tongue out at him. The playful banter between them was the best part of their days lately. Before Y/N even realized her feelings for Harry, she always looked forward to what they would bicker about -- in a friendly matter of course. Now, she constitutes that to just wanting to see him because she really enjoys his company, and him.

It’s been a long time since she’s felt this way about anyone, and she’s sort of glad she gets to feel this way about Harry. He’s an enigma, but a good one. She’s totally transfixed by him and she never wants this euphoria to end. He radiates this bright and bubbly energy that lifts her mood whenever she’s around him, and she’s afraid of losing that. But, she chooses not to dwell on the what-if, instead completely basking in the present and his gooey aura of happiness.

When the food finally came out, they both were quick to stuff their faces, their stomachs practically turning inside-out from how hungry they were. It came to no surprise to Harry that he was absolutely in love with this Hawaiian slice, already looking forward to ordering two more.

Y/N looked at him a tad worried. He was scoffing down three slices as if there were no tomorrow, all within a matter of two minutes. She was slightly worried he was going to reach over and take her dinner, because that’s how hungry he seemed to be. But, he should know better than to get between Y/N and her food. Like the one time he tried to take some of her fries, to which she punched him in the shoulder and then took them back.

“Hey, y’gonna eat that?” He points to her not yet touched slice of pizza, earning a glare that could kill in response. “Cool, you are, just making sure. Can’t let precious food go t’waste. It’s my turn for a question right?”

Y/N thinks back for a second to determine if he’s right or not, remembering she did ask a question last. She nodded her head before biting into her little piece of heaven.

“Was it hard getting back in the water?”

She brought her napkin up to her mouth to wipe away the drop of sauce she felt on her cheek, mulling over her answer. “Kinda. I knew I had to eventually because it’s all I know, it was just a matter of when. My parents were terrified, and I mean I was too but I can’t let that dictate my future. I love surfing and nothing is going to take that away from me.”

Not even something as horrifying as death could take her away from her true love. Not until she’s truly six-feet under, riding silver waves in the silver palace.

“Do you think you’re going to stay here? In Hawaii?” Y/N wondered, taking a sip of her Coke.

“Got nowhere else to be,” he shrugged, mindlessly tapping his fingers on the table in an arrhythmic pattern. “Home is where the heart is, right? Well, think mine’s here right now.” Across from her. Just for her.

Home is where the heart is.

“Does it count if my heart isn’t mine?”

Last year, Y/N was going about her day like she always did. She was fine, in tip-top shape just like she had been for the past twenty years of her life. The bright sun was out and shining over all of the surfers and onlookers, and it seemed just like every other regular day. She was paddling out into the water, and the perfect, golden first wave was approaching her. She pushed herself up onto her feet, balancing her body, in tune with the wave, executing a nearly perfect opener. Then, she felt her chest tighten and her body suddenly felt weak. Breathing rapidly grew difficult, causing her to instantly panic. She fell off her board, plummeting into the water, trying to gasp for air but choking on the sea that swimmed down her throat.

Feeling herself sink as her chest was on fire was the last she remembered. The baby blue sky blended into black and that was it. Her life was over.

Kalani was the one who went in after her, screaming for help as her best friend was blue in the face and not moving.

Y/N suffered a heart attack. Apparently, she had a condition called hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, that went unnoticed all her life. On this day, her heart had thickened extensively, making it difficult to pump blood to the rest of her body. The strain on her heart caused it to give out, right when she was feeling the high of riding a solid wave. She was pronounced dead for a total of forty-five seconds before EMT could revive her. Supposedly she’s lucky to be alive, because if not treated basically instantly, there’s a slim chance of survival. But, she was able to stick it out until the hospital.

Her heart was in brutal shape, so she was sent to the top of a donor waiting list. Y/N and her family are forever grateful for the team of doctors and nurses that stuck by her side, knowing she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them. Or her sheer luck.

Y/N felt a little crazy for feeling so comfortable spilling all of this information so suddenly to Harry, but at the same time she didn’t. And the best part about it is that none of it seems to freak Harry out. Nothing about who she is or how she is scares him. And that’s what makes her feel so comfortable. “My scar, it’s from a heart transplant. I had a heart condition all my life apparently. Then suddenly one day, it couldn’t handle it anymore, so it gave out. A girl named Shauna’s heart is keeping me alive right now.”

Harry didn’t blink for a whole minute.

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, trying to come up with something, anything to say to the girl across from him. But, he had nothing. He didn’t know what to say.

His silence was a little concerning to Y/N, making her wish she could just be swallowed whole by the ground below her. Was it too soon to drop the HT bomb? He was bound to find out eventually, and she figured it was best to rip the bandaid off on her own time rather than someone else telling him or him looking it up on Google.

She’s kicking herself over it.

Harry cleared his throat, taking a sip of his water before licking his lips and leaning back in his chair. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Y/N merely shrugged, “Don’t be. Shit happens. Who knows, if it never happened we may not be here now.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, his signature small smirk back on his face in its usual spot. He raised his glass, leaning it forward a bit toward her, stating, “Cheers to that, babe.” She raised her own glass and clinked it against his, a smile on her lips as she sucked up the remaining bit of her soda through her straw. She’s happy he didn’t turn and run away.

Cheers to that, babe.

By the time they both filled their guts to the point of feeling overstuffed, mindlessly chatting and spending time together, it was already past ten o’clock. The time had passed them by like it was nothing, but they weren’t necessarily complaining. The older couple next to them were though. Y/N had to pull Harry out of the restaurant before he bit the woman’s head off for how rude she was. That’s when they knew it was time to skedaddle.

Then they just drove around for another hour before Harry figured it was time to bring her home, much to his dismay. But, when her head lolled against the passenger seat headrest and her eyes would softly shut in exhaustion. He wanted desperately to reach over and tuck the loose strand of hair that fell out of her ponytail, behind her ear. He wanted to reach over and place his hand on her thigh as they drove down the highway, softly squeezing her skin before teasingly inching up towards her hidden gem.

Is it too soon to be in love?

It was like a slap in the face when Harry parked in front of her house. Reality stuck its nose into their little wonderland bubble, and unfortunately, they couldn’t push it back out.

Harry hopped out of his seat, unfastening her board from the trunk and tucking it under his arm as they walked side-by-side to her front door. He gently placed it down where he had initially found it earlier on, tucking his lips into his mouth as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

“I uh… I guess this is it. I had a really ni-”

“I’ve got one more question before you leave me,” he interrupted her little speech, stepping impossibly closer to her, barricading her between him and the banister on her porch. It wasn’t hard to notice the long stares at her shiny lips that glinted in the dull yellow glow of the light by the door. He purposely took extra time to rake over the features of her face before finally meeting her eyes.

Y/N swallowed nothing but air as she softly bit at her bottom lip, “Yeah?”

She already knew his question.

“Can I kiss you?”

He already knew her answer.

Y/N slyly looked at him, bringing her hands up, a bit hesitant to rest on his shoulders. “I thought this wasn’t a date.”

“Sky’s blue.” Y/N looks up at the sky and notices it’s dark blue hue, twinkling stars layers on top, surrounding the fullest, brightest moon. It was a beautiful sky, perfect to share a first kiss under.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers as his hands came up to her hips. Her eyes fluttered shut, waiting for the climactic moment to overcome them, the air of the night chilling up her spine.

But, then she felt fiery, red hot as their lips locked together in a soft kiss. It was as soft as they felt towards one another. This giddy, slow paced, admiring kiss that had their insides melting but their hearts pounding. This kiss is exactly how Y/N images Harry. A pale yellow that’s not harsh on the eyes, that resonates happiness. Harry imagines it as a hot pink, one that takes his breath away and captures his mind.

It wasn’t long before it turned heated, Harry’s tongue sweeping into her mouth, and one of his hands travelling further south to grab hold of the flesh of her behind. Y/N let out a soft moan into his mouth as her hands tangled into his mound of curls, tugging softly on his roots.

Then the disturbing image of either one of her parents opening the front door at any moment flashed across her eyes, causing her to pull back, kissing his bottom lip softly before trailing her thumb over the swollen skin and opening her eyes to look into his gaudy, green ones.

The sounds of their breaths mingled together as tired smiles adorned their faces, little giggles leaving each of their mouths as they basked in what just happened. All Harry could think was, ‘It’s about damn time.’ All Y/N could think was, ‘Why did I ever push him away?’

“My turn,” she spoke after a few moments, standing up straighter and fixing her shirt around her body. “Pick me up tomorrow?”

A wide, shit-eating grin spread out across Harry’s face as he ran his hand through his mangled curls. “Sunrise. If y’not in this exact spot in the morning, m’knocking the door down and dragging you out by y’hair.” He hopped down off the porch, completely skipping the steps as the adrenaline of their first kiss kicked into his system.

“Sunrise,” she agreed.

He hopped back into the driver’s side of his Jeep, throwing his hand up in a goodbye wave as he sped away, already counting down the seconds until he would see his golden ray of bright and bubbly sunshine again. He’s not so sure if he’ll be able to fall asleep.

Y/N didn’t have that same problem. The moment she landed on her bed, her eyes shut faster than the speed of light, her last conscious thought being of Harry. Her smile never leaving her face.

❊ ❊

Meeting at sunrise had become part of their routine. Not always to surf, but just to be together. Sometimes they surfed at their little alcove, other times they would watch the sun from her backyard, snuggled up in blankets on the beach. Or, they would surf, get breakfast, then fall back asleep in his bed until a more decent hour of morning.

But, their day always began at sunrise. It would be the equivalent to say that it also ended at sunset, but sunset was always too soon to part ways.

This wasn’t an everyday occurrence, mostly at random. Except for Sundays. Sundays are specifically their day, as per request of Harry. How could he be in love with a girl that coined yellow as her color, that had a smile as bright as the huge burning star, that claimed golden hour was prime sun time, and not deem Sunday as their day? He didn’t put any second thought into it.

Despite their sort of fast paced first date, they’ve been taking things slow, truly getting used to the feel of one another over the course of the next couple of months. It wasn’t until a month later that Harry popped the question, officially making Y/N his forever buddy-buddy. Well, not necessarily forever, but they both know it’s basically forever.

Harry never wants to be alone again.

It wasn’t until the night after they became official that Y/N finally took her shirt off in front of him. She was going through one of her episodes, and Harry was the only one around who could help her. He managed to calm her down and bring her inside her house - that was empty because her parents had gone out for the night - and get her to the bathroom so she could take a shower.

Initially, he was going to let her get in by herself, knowing her boundaries in regards to her body and not seeing it. But, when he saw how worn down she looked, he whispered words of reassurance in her ear, asking her permission to help get her in the shower. He wasn’t thinking with his dick, he just wanted to help the girl that didn’t know how to help herself.

Y/N looked him in the eyes, nibbling softly on her bottom lip before averting her attention to her chest for a few moments. She trusts him, and if they’re bound to work out, she needs him to be comfortable with seeing all aspects of her both mentally and physically. Which includes her scar.

So, she nods her head in agreement.

She lifted her arms and allowed him to remove her shirt, immediately feeling self-conscious. She couldn’t look him in the eyes as she stepped out of her shorts and underwear, going into the shower to avoid any lingering stares. Harry was quick to follow behind her, shutting the curtain after him. That’s when Y/N turned around and completely broke down, the tears that have been building behind her eyes finally pouring out. Harry wrapped her in his arms, letting her cry her eyes out for however long she needed.

When she stopped, Harry washed her hair, washed her body, washed away her bad thoughts, then washed himself as fast as he could so he could get her into her bed for the night. She snuggled up to his side, enjoying the warmness of his body that contrasted her cool ones.

That night when her parents came home, they spotted Harry’s Jeep in front of their house. Though when the house was eerily quiet, and found the door to her bedroom slightly ajar, they peeked inside and saw the two of them fast asleep. Parents usually would get angry at the sight of their child in bed with someone of a different gender, but not Y/N’s parents.

Over the last two months, they saw their daughter break back out of her shell, slowly returning to her former self, and all because of Harry. They saw how happy she became whenever he was around, or they’d overheard happy she was when just talking about him to Kalani. How could they ever get angry at the fact that Y/N was happy?

With the blossoming of their relationship taking place at the same time as the Vans Triple Crown, word got around fast and soon enough they were the star couple leading the ranks in their respective divisions. The world -- or really the surfing world, because no one really pays attention to professional surfers, was in awe of them. They were the hype of the news, of the town, of the state. Rightfully so, because they’re awfully cute.

It came as no surprise to everyone when the two were crowned the champions. The press went wild with this one, stating there was some scam happening behind the scenes, because what were the odds that this new star couple could both win? Or, how could Harry, a newbie, shoot his way up to the top in just one year? Or, how could Y/N dominate with her physical ailments?

There wasn’t a hoax and there wasn’t any cheating. They both were just that good.

The day of the final competition, they may have worked just a little harder to land the championship title. Harry had picked Y/N up and they traveled to their secret hideaway bright and early in the morning. After being out at a party the night before, the two were in no shape to get in the water already, opting to snooze under the shade of a cliff on the beach for a little while.

They didn’t sleep for very long before they got wrapped up in one another, indulging in a morning session of intimate love. They slept for maybe an hour before Y/N was ready to get her swim on, but Harry was the biggest sack of lazy mush that morning. He didn’t want to get up for nothing. He was laying down on his surfboard, completely comfortable under the shade. Y/N tried tugging on his arms to get him up, but he wouldn’t budge, a half-sleepy and dazed smile on his lips.

At one point he tugged her back, causing her to land on his lap, legs straddling his hips as her face crashed into his chest. His arms wrapped around her back, securing him to her as he said, “See? Isn’t this so much better than physical activity?”

“C’mon tubby, we got shit to do,” Y/N giggled, but Harry just held onto her tighter and nuzzled his cheek to the top of her head.

He hummed, “S’comfortable here.”

Y/N didn’t know what else to do, so the only maneuver left was bribery. Harry’s no different than any guy in the sense that once sex is brought into the mix, his ears perk up and his dick stiffens. So, Y/N was going to use that to her advantage. “If you get up, you can fuck me all night tonight.”

Harry was quick to sit up, her still in his lap, eyes squinted in suspicion. Y/N bit her lip to refrain from laughing, but she was mentally patting herself on the back. His hands shifted down her back to grab onto the flash of her behind, pulling her center closer to his and building up a bit of friction. “How about right now and tonight?”

“I can’t be exhausted for today, H,” Y/N rolled her eyes, moving to get herself off his lap, but he kept her grounded.

“You don’t ‘ave to get in the water now. You’ve practiced, you’re prepared, you got this. The championship is practically in your hands already,” he disclosed, peppering kisses up the side of her neck, a few across her jawline, and then landing on her lips.

Even if that may be true, she doesn’t want that to stop her from putting effort and time into winning. “Harry…” she started, getting lost in the feel of his lips suckling a lovebite right in the crook of her neck, her most sweet spot. He lifted his hips up slightly, pushing against her heat, eliciting the smallest moan from her mouth.

“Bet y’soaking your suit. Can I see?”

They only have a limited amount of time before they need to get to the Northshore at Ehukai Beach Park for the competition. It was about a forty-five minute drive alone. But, Harry’s lips and fingers were way too persuasive, so Y/N nodded her head.

“Good girl.”

He lifted her up so her back was now against the belly of his pink board, her legs immediately wrapped around his broad shoulders as he placed a chaste kiss to her clothed core. She whined as he hooked his fingers into her bikini bottoms, dragging them tortuously slow down her legs. His eyes immediately attracted themselves to her glistening slit, her wetness practically inviting him in. “So fucking pretty, baby.”

Harry’s hands pushed her legs as far apart as they would go, licking a fat stripe up from her little hole to her sensitive clit. Y/N threw her head back as he focused his attention on her clit, swirling his tongue around the little bud before sucking it into his mouth. She was a whimpering mess, but that earned her a smack on the ass and a first warning from Harry.

“No one’s around. Let me hear you loud and clear,” he gave her a pointed look, keeping their eye contact as he went a little further south, pushing the tip of his tongue into her cunt. Y/N tried closing her legs around his head but Harry just pushed them open further, keeping a firm grip on her thighs that were bound to leave bruises. Bruises just for her.

Her jaw fell slack, moans tumbling past her pink lips louder and louder. Her nails dug into his shoulders, most likely leaving scratches he’ll find later when they’re stinging in the shower. Just for him.

Y/N was growing restless as he inserted his middle and ring finger inside of her, pushing and pulling them at an intense pace that caused her toes to curl in the sand by his hips. When he managed to push his index finger in alongside the other two, Y/N began to see stars at the stretch of her walls.

“So tight f’me. Imagine it was my cock instead. Would feel so good and full, but you’d be too exhausted for later, hm?” He cooed, letting her adjust to the extra digit inside of her before fucking her harder and faster than before. He kissed up her tummy that was visible from under her shirt before landing his forehead against hers.

His free hand grabbed a hold of her jaw, making her face him which caused her eyes to open up quickly, locking eye contact with one another. “S’a shame. M’so hard, like a fucking rock. But you’ll be too tired.”

Teasingly, Y/N nodded her head in agreement, earning a hard glare from her lover. At this, he stopped the movement of his fingers, slowly pulling them out of her. Y/N’s mouth opened wide, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion as Harry sucked his fingers past his lips, indulging in her sweetness that tasted like a little sliver of heaven.

“Wh-wha…?”

“Close y’mouth, Y/N. Gonna catch flies,” he smirked, reaching over for her bikini bottoms and sliding them back up her legs until they were nestled against her soaking wet, throbbing pussy. “Said it y’self. Can’t be exhausted for the finale today, gotta be quick on your feet and coasting the gnarliest waves. C’mon slow poke, gotta get some practice in.”

So, Y/N was pissed off to say the least. And because of this, she was extra determined to push herself as far as she could to come out on top today. Harry on the other hand, well he was just mad that he had an insane hard-on that his own girlfriend didn’t want to tend to. He should’ve expected his little stunt wouldn’t go over nicely, but the look on her face when he stopped was absolutely priceless.

When it was announced that Y/N and Harry had won in their divisions everyone was beyond elated at the news, cheers and hugs and kisses spread all around the group. Though when it was their turn to congratulate each other, they looked at each other, small smiles on their faces before they turned to make conversation with someone else. That didn’t stop them from reaching for one another though, slyly interlocking their hands together.

They were whisked away quickly for pictures, holding their trophies high in the air, the biggest smiles on their faces. Y/N’s parents were cheering them on, more specifically her because they were so proud she was able to take her life back. Y/N could cry at the sight of her mother being a blubbering mess, and her dad’s admiration sparkling across his eyes. Though, with the support of her family, Y/N’s mind couldn’t help but wonder about Harry’s family, and how they couldn’t support their son with what he loved.

With this, Y/N squeezed his hand harder, and despite the cameras around them, she leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss to his lips, the clicks of the cameras and the chatter of the crowd increasing. But, neither of them cared as they looked at one another, full of love.

Because that’s what this was. Love.

It didn’t matter that they had only met a little over three months ago, only dating for two months. They were in love. And that’s all that mattered.

Going out to dinner that night, they hardly left each other’s sides. They were being that obnoxious clingy couple that no one likes being around, but they didn’t care. Because they both knew they were in love. An unspoken love that didn’t have to be announced because the whole world knew, and so did they.

“Cheers to the love birds! And for the love of God, could you stop looking at each other like that,” AJ gagged, causing everyone to laugh before they clinked glasses.

When they left the restaurant, Harry and Y/N hopped into Betty, driving around for a little while before they decided to stay at his for the night. It was when the wind was blowing in her hair again, the moon shining above them and shining through her hair, his hand gently on her thigh, squeezing softly in contrast to that morning, that Harry truly felt it. This love that he has for this girl. Love that’s meant just for her. Her, and only her.

This gushy feeling was put on hold for a little while though the moment they walked through the door of his apartment. Y/N was bent over the arm of his living room couch, her one leg bent and on the armrest beside her while the other was trying its best to keep her steady on the ground. Harry’s fist was wrapped up in her hair, proving to make it more difficult for her to keep her balance. Though she wouldn’t want it any other way.

“What’s the matter, babe? You said I could fuck you all night.” Harry’s hot breath coated the shell of her ear, “Y’tired?”

She gasped at a particularly hard thrust that felt like it had hit against her cervix, trying to get the word No out in between her moans and whimpers.

“Hope not. Had me aching all day for your tiny cunt. M’gonna need a few hours to really appreciate it.” She could feel his menacing smirk against her skin as he again thrusted so far deep inside of her, her one leg gave out. If it wasn’t for Harry holding her up, she would’ve fell right over, too weak to even try and get back up.

They went twice on the couch before Harry helped her get to the shower, where they did it again. And then when they finally cleaned themselves, they got into bed, where they did it again, but this one could be classified under love-making. It was slow and sensual and sweet, just like them. Harry paid extra attention to her scar, trailing down the tissue with soft kisses as they softly climaxed together.

It was a little past midnight at this point, and they were both extremely tired. Y/N was on the brink of dozing off into dreamland before Harry interrupted her exhaustion.

“We never finished our game of twenty questions, did we?” He murmured, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Y/N lazily opened her eyes, shaking her head, “Don’t believe so.”

“Think it’s my turn,” he hummed. “Do you love me?”

There was silence for a brief couple of seconds, making Harry think Y/N had dozed off before answering his question. But, Y/N just needed those seconds to collect her mushed thoughts inside of her mushy brain before giving him a coherent and valid response.

“Yeah. I do.”

Harry smiled, probably the biggest he’s ever smiled, leaning down and taking hold of her face and smashing their lips together in a ceremonious kiss.

“Sick. Ditto, Sunshine.”

#it would mean so much if you tell me what you thought #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles #one direction fanfiction

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viltrumitesuperboy · 4 years

Text

Race You There (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Gender neutral. Also I kinda wrote some stuff that sounds like Doctor Who sorry but yall got the same abilities. I could have made this longer but I don’t actually know how to write?

Requested by: anon Could you possibly write a Steve Rogers x Male Reader, who has the power to move through time and space, and also has decelerated aging? Maybe Steve could realise the reader seems familiar and the reader reveals that he saw Steve back in the 40s because of his power, and then lots of fluff and cute romance?

Word count: 1268

You traveled a lot. You'd seen so much in the future and the past. You learned to blend in and hide, how to take the attention away from being the center of attention. It was hard to stay in one place for too long because there was just so much to explore, and making long-term friends was difficult when they noticed you weren't ageing and knowing that you would see their death without ever having to jump in time.

You were currently in 1940's Brooklyn. It was just before they would have to fight in the Second World War. You liked New York. People ignored you in New York, so it was easier to get around. A lot of alleys meant finding secret places that would eventually become something else just as secret in the future. The mystery left you wanting more.

As you slipped into an alley to grab some clothes off of a clothesline, you heard loud footsteps running somewhat in your direction. You barely managed your way through the alley in the night.

"I don't like bullies," said the first voice. "Especially ones who do it through organised crime."

The response was laughter, probably because the first person sounded like a hero complex personified, and sounds of a fist fight got you moving without grabbing any clothing.

"Hey!" you called.

The three men turned to look at you, the smaller and shorter one still in a defensive position as he watched at the other two warily. You tried to adopt a typical 40's New York accent.

"Get outta here. Or I'll call Costello on ya."

The two men looked very afraid, but one looked a bit doubtful.

"I'm his right hand man. You want me to let him know that you're just picking on some kid instead of doing your job? Go on."

They ran off, and the smaller man looked at you with curiosity.

"Costello? Like Frank Costello, crime boss? You know him," he said, though the last question was more like a statement.

"Of course not," you scoffed, slipping back into your usual accent. "I was bluffing. Hoped it would get them away. You know, I don't really like bullies either."

He laughed and held out his hand. Something about his face was familiar. You took it and he gripped with the strength of anyone else, despite his small size.

"Steve. I'm supposed to leave with my friend, but I might have gotten into some trouble a bit earlier than I meant to," he sheepishly admitted.

"Well, don't let me hold you back. You're lucky you got out of that. Don't expect my help again," you lightly teased.

You shook his hand once and let go, walking away and ignoring his questions as you left him behind. You've interfered enough with the poor boy's situation, and you had a feeling that Costello wouldn't be too happy once word got around that someone claimed to be his right hand man.

———

You'd gone further back in time. Your existence was kind of a paradox already, but you were fixing timelines just by being there at the same time. A quick visit to Galileo explaining how to adjust his telescope allowed him to see what the rest of the world never had before. You told him to take the credit, as history marked him to have done. You took a visit to Venice, considering you were already there, taking in the sights before you had to leave again.

You took your time going to different places on Earth and even other planets, but you always came back because it just happened to be your home. Sometimes you could control your power. Other times the universe chose for you.

You were pulled ahead into New York, but this time in 2012. You narrowly missed an arrow to the face. You cursed the universe briefly. You ran towards a parking lot, where the Avengers had decided to stand in a circle, backs to one another with a crowd of aliens around them.

"My god, what kind of strategy is that?" you mumbled to yourself.

You materialised into a middle part of the crowd and using your power to create a forcefield that knocked out a few around you. You remembered a point when Scott Lang and Hope Van Dyne had to deal with "Ghost," who you had only seen for a bit. You tried to fight in a similar way, appearing and disappearing in different spots. When you got knocked into the ground from a badly timed jump, you reminded yourself to find Ghost and try to learn from her.

"Get out of here!" Captain America himself shouted, throwing his shield into the Chitauri's neck.

"No!" you stubbornly responded, jumping back into the heat of battle.

He looked surprised for a second looking at you, but you had jumped away, knowing you would need to help Natasha with the portal in a moment.

The rest of the events leading up to the need for renovations in the entire city had you sitting in a shawarma place with the Avengers. You passed by the Hydra agents that were just doing their job on your way down, but you knew they'd be taken down in a few years. They were making small talk with each other now that they had finished their meals, the owners of the restaurant giving them the special treatment that they would obviously get.

Tony was fascinated by your powers, and Bruce tried to hide his excitement but he was practically shaking in his seat as well. Neither had heard much about travelling through time and space before, and in the name of science it was something they would have loved to study. You took their offer when they said they'd wanted to learn from you, since you didn't know much about it yourself. Then Captain America himself decided he had something to say about the situation.

"I know you, don't I?" Steve said from across the table. "I know I've seen you before."

"In the 40's. You're the tiny kid, right?" you confirmed. "Nice to know you're all grown up now. Took you all of 70 years."

The rest of the group laughed at your comment, but the smile on Steve's face was pleasant and not at all upset.

"Thanks for helping me out back then."

"Well, wasn't too long ago for me. I just wait to get pulled around like a puppet on a string really," you sighed. "On that note, I have someone I need to visit."

Ghost was likely active a few years ahead of now. You didn't keep around a book or anything in case of causing a problem. You stood up and left the table without a goodbye.

"Wait!"

You had just reached the curb of the sidewalk as Steve ran up to you. His hand brushed your arm before holding your hand in his.

"Will I see you again?" he asked quietly.

You paused, studying his face as you remembered the future you had seen. You had read enough books to know that you and Steve would go on adventures and share your lives together for a very long time. You smiled fondly and squeezed his hand.

"How fast is your metabolism?" you asked

"Pretty fast. Why?" he replied, his brows furrowed.

"I'll give you 10 minutes to get to your room in Stark's tower. Race you there."

You pressed a kiss to his cheek and pulled your hand away quickly. His bright smile stayed in your mind as you ran into the street, disappearing as you went.

#x male reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x male reader #steve rogers x male!reader #steve rogers imagine #male reader #request

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ask-fantasy-sanders-sides · 3 years

Note

What are the ten True Dragon Types? And what's a true dragon? I don't play D+D lol

(( Hey yall! This post is REALLY LONG (and techincally the part one to a much shorter addition about drow dragonblood descendants, here!) but the stuff in it is pretty important, since this game focuses pretty heavily on dragons and I’ve changed quite a bit about them from standard 5e! So, if you have time, maybe take a look ;) ))

(( I got a LOT of the changes to the chromatic dragon’s designs, and the pit organs of the copper dragon, from tumblr user filibusterfrog! Go check out their art and creature designs, they’re mad awesome!! ))

~~~

True Dragons are the ten subspecies of Dragon who most resemble the ancient goliaths that ruled the entire Material Plane long ago, before it was stolen from them by the ancient Elves, and most of them were killed. They are few in number and don’t tend to band together in clans, but that does not make them weak. They are still huge, immensely powerful beasts, with a natural command of magic and the elements and incredibly long lifespans.

(“False Dragons” are either farther removed from their common ancestors, or are not actually related to dragons at all and simply resemble them more than any other creature type, like wyverns and drakes!)

((More in-depth explanations below!))

~~~

After the war with the Elves and their allies, those Dragons who survived split into two pseudo-religious factions; the Metallics, who serve King Bahamut, Platinum Justicebringer, and made peace with the Elves and all other humanoids, and the Chromatics, who revere Queen Tiamat, Chaos Avaricious, who desire to see the world brought back under their thumb.

(Metallic, strongest -> weakest: Gold, Silver, Bronze, Copper, and Brass.)

(Chromatic, strongest -> weakest: Red, Blue, Green, Black, White)

These two rulers gained Deity status through their people’s reverence, and in turn shaped the bodies and minds of their people into the dragons we see today: Unlike most Humanoids, Dragons don’t exactly have free will. (Most of their personalities and decisions are directly puppeted by their Gods.) Because of this, the behavior of each Type is pretty consistent across the board, even in half-dragons or dragonblood descendants. Each Type also has a distinctive look, a set of common behaviors and flaws, and a set of Hoarding Behaviors, though they are all incredibly greedy and proud beasts.

~~~

The Ten True Types:

Black Dragons are slender and wiry, their bodies covered in slick, dense, thick tar-colored fur. Their fur is lighter around their eyes and on their underside, appearing a pale, sickly yellow or green. Their horns are just as pale, and protrude from the sides of their heads and wrap around, projecting forwards. Thick pale skin plates their muzzles and under their eyes, appearing like the naked bone of their skulls. Their front feet have extra skin that acts like a paddle for swimming, and they have flat, paddle-like tales, and the hair at the upper part of their neck sticks out like a large frill. They smell of rotting vegetation and foul water. By far the cruelest and most vile-tempered of the chromatic dragons, black dragons actively take pleasure in the suffering of weaker creatures. They hoard the ruins of old civilizations and ruined noble houses to imagine the suffering of their endings, and hoard tools of torture they might use to toy with their prey. They desire nothing more than to kill, in whatever way which maximizes the suffering of their chosen victim/s. Their weapon breath is a stream of bubbling green acid.

Blue Dragons have two large horns on their snout much like a rhino, two smaller horns by their ears, and even more horn-bumps lining their thick, crocodile-like tails. Their scales are thin, layered across thick hide-skin like a light chain mesh. They range many shades of blue, with a more cream-colored underbelly, paws, and horns. They have a dark blue mane of hair around their necks and chests, which stretches down their back and tail, between their scutes. Their chests are large and necks are short, but they are lighter than they appear, most of that center mass being applied as muscle that powers their massive wings, more powerful than any other dragon’s. They smell like arid sand, and the burning, static sting of an oncoming storm.

Blue dragons are ceaselessly vain, more concerned with being respected for their beauty and the beauty of their hoards than for their power. They are even known to spare those who flatter them enough, and allow safe passage to jewel merchants who promise them the finest in their possessions. They are still not to be trusted, and are more likely to mock and toy with lesser creatures than spare them, like cats playing with mice before a meal. They exclusively hoard gems and items laden with them, preferring blue sapphires above all others. Their weapon breath is a stream of powerful lightning.

Brass Dragons are one of the most distinctive. Their wings attach all the way to the tips of their tails, longest at the shoulder, making a V shape from below. Their thin, brass-colored scales -- which start brown when they are young, turn brass, then turn blue in splotches as they age -- radiate heat and light. Large curved plate-like horns extend from the dragon’s eyes and cheeks on either side and curve upwards into two points, and a mass of brass and brown spotted feathers grows behind them, fluffing out around their chest and neck like a lion’s mane before tapering down their back to the tail. They have two sharp horns on their chin that curve downwards, giving their muzzles a faux beak-like shape. They smell like freshly worked metal.

Brass dragons are the most benign of the ten, wanting nothing more than to converse with other creatures. They love to talk, to the exclusion of every other possible activity. They hoard items that make conversation easier, like sentient magic items, genie lamps, and items with charm effects. Brass dragons have two separate breath weapons: a narrow line of fire, and a cone of sleep gas. (All Metallics have a lethal breath and a non-lethal breath)

Bronze Dragons have small, reflective scales (which are red at infancy but turn bronze in color during adolescence,) and black claws and horns. As they age, the tips of their wings and horns turn teal blue at the edges and tips, and their scales turn teal in long stripes. They have four large horns on each side of their heads, three protruding from each cheek and one from the top of their brow, all pointing back towards their tail. Their tongues are long and purple-grey, with a shallow fork like an iguana’s, and their teeth appear to be forged of broken glass, like the moray eel’s. A series of long spikes runs down the upper part of their necks, the spikes curving slightly backwards towards the tip of the tail. A dorsal fin runs from just beneath these spikes all the way down to the tip of their tails, mirrored by another long fin that stems from under the chest and runs along the underside of the body. Bronze dragons smell like sea spray.

Bronze dragons are curious and stubborn, possessing a strong sense of justice and a deep-seated hatred for all forms of cruelty. They crave the sea and the pursuit of freedom, often spending their time taking human shape and becoming pirates or seaside mercenaries. They are brilliant military tacticians, and they demand high salaries for their work. The only time they will charge into battle without compensation is when fighting against a powerful tyrant, where they can expect to go all-out, and exercise their true strength without restraint. They hoard keepsakes and memorabilia from the wars they’ve fought and adventures they had, including sunken ships, old cannons, and legendary weapons. They have two breath weapons, a lethal lightning breath and a repulsion breath that does no damage, just moves things around.

Copper dragons have short, smooth faces, with pit organs and cheek ridges that point backwards. Their long segmented horns begin as smooth brow plates and extend backwards, and plate-like scales extend backwards from the tops of their heads and down their backs, with incredibly thick hide on their underbellies and the insides of their limbs. Their scales are wide and large, like interlocking shields, and dome over their wide bodies, making them look much like pangolins. These scales begin orange, yellow, or green in color, turning copper as that dragon ages, then green in spots and splotches as they reach adulthood, though they remain red-orange around the eyes. Tucked underneath the bottom ridges of the lowest scales are their alar limbs, short but articulated, and manta-like wings grow from them down to the base of their tails. When fully opened, they seem to make a U shape from below, with red and green discolorations at the end. Their tails are long, wide, prehensile, and well-armored, and they have long digging claws.. As they age, these dragon’s pupils turn a glowing turquoise green. They smell like stone.

Copper dragons are even-tempered and sociable, with an insatiable love for riddles and jokes. They love to share in witty conversation and play “harmless” pranks, but get offended easily at those who don’t like to laugh or talk, and people who do not find them funny. They treasure moments of good companionship, and hoard items that remind them of people and conversations they’ve enjoyed, as well as old tomes that contain their favorite stores. They have two breath weapons; a line of powerful green acid, and a cone of gas that slows anyone who touches it.

Gold Dragons appear like the typical depiction of a Chinese dragon in our world, but their fur, scales, antler-like horns, and claws are all the color of glittering gold. As they aged, even their pupils faded away until their eyes appeared like pools of liquid gold. Notably, they do not have wings, flying entirely through magic and force of will. They seem to glow in the sun, though whether they are actually glowing or their scales simply reflect sunlight very well is anyone’s guess.

Gold Dragons are passionate and valorous, desiring nothing more than victory over evil. They are relentless in their hunt for evil creatures, injustices, and foul play of all forms, putting aside all other desires and even often food or shelter to combat cruel forces in the world that require more force than humans are capable of. They are personally grim and reserved creatures -- not unkind, they simply don’t prefer company, and usually avoid casual contact with other creatures, even fellow dragons. They hoard the spoils of their evil-hunting conquests -- hoards of chromatic dragons they’ve slain, jems from the bowels of a purple worm, etc. They have two weapon breaths, being a cone of fire breath and a spray of some chemical gas that weakens all who inhale it...

Green Dragons had long, snake-like bodies and smooth snake-like scales. A large, waving crest fin starts at this dragon’s nose and runs the entire length of their body. Their scales and fins start a dark blue-black when they are young, turning dark green as they reach adulthood, and then their underbelly scales lighten to a paler green as they age. They also have exceptionally long, slender forked tongues.

Green Dragons were master manipulators and liars, who enjoy corrupting weaker creatures (especially elves) and hoarding them like possessions. They will put up a front of diplomacy and deceit when bargaining with stronger foes, but reveal their true cruel and petty nature when intimidating lesser beings or when they gained the upper hand. They delighted in stalking their chosen enemies for information and exposing other’s secrets, but despised whenever they were exposed in a lie. Their hoard took the form of a network of spies and captives, who the Green Dragon blackmails and manipulates into servitude and dependence. Green dragons are one of the weaker of the true ten and despise getting their hands dirty with violence, counting any encounter that couldn’t be ended with words and mind games as a failure. Their breath weapon is a cloud of yellow poison gas.

Red Dragons appear like the classic English/European dragons, with fire-red scales, reptilian bodies, and large bat-like wings that fray along the edges. Their horns, claws, and underbellies are a pale golden color, growing back from the skull and curling back and upwards towards their wings, twisting on themselves as they grow longer. Red dragons were of an enormous size and wingspan even for dragons, true powerhouses of their species. They smell of smoke and sulfur.

Red dragons embody the worst of all their kin’s vices. They are voracious over-hunters, vain and covetous hoarders, and cruel, maniacal, sadistic tyrants. Short-tempered and hot-blooded, Red dragons are known to make all decisions without an ounce of forethought, completely confident in their ability to do anything they want. They delighted in the ruin, death, and destruction of other creatures and their settlements, wanting nothing more than to set the planet ablaze and reap the rewards of dead men’s gold. They hoarded anything with material wealth, wishing to be the richest creatures alive.

Silver Dragons’ bodies are tube-like in shape, with soft, iridescent silver fur all over their bodies. The fur on their underbellies and jaws are more white than metallic, with pronounced goatees of longer whiskers under their chins. They have curved wings with two talons instead of the usual one. A beautiful stripe of glittering opalescent fur runs down from the top of their heads all the way to the tips of their tails, sticking up like a spiked frill or mohawk of pearl thread, abruptly fading to a purple hue at the tip. Their antler-like horns and long claws were also pure silver with opalescent purple tips. They smell like rain and petrichor.

Wise, noble, and playful, Silver Dragons do not go out of their way to fight evil like the gold or bronze, but wait to be asked for help; They were simply more concerned with protecting those humanoids they had come to befriend than actively seeking out injustices. They are obsessed with the lives and cultures of humans and elves, spending most of their time among them, taking the shape of a humanoid and pretending to be one of the crowd. They desired to spend most of their everyday lives in humanoid form (though it should be remembered that they still consider themselves to be the most superior creatures in the world). They hoarded works of art and historical artifacts with connections to civilizations they admired or befriended, and the friendships they made with humanoid people (though they did not physically keep the people themselves, like Greens and some Brass). Their breath weapons were an icy blast that froze solid all it touched, and a short-lasting paralyzing gas.

White Dragons appear very similar to Silvers, at first glance. But, unlike the lithe and flexible silvers, White dragons are stocky and muscled; still streamlined for maximum speed but built with considerably more strength. They have manes of long, thick white fur on their shoulders and back, stretching down their tails and the outsides of their limbs. Their underbellies, faces, and the inside of their limbs are plated with glittering translucent scales, shining all shades of pearlescent white, icy blue, and opalescent lavenders. Their claws are obsidian-colored and long, optimized for climbing and digging through solid ice, and their tales are tipped with a leathery swimming fin. A singular horn-like crest grows back from their skulls under the mane of long fur, and a large dewlap hands from the underside of their necks, with spikes growing down from it. Like red dragons, their wings appear frayed and punctured towards the ends, but usually aren’t actually damaged. Their eyes are fully black, turning a light purple as they age. They have a crisp, vaguely chemical smell.

White dragons lack the cruelty of their kin, but they make up for it in pure strength and ferocity. It is believed that they are actually one of the strongest of the chromatic dragons, (unlike their typical placement on the hierarchy,) but because they chose not to engage like other dragons; They purposefully abandon their natural talents for magic, and even their intelligence, choosing to behave as massive animals. White dragons despise socializing or even speaking to other creatures, resorting even to fleeing their lairs for the day if they see someone approaching. If bothered persistently they are known to make deals with other creatures (as long as they aren’t hungry or angry already when you show up), and even form bonds with them, at which point they are very protective and loyal allies. They are some of the most excellent hunters on the Material Plane, seamlessly blending otherworldly intelligence and heightened senses with animalistic vigor and savagery. They are still one of the most dangerous of all ten dragons, though, from their tendency to go full ‘animal’ and hunt any creature that moves. They hoard anything that glitters shines in the light (including chunks of ice), and their breath weapon is a blast of freezing cold.

#lets roll #long post #long answer #like SUPER LONG this time guys #but this stuff is important #this story is VERY dragon-centric #game lore #I got a LOT of the changes to the dragon’s designs from tumblr user filibusterfrog! Go check out their blog!#please tell me if i need to tag anything else!

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blueprint-han · 4 years

Text

on top of the world ↠ hhj.

genre: royal au; fluff inspired by a fucking barbie movie leave me alone okay

⇥ warnings: if having a ballroom dance with hyunjin is a warning, then <3, district names are randomly chosen, not meant in reference to SKZ !!

wc: 1.5 K

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not aim to represent the activities of the real Hwang Hyunjin, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: drabble.

taglist: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz @sunoo-luvs

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @tpwkjerii (requests for this are closed now!)

↯ note: dghwey i had literally no idea what to write for your url, so i searched up the full form of “tpwk” and ended up with “treat people with kindness”. I developed it into an idea i already had. Tell me if you like it <33 ⇥ dawn.☀️

↯ note 2: oh... i cannot... write fantasy for the life in me. ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Ladies, all in line.” The instructor clapped her hand, signaling all the princess and lady royals to line up in front of her. You quickly scrambled out of where you were seated, almost doubling over your heels as you tried to wobble your way to the line.

Oh curse those heels. They were gonna be the reason you crashed headfirst into the floor one day, you were sure. They were those typical pointy, magenta colored pumps that only an expert in poise could pull of properly. Your uniform didn’t help either, layers and layers of clothing — topped of with a jacket, which meant you would be sweating buckets if it weren’t for the air conditioning.

Gosh, you hated being the princess and heir to the next throne. Why couldn’t you just lounge in the courtroom in your sweats and sneakers? They were more fashionable anyway. When your mom had told you that you were gonna attend “Royal Training School”, you’d pictured horse riding in the lush green stables, elegant dinners with rich silverware, and most of all — just having some time away from the royal castle, just having some time for yourself and having fun in that time.

Well, you were in for a huge mess.

It’d been only a week since you attended this place, and you hated it. The place woke you up at 5 a.m., shoved breakfast (which was mostly a piece of “high gluten” bread) to your hands and then took you ballroom dancing. So your day was terrible from the beginning already. There was no horseback riding, no sword fighting, because according to your parents — “princesses didn’t do fights”. Seemed superstitious to you, someone with a forward thinking mind, but what could you do?

Too dazed in your thoughts, your foot slipped and you lurched forward. You yelped loudly, but before you could catch the attention of the class or feel the polished marble against your face, a hand wrapped around your waist, ceasing your fall and holding you mid-air.

“You okay, princess?”

You snapped back into attention, eyes meeting with your classmates, all of them having a shocked look on their faces, and some of them anger. Turning around, you were surprised to gaze into hazel brown eyes that seemed to draw you in without reserve.

“Um..., princess?”

“Ah, yes!” You snapped out of it once again, straightening up as you smoothened the fabric of your shirt. “T-Thank you.” You took once glance at his face, and... wow. He was absolutely ethereal. His golden locks of hair fell perfectly over his temples, he adorned a majestic black suit and by just looking at him, he exuded confidence.

He giggled. “It’s alright, princess. Glad you aren’t hurt.”

“Oh, that-”

“Ahem!” The both of you looked to the side, noticing now how the entire class, along with the instructor were giving you snobby glares. “If you’re done chit chatting, can we start out class, Princess Y/N and Prince Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin. That was a pretty name.

You noticed that there was another line of men, wearing similar attire like Hyunjin, lined up in front of the princesses. “They must be from another academy,” Silent thoughts flooded your mind as you took your place, and your eyes went wide when you found yourself face to face with the Hyunjin guy again, though there was a reasonable distance between the both of you.

“Now, royals.” The instructor chimed, clacking her heels against the surface as she waltzed to the edge of the room. “You’ve been practicing ballroom dancing with yourselves for a while now, so The Head and me decided that it would be a good idea for you to get a little peek of what the actual thing looks like.” She said uninterestedly, picking at the underside of the nails as she started the music.

Immediately, slow, melodious music flooded through the speakers as you looked at one another. and then at the guy in front of you... err, Hyunjin. “You’ve already been partnered up, so get started.”

Your mouth dropped open a bit when you realised what the instructor’s statement meant, almost panicking when all the girls next to you bowed down gracefully, coaxing you to follow the same. Hyunjin did the signature “bow down and lend a hand” pose like his other classmates, and you hesitantly straightened up, lending a hand to him.

Immediately, just like how confident he looked, he pulled you close to himself, settling his hands on your hips as a smirk graced his features.

Ah... so he’d noticed you blushing.

You didn’t know why you were blushing in the first place. You’d never met this person before, but something about him just made the giddy schoolgirl in you bubble up to the surface. You shyly settled your hands on his shoulders, moving along to the beat with his motions... and silently praying your ant’s worth of dancing knowledge would not fuck this up.

“So, should we do the introductions?”

“What?” You asked, almost stumbling on your feet once again. You made a mental reminder to burn the current pair of heels you were sporting.

“Don’t you introduce yourself to the person you’re dancing with?” he heaved a laugh, almost melting at how adorably bashful you were getting in his hold. You were about to mumble a response, but then stopped, gathered your confidence, and smiled sweetly.

“Oh well then, I’m Princess Y/N from District 8; honor to meet you.” You said in a sing song voice, muffling a laugh as Hyunjin twirled you around in his hold and pulled you back. The velvet coat was soft under your touch, and for some odd reason, you wondered how his soft-lookin hair would feel under your palm.

“I’m Prince Hyunjin from District 10; equally honored to meet you,” He tilted his head to the side and you noticed him bite his lip for a second. Brushing it off, you continued swaying to the music, feeling slightly more at ease now.

“How’s school here, princess Y/N? You enjoying?” His tone was respectful, almost like he was talking to a friend he met after many years,

“Nah,” You rolled your eyes, making Hyunjin look at you like a confused puppy, waiting for you to explain. Hyunjin wasn’t used to someone hearing they disliked royal training, especially when he’d found it nothing but enjoying.

“It’s just the same old. “Oh go to ballroom, learn to balance books on your head, walk with grace, eat your food elegantly, dance again. sleep early!” Your voice was a hushed whisper, yet mocking. “You’d think that’s what I should’ve expected, but I wanted to learn sword fighting, horse riding, that kind of stuff. They barely let us outdoors here.” You tsked, watching as Hyunjin bit his lip again.

“What?” You asked, figuring that Hyunjin knew you’d noticed his action.

He chuckled. “Your stepping on my toes.”

“Oh crap I am?” You looed down, pulling your feet farther away from his as an apology crawled up your tongue, but before you could shoot it out, Hyunjin stopped you. “It’s okay.”

“Maybe I’ll step on yours and we’ll get even?” He winked, a smug look on is face as he waited for your reply. The music was basically forgotten at his point, both f you lost in a world where nobody else existed, just you, your thoughts, your words, and your giggles. You mirrored his playful expression. “I’d like to see you try.”

Hyunjin didn’t break eye contact, and you felt a small flutter in your chest when he did so. He lifted his foot, but you were too quick, you moved your foot away the moment he settled his own down, and then for revenge, you stepped on his foot once again.

“Ouch!” Hyunjin shrieked, and thanks to the loud music. no one could hear him. You hadn’t stomped too hard thankfully, but Hyunjin’s cute expression when he crinkled his nose sent you into a spiral of giggles.

“Hey! You’re supposed to treat people with kindness” He pouted, twirling you around once again as he led you to the next spot in the ballroom. Your feet basically slid around at this point, and you didn’t even mind your heels.

“Yeah? That’s what you get for trying to step on a princess’ toes.” You rested your head against his shoulder, muffling your giggles as well as calming your heart at the sudden sprut of confidence.

Hyunjin’s grip on your waist tightened, making you straighten up, faint heat dusting your cheeks. The dance was almost coming to an end, and you wished it could go on forever. You hadn’t had such fun in a while, but unfortunately, Hyunjin didn’t belong to this academy. Sadly, the dance would come to an end.

“Maybe I can teach you horse riding?” Hyunjin inquired, a curious glint in his eyes as he watched your reaction. You gasped in shock.

“Y-you’d be willing to do that?”

“Of course, if you’re up for it.”

“How will we even do that?”

“I mean, you can’t tell me you haven’t sneaked out of the premises at night.”

You remained silent.

“Thought so.” Hyunjin winked again. “So, what do you say?”

You twirled around one more time, moving slightly closer to him when you came back this time. The next moment, the music stopped, and you murmured to him with a smirk pulled at your lips.

“I’d be on top of the world.”

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

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mc-critical · 3 years

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your analysis of selim? i think he's hated way more than he deserves. hating him for valid reasons is fine but telling that he's gonna be such a bad sultan is really stupid [and especially because only now do they bring out history & say selim was bad which is historically inaccurate as well]. out of all of suleyman's sons, it was only mustafa who was loved by all & talented [show only cuz apparently mehmet was also extremely talented & selim wasn't a bad sultan] enough for the throne. bayezid was extremely hotheaded and you can't tell me that a prince who can't control his emotions, especially in front of state officials, will be a good sultan. everyone tells selim was extremely selfish & the instigator of all their fights, when they were younger & older. siblings are always like that?? mustafa obviously wasn't like that because he was way older than mehmet, mihrimah, selim, bayezid & cihangir to get into stupid fights w/ them. mehmet & mihrimah had frequent & annoying arguments because they were closer in age. selim & bayezid had frequent fights because they were closer in age. this is a thing with many siblings; the elder provoking the younger & the younger disrespecting the elder. why do people point out their sibling fights as evidence for selim's personality? i feel sorry for bayezid as a kid but i feel less remorse for him as he's older. i don't say he deserves execution, especially at the hands of his own father, but he did rebel against his father's order & then proceeded to flee to another empire; like, the punishment for that is execution, what did he expect after rebelling? i feel extremely sorry for all his sons though, they didn't deserve this fate when they were just victims of their father's rebellion. also, unpopular opinion but bayezid is lowkey overrated pls don't cancel me i love him but he's annoying at times like all characters & no one really acknowledges it back to selim, he was honestly very underrated. he was really slandered in the series and he didn't have any real support w/ him until nurbanu & sokollu. although hurrem did vouch for him to go to manisa, it was literally only because he was 'peaceful' [we can read that as untalented as well] and no harm would reach him because he wasn't a threat [i actually really liked this plan of hurrem's, tough & clever; only if she was actually supported in this]. even mihrimah, till the end, is quite unfair to him. he had a problem w/ alcohol & people telling him to just stop? like, it doesn't work that way? people have to suffer so much in order to stop their addictions & they're actually restricted from their addictions; selim was a prince, no one around him could restrict him [his parents could but they weren't w/ him in his provinces]. he did become politically active w/ nurbanu's growing ambitions & he took smarter, more cunning & dirtier measures than bayezid to win the throne. the battle for the throne was bloody; resorting to honour like mustafa did was obviously not the best decision & people insult selim for being cunning enough [or being influenced by cunning people] to win the throne. let's also keep in mind that selim didn't even have much of an interest for the throne until manisa & nurbanu. i also like his relationship w/ nurbanu. it paralleled suleyman & hurrem's w/ the concubine arcs but selim did end up being monogamous to her in the show. their chemistry was fantastic [props to engin & merve for their acting] and although i don't really enjoy the 'a woman makes a man strong & influences him in everything; good or evil' kind of take, i did enjoy their relationship [he also sometimes looked at her like she was this ethereal type miracle, appropriately so w/ her courage]. i like what the show did w/ bayezid's execution a lot, the whole scene was such a wonderful cinematic experience; the music, bayezid's agonizing screams, his sons falling one by one, selim crying because he didn't want it to end up this way, bayezid falling & his screams ceasing, selim's heartbroken face because he was always a soft person & he always loved bayezid;

ahh, what a scene, so much love for it. anyway, that's just my opinion; i think he's hated way more than he deserves, especially in comparison to other characters & he's actually one of my most favourite characters from s4 [but i honestly love all characters w/ their good & bad, mc has many complex characters & i live for it]. what do you think about selim? sorry if you got annoyed at the long ask, i can get really heated when talking about selim [especially in reference to his historical figure], hope you don't mind if❤ [if it is annoying i'll stop it]

(okay, I'll talk strictly about the show, since I don't feel like delving deep into historical waters. There is still stuff we don't know for sure and I do want to keep the line between show and history in my head, except for the similar themes.)

While he isn't particularly my favorite character, I appreciate MC Selim and he is a very interesting subject when it comes to analyzing him. I'm actually amazed with what the show did with him in the span of a season (and something, counting some S02B and S03B moments) - he was one of the most fleshed out characters in S04 and we could get a clear picture as to why he does what he does.

Some people consider his debut to be an insult, for it immediately showed some of his weaknesses, putting him in a bad light right out of the gate. But all I can see in this debut is a showcase of his predicament of the prince no one sees as a capable heir of the throne. It’s as if he sleeps with women and drinks as a coping mechanism he’s delved into, with Mihrimah having to do effort to snap him out of it. The Selim we see in the beginning of S04 is a hopeless person. He doesn’t have dreams and ambitions, it’s as if he’s a already a lost cause and he has no one to truly support him. Even Hürrem wanted to send him to Manisa not because she deemed him as worthy, but to use him as a shield in order to deceive her enemies and protect the actual favorite. That may seem like a clever plan, but in actuality, it failed spectacularly - not only did her enemies not get confused for a second and didn’t attack Selim at all, but she forgot to tell Bayezid why she did it and made Selim confused to the point of demotivation, because none of his brothers were truly happy with this decision and they were all opposing it, directly and indirectly. And while he may not show it that much, because of his more composed and pragmatic nature, Selim is sensitive to the opinions of his brothers and the people around him and their prevailing disapproval may be a part of why he became so different than the rest. It’s like no one wanted to get to know him.

Nurbanu’s entrance in Selim’s life is very cathartic in this aspect, for she actually worked with him and gave him the needed motivation and ambition to fight, awaking sides of him that were dormant for a long time. And yes, I do think that Selim’s pragmatism is something he always had, if the whole arrow incident in S03B where he sabotaged Bayezid’s arrow, which caused him to lose is any indication.

{I don’t think that the quarrels Selim and Bayezid had when they were little are so much indicators of Selim’s personality as they are foreshadowing of their future conflict. Right, these quarrels are normal for siblings and Mehmet and Mihrimah also fought like that (heck, even little Mehmet and Mustafa had a fight once in S01 and that fight was used as the conflict of the remainder of that one episode), but they weren’t as frequent as the ones of Selim and Bayezid. I don’t know, it’s just the atmosphere of these scenes was different and hinted at something more. It could be because we know the historical events and we could see every tiniest bit of early sibling rivalry between them as build-up, but still, I always felt there just was something else. Like the whole arrow incident I mentioned, a presumably harmless little situation gains a whole other meaning later on. It sets up neatly Süleiman’s opinions of both of them (his reaction to apparent disobedience and the making of a scene by someone he doesn’t expect to, by which I mean Bayezid), Hürrem’s retroactive ignorance of a possible bigger enmity and the roots of the whole conflict. It’s not Selim deciding to sabotage Bayezid’s performance as a last resort, maybe knowing that he surely won’t do better than his brother (doing a pretty typical ,,prank’’ for a little, naughty kid) that is exemplary of his cunning later, it’s his validation and him getting away with it that eventually becomes it, just like how he ends up getting away with stuff in the next season. Selim definetly isn’t the instigator of all the fights, especially because Bayezid, thanks to his more impulsive nature, is much more likely to start a fight in the first place and contrasts to Selim’s overall better composure. Provokations among them were mutual and both were consistently throwing darts at each other, one after another. Their conflict is a very nuanced issue: while people try to play right and wrong, both sides were at fault one way or another. The conflict between them is mostly caused by insensitivity, favoritism and ignorance and the desperation of both to try to prove themselves to their parents and win their support, at the end of the day. Why did they always calm down in front of their mother? Not only because of their joint respect for her, but also because of these same attempts to earn her support. Even Bayezid, who obviously had to be sure of her support, wasn’t completely certain of it after Hurrem turned it on Selim for a while. Selim, on the other hand, obviously never felt her support, it’s like something was missing right from the start. Combine that with their completely opposing personalities and the whole system encouraging competition for the throne and there you have the inevitable ultimate conclusion. That’s why I also love the set-up, the pay-off and the aftermath of Bayezid’s execution. It may be historically inaccurate that Selim, not Süleiman, executed Bayezid, but when you think about it, it was the most logical thing that could’ve happened, ending their conflict with a heart-wrenching bow. I love the scene of the execution itself, too - the action, the dialogue, the direction, the character moments, the themes... I don’t know whether Selim loved Bayezid by that point, per say, after all they went through, but it was clear that he knew that he had to do it, that it couldn’t have ended any other way, but he was broken over it. He was aware that it was, ultimately, a sin, which would continue haunting him. He couldn’t catch a break afterwards, he couldn’t stop. All was solved, but at what cost?}

I love his dynamic with Nurbanu - they balanced each other off so well, their chemistry was amazing, such a power couple. Nurbanu’s biggest contribution is hiding some of his flaws and mobilizing him to fight. Her cold pragmatism ,,grounds’’ Selim’s softer side, she’s there to always remind him of the stakes of the game and to shut off the last ounces of his vulnerabilities after Hurrem died. He sure is influenced by her, but that doesn’t mean that he blindly takes her word for everything - he is always ready to call her out when necessary and assure her that there are lines she shouldn’t cross. Despite of her pleas, he kept having affairs with other women (that is honestly a trend with all the men of the show, but still..), he got mad at her after what happened to Huricihan and most notably, after he found out that she possibly stole his mother’s ring. A part of why their dynamic works so well is precisely this strenght of character and their awesome compatibility.

I have heard affirmations that Selim doesn’t care about Mustafa, which... simply isn’t true? While they have the least scenes together and Selim is the one that considers him most as a rival and his most dangerous competitor for the throne (which would explain his startled reaction after Musti saved him from the janissary), it’s precisely Mustafa’s death that is the turning point of his character arc. He was upping his game slowly but surely and before then, but he didn’t do much in terms of attacks. Neither Selim, nor Nurbanu once considered attacking Mustafa, the supposed biggest danger to them, which I find respectable and admirable. The bomb with the death drops and then every hope about a fair game is abandoned. Selim gets the realization that being honorable won’t work. The only way to win is bend the system and play dirty. There’s no time for sitting around or looking nice. And even though Nurbanu realized this, too, as well as Selim, Nurbanu was always more inclined to act this way than him and now the righteousness of her methods were only getting confirmed. It was Selim that had to reach this end. Discovering that he is no longer allowed to show any kind of weakness. Every chance that appears on the horizon, he’ll take it. That brings him to his first true dirty plan - the trap he set through the fake Mustafa rebellion.

Speaking of which, the worst deed of Selim’s for me is connected to that rebellion. I know I may be very biased in this regard, since it affects my personal favorite character and isn’t as recalled as others, but I hated when, in Selim and Sokollu’s attempts to wash their hands from the pulled off stunt, Sokollu, his man, told SS that Mahidevran was giving money to the rebellion. Okay, it’s not said outright whether is this directly tied to Selim or it was something Sokollu himself came up with out of desperation or something (though it was hinted that both thought something through in a scene where both were saying that they should come clean out of this all somehow) and it’s not outrightly confirmed whether Mahidevran gave the money or not (I highly doubt she did it; not only because it would destroy her whole S04 arc and she would become, well... MCK Gulbahar, but also because after the messenger told her of her alleged blame in E129, her eyes widened in surprise.), but all it does is be the only explicit case where Selim indeed looks bad, for his proposal to return Mahidevran in the castle doesn’t seem to stem from genuine guilt and remorse, but rather a late and empty attempt to placate his own conscience. Oh, not to mention (for the upteenth time, sorry in advance) how the scene back in E58 where Hurrem tells Mahidevran that her kids will be there taking care for her when she’s alone, which was treated as some big foreshadowing in the show, as well, by both the voice of the S02B narrative and the fandom alike, loses its value even more with that framing, because Selim and Sokollu themselves brought her to this state in the first place!!! Despite it making sense anyway, it’s still such a disservice to Selim as a person both inside and outside of the writing.

One aspect of Selim’s pragmatism I find most interesting is his ability to turn his enemies into allies, knowing exactly how to amass them and get them on his side, be it through giving them more money and promising them the world. These alliances are all opportunistic in nature and may not be as loyal as those of Mustafa’s or of Mustafa’s people (like Atmaca) with Bayezid, but I think Selim knows this and wants to keep them steady enough for the common goal. As for what kind of a padisah he’ll be.... I believe that state matters would be the least of his concerns, since he was shown to not care so much about them, compared to his other brothers (but then again, the show itself doesn’t put the political capability of the princes at center stage - their personal virtues are always the determining factor of what makes a good padisah and what doesn’t, more of a psychological outlook, if you will.) and he perhaps won’t plan as many campaigns or conquer as many territories, maybe he won’t be that successful at all, but his cunning would bring him advantage in front of his people, he will be at least a bit careful of who he’s choosing and won’t simply lose it in front of everyone, compared to Bayezid’s impulsive temper.

[I love Bayezid as a character, but the shadier aspects of his personality sure tend to be overlooked. While his anger is directed mainly at Selim and Suleiman, it often reaches such extremes to the point it becomes destructive and affects everyone. He doesn’t deserve his execution at all and most of his actions stem from a very sympathetic place, given how SS never truly gave him a chance and he went on the inevitable path, because he, just like Selim, realized that honor won’t work in this war, but took the opposite approach from Mustafa, direct rebellion. And predictably, both approaches didn’t work since Bayezid, too, was taken advantage of. While he didn’t get justice, the lead-up to his execution is a character arc of his and there are many reasons and events linking it all together and showing us why it took place the way it did.]

Selim’s dynamic with Suleiman is proof of how you can be presumably favored, but you have to work to get there. The reasons Suleiman favored him are very telling and sad and we see that he also doesn’t favor him because of any and all capabilities he may have, but because of his self-imposed distorted view of loyalty Selim has to do a lot to preserve, actually. He constantly has to make it so it looks like he’s loyal and obedient and doesn’t work behind his back. He doesn’t get the fullest appreciation from his father, as well, and I certainly feel it impacts him, in a way.

I agree that Mihrimah could be unfair to Selim. They weren’t that close and she had this open preference to Bayezid. Most annoyingly is when, in their confrontation in E139, which highlights even more their parallel sins, Mihrimah doesn’t seem to face that sin of hers when Selim calls her out on it. She has a reason to deeply resent him after what he did to Bayezid, but was offended when he reminded her of the crime she also committed. More solidarity on that front would be a bit better, at least a hint of like recognizing like even for a moment. (but maybe then her scene with Mahidevran later wouldn’t be as impactful? Huh.)

And lastly, about his drinking - Nurbanu tried to restrict him, but it’s true that such habits aren’t easy to give up on, especially knowing how his drinking is a coping mechanism as much as it is something he enjoys. He knows he shouldn’t do it, he’s told he shouldn’t do it, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t drink when he’s planning or scheming, but he keeps on doing it more and more with every problematic action of his. It’s an attempt to supress his otherwise strong conscience to the max, seeing how after his brother’s execution he apparently always took a drink when he was alone at night, fighting an inner conflict with himself. I don’t think there was a way he could stop doing it permanently in the show. It was a part of who he was, unfortunately or not.

#magnificent century #muhteşem yüzyıl #muhtesem yuzyil #sehzade selim #ask #mihrimah-sultan-can-rail-me

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geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek · 4 years

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the fate of all things

geraskier | teen | canon divergence, fate/role swap au, druid geralt, witcher jaskier, bard yennefer, canon-typical magic shenanigans, mystery-ish, fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, happy ending

this is meant to be a part of @geraltfluffweek for day 5: magic but the concept i went with is something better suited to a multi-part fic instead of a one shot so that’s what i’m doing!

starts out a little less fluffy than a fluff week warrants, i think, but it’s not going to be a heavily angsty fic and will have a happy end!

—

He wakes slowly, blinking the pull of sleep from his eyes as he lifts his head. The pale rays of morning sunlight pour through the small window in the room, telling him the early hour. His neck aches and he rubs at it, and with a sigh he pushes himself up from his chair and goes to collect more salve.

His hands are practiced and move with almost no thought from him, and he goes through a mental list of tasks to be completed before his mother returns. She'll be bringing back a few of the ingredients they can't grow themselves, but those aren't needed now—witchers heal well enough on their own.

He turns back to the sleeping form on the bed and brings the salve over. The witcher''s bare chest rises and falls in rhythmic beats. With gentle hands, Geralt unwraps the cloth from his wounded shoulder, pleased to see it hadn't bled through in the night.

He dips his fingers in the salve and begins applying it to the slice he'd taken from the wyvern he'd been hunting. Murmuring softly, he feels the rush of his own magic heat the salve, activating its more subtle healing properties, encouraging the wound to close.

He looks up as those blue cat's eyes open, finding his own, and Geralt begins to say, "Relax, you're safe," but the words are stolen from him as the witcher's brow furrows.

"Geralt?" he says, full of confusion, and a strange pulse goes through his head, a flash of blue eyes—without slit pupils; he isn't a witcher, he's a bard—in his mind.

"Jaskier." Geralt tastes the name like a familiar treat on his tongue. "What the fuck."

Just then, the door bursts open, and Geralt turns to watch Yennefer—Yennefer?—storm into the room, purple eyes ablaze. Her dark hair is in a simple braid over her shoulder and she's dressed in a dark jacket and pants, the least refined he's ever seen her. Unobtrusive, even. Completely unlike her, but it's not even the strangest thing.

No, the strangest thing is the lute slung over her shoulder.

What the fuck.

"Who did you fuck?" she demands, eyes on Jaskier, arms crossed. She seems about ready to turn him into an eel, but—wildly enough—Geralt can't feel her chaos stirring the air. She doesn't have any.

Jaskier, for his part, holds up his own arms in a placating gesture, eyes wide. "Why are you assuming it's me who's done this? I sleep with married nobles whose spouses at best want me castrated!" He points a finger at Geralt, who is still standing stupefied at what's happening. "He's the one with the track record of sleeping with mages known for cursing people!"

Yen takes that in, and then Geralt finds himself the subject of that bright, burning gaze as she turns on him. "Who did you fuck?"

It's so weird, so unexpected, so wildly improbable, that Geralt has come right back around to a strange sort of peaceful acceptance. He makes a face at her and snarks, "You're the last person I slept with. Are you admitting this is your doing?"

He can see the way she tenses, the urge to lash out with magic to throw him out the window, but nothing happens other than her fingers tightening their grip on her arms. She tosses her head and looks away.

Jaskier, sitting up, looks between them, then keeps his gaze on Geralt—on his face, on his hair. "That is so weird," he murmurs, and Geralt lifts an eyebrow at him.

"What is?"

"Your—" He makes a vague gesture. "Your hair isn't white. It's strange."

Geralt looks down at himself, catching sight of dark hair from the corner of his eye. He picks some of it up, pulling it around to look at it. Hm.

"I didn't always have white hair," he says with a shrug. "That was the second round of mutations."

"Do I have white hair?" Jaskier asks, eyes bright as he reaches up to his own hair—still the same chocolate brown, if a bit longer, curling around his chin. "No. Only one round of mutations for me. I—"

A strangle look passes over his face, and he shares the look with Geralt. "I remember that much."

He remembers the Trials. He's lived the Trials. Geralt forcefully pushes those thoughts aside—nothing to be done about that now. "Hm."

A strained, awkward silence falls around them, broken only by the sound of birdsong outside. The sunlight creeps further into the room, lightening it bit by bit. Geralt realizes he still has the salve in his hand, then looks back at the wound on Jaskier's shoulder. It's healing even still, slowly closing up. He'll need an ointment to help prevent scarring and make sure he can use the arm properly in the future.

Memories tangle in his mind, ones of helping his mother tend to herbs and make poultices for the town butting up against ones of being mid-battle with all manner of beasts, potions coursing through his blood; days at market buying cloth and fruits warped around gentle hands soothing over wounds on his own skin and a warm, rich voice singing to him in gentle candlelight.

Well. That warm voice is still here at least, he thinks. Jaskier has swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. He looks up at Geralt, and it's so strange to see witcher's eyes in his sweet, soft face, marred only by a single scar through his brow.

His Cat school medallion hangs around his neck, and Geralt instinctively reaches up to his own throat, feeling a sudden sense of loss to realize he no longer has his own medallion. He swallows thickly and blinks away the sting behind his eyes.

"Let me finish patching you up," he finally says, breaking the quiet around them all. Yen seems to snap out of whatever thoughts she'd been in, sucking in a breath and turning to stalk out of the room without another word.

Jaskier watches her go before turning back to Geralt. "Well," he says with forced cheer. "We're really up shit creek with this, aren't we?"

Geralt hums in agreement and moves to finish tending to his wound. The salve is working its miracles, the rough edges of the claw slice not as red as they had been. Satisfied, he applies an ointment to encourage the muscle to relax and then brings over clean cloth, wrapping Jaskier's shoulder with light touches.

"Quite the turning of tables, hm?" Jaskier jokes weakly, and he offers Geralt a small smile. It slips away a moment later. "What happened, Geralt? What's going on?"

It's the question that's been rattling in his brain since Jaskier woke up and called his name when he shouldn't have known it. It shook loose memories of another life—his real life?—and now they need to be shifted through, examined carefully to determine what might be the cause of this.

Magic, no doubt. Chaos is the root of most problems, he thinks. He ties off the cloth and steps back from Jaskier, cleaning up his supplies almost automatically. It's easy, methodical, and he doesn't even think about it. It's his life, what he's always done.

Do witchers ever retire?

Yeah. When they slow and get killed.

"I don't know," he says eventually. "We need to—my memories are...jumbled. Overlapping between this life and—the other."

"Well, I certainly understand that," Jaskier says. Geralt turns and watches him stand and search for his shirt, pulling it on over his head. It still has the remnants of bloodstains in it, though Geralt remembers cleaning it himself during the night. He keeps his eyes on the scars covering Jaskier's skin until the shirt covers them.

Geralt inhales, a deep-seated reflex, and is once again filled with a sense of loss when the familiar scent of meadow grass and wildflowers isn't present, his senses too dull to pick them out from the faintly pungent aroma of the salve. Part of him says of course you can't smell him and another, deeper part of him says you should be able to smell him.

It's confusing, and he rubs his temples at the on-coming headache.

Jaskier's voice is gentle when he says, "Let's...get something to eat, yeah? We can sift through this mess after we've filled our bellies. I've got to get that wyvern head back to town, as well."

"Your reward," Geralt agrees, and that—that feels normal. Perhaps a bit backwards, since he's usually the one doing the hunting—No, you're not. You're a druid, you don't see battle like that—but normal.

Nothing about this is normal.

Jaskier offers him another smile—he smiles quite a bit for a witcher—and Geralt watches as he pointedly leaves his swords and armor against the wall where Yen had tossed them the night before, when he'd told her to undress her wounded companion so he could help.

What the actual fuck is going on here.

One thing at a time, he thinks to himself, and follows Jaskier.

#geraltfluffweek #the witcher #geraskier

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icyowl · 3 years

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A/B/O Worldbuilding

Every omegaverse author has their own spin on the idea, so here is mine! Feel free to use the ideas in your own writing. I really love world building as a whole as well as the omegaverse concept, so it kind of spiraled out of control ;).

These are just my own ideas so please don’t come after me if you don’t agree with something. I’m not asking anyone to use these ideas over their own.

It’s 9 pages so I’m putting the rest under a read more.

BIOLOGY:

What makes dynamic individuals different from others is the enlarged and highly developed limbic system. This part of the brain controls emotions, memory, and the endocrine and some of the olfactory reception. This is why they are so hormonal, experience deep emotional connections, and depend on smell for lots of information gathering and processing. It also explains why changes in hormones go along with changes in a person’s smell. The link to memory could mean that reincarnation may play a part, though researchers are still investigating.

Males are alphas or betas, females are betas or omegas. A person’s dynamic can be mutually exclusive to their personality, so you can have a really brutish and headstrong woman (such a personality does not always mean “alpha”), she’s just more likely to be a beta rather than an omega.

Both sexes have scent glands. Depending on the sex, the glands will be slightly different shapes, sizes, and in different locations (infographs at the end).

Males have canines and claws that extend during excitement or high emotion. If the canines extend far enough, they cause the gums around the teeth to split and bleed. The size, shape, and curvature of the fangs varies from person to person.

Omegas have canines and claws, but they are much smaller.

Rarely a person will have two sets of fangs, their canines and their lateral incisors. These people are always alphas.

Omegas have a “terror-mone” that is automatically emitted when she experiences extreme fear. It is very potent and far-traveling, and the idea is to alert others to come to her aid and overwhelm the opposing alpha’s senses until he backs off. People liken it to pouring bleach down their throat and in their eyes or getting pepper-sprayed.

Scent changes upon a person’s emotions.

Pheromones are emitted from scent glands. Pheromones are processed as a smell and therefore are a kind of scent, but are not directly linked with a person’s emotions. For example, even if an alpha is scared, he can produce comfort pheromones for those nearby.

Scent glands are very complex, high-value organs. They produce a person’s pheromones, scent, hold a mark, and are linked directly with a person’s mental and physical state because of the high density of nerve endings. Rather than check under the tongue or forehead for temperature, the most accurate way is to press the scent glands. Because of the nerve endings found there, they are sensitive to touch and overstimulation.

Scent glands sometimes need to be expressed in order to expel the build-up of pheromones in the blood. This is done via deep pressure or puncturing the skin with fangs or claws. The most effective place is the large scent gland on the neck but any scent gland will work. It is usually done by the significant other since the originator craves that physical intimacy and emotional closeness, but in their absence the person will do it themselves with their claws or by simply massaging the area.

If not expressed, the expired pheromones will build up in the blood and eventually cause anxiety, blurred vision, very high or low temperature, exposing canines and claws, intense trembling, and lethargy to the point of passing out. Essentially the person becomes very sick. The scent glands become puffy, sensitive, and the skin turns rosy as if sunburned.

Males produce venom from their canines and claws. Others of the same rank will be adversely affected by it, but those of the opposite rank are positively affected. The venom alphas produce can cause omegas to become catatonic if present in large enough quantities.

In extreme cases, alphas can go into R.I.L.A (Rut Induced Loss of Awareness), whereby they lose awareness of who they are, where they are, and what they should and shouldn't do. It’s a crazed trance-like state where reasoning is impossible and they act without inhibition.

Scenting is when one person wants to outwardly show everyone that someone is taken by them. It involves rubbing a person’s scent onto the skin of the other’s scent glands and body in general. This rubbing looks like nuzzling when done with the face, but can be done with any part of the body really. For two people to rub scent glands together is a very powerful experience. It strengthens bonds and dissuades outsiders from attempting to court one of them. An alpha’s desire to scent is stronger than an omegas, but they both do it. The desire to scent someone is an infallible sign that they have feelings for the person.

Marking is when an alpha intends to devote himself to that person for the rest of his life. The urge only develops when there is an extremely intimate bond between two people, and also involves emotional ties. Marks do fade and need to be replaced. There are creams that help the mark last longer, and people can buy an expensive contraption that has the dental impression of the alpha and can create a mark-like impression, but there is no scent of the alpha and it doesn’t last as long as the real thing. Nevertheless, people use it--on the daily, sometimes--when the alpha is gone for a long period of time. Omegas can mark too, but don’t really have an urge to do so. Marking can be done by the parents when the child is young and looking for comfort, but is done on the arm or wrist typically instead of the neck, as is typically used by romantic partners.

Marking isn’t for life, since marks need to be updated, but they do insinuate a very strong bond with the intentions of being long-term, since marks last about a year. You also feel that person’s emotional state while the mark is active, so you’re committing to that when you mark.

A mark may not last as long as normal if the omega is stressed. The increased adrenaline pulls the remnants of the alphas venom out of her system more quickly and some may not last six months given the right stressors.

Marking works because he gives her his venom, and she gives him her blood, so the omega doesn’t need to also mark the alpha, but sometimes will in the heat of the moment. Through scent glands the emotions of that person can be felt by the other, because scent glands contain high concentrations of nerve cells.

Even if an omega is already marked, the feeling of being marked is the same as the first time if it's by the same alpha.

If an omega is marked by another alpha while the previous mark is still strong, the omega will experience extreme pain as the two opposing venoms fight for dominance. It can take days, but one will always win. The venom of the alpha the omega is more attached to has a better chance of winning the battle, but it isn’t always certain.

Once a person has been marked (especially for the first time) the bond between the two is exceptionally fragile and should be carefully fostered by time spent together and physical contact.

Eyes dilate in response to many things. Typically it is a sign of physical relaxation in response to affection. It is also a major sign of trust, since severe dilation can cause the vision to blur. Dilation can be forced though, for instance when copious amounts of pheromones are in the air.

Preening refers to when a person is showing off to their significant other, and the physical change a person goes through when another person notices and/or appreciates their efforts. The face becomes flushed, they’re eyes may dilate, and muscles tighten in an effort to flex. Claws and fangs will lengthen in an effort to show physical fitness. Males preen to show their prowess and fitness to the female. Females focus on the dedication of a male to care for her needs, but canines are a symbol of the male’s ability to protect her, so when males preen, their canines drop and aren’t usually easy to retract.

Purring occurs when a person is either very content or wishes to make another person content. A person can talk while this is happening, but it can be difficult to understand. Omegas have a special frequency of purr that promotes healing and stress-relief.

There is a kind of deeper purring that only occurs between a pair of deeply bonded, typically romantically involved, individuals. It is a subconscious choice, so the first time a person does it, it usually comes as a surprise. Because it takes more muscles (the diaphragm, chest muscles, lungs, and larynx all work together) a person is more incapasitated than with normal purring, so it carries a connotation of deep trust in the receiver. Usually only alphas do this, but omegas can do it too. Because the muscles associated with talking are all occupied, it can make talking nearly impossible.

Glating (from the latin “gadio” for sword) is an intimidation tactic used between alphas so they may not have to resort to physical violence. It can also be used to prove an alpha’s rank to another so they are seen as a serious competitor/threat. This also affects a person’s ability to talk. It is an involuntary reaction like blinking, so trying to stop one’s self from doing it is a challenge. The term comes from the intense volume, causing it to reverberate around the surrounding area.

When omegas feel an overpowering urge to protect something they can become “theta”, where their reflexes and willpower skyrocket and they become little crazed animals

Children first present around 18/19 years of age, and experience their first heats/ruts about a year later. Over the span of a week or so they get extremely uncomfortable in their own skin. Their temperature rises and their gums become inflamed, tender, and swollen. Senses randomly sharpen before going back to normal. When they finally “tune”, it happens in a single instance. The body temperature peaks until they literally steam. The influx of emotions, senses, and hormones means they flee until they feel safe. It normally doesn’t last more than a couple hours. Typically, alphas will have an intense need to protect that which they consider part of their territory. It may be a person like a sibling, a girlfriend, or a parent, or it may be a location like their house or the nest of someone they love. Omegas feel insecure and unsafe and look to be with someone they feel safe with. Omegas won’t even want to leave that person’s arms.

Traumatic or transformative moments can force a person to change presentations. Sometimes the change is permanent, sometimes it lasts only a little while (weeks or months). They are referred to as “alternate alpha/omega/beta”.

Bunting is the term for a kind of head-butting, similar to what cats do, that works as a subtle yet deep sign of affection.

Moroi is a term for the sickness that overcomes a person’s body when intense negative emotions stem from one’s mate (i.e. rejection, cheating, fear of that person, falling out of love). It comes from the mythological term for a phantom ghost that leaves its grave to drain energy from the living. Side effects include extreme lethargy and phantom chest pains. The severity varies and the treatment is supportive care (rest, fluids). Some may even fall into a resting trance of sorts. It is very rare that a person dies, but sometimes the extreme phantom pains never go away.

A person’s smell changes depending on how they feel. It may be neutral (clean linens), happy, sad, angry, fearful, physical pain (copper or metallic), love, etc.

Every male possesses a knot.

Tonic immobility (aka ‘megaspace or the Rapture) is the term for how an omega becomes placid, calm, and compliant. It happens when lots of alpha pheromones act as a depressant to the brain by ‘bleeding out’ from the limbic system to the rest of the brain. It happens more easily when the alpha is someone she has great trust in. The depressant side-effect means the omega experiences an addicting calm-high. Alphas can experience this to an extent, but not with the same intensity. There is a problem with omegas experiencing tonic immobility and then, unable to have it again for whatever reason, turns to drugs and/or become prostitutes in an attempt to reach that high again.

Going feral is the layman's term for the very beginning stages of R.I.L.A.. It isn’t nearly as dangerous as the real thing but should certainly be recognized so that the alpha doesn’t drop further into his instincts. It’s how alphas prep their bodies for battle by flooding the system with testosterone and other chemicals. When glating doesn’t work, alphas may become feral in an effort to scare off another alpha before things become physical, but it generally happens any time an alpha senses an omega becoming upset with no sign of the situation getting any better. It also happens when he feels the need to go to an omega but is prevented from doing so. Lessening nearby stimuli is the solution to feralization, as well as scenting with the omega that he is worried about if she isn’t already with someone.

CUSTOMS AND SOCIETAL PRACTICES

If there are normal people, then many are struggling with where to place dynamic people. Are they a subspecies? A baser kind of human, or the next step in evolution?

Bites occur to the neck because the blood flow is large, fast, and goes directly into feeding the brain. This makes it the perfect spot to deposit the pheromones in venom. This can make the recipient a little loopy and very compliant, making consent problems an issue. Alphas have an especially hard time because consent is such a popular thing these days, but waiting and worrying about the omega and giving her the power makes him anxious and emotionally unhappy because it goes against his nature to hold back. Alphas gain purpose and satisfaction from knowing what their omega wants innately, and omegas crave an alpha that will take the lead and make them feel safe and cared for.

Touching another’s scent glands expresses a deep bond between two people. To touch one when the owner doesn’t want you to is a big taboo.

An alpha’s instinct is to look after, an omegas is to be looked after. For this reason it is especially heinous for an alpha to harass an omega, because it goes against their instinct. To deliberately do something that frightens an omega takes a great deal of willpower because the smell of fear an omega produces is strong enough to stop the assailant from continuing.

Bouts of extreme rage can happen if someone harms another’s mate.

A person’s mate is considered off-limits and to break that law is extremely terrible.

An adverse reaction to intense negative emotions can cause an omega to cope with the overwhelming empathy she feels by mentally shutting down. It is an emotional block from all the emotions she feels of others and the desire to have everyone go back to being happy.

Scenting is considered extremely intimate. To interrupt a couple when they are scenting is considered very embarrassing. Usually, it is incorporated into a couple’s daily routine.

If an alpha wants to show another alpha that an omega is taken, he will mark her in front of the other alpha.

In modern culture, the size and thinness/thickness of canines don’t usually matter, but heavily curved and long ones are considered conventionally attractive.

In a relationship, the first time a person purrs for the other is considered a big step in the relationship.

Dynamics (a.k.a. “Dynams” for the hip youngsters) is the name for the class that every student must complete. Like any history or science class, it is part of the class schedule and is taken throughout high school. It teaches students about dynamics, how to be an alpha/beta/omega, and what each class means for a person. History of scientific discoveries and important figures are also discussed as they relate to it.

When an omega feels safe enough to nest, that is cause for celebration. It is only celebrated between the couple, however. When a young person finishes tuning, their parents typically have some kind of celebration. Marking involves a celebration where anyone can be invited or involved (with all the relatives, or just the couple).

TECHNOLOGY

Suppressants nullify most all the side effects of heats and ruts. It takes an hour or two to take effect and should be taken once per day (uncommonly, people up the dose if they feel they need to for whatever reason). Suppressants are different for alphas and omegas, since one needs to calm down and one needs to be more awake and not so placid.

Rut gear involves a type of bite guard and metal nail caps that go over the fingers. This makes them safe for others and prevents damage to others and property.

“Scent stones” are special kinds of rock that absorb scent really well. They are worn for extended periods of time by a person before being given to the other, where they are worn against a scent gland in the wrist to provide comfort and protection. After a week or so of being worn by another person, the scent fades, at which point the stones are switched between the two people.

“Phero-bombs” are grenades of concentrated scent to subdue raging alpha(s)

Bouts of extreme protective instinct--brought on by an overwhelming urge to protect an injured or scared loved one may get bad enough to only be stopped by vials of an omega’s concentrated pheromones. If this is a known/recurring problem, vials are drawn in advance to be injected into the alpha to bring him out of it and calm him down if need be. There are special divisions of S.W.A.T teams to deal with this.

Omegas can wear a type of scarf that is rigid on the inside and won’t release unless the scent stones in it detect enough feel-good pheromones from the omega.

RUTS AND HEATS

Males experience ruts, females experience heats (no matter the presentation)

Heats/ruts happen 4 times per year

Heats are characterized by muscle weakness, muscle cramps, and/or skittish behavior. Ruts are characterized by irritability, increased reflexes/senses, heightened physical strength, and/or short temper. Both sides experience varying degrees of restlessness. Alphas will often spend the nights unable to sleep, watching over the omega as the protective instincts take over, they’re canines also grow and can’t retract. Omegas’ scent glands will swell and become tender, and will sleep a lot. When omegas are awake, they fidget and crave company. The sense of touch becomes hyperactive, making every surface prickly and uncomfortable. Below is a chart to help better visualize the contrasts and similarities.

NESTING

Nesting occurs when an omega feels 100% at ease in the presence of an alpha. It requires the subconscious to be perfectly content as well, so it takes a long time for an omega to get to the point. When it does happen, it counts as a major step and is normally followed by celebration.

It’s a big deal if the omega verbally shares her nest with her alpha. Either by offering for him to enter or saying “our nest” can basically cause an alpha to fall to his knees.

When an alpha wants his omega to nest, or thinks she might do soon, or while she is nesting, he will go about trying to prove he can protect and care for her. This involves doting on her, showing her affection, bringing things for the nest, or otherwise showing his fitness. The omega will carefully consider his offerings for her nest. If she doesn’t take any of his offerings, it means he didn’t do a good enough job proving himself to her. For this reason, having an omega view and scrutinize his offerings is very stressful for the alpha.

Below is a chart for the different ways alphas and omegas behave.

Scent gland locations (in blue):

Female (17 total):

Male (12 total):

#omegaverse #A/B/O verse #a/b/o

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ladyshiranui · 4 years

Text

shiranui x chizuru iii

psst~ link to A03 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/26677699

Upon arrival, the devastated Goryokaku leaves Chizuru Yukimura all alone and questioning her future. Lucky for her, 'a fellow demon at her disposal' means she doesn't have to come to terms with the woes of grief by herself.

words: 2272

༶•⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧•༶

It was among the most havoc-wrecked sights of the war. Splinters of wood scattered across the soil like seeds of devastation. Canon fire had ceased, yet the deafening blasts still throbbed in her eardrums. The sky was blue, a cruel irony for a day that called for grey clouds. Lingering smoke of gunpowder and battle filled her lungs, gripping her heart in grief.

The flag of Makoto in her fingertips, tattered and smeared in the blood of the fallen, decidedly marked the end of an era. The faces of her comrades from the last number of years, their kindness and hospitality, their undying loyalty and unwavering conviction— It all came to her in a flooding nostalgia. She was overwhelmed, trying to surface the tides of sorrow to replace her stolen breath.

It was no thanks to Lord Kazama who’d made his departure as soon as the shores of Hamamatsu had been reached that the demon girl was left alone. Typical of the entitled egoist to have an icy heart until the journey’s end. If not for Shiranui’s inquisitiveness, and unshakable doubt of Kazama’s supposed altruism, he wouldn’t have followed.

After seeing Kazama refuse to disembark the docked boat while Chizuru ran ahead, he’d revealed himself. With his hands on his hips, he asked, “What, you’re not going after her? After all this time you’re gonna let her go? Just like that?”

Chizuru had long disappeared among the trees, the then active canons shaking the earth with their mighty bellows, but Kazama’s gaze stood fixed on her fleeting trail. “She is no longer of my concern. It’s clear she’s more vainly focussed on those shogunate dogs than saving her own bloodline. She would not make a suitable wife.”

Shiranui scoffed. “Can’t blame the girl for not being that into you. I wouldn’t be if I was stalked and kidnapped by some pretentious demon lord.”

Kazama’s absence of rebuttal was dissatisfying. “The Yukimura clan is dead. She has decided her own end and I will not associate myself with it any longer,” he averred.

“So what do you call travelling halfway across the country for her?”

“Pity, if you must label it. Not whatever silly selfless ambition you’ve conjured in that head of yours. I am not without dignity.”

The rolling of his eyes implied the second demon lord felt otherwise. “After all that’s happened and you’re still as egotistical as you ever were. You’ll never change, Kazama.”

“For what reason would I need to? I live for no-one but myself. It’s the half-witted female demon who needs to change. Her mind has been poisoned living as an equal among the humans.”

“Cut her some slack, will you? It’s not like she had much of a choice.” Kazama’s having an answer to everything was boiling Shiranui’s blood. The heat of his rising rage trickled into his tone, a low growl in the back of his throat when he opened his mouth. “Dignity, my ass-- You only care about yourself. She could have already been blown to bits and you’d feel nothing.”

A reaction was finally elicited with the chieftain’s sharp turn and piercing gaze. Shiranui met his challenge, standing convicted by his words and refusing to look away. Frantic shouts of warning as gunfire and cannonballs flew overhead had the lingering passengers scrambling for safety and collapsing to the ground, yet the demons were unfazed by the waging war of man. The deafening chaos underpinned the last spoken sentence.

“You...” Kazama snarled. His hand hovered above the hilt of his sword, his opposer watching him warily with his own hand close to his gun, but the former relaxed. Instead of hurling every threat under the sun, Shiranui questioned his look of amusement. “It seems Chizuru Yukimura is not the only foolish one here,” he smirked with a tilted chin.

“What the hell are you going on about?”

“First that spear-wielding red-head, and now--” he tauntingly laughed-- “You’ve gone soft, Shiranui. I expected more from the chief of your own clan. You’re a walking mockery of a demon.”

The pistol was drawn and fired in impromptu haste. A tuft of blonde hair bounced as a silver bullet flew directly beneath it, leaving no injury but an already fading red mark of heat on Kazama’s cheekbone. Shiranui’s nostrils flared with a sudden breathlessness, the derogatory mention of the Shinsengumi’s 10th Division captain igniting his anger.

His tightening grip dusted his knuckles white. While there was almost always a snarky response with Shiranui, his mouth stayed a thin line with his jaw clenched.

Kazama’s brow twitched. “As I thought,” he hummed. Sailors loudly declared their departure, rowboats retreating back into the ocean. The demon retook his place, turning his back to Shiranui with a dismissive wave. “Do what you want with that wench. The end of the Yukimura line should have an audience, after all.”

It took everything in Shiranui to not place a bullet in the back of Kazama’s head. Such an easy target; one pull of the trigger is all it would take. Looking at him alone made his stomach churn with a dangerous, deadly vexation. The wish to be as far away from him as possible propelled him to turn around and trudge through the sandy shores. He didn’t know where he was going, only the faint tug of an unseen thread luring him through the trees and turmoil.

And then, he reached Goryokaku.

Centre to the battered shelter, crumpled in the dirt, was her. Shiranui knew she was close to the men of the Shinsengumi, but not so close to mourn so greatly. He’d never fancied himself getting close to humans for this very reason, but he couldn’t deny how leaden his heart had become at Harada’s own fall. Sitting by his side, the sparkle of heroism that never left his eyes dissipating into a glassy haze, the last heave of breath leaving his body, his last words an unfinished sentence-- as the sole witness it had done more to him than he would have liked to admit. In a way that escaped even him, seeing Chizuru in her state lifted an inkling of the weighty sorrow in his chest. It was as though she cried not only for the two of them, but all others who believed in whom had met their end.

Shiranui was glad his arm’s length relationship with humans spared him from a pain he didn’t want to know what felt like. He didn’t have the heart to go up to her right away. Her grief was personal, something that no-one could ever understand. An audience, Kazama said. His inference reeked of voyeurism, and seeing her express the rawest form of emotional vulnerability angered him all over again. The churning of his stomach made him ill, and he couldn’t stand by anymore.

One foot after the other, fallen leaves and burnt wood crunching beneath his boots, Shiranui approached her. He didn’t know what he was doing, or what he should do. He couldn’t say he’d been confronted with such grief before and was left in the unknown how to handle the delicate situation. His feet didn’t stop, though. They knew where he needed to be, so he let them carry him to her side.

His shadow cast across her racking body, her sobs muffled in the tattered flag of truth she gripped so desperately. Her cries sounded strangled, like a bird in a cage desperate to be set free. Even in a moment so emotionally unbearable, she held onto the smallest inkling of composure she had left. An odd feeling extending to his hand arose, and stretched it out toward her. Slowly it lowered, resting atop of Chizuru’s head. The violent force of her anguish travelled through to him, resurfacing feelings he’d buried what seemed so long ago.

The flood gates opened, the bird was free. Sobs turned to a wailing lament, its echo carried through the leaves of the trees that shielded them from prying eyes. She doubled over, her head resting against the soil, and Shiranui compensated by lowering himself to his knees. The churning in his stomach morphed into the twisting of his heart. His pride begged him to stand back up, to keep himself in check, but he too bowed his head in dolour.

“They put up one hell of a fight, that’s for sure…” he murmured, the right words difficult to muster.

Chizuru’s cries gradually softened. Deep breaths swayed her frame under the demon lord’s gentle touch. Shiranui pulled himself away and stood to his feet, surprised by how heavy he’d suddenly felt.

“You can’t stay here forever.” He scrutinised the scene before them. Looking at her while speaking truthfully felt too guilting. Funny; he’d never felt like that before. “There’s bound to be imperialists still hanging around somewhere, and I wouldn’t count on their mercy towards you and your affiliation with the Shinsengumi.”

He waited for a response, but no such words left Chizuru’s lips. Side-eyeing her, her face lifted from the flag, revealing only her red, drenched and tired eyes. She looked so frail. He would’ve thought her to be otherwise sickly. There was no life in her, as though her spirit died with the fallen captains across the country. The look in her eyes was the very same he’d left behind in Ueno.

“So? What’ll you do?” he spoke again. “I can guarantee Kazama won’t come after you anymore and, well…” he hesitated, “you don’t have a place to go back to. You’re free.”

Sniffles escaped her while her back straightened upright. Her muffled, feeble voice eked out the reply, “It never felt like I wasn’t. I just wanted to be with them… always… They made me feel like I was human, like I was allowed to have a place with them.” She brought the flag to her running eyes, wiping her tears where no strong, gentle hand ever would again.

“You say that like being a demon means the end of the world. I can tell you-- It’s not.” Shiranui cast his gaze to the blue sky. The sun was lowering by then, a golden blush blanketing the remnant chaos in an ironic beauty. Everything made him think of him, from the red of the maple to the hue of the sunset matching his irises. He’d thought he’d let it go already, but perhaps he was wrong. “I can also say that Harada never thought bad of you for being one, either. It was almost closer to praise whenever he would talk about it. It got kind of annoying.”

“Harada did?”

He sighed, her oblivion to these things truly astounding him. “I’m pretty sure he would’ve told you a bunch of times himself, but yeah… He did.”

“Then--” she turned herself towards Shiranui, her eyes pleading for all the answers to her questions-- “why did they never make me feel like I was a demon? Why did it feel like I was always one of them?”

“Because you were. You spent five years of your life with them. It goes without saying you’d feel like a human being among humans.” He folded his arms, wrestling her doubts. “I don’t think it was that they pretended you were a human, but more like they accepted you for you; a demon. Maybe you should try it, too.”

Chizuru’s shoulders were weighed by defeat and sunk. “I wouldn’t know how to do that.”

“Well, consider yourself lucky to have a fellow demon at your disposal.”

“Who?”

Shiranui stared at her dubiously, cocking his brow with his mouth slack-jawed. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that.”

With a spin on his heel he turned away from the wreckage, his scarf dancing in the breeze. It was elegant, rising and falling like suspended ocean waves. Chizuru couldn’t help but stare, its tattered edges sparking curiosity. She found herself looking between it and the similarly affected flag in her hands. Her thoughts meandered, wondering if that green scarf in any way shared the devastation the flag of truth represented. A question begged to be asked, but she held her tongue. She would save it for another day.

“You coming or what?” Shiranui beckoned with a look over his shoulder.

Startled by her own daze she turned away. The feeling in her legs had returned to her and she sluggishly picked herself up. The uniform generously granted to her by the captains was smeared with all kinds of blemishes but her appearance couldn’t be a further concern. Her legs wobbled underneath her, clutching the flag tightly in her hands. This sacred keepsake, this sole memento she had of the fiercest group of men she’d ever come to know-- she swore she would never part with it.

Shiranui’s back grew further the longer she waited, so she jogged to his side. She said nothing, her eyes cast upon the ground while her feet dragged through the earth.

“Boats should arrive at Hamamatsu before long to retrieve the left-over soldiers. We’ll wait around until we can board one back to Edo.”

“What will you do?” Chizuru asked.

“Well, what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure… I hadn’t thought about it very much.”

“Guess that goes for me too, then.”

His confusing response willed her to look at him questioningly. Seeing her greatly confused expression, Shiranui smirked. So oblivious. He’d never know what Harada saw in her, yet a deeply rooted curiosity fancied him to find out.

“But--” she croaked before his hand ruffled her hair.

“Relax, won’t you?” He smirked as they walked away from the wreckage side by side. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

༶•⛧┈♛ ♛┈⛧•༶ part i | part ii | part iii

#I haven't written anything in a while #but felt a sudden spark of inspo today #writing #shiranui kyo #shiranui x chizuru #hakuoki #hakuouki #hurt/comfort

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tategamis · 3 years

Text

these are just some of the old short writings i liked from my previous tategamis, i wanted to compile them here : )

the first 2 are based on an au idea i had, that while humans die, constellations don’t, and there’s been generations of bladers who take up beys passed down from ancestors. so the beys remember rivalries from constellations from across generations, and that carries over to their bladers over time. and beys don’t directly communicate with words to their bladers, they use mainly sounds like ringing, and it’s up to the bladers to understand what they mean.

( 1 ) “In every life of its Blader, the rivalry is never lost.”

He’s only felt the ringing this badly once before.

It’s not a time that he’d like to think about, but Ginga can’t help letting the particular memory resurface.

The moment Pegasus had landed in his palm, just after his father had launched the Bey to him, right before the man had been buried beneath rubble.

Ginga almost physically remembers how he’d been overwhelmed by some sudden surge of energy—that’s the only way that he can coherently manage describing what he’d experienced then. The feeling of his entire body clenching in on itself, his muscles tightening, his head aching with the increasingly shrill ringing… It’d taken him everything to hurry out of the collapsing, lava-ridden cavern without stumbling and accidentally sending himself to his own demise.

In the midst of his recollections and trying to stifle the ringing in his head, Ginga grimaces. He wills Pegasus to calm down for a moment and reassures the spirit that everything’s all right. They’ll find out whoever is causing this, and it’ll be fine.

It won’t be the same outcome like when Pegasus and L-Drago had met back then, in his hometown.

There’s a sharp trill that runs through Ginga’s mind, and he grits his teeth. The ringing returns, but this time, it’s a tad subdued, and Ginga, now having more time to really listen to Pegasus, feels that this is a bit of a different message from the one that he’d gotten about L-Drago.

For what seems like the millionth time since he had started to, and finally bonded with, Storm Pegasus fully, Ginga thinks about one of the other famous legends—besides that of the Star Fragments—from Kouma Village.

The legend about bonding between Blader and Bey.

“If the Blader and their Bey are truly compatible, they will bond. You will hear your Bey’s emotions and feel as it feels, and your Bey will hear your emotions and feel as you feel.”

“But how is that possible?” Ginga had wondered aloud, peering at his father. “How can I hear my Bey’s emotions?”

Directing his gaze to his son, the man smiled. “Oh, you will understand one day, Ginga.”

“What’s it like?” Inquisitive and unwilling to drop the subject, the young boy had continued to prod.

Laughing, his father looked up to the night sky, filled with speckles of white, again. “It’s good to know you want to learn more. There is an ancient legend passed down here in Kouma Village that tells us about the experience of Blader and Bey bonding.”

He clears his throat and speaks, “‘The stars are seemingly endless in the sky, which is full of extraordinary things. Humans took great wonder in the realm above, seeing the stars that glittered in the midnight, and rendering from them, with a passionate creativity, the concept of constellations. Seeing the patterns that the stars created, and complementing it with the creation of the first Bey from a Star Fragment, humans linked the two. Humans believed that if Beys were born of stars, and the stars formed constellations in the sky, there was a powerful connection between them.

“‘Over time, it was true. The constellations in the sky became a part of the Beys in spectacular flashes of light, and although humans found it strange that powerful beings from the constellations were then alive in their Beys, they believed they had some purpose for doing so. Perhaps it was to spread Beyblade to others, or it was to protect the world from some kind of sinister force. Sensing that the latter would pose a troublesome problem, the first Blader bonded with the first Bey from the Star Fragment from Kouma Village. It was then discovered that through an unbelievably selective process of trust and dedication, if the Blader and their Bey are truly compatible, they will bond. The Blader will hear their Bey’s emotions and feel as it feels, and their Bey will hear their emotions and feel as they feel. They will develop, together, a true Blader’s Spirit.

“‘And so, over time, as more and more Bladers have come and gone, but Beys have remained the same, it is also said that when Blader and Bey have truly bonded, and when they come across another pair of an incredible bond, there may be some great reckoning between them. Whether that is a long-lasting rivalry since the beginning of Beyblade, or an unbreakable friendship across different eras of time, both Bladers and Beys will feel it, and they will be drawn to one another.’”

“But how do they know?” Ginga scrunched his brows together.

His father chuckled. “The legend says they can feel it in many different ways, but most Bladers feel it as a kind of ringing in their minds, unlike the typical humming of the voice of their Beys.”

It’d definitely taken some getting used to—having another presence in his mind, but not necessarily ever saying anything, ever making any noise, unless something caught its attention. Ginga lets a smile form on his face. It’s a presence that’s become his friend over the past year. And from what Ginga can tell from his friend, is that it doesn’t feel frightened.

Instead, Pegasus almost seems… uncontainable. Practically rearing to go, Ginga concludes. It’s clear that the spirit understands something that he doesn’t—something about whoever’s a part of that Face Hunter gang—and that’s what makes Ginga somewhat uncomfortable. Is it a mix of excitement and anxiety and heated old feelings that is coursing through Pegasus now? Ginga regrets that he’s not fully certain.

For a split second, he wonders if he shouldn’t have accepted these Face Hunters’ challenge, but then he’s met with another fierce trill from Pegasus, and he abandons the idea with a slight wobble in his step. Obviously, this person with the Bey that Pegasus is reacting to is important, and Ginga can’t help wondering if they could be another rival like Ryuuga. That’s enough to make him still support his choice of accepting their blatantly one-sided fight. But only one-sided through the lens of numbers.

Even if they’re a group, and he’s only got himself and Pegasus, Ginga knows they won’t lose. He grins.

“What’re you smiling about?”

Ginga notices that the purple-haired Face Hunter with the beanie pulled over his head is scowling at him.

“You’re not gonna make it out of this battle the winner, you know!”

Ginga knows better than to rile him up further, and he shakes his head. “We’ll see.”

The ringing in his head has only grown stronger, but Ginga does well in taking it in stride. He should try to get used to it, even if he doesn’t experience it often, because he doesn’t want an excruciating headache every time it does.

Continuing to follow the group of Face Hunters, Ginga steps into a construction site, the beginnings of the building’s metal framework rising high into the air.

He notes that there are many more of the gang members skulking about or actively leering at him on the unfinished structure. Huh, he wonders what kind of battle they have planned.

No matter, Pegasus is up for anything.

There’s a brief dulling in the ringing, and Ginga withholds a chuckle. Pegasus agrees.

Somehow, Ginga ends up center stage, it seems. He doesn’t really pay much attention to whatever is being said to him about how this is a “One Hundred Bey Battle,” as the ringing in his head returns full force, sending all other noises into the background, and guiding him where to look.

Ginga looks up, and up, and then there.

It’s him.

The second that Ginga sees the boy laying on a hanging crossbeam, he knows it’s him.

And Ginga’s pretty sure that the other adolescent, with his keen pale blue gaze trained only onto Ginga’s form, knows there’s something up as well.

Suddenly, there are Beys everywhere, and ah, seems as if he’d missed their launches. Ginga pushes back the ringing and turns his attention to the matter before him.

“I accept. Whether it’s a hundred Bladers or a thousand.”

As he attempts to attune himself with the whims of Pegasus, he ignores the Face Hunters’ heckling. He hopes the ringing will stop, but he doesn’t think it will.

Ginga can faintly hear Kenta—he wonders how the younger Blader had found him, but doesn’t question it for now—yelling from beside him to not go through with this awful match. As what seems to be popular belief, the fight apparently is heavily skewed in favor of the Face Hunters, and it nearly spells disaster for him and Pegasus.

However, he knows better.

“Remember Kenta, a Bey’s attack power doesn’t come from its attack power or its stamina, and it doesn’t matter how many there are!” Ginga declares resolutely, remaining still as he feels inside himself Pegasus’s spirit, running rampant with enthusiasm.

It’s at this moment that teen lounging above sees something else to confirm his suspicions about this Ginga Hagane in front of him. As if the mysterious and obnoxious ringing in his mind isn’t enough.

He’s glowing with an odd, sapphire aura.

The Lion spirit dwelling within his Bey growls, and the Face Hunter’s leader can feel it.

Ginga Hagane, huh?

The moment he launches Pegasus and calls its full name, the ringing changes.

As Ginga lets his Bey tear through the hundred others, he can hear Pegasus singing. It’s a strange, light—but still loud—humming in the back of his mind that he’s felt in many instances before, though this time, it’s much more intense. Ginga can now confirm that Pegasus is excited. Pegasus isn’t at all scared of the old rival it seems to have in whatever Bey that that guy possesses.

In fact, Ginga’s sure that Pegasus is delighted, by the way his chest seems to loosen, and his hands seem to be tingling.

Only seconds tick by before Pegasus is throwing the Beys into a spiral of ashen blue as it continues to pick up speed. Then, Pegasus is tossing them out of its tornado, and Ginga can feel the taunt that his Bey is sending out to the other, egging it on to reveal itself and fight.

Ginga can barely hear the clattering of Beys over the ringing in his head. He watches as they tumble down to the ground around him, and he looks up, a grin on his face as he catches Pegasus.

“Like I said, the difference between winning and losing is the Blader’s Spirit.”

He watches as the teen with the piercing blue eyes finally stands.

“Ginga Hagane, Storm Pegasus…” His adversary grins as well. “You feel it too, huh?”

Ginga’s not surprised that those are the other boy’s first words, and he nods his head. What does surprise him is that the ringing in his mind begins to pulse out, and Ginga thanks Pegasus silently for giving him respite. Perhaps Pegasus figures that it’s important to hear what this rival has to say.

“At last, it seems an opponent worthy of me and my Rock Leone has made himself known!” proclaims the Face Hunter’s leader with a smirk as he holds his Bey forward.

It catches the light in a strange way that Ginga knows isn’t natural.

“Who are you?” Ginga asks, and he can feel Pegasus nearly answering the question for him. Buzzing, and then ringing, the two alternate, and Ginga gently reminds his Bey to settle down for a second.

“I’m Kyouya Tategami,” the spiky, green-haired teen introduces haughtily, and Ginga swears he sees an emerald aura flaring to life around him. “This should be interesting.”

Pegasus ignores his suggestion, the ringing grows louder, and Ginga can feel his Bey’s spirit tugging in his mind and energizing him. Its behavior screams to him that this is a challenge it won’t let go, that it’s been searching and searching for this rival, and it’s realized that ever since it’d become Ginga’s partner, it’d known this day would come. In every life of its Blader, the rivalry is never lost.

Ginga holds Pegasus tightly in his fist.

Interesting, indeed.

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

( 2 ) Once more, we meet again.

Kyouya doesn’t expect to meet anyone competent here, but this is the only way he can go to the World Championships, so he toughs it out. Chances are, the Bladers who’ll make the Savannah team with him won’t be terrible and irredeemable. They just won’t be anywhere near his level. That’s fine. He’ll be pulling most of the weight anyway, since it’s his goal to reach Ginga and be the one to defeat him.

He’s not going to get his hopes up about his teammates. There’d be no chance to be “disappointed but not surprised,” then.

That’s why he is surprised when the ringing starts in the back of his mind, loud and unrelenting.

Kyouya mumbles a curse, but he’s careful not to let it show that his head is almost being ripped in half from inside out. His lips tighten into a frown, as Kyouya finds it’s the easiest expression to maintain when this happens. Shakily raising a hand over his face, Kyouya points his gaze downwards, his bangs hiding the pain flashing through his eyes.

Sometimes, he really hates when Leone does this.

The green-haired Blader pushes back against his Bey’s spirit as he tells it that yes, yes, there is someone here with a Bey that connects with him. That Leone has had ties to this other spirit before. Yes, he understands, now please stop. The ringing dulls for a moment, but the stinging continues to pulse in the back of his mind every now and then. He knows that this Bey wasn’t an enemy of his Leone before, as the pain associated with a foe is much different. It’s searing. Gouging, almost. At least this one… This one is a bit more tolerable.

Enduring it well, Kyouya focuses on the fact that Leone has identified someone with a Bey who’s worthy of his attention.

He’ll see about that, though.

There’s another noise underneath the now dulled ringing, though. It’s more like a soft buzzing, as if Leone’s softly growling, but not because danger has been detected. Kyouya wonders about it. Perhaps another Bey spirit? [1] Clearly not belonging to someone with as much perceived strength to make his head almost split, but enough to be identified by Leone. Kyouya supposes that he’ll keep that notion in the back of his mind for now—quite literally and figuratively.

After the selection tournament rules—which Kyouya had only half-listened to—had been declared, he, along with the other Bladers, walk to their respective stadiums. He readies his launcher, and when the countdown reaches its end, he’s prepared to clean out the competition in seconds flat. He doesn’t want to spend more time than needed on boring preliminaries.

The second that everyone launches, Kyouya grimaces. Leone is reacting even more to that Bey, even though it’s not in their stadium. Ugh. Just because it’s spinning and active now.

Overriding the pain with sheer willpower, Kyouya scowls and yells, “Leone!”

He smirks when he sees Leone’s tornadoes juggle his adversaries’ Beys around mercilessly. In an instant, the moment the thought crosses his mind, the tornadoes break, and Beys are raining down from the sky. Clatter, clatter, clatter…

And that’s that, Kyouya thinks as Leone hops back into his hand and sends a surge of energy throughout his body. Still telling him about that other Bey, huh.

Kyouya ascends the steps to the announcer’s platform where the winner’s bracelets are up for retrieval. He snaps one around his wrist and observes the other two matches. The vantage point is much better up here for seeing who the owner of the Bey is, and as Kyouya’s gaze sweeps over the blue stadium, he knows.

It’s the Blader with the orange and brown hair.

It’s him.

Leone sends out a stream of incoherent buzzing into Kyouya’s mind when the Blader’s Bey finishes off all its opponents, and Kyouya is certain that it’s him even more.

He stares up at Kyouya, and when they make eye contact, a harsh trill zaps through Kyouya’s mind, and no more confirmation is needed.

The second Blader to claim victory makes his way to where Kyouya is, and he takes a bracelet for himself. Kyouya lets silence brew between them before he crosses his arms and decides to say something.

“Ally? Rival?” Kyouya grunts out first, as he glances sidelong at the Blader standing beside him. He’s pretty sure that his new teammate has felt the same things he has. There’d be no way that his Bey had been silent throughout this whole competition.

The shorter teen laughs, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. His laughter is warm and musical, clearly indicating his genuine amusement. On the other hand, Kyouya doesn’t find anything about this all that entertaining.

The stranger spends a good amount of time chuckling, and Kyouya is impatient to be enlightened on why what he’d said was so funny.

“Why not both? It’s what Horuseus has been telling me,” replies the stranger, finally, tilting his head to the side. “More specifically, ‘friend.’”

“Horuseus?” Probably his Bey, figures Kyouya. And then he hones in on the last word, “friend.” Kyouya almost repeats the word. It leaves a bitter expression on his face, even though he hadn’t even said it. Just thinking about it irritates him. The other Blader senses Kyouya’s guarded annoyance, and he chuckles.

“He isn’t the most approachable, is he?” is how the Egyptian teen understands Horuseus’ humming in his mind. He thinks to himself that this outlander isn’t, but he’ll do his best to get along with him. After all, they’re teammates.

“I’m Nile, by the way,” the Horuseus Blader introduces himself, ignoring the fact that he has yet to hear a comment about their Beys’ association.

“Kyouya” is the prompt and sharp response he gets, and Nile smiles thinly. He can tell that Kyouya is an outlander. He’s not judging by looks, since that can get you nowhere, but rather by aura.

Horuseus tells him that there’s something different about Kyouya, and Nile can’t help agreeing.

This time, Leone sends a wave of soft humming through Kyouya’s mind. The green-haired Blader almost imagines it as his Lion prodding him with a paw playfully, an attempt to subtly make known its feelings about interacting with this rediscovered “friend” in Nile’s Bey. It certainly seems what Nile had said about their Bey spirits’ past is true, Kyouya admits a bit wryly as he watches the last battle royale play out. If Leone had let its guard down so easily around this “Horuseus,” then Kyouya thinks that perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to have a teammate like Nile. However, trust would still have to be built and earned, no matter what Leone tells him, Kyouya reaffirms.

“I look forward to going to the World Championships with you, then, Kyouya,” Nile informs him politely. Thanks to Horuseus and his own judgment, he can sense that Kyouya has the drive and desire to win, a limitless resolve, and brazen determination. Merged with the nearly unparalleled synergy between him and his Bey’s spirit, it’s all overwhelmingly noticeable. Perhaps just as strong as his with Horuseus.

“You mean ‘winning the World Championships,’” corrects Kyouya without missing a beat. “I have no interest in losing. Especially not to a certain someone.”

Nile blinks back his surprise and then shakes his head, a laugh bubbling from his throat. “Of course. I should have known that you don’t think small, from what Horuseus is telling me about your Bey.”

“I don’t.” The humming grows louder, and he sighs.

Kyouya tries his hardest to push away the inkling of the idea struggling to take front and center of his mind. He tries and tries, but knowing that Leone is fully backing the notion too, Kyouya lets it into his thoughts.

Perhaps it would be all right to become “friends” with Nile.

As much as Kyouya doesn’t want to think about it, he realizes, much to his chagrin,

he’d like to.

[1]: Scorpio‼ DEMURE!

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

( 3 ) Reliance.

Mei-Mei shuffled out of her room, blanket pulled over her shoulders as she stumbled around in the darkness of Beylin Temple. A small paper bag was clutched in one of her hands as she rested her other against the wall to guide her way to the kitchen. As much as she hadn’t wanted to get up, she knew that she probably should. She’d awoken with a sore throat, and even though she hated to admit it, she was sick. Mei-Mei knew what that meant: She’d have to face dire consequences in skipping training tomorrow, or go to training and perform poorly.

Either meant that the boys would make fun of her, and Mei-Mei hated it.

Even though she’d proven herself as a strong Blader, one of the best at the temple, the same stupid boys would always try to pick fights with her and make her look bad no matter what.

It really was annoying since most of the other boys were quite fond of her after she’d earned her place at Beylin Temple.

She sighed. She didn’t have time to think about that. She just had to get to the kitchen, make herself her medicine that she’d brought from home, and hopefully feel better once she’d gone back to sleep.

After wrapping her blanket around her tighter, Mei-Mei filled a kettle with some water and set it on the stove to boil. She took a seat at one of the dining tables and rested a hand against her face as she blinked sleepily. She really was tired. It was only truly hitting her now, but she’d definitely overworked herself during the first few months that she’d been here.

It wasn’t her fault, really, though. All the training, having to prove herself, the annoying other recruits, waking up so early…

Mei-Mei hadn’t even noticed that she’d drifted off into slumber until someone was lightly tapping her hand.

“Huh? What?” She looked around confusedly before seeing that Da Xiang was standing on the other side of the table, a fond expression on his face.

“I hadn’t expected to see you here, up so late, Mei-Mei,” he observed, his head cocked to the side in mild surprise.

She looked at him flatly. “Oh, I was just trying to make my medicine… I got sick, or something.”

“I see, that’s too bad.” Da Xiang moved back towards the stove and reached into a cupboard for a mug. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Mei-Mei wasn’t really watching him, her mind still a bit foggy from how tired she was, and the fact that she very well could be running a fever.

Da Xiang had already poured the hot water from the kettle into the cup and opened the bag of medicine that had been on the counter top. He hoped that the teal-haired Blader didn’t mind, but noticing that she was nodding off again, he figured that she wouldn’t. The older teen pulled a spoon from one of the drawers near him and set it in the mug as he examined the medicine and read the handwritten characters on the bag. Ah. He was familiar with this.

Popping open one of the small pouches, he poured its contents into the mug and began to stir it, before adding a little bit of cool water to it. He watched as the water turned brown, and he smiled. It reminded him of what his mother used to make him all the time when he was sick.

“You should take more time for yourself, go to sleep and take a day off tomorrow,” Da Xiang suggested, still mixing the herbal drink as he turned towards Mei-Mei, the cup in his hand.

She seemed to have snapped awake, glowering.

“Well, it’s either that I don’t go to training and everybody makes fun of me, or I go and then I fall flat on my face because I’m sick, and everybody still makes fun of me,” she grumbled, folding her arms and tugging her blanket around her closer.

Merely smiling at the younger girl, Da Xiang placed the mug on the table and pushed it towards her. “Here.”

Mei-Mei hadn’t even realized that he’d been preparing her medicine for her, so when he set it down in front of her, she blinked up at him in slow acknowledgement. “Oh. Thanks.”

She dreaded drinking the medicine, for its taste was foul and its texture was not pleasing at all, but Mei-Mei took a large gulp of it anyway before gasping for air and stating disgustedly, “I hate this stuff.”

Da Xiang chuckled softly before sitting across from her. “It is quite awful, isn’t it? But it’s good for you, so drink up.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” replied the girl with a scowl, not directed at him though. “You sound like my old grandma.”

This time, Da Xiang laughed quite loudly before remembering that everybody else was asleep and hushing himself instantly. He murmured quietly, “Well, that’s the first time I’ve had someone tell me that.”

Mei-Mei was in the middle of taking another sip of her medicine when Da Xiang said, seemingly out of nowhere, “You have another option, you know.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” She’d set down her cup after grimacing obnoxiously, and then tilted her head as she stared at the Temple’s top Blader.

“You said that everybody will make fun of you if you skip training or if you go to it and do badly,” he brought up, resting a hand on his chin.

“Oh. Yeah. Well, it’s true,” Mei-Mei said with a deadpan. She stared at the brown medicine with a frown.

Da Xiang shook his head. “I say that you take time to rest and take of yourself for the next few days. No one will tease you over those days and once you’re back.”

“I’d like to see how that’d happen,” she answered without missing a beat, her tone anything but optimistic.

“I will make sure of it. Everybody gets sick, and it’s nothing to be worried about.” Da Xiang stared seriously at Mei-Mei, his emerald eyes sharp and cool. However, the girl could see that there was a hard look to them, and she hid her shock.

She blinked before bringing up the mug to her lips so that it’d block her face, and that Da Xiang couldn’t see how she was embarrassed. No one had really stood up for her before; she’d have to do all the standing up for herself, well, by herself.

“Thanks…” mumbled Mei-Mei into the cup, her voice echoing into the ceramic slightly. She finished off the rest of her medicine as Da Xiang laughed softly at her reaction.

“It’s no problem. Besides, even with a few days more of training than you, most of those guys out there are still long behind you in skill,” he pointed out, taking the mug from her hand once she’d placed it down again.

He stood up to wash it, and Mei-Mei was about to protest before he turned to her and recommended gently, but firmly, “You’d better head off to sleep. Don’t worry about this, I’ll clean up.”

Mei-Mei got to her feet and tucked in her chair before inclining her head slightly and saying, “Thanks, again, Da Xiang.”

Da Xiang looked back at her and smiled thinly, addressing her by name telling her that it was no problem.

She was about to turn out of the kitchen when she’d realized that he hadn’t called her by name, but… She thought about it again, and recognizing that he’d changed the tone on his words, she understood that he’d called her “little sister.”

Mei-Mei grinned, and as she left the room, she said loudly enough for Da Xiang to hear, “Thanks, big bro.”

Da Xiang’s smile widened a little, and he waved shortly at her. “No problem.”

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

( 4 ) To consume.

Zeo stared blankly at the wall in front of him, his knees drawn up to his chest. He had fallen deep in thought, about the same thing he’d been poring over for the past few weeks. Angrily, he clutched his knees and glowered, and his brows pinched together when he was reminded just why he was here again.

It was all Masamune’s fault.

Digging his fingers into his unruly tresses, Zeo screamed, frustrated.

No… He seemed beyond mere frustration… He was incensed, a wild rage lashing out inside him as he screamed again.

He didn’t care if someone could hear him beyond his room’s walls. No one else really cared about him here. No one else wanted to know how he was feeling. And Zeo didn’t care about them either.

He was only here for Toby, and because Masamune also didn’t care about them. He and Toby, his best friends. Zeo gritted his teeth and snarled.

Training in the day seemed to get his mind off the maddening thought, for the most part, as he was preoccupied with bearing the Arrangements and harsh exercises. Zeo admitted that he did think about why he needed to be the best Blader, but when he was alone, in his room, in the quiet night…

He always ended up coming back to it again—letting his fury boil as he thought about Masamune running off to fight Ginga.

As if that was supposed to be helpful for Toby’s recovery, Zeo scoffed to himself. He’s just completely selfish. Always saying he’ll be number one, all by himself, huh?!

Zeo began smashing his fist against the wall, over and over, uncaring towards any bruises that would surely splotch all over his knuckles tomorrow.

He only continued to slam his hand against the wall when he realized that he was holding back annoying tears, a burning behind his eyes. He wasn’t sad at all, no. He was just beyond pissed. And with no one to turn to, no one to listen to him, no one to understand why he was so angry… Zeo stopped the angry tears from coming out at all, and he closed his eyes.

He’d already cried once, when he spent his first night at Hades Incorporated’s training facility, when his rage had overwhelmed him. Zeo remembered it clearly. The first thing he’d thought about when he’d fallen onto his bed was that he didn’t know what the hell was going on with his body when he’d been shoved into an Arrangement pod. He’d never been so terrified before, and it had hurt more than anything he’d ever experienced—

Zeo had stopped that thought and lifted his head slowly as realization dawned on him. No. What had hurt more than anything he’d ever experienced…

Masamune betraying him.

That had hurt him more than anything he’d ever experienced.

Zeo had let the tears fall from the corners of his eyes when everything came crashing down around him. He was stuck in this place he knew nothing about, and he’d practically signed himself up to be some kind of experiment. He had no friends here. Damian and Jack were far from being his friends, and in all honesty, Zeo got a bad feeling from the two of them. So, he was alone, his rage threatening to consume him whenever he was awake, and he was hurting.

But even though he was feeling all of this, Zeo told himself that he had to endure it. This was for Toby. It didn’t matter what happened to himself if Toby was all right. That was it. A plus would even be that he would have the chance to crush Masamune if he ever saw him again, since he’d become much stronger here.

Opening his eyes, Zeo scowled.

Oh, yes. He would become “Number One,” and he’d show Masamune who was the true winner.

A wicked smile played upon his lips as he laughed shortly to himself, his fist idly hitting the wall in a slow rhythm, the action more subconscious than anything.

“Abandoning me and Toby like that, huh, Masamune, it’s just like you… Just like you…” Zeo repeated out loud, his teal eyes dead despite the rage that bubbled within his soul.

Zeo had long gotten used to the fact that this room was nothing like his own, where there was a pretty window that always filtered in soft moonlight to help him fall asleep.

This room was completely different. There was no window, and practically no light even slipped in from beneath the door’s crack. He’d first felt trapped when he had stepped inside, but now…

Zeo was alone in the darkness, but he was perfectly all right with it. He wasn’t trapped, no, he was just fine…

This was the way to help Toby, the only way…

And, with another short laugh, Zeo murmured to himself, “It won’t be long.”

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

( 5 ) I think I know you, and I do, don’t I?

“Time is such a funny thing, isn’t it, Ginga?”

Ginga looks over to his right, and he can faintly see the silhouette of Hyouma’s sprawled out form beside him. It’s dark, but the lack of light pollution in Kouma Village lets the moonlight and faint starshine guide Ginga’s eyes to his friend.

Before the Pegasus Blader has a chance to ask what Hyouma means, his childhood friend chuckles. “It feels like we were just here. Another day of playing in the fields gone by, and then laying down in the grass at night and stargazing. It’s like things haven’t changed since when we were younger.”

“Yeah.”

Ginga closes his eyes and thinks back to those times. He vividly remembers the two of them excitedly playing tag among the tall grasses dotted with pastel pinks, blues, yellows, and oranges from the blooming wildflowers. In the midst of his recollections, though, he can sense that Hyouma isn’t done speaking, and he’s right, for in a few a seconds, Hyouma continues, “But I guess I’m just reminiscing too much. Things have changed, and the year’s almost over.”

Ginga feels like he heard a good amount of bitterness in that. He scrunches his brows together as he opens his eyes and lets them wander from brightest star to the dimmest, his fingers absently brushing through the cool grass around him. He wants to ask what Hyouma means by, “Things have changed,” but he can’t bring himself to do it.

He knows what he means. The Nemesis Crisis. The world really hadn’t recovered from that yet. He’s not sure it ever will.

“As much as it feels like this is the same as it was when we were younger, it isn’t the same, is it?” Hyouma whispers, closing his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s not.” Ginga smiles wryly, his lips barely lifting.

He really does understand what Hyouma means when he’s talking like this,

…But then Hyouma says something Ginga doesn’t really understand.

“I’m not sure this world can really offer you much anymore, with how you’ve been clearing every single challenge coming your way,” chuckles Hyouma softly, and this time, for sure, Ginga can detect a hint of bitterness in his friend’s voice.

The chilly night breeze washes over the both of them.

Ginga’s eyes soften, and a thin smile appears on his face.

“What are you talking about, Hyouma?”

The Aries Blader’s eyes snap open. He can’t read Ginga’s tone. That doesn’t happen often. He can’t tell if it’s indignant, if it’s dubious, if it’s shocked, or if it’s amused. Hyouma’s lips curl downward slightly. He doesn’t know what to say. So he just keeps his gaze pointed up at the starry night sky instead and hopes that Ginga will perhaps clarify the ambiguity of his response.

Hyouma hears Ginga laugh, and he relaxes. Ah. Ginga’s playful. Amused. He had expected him to say something somewhat nostalgic and somewhat wistful at some point, huh.

Hyouma’s kind of glad that it’s too dark for Ginga to see him.

“There are always things that this world has to offer that make me happy that I’m here. My friends, Beyblade, the little things in life…” The red-haired boy laughs again and nudges Hyouma with his shoulder. “Like spending time with you, Hyouma! My best friend. I don’t need a huge challenge just to make me happy.”

Hyouma lays there, stunned, for a moment, as he finally peers over at Ginga. There’s that signature, bright grin on his face that Hyouma can barely recognize in the darkness, but all the same, he knows that smile when he sees it.

“That’s just like you, Ginga…” murmurs the boy with periwinkle hair, a hand raised toward the sky as he idly connects some stars with his fingers.

“Well, I can only be me, right?” Ginga muses, slightly teasing as he tucks his hands behind his head. “And you can only be you!”

“Yeah.” Hyouma smiles. He drops his arm back to his side.

“I’m glad that we’re us!”

Hyouma looks over at Ginga, who’s looking back at him.

“Yeah… Me too, Ginga.”

There’s a silence between them, but then Hyouma speaks once more,

“And just like you, you’ll leave again.”

That gets Ginga to sit upright and stare down at Hyouma, who has his eyes closed. Ginga doesn’t know what to say. The disjointed direction their conversation has suddenly taken veers Ginga straight into a swirl of mist. What is Hyouma thinking?

Hyouma opens his eyes, and Ginga expects them to be—wants them to be—sharp, furious, and defensive, but instead… They’re sad.

Ginga brings his knees up to his chest, his shoes tearing at some of the grass beneath him.

He hadn’t really expected Hyouma to look mad at all. He just wants him to be. It’s easier to have Hyouma be mad at him than for him to be sad that he’d probably leave for Metal City again. Or somewhere else in the world, and not with Hyouma, who’s bound to guard Kouma Village.

But, Hyouma’s right.

“I’m sorry, Hyouma. But Ryuuga had to be stopped…” Ginga mumbles, crossing his arms over his knees and digging his chin into the crook. “I’m sorry, Hyouma.”

“You didn’t even tell me you were leaving,” answers Hyouma immediately, his voice gentle, but sounding more defeated than firm.

Ginga doesn’t reply.

The wind blows by.

Hyouma’s right.

“I’m sorry, Hyouma. I should have told you,” Ginga finally tells his friend as he apologizes for a third time. He feels so guilty. Hyouma’s never so forward with his emotions, and that makes this even worse. He looks away from Hyouma, who’s now sitting up and gazing over at him.

“I know,” Hyouma responds shortly, his eyes now focusing on the sky as he tilts his head back.

Another pause of silence.

Ginga can feel his brows pinching together. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Hyouma at all. But he knows he had. He’d known when he’d seen him the first time after descending the summit of Mount Hagane, with all his other friends nearby.

“I know you’ll have more things to do out there in the world, and I’ll be here.” Hyouma hasn’t looked away from the stars. “But… you’ll still be my best friend, Ginga. I understand you better than anyone else.”

Ginga lifts his head, and then he meets Hyouma’s eyes.

There’s no hint of anger in them, and Ginga feels like it’s okay to smile. He understands Hyouma better than anyone else, too, and Hyouma knows that too.

“And you’ll always be my best friend, Hyouma.”

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

( 6 ) Golden light.

“Just about finished.”

Bao pinched the folds of the last dumpling in his hands, an unsuspecting smile curling onto his lips. Having always been rather fond of spending his time in the kitchen now, Bao deemed the event of preparing breakfast quite relaxing. Perhaps the subtle warmth slowly filling his heart wasn’t solely from the joy he found whenever he was cooking, but because he was cooking for more than a just a few. For the first time in many, many years. The auburn-haired teen admitted that he could get used to this, despite how early it was in the morning. It was peaceful, and quite a change of pace from the years he’d spent wandering along with the other Beylin Fist Bladers. Yeah, he could get used to this. The first pink and tangerine wash of dawn hadn’t yet appeared over the darkened horizon, but Bao loved the tranquil and the soft reminders of home both inside and outside the temple walls.

Edges of burnt gold crinkled as his subconscious grin only grew wider, and he chuckled to himself as he examined the spread of food he’d prepared. Quite the party he’d be feeding today, as was routine. They wouldn’t show up for a little while, so there was still time for him to cook the rest of breakfast.

He had a few skillets ready as he finished gathering the dumplings together to cook, and he confidently surveyed the rest of the food he’d set out. There was a huge pot of rice porridge dabbed with a delicate balance of green onions and preserved duck eggs, rolls of youtiao set beside it as a complement. Large bowls of wheat noodles sat next to the plates of steamed custard buns that he’d also readied since yesterday. Leftover tofu pudding from the night before also joined the ranks of food, and Bao nodded to himself. Everything looked good.

The quiet sizzling of the dumplings filled the kitchen as Bao placed them on the skillets, his motions smooth and practiced. This was almost as rewarding as winning a Bey Battle, Bao thought, slightly entertained by the notion. Nothing of the sort would have ever crossed his mind when he had first joined Beylin Temple and when he’d departed from it. He really had changed. Of course he was working to be an even stronger Blader than before, but sometimes it was the little things like these that pleased him the most. Making the most use of his capabilities would never grow tiresome, and if this suited him as a person as well, then he didn’t mind. In fact, he welcomed it. The domesticity of it brought him back to a time when he hadn’t been consumed by vengeance, and he could be the young man he was.

Bao thought that he was lucky. He was really, really lucky. Everything was back to normal now. He didn’t have to worry as he had before.

He was in the middle of transferring all of the cooked dumplings onto serving platters when a familiar voice floated into the room.

“Oh man, tell me you didn’t—you made custard buns, Bao? Those are like, my absolute favorite!”

Ah. The only thing he had to worry about was Zhou Xing and Mei-Mei’s black holes of stomachs.

The hurried footsteps told Bao that Zhou Xing had dashed over to the food in question, and a characteristic laugh followed from the Virgo Blader. “Heeey, these are cute! I like the little pink and white petals you’ve got on them too. You’ve got an eye for taste and style, Mr. Chef.”

Bao prided himself on being collected and cool for the most part, with not much fraying his nerves. However, it was the nickname and such blatant flattery, or perhaps such meaningful praise—Bao still couldn’t quite pinpoint the flamboyant superstar’s compliments sometimes—that sent the faintest of blushes to his cheeks and pushed ripples throughout the calm pool of his composure. He wasn’t often the center of attention, that was for sure. Being brought into the spotlight for something other than a sound play during a battle was something that Bao hadn’t quite gotten used to yet. It was typically only a commendation from Aguma that made him childishly giddy inside and almost brought his carefully sculpted façade of indifference to ruin. But, here he was, the flutter of satisfaction and happiness touching his heart, a smile edging out his previously serious expression.

“I thought it would be nice to have them today. Spring is just around the corner.” Bao kept his voice level as he walked toward the rows of dining tables around the kitchen corner, a dish of dumplings in his hands.

“Look at you, being all one with the aesthetic,” teased Zhou Xing as he brought over a bowl of noodles to the same table.

Bao merely snorted in an attempt to brush aside his qualms about how to reply to another compliment.

More Bladers began filing into the kitchen, variously sized clouds of sleep hanging over their heads. They exchanged greetings with the others already there, and Bao could only smile when he saw them carrying the rest of the food out of the kitchen.

Without even having to say anything, Chi-yun was beside Bao in the kitchen, prepping a kettle of boiling water for tea.

“Which?” The Lacerta Blader hadn’t bothered to look at Bao, but the latter knew that Chi-yun was debating between a canister of high-mountain tea and simple green.

It was like this every morning, somehow a little ritual between them.

Bao hummed as he readied another kettle for steeping the tea leaves. “Green, today.”

“Mm.”

The clinking of the tin made Bao stare fondly at his own can in his grasp, and with a brightness in his eyes even he wasn’t aware of, he suggested, “Let’s add some rose petals in there, too.”

“Okay.”

Neither of them had to turn to one another to know that they were both smiling.

When the water was hot enough, Bao and Chi-yun headed toward the others, teapots in hand. The rest of the Bladers were already eating, and as was the norm, chatter filled the room. Zhou Xing was always surprisingly excitable in the morning, perhaps a product of his dedication to Blading born from the promise at the last World Championships.

“Always stirring up quite a ruckus, even for so early in the morning, aren’t you?” mused Bao with a gentle smile, his tone exasperated but the teasing light in his eyes revealing his true feelings.

Zhou Xing shrugged and snapped up a steamed custard bun between his chopsticks, the hasty action only seeming to emphasize the crux of his accompanying words, “Well, it’s hard not to when there’s such good food around! Your cooking puts everyone else’s to shame, my man.”

Ah. Bao would confess only to himself that he couldn’t quite handle Zhou Xing’s flamboyant, but open-hearted nature. He hadn’t really encountered anyone like him before, and even though he had been at Beylin Temple for months, he was still working on how to approach the relationship with him. Perhaps his uncertainty stemmed from the obvious observation that they were quite differing in personalities.

“…Thank you,” Bao finally pronounced, his voice low as he let the smile win out. “Don’t exhaust your words, Zhou Xing; you sing my praises much too often.”

With a huff, the brunette waved his chopsticks—bun and all—at the Crown Blader. “Stiff as always, Bao. Compliments are meant to be given out, you know.”

Bao swore that he heard a chuckle from behind him. He pushed down the rosy heat budding on his face when he could almost confirm that Aguma and Da Xiang were not so silently laughing at him.

“And hey, it’s kinda hard not to, when you get good food like this. I mean, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.” Zhou Xing nodded, affirming his assumption before stuffing the custard bun into his mouth.

“I agree! You’re the top-tier chef, Bao!” piped up Mei-Mei from the seat across from Zhou Xing. Enthusiastically, she stacked a sizeable pile of dumplings onto her plate and began plowing through them.

Absently wringing his apron, Bao felt his smile turn a bit lopsided at the next bout of acclamations that was gradually taking over the majority of conversations in the room. Part of him knew that there was nothing to be so embarrassed about, for the people he was surrounded by were his friends. But another part of him felt uneasy, unsure of how to reciprocate the kindness of their words properly. After all, it wasn’t like he was the most pronounced with his emotions or quite keen on letting them know how he felt. It was a defense mechanism he’d long set in place from his earliest days, and it was going to take a lot to break it down. He was safe here, but his subconscious couldn’t let go of the past so easily. He could get used to making breakfast in peace every morning, but he was still working on getting used to the love that came along with it.

“Now, now, I know Bao best, and he’s just a tad bit embarrassed by all your compliments. Give him some time, all right?” The half-joking, but half-serious remark from Aguma startled Bao out of his reverie, and he almost turned on his friend with a sharp, reprimanding utterance of his name.

Surprisingly, Aguma had acclimated well to the new environment of Beylin Temple, and much more quickly than Bao had. The last time Bao had seen Aguma act in such a carefree and lively manner had been when they were both still very young, and he wondered why he couldn’t bring himself to do the same. Was it a matter of principle, or was it because of the reservations he couldn’t let go of? The lock around his feelings jangled almost noiselessly, but Bao heard it anyway. A reminder of all of this that Bao knew he had to overcome. Cooking for everyone was one of the first steps he’d taken to shattering such limitations—to integrate himself into their lives once more. It was still tough, though. Bao discovered that as much as he enjoyed being reassured by the glow of friendship radiating all around him, he was at a loss at times, too.

“Chi-yun was quite the same in the past,” Da Xiang commented with a knowing grin. “It’s no wonder that the two of them get along so well.”

From his place beside their leader, the blue-haired boy sent a peeved look in the Kirin Blader’s direction. A flat declaration of his name followed, “Da Xiang.”

The playful banter among them eased him out from behind his wall, and Bao couldn’t help smiling behind his hand. It was true that he and Chi-yun had been the most receptive to one another upon the remerging of Beylin Fist with the main temple. He couldn’t deny that at all.

And so, Bao also couldn’t help letting the mildly snarky remark from pushing past his lips, “Meddling seniors seem to be both our problems as well.”

A roar of laughter chorused from the room, and Bao forced his expression to remain neutral at the unexpected, animated response. Chi-yun cracked a smirk at that, and Bao took a seat beside him as Da Xiang and Aguma exchanged a glance.

“Cheeky juniors seem to be both our problems as well,” retorted Aguma as he reached forward to lighty flick Bao in the forehead.

“Nghk—!” Bao reeled back in stunted shock before shaking his head and letting a laugh get the best of him. “…Sure.”

Aguma returned to his bowl of rice porridge with a chuckle, and Da Xiang laughed as well. Chi-yun looked less than amused, but even so, mirth twinkled in his coral eyes.

And in Bao’s eyes, there was such a tenderness unknown to him that he feared he would never be able to explain it. As he bit into the fluffy steamed bun, he wasn’t sure that he ever would have to.

All it would take was for his friends to look at the raw emotion in his eyes in that moment, and they would understand. For now, as long as he still was traversing the winding path of his emotions, this was all right. Even if he wasn’t inclined to speak about those very emotions, Bao was sure that his eyes would never convey anything but the truth of his feelings to his friends.

That was enough, and Bao could say that he was undeniably happy, with or without words.

#metal fight beyblade #oh this was a time.

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