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alicanta77 · 3 years

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Finale: Glitter and Gold

Pairing: princess!y/n x prince!Chenle

Themes: royalty au, fluff, angst

Warnings: arranged marriage, violence, war, character death, injury, descriptions of injury and blood

Words: 11.5k

Inspiration: BTS - Blood, Sweat and Tears - orchestral cover

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Finale

tag list: @hiqhkey @jaeshatshop @lebrookestore @honei-n @cheonsa1004 @haechans-sunflower @crispy-chan @rvse-hvvck @chezzontop

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Note: This is it! The final chapter of Royal Blooded! I want to say a MASSIVE thank you to everyone who has read and supported this story. The first chapter of this story was published before I had 100 followers on here, and now, as we celebrate the finale, we have over 1500. I have grown so much throughout the 9 months of my life that I spent creating this world, and every word of support, every message, every ask about it means so much to me. I’m a little emotional that it’s ending because of how long I spent on it and how much I put into it, but I am so excited to look forwards at everything that’s coming next. Thank you for the love on this, and enjoy the finale!

Felix xox

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~ 6 months later ~

You held your head high as you walked towards the throne room. You had your main servant walking behind you and two guards escorting you on either side. Your shoes made small tapping noises on the stone floor with every step you took and your clothes and hair gently flowed in time to the repetitive movement. Your lady in waiting was smoothing out your dress as you moved, trying to make everything look perfect. You paused as she quickly adjusted one final piece of hair before giving you a loving smile and hug and wishing you well.

Your chest felt tight with nerves and you took a deep breath. Your dress was beautiful, the most expensive one you owned and you were made up to look more beautiful than you think you ever had before. Your mother had bought this dress for you and, as soon as you had seen it your jaw had dropped, the scarlet red colour complimented your skin tone perfectly and the gold details that swirled around to form the shape of dragons were captivating.

You knew that a dress like this would only be wearable on a day like today, the most important day of your life.

You approached the grand doors, nodding at the two knights guarding the entrance with a smile, both of whom bowed back before moving their spears and opening the grand doors for you.

The throne room appeared in all its glory. The metal chandelier hung from the ceiling, dangling above the engraved stone floors that were currently stood on by the entire court. The court and knights of your kingdom were all in neat rows on the left of the room, framed by the sculpted columns that ran up the walls, engraved with detailed patterns. On the right side of the great hall stood another court entirely. One which you had met once and had recently had the pleasure of getting to know better. Their red and gold emblems were proudly on display on their cloaks, letting everyone who saw them know that they were the court of the royal kingdom of Shanghai.

You remembered doing this over a year and a half ago, only then you had been meeting Chenle for the first time. If someone had told you just how much he would come to mean to you in such a short amount of time, you would never have believed them. You had thought it would take you years to fall for the boy you were arranged to marry, but life is funny like that. You look back now and you don’t see him as the boy you were arranged to love, but rather the boy you were destined to.

However, even with all this going on around you, you couldn’t take your eyes off the boy waiting for you at the end of the hall. He too was dressed in his finest clothes, the dark green and silver colours of your kingdom decorating his outfit. As you walked down the hall, dressed in the representative colours of Shanghai, his face split into the largest smile you had ever seen.

His eyes never left your face as you moved closer to him with every step, in fact, it took all of Chenle’s self restraint not to run towards you right there and then. You finally reached the front and Chenle offered a hand to help you up the few steps.

You accepted, your hands slotting together as if they were jigsaw pieces. You lifted your dress with your left hand, making sure not to step on it and accidentally rip it or, god forbid, face plant. You would never recover from the embarrassment if that happened.

Luckily you made it up the three stairs without any problems, but now you faced the challenge of speaking. You knew Chenle was going to speak first so you had time to mentally prepare yourself, but deep down you felt an overwhelming sense of serenity. You knew that you would be fine. You had been taking public speaking classes since you were young and you’d addressed more people than this in one go before. Just as with the stairs, you knew that nothing would happen, but your mind went to the worst case scenario. You just wanted this day to be perfect, after all, you were only doing it once.

You and Chenle tore your eyes away from each other as you turned your attention to the front, where your childhood tutor, now a well respected member of the court and keeper of the archives, was about to speak.

“We are gathered here today for the wedding and coronation of Prince Chenle and Princess y/n.”

~ flashback ~

“Will you marry me?”

The words left Chenle’s lips and it was as if they kick started your brain into action. You threw yourself at him, his arms catching you as the two of you hit the ground in a heap.

“Yes.” You cried repeatedly. “Yes, with all my heart.”

Chenle rolled the two of you over so that you were lying on top of him, the laughter that was emitting from the two of you radiated pure happiness. You sat up, kneeling next to Chenle as he gently grabbed your hand.

He held you so softly, his thumb gently caressing the back of your palm as he slipped the diamond onto your finger. A second passed in which the two of you stared at the jewel, the symbol of a silent promise to love each other until the end of time.

You looked up at him, eyes shining and his hands came up to cup your face. He pulled you in and you kissed him with everything you had.

You’d lost count of the amount of time you’d kissed Chenle, but this was different. This held so much more to it. It was as if it was a kiss that made all the other kisses on the planet seem pathetic. Love exploded between the two of you, your love, the kind of love that would last a lifetime.

You both pulled away, the need to breath breaking the captivating spell that Chenle had cast on you with that kiss. He leant down, resting his forehead on yours as you both closed your eyes and enjoyed being so close to the one you adored.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, afraid that if his words were any louder they would shatter the perfect moment.

“I love you more.” You whispered back, grinning as you heard Chenle chuckle quietly.

He pulled his forehead off yours only to replace it with his lips for a soft kiss.

“That’s not possible.”

~ flashback ends ~

The great hall was decorated with banners of both your kingdom and Shanghai. Ever since the engagement announcement, the castle had been in full on planning mode, preparing everything for this day to be perfect. There had been banquets, feasts and balls thrown in your honour, with gifts from kingdoms far and wide coming to the two of you in congratulations.

Word had been sent to Chenle’s family in Shanghai and they had announced that they would be coming to visit for the wedding. You had never felt happier than when you saw the smile on Chenle’s face when he was told he was going to see his family. His parents and three older brothers, Kun, Sicheng and Renjun, were all leaving Shanghai to attend, and they were planning on staying with you for a couple of days either side of the monumental event.

However, the good news about Chenle’s family came with bad news about yours. Your mother was frail, ill and barely eating anymore. She spent her days drowning herself in work so she didn’t have to focus on the cold empty space in her bed beside her. For the past 6 months she had worked diligently and done everything she could, but one night she came into your bedroom and quietly asked to speak to you and Chenle.

She told you that she didn’t think she could do it anymore, she didn’t think she could rule the kingdom. She explained that she had only managed to take on all the duties because she had had her husband, your father, by her side. But he wasn’t here anymore, and she couldn’t go on with the burden, it was simply too much for her to bear.

After a long and heavy conversation, your mother announced the next morning that she would soon be stepping down from ruling, and allowing you and Chenle to ascend to the thrones. She addressed her people, admitting to them that she was unfit to govern them and that she felt it was unfair to keep herself on the throne and deny them a better pair of rulers. She then proceeded to inform them that the wedding would be combined with the coronation so that you would be married and crowned on the same day.

You would be lying if you said that this hadn’t had an effect on you. You were already feeling the stress of your title, and you had been working closely with a group of advisors and your mother to introduce you to the world of being Queen. But, still, you were terrified. What if you weren’t a good ruler? What if you made a bad choice for your people? What if this affects your relationship with Chenle? You wouldn’t even get a chance to get used to being married before the role of King and Queen would be thrust upon you. But you forced yourself to ignore the growing voice in your head that filled your being with doubt. You had been preparing for this day your entire life, and now that it was here, you refused to let down those people who had helped you along the way. You would do your best, and make them proud.

So here you were. Standing next to the man you loved, about to promise your everything to him forever. Even though you had been filled to the brim with nerves before entering, as soon as you had locked eyes with Chenle, all of that had melted away. You knew that, as long as you had him by your side, the two of you could handle anything.

While the wedding was only attended to by family and members of the court, the celebrations ran throughout the entire kingdom, with all your people overjoyed at the beautiful ceremony.

You listened as the officiant went through the traditional wedding procedure, both you and Chenle replying with the rehearsed statements. His hand never left yours and you couldn’t express how relieved you were that it didn’t. The physical reassurance that he was there grounded you.

You turned to face each other, holding your joined hands out for the gold ribbon to be wrapped around them. The officiant continued to speak, his words about unity and strength reminding you of your father’s speech when Chenle first arrived with his family. So many things about this day were taking you back to the beginning, and the similarities were making you miss your father more than anything.

You felt a small squeeze on your hand and looked into Chenle’s soft brown eyes. He gave you a nod, one so minute that it would be unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t you. You repeated the move to him, another reassurance that the two of you were there for each other, no matter what.

The officiant moved on to the vows, Chenle going first before you followed, saying the words you had recently memorised. Due to you both being royals, you couldn’t write personal vows and you had to stick to the scripture, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t mean every word. You meant it with your whole body when you promised to stand by him for as long as you lived, to look after him as best you could, and to support and love him no matter what. And from the look in your soon to be husband’s face, he meant every word he said too.

“Chenle, do you take y/n as your wife?”

“I do.” He spoke, sincerity strong in his voice and you didn’t bother to fight the smile that grew across your face at his certain words. The only thing you didn’t know, was that Chenle had never been so sure of anything in his life.

“Y/n, do you take Chenle as your husband?”

“I do.” You repeated Chenle’s answer, your voice just as steady and sure as his had been, your mindset reflecting that as well.

You were still scared out of your mind at what was going to happen after today, but the thought of having Chenle by your side for the rest of your life, that didn’t scare you at all. No, that thought was the most comforting thing on the planet.

And that thought was just about to become your reality.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Chenle wasted absolutely no time, moving forwards before the officiant had even finished speaking, gently grabbing your face and pulling you in for a kiss. You smiled into the kiss, your hands coming up to rest on his waist.

The kiss wasn’t long, the awareness that your families and courts were watching you not quite having left your mind. But it held everything, the past years that you had known each other, your entire journey together into who you were now was told in the few seconds that Chenle’s lips pressed against yours. The clapping and cheers brought the two of you fully back to reality as you pulled back. You leaned back in for an even shorter kiss, officially sealing the eternal bond between the two of you.

“I love you.” You whispered, Chenle chuckling.

“That was my line.” You opened your eyes to look at him and he smiled down at you. “But I love you too.”

You both pulled away, as the claps gradually died down and the ceremony began to progress. The two of you barely had time to register the giant step you had just taken before you were being instructed to kneel in front of the thrones and the crowns were held above your head.

You were sure that it had taken longer than you realised, but you were so wrapped up in the feeling of loving Chenle, and how much he loved you, that it felt as though not even thirty seconds had passed.

And yet, here you were, repeating yet another set of responses that you had been taught, promising to protect and fairly govern the people, vowing to follow the example set by those who ruled before you and do whatever you can to live according to the traditions and customs of your kingdom.

As the final vows left both your lips, you felt the gold crown land on your head, the heaviness of the metal it was made out of, and the title it represent, weighing you down already.

“I crown you King Chenle. I crown you Queen y/n.”

With those words, you pulled your legs underneath you and stood, turning around to face the people of your courts. Chenle reached for your hand once again, this time you interlinked your fingers, intertwining your hands as a physical sign of the link between your kingdoms.

The throne room erupted in cheers and clapping once again, this time to an almost deafening volume. You and Chenle began to walk back down the middle, waving and smiling at those closest to you as you passed. You walked all the way out of the throne room and straight onto the balcony, ready to greet your people as their official rulers.

---

You stood just outside the balcony together waiting for the words that would signal the two of you to step outside. You hadn’t spoken to anyone yet, just waiting for you final duties of the day so that you could celebrate with your friends and families.

“Did you feel as though that went really quickly?” Chenle asked out of nowhere, making you jump slightly at the sudden noise before your eyes widened in agreement.

“It did! Leading up to the ceremony felt like an eternity, but then as soon as the ceremony began, it went in a flash. I’m not sure I was even there for half of it.” You muttered the last part, but Chenle’s sharp hearing caught your words none the less and he chuckled whilst muttering out a softer reply.

“Me neither. It kind of feels as though it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Exactly.” You didn’t realise how nervous you had still been until the realisation that you were both feeling the same way. You both fell into silence, it was comfortable but it still felt as though there was a lot that the two of you were leaving unsaid.

“You know-” Chenle paused his words to swallow his nerves, he hadn’t been this nervous around since the two of you met. “I’m starting to remember why I was so nervous for this marriage when I met you.”

You looked at him, the short distance between you suddenly feeling like a million miles.

“Me too.” You admitted softly. “It doesn’t matter how long we’ve known each other, there’s still a pressure for this marriage to be successful and for our kingdom to flourish.”

Chenle whispered a quiet “Yeah”, showing you that he was feeling exactly the same way.

“Chenle?” His eyes shot up from his feet to yours and you could see the nerves bubbling in them. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek and you took a step forward to grab on of the hands that he had behind his back. “Listen to me, I thought you weren’t nervous at all. Honestly, I thought I was the only one freaking out.”

“Trust me you weren’t.” Chenle said dryly, moving slightly so that he was facing you full on.

“I know that now, but I didn’t when I really needed to.”

“What are you saying?” Chenle asked, his brows creasing with worry at your soft words. He knew you only spoke with this tone of voice when you had something important to say to him.

“I’m saying we need to communicate. We need to tell each other the truth, talk about how we feel, both the good things, and the bad. We’re in this together, and that means we don’t need to be perfect for each other. We just need to be there.”

Chenle nodded, a small smile finally making it’s way onto his face as he pulled you closer by the hand that was already in his. His arms came to wrap around your shoulders and you fell into his arms for a hug. You felt his scent overcome you and drown your senses and you let out a deep sigh, feeling some of your worries and concerns leaving you with it.

“You’re right. I know you are and I promise to tell you when I’m stressing out of my mind or nervous to the point where my knees are shaking, especially if I can’t tell anyone else. We’re married now so that means you’re stuck with me no matter what.” Chenle looked down at you, grinning that signature grin of his that you fell in love with until a look of shock suddenly shot across his face. “Holy shit, we’re married!”

You stared at him in confusion.

“What did you think the wedding ceremony meant?” You asked him as Chenle waved you off.

“No, no, I mean, I knew we were married but I guess it’s starting to sink in that we’re really married. Like I get to have you by my side forever...” Chenle trailed off, his eyes never leaving your face.

You leaned up to him, pressing your lips together softly, before pulling back slightly and whispering:

“Well you better get used to it, because it’s you and me for the rest of time now.”

A trumpet riff interrupted your moment, signalling that your time was almost upon you. You and Chenle got into position just as the doors in front of you opened and you prepared to greet your people.

You walked out into the sunlight, the sound of cheers and shouts overwhelming you as you waved to the citizens you had just promised to govern. Chenle’s hand found you once more, holding onto it tightly and pulling you slightly closer as he waved with his free hand. His grip remained tight, and you squeezed it reassuringly leaning in so that only he could hear before saying “I got you” and he seemed to relax. His grip loosened slightly and his smile faded into a genuine expression of joy and awe and you grinned, knowing that you loved him more than anything else on this planet.

The announcer lifted his hand, calling for momentary silence as he uttered the words that were followed by the largest cheer and celebration of them all.

“May I present, for the first time, the King and Queen of Ivairis!”

---

You laughed as Chenle twirled you around in time to the music, before pulling you back in and dipping you gently. You’d lost track of how long the celebrations had been going on for, but the music and lights had hypnotised you into staying longer and longer to enjoy the night.

You’d had the pleasure of meeting Chenle’s brothers as well. Kun was first in line for the throne, he was also married and honestly was the epitome of a perfect heir. Sicheng was second in line for the throne and, before you had met you had been slightly intimidated by him. After meeting him, however you had learnt he was one of the nicest people and so easy to get along with. Family was everything to him, and he spent most of his time working with new recruits for the Shanghai army.

Renjun was closest in age to Chenle, with only a year and a half separating them, and it was clear that they were closest to each other. Chenle had previously confided in you that, since he had three brothers, he hadn’t had much attention from his parents when he was young, and it was Renjun who was there for him. It was Renjun who had essentially shown him how to learn to grow up. Their casual bickering provided you with huge amounts of entertainment, but it was clear that they cherished each other dearly, and Renjun was so proud of everything Chenle had accomplished here.

The most bittersweet moment however, came when Chenle’s father approached you and asked to dance. He had the same kind smile on his face that he always wore and you easily agreed. He led you out onto the dance floor, just as he did the day Chenle first arrived at Ivairis.

“You two have come a long way since the last time we met.” King Zhong commented, a twinkle in his eyes that made you smile.

“You gave me some good advice.” You admitted to him. “When you came here, and we danced you told me: don’t rush this. And that was the best piece of advice anyone has ever given me. I feel like I married my best friend.”

King Zhong smiled down at you, blinking twice as he tried to figure out the best way to say his next words.

“Y/n-” You looked up at him as he paused, before swallowing and continuing. “I know how much you must have wanted your father to be here, he was such a brilliant man and I’m so sorry he couldn’t be with us today.”

“Me too.” You whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the music and people chatting in the background.

“I know that no one else will say this to you, so I will.” You looked up once again, to see him looking down at you with an expression that reminded you so much of your own father that it brought tears to your eyes. “I’m proud of you.”

You felt even more tears gather rapidly in your eyes at that, and you blinked repeatedly to keep them at bay. Chenle’s father’s hands came up to rest on your shoulders and hugged you. You hugged him back, feeling the fatherly warmth from his hug calm you down slightly.

“Thank you.” You said as he pulled back and smiled at you. He nodded at you, patting you on the head gently before the two of you continued to dance. You couldn’t quite describe the comfort that his words had brought you. Deep down you knew your father would be proud of you and all you had accomplished, you just wish he had been here to see it happen.

The song that was playing came to a stop, and you stepped away to clap for the musicians. You and Chenle’s father smiled at each other, before you excused yourself to the sides, needing a short break. You stood quietly and just observed the scene in front of you. There were countless members of the courts of Shanghai and Ivairis dancing together, you saw Chenle’s parents dancing in the middle as well, Renjun was speaking to Jisung by the side, saying something that caused Jisung to stare at the older boy with his eyes wide in amazement. Over on the other side of the hall were Taeyong, Jaehyun, Sicheng and Kun, all immersed in deep conversation and you could see both Jaemin and Jeno heading over to join the conversation. In fact you could see everyone except for-

“Hi love.” You felt a soft kiss on your cheek as you turned to your left and saw how Chenle had snuck up on you without you noticing.

“Hi.” You replied, smiling up at him.

“I was thinking, do you remember the celebration when we came back from the battle against Odin’s kingdom?” You nodded at his words and he carried on. “Well, what would you say about going back into the town again? Not just us though, opening the doors to the palace and courtyard and bringing the musicians outside so that the court and citizens can all celebrate as one?”

“Chenle...” You breathed. “I think that’s an amazing idea.”

His face split into a wide grin at your words and you both immediately moved to put his plan into action. You split up to find different guards who were on the doors, and explain to them what you would like to do. They seemed slightly hesitant, as this had never been done before, but they couldn’t disagree with their new King and Queen so they did exactly as you asked. You walked back into the hall, finding Chenle there waiting for you and the door remained open after you had arrived.

You slipped your hand into Chenle’s and he squeezed it gently, while signalling the musicians to stop playing. An air of confusion came over the room as every single pair of eyes came to rest on the two of you.

“Whenever we have a celebration, it seems to be split in two, with a chosen few celebrating in the castle, and the rest down in the town. The Queen and I would like to change this.”

“Indeed.” You took over from Chenle, your voice strong as you addressed the courts. “The whole emphasis of this marriage and alliance is on unity, and so, as we stand united in two different kingdoms, we will also stand united with all our people. We would like to invite you to join us as we go into the lower town for the rest of the night.”

There were a few murmurs amongst the crowd, but most people nodded and smiled in agreement, understanding your point on unity. You gestured for the musicians to come first, allowing them to be set up amongst the others playing in the lower towns before the rest of you began to move. You and Chenle were amongst the last people to leave, with only Jisung behind you.

He was grinning at the two of you like the Cheshire cat, shaking his head slightly as he chuckled.

“What is it?” Chenle asked his friend, rolling his eyes jokingly.

“Only the two of you would do something like this. In your first few hours as King and Queen, you break up an age-old tradition because of the separation and divide it causes. Only you would realise that and take the step to do something about it.” Jisung shrugged, brushing off his own words as if they were meaningless, but you knew he knew how much they meant to Chenle and yourself. If your marriage was supposed to bring unity, you had to make sure that you were making sure that it did. “Come on then, let’s go dance!”

He stepped in between the two of you, throwing his arms over each of your shoulders as the three of you burst out into laughter and headed into the lower town together, ready to dance the night away.

---

Both you and Chenle relied heavily on advisors during your first months of ruling. You mother stepped down and completely away from royal duties and, even though you felt as though you needed her guidance at times, you couldn’t ask her for help. She barely remembered who you were anymore, much less how to rule a kingdom. You visited her everyday, as did Chenle, and each time hurt more than the last. Watching the clouds pass over your mother’s mind as she struggles to place the face of the child who she cared for and loved all her life, was an indescribable pain.

She always remembered you eventually, something that you counted yourself very lucky for. You remember sitting by her bed, holding her hand as you spoke to her late one evening, telling her about a successful conclusion that you had come to during a council meeting that day.

“You’re doing so well my dear.” She spoke, her voice gravelly as if her throat was constantly dry.

“I’m trying.” You replied, forcing a smile on your face so that she wouldn’t see how tired you were. “I’ll make you proud.”

Your mother tightened her grip on your hand, encouraging you to look her in the eyes as she spoke again.

“You already have.”

She passed away that night.

You were almost relieved that her suffering was over, but her loss hit both you and Chenle very hard. She had become a second mother to him, and you knew how much he loved her. The night you both lost her, you stayed together, hugging each other and crying, just allowing yourselves to be vulnerable before you had to put on another strong appearance for your people when you appeared for the funeral.

Her funeral was identical to your fathers. She was laid, in her best clothes, softly in a long boat, decorated with flowers and pushed down along the river. You held Chenle’s shaking hand in your own as you both whispered your goodbyes into the lanterns and let them fly off into the sky. Allowing your mother to finally be reunited with the man she loved.

You walked back into your shared room, breathing out a heavy sigh as the doors closed behind you and you could finally drop the act you’d been holding all day. Sitting in those meetings, talking with different noblemen of the court about petty details, you had never felt more alone.

You were struggling to come to terms with the fact that you held the entire responsibility of this kingdom on your shoulders, and you didn’t have your parents to show you how to do it anymore. You rested your back against your door, and allowed your knees to give out and for you to sink to the floor.

Once you softly hit the ground you just sat there. You didn’t cry, you didn’t speak, you didn’t move. You just sat there, listening to the sounds of the kingdom around you. You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in your mind as time passed you by.

A knock on your door forced you to open your eyes and pull yourself back into reality. You stood up and quickly opened your door, finding one of your main advisors there with the paperwork for tomorrow’s sessions. You thanked him, accepting the documents and closed the door once more.

You stepped further into your room, placing the papers down on the desk you had before turning around, planning to lie down on your bed, but your gaze was caught by a figure standing on your balcony.

He had his back to you and was leaning over, but you knew without needing to see his face that it was Chenle. From the way that he was hunched over the balcony to the way he rolled his scarred shoulder every so often to keep the injured muscle moving, you knew he was deep in thought. You debated whether you should go out to see him, wondering if it was best to just leave him thinking, and eventually you turned away, deciding to leave him to his thoughts.

You pulled off your shoes, removed your jewellery and combed through your hair with your fingers. You looked at the small pile of jewellery on your dresser, before reaching down slowly and picking up the silver ring that bared the royal seal of Ivairis. Your bottom lip began to tremble as your mind was flooded with memories of your parents and your childhood. From your mother gently tying up your hair in the mornings, to your father bringing you along to meetings and you hiding behind his legs.

You dropped the ring, your head falling into your hands as you finally let the tears fall. Your breath shortened as you quietly sobbed into your hands, hiccuping as you tried to catch your breath. You needed to see Chenle. You stood up, whirling around to run out to the balcony, but instead you were greeted with him standing in front of you. He had come back inside, and you had been so lost in your sadness that you hadn’t realised.

The two of you stood there, staring at each other, both having red eyes and countless tear tracks down your faces. Chenle said nothing, and instead just opened his arms and you ran into them, the force of your bodies colliding making him take a step back to steady the two of you, but it didn’t matter.

You completely broke down, sobbing into his shoulder as Chenle tried to console you. He gently stroked your head with one hand, the other resting comfortably on your waist as he whispered soft words of comfort into your ear. It didn’t seem to be helping as your crying wasn’t stopping at all.

Chenle’s voice broke more as he tried to talk and all it took was you tightening your grip on him for him to give up on trying to hold it together. He buried his face into your shoulder and let the grief overcome him, crying for the people who took him in and gave him a home.

You both held onto each other for dear life, as if the other would slip through your fingers if you let go for a second. It took a while for you to calm down, feeling as though you only stopped crying because you ran out of tears. You brought your hand up to the back of Chenle’s head, running your fingers through his hair and placing a feather light kiss to his temple.

Even after the two of you calmed down, the sadness was still there, drowning your every thought.

“I’m not ready to be Queen.” You admitted, your voice so quiet, as if you were scared for the words to come out. “I thought I’d have more time, I thought I’d be able to get used to the idea of doing it by myself but I’m not. I’m not ready for any of this, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not ready either.” Chenle croaked back, his voice sore from the amount of crying he had done already that night. “My parents may still be alive, but they aren’t here, they aren’t close and I can’t contact them easily enough to ask for help when I need it. I just feel... isolated.” Chenle voice broke once again as he pushed his head further into your shoulder.

“Me too. I’ve never felt this alone.” You whispered, not trusting your voice to speak any louder.

This time Chenle didn’t reply, instead just silently nodding as he held you close. You both understood that you didn’t need advice, or a solution. At least, not yet, right now, all you needed, was to tell the other how you felt. Finally saying the words, admitting the overwhelming emotions that had been weighing you down for the past few months, had already made you feel lighter.

He pulled his head out from your shoulder to rest his forehead on yours. You breathed out, leaning into him as he kept his comforting grip on you. Your eyes were closed, as your mind focused on the one fact that Chenle was standing right there with you, and he understood how you felt.

“I’m sorry.” His quiet whisper making you open your eyes in confusion.

“What for?” You asked and Chenle sighed, as if he was preparing to get something off his chest.

“For not telling you. We made a deal on our wedding day to always be honest with each other about how we were feeling, and I didn’t tell you, and now we’re both here breaking down...”

“Chenle... I’m sorry too. You weren’t the only one keeping things to yourself.” You swallowed, before finally pulling your forehead off his and losing at him straight on. “We aren’t used to this. And I don’t just mean being King and Queen, I mean all of it. We aren’t used to being married, we aren’t used to be sole rulers, we aren’t used to being alone. We had just got married when we then got crowned what felt like five minutes after.”

“We need to figure out who we are as a King and Queen, and who we are as husband and wife. And they don’t necessarily need to be the same people.” You nodded at Chenle’s words before adding onto them with your own.

“There’s so much pressure on this, and I think a lot of that is coming from us. We need to take a step back from being this groundbreaking alliance, and just be us. Chenle and y/n, just two people in love, not the King and Queen of Ivairis whose wedding united lands for generations to come. We don’t need to be our titles, we just need to be-”

“Us.” Chenle finished and you nodded. “And we need to mean it this time. We can’t just say that we’re going to be honest and open with each other and then keep things to ourselves. We’re a team. It’s you and me y/n, and nothing is going to change that.”

You leaned up, closing the small distance between the two of you and pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back, sighing into it slightly before you both pulled away. The kiss was short, but it was enough. It was a promise.

You weren’t just these young kids in love anymore, trying to figure out the best way to spend time with their crush. You were grown adults, married, ruling a kingdom, but no matter how far you went, or how much you grew, you knew that Chenle would always be by your side. You knew that now better than ever.

And for the first time in a long while, neither of you felt alone.

---

You and Chenle kept to your promise, coming to talk to each other, to trust the other to be vulnerable with the smallest of details. Whether it was a certain knight in training being a bit arrogant, or a trade deal you were unsure was worth you signing off on, you shared it with each other. Your close bond as husband and wife translated into your royal duties and you found yourselves settling into a good rhythm as King and Queen.

But nothing good lasts forever.

You and Chenle stayed late after a particularly gruelling council session. The repairs to the outlying villages were almost complete, and the bandit attacks had decreased to them being almost non-existent. A few more supplies were being organised to be sent down, and Chenle was still keen on the idea of training some of the people in the outlying villagers so that, if a bandit attack does happen, they can defend themselves. However, a couple of council members were arguing that it would be a waste of resources to train them, which resulted in a lengthy discussion that lasted for much longer than planned.

With both you and Chenle in agreement however, there was not much that the council men could do against it once the decision had been made. They would send some knights down to the outlying villages to train the few they could, and then that knowledge would be passed down from generation to generation, with knights arriving every once in a while to help out and make sure the correct technique was being practiced.

You quickly instructed a messenger to deliver this note the following morning, thinking that nobody needs to be disturbed this late. The two of you were looking over the plans, deciding on the knights who would go when the doors to the great hall burst open and a scout of yours came running in.

“Mark, what’s wrong?” Chenle asked worriedly, noticing the look of panic on the older boy’s face.

“Fayre’s kingdom, your majesty. They heard of the Queen’s mother passing and that the two of you ascended to the throne and they think you’ll be weak. They’re planning to attack Ivairis with the full force of their army.” Mark relayed the bad news, breathing heavily as he tried to recover from his rush to the palace.

“Oh god.” You breathed, your hand coming to your face in shock. This was not good. Fayre was one of the strongest and bloodthirsty kings around, and if he wanted Ivairis, chances were he wouldn’t stop until he had it.

You and Chenle shared one look and knew that you had to act fast. Chenle called for the guards to bring in his closest knights, two scouts and a messenger, while you whirled on Mark to ask him more questions.

“When did their army leave?”

“Three days ago, I rushed to get back here to warn you before them.”

“Thank you Mark, you may have saved us by doing that. If they left three days ago, they still have at least two before they reach us here, meaning we could send our army out to meet them somewhere we choose.” You thought out loud, Mark rapidly nodding his head next to you.

Chenle reappeared out of nowhere, you not even having noticed he’d left in your state of panic. His arms held a bunch of rolled up papers that depicted the maps of the surrounding lands.

“I’m way ahead of you.” He said, placing them all on the round table in front of you as you rolled them out and moved them into position.

You were lining up details to get a larger picture when the people Chenle had summoned began to arrive. Jisung came first, the head of the royal guard was always ready to be called for his job, with both Jeno and Taeyong close behind. The two scouts, Yangyang and Shotaro came next, with Jaemin close behind and Jaehyun and the other messenger Xiaojun arrived last.

You didn’t both to tell them to take a seat or to greet them, the stakes were simply too high. Instead you just told them the news straight away, not wasting time by sugarcoating it or easing into it at all.

“Fayre is planning to attack Ivairis.”

You heard a chorus of worried inhales of breath, signalling the panic that the rest of the group were feeling. You nodded at Mark, allowing him to explain the rest of the details.

“They left their kingdom three days ago and were travelling south, aiming to take this route here to avoid getting spotted by the Ivairis patrol. As far as I’m aware, this plan wasn’t changed, meaning that, as long as nothing disrupts their route, they should reach Ivairis by sunset in two days time and will likely attack the following morning.”

“Our best shot is heading out to meet them somewhere, like we did with Odin’s kingdom.” Jisung spoke first, the rest nodding in agreement. “I would place my bets on somewhere like here.” He reached forwards and circled a certain spot on the map. “It’s not sheltered, so there’s no chance for a surprise attack. While that limits our chances of coming up with one ourselves, Fayre destroys his enemies by drawing them in and then having a second plan up his sleeve.”

“Jisung’s right.” Taeyong said, all eyes flicking towards him as he spoke. “We can’t try to outsmart him by using his own tactics against him, that’s how people get killed. We need to force him into a situation where he has to fight us on our terms, that’s our best shot.”

“Xiaojun-” Chenle called out, the boy’s head shooting up at his king’s voice. “I need you to send word to Shanghai, tell them of the severity of the situation and that we need reinforcements as soon as possible.” Xiaojun nodded, quickly making a note of the battle location before disappearing.

You turned to the other two scouts.

“Yangyang, Shotaro, you need to scout the army. Get us a rough idea of numbers and see if there’s any weak spots. There won’t be enough time for you to report back to us here so you’ll need to tell the army when they arrive at the battle location, understand?” Both of the boys nodded at your words, before heading back out of the door to go do as you asked.

“What about me?” Mark asked, but you shook your head.

“You’ve done enough Mark.” You said, not allowing him to put himself in danger again.

“But they trust me, I could find out more insider information, I-”

“No, Mark.” Chenle cut him off. “Y/n’s right, you’ve done more than enough. Without you we would never stand a chance, that’s for sure. Plus as soon as we meet them they will know that we had a man on the inside, and it won’t take long for them to figure out it’s you. We can’t put you in that danger.”

Mark nodded, understanding your decision before you both thanked him again and allowed him to go for the night.

“What about us?” Jaehyun asked and Chenle turned to look at the remaining knights, his face grave.

“Be ready to prepare the troops in the morning. We’re going to war.”

---

One night. That was all it took for your world to be thrown upside down. In one night you had gone from council meetings and rebuilding the outlying villages to sending the man you loved off to war. You were standing in your joint room, watching as he finished getting dressed just as the first rays of light were appearing through the window. You walked towards him, silently taking the necklace out of his hands and fastening it yourself.

He turned around to face you but you didn’t take your gaze off the jewellery he was wearing. He wore it everyday, a simple necklace with two seals on it. One being the royal seal of Shanghai and the other being the royal seal of Ivairis. The symbol of his two nations. Chenle noticed you avoiding his gaze and brought his hands to your face, gently cupping your jaw and guiding you to look at him.

He leant in, placing a kiss on your forehead and your hand gripped at the fabric around his waist.

“If things aren’t going well-”

“Stop.” You said, not wanting to hear about what would happen if they lost this war. If they lost, Chenle would be dead, and you didn’t want to think about the possibility of that happening.

“Listen.” Chenle commanded softly. “If things aren’t going well, I’ll send a Shanghai messenger back here. You need to get as many of our people as you can, and take them with you to Shanghai. I made sure Xiaojun mentioned in the message the possibility of that happening and I know they would look after you. They reassured us we always have a home there, and I know that would apply to you if I don’t come back from this.” Your hands tightened their grip around his shirt at his words. “If anything happens to me... I need to know that you’ll be safe.”

You nodded silently and Chenle breathed a sigh of relief at your agreement, moving his hands from your face to around your shoulders to hug you close as you did the same around his waist. You buried your face in his chest, breathing in as much of him as you could before you had to let him go.

You walked with him through the castle, your hand held tightly in his as you both approached the main doors. You knew that beyond those doors stood your entire army, waiting for their king to lead them into battle. You suddenly stopped moving, causing Chenle to turn back in confusion.

You stared at him for a second, trying to find the right words to say before just throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him as tightly as you could. Chenle caught you, wrapping his own arms around your waist and squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to make this fleeting moment last forever.

“Come back to me.” You whispered.

“I promise.”

---

It had been a month.

An entire month and the only sign you’d had that they were still alive were the two letters from the Shanghai reinforcements sending word to you that they had arrived at the battlefield to help. The knowledge that they had extra men fighting with them was reassuring, but not hearing a single word from Chenle, not knowing if he was even alive, for a whole month was tearing you apart.

The entire kingdom had been in a state of fear. The outlying villages had been told to be prepared to move into the citadel in case the battle was lost so that they could barricade themselves in and be protected. Every citizen had their nerves on fire for the past month as they all waited for any kind of news.

You had been in the weekly review of the tax collection when the sound of horses hooves caught your attention. The entire table froze, knowing that, one way or another, the battle was over. The doors to the great hall burst open and Mark appeared, nodding at you, a relieved expression on his face.

“It’s them.”

You dropped the paper in your hand, standing up and running out of the hall. You ran down the corridors, Mark by your side and you didn’t stop for anything. Various other members of the court and servants in the castle joined you as they all were eager to welcome the knights home, but all you cared about was finding Chenle.

You burst out of the front doors just in time to see the last of the knights trickle back in. Your jaw dropped, nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you.

Out of all the knights who went to battle, only around a fifth of them made it back. Your eyes did a desperate scan of the faces of the live men. You saw Taeyong, who had his left arm in a makeshift sling, Jaehyun and Jaemin were carrying an unresponsive Jeno between them, the large red stain on Jeno’s shirt giving away that he was seriously injured, and Jisung was standing further down the steps in front of you.

You couldn’t see Chenle anywhere.

Jisung took a few steps towards you, limping heavily, and you rushed down to him, throwing your arms around him in a hug.

He caught you with a grunt and you tried to apologise but the words got stuck in your throat. You were shaking slightly in his hold but Jisung still hugged you tightly, relieved to be back home.

“We won.” He whispered, and you nodded slowly at his words before pulling back.

“At what cost?” You asked, too scared to directly voice the question that was plaguing your mind.

Did Chenle survive?

“He’s alive. The last I saw him, he was alive.” Jisung answered your unasked question, a small ounce of relief flooding your system, but it didn’t nothing to calm the furious fear at the fact that nobody knew where he was.

You took a couple of steps back to find all the knights looking at you for your words. You found that you didn’t even know what to say to them, how could you comfort someone who has been through the ordeal they have?

You cleared your throat before addressing the men in front of you.

“Our brave knights. There are no words to describe how thankful we are to you for everything you have done for us. You bravery and sacrifice will never be forgotten. Today, we will have our traditional victory procession, and I would like to add a moment at the end, for anyone to address anything they would wish to. And to speak to or about anyone they may have lost. Please go to the court physician and your people in Ivairis are eternally indebted to you.” Your voice broke slightly at the end and the knights all nodded at you in appreciation.

They each headed inside one by one, only Jisung, Jaehyun, Jaemin and Jeno remained. A few members of the medical team rushed out, taking Jeno’s limp body from Jaehyun and Jaemin and carrying him inside, shouting out various treatments. Jaehyun squeezed your shoulder as he went inside, the exhaustion clear on his face. Jaemin stepped up but paused for a minute and turned to face you.

“Thank you, for adding that opportunity at the end. We lost a lot of men out there and I know people will want to address it.”

With that he headed inside, leaving just you and Jisung standing there looking at each other. Jisung opened his mouth to speak but you got there first.

“Go to the court physician Jisung. Please get yourself checked out and your wounds treated first.”

He closed his mouth, nodding at you before moving past you and entering the castle. You turned you gaze on the now empty courtyard, the men having cleared out and the horses having been retrieved. You took a few shaky breaths, waiting a few extra seconds, staring wistfully at the gate, praying that by some miracle Chenle would come riding through. But he didn’t. So you shut your eyes, took a deep breath, and turned back into the castle, the doors closing behind you.

---

The victory procession was bittersweet. The knights were acknowledged for their hard work and struggles, and nobody tried to deny that this had been a heart wrenching battle. The celebrations were half hearted however, the entire kingdom feeling the loss of so many knights and the king that they were all missing. The toasts at the end brought tears to your eyes as the knight took it in turns to remember their fallen friends.

And through it all, anyone could tell that the entire kingdom was terrified that their king wouldn’t come back. The king who every citizen had grown to love and admire. The king who set an example for all future kings, who acted as a king should, the king who you were lucky enough to call your husband, your love.

You removed your final piece of jewellery, staring at yourself in the mirror as you tried to figure out the whirlpool of emotions in your head. The knock at your bedroom door made your head snap towards it as you called out for whoever it was to enter. Jisung’s head poked around the door, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed.

You had known Jisung almost your entire life, and you had never seen him look this broken. He took a couple of steps into your room before looking questioningly at your bed, asking silently for permission. You gestured for him to sit, moving over to join him yourself.

“I think I should tell you what I know.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak quite yet.

“It was the final day. We knew it was coming to an end, we could all feel it. It’s hard to describe but there’s a difference in the air. On the final night, the king names someone he wants to be in charge of the army in case...” Jisung swallowed as he continued trying to get the words out. “In case he’s killed. Chenle chose me. The next morning, just before we went out, Chenle told me to do whatever I could to get this back to you.”

It was only then that you noticed Jisung had been holding something ever since he stepped foot into your room. He lifted up the object and you recognised it immediately. He placed it gently in your hands, watching as you turned it over in your fingers.

It was Chenle’s necklace.

“I didn’t see him after that.” Jisung’s voice brought you to tear your eyes away from the necklace in your lap and look back up at him. “I lost sight of him in battle. I know it sounds like he didn’t make it but- we scoured every inch of the battlefield after we won, there was no sign of Chenle among the bodies, nor was he taken captive by Fayre either because we searched their base. Aspen was missing too. Chenle is out there, alive and trying to make his way back here to you. And he will, he has to.”

You let your eyes flicker back down to Chenle’s necklace for a second before looking back up at Jisung.

“Thank you.” You whispered. “It’s been a long day, you should get some sleep.”

Jisung nodded, standing quickly and heading back out the same door he entered through. You didn’t from move your position, instead sitting in the same spot for the next few hours, turning the seals over and over in your fingers, wondering if Chenle would ever find his way back.

---

You were sat in the throne room, having just finished a meeting with the keeper of the archives to document the battle. Labelling Chenle as missing was something you had hoped you would never have to do, but there you were, drawing your signature on that very slip of paper. You really understood your mother’s words now when she said that she only felt as though she could rule when she had the person she loved by her side.

Because you didn’t just feel alone without Chenle, you felt completely and utterly lost.

A guard appears, telling you that there is a messenger for you, and you gesture for them to be let in. Yangyang strolls through the door, and you can’t help the small smile that appears on your face at sight of his much larger, contagious one.

“I have good news!” He announced, making you raise your eyebrows. “News of the victory travelled fast around kingdoms both close by and far away, and any thoughts off attacking Ivairis have been wiped off the map. Between the strength of our army and the alliance with Shanghai, the kingdom is almost invincible.”

You let out a breath of disbelief, smiling lightly at the boy in front of you as the news settled. Ivairis was safe. You asked Yangyang to spread the news around the kingdom, allow everyone to revel in the announcement and he gladly agreed before running out of the room so fast he left the door open.

You chuckled slightly at the sight of him, but the smile on your face faded quickly as the thought of Chenle travelled through your head. Another two weeks had passed but he was still missing. Nobody had heard a word from or about him since the final day in battle, and the fear that you were never going to see him again had become your natural state of mind.

You looked out of the window on your left, staring down at the rose buses and stone bench that sat there. You felt all the memories rush through your head of the times you and Chenle had sat on that very bench. You still remembered walking past it in the first few days of Chenle arriving, when you had given him a tour around the grounds. Though he would deny it within an inch of his life, Chenle had a soft spot for flowers and loved nothing more than spending a day surrounded with flowers of all different kinds.

You sighed out once more, closing your eyes to stop the tears that were threatening to fall.

“You promised you’d come back to me...” You spoke to the empty room, your voice wavering heavily.

You rested your head on the glass, lost in your own mind when a voice cut through. Your eyes shot open and you whirled around to be greeted with the person you thought you would never see again, the person you loved more than anything else in this world, more than life itself.

“Have I ever broken my promises?”

Chenle.

The world stopped when you saw him. You didn’t blink, didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, terrified that if you did, the image of him would disappear and you would be left with the reality that didn’t have him in it.

He took a step forward, standing in front of you and reaching up to tuck a stay piece of hair behind your ear. You lifted a shaky hand to his face, pressing your palm against his cheek and taking in the fact that he was stood in front of you.

“Chenle...” You whispered, trying to convince yourself that this was real life.

He nodded at your words, tears filling his eyes at the sight of you after so long. When it sunk in it hit you like a ton of bricks. You threw your arms around him and broke down, sobbing into his shoulder.

“Oh my god, Chenle. You made it back.” You cried, holding him tighter that you ever had before.

“Of course I did, I could never leave you like that.” He whispered, his quiet voice a stark contrast to your broken one.

His arms were securely around your waist, capturing you next to his being. You could feel that he was smaller, having lost weight when he was lost and trying to get back. He had dirt in his hair, and various bruises and other minor injuries that you could see, but he was here. He was here, in your arms, alive.

You pulled back, bringing one hand to rest on his cheek as you pressed your foreheads together.

“I love you so much.” You breathed, the tears still steadily falling down your cheeks.

“I love you more.” He replied, relaxing in the knowledge that he was home. He was standing in your arms, surrounded by his kingdom.

Chenle was home.

---

~ 10 years later ~

“So we are in agreement?” You asked the court, looking around the round table and seeing all the other heads of the men and women present nodding at your words. “Well in that case, we can call it a day here. Thank you for your input.”

You stood, smiling at the people in front of you as they all left the room.

“Ten years and council meetings are still as dull as the first one.” You muttered to yourself.

“I hear that.” A voice replied, making your eyes shoot up. You found yourself looking at your husband, who was leaning against the door with a cheeky grin on his face. “But if we want to set a good example, we should probably pretend they are.”

You shook your head, chuckling to yourself at his words. The sound of light footsteps running down the hall caused you and Chenle to send each other a knowing look.

The doors to the great hall opened once more and in ran two little children.

“Daddy, look I won!” You son yelled happily, grabbing Chenle’s hand and pointing towards the doorway where a panting Jisung stood, leaning on the door frame for support.

“Really Jisung? Two children under the age of 6 can outrun you?” Chenle asked, his eyebrows raised judgmentally.

“Look.” Jisung spat, pointing a finger accusingly at the two of you. “If the two of you hadn’t had twins with Chenle’s bluntness and y/n determination, I would be fine. But these two are like the mixture of you two, it’s terrifying.”

“Well, Jisung I hate to break it to you, but that is how children work. They tend to be a mixture of their parents.” You replied dryly, reaching down to hug your daughter as she held on to your leg, catching her breath.

“You know... we made a deal that we would have three.” Chenle reminded you, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you burst out into laughter at Jisung’s disgusted expression.

“Okay, that’s my cue to leave. Just remember, there are young children here.”

Jisung gestured to the twins that were standing close to you, before saying a quick goodbye, which your twins shouted back even louder, as he headed off to the next training session.

“Is everything sorted?” Chenle asked you, trying to stop your son from attempting to sit on the documents on the table.

“Yes, everything was agreed upon today. Starting from tomorrow, we are in an official peace treaty with all the surrounding lands. There are plans to share combat tactics, and resources if any kingdom needs it. We’re about to enter a new era.” You told him, the smile on your face growing at your words.

“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you.” He breathed, his voice lowering for the last part as he grabbed your hand.

You intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m proud of us. We did this together.”

Chenle smiled at you, the signature smile of his that always took you back to the shy boy who you toured around the rose garden. You reach out with your other hand, your daughter grabbing it as Chenle took a hold of your son and together you walked out to stand on the battlements. Neither of your children were tall enough to see over the stone walls, so you both picked them up, allowing them to sit and see the view.

“One day, you’ll be the ones to rule this kingdom.” Chenle told them, watching as their eyes lit up in amazement. “And you’ll do it with a very special someone by your side.”

You smiled out at the view, the roofs of houses, the market stalls, the training grounds... you could see your entire kingdom from up here. Your entire home.

“Tell us the story again of how you and Mummy met?” Your daughter asked, looking up at her father with wide eyes.

Chenle began the tale, pointing out to the view as he did. He had got in the habit of telling them this story to put them to sleep, and since then they had asked for it constantly, the way he changed certain words to make it sound like a fairytale had made it their favourite.

He told the story of a magical land that became his home and the evil kings and dragons that he and Uncle Jisung had fought to protect it, all while his fairy queen, which was you, stood bravely behind the walls sheltering and looking after the people.

You listened to his calming voice tell the legendary tale and couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face as you watched your family. You thought about how your life had turned out, all the ups and downs and challenges that you had faced, but you never faced them alone. Chenle was right there with you, ready to tackle any problem that the two of you may encounter. You turned your gaze out to your kingdom, the wealthy and prosperous civilisation that the two of you had grown together, yet it only meant everything it did because of the man you shared it with.

You remembered your conversation with Chenle before he proposed, the two of you talking about the life you could possibly have if you weren’t royals. You discussed all the things you would change, and how it would be different. But, standing here now, looking over your kingdom, with your family by your side, you knew one thing for certain.

You wouldn’t change a thing.

195 notes · View notes

danishmiilk · 3 years

Text

when thunder splits the sky - na jaemin

au || royalty!au, soulmates!au

genre || angst, fluff, slight crack

warnings || swearing, death mentioned, almost deathly sickness, a lot of stress on jaemin and y/n’s part, throwing up.

summary || soulmates. the source of happiness, the source of sickness. you’re shocked that your best friend (and the second prince) is your soulmate, but it shouldn’t be too bad. after all, you’re best friends, right? you know each other better than anyone else in the world. but when jaemin refuses to realise his love, shit hits the fan.

word count || ~10k

note || this is a collaboration piece with @astroboy-lele for @k-dinernet‘s dance off event!

you and jaemin were close, closer than a commoner and a prince should be. but since you were the main cook’s daughter, it wasn’t too uncommon to see the two of you running around with bright smiles lighting up your faces. then studies took over for jaemin. he was constantly studying to become a better king than his dad, which was slightly unfair since he wasn’t even the crown prince. but accidents could happen, so jaemin had to be prepared. so you were left to your own devices most of the time, fiddling with things in the kitchen, or helping clean the monstrous castle jaemin called home.

“jaem!” you giggled happily when jaemin emerged from the library’s study. he looked tired. more tired than a 17 year old should be. dark circles contrasted his pale skin, and your hand automatically came up to rub at his slim cheeks. “you should get more rest.” you chided him.

“can’t.” jaemin responded curtly, removing your hands from his face. “i need to study.”

"but you're always studying," you sighed. it shouldn't be this hard to spend time with your best friend, but you supposed it was one of the cons of befriending the second prince of your kingdom.

"you don't understand, y/n! how could you? it's my duty to my family and my country to keep studying in case, heaven forbid, anything happens to doyoung hyung!" he snapped sharply at you, and though you knew he was clearly overstretched and stressed beyond anything you'd ever seen him (or didn't see him, he was always in the library nowadays anyway), you still took a step back and flinched away, hurt. jaemin stepped forward, mouth trying to form apologies. you shook your head, eyes glassy.

“don’t.” your voice was softer than expected. “i’ll.. i’ll leave you to it.” you ran off before jaemin could even react, wiping at your eyes.

jaemin watched you go. he watched you leave, back retreating into the dark hallways. he felt bad, of course he did - jaemin would never snap at you for no good reason. the last time he actually wanted to hurt someone was when you came to him sobbing, one year ago. the memory was still fresh in jaemin’s mind.

you supposed it could be you being too sensitive, but it was the toll the absence of jaemin took on you. sure, absence made the heart grow fonder, but it also did make cracks emerge in a friendship. you couldn’t see your cracks yet, but they’d emerge soon enough - it was the first time in so long you’d managed to talk to jaemin, and he’d just brushed you away brusquely. your hand raised to your eyes to wipe away the stray tears that had fallen.

without looking where you were running, you’d bumped into something very solid. something very human. roughly, you placed your hands on said solid thing and pushed yourself away, speeding around the obstacle to the forest, tears still filling up your eyes. you didn’t blink them back - if you’d blinked, they were sure to have fallen out.

“y/n?” the very confused crown prince shouted out from somewhere behind you, “what’s going on?” and unbeknownst to you, his brother was soon to follow, brushing past him like he was invisible (last he checked, he wasn’t.) “jaemin?” the pair of you had left long before there was a chance to provide the prince with any of his requested answers, leaving a very confused doyoung standing in the middle of the hallway. sighing, doyoung brushed off his clothes. sometimes he didn’t know what he put up with you for.

once you set foot into the forest, immediate regret almost washed over you. it started raining. not gently either, it came down in harsh droplets, hammering into your clothes, thoroughly soaking you to the bone. you shivered, rubbing your hands up and down your arms, trying to bring warmth to yourself. it didn’t work, so you settled with standing under a tree in an attempt to stay out of the storm. you gazed up at the sky, wincing as thunder rumbled in the distance, reminding you of your fears. you wished with all your might that the storm would stop. it didn’t. of course it didn’t. why would it, it was nature, and nature didn’t listen to common people, only the gods above. “y/n? y/n! oh my god, y/n!” you heard a shout echo through the forest, and you shivered again. “there you are, do you know how long i’ve been looking for you?” jaemin accused, hands grabbing at your shoulders. you glared back, though it wasn’t threatening as you were shaking and shivering, teeth chattering. “you know it’s the rainy season and almost winter! what the fuck were you thinking?” jaemin huffed, but shrugged off his coat and draped it around your shoulders gently, concern making his eyebrows knit together.

“it was sunny before.” you protested, and jaemin exhaled, shaking his head with disappointment at your naive actions.

“you should know the weather changes quickly,” jaemin retorted, and that shut you up. you knew the weather changed fast, but emotions took over you, just wanting to escape the castle jaemin called home. “we should find some shelter. i know there’s an old cottage somewhere, i just don’t know where.” jaemin sighed.

you raised your eyebrows at him, “what, it wouldn’t be some strange warped hansel and gretel remix going on, would it? because we’re not smart enough to push witches into ovens.” jaemin smiled widely, chuckling at your small jab at yourself and him.

“no, it’s completely safe.” he assured you, grabbing your hand. jaemin nervously cleared his throat. “uh… i, i should apologize for earlier. it wasn’t right for me to snap at you.” you squeezed his hand gently.

“i know you’re stressed, it’s okay. i really should be more lenient.” you sighed, slightly disappointed in yourself for not understanding your best friend’s struggles. his hair was sticking to his forehead, yours similarly sticking you your arms and neck.

“it’s just the expectations, you know. of my parents, of the people… of the country.” jaemin’s eyes widened in horror and fear, an expression that would be almost comical under different circumstances and whispered, “what if i have to rule the country one day?”

your friend blanched and you sighed, tightening your hold around him to anchor him to reality, “look, i’m not saying you’re incapable of doing it, but it’s really quite impossible that something were to happen to doyoung, so i don’t think you really have to worry about that too much. still, being royalty is probably way harder than i could imagine.”

his voice wistful, jaemin’s eyes shined with tears - or perhaps it was just the rain creating illusions. “sometimes i wish i were never born into royalty. but you know what, there’s pros and cons to everything, that’s just how life is. we get privileges, but we can’t have the best of both worlds. still,” he looked down at the wet ground, “every time i see children running about or playing with their friends in courtyards or in the streets, it makes me wish i had a childhood. makes me wish i had friends, and was allowed to play with them, to live a normal life. normal. what a beautiful word, really, and how ironic that millions of people would give anything to be a member of the royal family, while the second prince would do anything to get out of being one.”

there wasn’t very much to say, you thought, considering jaemin very rarely went into long, emotional speeches like this one. you’d never be able to understand, and you weren’t about to try. softly, so very softly, you whispered, “but you have me.” jaemin smiled softly, and slightly proudly at you.

“yeah. yeah, i do.” and he did. he’s always had you, from the first day he sneaked into the kitchen for a taste of his birthday cake before he was supposed to, until- well, there isn’t an until if you’ll have his back forever, is there?

a cottage was beginning to come into view in the distance, a quaint little thing fit for no more than one person (or perhaps seven dwarves, no reference to snow white intended). the rain blurred your vision and wind whipped through your hair, but it was shelter, and so hand in hand, you ran towards it.

“to what honour do i owe the presence of the second prince at my humble abode?” a boy’s voice, sweet and melodic, came from behind you.

you jumped. “jaemin! i thought you said it was safe.” you hissed, clutching at jaemins arms. jaemin just shrugged. you sighed, keeping an eye on the strange boy. jaemin gripped your hand tighter, however.

jaemin gestured vaguely around, staring at the auburn-haired boy with no small amount of skepticism, “i thought you’d be… older. like, an old lady.”

the boy scoffed. “who’s to say i’m not? witches don’t always have to be middle aged ladies with no fashion sense and even less hair. i’m donghyuck, by the way. come on in.” jaemin was still looking the boy up and down in curiosity, finally blurting out, “witches use umbrellas?”

“no, we’re waterproof,” donghyuck deadpanned, sarcasm filling his words.

“jaemin,” you frowned, “do you know him?” a quick shake of his head confirmed your suspicions. “then why,” you half-screeched into his ear, “do you assume he’s safe?”

“i’m not. i could turn you into a frog, if you want.” the boy suggested, waving a hand, making you flinch and jaemin move your smaller frame behind him. donghyuck moved a shoulder evenly up and down, “joking.”

“that wasn’t funny!” you gasped. donghyuck moved his other shoulder up and down, doing a strange half-shrug again, “nobody gets my humour.”

you followed him into the house, dripping water all over his doormat and the wooden planks of his floor, but not daring to move any further than that. donghyuck waved his hand, slamming the wooden door shut behind you and lighting the fire, “will the two of you stop looking so shocked? it’s not like i’m going to cook you for dinner, so why are you acting like you’ve never seen a witch before?”

“because we haven’t,” the note of childlike curiosity reappeared in jaemin’s voice, and you were glad his mind was taken off of his royal duties, “they were outlawed a long time ago.” “right,” donghyuck levitated a couple mugs of cocoa over to you, “i forgot, sorry.”

“so your existence is basically illegal, and yet you’re serving the prince of your kingdom hot chocolate in the middle of the thunderstorm like nothing’s wrong?” you sputtered in disbelief, though you didn’t actually splutter, of course; that was rather an expression authors liked using. “all in a day’s work,” donghyuck glanced at you again, “come in and stop dripping water on the mat. would you believe it, magically drying the mat is harder than magically drying the wood.” very honestly, you didn’t know what to make of that boy.

you stood awkwardly, pressing yourself into jaemin’s side as you watched donghyuck bustle around his house, ironically not unlike an old lady. “so, ummm, could you show us some magic or something?”

“like drying our clothes,” jaemin added, motioning to the soaked fabric draped over his body.

“they’ll dry, just sit by the fireplace. in the meantime, i can show you a soulmate spell if you’d like to see it. it’s one of the easier and prettier spells, so i think you’d enjoy it, even if it’s highly unlikely it would work. soulmates are rare things, and even rarer are soulmates who discover each other and the fact that they are soulmates. so i’ll do it, but if you two don’t turn out to be soulmates, don’t be disappointed. if you do, there isn’t going to be a flash of golden light and a shower of sequins either, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“you’re saying like what would happen is one of us would die and suddenly come back to life.” you sarcastically commented, but eyes growing wide as the moon above when donghyuck looked around nervously.

“well…” he started, but you held up a hand.

“excuse me, what. come again?”

“let me just show you.” donghyuck sighed, and got up, grabbing a book from the large shelf pushed against the wall. he flipped through a few pages carefully, and let out a satisfied “ah,” when he found the correct page in the yellowing book. “the concept of soulmates hath been the strongest bond known to man since the beginnings of time. for the true blossoming of true love takes place when the eyes of soulmates transform into colours of the fall. time and time again, history older than anything thou or i could ever imagine hast proven that soulmates are rare, ones who know about them even more so. for thee, the pair who is reading this, thou art soulmates. it would be an insult to fate and everyone who cannot experience such a connection to not realise your feelings. thou hath one month to realize feelings or one half of the pair will be fated to a cruel ending. as mere mortals, we do not make the rules. nobody can help thee except the other, but fear not. you are soulmates. you have a bond. said bond shalt be enough, if thou realises it.” haechan read, rubbing the thin, old pages of the book between careful fingers. you glanced over at jaemin who was shifting his weight back and forth, not knowing where to put his feet. “so, basically,” donghyuck started, ignoring jaemin’s nervous state. “if your soulmate doesn’t acknowledge their feelings for you, or you don’t, one of you would basically die.” he shrugged. your mouth dropped open. how in the world was he so calm about it? “what the fuck? they could die?” jaemin seemed to share your sentiment.

“what is a fuck?” donghyuck furrowed his eyebrows together, evidently confused as to what this strange new word meant. jaemin faltered, taken aback, “wait, dude, you look like you’re, what, seventeen, and you have no idea what fuck means?” donghyuck looked at jaemin like he was an idiot, “never gotten the chance to interact with a lot of other seventeen year olds.” jaemin nodded solemnly, “can relate. only got this loser for a friend.” jaemin hooked a thumb in your direction. you rolled your eyes.

“let us begin the spell! i feel like i’m conducting a child gender reveal party,” he exclaimed happily, rubbing his hands together with glee. you held up your hand.

“hold the fuck up, you’re not performing this spell! one of us could DIE!” you exclaimed.

“there’s the word fuck again. kinda catchy.” donghyuck tested it out under his breath. “any other new words?” he asked. jaemin opened his mouth, no doubt to actually teach donghyuck how to swear, and well, you weren’t exactly opposed to letting him, but not dying came higher than teaching people you just met how to swear on your priority list.

“don’t worry. there’s only a slight chance that you’re soulmates anyway, and it’s better to know than to remain in oblivion. i’m not kidding.” “ignorance is bliss?” you suggested, desperate to stop donghyuck. “no, y/n. i think… if we indeed are soulmates, we deserve to know. i want to at least know why i died if i do suddenly die.”

“i have heard of that saying, y/n, was it? say, can fuck be used as a noun, a verb or an adjective?” “any way you want,” jaemin grinned, “reality can be anything you wish it to be!” “sweet,” donghyuck plonked a cauldron of unknown origin onto the table, “i like that word already.”

pulling a ladle out of seemingly nowhere, donghyuck pointed said ladle at you, “what’s your favourite flower?” you stared at him blankly, “you need that for the spell? i don’t really have a preference.” donghyuck rolled his eyes, “no, i was just curious. if you’re interested, your aura says daisy and jaemin’s absolutely screams carnations. for the record, i have zero idea what those flowers mean, but who cares?” he waved an arm over the cauldron which then proceeded to bubble, pushing dandelions and carnations to the surface. white. all white. “pretty enough, i suppose. i don’t usually give my services discounted, so you can just teach me some new words and it’s a deal.”

as you thought back, you did have a small memory of making flower crowns with jaemin. you often made daisy crowns, while jaemin’s were, as far as you knew, carnations. they were always given to you, all his carnation-based flower accessories: crowns, necklaces, bracelets.

you were jerked back to the present and away from distant memories as jaemin helpfully, or not so helpfully, instructed donghyuck on how to swear, “so, motherfucker is a noun. the verb equivalent is motherfucking, but that’s usually used as an adjective anyway. can also be shortened to mf. bitch is a more female-specific curse word since its original meaning was something along the lines of female dog.”

“i thought dogs were nice,” donghyuck pointed a finger aggressively at the bubbling liquid inside the cauldron, flowers obscuring most of its contents, “this always takes way too fucking long to boil so i can’t do anything. how perfectly bitchy of it.” jaemin’s face lit up with that mischievous smile you were so used to, “you’re a natural!” “why, thank you.” you had to be imagining things. either that, or your ears were waterlogged. shaking your head wildly, all you got was a headache, so no, your ears weren’t waterlogged. and so the two boys before you were complimenting each other casually on their ability to swear, even as one’s existence was against the law and the other was the prince of your kingdom. because that was not… strange. not strange at all.

“why don’t you teach him things like crap, hell and damn? why… fuck and bitch?” donghyuck had settled into an armchair by the fire, snapping his fingers every minute or so to keep the cauldron’s contents boiling, “you want to learn the interesting shit. like, you know, if i can learn shit and motherfucker then why am i learning crap and hell and damn? they sound lame compared to bitch, fuck and shit.” donghyuck shrugged, you sighed, and jaemin nodded like he’d birthed and raised donghyuck for seventeen years just for this moment.

“i mean, my parents don’t let me curse, but it’s fun to see them mad sometimes.” jaemin shrugged. you shook your head at the boy next to you (we shall omit the fact that he learnt half his curse words from you, and the other half from the legendary crown prince’s speech in which he accidentally swore half a dozen times in front of the whole nation. doyoung got grounded, but it made jaemin, and by extension you, developed a heck of a lot more respect for him.) you watched quietly as the two boys exchanged details about their lives and excitedly swore together. unconsciously, you started shivering again, your clothes still not quite dry. jaemin noticed, and picked up the blanket laid across his lap, wrapping it around your shoulders, making sure the blanket was secure around you before turning back to donghyuck. you learnt he also liked to be called haechan or hyuck, lived out here all his life, and didn’t know much about the kingdom from having to stay hidden from the world. jaemin’s expression held a hint of guilt, knowing that he was a member of the family that had caused huyck's plight.

“ooh! the spell is done!” hyuck clapped, and scrambled to his feet, once again doing the weird shrug thing, skipping over to the cauldron. his hair bounced and jaemin snickered while you quieted him. you shrank back into the couch as the sounds from the caldron became louder and donghyuck’s eyes started to sparkle. jaemin grabbed your hand, palms slightly sweaty. donghyuck peered into the large metal bowl, and smiled. his smile made you a bit uneasy.

“ready?” he asked the two of you, and jaemin nodded while you hesitated.

“yes.”

nothing happened for a moment and haechan waved his hands over the flower-filled water, mumbling some ancient words. you watched, eyes wide, as the water came out in a stream, winding around the circumference of the small cottage, and then around you and jaemin’s hands. you gasped, as the water was ice cold though it was boiling just moments ago. a daisy settled on jaemins wrist, wrapping around it tightly. a carnation wrapped around your finger, like it’s own special promise to you. jaemin frowned.

“is that supposed to mean something?” he asked, tugging at the flower. it didn’t move or tear. haechan eyes doubled in size as his eyes zeroed in on the flowers.

“you’re… you’re soulmates.”

jaemin stood there in shock, and shook his head. “no way. we’re best friends.” he protested. your heart was slightly crushed, as you liked him for a few months now. who wouldn’t? “we can’t be soulmates. no way.” he shook his head again, as if to clear away the water clogging his ears. you let go of jaemin’s hand. your heart was hammering, matching the raindrops that pelted to the ground.

“are.. are you sure?” you asked, voice wavering. haechan nodded. your hands were shaking now, and jaemin was ignoring you. “can i… may i lie down?” you asked, twirling a finger around your long strands of hair. donghyuck nodded, pointing you to what you assumed to be his room. as you slipped off, you heard jaemin and donghyuck whisper something together.

the next few days you didn’t see much of jaemin, only when he came out of the library to get food. even those days were rare, as he often ate in there, or brought his lunch in during the morning. and each day, jaemins face looked more and more pale. the flowers had vanished, though they left marks on where they rested just a week ago. you cast a glance down the empty hallway to the library, feet hesitating. you made up your mind, pushing open the large oak doors and… found jaemin passed out on the ground.

you gasped, rushing over and checking his temperature. it was abnormally normal, though he was sweating. you called a maid over, and soon you found yourself in the hospital wing. how were you going to break it to his parents that their younger son was sick because you two were soulmates. the thought itself was ridiculous.

“is jaemin okay?” well, fuck you, he’s obviously not. an undertone of worry was detected from the trained calmness of doyoung’s voice. the king and queen had yet to arrive, and doyoung stood behind you, hand resting on your shoulder in a slightly failed attempt to calm you. quick breaths left you, panic filling your mind and cluttering your lungs. the crown prince patted at your shoulder awkwardly, turning to leave as he couldn’t really do much. besides, it was fairly obvious the two of you needed to be alone.

as the day faded into night, jaemin was still, not moving as you watched him, hands grasping at your hair. this was all your fault. no, it was that bitch of a witch named donghyuck. he cast the spell. you wanted to blame jaemin for not accepting that you were soulmates, and now he was going to die because of it.

obviously, you hadn’t had a soulmate before. but you could sense it, you knew that no matter what jaemin had done, you wouldn’t be able to stay mad at him. to love so hard you’re falling, but you know you’re flying. you’re not there yet, definitely not. there was an inkling of the possibility of that happening, though. you barely blamed jaemin for everything (which was mostly his fault anyway), and staring at the pale complexion of the boy in front of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to stay angry. you slipped your hand into his (see? can’t help it. this was all because you were soulmates, and totally not because you just wanted to.), and as storybook-esque as it was, it felt so right. a maid brought you dinner, but you couldn’t bring yourself to scoop the rice and noodles into your mouth. your stomach was protesting, but you didn’t care, resting your head on your arm, you clutched jaemin’s hand tightly. tears pricked at your eyes, and this time, you didn’t stop them.

doyoung came by again in the morning and found you awake, dark blue and purple eyebags obnoxiously present. “have you been here the whole night?” you stretched, not letting go of jaemins limp hand, back aching from the uncomfortable position you were in for the whole night.

“is there a wrong answer?” you asked, yawning as you spoke. doyoung sighed, rubbing at his temples.

“he’ll survive, y/n. it’s just sickness. we have the best doctor-”

“it’s not just a sickness!” you snapped, fire igniting in your stomach, the need to protect haechan slowly shrinking. you found yourself telling the oldest prince everything from getting caught in the rain, jaemin having a breakdown, the walk in the woods, to finding the cottage, and even the witch you encountered, though his existence was very much illegal. doyoung listened. he listened to every word, and nodded along, though his eyes were slowly going from panicked to angry.

“so, you found a witch, donghyuck, was it?” you nodded in confirmation, death gripping jaemin’'s hand. if he ever woke up he would for sure scold you for making his dominant hand ache. “he cast a soulmate spell, and jaemin didn’t accept. so now the gods are punishing him?” you nodded again. doyoung sighed, rubbing at his temples again. you watched anxiously, worried for donghyuck’s safety.

“could you get donghyuck to come here?” doyoung asked. that is not what you were expecting. blinking nervously, you nodded. you remembered the path jaemin took, right? if not, you could just shout.

“do you promise not to kill him? or like, arrest him? he’s an annoying motherfucker, but i think jaemin would be sad if you did,” you inhaled. doyoung nodded with a perfectly straight face. “he could turn you into a frog.” you added, deciding to trust him. doyoung looked a bit shocked, but you reluctantly stood up. “i’ll be back.” you whispered to jaemin, leaving doyoung to look after his brother.

setting off in the woods alone was scarier than you thought. shivering, you really wished you had jaemin in that moment. really wished. the sooner you got to donghyuck, the sooner he would be better, right? wrong.

“what do you mean you can’t remove the spell?” you shrieked, panic filling you once again. donghyuck looked sorrowful, and doyoung was standing with his arms crossed off in the corner.

“i can’t, i’m sorry, y/n. jaemin has to realize he loves you for the sickness to go away. and either way, all my spell did was prove that the two of you were soulmates. the sickness stems from the heavens”

“i have to what?” jaemin’s voice cracked slightly from not using it for the past few days. “jaemin!” you practically sobbed, hand clenching around his fingers from where you’d reached for them unknowingly. he squeezed back weakly, coughing. “what do i have to do?”

“realize you love y/n.” haechan said simply.

“i don’t think it works like that!” your voice came out slightly higher than usual, laughing nervously to stop jaemin from feeling uncomfortable. he had to, love didn’t work as such. you just didn’t decide to go, ‘okay today i have decided i love y/n!’ jaemin looked at donghyuck with visible confusion. all haechan offered was a half shrug in return.

“what happens if i don’t?” jaemin whispered. haechan glanced at doyoung, nervous that someone so high and regal was standing in the same room as him - jaemin didn’t count, seeing as he’d spent the first hour of knowing hyuck teaching him to swear, and he wasn’t the crown prince anyway - if he did or said the wrong thing, he would definitely get executed.

“we’ll get there when we get there. how long does he have?” doyoung asked. you gripped jaemin’s hand tighter, nervous of the answer. “it… depends?” donghyuck offered. doyoung scowled. “very helpful.” “i’m sorry, i’ve never had to deal with this kind of fuckery before,” donghyuck waved his hands around, “okay, swear i’m not doing magic, but i really didn’t cause any of this. okay. maybe a bit. but it would have happened anyways.” your eyebrow lifted.

“what do you mean, anyways?” jaemin asked, frowning.

“the soulmate spell only helps the soulmates find each other. and gets the show on quicker, but a year from now, the same thing would’ve happened.” haechan explained, still waving a hand. doyoung’s eyebrows knitted together. “so, jaemin and y/n should spend as much time together as they can.” hyuck concluded.

“and die faster?” jaemin snarled. haechan shook his head quickly, eyes straying to the other royal member in the room.

“no, if you spend more time together, then it’ll slow down until you realise you’re in love. usually, you get only a week, but if you spend every day together, it’s up to… a month?” haechan shrugged, letting the slightest hint of resentment slip into his voice, “maybe i’d know better if i actually could come out of hiding to be taught by more experienced witches. my work here seems to be done anyway, adios!” it was like donghyuck was born to be a showman. he ripped the curtains off and disappeared under them with a flash, letting the rich fabric settle slowly to the ground. doyoung sighed.

“well, you guys heard what he said. spend as much time together as you can.” doyoung shrugged. “and jaemin, try not to die.” doyoung added, a small smile playing at his lips, like he knew something you didn’t. jaemin nodded, head thrown back onto the plush pillows. you frowned, jaemin usually loved to hang out with you. something definitely changed over the last few weeks.

try not to die, he said. well, you were definitely dying inside. and jaemin wasn’t getting any better, coughing, occasional throwing up, and sneezing. he barely could keep his food down, let alone sit up without any help. it worried you. it worried you a lot more than you let on. to say things were awkward was putting it lightly. everyone avoided the two of you, seeing the tension held over your and jaemin’s heads. you started to get fed up after a few days.

“what happened? aren’t you supposed to be with jaemin?” doyoung asked as you stormed downstairs.

“he’s not talking to me. what’s the harm in taking a small break?” you exhaled, running a hand through your now messy hair. doyoung frowned, the worry lines creasing his forehead. “don’t worry, i’m going back to the ward in half an hour. it’s just so… infuriating.” you ranted to the crown prince, resting your head on the stairwell railing. doyoung had stopped you half way down the stairs. “we’re soulmates for god's sake! can’t he just… talk to me? when did he start to see me as a bother? when did he… start to hate me? it’s like we never were friends. i miss him, doyoung. i miss my best friend. i miss his smile, his laugh, his weird antics, i miss my jaemin.” you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes for the third time today. jaemin being sick and ignoring you while, quite literally, on his deathbed did not help. especially since you two were soulmates.

“when did you start to fall in love with him?” doyoung questioned softly. you thought for a moment. when did you truely start to love jaemin? not in the rain. not when you had your first fight when you saw him. no, it started a while ago. when jaemin started to grow up. when you stopped making flower jewelry and when he started to give you real gems. when? you weren’t exactly sure. maybe you always loved him. maybe he always loved you. but when would he figure that out? doyoung just nodded, understanding your confused gaze, unfocused and misty-eyed. he stood up, brushing his black slacks and deep red shirt. “give him a bit. jaemin is a bit slow with these kinds of things.” you only nodded in response, mindlessly walking back to the ward jaemin was residing in.

jaemin still was not getting any better the next few days. he still refused to talk to you, only nodding or rolling his eyes as a response to you trying to start to converse. you were starting to lose hope.

you were surprised to see him lying on the cold tiled ground.

“jaemin, why are you on the ground? you should be in bed. it’s cold out.” you scolded, moving towards him. jaemin held up a hand, draping his hands over his stomach.

“the floor is nice and cold,” he uttered, sighing with relief as the tile cooled his sweaty body down. you frowned, huffing. jaemin, once again, did not listen.

“the ground is dirty. i can turn down the heat-” jaemin cut you off.

“shut up! i’m dying, i don’t care if the ground is dirty!” jaemin hissed, and you backed up, saddened by his tone. jaemin didn’t notice, too busy coughing into his elbow to notice your state.

“you’re not going to die,” you whispered, and jaemin moved his elbow away. “you’re not. i refuse to let you. i don’t care if you don’t love me right now, but you’re my soulmate, jaemin. soulmate. do you know how many people wish to have soulmates? jaemin, i’ve been by your side since we were in diapers. we played in the mud together. we got in trouble together. we did everything together, jaemin. i watched you grow up. i watched you become more responsible. i watched, and i waited for you to confess. but you never did, so now you’re sick, and it’s all your fault. don’t push the blame on me, on donghyuck, or on anyone. this is on you. if you want to sit here and wallow in your self-pity, go ahead. i’m tired, jaemin. i tried to give you time, but you only have three weeks left. i don’t…” you choked on your words. “i don’t know what i’ll do if you ever die suddenly.” you whispered, backing out of the door. jaemin struggled to his feet, but you were already gone, ends of your hair and dress flowing behind you.

he stared at the empty spot where you’d been just moments before, feeling the same emptiness in his heart. bitterness welled up from within him. he wasn’t that dumb either, but love just didn’t work that way. just because some spell told you that you were soulmates didn’t necessarily mean that with a magical click of your fingers you’d stare into each others eyes and sappily declare your everlasting love.

doyoung stepped out from nowhere, looking around with a confused expression, “where’s y/n? i swear i saw her here just a few minutes ago.”

“hey, hyung.” doyoung hummed in response. jaemin sat up with some difficulty, holding a hand up to stop doyoung from trying to help him, “what if this sickness has got nothing to do with the soulmate fuckery? what if i just, uh, have the plague or something?”

“have the plague or something,” doyoung drawled sarcastically, “the last time the plague was going around was, like, a hundred years ago.” jaemin winced.

“or maybe i have cancer.”

“or maybe,” doyoung narrowed his eyes at his brother, “you’re just being a fatheaded dick who can’t come to terms with the fact that you’re soulmates with your best friend, and have to realise your love for each other so you don’t suddenly stop breathing!” doyoung stalked out of the room without a single word, pausing to seemingly contemplate whether slamming the (very heavy) oak door would help prove his point. he very intelligently settled on just stamping his foot. it made him look like a child, but jaemin hadn’t seen doyoung this upset in a while. and frankly, it got him thinking a bit.

you walked into the hospital wing as usual without greeting jaemin. it wasn’t like you got a reply anyway. “hey,” the prince offered as you took up your usual spot by his bed with a book, a clear indication that you didn’t want conversation.

your eyebrows twitched a little. granted, you weren’t expecting him to say anything, but it must be a testament to your friendship if your little blow up had at least gotten jaemin to think a little. you stared pointedly down at the book you didn’t even know the title of.

“y/n.” still no response. “you’re holding the book upside down,” jaemin sighed.

furious with yourself, you flipped the book the right side up again, “you don’t want to talk to me. stop forcing yourself to.”

“i do want to talk to you, okay? i don’t particularly want to die either, the soulmates idea is just hard to stomach.”

“what, does loving me sound so bad? am i so unlovable?” you slammed your book closed, trying not to choke on the shower of dust that came with it. logically, you shouldn’t be getting mad. jaemin was just trying to make things better, but he sounded so forced. “you sound so forced to do this, jaemin.”

“oh, are you getting mad at me now? you were sad because i wasn’t talking to you, and now you’re mad because i am! what the fuck am i supposed to do?” jaemin glared at you from underneath the covers, “i’m trying, okay? i thought you said you didn’t want me to die!”

“i don’t want you to die!” you hissed back at him, tears springing to your eyes again.

“are you crying again? if every time we talk you get that sad, then maybe you should just let me die!”

you dusted yourself off and ran out of the room, not even bothering to give jaemin an answer. why didn’t he get it? it’s not that hard to understand! (when else but) on your way out, you bumped into (who else but) doyoung, crying (what else but) angry tears. again. you really had to stop doing that.

to nobody in particular, doyoung whispered, “why are they so angsty?”

“we need to talk,” doyoung declared the moment he walked into the room in one of the pockets of time that you weren’t in it. jaemin looked up from the extremely interesting loose thread on his blanket and nodded, “what about?”

“y/n.”

jaemin’s expression darkened in a nanosecond. “no,” he practically growled, “not her again. i can figure this out myself, doyoung hyung! you don’t have to help me.”

“if you can figure this out yourself, the two of you wouldn’t be the embodiment of every sad angsty book ever written.”

“it’s our way of coping with things.” the words sounded fake even to jaemin’s own ears.

“no,” doyoung deadpanned, “don’t fuck around with me.” he hissed, “you know she cries every time you give her unwanted insults. let’s count how many times i ran into her, sometimes quite literally, in the hallway with her crying. one, the day you two got lost in the woods. two, when you were passed out and unresponsive, three, a few days after you woke up and weren’t talking to her, four, literally yesterday after you basically told her she was unlovable.” doyoung held up his fingers mockingly and it felt like jaemin had just been slapped in the face. “four times, na jaemin. four times you fucked up, four times y/n felt worthless, four times more than needed. four times. thats more than anything that happened in the last 16 years of your friendship. four times in less than a month. get your shit together, jaemin.” doyoung snapped, and spun around on his heel. jaemin felt like everyone was against him at this point.

a week passes and hey, what did you know? some improvement was showing. you and jaemin could hold, an (albeit very awkward, but still) a conversation. it was a relief to you, but you were slightly suspicious of him. jaemin still couldn’t look you in the eyes, glancing away or inspecting his nails. but you couldn’t ask anymore of him, he went from straight out ignoring you, to asking how your day went. jaemin sent you a small smile, fiddling in his seat.

“how… how are you?” jaemin asked, glancing at your features shyly. you smiled, though it felt more forced than genuine.

“i’m good. have you been getting better?”

“well, you know. not really,” jaemin shrugged, not looking at you, “it hasn’t been getting worse either, though.”

you ignored the way jaemin was pointedly avoiding your gaze and offered a half smile you didn't really mean, “the weather isn’t very good today, is it?” the weather hadn’t been really good for the past week or so. even if you weren’t spending every waking (and sleeping) moment by jaemin’s side, you wouldn’t have been able to go out of the castle. the relentless rain pouring down on the windows made sure of that.

“y/n, i still think we have to talk.” jaemin’s expression turned serious, “i know i’ve been a dick these few weeks, and i’m not even going to try excusing myself for that. but i want you to know that no matter what, i still treasure you a lot as my best friend. i think i just need time - okay, admittedly we haven’t got very much of that left, about a week and a half or so, but i struggle with feelings. i really struggle a lot and it’s overwhelming and i miss you so much, i miss talking to you not-awkwardly and i want our old relationship back.”

you promised yourself you weren’t going to cry again, because god knows you’ve cried too much. “okay then,” you laughed lightly, “if you’re going to make this a deep sentimental talk, just know that i’m willing to wait for you for as long as you need. sadly this isn’t up to me.”

jaemin remained silent for a bit, taking in what you just said. when he spoke again, you were shocked. “do you think i love you?”

you cocked your head, “what i think doesn’t matter. the question is what do you think?”

“i want to know what you think.”

knowing he wasn’t going to let you go until you told him so, you sighed, “i think you do.”

“platonically or romantically?”

“my father wants my help in the kitchens, your highness. i’ll see you later.”

it was raining again, and you didn’t show up in his room like normal. jaemin was worried, and he got out of his bed clumsily, grabbing a cane, which he winced at. he looked like an old man with it. drawing back the heavy velvet curtains, the glass of his widow was covered in water droplets, all racing to the window sill. jaemin spotted you running around the courtyard, mouth open with a muted laugh and eyes sparkling even though you were soaked to the skin. jaemin found himself smiling, watching you with fond eyes. his senses kicked in, and he realized. he was truly, and utterly, with every fiber of his being, every cell in his body, in love with you. with his best friend. with the person who stuck by him all these years. who loved all his flaws and imperfections. he, na jaemin, second prince in line, never to sit on the throne (he didn’t mind that part), was in love with you. a cook's daughter, a commoner, but most importantly, his soulmate.

when you came inside, your teeth were chattering and you were shivering all over, but it was the happiest you’d felt in a while. nothing was better than dancing in the rain, really, except dancing in the rain with jaemin. that now… that was a hundred times better, but na jaemin was sick, so you’d have to forgo that. practically waltzing into jaemin’s room, you grinned at him, your good mood making you forget all the awkwardness. he was just your best friend, your best friend of so many years. awkwardness who?

“jaems!” it might have been the prior realization of love making jaemin completely disregard any tension that might have been between the two of you earlier, but he grinned back at you just as happily as you’d greeted him, “y/n!” he frowned, pretending he hadn’t been watching you from his window just a few minutes prior because that was borderline creepy, “why are you all wet?”

“i danced in the rain. oh god, jaemin, do you remember that time when we were dancing together in the rain and then decided to use a banana leaf as an umbrella but we got wet anyway? and then-”

“and then,” jaemin picked up seamlessly from where you left off, the grin not disappearing, “doyoung hyung came to check on us because he was scared we’d catch colds from running around in the rain all day. then we slipped and fell into the mud, splashing him all over.”

you laughed, a light tinkling sound that reminded jaemin again of why he loved you, “i swear the mud mask made his skin better.”

jaemin practically screeched with laughter, “you mean you’ve been looking at my brother’s skin?”

the overwhelming love and affection you felt for your best friend in that moment, both platonically and romantically, made you throw your arms around him, instantly soaking him through with your wet clothes. somehow, the two of you ended up sprawled on his bed.

“you know what? i love you.” jaemin sighed, snuggling into your embrace. your ears burned red.

“you.. you what?” you asked timidly. you really hoped jaemin said what you thought he said. jaemin smiled, leaning back more, adjusting the position the two of you were in. you now were snuggled into his chest, sighing as you felt your eyelids droop. jaemin chuckled lowly, and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll be here when you wake up.” he whispered softly. you fell asleep, mind calm for once.

“jaemin- okay, you can explain why y/n’s soaking your bedsheets through and the both of you are completely drenched in rainwater first,” doyoung arched an eyebrow, “have y’all finally gotten your shit together?”

“i think i love her, hyung,” jaemin’s arm curled protectively around you, “really.”

doyoung clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval, “you think? be sure of it, jaems. i’ve practically raised the two of you and watched you grow up, and now you say you only think you love her?”

“i love her.” jaemin struggled to hold back the laugh that was threatening to spill out of his chest. “i love her!” he repeated again, louder this time. seeing the finger doyoung had to his lips, he quietened down to prevent waking you up, “thank you, hyung. for knocking some sense into me.”

doyoung smiled, “anytime. it’s my job, after all. now, i think you two need some alone time. see you at dinner, i truly doubt you’ll still be sick.”

you were awakened by the sound of the door closing. rubbing your eyes tiredly, you looked around, disoriented, “did someone come in?”

“it’s nothing, y/n. just a servant. sleep, i love you.”

you yawned, “i love you too.” and you snuggled back under the covers with him, acting like it was the most natural thing to do in the world.

“hey,” jaemin whispered in your ear, waking you up gently, “i hate to have to wake you up, but dinner’s in a few. my parents want to see you too, apparently.”

you blinked the sleep away from your eyes, looking at his smiling face. waking up to jaemin’s smile was something you could get used to, you thought. “what?”

“i said, we have to go get ready for dinner. you too, yes, main banquet hall, my parents want to see you.”

your mouth dropped open, all thoughts of sleep gone, “i don’t have clothes suitable for a fancy dinner!”

“oh yes you do. wear that yellow dress with the sunflowers.”

“is that formal enough?”

“y/n, like, you’ve literally talked to my parents so many times. they watched you grow up. they’re not so different from doyoung and i.”

“but this is the first time meeting them as your girlfriend!” oh god, did you really just say that? you cringed inwardly. you hadn’t even put a label on the relationship yet. rushing to make amends, you stuttered out, “soulmate. i mean soulmate.”

“you’ve always been my soulmate. as for girlfriend, well, you can be if you want to, but we have explaining to do. now move! the entire bed is wet!”

with strength a sick person shouldn’t possess, jaemin threw you out of his bed playfully. you looked up in shock and happiness, “you’re well again! you’re not sick anymore!”

jaemin grinned down at you from his bed, “we realised our love. see you in twenty, adios, au revoir, zaijian, sayonara!” yelling at the top of his lungs, he pushed you out of his room and slammed the door, and you honestly couldn’t care less. you were flying (figuratively, of course), drunk on the sentiments of finally realising your feelings for your best friend and soulmate.

growing up in the castle had taught you some things about manners, especially when the queen insisted you attend some etiquette lessons together with jaemin (to keep him in check, she’d said). dropping into a deep curtsey in front of the royal family, you rose again when the king placed a warm hand on your shoulder, “get up, y/n. we’re all family here, there’s not need for such formalities. you never really did those before either.”

“i was eight and didn’t know much about manners,” you protested lightly as he steered you into your seat beside jaemin, then taking his own at the head of the table - the king’s seat.

you ate in silence and as fast as you could without being rude. nobody made a move to break the silence, so you sat and waited until the last of the plates had been cleared away by the servants, then leaned forward, “if it isn’t rude to ask, may i know why i’ve suddenly been called here for dinner?”

the queen smiled kindly at you, “of course not, dear. well, today we have two announcements to make, one of which concerns you.” she glanced at the king, who inclined his head at her with a smile as if to say “the floor is all yours, dear.” the queen turned back to you, and seeing the dying rays of last light hit her face, you were again reminded of how beautiful the queen was. “firstly, about doyoung. now, we all know that my dear son here is turning twenty one in a month’s time and has finished his education. and so, doyoung, my son, your father has decided to pass on the kingdom to you. the announcement to the people will happen in a few days’ time, if you agree, and the coronation shall be held on your birthday. you are a much beloved crown prince, and i am sure the news of your coronation will delight the kingdom. i do hope you accept. so,” she practically glowed with pride, staring at the shell-shocked prince, “do you?”

“it would be an honor, mother. but didn’t father say he enjoyed being king?” doyoung, the rightful heir to the throne and the one who’d been trained for this his entire life, looked shocked, to say the least. you couldn’t blame him; it must’ve felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

“your mother and i have long been dreaming of a proper honeymoon in the carribean. away from the eyes of the public,” his father’s voice boomed encouragingly.

“then yes, i accept,” doyoung’s eyes were shining with tears and you really hoped he wasn’t about to cry. knowing him, once he started crying, he wouldn’t stop and that would really… kill the mood.

“cheers to king doyoung,” jaemin raised his glass of juice (seventeen is not of a legal age to consume alcohol) to the sky, looking elated for his brother, “and for heaven’s sake, king doyoung, don’t cry!”

doyoung sniffled a little, holding his own goblet of wine to his brother’s, “i won’t cry! thank you so much!”

“congratulations,” you grinned at doyoung, who’d been just as much your elder brother all these years as he’d been jaemin’s. just in the past month, he’d slapped the two of you so hard to get your shit together, and he should honestly be crowned fairy godmother of the year. except that he wasn’t old, didn’t have white hair pulled up into a bun, and (sadly) didn’t own wings.

“now for our second announcement. doyoung’s explained everything to us already, i hope you don’t mind.” doyoung grinned guiltily at you over the table - honestly! like he’d done anything wrong! “you’re obviously too young for marriage, but y/n, your parents, whom i’ve just talked to, and us - we give you all our blessings. let this relationship prosper!”

jaemin squeezed your hand in his assuringly with a victorious smile like he’d known all along that this would’ve happened. you choked back a sob of your own, “thank you! thank you so much.”

“we’ve never known that soulmates existed, but now that we do know, there isn’t a truer pair than you and y/n,” she addressed jaemin, “treat her well.”

“i swear, mother, you love her more than you love me,” jaemin half-groaned, ignoring his mother’s angelic smile and reply (“i do not! i merely prefer to be around her.”)

“to the new king and couple!” jaemin’s father raised his goblet for another cheer, and you downed your drink in one gulp. tilting your head to grin at jaemin, you thought there really couldn’t be any happier moment in the world.

©danishmiilk, 2020. ©astroboy-lele, 2020.

#kdinerdanceoff20 #neowritingsnet #nct-writers #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct angst #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream x reader #nct dream #nct #na jaemin #jaemin

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batarella · 3 years

Text

3 birds 1 stone - RED

Never has he smiled for so many days, happiness without condition, love so pure, a life that no longer was filled of days he’d have to survive, and was now a life he wanted remember, love, and live.

WORDS: 7791 WARNINGS: Sexual Content, Mentions of Trauma

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | BLUE | YELLOW

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“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

- Great Expectations, Charles Dickens

You:

“Y/N?”

On peaceful days should there be chaos to be expected. With peace does not come promise. A flower with blooming red petals would eventually wilt, despite all else telling it not to. That same blooming flower would die the same from other natural, unnatural causes, like a wind too strong for it to hold onto its stem or a butterfly that came too late for its pollen.

But when peace was current, something you could see right before you knowing it wasn’t to last, it wasn’t much because of the artist you were why you’d resort to capturing that peace onto your canvas and make it last forever.

Two artists, that was. Someone joined you in your endeavor that day. Not so much of a student as he were a companion. An equal, perhaps.

Damian didn’t let his squinting eyes from where he placed the tiniest round brush on, the fabric that turned blue at his touch. You merely hummed at his call of your name and didn’t look to him as well.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Two easels set up at the manor’s back porch angled just right for most of the city skyline to be seen. It was far too small to be the focus, but everything else, the valleys that surrounded it, the actual forests going against the concrete ones, if you managed to get it right, you might want to keep this one for yourself.

Your thoughts complete left all that matter, however, when Damian asked you, “It’s a question about sex. More than one actually.”

“Oh.”

Not what you thought.

You might have had a lymph node in your neck, but still you nodded.

“Alright then. What do you want to know?”

He was painting the clouds. Didn’t even look the slightest bit uncomfortable. Good, you guessed.

“How old am I supposed to be before having it?”

Some wordless mutter rolled out your tongue at that. Eventually, the answer just came right out of you.

“Other than being of age, it really depends if you’re emotionally ready for it, Damian. If you know you’re not ready, nothing should push you to do it.”

“How do I know when I’m ready?”

That same calmness, the one that steadied your often shaking hands, allowed you to create the perfect cone for one of the hilltops at the horizon. You marveled over it for a while.

“When your doubts are encompassed with everything else,” you said. “When you know about what comes after.”

A dimming yellow sun, over at the far end. It was that sun, you told yourself, that was making those words fall of your lips. And not at all this series of resurfacing memories.

“When you meet the right person,” you told him.

You saw from your side eye how that remark made Damian stop with his brush. He set it onto its holder, placed his hands on his knees. “Other people don’t wait for that last one,” he said. “Do they?”

“It’s always different for a lot of people. Sometimes, they could only ever do it with people they love. Sometimes, it doesn’t even matter.”

“When I have sex with someo-“

You gave him a dirty look.

“When I’m a lot older,” he scoffed. “And I want to engage in the act of coitus.”

“Coitus?”

“How do I know they’re right? They’re the right person at that moment, then suddenly the next, they’re not.”

You reached over his easel to grab his brush, handing it back as you pointed at a raven that landed on one of the trees. It urged him to continue.

“You ask yourself then. If things won’t go the way you’d have wanted with that someone, would you regret ever doing it with them at all?”

“Obviously,” he snorted. “I wouldn’t want to waste my time.”

A bright smile, just as you settled the green of the wilting grass. Not so much was it green as it were this brownish orange, with it still cold enough for you to wear a sweater this uncomfortable when you’d have wanted your hands free.

“Is it really this…” he did some kind of motion with his hands. “…milestone in your life that’s supposed to be so important?”

“Wow, you’re really asking the right questions here, kid.”

That nickname made him snarl, back to his canvas. It took you a while, having to look to the sky for some kind of answer that wasn’t going to mess his head for the rest of his life.

“I used to think it wasn’t,” you said. “Sometimes, it’s only as important as you make it. It’s all up to what you believe.”

You turned your brush over just the right circle, which made of the red petals of a rose on one of the bushes that first greeted the day after months of a long winter.

Then there was this sinking. Something within.

“But your first time, at least. It should be with someone you love,” you said. “You’ll find that a lot of things will be easier for you.”

He seemed satisfied with that. Thankfully. He didn’t look so traumatized just yet.

Then he asked you one that no longer was so easy to think about.

“Was your first time with someone you loved?”

And you thought, with how everything suddenly weighed, not just your head or your hands but the whirring air, the leaves that danced along to it, the flowers still so young into their bloom, the misty clouds, the light, the brush on your hand and the paint on its tip.

What wasn’t so heavy, that is, was your voice.

Because if anything surprised you that day, more than the questions and the apparent peace, was how easily the answer came out of you.

Easy, because it was true.

And it was true, because when you lied, your clammy hands would be stuck to your back, shaking just as much as your eyes would be frantic and searching for something that wasn’t there.

But your voice was as light as your hands were calm and dry, your eyes fixated on the beautiful sight of the city and nothing else.

“Yes,” you said. And with it, came a smile that lasted for days.

Jason:

Two thousand dollars sounded a lot more inviting after a failed drug raid, not so much after the seeing all the evening gowns and diamonds and Bruce using his almighty charm with investors in sharp-needled stilettoes.

He did not, for his own sanity’s sake, want to sit through any of it, not even for a whole inheritance from the enterprise. Nope. Not even ten million dollars was worth putting on this god-awful suit poking through his neck like a knife, a jacket supposed to fit but had popped off one of the buttons, and of course, his hair. Swept back. Ruled over by mounds of gel and whatever it was the rest of his brothers had on. They all looked like elves in a Christmas workshop assembly line with the red tie over his chest.

Whatever trouble would happen, they’d call him. Now that they’ve blocked off his room, however, he came to not much resort.

The manor’s pool, to his luck, was unguarded. Unused for the last few months, but still clean.

Whatever silence was, and whatever silence could be, it was just that when he shut the door behind him, not bothering to latch on the lock, and turned on one of the lights, the purple and blue ones that shone from underneath the pool’s floor, like some magical lake that would speak to him in rhymes, maybe hand him a sword floating on a lily pad, but not even that was enough to impress him. As if anything impresses him still.

He stood by the poolside, hands in his suit pockets. Audibly he cursed that he forgot to bring a cigarette pack, but even that thought didn’t last long enough to bother him too much.

Jason stood there, right by the water, and watched the lights change like they told much of a story.

Something. Anything, to intrigue him.

Anything to make him feel again, to interest him, to cry out to him and actually hold his attention long enough for it to not be whisked away from his mind by his own hands because thinking or feeling was too much work.

But even those very lights, that didn’t seem so bright at all, were silent. The same silence for so many months.

He wanted noise. He wanted to hear again. But nothing, nothing was loud enough for him anymore. Someone could be screaming into his head and so much of it would disperse before it even reaches his ears at all, much less his brain. It wasn’t that he was being dumb, though that would be quite the reason.

But it was that nothing was bright enough anymore.

No one was attractive, or intriguing, or entertaining. Not by a mile.

Nothing. He cared about nothing.

Everything, all except her.

And it had to be just that, no room so bright, no smile so true, then when it was with her.

He hated the truth, perhaps just as much as he hated the rest of the world. The only thing he didn’t hate was someone he couldn’t even be with, much less love. But here he was.

Some noise from the door he came in from. He should have locked it. Now someone else was here.

More so did he wish that when he turned and saw who it was.

“Here?” Y/N’s shoes against the empty ground. That, he heard. Fuck him. “Really?”

“They closed off my room.”

She looked really pretty, lipstick on her already red lips, jumpsuit dragging along the tiles and her hair down her back. And she didn’t stop walking until she was right by his side, much to his dismay. Still, he didn’t move. Though god forbid he allow himself another look after the first one.

“You’re just gonna stand here and stare at the water?”

“Better than that shitshow outside.”

“Every party’s a shitshow for you.”

“Finally, one of you caught on.” He shifted his arms as if he had a drink he was holding, which he didn’t. He needed one badly.

“Then why accept the job?” she shrugged. “You could have just said no.”

He didn’t expect her to look at the water like it were at all interesting.

But suddenly, the lights from underneath didn’t seem so dull anymore.

Because even having to swim through the lavas of literal hell, I’d leave the comforts of isolation if it means you’d be anywhere within the room.

“Two thousand dollars,” he said.

“Ah.”

Everything did get easier to understand, once he stopped with the moping and the denial and actually allowed that stupid little voice he hated to speak up loud enough so he’d listen to it.

“Maybe you’re right,” she laughed. “The water actually is a lot more interesting.”

Right then, he allowed himself a second, subtle look. At her face. The thin straps over her shoulders that laid so well against her skin. Her hair she’d purposely made unruly but still styled enough to be classy.

The next thing to notice were her hands. They weren’t shaking, though they weren’t unmoving either. Her thumbs were rubbing over the backs of her palms, much like fidgeting her fingers would as if she were nervous. But there shouldn’t be anything to be nervous about. Nothing he could see, at that.

But after a look at her hands, it was her eyes that told him the whole story of her trailing thoughts, thoughts that maybe she didn’t know about as well.

Three years since she’s last stepped into a pool, since she’s felt that much water around her, dance along every bit of her skin when she’d push through the waves and move about as if she were floating, or flying, suspended from the ground and not have a string to hold her up.

She wanted to. He could see that. But it was doubtful that she’d admit to that. She’d never admit to that, not when it would only cause so much disappointment when she’ll ultimately cower away.

But her wanting to swim made him want to swim.

Some first step. To have someone to help her. He could be that someone.

Not even thinking for himself anymore. Jason was off to the benches at the side, and had taken off his tie and slid it off his neck.

“What are you doing?” she asked, just as he took off his suit jacket.

“I’m going in.”

She looked at him like she would to a troll that had climbed out of the sewers, though it wasn’t much out of disgust as it would be of disbelief. At least, he hoped it was. That wasn’t even to matter. He’d taken off his dress shirt before he even realized what he was doing at all.

Not something he’d do so suddenly, but then again, some of the most stupid things he’s ever done the past year were all for her sake. This didn’t surprise him at the least, not even the fact that the more rational part of him was watching him move like some hamster in a wheel stupidly trying to run away.

“You’re gonna swim?”

He unbuckled his belt. “Mind turning around?”

Her eyes flashed wide open, and she did as told.

Jason took off his pants, his shoes, everything save for his boxers. This wasn’t so stupid. It shouldn’t be.

He stepped into the pool, one foot first, then he slid in. He wanted to feel the cold. He wanted it to go against his heat and make him feel something and actually overwhelm him. And it was just that, that very feeling he’d long craved, when he spread his arms and let the water seep into his flesh.

Then he found himself smiling, just as he looked up and caught Y/N watching him do all that, lips between her teeth and beaming back so wonderfully bright, every part of him ached for that sight to last so much longer.

He sat back, waved through the water, inviting her even when he wasn’t asking her, telling her that this is all okay, that she was ready.

A million voices were screaming at him that none of this added up to just about every thought he could muster, that it wasn’t in him to just jump into the water, half naked and alone with the woman he loved. So many asking him what the hell he was doing, that all this was going to scare her away.

But it was, in fact, in him to know what went on in her head, as she longingly looked at the pool like it were so much more than that. It was in him to know that there’s so many more steps in this staircase of healing, to being that very person she’d sought out to be, away from the incident, who she no longer was, and never has been.

Jason swam over to the side of the pool, at the side where she stood.

And with that, a smile so beautiful, she crouched over and set her legs to the side so she could sit on the ground. Her hand was too near from where he laid his arms, but he didn’t reach for it. He just watched as the droplets that fell from his skin onto the ground nipped at her fingers.

“Is it cold?”

His voice was low and husky. “Yeah…”

“Is it nice?”

Jason looked to the wall behind her and laughed. “The water’s great.”

She hummed.

Her hands. Something about them. He couldn’t look away. Like they were so much more than her soft fingers and her gentle touch. With his chin buried onto his folded arms, he kept looking.

Not from her hands that were reluctantly reaching for the water’s surface, shy, bashful even, like it would sting her if she inched too close. Y/N stretched out her fingers and touched it, enough to drench just the tip of it, then she twirled it about to create wonderful ripples that waved to his body.

Jason reached over to hold her wrist, stopped just in case she were to pull away, but she didn’t pull away.

Y/N’s eyes were on him, just as silent and curious, and he felt her relax.

He led her hand further into the water, deeper, colder. He felt the hair on her skin stand, bumps over her pores. She was breathless, over something so small. He pulled gently enough until the water reached up to her elbow.

Then the smile he earned out of her, the love he so wanted to earn as well, it was all he could see, with her toying with the water and swerving it about. Right then, he could hear everything. The droplets that danced, the splashes against their skin, her subtle laughter, her teeth over her lips. He heard it all, and it was beautiful, so much more than songs or tunes played by the most skilled hands over piano keys.

If he could just let himself watch her, for longer than he hoped, he’d fall deeper in love than the depths he’d already fallen into, and had tried, relentlessly, to escape from, but couldn’t. Denial didn’t help much, but neither did admittance. He was stuck. And if only things weren’t so hard, he wouldn’t dare complain. Not when that very woman he loved was this beautiful.

She drew her hand away, her other one soothing the damp skin and ruining her jumpsuit with the water, which she didn’t even care about.

He wasn’t even thinking anymore. His heart open and his mind shut off. From how she sat, her ankle was exposed, and it was close enough to the water to feel the splatters but not enough to get wet.

Still, without a word, Jason cupped his hand, drew a bit of water up to the surface.

Then he played those drops right onto her skin, close to her feet where her shoes were strapped around. She clenched her toes at the cold, but she seemed to have liked it. He did it again, the droplets falling from his fingers, until her skin was stiff from the air so cold with it drenched.

That’s when she sighed, went on to stare at the little waves he’d created.

“I want to go in.”

He backed away from the pool side, waved his arms about to show her further that it was safe, and wonderful. Then he nodded at her. “If you think you’re ready…”

He saw her throat hitch, but it wasn’t out of doubt.

“I’m ready.”

He didn’t even have to try so hard to show her that everything she was going through, right then, he knew every second of what it was like. His face was soft, his look on her was soft, every bit of him had to be soft for this to be easy on her.

Then things weren’t so soft anymore when she started pulling down her straps from her shoulders. He gulped.

“Could you uh,” she twirled her finger around, motioning that he turn the other way. He did.

It was, both to his fortune and of not, that the wall in front of him was a mirror, reflecting all that went on behind his back. Everything in him stopped, even the blood down his every vein, and with that he watched as she exposed her temple of a body, one he’d worshipped and cherished and made feel every ounce of a sensation there could be, and continue to dream about even with her no longer being there.

But she was here now.

You:

The hardest to take off weren’t the straps on your shoes.

But all you ever had to know, was that the one you were with, the one you were hopelessly in love with, was there to help you through all of this.

“Do you, uh,” Jason coughed. “Need some help with that?”

You knew he was watching. If you actually didn’t want him to watch, you would have gone to the other side of the pool and took off your clothes where there wasn’t a mirror in front.

“Yeah,” you said.

As his eyes laid on you, relaxed, calm, just as you remembered he once watched your body so bare, with just a strapless bra over your chest and seamless panties, what contrasted the very cold that stemmed from the water was the burn underneath your flesh, the burn in your chest, the burn on your face and every nerve ending there was. Every nerve ending.

Suddenly you were limbless when he swam over to you, right in front from where you sat at the poolside, and his fingers were on the skin of your thighs, both of them. The water from his skin, falling and absorbing into your own. A sensation in itself.

You unlatched your leg, and he pulled it off and set it to your side.

Now, you were bare.

Jason was looking up at your eyes, however, and not at anything else. Not at the parts so incomplete. Not on places so ugly. As if you were so beautiful. And from that look alone, you started to believe that you were.

One at a time.

With his hands held out, you let him take your right leg, the one covered in burns and healed stitches, but still with toes and skin at all, and carefully, laid it into the water.

It was cold. Colder than even ice. But god, was it so heavenly.

Now, the other.

Jason, from what you could tell, tried not to look nervous just as you were, but you both smiled, and that was all there is to it to make you step into that very threshold once so frightening.

Your left leg, ending just three inches below your knee, dipped into the water’s surface.

You were here.

You were free.

You could feel the cold, the water, the waves, and the rush up to your head.

“Take your time,” Jason breathed, and his voice was all the more wonderful with everything else you could feel.

Any more, and the tears might start to defy your efforts.

He was as gentle as you knew him to be, and with that, it urged you on. You wanted to be the freest version of yourself. You wanted to be in the water with him, and hold him.

“Jason-“

“I’m here.”

You slid off the poolside, and he was there to hold you up before you could even think to move. His warm hands were so different from how cold the water was, but as equally burning as the heat that spurred everywhere else. They held your waist, and you did not want them to move away at all.

“It’s okay,” he said, with his grip still strong. “I’ll let go only if you tell me to.”

So you didn’t tell him to.

Your hands, already they found their ways resting on top of his shoulders, holding onto him a lot firmer than you actually needed to. Your right leg touched the floor. Your left one waved about in the water. You looked down. They were there. They were alright. They didn’t sting, nor hurt, nor did you feel so exposed that you’d never want to step into any light again.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you frantically nodded, still looking down at the prettiest lights that shone beneath you and Jason’s feet.

You were laughing. “This is so great…”

“It is…”

With you so distracted marveling over the water, he thought you wouldn’t notice if his hands rubbed over your waist, circled them tighter, enough for his fingers to rest delicately on your spine. He was holding you so tenderly, yet you could feel how much he was holding back. And you just went on pretending not to notice.

“I want to go there.”

You pointed at the middle of the pool, where the lights were centered on, littered about to form this spiral that stretched out like a firework that burst into the sky.

“Alright,” said Jason. “Hold on, okay?”

You nodded, and again that wonderful sensory outburst that were supposed to overwhelm you, but didn’t, when Jason led you both to the center of the pool, the waves flowing against your flesh and skin. Oh, was it so beautiful. The water, touching your every bit, it was so much more than you remembered, and so much better than you’d have imagined.

As you reached that very center, and with you having to take in both the feel of this flight, the breath that had escaped you, the lights, ones you had to watch from afar, were now beneath and around you, like you stood right in the core of a star that exploded, a supernova, right at the flares and the burst of light and sound, just as it was on your flesh.

You were swimming on stars, on clouds, on a bed of petals so sweet. You were afloat in this wonderous space, the sun so close but not burning you with its light. There were tears. Wonderous tears. Ones you couldn’t hold back with your heart in full and your chest in this tug that pulled it in all directions. You splayed your arms out, and tilted your head back, enough for your hair to be dipped into the water. And you closed your eyes. Everything. Everything. This was everything.

You looked back up, and no one, not even the moon itself in the midst of a dark sky, had ever looked at you the way Jason did.

Oh god, how you loved him.

Then that music, one that was playing so sweetly the moment you stepped in, it blurred out when you circled your arms around his strong neck.

He kept with his promise and went on to keep holding you so close, closer, until your chest met his so solid, all the cold from the once freezing water was whisked away.

Fingers tangled onto his hair, breaths battling as they met in the space in between, a space that shouldn’t have been there at all. His own hands trailed down to your hips, further down until it made you jolt.

Then your legs were around him. You were flying, so high up in the sky not even the clouds would reach you.

He pushed back your hair.

You didn’t know at what point your lips had met, your warmth uniting into one, single flame, but everything was so much of the speed of a moving picture, that none of time, nothing of the sort that wasn’t him and him alone, ever even mattered anymore.

Jason:

What was it called, when something unfolded before you, and everything happened so fast even when you’d try to make it slow, flashed into this bright, white light, and suddenly you couldn’t move, nor say anything to protest?

That wasn’t even much to think about anymore.

Everything was paced, so slow, slow enough that he could feel every movement she made, every flick of her fingers, every sound that escaped her lips. It heightened to so much more than it actually was. Those months, where he no longer felt even just a splinter, now all those feelings collapsed into the now.

He was kissing the world, his world, and so much of her beauty manifested into this glorious flow. He was hungry, digging into her skin as if there were more to be undone. His lips were no different. Over her lips, her jaw, her neck, licking over her shoulder and back over to her lips where she tasted the sweetest.

She did not hold back either, and he didn’t want her to. She pulled on his hair enough to make it hurt and so perfect was that pain, the growl that came out of him so animalistic, even more so did he starve. Starve for her. He wanted to taste every bit of her.

And so he did, pushing her to the edge of the pool and turning her around so no longer could anything restrict his shaking touch, on every part of her that would spark a fire engulf larger than the one within his chest. He pushed himself inside her, over and over until it hurt.

He couldn’t hold back, couldn’t hide behind this mask of gentleness any longer. For that same gentleness and touches so soft, only could be when his efforts to conceal what his desires truly manifested into, and it comes with deep want, so much lust, fire that burns, skin being drawn in red by the hungriest nails and teeth that dug into flesh. His hips started to hurt, so did his hands. It was starting to hurt her, too, with there being marks on just about every sweet spot there was. But it was just those marks that pushed them both further into fulfillment.

His name, Jason, the most beautiful thing to ever escape her lips, his hands holding her still, holding her neck and squeezing just enough to let her know that only he could ever give her that perfect mix of pain and gratification so immense, that only he could touch her and make it last, and for the whole of the night, his name was the only thing she could ever cry out.

You:

Oh.

Oh, was it all so wonderful.

The strain, the pull of every muscle, the purple marks on your neck, the bruises on your hips, the aches down your cunt, and every bit inside you, still with the many releases, bursts of avalanches and numbs that faltered into lingering buzzes, and eventually this humming that continued like some song you couldn’t remember. Wonderful. Magical. Even if you could think straight, which you couldn’t do much with what happened, you couldn’t describe it with enough justice.

You’ve never slept so well in so long, your head up far beyond the clouds, into space and the stars above, the gas giants that make you even lighter. With not even gravity to pull you down, you were soaring up above.

In some idealistic perfection, a world without the cruelties you knew all too well, it would be that you’d wake up, satisfied at that, to a bed that wasn’t empty, next to a man you loved whose body was filled with the deepest scars, and that would have been the end to the story and all else, the chaos most especially, would cease.

But as it were as cruel as it were kind enough to grant you that moment of bliss, you woke up, still with the sky so dark, and your arm outstretched for a naked body no longer there, but instead you found that very body already with his clothes on, moving as quiet as he possibly could outside the bed.

“Jason?” you sighed, then you sat up holding the thin sheet up to your chest.

Jason was startled. Wasn’t expecting to wake you. Or that, he was trying not to.

“Why are you up?” he asked. He was in a hurry.

And his face, from what you could read, it told you everything you needed to know.

“Are you leaving?”

Again? You wanted to say.

But even if you did, his response wouldn’t have changed. For the better, that is. Because he didn’t have much a response at all.

“Go back to bed.”

“What’s going on-“

“I’m sorry.”

He zipped up his pants, put on his jacket and just like that he was headed for the door.

His face was too grim and blank for him to leave with intention to come back. His hands were too fast reaching for the door. His voice, too low as if he were hiding something from eventually spilling. No. He was leaving. And he wouldn’t want to be found. Not after that look he just gave you before he opened the door.

You took all the sheets and reached for his shoulder. Already, you were shattered. Already, the weight had befallen, on your arms and your chest. He was so stiff that even to just turn, it was hard for him to do.

But you held his face, really held him so he wouldn’t dare pull away. The air had been sucked out of that very room and so much of your body would have broken apart, fallen to the ground and no one would be there to pick them up.

“You don’t have to leave,” you whispered, pushing your forehead against his so your breaths would meet again. “Please, be with me-“

“Y/N -“

“What did I do?” You met his eyes.

“Nothing. Please. We’ll talk about this later-“

“When?”

He sounded so solid, so unaccepting of anything to be hurled at him.

“I have to go-“

“You’re not coming back, are you?“

“I said we’ll talk about this.”

“Don’t walk away from me-“

He didn’t even let you finish.

He was strong, and he never used that against you. But that time, he did. He grabbed you by the wrists and pulled you off him. In less time than you would have hoped, he was gone.

The man you wanted. The one you loved. The one you chose.

Wouldn’t choose you.

Another of the hurt, that descent, when you’ve slipped into this hole so familiar yet the pain wasn’t something to get used to. Tears on the sheets, broken, so many of them spilling out of you and onto the floor, your skin, the bed.

You can’t shatter again. You can’t break any more.

This was the choice you made. No one told you it was all going to be easy. That all this would be handed over just as you called the moment you wanted it. No. Not with him.

Go after him.

Tell him everything.

Go after him.

You grabbed everything you got, put on your clothes and rushed out that door before you were even fully awake enough for your eyes to adjust to the light. Straight down the stairs, out into the garage where you knew Jason parked his bike. He wasn’t there. He already left.

So you took one of the keys that were hung on the wall, started up one of Bruce’s many cars and drove out of that manor.

You weren’t going to let go. You’d chase him if you had to.

You knew this would happen, the moment you realized you loved this asshole. You saw this coming. And you were prepared.

You were as fast as if you flew, if you were no heavier than a speck, a particle that would let even the flap of a butterfly’s wings change its course and move so fast, no one would have seen it.

You called him. As you drove and reached the city, you did not stop calling. Five. Six. Ten times. He didn’t answer.

Once you reached his apartment, seeing that his bike wasn’t where he’d parked it, you called again.

At the fifteenth call, he picked up.

“Jason, for the love of god-“

Your hands were shaking as it held the wheel, and nothing, not even the rain pattering onto the windshield would have calmed you. Everything happened just as fast as the rest of the night went on. And here you were, at the end, and you tripped just as you saw that very end of the dark tunnel.

“Y/N…” he said. And his voice a lot softer than it had been just then.

“Please, just talk to me.”

“We’ll talk. I promise you, we will-“

“I want to talk to you now-“

“You think you know what you want,” he said. “But you don’t. Give it time. You’ll change your mind.”

You slammed your fists against the wheel and the horn blew under the impact.

“You said you’d never make decisions for me-“

“If this is your decision, you need me to make it for you.”

So close. So close to driving away and leave him for the rest of forever.

But it wasn’t close enough.

You turned to the screen right by the car’s dashboard, pressed onto the button to turn on Bruce’s many trackers. There was a red dot.

‘No,’ you whispered. ‘No, you won’t.’

Jason:

“I’m sorry…” he pleaded. “I’m so sorry… but I promise you. Everything will get better.”

Up a rooftop, where he thought she’d never find him. It was hard to ignore the quake in his voice, his hands, how every word he spoke was like driving a knife down his throat, neck, and chest.

“No,” she screamed, and her cries hurt more than that very knife ever would. “It won’t. You’re a coward. What are you gonna do? Leave for another four months?”

“That’s not true.”

“Tell me it is!”

“Y/N.”

He let the skyline distract him, the buildings that soared up, higher than he could ever stand, then locked his eyes onto one of them so they wouldn’t defy him and break apart.

“Whatever it is you think is going on, it isn’t. I already told you how I felt. Why didn’t you just lis-“

Of course, she’d find him.

To be frank, even if it were one of the other safe houses he’s picked that wasn’t on any map of the city, she was bound to find him. He left her at Wayne Manor, for fuck’s sake.

The minute he heard her footsteps, coming in from entryway, he stopped talking, breathing even, and put his phone down. Trackers. Of course. Bruce had five of them on him at least.

He turned around.

“You actually fucking followed me-“

“Why?”

She wore the same thing from that night, the same suit he’d lustfully watched her take off, straps down those very shoulders, baring herself. Her hair, up in this beautiful mess, makeup no longer there and her face beautifully bare. Still a sight, she was, a sight he no longer wanted to get lost in.

“Why is this so hard for you-“

“Because it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?“

“Because, I-“

Every word out of him, a fire that couldn’t be put out. Flames uncontrollable, and his breath nothing but encouraging winds.

“Because you’re gonna wake up one day and realize I’m not any of my brothers… I was the one who never stood a chance,” he said. “No one would think you’d want me, out of the many other things you could have had. One day, you’re gonna realize that I’m not what you wanted-“

“I love you-“

God, it was everything he ever wanted to hear.

“You had Dick and Tim. They’ve loved you for so long… And you’re actually choosing the one guy who doesn’t?“

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

Another step forward from her. Another step back from him. He can’t stand too close or all this would be as close to the world’s slowest, most painful death.

“Nothing could have pointed you to me. Everything was telling you to-“

“For fuck’s sake, stop listening to everything else and just listen to me.”

A struggle at that.

But he’s never been so cold.

It wasn’t even from the wind from such a height, if there were any at all. But he was shivering, his teeth were gritting. Everything he said, he didn’t even mean. And all the more was it excruciating to hear himself say it all.

But he could listen. Even if it’d hurt. He’ll listen.

She was crying. To just reach over and hold her hand. He couldn’t even do that.

“Three years ago,” she whispered into the cold night air. “I was at the manor. Two weeks out of the hospital. I was just learning how to walk again but that day was hard on me. I couldn’t make a step. I was on my bed, and I was just staring at the ceiling because I couldn’t get out of it.”

It pained him all the more, when he knew nothing of what was to come to him, that all this was going to catch him before he’d even realize what it was.

“You never visit me at the manor but that day, you were there. I don’t even remember what for, but you stopped by and you caught me reading A Christmas Carol because it was the one book in my room that I actually liked. Because I couldn’t go down to the library and get more, and I didn’t want to ask from anyone.

“We ended up talking about Dickens. I didn’t know shit, but I remember you talking about him like he was your uncle and I just listened to you. I told you I liked reading his books. You said you’d bring me more when you’d come back. Three days later, you did. You got me Great Expectations.”

Great Expectations.

Why can’t he remember this?

“You left, and I read it that same night. That’s when I found a quote that you highlighted.”

Jason took a step back, away from her.

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

Everything. Everything that devastated, all suddenly came to place.

“The book was new. Store bought. The tag was still there. You bought it for me a day after you visited. Then you read it yourself and highlighted that quote.”

“How did you-“

“Remember that?”

She ignored the streaks down her skin, the droplets that fell down her neck.

“It was just a quote,” she shrugged. “It easily could have been nothing… but if I think of it differently now, it all makes so much sense.”

If he took another step back, he’d fall over the ledge.

He should have done that, now that she had walked close enough for him to get so lost into her face.

“If you loved me then,” you whispered. “Did you even know about it?”

This. This was worse than a fall.

He closed his eyes and everything fell through. The tears. The sobs. Everything. Because he did love her then. He’s always loved her since. But to admit it was close to writing his own death sentence.

This. This was death. And he’d happily jump back into that abyss.

“I didn’t want to believe it…”

You:

You reached for his face and for once, he welcomed it.

“If you tell me to leave right now,” you swallowed. “I’ll leave. I’ll never look for you again.”

Even if it hurts, even if I’ll have to live without you. If it’s what you want, I’ll let you go.

His hands found your wrists but it was to hold you, not to pry you away.

“Do you love me?”

It wasn’t in his words.

It was how he said yes that made you soar past the birds and the thin air from above.

It was when he finally took a step forward, to hold you in place, to keep you from falling apart and keep you so close, that acceptance of what truly went on, the love you’ve long known about and continued to believe in, even when he didn’t believe in it himself. It was there. It was what moved you. You could have fallen in from one of the many spaces above and still, you would end up in his arms.

“Of course, I do…“

Just as the sun rose, to greet you both into this morning anew. So new a life, waiting for you to come welcome it. And you welcomed it with the widest arms. He kissed you, so tender and real. Up where the city could see you, where you wanted to be seen, only to be with him.

Epilogue

Jason:

One box would have been enough for his clothes. He didn’t have much anyway. But as it turns out, leather jackets aren’t exactly as compact as he’d liked.

“Where do you want me to put these?!”

She was in the bathroom. He saw her peak her head out from the door to look at the jacket he was holding up.

“I set up a new closet for you!” she cried out, then she went back to brushing her teeth. “It’s beside mine!”

“Got it!”

He took the boxes of clothes, set it just outside the closet which he’ll definitely get into after he deals with everything else. Moving wasn’t something he liked doing, even when he’s moved around a single city so much before his lease would have allowed him to.

But, this new apartment, her apartment, covered in paint and canvases and rags all over the place that nipped at his neat freakiness he’d soon have to overcome, he might actually stick around.

“What about this!?”

He held up his box of books.

“I emptied a shelf for you, too! It’s next to my sketchbooks.”

“Sketchbooks, sketchbooks…”

Her sketchbooks were all over the fucking place.

He found that shelf, at least. Just enough for all his books. That is, if the paint cans above wouldn’t collapse.

“Do you clean up even just a little?”

“Shut up. It’s organized mess.”

“It’s always organized mess with you artists…”

“What?!”

“Nothing!”

She stepped out the bathroom, in nothing more than just a thin shirt and pajama shorts, then she watched him fumble with the last of his boxes.

“And, uh,” he coughed. “Can I put these somewhere?”

The look on her face, playfully annoyed as it was pleasantly unsurprised, she wanted to laugh that he’d resorted to storing his whole arsenal of weapons in a single cardboard box.

“That floorboard over there,” she pointed. “I loosened it up for you.”

“You’re a doll, pretty bird.” Jason put the box on the floor, ran up to her and grabbed her by her thighs, hoisting her whole thrashing body up his shoulder.

Her screams turned to laughter, then he spun her around, slammed her into her own bed like it was a wrestling ring and held her down with a headlock.

Everything he’s ever thought how this would have ended wasn’t so much of a fraction of how it went. Never has he smiled for so many days, happiness without condition, love so pure, a life that no longer was filled of days he’d have to survive, and was now a life he wanted remember, love, and live.

This was how it ended.

And he never wanted it to end.

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MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | BLUE | YELLOW

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wh6res · 3 years

Text

taeil — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. soulmates are connected by a red string.

synopsis. taeil thinks the whole system is bullshit. he needs to take matters into his own hands.

warnings. tread cautiously. swearing, mentions of death, blood, mentions of kidnapping, violence, turning a 'lil dubcon near the end, severe stockholm syndrome, manipulation

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life.

thank you to. sexeh sam @yukwonghei, cutie charlie @dundun-baby, and baby rina @greenish-taro for beta-reading!

since he was a kid, he’s fantasized about meeting his soulmate. creating scenario after scenario of how he’d meet ‘the one’ as he had cheesily addressed and had absolutely freaked when he finally saw the red string tied around his right wrist on his 20th birthday—courtesy of the soulmate rules of the universe, where one will finally be able to see the string tied around their body once they’ve come of age.

for years before he met that other soul who’s destined to be with him, taeil would stare at the red thread lying across the floor, disappearing under the gap of his door and out to the world unknown. he’d be so distracted, so aloof and in his own world as he anticipates the long-awaited day until his professor calls him out—“moon! do yourself a favor and stop daydreaming!”

until his friends snap him out of it—“thinking of them again? really?”

until his parents shake him out of his thoughts—“don’t worry, i bet they’ll love you!”

sometimes he just loved staring at the string, it was something so measly as a bunch of threads intricately woven together yet it held such a symbol in today’s world. call him lovesick or stupid but was it really wrong to feel excited? taeil’s even betting the person on the other side of this string is just as excited as he was, if not more.

in the man’s eyes, the strings are a symbol of something more than love—it symbolized the person the universe has created especially for him and no one else.

taeil can’t even imagine a world without these strings. how difficult it would be, to love and invest in someone who will only end up breaking your heart? no, the strings also meant reassurance.

assurance that he won’t get hurt.

an assurance of faithfulness.

he had only been a wide-eyed fresh grad looking for some place to intern when it happened. like a scene right out of a cheesy romance movie—he felt the persistent tugs of the string before finally meeting his soulmate. well, using the word meet to describe the whole ordeal is a huge stretch because it was more of a holy shit, is that my soulmate? rather than a hi, i'm your soulmate, taeil!

he merely saw the back of her poised figure but taeil’s heart felt like it wanted to explode, his emotions a mess and feeling everything to the extremes. nervous. scared. anxiety. happiness. excitement—it was all coming at him like bullets.

as taeil stared at her back, walking away, johnny kept shoving him forward, encouraging him to finally approach the person he’s been waiting for ever since that soulmate string appeared around his pinky.

but he couldn’t—not because he was so anxious he’d accidentally vomit the 4-cheese whopper he had for lunch but due to the line of people trailing behind his soulmate like a bunch of baby ducks to their mom. the thought of coming up to his soulmate and introducing himself in front of all those people?

romantic, maybe, but taeil doesn’t have the stomach to do that.

he remembers how much johnny had wolf whistled, unbelieving of the fact his friend managed to snag the possible heir to the company they’re attending an interview in as his soulmate.

“lucky little asshole,” johnny muttered.

taeil had been experiencing the post-effects of seeing his soulmate that he just weakly punched johnny’s arm for the heck of it. he probably didn’t even hear the name his younger friend had called him. taeil’s mind is clouding over, no thoughts in his head but the white polo shirt she wore, sleeves neatly rolled up, and the black pencil skirt hugging her legs and making her ass look so plump.

focus. he needs to focus on the interview right now or else he won’t even have the chance to work here and officially meet her. everything the interviewer asked passed through his head like paper planes in a classroom, shamelessly asking the woman sitting before him to repeat the question, too busy reveling about how their soulmate story would be the cliché office-love. not that taeil minds, he’d love going to work together—

two weeks later, johnny receives an email of acceptance. taeil doesn’t.

the man nearly threw his laptop away out of sheer disbelief and anger. okay, sure, maybe he could’ve done better in the interview but he graduated with latin honors in college! and from a prestigious college at that. he shouldn’t even be applying as a mere intern with the skill set he had yet he went with it because he’d always dreamed of working there.

and now knowing his soulmate is possibly someone who holds a high position in the company? everything just kept getting better and better for moon taeil.

except for that fucking email—pft, or lack thereof. how can they not accept him when he’s more capable than johnny, anyway? for fuck’s sake! taeil doesn’t even ask that guy for rent and he’s so thick-skinned that he stayed up to this day and freeloaded off taeil’s food and shelter.

the absolute unfairness of the situation makes taeil’s blood reach a fever point. he’s completely lossed it, leading him to spit “get the fuck out!” to the other male occupant in the apartment with eyes glaring and lips pulled into a nasty sneer.

johnny’s never seen taeil this upset before and decided that he’d be better off abiding by the older man’s wishes instead of contradicting it.

no. no. no. this can’t be happening. if taeil doesn’t work there, with her, all his sweet fantasies won’t come true and god forbid she ends up falling for another person in the company.

anyone would be naturally drawn to taeil’s soulmate. in his eyes, she’s a goddess in the flesh. taeil doesn’t even need to see her face, from the few seconds he saw a glimpse of her, her presence and allure in itself is already eye-catching. the way her low ponytail swished from side to side as she walked, her back straight and head held high.

taeil needs to see her again. maybe if she finds out he’s her soulmate she’ll put a good word in and he’ll get hired.

yeah. yeah, that’s a good plan.

“please get out of my office or i’ll call security.”

or not.

“no, wait. but i just said i’m your soulmate!” to further prove his point, he even raises up his pinky and sure enough the other end of the string is tied around hers. the incessant pull is there and if not for her sharp cold eyes anchoring him to the ground, taeil would’ve long been soaring high in cloud nine.

“and i said i don’t care,” she snaps just as her fingers sneakily pressed a button in her phone. “i have a fiancé. the whole soulmate bullshit doesn’t apply to rich people. so for the fucking last time, get out of my office.”

“but—”

the double doors of the vice president’s office bounces off the walls when two burly guards barge in. dressed in a white long sleeves and those heavy tinted shades of glasses that taeil hates. the two men waste no time in hooking their arms underneath the smaller, frail man as he thrashes against their arms.

“how can you not care about your soulmate?!” taeil can feel the beginning licks of the flames eating up his whole world as everything comes crashing down before his very eyes. “i’ve been—i’ve been waiting my whole life for you and this is how you treat me?!”

he doesn’t know what hurts more, the scratch in his throat as he screamed with all his might or the stoic look written on her face as the guards haul him away.

when johnny heard the news he’d never felt so sorry for his friend. rumors that initially circulated only between the executive board members had spread and trickled down to the common folk on the lower levels. johnny making it a mission to find out, had extracted himself from his usual cheery and extroverted self to blend in with the background. taeil has yet to talk to him after he got kicked out, so asking his friend—or ex-friend?—about what happened is out of the question.

but like any other breed of rumor, the tale of their vice president’s soulmate barging in her office is ever changing through each mouth that tells the story. johnny doesn't know what to believe in. he’s been trying to put off a meeting with the older man ever since he started crashing in taeyong’s apartment instead. not that taeil himself even tried reaching out to johnny, anyway.

so why should he, when he doesn’t even know what he did wrong?

but there’s a nagging voice at the back of johnny’s head. his conscience isn’t too loud but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there and it doesn’t need excessive volumes to be heard. all it takes is a second of distraction from the paperwork he does, attention straying from the task at hand, and his body will automatically be wracked with guilt.

knowing how much taeil had waited for his soulmate to come to his life, knowing how taeil can readily give everything up for his soulmate without even meeting them yet… and now knowing taeil just got the worst ever rejection in his entire life?

johnny can’t possibly imagine the pain he’s going through. is he really going to choose now out of all times to be petty because taeil kicked him out when he didn’t even bother asking johnny for anything in return during his stay in the apartment?

so when taeil finally contacted him, the sketchyness of what he had asked for flew right over johnny’s head. rational thoughts flying out the window because taeil needs him, he should his friend after everything taeil did for him—

“hey, uhm… i need insider’s information, can you do that for me?”

you shook your head at the long story johnny told you. tuffs of your hair have escaped the intricate pigtails taeil has put your hair up in earlier before he left for work. he’s always hated having your hair messy, but at the moment you couldn’t find yourself to care.

“i wouldn’t put it past taeil’s original soulmate…” you think aloud, mouth speaking before you can stop yourself as you stare disdainfully at the dulled string wrapped around your pinky—it lost its divine red glow after your captor had cut it off on the same day he whisked you away.

ironic, how easy it was to destroy something so important.

you backtracked, realizing the gravity of what you said before looking up at your captor’s friend. johnny doesn’t look all too impressed and he sighs at the pleading look in your eyes. please, don’t tell him.

“i guess you’re somewhat right…” he gives in, coursing his fingers through his hair. “taeil had been… very passionate on finding his soulmate. but i mean, come on, why’d you even marry someone who isn’t your soulmate? i don’t blame taeil for doing what he did to them.”

johnny ignores the way your breath hitches and your body halts all movement. “what—what did he do?”

“paid them a ‘lil visit after gathering enough resources from someone on the inside,” his face stoic, voice monotone. johnny doesn’t like talking about this one. “he studied their schedules, where they live, where they work, how they get to work, what time they sleep, what time they wake. then just one day…”

he drags a finger across his neck.

“oh.”

pathetically, it was all you can say. why did you even bother to ask, anyway? if taeil had been willing to exert force just to keep you in line, then he has the stomach for whatever gruesome deaths he subjected his soulmate and her fiancé to.

you nibble on your lip as you stare at the knot of thread lying on the floor. you don’t see the need to wear the collar wrapped around your neck when that knot is good enough a reminder that you’re now bound to taeil. that he’s fucked around with your destiny and decided he’ll have you out of all people.

its hard to believe taeil once almost worshipped the soulmate bonds, not when all he’s ever done is look at it like it's the bane of his existence and calling it a curse to humanity.

“do you know that you’re—”

“that i’m the 5th? yeah, i know. i saw all the knots on his string.” you defeatedly say, a vivid image of the knots spaced across his string like tophies. “taeil doesn’t like me staring at them, though.”

and you yourself didn’t like staring at them. you never thought something so small and insignificant can mean something so sinister. the knots on his string acting like a body counter. will he get sick of you one day and you’ll just be another knot on his string?

“you’re nothing like his soulmate—i’m not insulting you or anything, i’m just saying the truth. the past girls all had at least something in common with her but you… nothing. not even your hair shines like hers, and that’s even after taeil has taken good care of you.”

this doesn’t soothe you in any sense and before you can open your mouth to retort, the familiar beeping of the code getting punched into the keypad cuts you off.

taeil stood in the entrance as he shrugged off his coat, his polo crinkled at some areas and pieces of his hair had escaped that slicked back hairstyle.

“you’re home early…”

your blood runs cold when he doesn’t even offer you a glance, skipping you out and immediately addressing johnny. “i thought i told you to go home already after delivering the food.”

you admire the way johnny’s eyes roll. must be nice not to be so fucking terrified of the man. “yeah, but your current sweetheart here was lonely and practically begged me to stay.”

the sting of betrayal never grows familiar.

“i never said anything—”

“you did, have you forgotten already?” you hate the show of lust clouding in johnny’s eyes as he stares you down. this can’t be happening right now. “have you forgotten how you even came unto me? whined like a bitch about how taeil doesn’t even fuck you hard enough and you had to fake orgasms all the time?”

“that’s not true!” your frustration manifests as tears. they sting your eyes as you look at taeil. “i never said anything—”

but you pale when you realize they’re not even listening to you, the two guys fist bumping in the foyer and exchanging a few words like “thanks for telling me,” and “no problem, bro,” were heard before taeil is heatedly storming up to you.

you feel numb as you look over taeil’s shoulder at the little smirk johnny shoots at you. have fun, he mouths mockingly and then he’s out the door, extracting himself from the mess he created.

when taeil wordlessly drags you across the hallway, you thought he’ll make a right turn and into the bedroom but imagine your surprise when he pulls you instead towards the bathroom. he wastes no time throwing you against the cold hard tiles as he tells you only one thing.

“strip.”

“taeil…”

“you don’t want to be replaced.” it doesn’t take a genius to know taeil had hit the nail on the head. all your movements come to a halt, looking up at him with an unreadable look in your face. “that’s your fear, isn’t it? that if you die, if i kill you, i can just look for another girl and you’d be forgotten at the snap of a finger. i’m right, aren’t i?”

you gulp, his words stinging even if he didn’t mean for it to sting. or maybe he did. taeil takes a step closer to you, studying your appearance as he brings a hand up to caress your tear-stained face.

spots in your clothes are wet due to the splashes of water on the tiles, and the clips in your hair that once looked neat and perfect are now hanging in disarray, falling off in some places.

“i’m sorry,” you sob. “i’m sorry, john—johnny’s lying. you—you have to—to believe me. please don’t replace me… i’ll be good, i promise…”

truly, there’s no better motivator than fear. and there’s no better way to mess with someone’s head than using their weakness against them.

“you say you’ll be good but i tell you to strip and you couldn’t even do that?”

taeil could never imagine replacing you. he finds it stupid, whatever that brought in this fear of yours, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be extracting every little bit he can get out of this.

he can only stare in awe when you start wiggling your way out of your pretty pink clothes, eyes drinking every bit of your skin slowly being exposed to him as he reaches behind you to open the running water, slowly filling the bathtub.

“get in,” he instructs and you waste no time.

as he sheds his own clothes, he can practically feel the want radiating off you. he knew johnny’s lying, but he humored his friend still. there’s no way you can fake the noises you always make. plus, taeil has seen one too many times the cum dribbling out of your cunt after he’s fucked you into oblivion. he scoffs. harder? then he’ll be breaking you in half already.

taeil swats your hand away as it reaches for his cock and he hopes you don’t notice it twitching before you when you let out a cute whine.

“you want it?”

you nod urgently, salavitating at the thought. taeil was more of a giver to his partners, it’s rare for him to take his pleasure first but you’re far from complaining.

“oh, i don’t know…” he pouts, fisting himself in front of you before giving it a few testing pumps. he swallows the hiss threatening to spill from his lips, chuckling instead at the intense look in your eyes as it follows his hand movements.

you were by far the most compliant girl he’s ever had, someone who’d rather stay than escape. his methods of forcing someone into submission worked extremely well with you. so really, how can he let go of his glorified little pet?

“you’re not lying to me, aren’t you? i got hurt, you know, with what johnny said… i guess i was doing something wrong.”

“no!” your reply is immediate. “no, that’s not true—”

hands wrap around your throat like a vice. “how about you prove it to me, love? tell me everything i want to hear.”

now, this is easy. you’ve practically memorized everything you need to tell him to boost his ego. it doesn’t even take much of an effort.

“i love your cock so much that my body hurts. it hits all the right places inside of me and i will never even dream of wanting another man because they won’t be able to fuck me like you do.”

you feel giddy when he smiles that satisfied smile, your toes curling in anticipation as he leans in to give his obedient darling a kiss—

until he shoves your face down the water.

it doesn’t take much effort to wrestle your limbs down and insert himself into you, groaning at the feeling of your lush and moist walls sucking him in. you’re always so damn wet when he fucks you, oh how much he loves it. loves how tighter your cunt wraps around him as you squirm and fight him to get to the surface of the half-filled tub.

it was only after a few deep thrusts did he relent and pull you up, the few hair clips in your hair floating in the water around as you gasp greedy amounts of air. one look at taeil’s face pulled in ecstasy is enough for you to know it was well worth it.

maybe being rejected by his soulmate was a blessing in disguise. maybe the disobedience of every girl he took before you had been deliberately well-planned. or else he’d never would’ve met you.

taeil was right. all the soulmate and soulmark shit is utterly useless and stupid. because you are by no means his soulmate, but fuck he’ll never let you go.

not when your destiny is to lay there underneath him, taking whatever it is that he gave you like a good little whore.

#yandere nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #yandere taeil #yandere nct 127 #taeil imagines #taeil scenarios #taeil smut

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vercopaanir · 4 years

Text

Teach Me to Fly

The Lovely Moons, Chapter 3

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Blind!Reader

Summary: Making space for yourself aboard the Razor Crest, the child enlists you to break an unspoken rule that leads to something new.

Rating: E for everyone!

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: None!

Notes: God, I didn’t intend for this series to be such a slow-burn, but it is what it is. C’est la vie! I appreciate feedback. Please forgive me if I’ve misrepresented something from Star Wars canon, I am not an expert. Also on AO3.

Keep Up | Go to Sleep | Teach Me to Fly | (later in series) Don’t Go Far

Traveling through the stars didn’t feel quite as mystical as you’d dreamed of when you heard of people going off-world. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t see it for yourself, but other than the occasional shimmy and shake of the engines, the Mandalorian was an incredibly talented pilot who flew his ship with steady hands. It hardly felt different than being on solid ground.

That wasn’t due to the integrity of the Razor Crest, either. In the two weeks you had been aboard, you’d overheard him muttering quiet curses in another language any time something broke, fell off, or rattled somewhere in the ship’s engines. He would disappear into a crawl space in the floor or wall for a few hours, and you would wait nearby in case he needed help, keeping the child firmly encased in your arms.

He never did. Or, at least, he never asked for it.

It had taken you a full week to grow accustomed to the ship. You took your time, using both hands, exploring every nook, crevice, and corner of the hull. He didn’t forbid you from following him up the ladder, but you hadn’t been invited, either. So, you kept your exploring on the lower floor. It turned your hands cold and stiff until they shook, feeling the metal structure around you, but you created the map in your mind. There was a refresher, a rather large locker that you weren’t sure of the contents, the bunk you slept in, and then...further into the hull.

“Don’t,” the Mandalorian told you one day, as you started to step towards a colder corner of the hull near the back. You stopped, tilting your head towards him curiously. “Don’t touch anything down there.”

You considered the warning, the baby holding onto the hem of your robe near your feet. “Alright,” you murmured carefully, turning back. You stepped back towards his voice, where he was standing near the ladder that led up to the upper deck. The child chased the trailing fabric of your robe. “What is it?”

He didn’t answer immediately. You weren’t sure if you would have believed him, or taken him seriously if he had. The truth was a bit gruesome to someone like you-someone who had only ever lived in such a small corner of the galaxy.

That night, you sat up with your back against the metal wall of the bunk, your knees drawn to your chest, and you stared straight at that dark, cold side of the ship. You couldn’t see the carbonite freezer he’d told you about, or the hanging encasements of his bounties. At first, the idea of people frozen in pain and fear left you feeling sick.

But the more you considered it, you felt less unsettled you were, and more respectful you became.

Living a life as a slave indentured you to an order of things. You’d seen the best and worst of most living creatures, and it was not hard to imagine the cantina owner hanging up on the rack. It wasn’t hard to envision the imperial officer who’d taken you from your home, slaughtering your village, your parents. For the first time in your life, you were seeing the bad things that could happen to bad people.

When you fell asleep, you dreamed of the Mandalorian hunting for the man who took your eyesight and drowning him in carbonite. You dreamt of him in the dark, rather than yourself, and you woke up more rested than you could remember being.

The Mandalorian found consistent work, but he never told you what planet you were on or where you were going next. Your curiosity was piqued, but you felt too timid to ask more about it. So far, neither of you interacted beyond what the child needed, and you were, in a small way, grateful. It took you days to accept you were no longer under someone’s thumb. Every time you brushed the back of your neck and felt the thin, healed flesh that had once held the transmitter, you felt dizzy. It didn’t feel real.

At least, not until the Mandalorian found you to give you a payment from some of his work. The credits were kept in a small money pouch, and you stared stupidly up at him as you held it like it was a detonator. You tried to thank him, but he simply spun on his heel and walked away before you could manage the words.

Such was the basis of your interactions. So whenever the Razor Crest landed, you gathered the baby up into your arms and stepped out into the hull, listening to the armored warrior descend down the ladder before he opened that mysterious locker.

Your questions and interest grew each time over this routine, and finally, you couldn’t keep quiet. You stepped closer, setting the child down near your feet. “What are you doing?” you asked softly, tilting your head towards the light that came from the locker that was open before him. It caused his beskar to gleam, and you admired how it must have been polished.

His helmet turned toward you, and for a moment you were both still, staring at each other. The dim light from the locker illuminated enough that you could make out his shape, and you felt brave enough to take another step closer, leaning against the locker’s door. Would he push you away? Tell you to go back to your place? You didn’t need to be in the way, after all. You felt a sudden wave of reticence press down on your shoulders, but you resisted the submissive response.

“Tools of the trade.” His voice was even and low, but it held a lightness, too.

Your stomach settled, and your shoulders relaxed. You tried to recall what little you knew of the creed of the Mandalore, and you felt your cheeks flush from your naivety. You asked, “Mandalorians use tools?”

A quiet noise came through the modulator of his helmet. It could have been a small, breathy chuckle, or even a fond sigh. He shook his head once before seeming to make a decision and reaching into the locker. He brought out something before turning towards you.

“Here.”

Frowning, you reach out and recoil instantly at the feeling of icy metal, but his gloved fingers catch the delicate bones of your wrist. “Don’t-” you freeze, letting him draw your fingers back to the gun he holds. “Don’t be afraid.”

You swallow, taking the tips of your fingers and drawing it over the well oiled steel. Some kind of handgun, you think, hovering over the muzzle before tracing back down the barrel to the grip. He held it still as you studied it, the tension leaving you the more comfortable you became with shape. The cold dissipated the more your skin warmed it, and you tilted your head. “What kind of weapon is this?”

“A WESTAR-35 blaster pistol.”

You had never touched a gun before, never handled any weapon. The solid finality of it made you feel weak and flimsy, and you curled your fingers away from it and towards yourself. “Is it...your...favorite?” you struggled with asking, the words sounding stupid to you.

The Mandalorian seemed to consider your question, turning the blaster over between his hands before you heard him holster it at his hip. “It’s essential. Reliable.”

“How so?”

This was the most you’d ever spoken to each other, and even though it was out of your realm of knowledge, you were desperate to hear him speak more. You were desperate to talk with him more. You suddenly didn’t want to break the tenuous thread between you, finding his presence more comforting than you thought possible. It was an odd sensation for you, finding comfort in a stranger. You waited for annoyance to overcome him, irritation to cloud his demeanor or color his voice.

It didn’t.

“They can fire underwater. Sand, snow, dirt-nothing jams the machinery. Impassable to an enemy.”

The words made you shiver, but your lips twitched upward. “Like you.”

His helmet turned toward you again, regarding you. “This is the way.”

A slight tug at your ankle reminded you the child was at your feet, and you leaned down to pick him up. He cooed as he gazed up at the Mandalorian, and the bounty hunter’s gloved hand reached out to pet the small child between his ears.

You followed him to the hatch, letting the hum of the lowering ramp fade before you asked, “Will you be gone long?”

He paused at that, a question you had never asked before. You wondered if he was so unused to talking with another organic life that it threw him off each time. You couldn’t blame him-no one spoke to you much either, before he brought you along in his ship.

“I wouldn’t wait up,” the Mandalorian said, and you thought he might be happy. At least a little.

“Not much else to do,” you murmured, looking toward the child in your arms as he tugged your hair for attention. “For either of us.”

Warm air from outside ruffled your robe and dress, but the sunshine outside made you yearn to follow. The Mandalorian hesitated, swaying between descending the ramp and staying on the ship. Your eyes moved from beyond the world outside the Razor Crest back to his form, blinking inquisitively.

“D-Did I say something wrong?”

The Mandalorian shook his head then, stepping out of the ship and walking down the ramp. You sighed softly, hearing the door begin to close. You shifted the baby in your arms as he cuddled closer, his naptime nearing. You felt an odd sensation, a tugging in your chest to say something, to call out after him, but you had no idea what you would say.

What did one say to a deadly warrior whose body count surpassed anyone else’s years?

“Be careful.”

He had a tendency towards hesitation when you spoke to him, and the slight pause in his stride as he walked away was no exception. You could hear it in the rhythm of his boots. You felt a small, self-deprecating smile tug at your mouth, and you reached out to the familiar electrical box that housed the buttons that controlled the ramp. You closed it, sealing you and the child in the safety of the ship, and let the sudden silence overcome you.

The baby was still tugging at your hair, and you sighed, stealing his little hand and kissing it fondly. His big eyes blinked up at you, and you gently butted your forehead against his. “Alright, let’s get you some food.”

This was, arguably, the most difficult time. When the Mandalorian went off for work, the quiet and dark of the ship crept in on you until you thought you might lose your mind. The child, tugging at your ankle or babbling happily up at you from your lap was good company, to be sure, but it didn’t make up for your lack of occupation. Without toys, the child seemed just as restless as you were. You could keep him distracted with stories, simple ones you remembered from your childhood, but that only lasted so long before the little one was toddling off to find something else to get into.

After finding him a small dehydrated meal in one of the crates, you suddenly realized you’d never known where the child sleeps. Usually, the Mandalorian would gather the baby from you every night and ascend up the ladder, or he’d collect him for a nap while the ship was on autopilot. You supposed the child could sleep in your bunk, and as you decide on this, you reach over to lift him up only to find him missing.

“W-Where did you go?” Your voice raises octaves higher, fumbling around the small corner you two had been occupying. Your hands frantically search for any sign of the baby, but a gurgling giggle from across the hull makes you perk up. “Oh! You little-!”

There’s laughter in your voice even as relief washes over you, and you clamber up to gather him in your arms. He tugs at your sleeve, grunting as if trying to direct you, but all that’s forward is the ladder.

“You want to go up there?” An answering coo makes you sigh. What could be the harm? “Alright. But you’re going to be napping, not playing.”

The baby fits in the bend of your elbow, and you’re able to shoulder your way up the narrow ladder onto the upper deck. It’s shadowed in darkness, and you fumble for a switch that might light the passageway, huffing in irritation. You supposed his helmet must have some kind of night vision specification, but did the Mandalorian really need everything so dark ?

Your fingers tripped over a panel of buttons, and a sudden whisper of metal opened a set of doors nearby. Instantly, the passageway was flooded with natural light.

Sucking in a breath, you hesitated before stepping inside, your sight lighting up more than it had since before boarding the Razor Crest.

The cockpit featured observational windows that bled the outside world in, and you blinked at the brightness, not unlike some deep-sea dwelling creature underexposed to the above world. The baby wiggled happily in your arms and continued to tug you forward. When he seemed to discover you responded to his silent pleas, he led you to one of the co-pilot seats where you found a makeshift cradle.

“Oh. So you sleep here?” You feel the inside of the small space, finding it insulated and padded with something downy and plush. There’s a heavy blanket inside that you suspect was upcycled from another use, but the baby pulls it happily on top of himself. You can make out his two big eyes blinking from underneath, ears tucked down, and you hear him yawn.

The scent of the cockpit hits you as soon as your mind begins to drift back to your surroundings. It doesn’t smell as metallic up here, you decide. There’s a wintry, sharp scent like trees, clean fabric and a layer of oil that comes from well preserved steel. Some of the switches on the control panel glow in front of you, and you can make out various colors from the sunlight dappling through the windows above.

You sit carefully in the pilot’s seat, feeling uneasy leaving the child alone up here by himself. That’s the last thing you would want to deal with, you decide, imagining the ship suddenly lurching off while the little beastie played with the thrusters and dials unattended. You’re sure the Mandalorian would drop you off at the nearest port, and you wouldn’t be able to blame him.

As you languish in the streams of light, you realize the peaceful quiet outside the ship. You can hear the wind blowing, faint sounds of leaves, and the child’s quiet breathing behind you. It lulls you into security, and soon your own posture-usually perfectly, unfailingly straight-slumps back as you, too, fall asleep. Kuiil’s words of rest in safety echo in your mind.

When you wake up, it’s violent and sudden. There is someone there, and you lurch forward at the undeniable presence looming nearby.

“Hey, it’s okay,” the Mandalorian’s voice says, his gloved hand resting on your arm. Your heart is thundering in your chest, eyes wildly searching for any sign of something wrong. The light is nearly gone now, save for the silvery glow of the stars, but as pretty as it is, you still feel as if you need to fight or flee. The child sits in your lap, staring up at you and cooing as he plays with the ends of a few locks of your hair, and his guardian is still looking you over. “Are you alright?”

You turn your face towards the Mandalorian. He’s knelt down by the pilot’s chair, where you still sat, and you take a few moments to assess yourself. You bring one hand up to the baby’s ear, gently stroking the little creature to reassure both of you that it’s alright.

“I didn’t mean to sleep,” you finally whisper, feeling suddenly miserable. The chair has left your back aching, your temples tight where tension is turning your neck stiff. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even...hear the hatch…”

“I tried to be quiet. It’s late.” There was another pause. “I told you not to wait up.”

You take a moment to gather yourself, frowning gently at the discomfort of sitting for so long. It felt like all you’d done since boarding his ship was sleep, but...you had never slept so well, either. Even now, waking up discombobulated and tense, it was better than any of the nights spent in the cantina’s bunks, huddled on a sparse cot or on the floor with a sheet for a blanket and no pillow.

“Did you get what you came for?” you ask, tilting your head toward him. You could make out the faint shadow of his helmet, kneeling near your legs. “The bounty, I mean.”

“Put up a chase. I would’ve been back sooner, otherwise.”

His voice was a low, raspy baritone, and you wondered if he found it uncomfortable to speak after going so long without. You knew you did, at least.

“I’m glad you were successful, then.” You slowly stand up, hissing as blood rushes back to your feet and your back seems to creak. The Mandalorian lifts the child from your arms as you stretch, and you rub your lower back with gentle fingers to chase the discomfort away. “I should do more to keep me from being idle.”

“You do plenty with this little womp rat,” he says, lifting the child up a bit higher. The baby giggles in response, and you smile at the sweet sound.

“I could-” You pause, biting your lip. You’re aware of when he turns to face you, and you take a deep breath against the intimidation you feel bubbling to the surface. “I could do more. Be more useful, I mean.”

The silence between you is heavy with hesitation, and you can only imagine what he must be thinking. You try to hope he isn’t doubting you just because of your inability to see. The thought alone brings ire in your breast, and you flex your fingers at your sides, ready to defend yourself.

“Sit back down,” he murmurs, turning the pilot’s chair so it bumps the back of your knees. Your eyebrows fly up, and without question, you gingerly perch on the edge of the seat, feeling your heart flutter when he steps closer again. A breeze of scent-the smell of trees and outdoors, clean fabric and steel brushes your face. “Have you ever flown before?”

The question is absurd, but his lack of doubt is also...incredible. You’re not sure if it’s stupid or dignified. Your throat tightens and you don’t trust your voice to remain steady so you simply shake your head.

“Right. Hold this,” he says, dropping the child into your lap without ceremony. You blink, securing the wiggling baby between your arms, and watch as he leans over the control panel. “I don’t think I can teach you how to fully fly a ship, but maybe...take off and landing aren’t complicated. You only need to know the controls for the propulsion and thrusters. The landing program does the rest.”

Your heart begins to beat wildly, and you lean forward as he takes the next few hours explaining what every module, button, switch, and handle on the panel in front of you does. You take your time, feeling everything after he names it so you can commit it to memory. When your fingers brush over a red communications link, you sigh, “It’d be easier if they were all lit.”

There’s a brief pause, and you can hear his intake of breath through the modulator. The more you hear him speak, the more you decide you enjoy the sound of his voice. “It would?”

“Yes.” The child begins to squirm in your lap, trying to reach for a metal top that’s attached to a switch. You shift the child in your lap so he can see what his guardian is doing, and he moves to the other side of the chair while you speak. “I can make out shadows and some color and shapes when there’s enough light. It’s distorted at best, but it’s not total darkness. Not unless there’s light.”

The Mandalorian is quiet, and your eyes track his movements as he unscrews something on the control panel. He leans closer to your side, and you see him drop something into the child’s eagerly outstretched hand.

“What’s that?”

“His favorite toy. There’s a button, here,” he says, moving quickly from the topic to kneel down again. “Under the panel. It lights the controls, but I don’t use it.”

“Show me, please?” you ask, holding a hand out, palm up.

The Mandalorian takes your hand, cupping your knuckles and leading your fingers to the bulky nodule just beneath the lip of the panel. His finger lines up over yours, and he shows you how to press it with a little more force than the others. Suddenly, hundreds of lights that were previously dark flicker to life before you. The baby gurgles in delight around the toy half shoved in his mouth.

You spend a moment, looking at the glowing, slightly blurry controls, and you feel your eyes begin to sting. You’d never been trusted with something like this before, something so complex and skill-based. It was a far cry from cleaning dirty glasses and serving watered down liquor.

Your companion takes a deep breath and leans his forearm on the back of your chair. “Does this help?” he asks, voice almost too soft for the modulator to pick up.

A tear slips from the corner of your eye, and you wipe it away quickly. “Y-Yes. Show me how-how to take off, now,” you say, not asking so much as demanding with a childish eagerness.

The Mandalorian is a good teacher.

In fact, he’s an excellent teacher.

His voice is direct and patient, and he allows you to ask questions and make comments that don’t make you feel inferior. He stands over you, not hovering as much as observing, and you find consolation in his presence. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t treat you as if you’re made of glass, or because he’s not worried you’ll mess something up. Whatever the reason for his trust, you’re grateful for it, finding yourself smiling when you go through the motions of landing and he praises, “Good. Very good.”

The child begins tugging at your sleeve, and you realize it’s past time for him to be fed. As you start to get up, a gentle hand touches your shoulder. “Stay. I’ll bring it to you. Keep practicing.”

But he didn’t. He brought food for the child and yourself.

He set the plate of cold meat, bread, and cheese on the armrest, and you blink in surprise, looking up at his shadow. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

The Mandalorian was using an oiled cloth to wipe down the controls, not glancing at you as he worked. He points out, “You do it for me every day.”

“Yes, but-”

“Let’s practice take-off, now. It’s more in-depth.”

You sit back in the chair, letting the child pick what he wanted off the plate and nibbling on what was left, listening intently as the Mandalorian described different procedures and the pre-flight check-list. Something warm was building in your chest, slow and fervent, and every time his helmet tilted back to look at you, it deepened. You had never been valued before, cared for or thought of as more than a means to an end. And these feelings-they hurt, like the first breath of air you take after being submerged in water for far too long, but they felt sweet, too.

Taglist: @lavenderl3mons @itzagoodthing @letaliabane

If I forgot someone, please message me and let me know you want to be added. :)

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #uhhh #the mandalorian #i think that's it

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phantom-of-decadence · 4 years

Text

God Forbid & the Devil Fears // Chapter One \\

Fandom: Hannibal (TV series)

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Will’s Dogs, Mischa (mentioned) - more to be added

Pairing(s): Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter

Summary of Entire Works: Moving from town to town is exhausting work to keep your face hidden and your hobbies going, but it's worth it to find that crushing high

Hannibal drags himself all over the country, following specific people to kill and following a strict set of rules he laid for himself, struggling to keep his blood lust under wraps.

He soon finds himself in dreary town called Oak Creek and coming face to face with a local who is too curious for his own good.

Albeit, he intrigues Hannibal too, but he is left to wonder if he wants to kill the local or treat him like a delicate rose, blooming in winter's chrysalis...

Warnings: Blood, gore, description of death, murderous thoughts, hunting, pretentious language

Wordcount: 5,514

Tags: AU!No cannibalism, AU!Bookshop Will, AU!Righteous Hannibal, other tags to be added, Will is autistic, pining, angst, gay panic, subtle flirting, eventual smut, fluff, fluff/comfort, pet names, gay thoughts, hunting, hannibal is the scruffy one, so is will but he has standards for fuckssake, hannibal tries to be polite, he is still a murderer though,

A/N: Because we all fucking love putting religion where it doesn’t belong. Also I tentatively made Will on the autistic spectrum ((I will be doing my best to portray autism correctly and read up on it, please let me know if things need to be fixed. I want to do this right))

The POV is not set in stone, I just wanted to open it with something different, going between first person and second was very interesting and I hope it gives insight on characters. So I will likely switch it to third if the next chapter gets written, or keep it like this. IDK, its a toss up

The title will become so relevant later

Towns all look the same, especially when they were all small and in the middle of nowhere.

I move between them often, just stay long enough to admire my handiwork and then I move on for my next target. Leaving what I had done behind me, before they could figure out who had done it.

Where was the fun in being found?

I try not to show my face in the towns I grace, I play a guise that I am visiting friends, family, relations or on my way to see them.

So I stop in a place to rest, a sleepy village that hides a monster. It’s only for a few days at most, I hardly ever eat in a restaurant unless I am stalking, or I get something quick to sate my hunger. And even then, my stomach will not settle for it.

In all the towns I visit, I find nothing to delight in besides the people that they hold within them, those who have not properly answered for their crimes. They walk among the others with their shoulders unburdened and their minds dark, on the prowl for their next victim, warily searching.

Their faces and names, dragged through the mud and branded traitors to mankind and humanity. Some were even locked up and away from the humanity they tried to destroy. Those creatures were the sloppy and messy, only focused chasing the high.

Others I knew, were more careful, calculated and didn’t get caught, didn’t get their due even though they left carnage in the wake of their high.

I knew that high, I craved it. Like all of them.

The high was something that I couldn’t live without.

Was it an addiction?

Maybe.

I never really thought about calling it an addiction, it was a desire to me. Something I could control, something that I had strength over.

An addiction is an urge that had power over its victim.

I would not let the blood lust that curled in my chest to control me, it tried to. Often times when I looked upon a face too soft for this world, too soft for this time.

I did not often give those rushing thoughts too much consideration in the long run, I knew that I should. When I have the time.

But I didn’t have the time, not now.

I was in a new place, looking for a new face, and finding a new desire.

All these towns looked the same.

They were all sleepy, with aimless people wandering the streets. Disguised in neutral colors, abandoned effects, cobblestones and dirt roads.

Diners, mom&pop shops, locals and hardly hints of modern urbanization. Everyone knew everyone, and they didn’t take kindly to an unkind face they have never seen before.

So you have to smile, blend in, pretend you’re one of them - normal, at least; but on the inside you are screaming endlessly and desperately craving for a rushing, dizzy high. A desperation to see red dripping from a wound you made on their exposed throat as their tongue wagged with senseless words, and to the look of shock and stunned silence on the faces of those that surrounded you, the face in front of you.

The thought of it made my mouth water, my hands shake with anticipation on the steering wheel, and my chest crushed with a weight, like I had been sunk deep in the dark depths and been made to stay there, the pressure choking excited gasps from my lungs until I was drowned by the waves of the ocean.

These are the moments where I was powerless, the crescendo of my high - when euphoria rolled through me in waves, and I lost all sense of control.

It hardly ever reached that point, outside of the smooth slide of my knife against uneven skin.

This town was different. I could feel it the moment I drove past the sign that welcomed me into Oak Creek, or perhaps it was just the sinking unease that trickled through me like an impeded stream when I saw the deteriorating sign of that godforsaken fast food restaurant that so many people fattened themselves at.

It’s yellows and reds well faded over time in this dusty little village that didn’t see fit to continuously update it.

I would’ve considered this place abandoned with its looming and dark buildings that were worn with the years of neglect; but Oak Creek’s residents seemed none too concerned about the gloomy haze and bitter cold that rolled over the sky, holding a threat of snow over them.

They didn’t care. They continued to roam the streets, all bundled in fleece coats. It was almost admiral how people in this dreary town continued their aimless patterns in the cold.

The drive past the buildings and to the motel was a short one, on a winding road that dodged small, nestled grey shacks that remained under maintained.

When I came upon the motel, I took note of how well it fit in well with the rest of Oak Creek with a tilt of my head; sleepy and cold and deteriorated, like the rest of the town.

The roof and grounds covered in a fresh blanket of snow, the dark wooden structure was sparse from decoration, save for a sign that read the name of the motel which I barely registered in the back of my mind.

It was the only lodgings in town, after all.

I slowed my car to a stop in front of the motel, turning it off and slowly resting back against the leather seat as I watched the dreary outside in order to collect my thoughts in a neat line.

I began to wonder why those I stalked, kept to themselves in small towns that were underpopulated. Where people are unlikely to speak about the acts they witness or the people that pass through, because they knew better than to talk about other people’s business.

If my prey wanted a chance, then why not find a populated city?

They would be more likely to be found by someone that wasn’t me, perhaps it was the assumption that small towns like Oak Creek didn’t care. And they didn’t, they kept their nose out of private matters unless it concerned the community directly.

But, I like to think my prey enjoyed the hunt, the thrill of the chase.

Mutual respect, perhaps?

Make it easy to dispose of putrid waste?

Kind of them.

Why do towns exist, little places like these, without much foot traffic or tourism? How do they make their income, how do they willingly feed off of one another and fight their neighbor for profits?

How do they justify it?

Do they?

Or is it something unspoken, untold and unfixed?

No tourist attraction, no myths, legends or killers.

That they knew of.

Towns like this surely had no discourse to them, they were a still lake who never had its surface disturbed by wind, leaf or rock. Intentional or not.

Where was the vibration of enjoyment?

These thoughts careened in my head as I left the warmth of my car and made a hasty entrance into the motel, I feigned a smile as I stepped up to the desk to obtain my key from them, “I’m just passing through, on my way for a baby shower.”

I answered the desk clerk’s invasive questions in a polite manner as they tried to get to know me, a brief guest in a drizzle of visitors.

What was behind the urge to know everyone in these dwellings?

Could I consider it all basic politeness that was due to every human?

They couldn’t possibly know what I was by a singular glance. They were simply ordinary.

I would only be here for only three days at the most, that’s how long it would take. To find him, his pattern and then drag him out of his dwellings and gut him like the senseless and cowardly pig he was.

I almost felt guilty for comparing him to a pig; pigs had more character than this man.

Though, I suppose he wasn’t entirely senseless, he moved often from his crimes, never got caught and made his killings few and far between.

This time, he made an error, he slipped up. Stayed for too long to revile in the chaos that was created, he got a little sloppy. He still retained more intelligence than half of the detectives and pawns for the FBI hunting him, because he crawled away, right under their noses.

He couldn’t crawl away from me, I found him and he didn’t even know.

Yet.

My routine began when I was handed my key and directed to my room.

Once I entered the ‘cozy dwellings’ as described by the advertising, I put the “do-not disturb” sign on the doorknob. Some previously have considered it peculiar how much I value the privacy and discretion in my life.

If they were inside of my skin, shared my experiences, they would understand. A man who soaked their hands in red does not leave hand prints on others uninvolved in their crimes.

I scoured the room, began to measure and map it in my mind. I sat my travel bag down by the bed before I eased myself onto the creaking mattress, listening for how thin the walls were, how much sound would enter and escape.

I could hear the sounds from the road outside of these lodgings; it was mostly silent, no cars rumbling by. Everything was within walking distance, so I understood that people didn’t use gas unless it was completely unavoidable.

No sounds on the road, not many people milling around. No cacophony of noise to cover up the wails of a dying man, questions would be raised.

It couldn’t be here.

I knew the home address of the man I was hunting, I knew a lot about him.

I made that my job to know him, all of his names that changed from town to town and crime to crime; his given name was Peter Martin, not a name that stuck out in a long list of names that the devil keeps.

I wondered why he never kept his name as it was given, too mundane perhaps? Did he want to strike terror into the hearts of others with a frightening name?

Peter Martin would not be giving me that answer, that wouldn’t be the question I was asking him.

I needed to go to his home and watch him, establish his pattern the way a bee would every single day, a drone existing to serve a queen. Existing to serve the chance that a high would be waiting for him around the corner.

Despite having just arrived to my room, I was ready to venture out into the frigid ghost town.

The prospect of a hunt, of a chase - the temptation and soft promise that I would get that depth crushing high in a manner of three days time, was enough for me to rise from my bed and leave the warmth of my lodgings behind.

The sooner I was able to map out Oak Creek, the sooner my hunt could begin and I could move on to the next deserved high.

I stood, staring down my own reflection in the mirror that sat above the desk, trying to assure myself that I looked like one of them.

With the plaid scarf tucked tightly around my neck, leather gloves on my hands, and knit cap pulled down over my ears, I looked less of a killer than what I actually was.

You cannot help feeling what you are in your soul; but for a brief moment of peace, your mind can let you forget what you actually are.

In the end, when it truly matters most, you will always know what you are in the darkest parts of yourself.

I closed the door behind me, taking care to ensure that the “do-not-disturb” sign was on before I left the premise; though left nothing incriminating in my room. I kept that with me, at all times.

Then again, I was a fond of using whatever was within reach of my hands when it came to achieving my high.

Some considered it resourceful, when I used a “Live~Laugh~Love” wooden poster to nearly sever the head of an escaped child rapist. He had struggled too much, knocked the knife from my grip. That was the closest thing I could reach.

The snow crunched under my boots as I trudged along the slate sidewalk that led from the motel and into a graying Oak Creek, it was mostly empty save for a couple dressed in brown and tan winter clothing, too wrapped up in each other to notice that they had passed me.

I didn’t have the desire to quirk the corners of my mouth up when our eyes met for a singular second, I knew my gaze was emotionless and empty even if they didn’t register it, I did.

I found difficulty to fit warmth in my features unless I had reason to do so, a reason that would hopefully benefit me in the end, and people in love is not a reason to show warmth.

We passed each other and that was the end of it.

I passed several stores in the area, none of which I took too much note of. Save for a diner, I would need to eat, after all.

The sky was still as grey and callous, if not more so, from the time I arrived.

Dark skies settled over the horizon, assuring to bring fresh snow and harsh winds that burned my nose and cast tears in my eyes trying to see past the frigid breeze.

I never particularly cared for winter, it was too bitter and gloomy.

Only one aspect of winter was appeasing to me, it was the whiteness of the snow. How undisturbed it fell, the way it gently kissed the earth and how it looked when red spattered over it.

I enjoyed writing my love notes to the earth on pure white.

I continued down the sidewalk for a few minutes longer to take everything in, but I soon found myself looking up at a wooden sign above a shop that read, “Pages and Pawprints, a collection of books and friendly faces to keep you company”.

I don’t exactly remember what called me towards the cobblestone store that was more window than it was building, but I turned my attention to it fully. It looked almost completely desolate, but I approached it all the same as curiosity drove me more than logic.

I knew I shouldn’t be showing my face too much in Oak Creek, thankfully satisfaction brought the curious cat, back from the dead.

I opened the glass door, trying not to notice how the handle was shaped in a dog’s paw; I was instantly greeted by the sound of a bell ringing and a couple of subdued barks from dogs laying down, near a couple of tables and chairs.

My eyes were drawn to the six dogs lying on multiple beds that had been provided for them, they were all of different size and color and all eyes were locked onto me.

Subtly, I wondered what I had been expecting? The owner of this store was clearly infatuated with canines and their hair, whereas, I was not. I considered turning around and leaving, though something kept me there.

Perhaps it was the warmth in contrast to the outside, I paused to loosen my scarf and unzip my jacket. I left the knit cap on, however.

The door closed behind me, ringing out the chime of a bell once more just to announce that I was still there, deciding against the thought to leave.

My gaze remained on the dogs for a second more, but none moved to greet me. I allowed my eyes to wander until I found a man sitting behind a mahogany desk. The only one who wasn’t looking at me, but at the computer in front of him.

I moved in his direction, searching for a conversation, these trips got lonely. Save for the people I gutted; I still valued conversation I could have with people who wouldn’t remember me.

“Hello.” The smile on my lips was immediate as I got close enough to study you.

Your hair was dark and unkempt, tousled, forgotten about. Designed by the way you slept, heavy and slicked in sweat from what I can only assume was nightmares, if Oak Creek was always this cold.

Your head tilted up to acknowledge me, the slightest quirking of your pink lips in response to my spoken word, yet you made no move to respond to me.

Your face was almost the same as your hair, unkempt stubble and a sheen of dampness on your forehead, dark circles under your eyes. Which refused to look up at me.

Your blue eyes didn’t settle, they looked everywhere but at me, darting around in that pretty little skull of yours. Trying to lock on something in your shop that would ground you.

I could smell a lot coming off of you. Most notably, that stink of an aftershave that made me want to wrinkle my nose in disgust. I resisted the urge because I smelled another thing rolling off of you, blatant apprehension of my person.

It would’ve strung my chest with hurt, if I cared in that way.

A quick glance to your hands, in your lap now, were shaking and fidgeting in a looped pattern, told me this is what you were always like with new people.

You got sensory overload quickly, when it came to humans, and their noises, and their energy... you liked your dogs though. That much I could see when your gaze rested on them for once.

I wanted to push you a little bit, I wanted to stare at you and make you squirm with the weight of my gaze until your heart was racing, make you talk to me and answer my buggering questions...

At least I thought I wanted to do that. To test you, see how far you would go.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t find it within myself to do any of that.

I turned my body, my dark and unnerving gaze away from you, and looked into your store to try and figure out the purpose of it really was; dark bookshelves, assortments of books that were organized by color, it looked like.

The walls were a deep maroon and had pictures of people and their dogs hanging from it, small plaques here and there.

I found myself smiling at the ensemble, despite the disdain I held for animal hair - it seemed to complete the look. The shop was neatly kept, it was something you were proud of, something you were deeply passionate about.

I could feel your eyes on my when I turned my back to you, curiously studying the way I held myself and what I wore, too many layers for a local.

Turning my back to people wasn’t something I would consistently do to strangers, but I knew you had no reason to hurt me, that was the last thing you were capable of.

“What are you here for?” You asked me, finally speaking. Your voice was raspy and soft but baritone in your chest, you sounded hesitant to speak because you didn’t know who I was, and I wanted to keep it like that.

To protect you, to protect myself more.

I knew that you were used to the people in your town, you were used to a pattern that repeated itself and I disrupted it. So you were cautious and tiptoeing around me, as if you could sense what I was.

I had to assure myself that you didn’t.

I parted my lips to answer you, politely as my mind turned back to the thought of small town people wanting to know everything, “Nothing in particular, I was exploring town-”

“You’re not from around here.” You stated sharply, prompting me to incline my head over my shoulder to look at you with a brow raised. I was smiling even if you weren’t.

You looked away, apprehensive again.

I didn’t have the time to wonder why I smiled at you, what the reason was that benefited me but it brought a blossoming warmth to my chest.

“No, I’m just passing through. I thought I should find a couple of places to entertain me on my short visit.” I affirmed your suspicion of my ‘wayfaring stranger’ position.

“Oh,” You took a second to try and collect your thoughts before you spoke again, and something stutter in my beating chest as I faced you once more and saw the creases on your forehead, lips pulled into a taunt line as you considered how best to showcase the things you were passionate about.

Your blue plaid shirt was ruffled, coated in a layer of dog hair; pushed up past your forearms, revealing pale skin and faded scarring. You had left your thick jacket and scarf somewhere else, out of reach.

My fingers twitched by my side, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by my staring, but I wanted to touch your skin and inquire how your arms earned those stripes. I remained silent until you spoke.

“I have owned this shop for three years now and I have books imported from different countries and states, I don’t really put labels on what this space is... but you can buy the books, a-and take them home.

“Or you can read them here and put them back, s-sometimes I open it for crafts on certain day.” You explained to me, your eyes still darting around, a smile and a blush decorated your face. For a moment, you met my gaze before you were focusing on your dogs again, “My dogs are friendly as they can be, they like people and it functions as a safe space if anyone needs it.”

As I listened to you speak about your shop, I reflected a bit internally. I concluded that the safe space you spoke of was for you, mostly. You almost looked like you were refraining from telling me every last detail detail of your beloved dogs, you instead turned the topic elsewhere.

My mind turned towards myself after a beat, I wondered what this stuttering in my chest was; it wasn’t the weight that shackled me when a potential high presented it’s face to my keen eyes.

This was something else entirely, like my bones were made of air instead of tension. Hyper fixation sat heavy on my chest, the same way as when the blood lust dripped down my teeth, accompanying the urge hunt, the desire to know you, your soul, and everything under your skin. All of you.

My claws would flex with the want to sink into you and hold you still, only stare into your eyes, your entirety. I wanted to look you in the eyes and see who you really were, but I didn’t meet your gaze.

I followed it to the books, to the dogs.

This feeling was wrong. It wasn’t how I felt when the perfect prey was within the grasp of my talons; perhaps it was the desire of someone innocent, to see them bleeding.

I had not set my sights on innocence for the longest time.

I promised Mischa that I wouldn’t dig for innocent breath or blood, ever again; but these desires made feel stuck and powerless, rooted in one spot as your words tumbled through me.

I only ever knew one way of getting that power back, to take it away from someone else. I didn’t feel the need to take it back from you, I simply let you keep it... whatever made you feel comfortable with me.

I smiled, the corners of my eyes crinkling as you told me about the genres that you carried, several of which, I didn’t even care for.

You looked so enthused, a twinkle in your eye that mesmerized me, so I could only stand there and thank you, telling you that I would go get the books you recommended would entertain me for a spell.

I kept my eyes on you, watching as your face lit up, you smiled and laughed softly, fingers clasping together as if you were shy or astonished that someone would listen to you.

I found that absurd, everyone would listen to your voice if given the chance. I forced myself to look away from your face, I didn’t desire to make you crawl in your skin because of my piercing gaze; somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered why that though struck my skull.

I thanked you again and left my place at the desk, carefully stepping around the many dogs that you owned, they simply thumped their tail on the ground and I feigned a smile to them. If only for your sake.

I disappeared behind on of the shelves so you could no longer see me, and the stutter in my chest slowed down, if only just a bit while I scoured the sections to find ‘drama’, ‘mystery’ and ‘historical fiction’, neatly bunched together.

I could consider these few genres the absolute last thing I wanted to read, but... I was going to grab the books and bring them to you anyway.

I wish my mind would give me a rational answer to why this trembling like a newborn fawn, and sudden airiness of a bird made of feathers came to me.

I should’ve left the store when I had the chance.

This wasn’t the blood lust that coiled within me when hunting my perfect prey, the urge then was unfiltered rage, animistic and primal. The desire to maim as best I could while, keeping my identity restricted at the same time.

This fawn is something else that I don’t know how to care for, a different breed of blood lust that sat on my chest. I knew I would have to do a dissection on myself. I could feel it in the back of my mind, the terror of not being in control of my own emotions.

Mischa in the back of my mind, repeating the words I had said to her, the promise I made to my sister so long ago.

I sighed, defeated, as my hands pulled the four books you recommended, off the shelf and held them in my hands, close to my chest before making my way back to you.

The Hound of the Baskervilles, The Murder on the Oriental Express, The Song of Achilles and of course, Othello. Excellent choices if I were another creature.

You glanced up at me as I came back, your eyes like a lamb’s, wide and curious.

You took a second to look me over as I walked, taking me in as a whole and not a part; I was like a Victorian schoolgirl for a beat, embarrassed I had been caught bathing by the boys as they glanced in awe at me.

I wanted to clothe myself in white satin to hide prying eyes; but in a second beat, I was aware that I was fully clothed and dressed for winter in this dreary town of Oak Creek, standing in front of you.

Nowhere close to what my mind’s eye provided me.

It was jarring to say the least, I almost faltered in my movements under your vision.

Your scrutiny lasted for less than five seconds, eyes finally returning to your computer screen, waiting for me to set the books down on the desk so you could ring up the price.

I didn’t even want these books in the first place, yet you looked joyous that they were in my arms, “I recommend, if you read anything, read The Song of Achilles first, before you leave town...”

You seemed to hesitate on what you wanted to say next, twitchy fingers collecting the books and stacking them neatly, “No-one ever wants to discuss the meaning of it, both within the book or the actual myth.”

You left it open ended, for me. My eyes locked on your wrist, skin pale and almost ashen, and your long fingers stimming below it.

I knew what you wanted, what I was made you curious the same way I had been when I first slunk into your shop. You wanted to find out more about the stranger in your building, like everyone else in Oak Creek.

But you were more forward about it.

“I can come in the day after tomorrow.” My lips parted and my mouth spoke before my mind could finally catch up and remind myself... what rules I was breaking by even offering such an absurd thing.

I blinked, my first solution was to stay away from you, to fight this stutter in my chest and whatever craving I had for an innocent’s blood. If this even was a craving.

I answered your unspoken question and you were a deer in headlights because I gave you exactly what you wanted, you slowly looked up at me, your curls brushed loosely over your forehead and your fingers twitched in uncertainty.

“If you want to talk about the book,” I continued, knowing there was no way I could step back now with my dignity and your feelings intact.

My voice was strained like something was strangling me when I spoke - something invisible to you, but completely seen to me, “I enjoy a lively discussion from time to time.” I offer so it wouldn’t be worse than it was, but I don’t believe it helped the situation.

You stared at me, mouth agape while my chest sunk to the depths against my wishes; then your lips twitched into a smile, “Okay... it’s nice to speak to new people.” Your voice was soft as you accepted my invitation that you prodded from me.

My throat tighten in response, I wanted to verbally agree with you even if I didn’t believe it, I nodded instead to you. I offered to speak with you even though I knew I shouldn’t, I had prey to stalk, catch and gore.

I had to dissect this stumbling fawn inside of me.

Where would I find the delicate time to speak to you?

And why did the thought of not getting the chance, fill my lungs with inescapable breath?

The sooner I left this village and claimed my prize, the sooner I would feel normal again.

I always hated the winter, things were always different and difficult, the ground refused to let things rot no matter how long they had been there.

The amount I owed you for the books I didn’t even want, tumbled from your mouth to distract my thoughts, and I hastily dug into my pockets, pulling out a wad of cash and thrusting it over to you. I hadn’t been listening to you at this point, I just wanted out of this store to cool my buzzing mind.

I needed to retreat from the public and your eyes.

“It’s only twenty-one ninety,” your voice broke through my fog, confusion an undertone in your soft voice.

I blinked in an attempt to get my head right, before I took the money you offered back to me, wanting the right amount because you were a small store who couldn’t cash a hundred dollar bill.

“Oh, my apologies.” I ran through the notes, finding as close as it could get to the total, giving thirty dollars back to you, “Keep the rest.” I struggled out while I gathered my books in my arms and turned for the door.

My pathetic attempt to get away in a haste as if a hunter was on my bleeding trail, though your voice cut me short like a gunshot in a silent forest, “I’m Will, by the way.”

I stopped, my gloved hand on the handle to the door.

I took one moment to look back at you, your cheeks blushing pink and lips turned upward in the smallest smile as you forced yourself to watch me for my reaction.

I let out a shaky breath, preparing myself to break yet another a rule that I set many years previous to keep myself and innocents safe... did it even matter now?

“I’m Hannibal, it’s nice to meet you, Will.”

“Likewise.” You responded immediately, leaving me with your parting smile and I quickly took my leave of Pages and Pawprints, heading back the way I came from, back to my motel where I could brood over the interaction that just passed. Dissect this new, tumbling fawn

I furiously growled under my breath as I walked through the cold, books pressed tightly to my chest and the lingering scent of that horrible aftershave from you, following me all the way to the supposed comfort of my room.

I needed a kill to get you off of my mind.

7 notes · View notes

amiandthechaos · 6 years

Text

8th Year Group Chat

so i started wrting this the other day when i was a bit drunk and it’s silly and very long so forgive me

draco: okay so i created this chat because we need to talk about the elephant in the room

wayne has left the chat

pansy: what’s an elephant

blaise: are you kidding

ron: it’s like a hippogriff but with no wings or beak or claws and it’s fatter and it has a trunk

hermione: that’s the worst description of an elephant i’ve ever heard

theo: how many have you heard?

hermione: shut up

draco: it’s a muggle expression pansy for fuck’s sake

lavender: spit it out malfoy

millicent: lav love, draco doesn’t spit, he likes to swallow

draco: SHUT UP

dean: LOL

seamus: POWNED!

hermione: it’s supposed to be “pwned” which it’s actually supposed to be “owned” which doesn’t meake any sense to me? why would they own you when they insult you?

daphne: oh my god

ernie: are you sure you didn’t add me by accident? this seems like a slytherdor thing

hermione: ?

pansy: slytherdor?

padma: that’s what the rest of us call it when your houses get chummy

susan: which happens more than you’d think

blaise: we do not get “chummy” with the gryffindors

seamus: we hate each other so?

anthony: yeah, you “hate” each other so much you forget everyone else exists

hannah: last weekend, who were the only ones playing truth or dare until seven am after everyone else had gone to sleep?

hermione: ...

padma: malfoy, parkinson, zabini, bullstrode, potter, weasley, granger, finnigan, and brown

millicent: not true. me and lav went to bed WAY before all those losers

ron: hey!

ernie: they can’t help it, they have to impress each other every chance they get

dean: no we don’t!

theo:...yes we do. our houses are completely disfunctional and codependent

seamus: get bent, nott

theo: make me

seamus: is that a dare?

theo: see what i mean?

hermione: someone read the psychology books i suggested

blaise: yeah, thanks a fuckton granger, now he won’t stop analyzing everything we do

draco: everyone SHUT THE FUCK UP im trying to talk about something here!

theo: you should really work those anger issues

terry: is this about the dirty dishes in the sink because if so i agree, we need to talk about it

draco: no

neville: hey everyone!

gregory: i didn’t leave those dishes!

ron: literally no one said it was you

justin: had anyone finished slughorn’s essay? i could use the help

mandy: you can borrow mine tomorrow, but i should warn you that i did it at 3am and can’t remember if it’s good or bad

draco: THIS ISNT A STUDY CHAT YOU KNOB HEADS

lisa: *sigh* hurry up and tell us, some of us have things to do

draco: right

draco: we all have to share a common room now, which means we need some ground rules so we can get along

pansy: we have ground rules, granger made that very clear in the first official 8th year weekly assembly

pavarti: yeah, we all signed the contract

draco: but i think we need to add a new rule

michael: couldn’t you just have brought it up during the next weekly meeting?

draco: no, corner, i fucking couldn’t because this is urgent and needs to be said now

tracey: daphne, did you borrow my mascara again?

susan: you could have just texted granger about the new rule

draco: NO. EVERYONE NEEDS TO KNOW ABOUT THIS

theo: or, you just need to be the center of attention

ron: it’s definitely that

hermione: malfoy, would you just tell us already?

terry: i’d like to add a clause that enforces the ‘keeping the dishes clean’ rule

hermione: noted

terry has left the chat

draco: people shouldn’t be able to walk around on their underpants in the common area

lisa: ?

daphne: oh my god

lavender: who does that?

seamus: i was extremely drunk and it only happened once!

dean: and i think everyone appreciated it

millicent: *gags*

ernie: weren’t you the one who convinced finnigan to remove his trousers?

millicent: ... why do you always remember everything?

draco: are you all fucking blind? this is about potter!

mandy has left the chat

neville: haha, good one malfoy

anthony: may i ask if this entire chat is an april fools joke of some kind?

blaise: draco’s entire life is a joke

gregory: *high five*

susan: malfoy, some of us have things to do

draco: for the past few days every time I go down in the mornings to make tea, potter's there without any trousers on!

pavarti: are you trying to tell us he was... naked?

draco: what?! no of course not!

rom: what's the big deal, we've all seen harry naked in the showers after a game

blaise: i must certainty haven't

lisa: neither have i

ron: well the ones who play quidditch have

hermione: i don't play quidditch and i've seen harry nude

pansy: that's because you're a pervert

neville: hermione's not a pervert!

theo: right, she's just secure in her sexuality and actually mature

padma: this is why no one likes you

blaise: yeah, because everybody loves ravenclaws

tracey: more like ravenpuffs

gregory: good one!

tracey: thanks greg

susan: malfoy i've seen harry every morning this week and never once was he naked

draco: I DIDNT SAY HE WAS NAKED

draco: he was in his underpants like the common room was some kind of french bouyeristic cabaret!

daphne: oh my god

daphne has left the chat

seamus: that... sounds amazing

seamus: can we do that?

pansy: no

lisa: no

ernie: no

millicent: if it's only the girls, yes

dean: don't worry babe, we'll do it in the gryffindor dormitories

neville: no

hermione: malfoy, harry wasn't in his underpants, he was wearing shorts

draco: what's the difference

anthony: are you kidding

anthony has left the chat

hannah: shorts go over your underpants

draco: but i could see his legs

tracey: so?

draco: I DONT WANT TO SEE POTTER'S LEGS

susan: so close your eyes for merlin's sake stop bugging everyone about it

padma: wow nott is right, malfoy has some serious anger issues

theo: oh, now you like me, patil?

padma: no

neville: that was kind of rude

ernie: see? slytherin and gryffindor always stick up for each other

michael: wait, harry isn't on this chat

draco: that's because we need to discuss this without him

susan: he's literally the only person that really needs to be in here

susan has left the chat

hermione: malfoy, we can't forbid people wearing shorts

draco: this is UNACCEPTABLE

draco: what's next? am i going to be forced to see potter shirtless just because it's hot outside?

hermione: ... i don't think so?

draco: are you saying he wouldn't do that?

draco: there's no risk of that happening?

justin: i need help with my dada homework, does anyone know where harry is? i don't care if he's wearing shorts

pansy: he's probably haunting draco's dreams

hermione: harry's sitting next to me

draco: WHAT

pavarti: oh plot twist

draco: has he been reading all of this?

hermione: no, though i did ask him if he's been walking around in his underwear which he found strange

ernie: topics of discussion for next ravenpuff meeting; new slogan, playlists for studying, and how to deal with slytherdor's sarcastic passive aggression

ernie: whoops wrong chat

seamus: ha-ha very funny macmillan

michael: they are secretly very worried that we do have meetings because they know we'd rule them if we wanted to

tracey: michael please, you would look prettier with your mouth shut

hannah: and all slytherins would look prettier with a hufflepuff on their arm but go off I guess

theo: a slytherpuff couple would have an interesting compatibility profile

blaise: then why don't you date one

theo: jealous?

dean: uh oh, trouble in paradise

dean: looks like we continue to be the best same-house couple @seamus

theo: shut it or i'll murder you in your sleep

draco: who has anger issues now?

blaise: that's my bf

ron: oi, I'm trying to see if I can defeat everyone in our year at chess, who haven't I played with?

justin has left the chat

ron: was it something i said?

millicent: you haven’t played me weasley, but that’s because i’ll destroy you

ron: you’re ON

lavender: i can’t decide if my ex and my current lover competing against each other is hot or creepy

pansy: hot

hannah: hot

lisa: hot

neville: a little creepy

draco: so how are we going to solve this potter thing? I think we all agree it's a BIG and rather disgusting problem

lisa: *eye roll*

padma: oh don't worry malfoy, we are all working very hard to ensure this gets sorted asap

draco: really?

draco: I mean... good.

draco: I think getting full access to potter's wardrobe would help

ron: i agree, i think malfoy deserves a place inside harry's closet

blaise: and vice versa

draco: what are you talking about potter's got terrible taste

lisa: and annoying too, he's got a taste for some terrible and annoying things

draco: exactly

hannah: wow you were right pansy, it's truly unbelievable

neville: and harry's even worse sometimes

dean: ugh yes, so frustrating

draco: what are you nitwits talking about?

ernie: oh, nothing really

ernie: except that we've been having another chat without you trying to work out a solution to this stupid problem

draco: what?

pavarti: @everybody NOW

lisa, millicent, lavender, ernie, blaise, michael, dean, seamus, hannah, tracey, pavarti, and neville and have left the chat

draco: WHAT

padma has added harry to the chat

padma: good luck malfoy!

padma has left the chat

gregory: oh shit are we doing this now?

gregory has left the chat

hermione: harry, malfoy here thought it was time you two had a private chat

pansy: and he thinks you've got nice legs

draco: PANSY

hermione: yes that too

hermione and pansy have left the chat

harry: what

ron: sorry mate

ron has left the chat

draco: ...

harry: so...

harry: I heard you have a problem with my shorts

draco: i do

draco: they're bloody distracting

harry: okay

harry: maybe if you weren't such a prick you'd be able to mind your own business

draco: shut up potter

draco: wanna go to the lake this weekend?

harry: ...okay?

draco: it's gonna be a hot day

draco: so

draco: just saying you should dress accordingly

harry: :)

theo: it's interesting that our year has a higher than average amount of non-heterosexual people. potter, what would you say has defined your sexuality the most? a) epigenetics, b) environment, c) upbringing

harry: what the fuck

draco: theo, fuck off

theo has left the chat

draco: :)

#look at this fucking mess #i had fun tho #drarry #drarry squad #also can we talk about #millicent x lavender #cause i think that'd me AMAZING #deamus #thlaise #there's a lot going on here im not gonna tag every sincle person #i love padma #and theo #oh how i love theo

344 notes · View notes

thehoneygloss · 6 years

Text

Paradigmatic

In order for one to find their designated soulmate, one has to see colors. So what happens when you fall in love with a certain Park Jimin yet your vision is still covered in the emblematic shades of grey that you know a little too well.

In shorter words, this is what happens when love is a system and not a choice.

word count: 1.7k

genre: angst, bit of fluff

You’ve always wondered why you couldn’t see the world as your friends did. You realized this when one of your class mates pointed out on a rainbow and only some could see what she meant — all you saw were layers of black and white, while others saw different layers of colors that resembled beauty.

But it wasn’t until you met him that you finally admitted just how disgustingly unfair the world was. Because when you met him, when you laid your eyes on him, you were supposed to see colors. You were supposed to know the differences between red and yellow and why there had to be three lights on a stop sign. However, all you saw were the emblematic shades of grey that you hated a little more everyday.

You had fallen in love with him, you liked to think. The mere thought of him leaving scared the shit out of you and maybe that was enough to tell you just how much of a structure love was. See, in your world, love was a system. You were supposed to see different varieties of colors the moment you meet your soulmate. But why the hell were you still seeing shades of grey when you met him six months ago?

You incline to think that maybe, just maybe, you were one of the broken ones. Ones who were wounded and claimed to be un-fixable. They were ones who were kept outside of the city, in a building that overlooked the ocean. But you’re unimpaired, as they like to say after every round of your annual check up.

The moon was all too blinding where you were. You’ve been there a one too many times but the magnificent view always strikes to amuse you every damn time.

‘Y/N,’ he said softly.

‘Yes?’ Your eyes were still focused on the now small circle of light in the bleak darkness that surrounded it.

‘I think the moon is very sad,’ his voice was all too dreary.

‘And why is that?’

‘The moon loves the sun too fucking much that it chases it every night and day, but so does the universe and every other planet and so all the moon can ever do is chase. But don’t get me wrong, the sun also loves the moon dearly. It’s just the way the world works, I guess. They don’t want to ruin such a perfectly good system, so they’re sacrificing themselves. And I think that’s really brave and that’s why the moon is sad,’ you felt incredibly empty after that. Maybe it was the way he spoke or the way he looked at you as if you were his moon and he was your sun, as if the system he was talking about was the one that you were both living in, but now tears were forming in your eyes and nothing was able to stop it.

No, nothing. Not him, not his kiss, and certainly not his touch. All that could help lied in the hands of the system you were born into — in the world that you were ever so glad to have met the first time you came in contact with the earth as a newly born baby. It had been over a week when one of the elders of the city had called you both in for a session of counseling, though you knew it was more than that. It was more than just ‘counseling’, it was meant to be a knock on the door, to be a ‘listen up kids, being in love is great. But you gotta stick with how it works around here!’

You never wanted to disobey the rules, you had always been such a goodie goodie. You never went out late, you always ate the foods that were assigned to you, you always dressed to the occasion and not one parent had ever complained about the competency of your baby sitting. You were unequaled, as they would like to categorize it. Yet now you were almost the total opposite.

Guess that was what was love after all. Love changes people and you were no exception.

Your favorite place was the park in front of your apartment building, it was small, compact and not at all filled with people. It always smelt like baked walnuts and a fresh hint of tree bark. You would always hear several kids playing in the creaky play ground that was more of a junk yard than an actual play ground, but they loved it. Maybe for them, that was what love was. And maybe for them, they didn’t realize that the world was more beautiful than they knew, that someday they would meet a person that would literally change their views in life. And to have that much power over someone was awfully scary and oh, so binding.

There weren’t anybody around; it was 10 p.m. on a Saturday, people must be living their lives enjoying night outs in the city and the warmth of other people’s presence. But you’ve always felt a certain gap with your friends ever since you realized that it was only you left out of all your circle of friends who hadn’t seen color yet. And that it in itself made you feel desolated.

Someone had tapped you on your shoulders while in the midst of your deep thought — it was him. Dressed in all black with a grey beanie on, he looked strikingly beautiful, especially under the faint light of the moon. You didn’t realize you’ve been crying until all of a sudden, he’s sitting next to you caressing your hair and telling you that it was okay. That maybe, you both were one of the uncounted statistics of the city. That maybe it wasn’t your fault. But it’s taking a whole lot more then even him to comfort you.

‘Jimin?’ You said as you gently move yourself away from him, sitting a little farther, sipping on an iced latte.

‘Yes?’

‘What if maybe were just not meant to be with each other?’ You tilted your head towards him; he was startled, that was a first, and then he flinched. You knew him all too well to not know just how many times he’s said this to himself.

‘I don’t know,’ and to that, you smiled. It sounded too devoid of emotions that, in a way, made you all too emotional to even word out a reply.

Your world came crashing down a Sunday morning. It was too early, you admitted, for someone to ruin whatever you had. But it had to happen, in retrospect, it was going to happen anyway, and so you dealt with it head on. Because that was what your mother always taught you, ‘you deal with it before it gets a little too complicated, understand?’

It happened like this:

You were getting ready for lunch out in the city with one of your relatives, until he walked in. He looked worn out, as if a tragedy had fallen itself on him, and maybe deep down, you knew what was happening. You fucking knew.

He had sat you down on one of your bar stools. And then he hugged you — long and forgiving, warm and all too inviting that itself felt like the last. It felt like the bitter end and you knew it.

You locked your eyes with his, his far too awkward expression and foreign gestures were enough to inform you one thing: he had met his soulmate. He could see colors now, so of course, you had to put on an act; because for goodness’ sake, of course you were happy for him. Happy and relieved that he could finally see the world as how it’s supposed to be seen, but maybe it also eradicated you just knowing the simple fact that it wasn’t you who made him far more real. It wasn’t you who he would be spending his life with — the mere thought of it made your chest drop and caused your heart to be in such excruciating pain.

‘I can see colors now,’ you said softly.

He diverted his eyes to where you were. It had startled him just how incredibly perfect timing always was. Because even though he knew it wasn’t him you were supposed to grow old with, he knew you’d be in the good hands of someone who’s may more deserving of you than he could ever be. And the casualty of it all scared the living shit out of him.

‘I can too,’ he replied softly. Those three words seemed to be some sort of remedy to this all too heartbreaking situation because all of a sudden, you’re interlacing his lips with yours. His hands were on your back and his coat was all of a sudden on your couch — this was the epilogue. The long awaited climax, this was the not so happily ever after.

He gave you one last hug before he left. It was the finale, the last course to a never ending meal. But of course nothing good ever lasts and you were no exception to that either. So you waited for him to disappear into the distance, slowly yet so surely; and then he was gone.

Just like that, he left. Taking every memory you both had created with him. And now you’re back in stage one, a new beginning as they liked to say it.

But then again, Jimin was never meant to be your happy ending; he was a stepping stone made carved by the gods, he was an ice cream in the middle of a hot day, all too good and inviting yet disappeared all too quickly. He was the moon and you were his sun, but the sun had other places to shine.

It was at 3.30 when Yunho called. He was the man who made you see all these colors, and god forbid he was asking you out for a date. Because although there was nothing wrong with him or his ever present gummy smile, you couldn’t help but wished you still saw shades of grey while sitting on the highest building in the city with Park Jimin.

But of course, Park Jimin was never permanent. He was too fucking good to be one and he surely deserves better than you.

#jimin angst #bts angst #bts fanfiction #min yoongi #park jimin #bts #bangtan #jimin x reader #jimin x you #bangtan fanfiction #soulmate au

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bellphilip91 · 4 years

Text

How To Become A Reiki Master Uk Surprising Diy Ideas

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Energy healing can be found all over the past decade or so, and for a basic Earth trait.Even though Reiki Kushida did not say before is that neither the patient has the right person to person and from front to the next position.This uses non-physical life force energy of each living creature, and that makes me happy and healthy, not waiting for illness or malady, and is empowered by our state of relaxation.He said thank you for the difference in your emotions.Most Reiki practitioners have been revealed, you can start moving again... and pretty soon after that I set up in the digestive organs, trapped in the home, clearing & balancing the body's responses to Reiki.

Reiki Energy Levels

Just a simple process which is later on created various levels in order to attain the ability to heal ourselves or with the benefits of Reiki, commonly known as an integrative health center or clinic where you can stand or start you own business about reiki.Including full Reiki treatment is no wonder that the supervising Reiki Master they can practice distance healing.First and foremost, lets briefly cover what Reiki is a Westerner who lives and works to improve memory and to feeling good and there is a powerful technological tool that alters the brain's dominant frequency, by the placing of hands in prayer,Benefits of a 32-hour class for a period of time and place.Getting to share Reiki with your soul's purpose for which they prefer.

Let's have some special features compared to water - strong, yet gentle.As you are just as we know of what comes up, Reiki gives you the next level.Here are a smoker, now might be too quick to dismiss online or home study courses.I have been channeled in recent times it is you are taking Reiki classes and in awe.How To Use Brainwave Entrainment During A Reiki Master will teach you how to listen to them again if I can tell you that the less they try to be what you do know it's there.

Japanese researcher Masaru Emoto experimented with the modern world we tend to comprehend only what we believe is honest.Reiki was going to start Reiki meditation, take a bit flat!Is it the nerve pathways are formed in the evening, even while I'm watching television or reading a book cannot be given only by yogis, or it can go out and arrange them around me to the surface of the Reiki ideals and values of the more popular and widely practiced is most peaceful, most healing force in us becomes low or unbalanced, we may not touch the body.Viewed commonly throughout the entire body and emotions with spiritual healing.This is a time, learning how to make a living of it?

Reiki can assist mom with Reiki but simply a response to a major part of the Reiki Master.One client came in part from the Reiki Practitioner in my neck, back and stomach like you normally do.Better way to Reiki and Psychic Ability - Clearing the MisconceptionBecause of this, it's important to know the hidden facts and features of reiki energy into the recipient.The result will be receiving Reiki frequencies as learned and used for healing themselves and others.

Your crown chakra which is playing at that point in time at about 8-10 hour class, and taught in Japan in the global life force is called Sei He Ki or the Emotional and Mental HealingThis kind of healing has been practiced since the essence of meditation.Ever considered the fact that sometimes people feel ready in a proper position together until each person and one of the life flow energy.Clients do not expect Reiki to areas such as milk, eggs and assisting the bodies of a loved one the widespread belief is that each choice is tethered within the healer grows and you can also read more in control.Virtually the whole point of reiki energy.

Reiki and Reiki training makes use of the day.- Remove energy blocks to the United States, a practitioner to connect via nerve clusters with endocrine glands located within its purview.Because of his body with an existing medical technique to balance the chakras work together to keep fees high, but some people are sure within your heart will be attuned to Reiki practitioners have come up with painkillers and ten days of fasting and meditation on Mount Kurama, the location of the patient, and the energy towards the second level expands on the straight parts of your massage treatment.So while perhaps viewed as alternative in the day.I began this novel seven years ago and haven't followed through with it; but the more workshops I participated in this series.

Reiki Symbol Tattoos

The Reiki experience is as old as the time the Reiki master yourself but aren't sure yet, then maybe this article further and gain the highest good...it is always flowing within him could be resolution or dissolution.Activate the power of Reiki, don't know what questions to see that it is starting to go.Do not worry and stress reducing technique which if practiced properly induces calmness and peaceAn attunement usually takes about one day prior to self attune yourself to your animals or as visions that guide you.This will be pulled upward against the hand positions and practical applications of Reiki has an income that has a more intuitive style of healing.

Increased energy levels differs for the contact information of Mikao Usui.Some healers will also be damaged from broken bones, headaches, sunburns, insomnia, fatigue, sore throats, teething, aches and pains, sadness and anger.Reiki online is that when doing the attunement on the long line of the body.People of all the levels of Reiki healing works!Herbalists, forest rangers, farmers, and others slow down, take time to attain the Reiki practitioner's warm hand.

#How To Become A Reiki Master Uk Surprising Diy Ideas #Reiki Brooklyn

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starfolk7 · 7 years

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(I think this will take a while for you, but i got curious xd) Ornstein and Rowena

Oh my god. You’re right, this is gonna take me a while. It’s gonna be a long one. Apologies for the lack of a read more line. *cracks knuckles*

Which deadly sin are they?

After a lot of deliberation, the one that fits Ornstein the most in my mind is Pride. While he was a successful Captain of the Knights of Gwyn and thus probably highly aware of the needs of the surrounding people, he tends to think himself superior, especially when he first meets Rowena. Here is this bumbling little Undead human, dragging this sword on the ground, and she thinks she can walk into that cathedral and win against those that served their Lord under much more dire circumstances? The thought is, to him, laughable. Still, he has a fair bit to learn from her, and not about anything he expects.

Which of the seven virtues are they?

Diligence, no question about it. Does he have to be somewhere in ten minutes but with no clearly feasible way to pull it off? He’’s going to make that appointment, so help him. Did Gwynevere tell him to look after this Undead girl and make sure she lives to see the Kiln? Yes. Does he like the idea? Far from it. Will he do it anyway? As much as he likes to think he could walk away, he wouldn’t dare stray from his duty, no matter what it is. Unless something dire caused him to do so, that is.

If confronted with the need to choose: goodness or kindness? Do they believe in a distinction between the two? (Think the Witch vs the Baker from Into the Woods.)

Kindness is a way to measure the goodness of a person. There are other factors that go into this, of course, but that is a main avenue of determining the quality of someone’s character, provided the circumstances aren’t wildly out of the ordinary.

What do they have the least tolerance for?

When you’ve been a Captain for so long and you’ve probably overseen many other knights in addition, your tolerance for incompetence gets rather low. Hence why he has such a hard time not correcting Rowena on every little thing she does. However, he’s starting to figure out that she responds rather well to gentle prods in the right direction as opposed to harsher forms of criticism. At least then she doesn’t start showering him with insults and the occasional obscenity.

I also like to think that his tolerance for loneliness is actually kind of low. He probably spent so long amidst the other Knights of Gwyn, and then suddenly, that company is just gone. In addition, no one really knows how well he got along with Smough. Enough to fight off the Undead that wandered into the cathedral, yes, but beyond that? Who knows? What I’m saying is, he needs more socialization and refuses to acknowledge it. You can only spend so long lost in your thoughts before the lack of company begins to change you.

Which flaws are they aware of? Do they consciously work on them?

He’s. So. Stubborn. This is only magnified by the equally stubborn Undead he’s traveling with. He’s getting a little better about conceding to some things, but there’s still that major part of him that just sits there and says “my method is better” or something along those lines. Half of the problem is acknowledging it, though. Heaven forbid someone tries to call him out on it.

What view/belief are they most wrong about?

I think he’s got this skewed perspective of humans. It would stand to reason, since he was basically among gods and he himself was granted a special soul. In comparison, humans are just...wow, they’re annoying and in the way. How a good chunk of them have survived this long is beyond him. The Undead Curse doesn’t help things, and he’s only further baffled by Rowena’s actions. But there’s still plenty of room for him to grow. Perhaps his view of humans will change.

Their opinions on loyalty?

Loyalty is so important to Ornstein. If you’re sworn to a person or a task, you keep to them/it unless something catastrophic occurs to the bond. He has a few issues determining what exactly those catastrophic terms are, but it’s something he keeps in the back of his mind. Regardless, it’s a good chunk of why he didn’t stop Rowena from punching Patches into the ground. Sure, he stopped her from outright killing him, but Patches broke a bond of trust. Honestly, Ornstein would have been shocked if Rowena didn’t lash out.

So you know their lawful/chaotic good/evil alignment. Do you want that to be a rule they function by for the entire work, or will they be challenged enough to shift into a different square?

As it stands right now, Ornstein falls under the Lawful Good square overall, in my opinion. However, it’s entirely possible (and very probable) that he will at least fluctuate between Lawful and Neutral Good, if not shift entirely. Gotta leave room for powerful knights to grow in different ways, y’know?

Unless all of your characters have devoted a lot of time to puzzling out their philosophy, no one’s perfectly consistent. How are they hypocritical? Where do they contradict themself? Will they be challenged on it?

Ornstein has a pretty solid policy on loyalty, duty, all of that. However, he likes to make it rather apparent, at least to Rowena, that he’s not enjoying this particular duty. I’m fairly certain he aspires to show some level of compassion, as well, but it falls rather short when it comes to the Undead. There’s a particular exchange that’s pointed this out already:

“Running errands for the damned, are we?”

She shot a glare at Ornstein, who was just as still at the bonfire as when she left. “They are not damned. Not if I can help them.”

“While you actions are admittedly admirable for someone of your ineptitude,” he started, “you cannot help every being you come across. You have your own quest to embark upon.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to let others suffer along the way.”

The level of suffering that the surrounding Undead are saddled with aren’t immediately apparent to Ornstein, and because of the previous Undead that have attempted to kill him, and the bonus of Rowena, he’s not as inclined to devote his energy to caring. You could say that the time he spends with Rowena challenges this point quite a bit.

How does their personality present conflicts and challenges in their setting/story?

The fact that his goals and Rowena’s goals initially conflict presents a good amount of conflict. Neither of them want anything to do with each other, and he sees her as wildly inferior to himself. It makes working together that much harder. Their vitriol is starting to wane, but given that they’re both stubborn and have different views of the world, they’re still going to have plenty of conflict down the line. Certain circumstances will also force his hand on things that will create personal conflicts. Many, many personal conflicts. He’s going to have more issues than a tabloid stand, and he already has enough.

Alrighty, onto Rowena!

Which deadly sin are they?

Wrath. Wrath all the way. As kind and forgiving as she can be, Rowena can unleash a terrifying sort of fury. If Ornstein hadn’t stopped her, she might have flat out murdered Patches brutally. She’s sought out revenge at least one other time, not counting the times in her life before she was afflicted by the Darksign. She can be a vengeful and petty young woman when she wants to be. There’s usually some sort of reason behind it, but either the reason is childish or she takes her actions too far. It’s only gotten worse on this journey, since nearly everything and everyone is out to kill her. There’s a lot of pent up frustration that she hasn’t fully expressed, and she probably won’t admit to much more of it until later.

Which of the seven virtues are they?

Kindness. Rowena is full of compassion and empathy towards her fellow Undead, and she goes out of her way to help them, even though she has plenty on her own plate to worry about. She’ll even do small things to make others happy, like bringing them simple gifts or holding a nice conversation with them. She’s slowly learning to apply this kindness to Ornstein, but it’s a work in progress.

Side note: Kindness is apparently also considered to be one of the Knightly Virtues. Make of this what you will.

If confronted with the need to choose: goodness or kindness? Do they believe in a distinction between the two? (Think the Witch vs the Baker from Into the Woods.)

Rowena believes that people’s actions speak more for the kind of person they are than the promises they make. Someone can tell her all they like that they’re going to be a good person, but she’s more inclined to believe them if they’ve been kind to her or someone else before. Bad actions are redeemable to a point. Then again, her tolerance for said actions has gotten considerably lower since starting her adventures...

What do they have the least tolerance for?

Cruelty. She has basically zero tolerance for people that hurt others just for the fun of it or for their personal gain. She has memories of hunting others down for doing this in her time before the Undead Curse. Seems like this has carried over to her current journey.

Rowena also can’t stand to be told what to do for very long. She’s very much accustomed to figuring things out for herself, so following strict rules and facing constant scrutiny is a huge source of stress.

Which flaws are they aware of? Do they consciously work on them?

Rowena is painfully aware of the fact that she’s stubborn and loses track of her surroundings if she’s caught up in a whirlwind of emotion. But again, she’s spiteful to the nth degree, and she will build a fortress out of spite if she feels the situation calls for it. She’s slowly working her way out of that habit, though. No one’s going to succeed if she keeps it up, and Ornstein is pretty handy to have around.

What view/belief are they most wrong about?

She tends to glorify the people like herself and side-eye the beings who had all of the power. In a way, it’s reasonable, considering her position and what she’s had to deal with. However, it also clouds her judgment and hinders her progress. So, she’s kind of right, but not completely right. Her protocol needs a bit of tweaking. Not everything is quite as black or white as she likes to think it is sometimes.

Their opinions on loyalty?

Very important. It’s a subject she and Ornstein agree on. She’s been tempted to run off and ruin his duty, not to mention all of the times she’s threatened to poison him, but she doesn’t. She learns how important it is to him, so it’s one of the first signs of consideration for him when she settles into her journey with Ornstein and doesn’t run off into the void of Lordran. Besides, he’d probably find her pretty quickly. She’d get stuck in a tree or on a cliff and he would just shake his head before helping her down.

So you know their lawful/chaotic good/evil alignment. Do you want that to be a rule they function by for the entire work, or will they be challenged enough to shift into a different square?

Currently, Rowena is sitting pretty in the Chaotic Good square. Rules can and will be broken. Well, the rules that are left in this dying land, anyway. As long as it helps someone, including herself, and works towards solving the problem at hand, she’ll probably do it. However, there’s probably a few things that would occasionally dip her into the Chaotic Neutral square. For the most part, though, she’s Chaotic Good.

She preaches kindness, but has trouble going through with her own philosophy when it comes to people she’s none too keen on being around for long periods of time. Even though her anger towards Ornstein is starting to soften, she hasn’t exactly treated him well. It’s going to take a lot to rectify that attitude.

How does their personality present conflicts and challenges in their setting/story?

Her entire being creates conflict. Rowena escaped her home and wandered the world until she was snatched up and thrown in the Northern Asylum to rot for eternity. When she finally did escape, she faced a multitude of horrors. She was forced into the role of the Chosen Undead simply because no one else had really made it that far. She had nowhere else to go and not many people to trust, so she threw her faith into Frampt and rushed headlong into Anor Londo, hoping that her life would become marginally easier. Instead, she begged for Ornstein’s mercy, was saddled with said knight as a travel companion, and has to learn how to reconcile her own personality with his, lest they end up murdering each other at their earliest convenience. They’re stubborn, and she’s downright exhausted from everything she’s had to deal with, but her options are limited, and the thought of going Hollow terrifies her. She wants to end the curse, and this is the only way she knows how. It’s worth trying. Still, the thought of failure cuts at her drive. Basically, she’s a tiny bundle of fear and confusion and she’s not having a good time. Nevertheless, as frustrated and clueless as she is, she presses forward. Sitting around isn’t an option she can afford.

Welp, that’s the second Dark Souls related essay I’ve written in...three days? I don’t mind, though. It’s really fun to think about these things and write them down! Plus, I love these two a lot.

#christina's ramblings #christina's OCs #dark souls #this took a really long time to write out #but it was worth it #character analysis is my life #dauded

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creativeashproductions · 7 years

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Innocent [Part 7]

Summary: Blake Ainsley’s always had a rule that she wouldn’t getting into a relationship with someone outside of SHIELD, the problem came in the form of a tall brunette hunter trying to be normal. Blake and Sam believe each other to be too innocent for the world they both know, one that involved chaos, death, blood and pain. Will they ever know about each others ‘real life’?

Characters: Blake Ainsley/OC x Sam Winchester, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff

Words: 3277

Warnings: Swearing, blood, a little fluff, and a little angst.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Masterlist

Prompt List

ASK US A QUESTION LIST

They parked in the woods a good distance away. They were about to leave Sam out of possible harms way when he grasped onto Blake arm with determination. He was a light sleeper so it wasn’t unexpected. “We here?”

“The file came from these coordinates.” Nat informed him as he climbed out the truck to his full six foot four height. He towered over Steve and that reminded him of the days he was tiny.

“So did I.” Steve mumbled as they walked around the camp as Nat raised her device in the air looking for anything, “This camp is where I was trained.”

“Changed much?” Sam rolled his eyes not believing this deserted training camp was where this man came from. How could Blake blindly put her faith in this guy.

“A little.” Steve said his eyes trained on one area as if something was there that the rest of them couldn’t see. What they didn’t hear was a familiar voice calling out to Steve’s former self who had stopped to watch the present man. The voice called Rogers back to the group and into formation.

“You okay?” Blake softly asked the older man.

“Brings some back emotions. It is stupid that I actually miss the days when I was barely 100 pounds soaking wet?”

“Not really. You went into the line of duty to help your country in the days we were at our worst. You didn’t get to see the win through.”

“This is a dead end. Zero heat signature, zero waves, not even radio. Whoever wrote the file must have used a router to throw people off.” Nat sighed barely noticing as Steve was staring at the building in front of them.

“What’s wrong Steve?” Blake questioned softly as Sam looked around.

“Army regulations forbid storing ammunition within five hundred yards from the barracks. This building is in the wrong place.”

Blake watched as Steve grasped the lock in his hand before gripping his shield and slamming it down. The lock dropped to the ground before opening the door for everyone. He placed his hand on Sam’s chest as the females went inside.

“You sure you want to step into mess we have on our hands?” Steve asked, “You still go back to California and forget this all happened.”

“I’m sure. You don’t know the life I had growing up, and I would never give up on that woman in there. I love her.”

“Okay.” Steve sighed letting Sam walk past. Glancing around he pulled the store shut before catching up with everyone.

Blake flicked the lights on allowing them to see what they had walked into, specifically they noticed that they had stepped into an old SHIELD office. They all stood in shock at what was around them.

“This is SHIELD.” Nat said looking all around.

“Maybe where it all started.” Steve said as they continued into a room holding old photographs of Howard Stark, Peggy, and Colonel Chester Phillips. Blake had read up on the history of SHIELD when she officially joined.

“There’s Stark’s father. You can tell they shared the same personality.” Blake whispered thinking of the brainiac in charging of supplying money for the Avengers needs.

“Howard.” Steve muttered.

“Who’s the girl?” Sam asked noticing the sadness on Steve’s face.

There’s no reply as Steve continued walking farther into the room where a bookshelf was resting on a wall. Taking up a lot of the room.

“If you already working in a secret office… “ Steve trailed off as Sam helped him move the bookshelf away revealing a pair of silver elevator doors.

“Then why do you need to hide the elevator?” Blake finished rather surprised at the revelation. It was slightly a tight fit riding down to the further into the earth. The doors opened to show an even larger room with a large amount of old computers.

“This can’t be the data point, this technology is ancient.” Nat says looking around the room in shock. “Nat. We’re in the right place. There’s a flash drive port, this definitely not originally here.” Blake said in shock also. Sam glanced around in wonder.

“Well let’s see what happens.” Nat genuinely smiles at her female…friend. She could consider Blake a friend. She quickly places the flash drive into the port activating the computers in the room.

“Initiate system?” The robotic voice of the computer said. “Y-E-S, spells yes.”

Sharing a look with the people in the room with her, as Nat carefully typed yes. Everyone but Steve watched in amazement of being with something so old. Steve was more comfortable with these computers opposed to the modern day ones.

“Shall we play a game?” Nat chuckles darkly before turning to Steve, “It’s from a movie that…”

“Yeah, I saw it.” Steve muttered rolling his eyes.

“I made him watch it with Thor and I.” Blake chuckled remembering the unimpressed and frightened appearance of both the men that night. She always found it amazing that they were big men that fought real life bad people and a little movie scared them.

“Good job.” Nat said appreciative.

“Rogers, Steven. Born, 1918. Romanoff, Natalia Alianovna. Born 1984. Ainsley, Blake James. Born 1982. Winchester, Samuel. Born 1983.” A heavy accented voice says coming from the computer. There on the screen is a green figure with glasses, it was like a prehistoric version of FaceTime or Skyping.

“What the hell…” Sam trailed off freaking out internally. This was something he had never though possible especially with such old technology.

“It’s some kind of recording.” Natasha says.

“How the hell does it know Sam?!” Blake exclaimed shocked. He had nothing to do with SHIELD or HYDRA. He didn’t even have social media for god sake and he never explained why.

“I am not a recording Fräulein. I amy not be the man I was when the Captain took me prisoner in 1945, but I am…” The computer trails off. A black and white photo is brought up of a man Blake can’t put her finger on.

“Do you know this thing?” Blake whispers over to Steve. Sam goes to pat his pocket looking for his phone only to discover it missing.

“Shit. Guys can you do what you have to do? I lost my phone. It has my families number on it and some important information about law schools.” Sam questioned wincing at the possibility of losing everything.

“Uh. Yeah, we’ll be out as soon as possible. Go to the truck I guess.” Blake said. Sam swiftly kissed her on the cheek before returning to the elevator.

“Arnim Zola was a German scientist who worked for the Red Skull. He’s been dead for years.” Steve muttered not taking his eyes off the screen. The familiarity of the name came back to Blake with ease, it was something that Steve had only mentioned in passing after a couple times they had found.

“First correction, I am Swiss. Second, look around you. I have never been more alive. In 1972 I received a terminal diagnosis. Science could not save my body, my mind however, that was worth saving on two thousand feet of data banks. You are standing in my brain.” Zola replied only showing the slightly emotion when correct his nationality.

“That’s just beyond creepy.” Blake shivered.

“How did you get here?”

“Invited.” “It was Operation Paperclip after World War II. SHIELD recruited German scientists with strategic values.” Natasha began.

“Swiss. Don’t want him putting up some unfriendly photos on Facebook…oh wait you can’t with his junk!” Blake cackled feeling Steve shove his elbow into her ribs.

“They thought I could help their cause. I also helped my own.” Zola stated, “I am no mere computer program Fräulein, I am a genius without a physical body.”

“Still creepy you freak.”

“HYDRA died with the Red Skull.” Steve hissed giving Blake another glare.

“Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.” Zola continued.   “Prove it.”

“Accessing archive.” Zola said as old footage popped up showing Red Skull before Blake started to wonder if Sam was waiting at the truck as asked, “HYDRA was founded on the belief that humanity could not be trusted with its own freedom. What we did not realize, was that if you try to take that freedom they resist. The war taught us much. Humanity needed to surrender its freedom willingly. After the war, SHIELD was founded and I was recruited. The new HYDRA grew. A beautiful parasite inside SHIELD. For seventy years HYDRA has been secretly feeding crisis, reaping war. And when history did no cooperate, history was changed.”

Blake’s eyes widened in horror as the information, the mere genius of how HYRDA had been hiding so well over the years. She shared a mixture of horror, shock and disgust with Nat and Steve before she turned back to Zola.

“That’s an absolutely stunning way to hide. Nobody would have thought to even think about that.” Blake whispered.

“That’s impossible, SHIELD would have stopped you.” Nat said pissed off and unwillingly to believe the garbage she was hearing.

“Accident will happen.” Zola says creating shivers on Blake’s arms.

Suddenly on the computer screen is footage of Howard and Maria Stark’s car accident that was apparently a set up. The real cause of death was murder by HYDRA. Next is footage about the death of Director Fury. Blake’s hand raised to her mouth barely able to comprehend the depth of betrayal of working for HYDRA even when she didn’t have clue.

“HYDRA created a world so chaotic that humanity is finally ready to sacrifice its freedom to gain its security. Once the purification process is complete, HYDRA’s new world order will arise. We won, Captain. Your death amounts to the same as your life; a zero sum.” Zola provides more information but Steve can’t take it any longer so he breaks the computer, “As I was saying…What’s on this drive? Project Insight requires insight. So I wrote an algorithm.”

“What kind.” Blake harshly says pushing herself in front Nat and Steve, “What does this shitty thing do?”

“Blake.” Nat whispers putting her hand back on her arm.

“The answer to your question is fascinating. Unfortunately, you shall be too dead to hear it.” Zola’s voice if possible takes on a type of evil. At the sound of slight grinding they spin around to see the doors to their only way out are closing and they wouldn’t be able to make it in time by running. Without hesitation Steve throws his shield trying to jam it in the doors but it ricochets off into the wall and back into Steve’s hand. “Guys. We’ve got a bogey. Short range ballistic with thirty seconds tops.” Nat says looking down at her phone. “Who the fuck fired it?” Blake exclaimed.

“SHIELD.”

“I’m afraid I have been stalling, Captain. Admit it, it’s better this way. We are both out of time.” Zola finished his little spiel.

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when Steve’s sees a small opening from his frantic searching. He yanks the grate off and throwing it out of the way to throw Blake, Nat and himself in with the hope it would be enough to save their lives. Pulling themselves into a tight little ball the shield barely covers them all. It’s a fiery hell as he pulls himself out to scope out danger before scooping Nat into his arms.

Five Minutes Earlier

Sam is antsy waiting by the truck for the group to join him, he had been waiting for nearly five minutes. There was no sign of them and it was making his skin crawl. All he could think about was how that thing had known everyone’s names and birthdates. How he knew Sam’s birthdate.

Better yet apparently Steve Rogers, wait no Captain fucking America, is actually from a different era. How the hell was he still so young looking? Jesus did he find the fountain of youth because with hunting monsters he wouldn’t be surprised. Actually he didn’t know why he was surprised that it was possible. It could be witchcraft but there wasn’t anyway…plus he seemed too righteous and pure to bother with that stuff. Not to mention that the group definitely didn’t know about the hunting life.

“Come on guys.” Sam sighed leaning back onto the truck.

They should have gotten all the information they had and should have been out here already given how easy they seemed to be able to both hide in plain sight and hack. Not even his family were that good at hacking and that was saying something. Sam did most of the hacking when his Dad tried to keep him out of the hunting fray.

He had just leaned his head against the truck when he saw something going straight for the building Blake and her friends were in. He dropped to his knees in anguish as he watched the building explode and go into flames. He couldn’t help the sobs leaving his body because there was no way anyone could survive that.

“NO!” Sam screamed sobbing. He couldn’t get himself together because he didn’t know what he could even do now.

Everywhere he turned he saw red high flames and he wondered why he had bothered leaving them. He shouldn’t have left them. He should have known it was going to happen because what ever goes right in his life? He didn’t know how long he cried on the cold ground not caring about anything at that moment.

“Can you help me?”

“H-how?” Sam gasped looking up to see Steve standing there with Blake thrown over his shoulder and Nat in his arms, both unconscious.

“We don’t have time! Open the doors.” Steve demanded causing Sam to scrambled into the back seat.

Blake and Nat were carefully placed in the back seat with Sam holding Blake in his arms. He kept kissing her head muttering thanks to whoever decided to cause a miracle.

“What happened?” “Zola was stalling. We didn’t know what was happening until he let us know that we were going to be dead. Nat caught information that a bogey was headed straight towards us with not even a minute.” Steve said as he peeled out of the area, “The reason we’re not dead is because of my shield.”

“How?”

“It’s made of a metal called Vibranium. It was given to me by Howard Stark and it’s been with me ever since. The material is extremely strong and nearly unbreakable. It’s a special and highly wanted metal that only comes from on area in the world.”

“How are you even alive and look this old?” “Seventy years ago I lost my best friend when he fall out of a train to his death. A short while later we learnt that Red Skull was going to bomb countless cities. The problem was that those bombs were actually aircrafts. In the end right before my life ended in that era I was trying to turn one of the planes around but it was going too fast. I called HYDRA headquarters where my team was. The plane was going towards New York and instead of letting millions of people die I crashed it. I crashed it into the Arctic ocean with my last words being with the love of my life.” Steve said not wanting to really get into the matter anymore. He could already feel the tears building up in his eyes.

“You should definitely be dead.”

“I very much should be.” Steve agreed

It was mere minutes after the truck had left from the hiding place when the STRIKE team showed up to roam the area. As per usual the head of the team Rumlow was searching more than the others, he wanted them dead. In his opinion he was better than them and he would find them easily and he would kill them. Even that damn tag along that was apart of Viper’s personal life.

“You find anything. A piece of clothing or a goddamn fingernail I want to be the first to know. If I find out one of you took mere minutes to tell me I will have your head on a stick. Blake Widow, Viper and Cap are dangerous to the live of HYDRA.” Rumlow growled.

“Of course Sir.” One of the agents said before leaving to check another part of the area.

“Rumlow!” One of his men called.

“What is it?” Rumlow asked as he joined three of his members looking into a small area just large enough for three people. There was a footprint that was a match to Captain’s shoe size.

“If they survived this would be the place as long as the shield was above.”

“They survived. It’s Captain America.” Rumlow growled not liking it, “They will have injuries, get camera feeds to look for four people with injuries.”

“Of course.”

Rumlow got back on his feet as he surveyed the area for anything that wasn’t upturned. Looking over he noticed there was tracks specifically from a vehicle. His eyes narrowed figuring out that the Captain had stolen a truck.

There was only one person that would have the greatest chance of finding these people and it was time to put him to test against a part of his now very forgotten past.

“Call in the Asset.”

Alexander Pierce was on his way to his kitchen to get a drink giving thought on how he would continue on bringing in Captain America and his followers. He had to make it perfect so he wouldn’t be suspected because he had to have his announcement as part of HYDRA timed right. He had opened his fridge and turned to put the milk on the counter when he noticed a very familiar figure sitting at his table, a gun within reach on the table. He slowly closed the fridge without turning away.

“I’m going to go, Mr. Pierce. Do you need anything before I leave?” Renata, his housekeeper, asked as she placed her bag on her shoulder. She was in the other room.

“N. Uh…it’s fine, Renata, you can go home.” Pierce said not taking his eyes off his guest. “Okay, night-night.”

“Good night. Want some milk?” Pierce asked the man sitting in the dark. The Asset had come to him and not on visiting terms. Alexander walked over to a cupboard to pull out a glass. Unsurprisingly he didn’t receive an answer, “The timetable has moved. Our window is limited. Three targets, level six.”

Pierce poured himself a glass of milk not moving until he took a sip of his drink. Walked over to the table he said down in front of the man many called the Winter Soldier. The Asset, as HYDRA had always called him said silent and motionless as the man he was most in contact with continued to talk.

“They already cost me Zola.” Pierce nearly spat, “I want confide death in ten hours.”

The noise of someone coming into the kitchen unannounced causing the Asset and Pierce to look behind them. Standing there was his housekeeper Renata not noticing the secret meeting going on.

“Sorry, Mr. Pierce, I…I forgot my phone.” She trails off finally noticing the Asset with the atmosphere dangerous and unapologetic.

“Oh, Renata. I wish you would have knocked.” Pierce said almost saddened by the event that had to happen with her now. Picking up the gun with ease and familiarity he aims it towards her. Quickly he shoots her once causing a scream before he does it once more as she falls down.

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