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sopxhiea · 3 years

Text

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Alfie finds himself in a party thrown in a finishing school that teaches ladies how to be proper in all senses of the world but a rare jewel of a wild young woman catches his eye.

“Sorry, is that supposed to impress me?”

Gold and silk.

It’s on the walls, coated in layers of sparkly paint as light reflects to the silk curtains. It’s on the tables, dozens of champagne bottles resting on top of the finest silk material while the sweet classical music fills the marble walls. The place reeks of the posh and their extravagant perfumes.

Alfie’s forcefully brought to the occasion.

Miriam, the old woman who’s appreciative of Alfie’s donations to the community, had decided that it was time for the man to make more public appearances. She’d forced the grumpy man into the crowd and the fancy outing as a way of branching out to the rest of the community for the Jews.

The night is organised by a bunch of English community elders for the new women’s school opened up right around the corner. It’s easy to recognise their pupils, all of them dressed properly as they greet as many guests as they can. Young ladies are all over the room, their lavish dresses flowing around their legs as they flash their kindest smiles to the people around.

Except you.

Accident, fate or bad luck. It was one of the three that had caused you to end up in the said school. Apparently, you weren’t a proper lady and also happened to lack the ability to act your age, or so you had been told after climbing a tree with your friend to get your hands on the fruit it so graciously had blessed you with.

It didn’t bother you in the slightest but there you were now, standing in a room full of bourgeoisie in a slim dress tailored by one of the maids who worked for the house you stayed in. Unlike all your other classmates, your face is absent of any smiles and the only thing that leaves your lips are snarky remarks.

Annabelle, who also happens to be your etiquette teacher, pinches your arms every now and then to either get you to act properly or to shut you up but it doesn’t work. You know her harsh movements are bound to create bruises on your arms but you don’t care, you hate every moment of the forced event.

You’re the odd one out, naturally.

Although you’re dressed properly with fine jewels and silk gloves, your fake laugh does not fill the air. You’re sulking, almost, as you listen to one of the elderly man talk about his business to your friends and you while you stand around.

The crowd is made up of women with rich men on their arms, just what your uncle wanted you to be when he had put you in the school two months ago. They’re wearing their finest dresses, most of their hairs are kept in a short form as they plaster smiles on their paint covered faces, nails painted with vibrant colours while they laugh at a stupid joke the rich makes.

And there’s him.

He doesn’t stand out per se, just when you manage to observe him for a while. He’s wearing a suit much like everyone else in the room but there’s something rough about him, something rugged as you stare at the broad man. He has an elderly woman on his arm, she’s talking his ear off while his eyes roam around the spacious room.

You don’t look away when his blue orbs meet yours.

He’s watched you all night and although you’d been sulking for most of the time, he still thought that you were the most beautiful woman he’d seen in a long while. He’d seen you make smart remarks towards some of the gentlemen, putting them in their place before you would walk to the bar to get some relief.

But this time, there’s a gentle smile on your lips.

He feels his breath get caught on his throat but he’s quick to recover while your gaze returns to the boring old man in front of you. Your dress is similar to the ones the girls are wearing but it hugs your body a little tighter, a fine pearl necklace graces your neck. Your hair is not short, opposed to most of the women around, but kept in wavy shape as it creates a frame around your soft features.

You seem like the youngest of them all.

But you also happen to be the wildest. In the last two months of you being there, all you’d caused was trouble. You’d not sleep and climb out of windows to disappear for a day or two. Your uncle would bring you back with a frown on his old face but you’d find a way to make trouble and piss the ladies off again. It was the only fun thing to do around the house you were kept in.

“It was very lovely to talk to you about your boring business.” you speak to the elderly man who’d been talking for the past hour with you and your friends, a smile rests on your painted lips. The man frowns at your words and is about to speak up when you wave at him and disappear towards the bar once again.

Alfie watches you as you move.

Your painted lips that had just been faking a smile now greet the transparent material of the crystal that holds the liquor you so badly need. You take a couple sips, a sheepish smirk on your lips as you feel someone approaching you from behind. You can tell who it is, his steps aren’t the most subtle or rhythmic.

Your small figure turns around swiftly turns around to face the pleasant stranger, a contagious smile on your lips as you look at him from head to toe. He sees the glint of wickedness swimming around in your orbs and he’s sure you’re the girl every cockney has been trying to get their hands on.

Alfie’s heard of a young woman who just won’t behave. As far as he’s concerned, most people think she should be married off to some boring bloke but the uncle won’t let them do it and he’s the only family she’s got. He’s heard of the wild dancing, the kind of moves that are nothing but filth and also the countless times of the escapes she’s made.

And there you are, the infamous wild lady, standing right in front of him.

“Hello, Mister.” you say, amused as you giggle at him. He copies your expression, a low smile on his lips while you feel his smell take over you, vanilla and rum.

“’ello to yourself, Miss.” he speaks, accent dripping from each word as you watch him, he’s even more handsome up close.

Your eyes drift along his tall form, he’s still tall even though you have your heels on. Your gaze lingers on his white shirt, it’s not as smooth as it was when he came in, or so you figure. He’s dressed sharp, his facial hair kept in a nice shape as the golden wires glisten underneath the many candles and chandeliers around. You don’t bother and be subtle as your eyes drink him but he’s doing the same to you.

You chuckle lowly as he takes a sip of the drink you’re holding, it’s much too strong but you’re only getting started.

“You, yeah, are makin’ quite the noise today.” he speaks, not a swear word within the sentence since he’s being proper for the occasion.

“As per usual.” you say, a sweet smile on your lips while you lean on the wall and he hovers tall above you, his face inching a little closer each time he speaks. “Interested?” you speak, wanting him to say yes because he seems to be the only one worth spending time with around here.

“I ain’t answering to that, love.” he says, head shaking at his own words and you watch him under the pleasant light as they create shadows around his face, he’s far too good looking for a bloke with his reputation.

Your eyes drop to his hand, decorated with lines and bands of rings and a crown tattoo, the rough skin makes you smile as your soft fingers trace his. His eyes flutter, the slow song filling the night and flowing out of the spacious house you’re both standing in. You blink a few times, seeing the glint of thrill in his eyes as you stare and stare, the night is long.

But your patience is non-existent.

“You’re no fun, Mister.” your words are barely audible as they leave your lips and he knows you’re teasing, his eyes flutter once more as a small whine leaves your lips and it’s all it takes for him to be envisioning your naked frame, although he’s already done it multiple times up until that point.

You try to be sweeter, appeal to his good nature to get what you want. You know that if a lady from the school is to leave today, with a gentlemen on her arm, it is allowed and you see it as your exit ticket to never return to the hell of a place. Your hands trace the head of his cane, feeling the cold material contrast the warmth of his hands. “What shall I call you?” you ask, danger swimming in your orbs.

“Name’s Solomons, luv.” he speaks, knowing that he needs to be proper and that means saving his name for the more intimate part of the conversation but you don’t seem pleased with the consideration from his part.

“No.” you speak, like a whiny girl and he thinks you’re the most charming whiny girl he’s seen but he waits for your painted lips to part and the sound of your sweet voice. “I knew that. Tell me what you like to be called.” you speak, voice smooth as silk as it delivers the words. He wonders what your voice would sound like if his head was between your soft legs.

There’s evident evil in your eyes but he’s drawn to it, like moth to a flame.

You half expect for him to tell you something absurd. This isn’t something you ask other people but in the rare occasion that you play with fire, the answers have been nothing but disappointing. They’d told you to call them baby, husband or sweetheart.

How pathetic, you thought.

“Alfie.” he speaks, voice low as his eyes don’t leave yours. A smile finds your lips and he stops himself from leaning in and kissing them.

“That’s a very good name.” you speak, satisfied for the first time in a while with a man’s answer. They seem too dull to you, most men are shallow and simply daft but this one seems to shine on you.

“Fuckin’ flattering old me.” he speaks, amused as he shakes his head and clicks his tongue. You’re far too young for him but that doesn’t seem to occur to you as you ogle him.

“Old?” you speak into his face, your perfume surrounding him as you play with his crisp shirt. He’s close to kissing you senseless but he figures Miriam wants him to act proper for the event. “I don’t think so.” you speak again, answering your own question and he watches the light flicker on your face.

“What is a pretty little bird like you doin’ in the corner?” he speaks, breath almost fanning your face while you almost lose yourself in the smell of him. He seems promising thus far.

You look up at him with an open mouth, seeing as he’s interested. Your agape mouth turns to a smile soon after, this victim of yours seems like a proper gentlemen. The truth was, you didn’t really belong there from the start, it was your uncle’s masterplan since your deceased parents were far too gone to do anything. You’d be a proper lady and the school would tame you down, get you a goodie two shoes husband and let you be on your best way.

But you weren’t the little gentle kid they were expecting.

Trouble made life worth living, there was no fun in the four walls you slept in most days and occasions like these were your ticket for the exit. You knew you’d have to tell the head of the class that you’re leaving with a gentlemen but that’s the point of the occasion, to make sure the girls get to know the people around and maybe even snag a husband of their own.

“Talking to you.” you speak, eyes looking up at the tall, handsome man as he sizes you up. He’s already made up his mind to donate a good amount of money to your school solely because of you.

“Ya’ know who I am, lass?” he speaks, no swearing induced with his words because he sees just how young you are, even though you look younger than you are.

“You just told me. Mr.Solomons.” you whisper against his face, voice breathy as his eyes threaten to flutter.

But you barely have a clue.

“I, yeah, am a bad fuckin’ man, luv.” he speaks, eyes locked into yours as his face moves. You watch the way his lips shift with each word and a blush rises on your cheeks. You giggle against his face this time, the music in the room constantly changes its melody.

“Sorry, is that supposed to impress me?” your voice is filled with amusement and laughter. It’s not like you’ve asked him to fuck you or take you home, not just yet.

He looks at you with wide eyes, taken aback by the bravery of such a little thing. You don’t have an ounce of fear in your eyes as you smile up at him and he speaks before you can.

“I don’t think, right, you want to be seen with me, luv.” he says, very aware of the fact that half of the room have been watching you and Alfie for the last hour. But you’ve already been seen with him, so you see no sense in what he’s saying.

“Nonsense.” you speak, the reply is almost automatic and you don’t break eye contact.

He chuckles, it’s low and you’re sure it would be impossible to hear if you weren’t standing so close. You hear his deep voice as he shakes his head. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“You’re the only one worth talking to in this goddamn party.” you whisper without realising it. You don’t intend on telling the gentlemen that but the sparks in his eyes when you change your mind.

Fancy events like this did not interest you, you wanted something real. It didn’t excite you that the carpets in the venue were brought from Milan or that the fine silk curtains were hand-made, you wanted things to be real, raw and not pretentious like all the posh souls were making it out to be. Alfie saw that, mostly because he felt the same way.

You wanted to run away from this place, to talk with someone about the possibilities of what the night had in stock for you and walk on the pavement with bare feet and listen to their laugh and ask them what they really thought of the place they were put in.

Alfie saw that in your eyes, you were young after all.

While you fiddled with your freshly painted nails and tried to ignore the obnoxious color the maid had chosen for you, you let him size you up. You were dangerous in the most complex ways but he liked that, he worked inside danger anyway.

“Say, luv..” he spoke, the pet name making your eyes flutter as he looked down at your small form. You didn’t look out of place here in the fancy venue but it was clear to him that you felt that way. “Do ya’ dance?”

Alfie didn’t dance, that was easy to tell and you weren’t a big fan of slow dancing either, too much intimacy was packed up in it for you. “Only If I like the gentlemen who asks me.” you spat out, true and honest as he watched you like a hawk.

But before he could even get to say anything, Miriam appeared out of thin air. She had been watching Alfie for the past hour as he made conversation with the one girl Miriam hoped he’d stay away from. Her eyes were glistening with excitement and anger, all packed up in giant orbs as she stared at you with a smile.

Alfie cleared his throat when he realised the lady had come in and needed to be introduced. Your posture clearly straightened while he started to speak, uninterested but the deed had to be done so she would leave.

��This is Miriam.” Alfie muttered, almost like a little kid who didn’t want to do it but he soon realised you hadn’t told him your name. His eyes met yours as you looked at the lady next to him and she spoke up at last.

“And who is this lovely lady?” Miriam spoke, voice a little deeper than you’d expect but it suited her. You smiles and took her hand, shaking it like how businessman shook each others’ hands and Alfie smiled at your tomboyish attitude.

“Y/N.” you spoke softly, subtly looking at Alfie direction when he muttered your name under his breath. It sounded right.

“Oh! What a lovely name!” she exclaimed, making you giggle at her excitement for such a normal part of the conversation. You nodded at his words and thanked her like you’d been taught to do.

“Thank you. That’s very kind.” you spoke, a fake smile plastered on your lips while Alfie watched you under a heavy stare, you were perfectly conversing with the lady but it was obvious you wanted to be your own self.

“You two have been talking for quite a while. You don’t mind if I steal Mr. Solomons for a while, do you, dear?” she spoke, almost testing you but you had been trained by the best to not show any emotion. You nodded and smiled, realising that you were a little further down from the bar.

“Of course not.” your words were forced but the lady wouldn’t notice. You shot Alfie a charming smile before the lady dragged him to meet a couple new investors for the Jewish community. It wasn’t like they needed them, but Miriam thought that it was only natural for him to meet people who’d do the same thing as he was doing in terms of donations.

------

The venue was now filled with music, the lively kind. All the couples were tired from the endless slow dancing with the music they had put on so you had finessed the perfect plan to seduce the man who handled the live musicians and although all you had given him was a precious smile, he had started playing tunes you could easily dance at your request.

Most of the girls from your class were now on the dance floor, dancing the day away in the most proper way possible with more than two dozen young men around. No matter how big the opportunity was for them, most of them looked stiff as they moved to the music. They didn’t quite know how to move their bodies in a way that would make men their slave yet and seeing as that was what you were currently doing, you grabbed one of the girls and began teaching her slowly.

Alfie had been talking to a businessman who owned a few casinos up town. He was new to the world of being a gangster but the man seemed speakable enough for him to endure a fifteen minute conversation before he heard familiar giggles overlapping with the music that was being played.

And there you were.

You were an expert at getting yourself in trouble as far as Alfie could tell and the way you moved to the music was the sole proof of the fact. Your body moved to the rhythm, the kind of sways coming from your hips that would be enough to have any man floored if only you’d ask. Miriam watched as Alfie gulped at the sight, he was in deep trouble.

But one tug at his sleeve and he was back to normal.

He ignored the smile on your lips as your drunken state moved to the upbeat song, you were a little too fragile for any man around that night. Tonight was supposed to be about everyone getting to go home with a man on their arm, the sole purpose was to find the grown girls someone to tie their knot with so that the school could invite younger ones.

But you were sure you’d be the last to go.

Men liked to look at you, there was the innocence of a doll mixed with the deadly sins inside your small frame and that was enchanting but it wasn’t enough to keep them interested for the rest of their lives. You were stubborn and didn’t behave like a proper lady should, or so that was what you’d heard since you were a small girl.

So you found no point in trying to act like one.

An hour passed in what felt like the blink of an eye and you stumbled on your way to the big sofa in the corner of the room. Some of your classmates were already gone with men in their arms to keep them company through the night and you had a look around to see who you could entice.

And to your surprise, the pleasant stranger was still here.

He had been watching you for the last hour with the old lady in his arm. She usually talked about giving back to the community and Alfie was all for that but there was something that kept pulling him to you. He had watched as you eyed every person in the room until your eyes landed on him, a small smile playing at your lips and he realised you weren’t as drunk as he thought you were.

That wasn’t you being drunk, it was you being nothing but trouble.

“May I?” your voice was soft against the air while you tried to get to the whiskey on the table but Alfie was blocking your access. You had walked graciously towards him before that and he was sure you wanted something.

“No fucking way.” he spoke under his breath and your eyebrows shot up at the words. He was amusing after all.

While he blocked your hands from reaching the whiskey bottle, you shot him an innocent look and he felt as though he was playing with something a little bigger than himself.

“Why?” you asked with a dash of threat lying under. You could make this moment very difficult for him but it went both ways.

“You, yeah, are too fuckin’ young to even be here, luv...” he speaks and you watch the way his eyes drink you up. You’re too young for drinking but now young enough to keep his eyes to himself, apparently. “...let alone be dancin’ the way you were.” he finishes his sentence and your amused chuckle fills his ears. It’s not what he expects to hear.

“Liked something you saw?” you ask, daring as you look into his eyes. He chuckles, he’s clearly taken aback.

He shakes his head instead of answering. Most of the people around are gone with their gentlemen and the party will be over soon, you figure you’ll be going to the cold bed you woke up in. He catches the faint sign of disappointment on your face and he’s smart enough to put two and two together.

But you seem far too dangerous for a man like him, he thinks.

Before he can answer your question, Annabelle comes around with a plastered smile and starts speaking in the tone you hate so much.

“Y/N! The party is over, dear. You best be on your way to your room.” she speaks, sizing Alfie up along the way. You huff and stare at the old lady. You didn’t think the party was a grand idea anyway.

“Alright.” you speak, knowing she won’t like it and Alfie enjoys the way a hint of smile plays on your lips while Annabelle turns furious for a second.

“What have I taught you?” she says, composing herself in front of the guest and Alfie watches the whole thing play out.

“Yes, Miss.” you say with a fake smile but you’re far from done. They both hear the words as you mutter them under your breath. “Your wish is my command.”

Alfie can’t help but laugh.

You know Annabelle won’t let this go but she smiles at the guest as a sign of kindness, something she hasn’t shown you in your time around here. Alfie turns to you to see the horror in your eyes and he can tell it’s because of the old grumpy lady who keeps bugging you.

And he decides to be the gentlemen.

You’re about to say goodnight and go to your room but he speaks up first to Annabelle, you don’t protest when his hand grabs your small one and caresses it while speaking.

“Actually, this one right here, yeah, will accompany me for the rest of the evenin’..” he speaks and catches the way your eyes light up but he’s composed while the old lady looks at you first and then looks at Alfie.

She’s sure it’ll be a disaster.

“Of course.” she says, wanting to get rid of you as fast as she can.

You watch her leave and Alfie’s hand engulfs your small one in the process. With stars in your eyes, you return to the kind gentlemen but he’s fast to speak before you can thank him. “We best be on our way, lass.”

And he leaves with you on his arm, unaware of the things the night has in stock for the both of you.

----

Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum

a/n: I know i have been inactive but i have one more week of school before the winter break so i’ll be better, I promise!! and please let me know what you thought or/and if you’d like to be tagged!! <3 Happy december!

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

would you mind doing a little scene maybe of caduceusxreader or maybe calebxreader where their s/o ends up hit with pollen during battle that gets them super high alla knott and the floor fruit style please?

Little turned into a bit more of a scenes instead 😅. A little disclaimer; I do not condone the abuse of substances especially not illegal ones. Listen to your auntie Saph, kids! Stay in school and be responsible! 😘

Content Warning: Use of mind altering substances.

It’s the middle of a fight in the jungle. You’re under attack by a large lizard walking on its hind legs, with some rather useless short arms but huge sharp teeth that have munched on Fjord one too many times leaving the half-orc in a bleeding and moody state without much of a chance to get out and not get hit again.

The battlefield is not in your favour considering this oversized lizard is about to turn your friend into its next meal but you still have a healing potion left and really, this is the time to use it but you can’t really get to Fjord without getting close to the lizard thing and even then you doubt you’d be able to get into arms reach of the man. Well it’s now or never and better than the alternative. You rush forward dodging below the toothy maw of the creature.

“Fjord! Catch!” With that you get as close as you can, tossing the healing potion. Fjord just barely catches it, thanking you but that quickly falls silent.

“Look out!” Caleb shouts as he releases a firebolt to strike the lizard. It does not stop the creature from swiping with its tail sending you flying with a brute force knocking the air out of you. Luckily your landing is softened by a comfy bed of flowers, moss and some mushrooms. You land a cloud of spores and pollen dusting around you and entering your lungs as the first breath you’re able to take. It leaves you coughing and sneezing but you shake it off. This is not the right time for allergies to be kicking in. You got a lizard to kill.

Together you fight off the lizard. Still taking quite some good hits you deliver some as well and in the end manage to kill the thing. Some of you worse for wear you unanimously decided taking a breather is probably a good idea. You find a comfy patch of moss that does not release a dust cloud the moment you touch it and let yourself fall into its soft embrace, eyes closed.

“I’m just going to lie down over here. Let me know when we’re moving again.” An odd sense of nausea kicks in so you turn to your side and just curl up in an attempt to get a little more comfortable on the jungle floor.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Caleb asks looking you over. Physically you're a bit worse for wear but not terribly so. A moment of rest should have you back on your feet. You phase out a bit letting yourself be dragged off in a moment of rest.

Not but five minutes later your moment of peace is disturbed by a warm, really warm but comfortable hand being placed on your arm and shaking you lightly. You curl up a little tighter before rolling on your back and meeting the bright blue eyes of Caleb. You don’t recall them being that bright, maybe more like a muted or pale blue but now they’re vibrant. Odd you hadn’t noticed before. Same goes for his hair, red is more fiery orange and you swear you can pick apart every single strand on his head as well as the light stubble he’s sporting.

"Hey." You smile at the wizard lovingly. You'll never tire of waking up to Caleb no matter of how much you might want to continue sleeping. Caleb's a handsome man but right now he looks absolutely angelic with the bleeding light creating a halo around him.

Maybe it’s just because of the faded green background behind Caleb that throws off the contrast? Besides, you might have fallen asleep in your five minutes of rest, your vision usually goes a bit blurry until things come into focus but that doesn’t really explain why Caleb is so high focus now… Odd but you dismiss it as exhaustion and the vast jungle getting to you. No, you definitely hit your head when that lizard tail swiped you. Maybe you have a concussion. Should ask the clerics to check that out later once they’ve gotten their rest. Now's not the time to bother them.

“Hey. Time to get up. We’re ready to move before nightfall comes around.” Ugh. Even his voice sounds angelic now? Caleb offers you a hand and helps you up from the comforts of your moss-bed. Somewhat reluctant you get up. The nausea gets worse and you put a hand over your mouth suppressing the urge to vomit.

“Are you alright?” Caleb stabilises you as you stumble a little, dizziness not making your nausea any better. Sweet gods those warm hands just make you want to curl up into their warmth forever but you repress the urge well aware Caleb isn’t exactly the fondest of pda and keep it more surface levels with the others around.

“Yeah. Totally fine just a bit ugh but I’ll be fine. Some more sleep will probably do me good.” You see the rest of the Nein is packed up and ready to continue. Weren’t they just unpacking when you closed your eyes five minutes ago? Okay so maybe those five minutes were closer to an hour or so? What kind of exhaustion fuelled time warp did you get stuck in? This exhaustion is really getting to you. You need a vacation; one with Caleb. Maybe with an ocean view? That sounds nice. You're getting side tracked. Time to travel.

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

The journey continues deeper into the jungle towards your destination and your limbs get heavier and heavier. Did Jester paint you some lead shoes and replace yours while you were asleep? Did she do your clothes too? Because your whole body feels so heavy.

You bump into Caleb’s side. A hand finds its way to the small of your back and the warmth returns. You didn’t realise you’re feeling so cold, freezing almost so you allow yourself to lean just a bit more into Caleb’s side to bask in the warmth provided by your flaming hot wizard.

“You don’t happen to be able to make someone do the floaty glide thingy Essek can do, can’t you?” Caleb is confused by your sudden question and the unfiltered sentencing. You usually formulate your words more carefully than this but it seems as if the word ‘gravity’ has escaped your vocabulary. Caleb blames it on exhaustion seeing your somewhat unfocused state and feeling the weight of your body leaning on him for support. You’ve been walking for hours, running for a few and fought a giant lizard of a forgotten era after all. You have every right to be tired and he'll support you in any way he can.

“Ah, I’m afraid not. But, we will be setting down for the night once we reach a clear spot.” Didn’t you catch that conversation? You were there for it providing nods and noises of agreement while keeping an eye out for anything approaching. This is a bit odd for you so Caleb decides to keep an eye on you.

You hear birds chirping around you, their song drowning out Caleb’s words but not voice as he talks to you but the song is just too beautiful, it brings a smile to your face. Looking around you can see them sometimes. Colourful feathers popping against the green and the muted flashes of a sun lowering. If the sun’s going to sleep, you want to go soon too. It’s not really fair if you have to keep walking when it gets to lie down.

The colours and patterns through the leaves are very pretty though and the rays bleeding through are to die for. The world should look like this forever. It’s so beautiful, pulsing with every breath you take. No, you’re breathing with the nature around you. You get a newfound respect for Caduceus and Fjord’s Wildmom. She’s pretty cool if she’s responsible for all this. Is she responsible for all this? She gets your credit anyway.

You’re pulled to a sudden stop, or at least it feels sudden. Caleb is suddenly in front of you pulling your focus towards him and away from the chirping birds and the setting sun and the Wildmom. You’d ask Caleb to leave you alone but his gentle smile alone and warm hands on your shoulders pushing you down to sit on a tree stump call for your undivided attention in turn pulling it away from the gently blowing breeze and kaleidoscope of colours.

“You’re exhausted. Sit down and rest while we set up.” Caleb suggests and you find yourself nodding the words not entirely registering. Warm fingers press against your cheek before they pull away all too soon. The warmth leaves your body as Caleb leaves your side and the freezing cold returns. You wrap your coat tighter around yourself in an effort to preserve the heat but nothing seems to work.

You try to focus on your surroundings to distract from the icy cold, the humid jungle temperatures doing nothing to keep you warm. The crickets provide a beautiful symphony with the rustling leaves, the last of the song birds going to sleep and the awakening of the nocturnal creatures. It helps and you find yourself swaying lightly from side to side with the melody. It brings you a sense of happiness and content as well as a connection to everything around you.

You feel yourself beginning to drift when something warm and soft and a little heavy is draped across your shoulders. The warmth is similar to Caleb but not entirely the same, though you’re met with an intense smell of molasses, old books and whatever remains after a fire has turned to embers. Your eyes fall upon the dark purple material of Caleb’s coat; most of all the geometric patterns of the lining. They are enchanting and you feel like you could get lost in them.

“You’re shivering. Come. We’re all set up.” You once again allow Caleb to guide you back to your feet and pull you along to where the Nein had set up. Sitting down with you Caleb takes out his spellbook and a small crystal bead. You've always loved watching Caleb cast spells, something alluring to the practiced words and patterns. He begins to weave his hands through the air in front of him, the light sparks of magic following his fingertips as he speaks the words, what you didn’t expect to see is the trails left by the motions. You’ve never seen those before. That’s new. They’re very pretty though; a warm orange trail of embers just like him. Enamoured you stare, making no effort to hide or avert your gaze. You catch Caleb's eyes and he offers you a half smile which you dopily return continuing to watch the patterns.

You’re rudely pulled out of your trance by Caduceus offering you a bowl of food. Usually you would have jumped at the promise of food, the firbolg’s cooking is unrivalled but now the nausea comes back and your stomach twists at the smell alone. You turn to the side fighting the urge vomit and as politely as possible and decline the delicious food much to your dismay.

Caleb does accept the food he’s offered as Veth happily accepts your serving as seconds. Caleb sniffs the food expecting it to smell off somehow because of your reaction but it doesn’t. It’s as perfect as ever and you’re not one to refuse food when offered. As he begins eating you excuse yourself finding a spot where you don’t have to look at your friends consuming their food both, because of the strong smell and the look of it. While delicious the thought of the texture sends your brain in overdrive where you get an overwhelming phantom taste which only intensifies the nausea.

Finding a spot still within the dome but far enough to be comfortable you just watch the geometric patterns in the lining of Caleb’s coat. Not only do you focus on the patterns but you’re pretty sure you can count the individual threats of the fabric. The colours and contrast intense pull you in almost pervasively so.

A hand shakes your shoulder turning you to face them. It’s Caleb and he looks rather worried. The expression alone carries over to you. What’s he worried about? It’s not bad is it? Is it because of you? Oh, no maybe it is you… You’re set into a train of emotions and anxiety and when Caleb notices his expression softens but the worry does not leave.

“Hey, hey. I need you to breathe, okay? Just keep breathing.” You follow his instructions taking deep breathes and the anxiety mutes replaced by a hyper fixation on Caleb. Literally, everything around the wizard fades into the distance when he steps into your vision but you manage to force yourself to be aware of your surroundings with a lot of effort.

“Very good. Now, you want to tell me what’s going on?” From over Caleb’s shoulder you see Veth stuff her mouth with the food you refused and that alone is enough to make you gag. Caleb notices and shifts to break your line of sight. Oh no, you can smell it again. You cover your mouth and nose and lean forward letting your forehead fall against his clavicle taking deep breaths of the comfy molasses, old pages and smouldering fire scent.

“I don’t know but one more sniff of food and I’ll vomit so please take mercy on me and save me from the savoury deliciousness until this nausea passes.” Caleb wraps his arms around you, one hand rubbing circles into your back while the other lightly plays with the hairs on the back of your neck to alleviate your suffering. Of course he’s trying to piece together what’s happened because you’re behaviour added up is not entirely like you. Right now his priority is making sure you're comfortable.

He keeps this going as one by one the Nein goes to sleep, Caleb and by default you taking the first watch. You don’t yet feel comfortable removing yourself from Caleb’s arms but do find a more comfortable position for the both of you to spare you the numbness of limbs.

The longer you sit around your mind starts to feel less hazy, the hyper focus lessens and your stomach calls for sustenance, the nausea fading. Luckily Caduceus had saved you some leftovers which you happily nibble on. The spices and herbs providing extra flavours are intense but no longer unwelcome or nauseating. Regardless of what caused this all, you didn’t think Caduceus’ food could taste any better but damn does it taste beyond divine. You’ve rediscovered your appetite and finish the leftovers.

While sitting in Caleb’s embrace, head on his stomach holding the book you’re both reading Caleb’s coat long since returned to him you’re feeling mentally exhausted, but your mind is at ease, as if all stress and pressure of the world around you has faded for just a moment. You’re at peace in the arms of the man you love and surrounded by your friends.

The realisation that despite all the bad you’ve gone through together it’s all been worth it a thousand times over and you wouldn’t change a thing. A yawn escapes as you turn the page, knowing Caleb will have read it several times at this point.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

“You’d think with all the breaks and rest you’ve already gotten today you’d have trouble sleeping again.” Caleb recalls the times where you’ve taken breaks before and spent half of the night up getting rid of the energy just to get a moment of sleep in the more stressful days where sleep does not come easily; days like the past few have been.

“I would have but none of those times did I actually catch a break. I was nauseas for hours, everything felt and looked intense, could only focus on one thing at the time visually even though for some reason I was hyper aware of my senses.” You turn the page again as Caleb pulls you a little closer, about to press a kiss to your shoulder. He stops, retreats and instead brushes his fingers over it.

“Maybe I was just on an exhaustion or anxiety high running on my last bit of energy and now we get a moment to relax and breathe, that’s what gotten me back to earth.” Caleb doesn’t respond and when you look up at him from over your shoulder you see Caleb closely inspecting the fingers he brushed over your shoulder.

“You know, I’m beginning doubt this change of mood was induced by exhaustion.” He runs his fingers together and you see the light dust pulverise. Confused you signal for Caleb to elaborate on his train of thought because you’re still feeling a little slow.

“Remember the tumble you took into the patch of flowers and mushrooms?”

“You mean when I got my ask kicked by an oversized lizard? Yeah, hard to forget.” You grasp at your ribs as if to relief a still lasting ache from the hit of the creature’s tail. You turn around, putting the book down and sit on your knees between Caleb’s legs as things begin to fall into place for the both of you. Your landing... Oh no...

“I don’t think that dust cloud upon impact was just dust or pollen.” You throw your head back and groan. Unbelievable. Through the lasting peace and calm you feel the embarrassment peak through as well as annoyance at the whole situation.

“So you’re telling me I’ve been tripping balls for the past six or so hours?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying.” Caleb states deadpanned before he breaks and laughs at you. You deserve it really. Stubbornness to admit something’s wrong is what got you so far. Should have told someone you weren’t feeling right and it definitely wasn’t exhaustion but no and it was already too late when the ‘beauty of the world’ took hold of your mind.

“Well then, take comfort that it’s not just the spores leave me completely enamoured with you.” You peck Caleb’s nose and poke his stomach to get him to quit laughing before he wakes up the others. You won’t hear the end of this that’s for damn sure so best to keep this incident between the two of you. Let the other’s believe you’re just over-exhausted.

#critical role #critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader

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flooffybits · 3 years

Text

What

A love like yours knows no bounds, but a love like yours should remember that a heart like yours is precious above all.

Warning: character death, blood, cheating

Back || Next

Minji stared at you, the silence stretching as the tension grew thick.

Your breathing had yet to revert back to your normal breathing pattern and she could see just how shaken you were after asking her what Haneul showed you in your dreams.

You hated how you weren’t sure if it was another one of his tricks or if it really was another suppressed memory. But judging by how Minji had reacted to your question, you were beginning to believe that it was the latter.

“Minji…” You call and she slowly withdraws her hand to rest them both at her sides. Shame filling her features before she let out a shaky breath. "I promised to tell you if you asked." She whispers, and you barely even catch it with how low her voice had gotten.

Reaching to finally turn the lamp on, Minji shifts after, just so she's facing you, wanting to look you in the eyes as she answers your questions as truthful as she could. Though how quickly she'll be able to answer would be on how complex your question would be.

"Wendy… she's been another person Haneul strung along with keeping us separated." She started with a sigh, the bitter feeling coming back to her chest when she remembered the first time she'd met the woman, but she quickly shakes it off when she sees your face and remembers the expression you wore when she found you with the other. “We found you a little later compared to now and… you were married to her in that lifetime.”

You felt your heart sink at that and the images of what happened in your dreams kept rewinding in your head. “We didn’t hurt her, I swear.” She whispers, but when she recalls that painful moment, she can’t bring herself to look you in the eyes. “I’m sure he’s told you already, and while it was never my intention… you had an affair with me.” She quietly admits and you had to pause at the new information.

“Wendy found out about it and… she was upset, and she left your house but-”

“She got into a car crash...”

Minji nodded her head regretfully as you finished her sentence for her and you just felt sick to your stomach at this point.

"We tried to help her but… she didn't make it through the surgery, and right after that, Haneul brought us into another lifetime and wiped your memories again." She sighed out. "He didn't give you the chance to grieve. He didn't let you properly say goodbye and we just…" You could see just how difficult it was for her to continue, yet she pushed through, believing that you deserved to know the entire truth.

"Show me."

Minji blinks in surprise at your words, but when she remembers that your memories were back, she was quick to understand what it was you wanted her to do.

"You can still do it?" She asks softly before you nod your head, though the shaky exhale you let out after nodding informs her that you're not too enthusiastic about this decision either. “Y/n, if you don’t want to-”

“I just…” You cut her off with a pained look crossing your features. “I just want to know. I have to know. In another life, someone died because of me.” You try to hide the crack in your voice, but the way Minji’s expression shifts shows that you failed to do so.

She knows how much you care, even with the years apart. You cared too much for those around you, so finding out that you were the cause of your own wife’s death, even if it were in a different life, it was sure to affect you more than one would think.

“I understand.” Minji assures you before she gestures for you to lay down, and you do. Laying on your side so that you’re facing the older woman, she soon follows suit, leaving a little bit of space between you before bringing one hand up for you to take. And with one more inhale, you carefully take her hand before letting your eyes close, Minji looking at you for a few more seconds before she follows suit.

Minji brings you further into her memories and you watch as the scenery around you shifts in the blink of an eye.There are places that you deem familiar, yet there are those that are too blurry for your mind to fully comprehend.

But before you can question her about any of these places, it all comes to a halt and you find yourself standing in front of a house, walls painted a light blue and the lawn clean with the grass trimmed and flowers just watered maybe at least ten or so minutes ago.

“This is where you lived when I found you.” Minji spoke, her hand releasing yours as she walked closer to the fences. “It’s a beautiful home, and I honestly should have known by then that you weren’t the only one residing in it.” She mutters, a sort of grimace on her expression, but she quickly brushes it off before gesturing you to the house.

You quietly walk closer to the entrance, and instantly, the door opens for you, allowing you access into the house with Minji following after you.

The inside was as simple as it was outside, though having a few more decorations. There were pictures hanging on the walls and some resting right on the shelf above the fireplace. A coffee table sat in between that and a long couch, then a television was set on to the right, a few feet away from the archway that led to the dining room and kitchen.

“Y/n, come on, I’m going to be late!” A familiar voice meets your ears and you see as Minji’s shoulders tense for a split second before she’s forcing a calm look to show you that everything was alright.

There’s giggling that comes after, and you see another version of you holding the short haired blonde in your arms as laughter spilled from both of your lips when you refuse to let go of her.

“It’s still early, come on, do you really have to go so soon?” You ask with a small pout that makes your wife coo before she’s pressing the palms of her hands against your cheeks, a kiss being pressed to your forehead and drawing a sigh from your lips at the comfort that washes over you.

“How are you seeing this? You weren’t around for it.” You can’t help but ask, eyes straying from the couple to the woman standing next to you, but her eyes don’t look away, almost reminding herself of what she had once ruined.

“Because these are your memories.” She replies without looking. “The front may be mine, but at this moment, these are your own memories, connecting with what I have.” She explains softly, a sting to her heart in seeing you completely enamored by another woman who wasn’t her.

But it’s not your fault, she reminds herself.

You watch when Seungwan leaves the house and you don’t take too long to leave for your own job. The moment the door closes, you notice the shift outside, and you soon find yourself in Minji’s presence this time, a look of conflict in your eyes when the two of you stand not too far away from the Han River.

The older woman’s hair was dyed a vibrant red, and it suited her, you think. The brightness of the color complimented the bright expression she wore on her face as she gazed up at you from her crouching figure, searching for a flower before she finally found the one she was looking for.

“You know, red suits you.” You had said and the other looked a bit surprised, though her expression never falters as she giggles with a soft hue coating her cheeks before she’s holding the flower up to your face. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve been told, but white suits you a lot.”

And there comes the conflict again, because yes, you have been told that white suits you. Everyday, your wife would offhandedly comment on it whenever she saw you with either a white shirt, pants, or anything, really.

Innocence and purity.

But your thoughts were neither of those two because here you were, spending time with another woman whilst your wife did her best for the life you were supposed to live together.

You watch as your past self plucks the flower from Minji’s hands before gently tucking it behind the older girl’s ear, the white contrasting with her red hair, yet she looks ethereal either way.

“I don’t think anything could compare to your beauty.”

Your breath hitches while you watch yourself pull Minji closer, her front flush against your own before you had both leaned in. You only force yourself to look away when your environment begins to shift again and you’re once more inside the house.

“Tell me the truth.” Seungwan’s broken voice feels like a sharp blade running through your heart and you’re forced to watch whilst Minji could only look away in shame after Seungwan had arrived right when she was supposed to leave. “Tell me, Y/n.”

“I…” Your fists clench at your sides before your shoulders fall, slumped in defeat as you slowly shake your head. “I’m so sorry.” You whisper as the tears your wife had tried to keep at bay finally trailed down her cheeks as she took a step back.

“I don’t think sorry is going to be enough to fix something like this.” She chokes out, gesturing to you and Minji, and you finally lift your head when she races out the door, keys in hand. “Wendy, wait!” But as you reached the door, she was already starting her car and, soon, driving away from the home you had both built.

The home you carelessly destroyed.

Never mind the rain that pelted against your vulnerable form. You watched as the car slowly disappeared into the distance with tears of your own mixing with the water droplets that hit your skin while Minji tried to think of what she could possibly do to help you.

While you watch, you notice Yubin lurking somewhere in the distance, covered by the darkness with a small frown on her face. However, her gaze snaps to the direction Seungwan had gone off to when a bird perches itself on her shoulder, there’s worry on her features and it doesn’t take you long before you find yourself standing in front of the wrecked car, exactly like Haneul had shown you.

“She died before they could get her to the hospital.” Minji finally speaks again, watching as your figure stood watching as the flames consumed the car, the sounds of sirens echoing in the air whilst people began to crowd around, trying to see what had happened.

And among those people, you can see all of the girls littered around, blending with the crowd with apologetic and sorrowful looks on their faces when you tried to help your wife out of the damaged car, only to be pulled away so that the paramedics could get her into the ambulance when they got the stretcher ready.

“We wanted to help, but there wasn’t anything we could have done…” She added regretfully and before you had a chance to see further, Haneul came out of nowhere, placing a hand over your eyes.

And before the girls could spring into action, he waved his free hand and everything faded to black.

When you opened your eyes again, the sun was already peeking into the horizon and Minji was looking at you, the same sorrowful look in her eyes mixed with guilt and shame of what she had done, and you can’t help subconsciously squeezing her hand.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers and you slowly shake your head, a frown on your lips as you bring her hand to them just enough so they barely brush against her knuckles. “No matter how much I want to fix it, I know I was part of why that happened.” She uttered out. “Your grief may have been short lived but I hated how he didn’t let you feel any of it. And now that you know…”

She doesn’t need you telling her, because she can feel it throughout the entire trip through her memories. The air had shifted when it all came back to you and she knew it was only then when the pain actually came crashing down on you, slapping you on the face to make you see just what it was that you had gone through.

As they say, no matter how much you delay the pain, it will only hurt worse once it comes back to you.

“You didn’t know I was married…” You whisper and she slowly shakes her head. “I only found out when I saw you together at the grocery. Sua spotted you and that’s when I realized you were seeing me behind her back.” She explains, her voice laced with the pain and burden she’d been carrying.

“Why you didn’t tell me, I don’t know. But that night… I was supposed to tell you that I didn’t want to keep hurting her behind her back, even if she didn’t know anything.” She explained quietly. “That was when she caught me at your home. A friend of hers had caught us, together. And seeing us had confirmed her claims.”

“But you wanted to stop it from happening.” You try to reason, yet she shakes her head one more time. “As much as I love you, I could never do that to another person. I had you taken away from me once, and I know how much it hurts. I didn’t want anyone else experiencing the same pain I did, so I tried to avoid it.” She sighed out, letting her gaze move to the ceiling. “I thought to myself, in another life, I have a chance. But this one, I have to let you go even if it hurts.”

And it’s there that you understand just how deeply Minji has loved you despite your time apart.

Because no one would willingly sacrifice their hearts for the sake of someone else. And no matter how many chances she had, she’s not once given up or passed up the opportunity to reach you.

You had her heart from the beginning, and she wasn’t willing to take it back.

“Try again.” Bora’s gentle instruction meets your ears and you let out a huff before shutting your eyes for a brief moment, only to open them again and then stare at the pocket watch sitting in front of you.

Right after lunch, the older women whisked you away and brought you behind the house just so you were in a less noisy environment to help you focus more. But you didn’t understand why you were trying to recall the memories of an inanimate object instead of a living being instead.

“Judging by your behavior these few days, you don’t remember everything.” The older girl stated and you flinched when the memory of Minji that morning replayed in your head. “So, to recall, while you can look into people’s thoughts and memories, you can also recall how things come to be.” She gestures to the watch.

“That, for example. You can recall how it was made or how it came to your possession, when and where I got it for you, so on. In one of your older notes, you’re capable of doing more, but you just lack the practice. So now, we’re starting from scratch.”

Out of nowhere, a cloth wrapped around your head, covering your eyes and stealing your sight before Bora gave your shoulder a pat. “Best way to help you enhance your senses is by taking one away.” She states before her voice slowly becomes farther to your left.

“I don’t see how this-”

“Shush, just focus on what you want to do.” She tells you and you grunt. “I want to go back inside.” You say with a huff and she rolls her eyes before the end of the cloth flicks your ear. “Ow!”

“Focus!”

You groan but do as told, anyway, focusing your energy on the pocket watch after blindly searching for it in front of you, letting your hand wrap around the cool item and letting the image of it form in your head.

While you’re busy with the watch, Bora watches you from the side, arms crossed with a thoughtful look on her face when Minji walks out of the building to join the two of you, water bottles in hand to make sure you don’t overwork yourself.

“How is she doing?” The older of the pair asked and Bora let out a sigh. “She’s agitated, that’s for sure.” She nodded in your direction as you kept fiddling with the watch in your hands, but with how minimal your movements have been compared to earlier, it was clear to them that at least something was working.

Minji pursed her lips before nodding slowly. “Do you think I can help with that?” She asked slowly and Bora turned her gaze away from you to look at her friend properly. “Are you sure about that?” She questioned and Minji finds it ironic how she had asked you something similar earlier that day.

“If it’s going to help, then I don’t see why not.” She answers, trying to appear nonchalant, but Bora sees right through her. “Unless you’ve had a change of heart, what’s the reason you’re suddenly willing to use your powers on her?”

Minji huffs before crossing her arms. “I just want to help her.” She mutters, but Bora knows her well enough to know that she wasn’t telling the whole truth. “Jiu, whatever is going on between you guys, I don’t want you doing something stupid that could end up hurting both of you.” Bora stated before she looked back at you, watching as you stayed still where you sat.

Your shoulders were tense, but it’s not exactly long when your thoughts come spilling out and Bora can see her past self going through stores and eventually picking the watch up.

A silent smile creeps up her face as she nodded her head before the memory shifted to when you saw the watch smash against the wall in your dreams up until she had fixed it for you.

Once that stopped, Bora allowed the cloth to fall from your eyes and drape loosely around your shoulders, giving you back your eyesight that it causes you to blink at the sudden brightness that hit you.

“Well, you were able to do what you were aiming for.” Bora comments when she walks over, her hands folded behind her back, noting the slight exhaustion on your face when she walked closer. “But we have to keep your powers under control. They’re spilling over again and as helpful as it is sometimes, you know that it’s just as dangerous.” She explains while you nod your head and Minji kept quiet as she listened to the conversation instead, opting to not say anything for now since her own thoughts have yet to calm down after that morning.

Bora tries to come up with a way that could possibly help you, however the idea that pops up in her head causes her brows to furrow before she’s glancing at her friend, almost a little reluctant. “The way you’re looking at me is making me worried. What is it?”

Minji didn’t need her to say anything to know, and you look up at the pair. “I mean, the best way for your thoughts to run rampant is when you’re panicking… right?” Minji’s eyes widen at the suggestion, staring at her best friend as though she’d grown a second head. “You’re not asking me to do what I think you’re doing.”

“You said you were willing to do anything that will help!”

“But that’s too much!”

You reach for one of the bottles and take a quick sip before rolling your shoulders. “If you’re suggesting for unnie to use her abilities on me, then I don’t mind.” You cut in on their conversation, causing both their heads to snap in your direction. “If that’s what’s going to help, then it should be okay.”

“But I don’t want you to get hurt.” Minji argues, fists clenched at her sides while you shoot her a small smile. “I know you won’t do anything to intentionally hurt me.”

Your words cause her to go quiet and Bora takes that as a sign to keep going. “In the event that things go south, you can calm her down and reverse everything. I’ll be here to keep a hold of her, so we’ll be okay.”

“Fine.” She breathes out, opening and closing her hands before she lets them rest on her sides. “Just, if this turns out badly, I’m not doing it again.” She tries to sound firm, but it’s clear that she’s afraid. After what happened with Haneul, she doesn’t know what she would do if she were the cause of your distress again.

Bora gestures for you to sit against the wall before the cloth is back over your eyes. And without another word, chains wrap around you to prevent you from moving too much and potentially hurt yourself or anyone near you whilst Minji takes a cautious step closer.

She’s aware of Bora’s eyes on her as she moves closer. As soon as she’s kneeling next to you, Minji slowly reaches to rest her hands against your jaw, carefully cradling your face as she leaned closer, pressing her lips lightly against your temple before moving them near your ear, enough for you to feel her breath against your skin.

“I trust you.” You whispered when you could still feel her reluctance and Minji let out a breath before nodding her head. “I’ll be right here.” She whispers before she finally closes her eyes, whispering a single word before she feels your body grow rigid under her touch.

There’s a spike in your memories and thoughts. All the worries and fears come creeping up and your shallow breathing had alerted Minji and Bora that you were now in the state they were aiming for.

Minji doesn’t move away from your side, wanting to snap you out of it as soon as it becomes too much, and she was quick to do so at the first whimper that came from your lips. Bora even ran over, letting the chains fall to the ground while Minji ripped the cloth from your face.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe.” Bora instructed, rubbing your back as Minji pulled you into her arms. “You’re okay, it’s okay. We’re stopping.” She whispered while running her fingers through your hair.

But despite the inner panic you had just experienced, you were more than willing to push through. “Again... I want to try again.” You panted while shaking your head. “But Y/n-”

“It’s okay.” You argue. “I can keep going.”

The pair exchange looks before they’re reluctantly agreeing, putting you back in the same state. It’s a cycle for the next few hours, and they can see that it’s taking its toll on you. By the time the sun starts setting, the rest of the girls have come to check on your progress, only to see the weary looks on the two eldest members of your group.

“Is this working?” Yoohyeon quietly questioned and Bora grunted while wiping the sweat off her forehead. “She’s trying, and we’re getting there. There’s just too many suppressed memories - emotions, that she’s facing.” She explains when Siyeon carefully grabs her arm to balance her.

“But you’ve been at it for hours. This is too much for all three of you.” Handong stated with a frown. “Unnie, I think you need to take a break.” Yubin tells them when she approaches your hunched over figure.

Gahyeon lightly squeezes Minji’s shoulder before her own frown deepened at the sight of blood trickling down your nose, an indication that you were overusing your powers and that you were pushing yourself far too much than you were supposed to.

Aside from that, they could all feel the frustration and exhaustion you were currently dealing with. But what makes them all worry even more is the image of the burning car that your memories bring to all of them.

“I think that’s enough for today.”

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unsaidholland · 4 years

Text

lonely heart | t. holland

the first installment of my calm series!!! i really hope y’all like it and are excited about this series(?) as i am!!

warnings: really sad.

the first time you saw colour was when tom’s hand had brushed against yours while you both reached for the same bottle of beer. harrison had hosted a party that had gotten out of hand, and because you were a friend of someone who was invited, you ended up at the party. as soon as you felt the light brush of his touch, everything had changed. your nails were painted what you learned was lilac, but only because the name of the polish was ‘luscious lilac.’ you looked down to see the colour of your skin. it was beautiful. the way it looked in the dim lighting of the room, the way it looked contrasted against the black skirt and distressed band-tee, it was truly something you never expected, but something you adored.

then you looked at tom. you noticed how his fluffy curls were what you’d come to learn was a medium brown, similar to the colour of milk chocolate. his slightly tanned white skin seemed to glow with excitement, the excitement of finally seeing what his parents and some of his friends saw. neither of you knew what to expect when you thought about seeing colours for the first time, but somehow it was everything you wanted.

you looked at each other, studying each other’s faces and clothes, studying the colours of everything around you. he grabbed your hands, seeing that your nails were painted. he admired the way it looked against your skin tone, and it was then when tom decided that lilac was his favourite colour.

“it’s lilac,” you said, seeing the confusion on his face as he struggled to figure out what colours he was seeing. “the name on the nail polish bottle was ‘luscious lilac.’ i didn’t know what it meant at the time, but seeing it now changes everything.” he stood there for a moment, looking at your lilac nails. despite how loud the room was, you swore you heard him whisper, ‘lilac,’ under his breath.

“i’m tom,” he said, smiling at you. you smiled back at him. “do you wanna go sit on the roof and get to know each other? i have a feeling it isn’t gonna calm down anytime soon.” you nodded. he took your hand, leading you up the stairs to his room, where he opened a window that the both of you climbed out of to sit on the roof. he brought a blanket out with him, placing it down for the two of you to sit under. you’d come to learn that the blanket was blue, a navy blue on one side, and a baby blue on the other.

the two of you stayed up all night getting to know each other. as the sun rose, the two of you sat together, the blue blanket draped around the both of you, his arm around your waist, and your head resting on his shoulder. you both watched as the colours of the midnight sky became warmer, and soon enough, the sun had risen, ridding the sky of the twilight.

you spent that week together, learning more about each other, and slowly falling in love with each other. you always thought soulmates were stupid, always wondering how two random people were going to fall in love just because the universe told them to, but you had realized how perfect everything felt very quickly. you thanked the universe for pairing you with tom.

•••

it was three weeks after the two of you met when tom said he had to leave for work. he was going on press, meaning he would be gone for a few months, constantly flying from city to city, or from country to country. he wanted to take you, but you told him it would be okay. ‘i’ll survive,’ you said, and he made you promise that you would be okay.

eventually, you and tom got used to his frequent travelling. his work ethic was something you had admired. even though the two of you had only been together for a year and a half, his inconsistent filming schedules had become second nature to you. you always kept the time of the city he was in on your phone so you could call him when he wasn’t filming or busy. he always made sure to say ‘goodnight’ and ‘good morning’ when it applied to you, and you did the same for him. some timezones were easier than others, but it was never easy.

being able to see how hard he was working was always a benefit. that, and being able to say that the mcu spiderman was your soulmate, but nothing would stop you from feeling so lonely. being apart from him for months and months on end while the two of you were living separate lives was hard, both of you were well aware, but the universe paired you together. the universe had destined for you two to be together, and neither of you were planning on going against the universe.

tom was in the us filming for a new movie that he had a lead role in. whether there was a one hour time difference or a twelve hour time difference, nothing could stop him from missing you endlessly. it was as if the colours seemed more vibrant when you were around, and when the two of you were apart, then the world seemed a little more dull to him. he went about his days wondering how you were doing. by the time he was on his lunch break, you were having dinner. by the time he woke up, you had finished lunch. the seven hour time difference would be the thing that broke him, but it wouldn’t break the two of you up.

both of you had gotten used to being alone in bed at nights, waking up alone in the mornings. tom’s side of the bed had always been untouched while he was gone. where you would have been if you were with tom in bed was also untouched. when you would fly out to see him, things would feel right again. maybe that was just what came with being around your soulmate after being away from each other for months, but whatever it was just made you long for your next break from work. tom wanted nothing but for you to just fly out more often. if it was up to him, he’d want you to be with him all the time, but your work schedule was just too busy at times for you to stay with him all the time.

sometimes the both of you wished that you had gotten a soulmate who’s lifestyle aligned with your own. sometimes both of you wanted to defy the universe and find someone else, but you both knew that nothing would be the same. you were destined to be together, how could you go against the universe’s plan?

tom woke up abruptly. it was the middle of the night for him, but he knew you would be awake. he hadn’t slept properly in days. he had been filming for a week straight with very few breaks. from six am to eleven pm, he would be on set. sometimes he wouldn’t be filming, but he would be rehearsing his lines, working out, or what have you. at night he was so exhausted, wanting nothing more than to lay down in his bed and pass out, but he was never fully able to. he missed home, he missed you, he missed his family. harry being there with him always helped, but it never satisfied his need for you.

he knew you were feeling just as lonely as he was. he knew that both your hearts were hurting from the distance. you were more than a thousand miles away, and he had so many commitments, but he was ready to drop everything and hop on a plane just for you.

tom would never be able to find anyone like you, and it wasn’t because he knew he didn’t have two soulmates, but it was as if you were made just for him. knowing that you were his soulmate was an easy explanation, but he’s heard of stories where the two soulmates hated each other and never had a happy ending. he’s heard of stories where only one person was able to see colour while the other one didn’t. he’s heard of stories where they didn’t work out, and that was enough to justify his love for you. ‘that’s what it was,’ he thought as he laid in bed that night, the covers pulled up under his arms, blankets against his bare torso, ‘i’m so in love with y/n.’ it seemed like a stupid realization to him. you two had been together for almost two years, of course he would be in love with you, but he didn’t know he could fall that hard.

•••

you hadn’t gone to work that day. something about the way the seasons changed and the weather got colder made you feel more lonely. you wanted nothing more than to just be with tom, a blanket around the two of you keeping you warm, and some tv show playing on the tv that neither of you were paying attention to. you wanted nothing more than to do nothing with him, than to just physically be with him.

that day was spent mostly in bed. you watched a bunch of youtube videos, but most of them was just to fill the empty sound of the apartment. calling in to work sick was nothing new to you, but calling in to work sick because your heart hurt from being so alone was something relatively new. you were so sad, so alone.

loneliness was nothing new to either of you, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. there was something about the way he would stay away for so long that made you feel like you were losing whatever kept you alive. you felt as if the longer he was gone, the less energy you had. maybe you just missed him too much, or maybe the universe just wanted the both of you to hurt.

you thought about the day you said goodbye at the airport. it was always him walking away first, but that time, you had left first. you thought about how he watched you leave before he could even go through security. that was two months ago. now the flames seemed to pick up. your relationship was clearly on fire, but you two were soulmates who were madly in love, why would you leave each other?

the longer and harder you thought, you only wished that you could start another life with him. maybe run away from all your responsibilities to a new country under an alias. you’d live the simple life, a house in a small village. maybe you would open a shop with tom, sell food or small knick knacks. your hearts would finally stop feeling lonely, but you knew that he would miss acting.

maybe there was no other reason to stay. maybe you both would always be left with a lonely heart.

anything and everything taglist: @hollanderfangirl @hxrryhxlland @ohmy-moonlightx @musicalkeys @notsosmexy @writertoo18 @icyhollands

tom holland taglist: @hollandsrecs @chris_evanslover

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x soulmate!reader

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cialbi · 4 years

Text

Boy With Hope: Lavender - Prologue

Summary: As you closed your eyes for the last time, the smell of lavender wafted through your nose and a boy with purple wings appeared from above you.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Fantasy

Pairings: Angel Hoseok x Reader

Warnings: Language, Suicide Attempt, Depression, Alcoholism

Word Count: 2357

A/N: This is going to be part of a series called “Boy’s With Series.” Hoseok’s story is going to be the first part out of seven. I don’t know what order I’ll do the other boys in, but I already have their themes and such chosen out. So enjoy the prologue!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

‘I’d finally gotten there.’

The cool night air was a whisper in your ears as you made your way down the long, open hallway of your apartment complex. Wine bottle opened in hand and a plastic bag around your wrist, the sound of your footsteps was an echoed trail that stretched out behind you like a forgotten cry. Outside it was all rich colors of pinks, blues and reds of the distant city, with long shadows cutting across the ground in shapes of buildings. Fireflies glowed amongst the sky and from somewhere a waking crow called

‘I was tired.’

You wobbled with imbalance and your face was flushed scarlet amidst the effects of alcohol. You looked shabby; clothes stained with drink and hair an unruly mess, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care because your fervor had abandoned you and your will to create had spiraled down the drain like a flushed toilet.

You didn’t care because you’d pushed away everyone who had ever loved you, even though all they had wanted was to help. You didn’t care because life would always be unfair, and you didn’t care because today you had gotten yourself fired.

Unimpressive and short-lived, your job had ended in an unfortunate argument with your boss over your consistent tardiness. Tardiness that was due to the oversleeping and headaches which naturally came with a massive hangover. It wasn’t a great job and didn’t pay very well, but it was the only job you had had and now you had none.

‘Defeated.’

So you had done what you do best and found comfort in a dingy bar somewhere in the heart of the city. Since early evening you had drowned yourself in booze until eventually, the bartender had cut you off. You had slammed down your empty glass in a fit of rage and demanded more, but with a look of pity, he had denied you. You had tried to reason with him, even went so far as to beg, but he had shot you down with a strict brow and threatened to call the police if you didn’t cooperate.

Thus, in a slew of curses and resistance you had gracelessly made your exit and hit up the liquor store on your way home.

‘Hopeless.’

You reached your apartment door and fished for your keys buried deep in the pockets of your tattered jeans. The pink heart nose of a horse-shaped fob greeted you with round black eyes that stared flatly as if judging your life choices. You sighed heavily. Fiddling and fumbling, they fell to the ground with a soft, jingling ‘clink.’ The noise reverberated through the empty hallway, bouncing off the walls and right back into your ears.

You groaned. “Fuck.”

Bending down to pick them up, you stumbled; jelly-like legs practically begged to give as you scooped the keys up in your hands. You rested your arm against the metal door of your apartment and gathered your bearings before standing upright.

Your stomach churned with sickness.

You couldn’t recall how much you had drank but you knew it must have been a lot to make you so irrevocably drunk. Since your alcohol tolerance was troublingly high, it took a substantial amount to resort you to this embarrassing, spaced-out state of mind.

Perhaps four bottles of wine? And some vodka. Definitely vodka. The taste of the chemically liquid still lingered on your tongue.

What had started out as harmless college partying, turned into something far more dark, and far more dangerous.

Binge drinking.

Drinking during the day and drinking throughout the night, it was your way to cope with the demons deep inside your bleeding heart.

Days went by in a haze of crocked stupor and the many voices that told you you weren’t enough got lost in a fuzzy lull. But life had just gotten lonelier and lonelier and finally you just couldn’t cope with it anymore.

‘I’d gotten to this place, because I didn’t want to feel anymore.’

Finally getting the keys in the door, it took you a second to turn the handle. The lock had always been finicky and would stick to the entry frame every now and then, so you had to bump your hip against the hard metal in order to nudge it open. You cursed under your breath. The door gave a piercing wail as you pushed on it and you took a moment to lean your body upon it’s chilly surface. Your skin burned like a sizzling egg as the cold contrasted with your fiery flesh.

With bleary eyes, you glanced at your surroundings. It was dark inside, but the light that poured in from the hallway illuminated your path amongst the shadows and soaked your room in a vibrant yellow. Your tiny apartment was an absolute shit-show.

Garbage littered nearly every inch of your floor and empty bottles were strewn around like a tornado had hit. Sketchbooks and clothes were piled up in heaps and papers were crumpled into little balls that overflowed your wicker-woven trash bin. The stench of rotting food was prominent in your nose as you took a deep whiff of air.

‘Because I didn’t care anymore.’

From across the room you could see your intoxicated visage reflected in the mirror hanging next to your vanity, lips chapped and stained deep crimson. You winced.

‘About my looks. About my weight. About what others thought of me.’

As you pushed yourself away from the door, it instantly swung shut from behind and submerged you back into obscurity.

‘It all passed through me just like water passed through a river.’

Blinking through the darkness, you moved through your apartment, feet stumbling over liquor bottle after trash bag as you made your way over to your bed; sheets dirty and utterly soiled. The white cotton sunk around your legs as you sat down, leaving your feet to dangle over the edge. You knew you were at your limit as a woozy flood of lethargy washed over you in waves. Wine bottle still in hand, you unhooked the wirey plastic bag from around your wrist and let it reside still scrunched around your fingers on top of your satin, pink comforter.

‘Nothing pleasured me anymore.’

You stared blankly into the chaotic mess before you, wondering how you had ever let it get this bad.

‘Art.’

Running a hand through your tangled hair, you eyed the drawings that hung on your wall; a reminder of the days before the flame of your passion had been snuffed.

‘Fashion.’

You kicked off your pants and threw them somewhere amongst your belongings, replacing them with worn out, frumpy sweatpants that had been balled up next to your pillow. The rumpled load of accumulated clothes had remained unwashed for weeks and began to stink of body odor and mildew.

‘Friends.’

Happy polaroids clipped to photo wires showed smiling faces of friends and family and your heart tightened as you remembered only the sheer disappointment you had brought to them.

‘I’d lost interest in them all.’

You rested the bottle against your pillow and took a breath.

Everyday was a chore. Exhausted and abused, your body could barely make it out of bed, let alone wash your face or shower. You knew you stunk by the way people avoided you, but you remained indifferent.

Their opinions were irrelevant now.

‘Basic day to day functions were beyond me.’

Turning to look at the plastic bag still enlaced around your hand, you rummaged through it and pulled out a little orange pill bottle labeled with your name on the side. After your departure from the liquor store, you had made a pit stop to the pharmacy, picking up the anxiety meds your quack of a doctor had prescribed you.

Klonopin to be exact.

You held up the bottle against the moonlight and you could see your fucked-up face reflected amidst the glow of the pearly, apricot plastic. With shaking hands you clumsily unscrewed the cap with a soft ‘click’ of the child lock releasing and poured it’s entire contents into your palm.

‘Nothing seemed to matter anymore.’

Squinting your eyes to focus your vision, you stared down at the little pink cylinders with a vacant expression.

So this was it.

This was the choice you had finally decided to make. After years of pain and self-hatred, years of slowly letting yourself become consumed by the dark, it was finally going to end and all you had to do was swallow. You felt a wetness on your cheeks.

Oh.

You’d started to cry.

You hadn’t noticed.

‘Because now…’

Without a second thought, you shoved the pills into your mouth, catching the ones that fell and made sure that they made their way inside. They tasted like burnt rubber against your tastebuds, the shiny plastic coating slid with ease over your tongue and for the slightest moment you hesitated.

‘...it would all…’

You grabbed the bottle of wine from its resting place against your pillow, the liquid swished around the circular glass chamber as it moved. The scent of fermented grape stung your nose as you held it close to your face and your lip quivered in grief. Bringing the tip to your mouth you closed your eyes, and devoured half of it in hungry gulps. It burned. The pills snaked their way down your throat and you swore you heard them plummet into the depths of your stomach.

‘...just stop.’

A single warm drop of wine burst on your shoulder, staining the sleeve of your white baggy shirt with a red that resembled blood. You felt your head go fuzzy, your addict brain absorbing the alcohol like a sponge and suddenly the room began to swoon. Rubbing your mouth with the back of your hand, the blaring of car horns from outside began to dull and a high pitched ring vibrated from within your head.

Slowly, you fixed your gaze upon the open window beside you, the curtains swayed like ghosts at midnight.

‘I’d become a walking corpse…’

No longer able to sit upright, you laid back on your elbows before sinking into your mattress with your stomach turned towards the ceiling. It felt nice, assuring even. You watched with sleepy eyes as the fan turned gently from above you, its mellow gust soft against your skin. The clock on your nightstand flashed neon green; 1:00am.

‘...and today, I couldn’t walk anymore’.

As your eyesight clouded and your mind began to slip, a little orb of twinkling purple light sailed by.

What’s that? You blinked.

Perhaps your eyes were playing tricks on you--which would make sense, because by now you were completely inebriated. Your mind searched for a logical thought, a rational life raft before wanting to drown in the impractical. A firefly maybe, though a purple firefly? That couldn’t be it.

Maybe it was an angel.

You bit back a laugh.

Whether it was from the pills or the booze, you couldn’t tell, but more and more began to fill your room and floated around your apartment, a heavenly oasis of purple. It was somehow...peaceful.

You felt at ease.

Like nothing could possibly hurt you anymore.

The life in your eyes began to dissipate as your hand slipped off your bed, drooping cold, numb and listless over the side. The wine bottle dropped from your grasp and landed with a deafening ‘crash’ of glass shattering atop wood. Pools of red liquid soaked your floor and the foul stench of alcohol mixed with the night time air.

‘I was done.’

Then, the slight smell of lavender wafted through your nose.

“Wait.” You heard someone say.

Startled, you gasped. You wanted to shift your head and find the voice, but the weight of your body--sunk deep in your sheets--wouldn’t allow it.

“Don’t give up yet.” It called again. “There’s so much to live for.”

Was there really? You wanted to cry out, but your throat felt thick--too dry to speak.

Suddenly, you saw yourself wading in a body of vast, open water. It lapped at your waist as if consoling you with its cool touch. Bushels of lavender were growing from beneath and small purple petals fell comparable to summer rain. A sense of calm rushed through you like a surge of energy and the feelings of pain and sorrow dispersed in the pleasant breeze.

“Don’t worry. I’m here.”

You turned around, searching, as you felt your pulse slow. You could hear the weakening thumps of your heart like a drum in your ears and as quickly as it had come the image dissolved and you were back, staring at the ceiling of your bedroom.

The spheres of light stilled, clustering above your bed like magic. The sort of magic that made you want to stare at them until you could figure out why they delighted you so. One, lone light drifted low enough to kiss your cheek and, despite the numbness, it sent a spark through your skin.

A little sparkle returned to your dwindling eyes.

Through hooded vision, you could make out a pair of hands, fluxed through the ceiling as if they were made of thin air, and reaching out towards you with amenity.

“I’m here now.”

Your eyes widened at the impossible sight.

‘That was until…’

A striking boy with hair the color of midday sunshine descended through the wall, his orange locks picked up the purple lights and lent him a brilliant halo. He smiled wide, levitating soundlessly from above your dying physique.

“It’s so cold...” You mumbled, voice raspy.

His face fell in sympathy. “I know.”

“Is it almost over?”

“Yes. I promise.”

“That’s good...”

Your voice was barely a whisper.

Lids heavy, you felt your eyes close and your mind drifted off into what you thought would be an endless sleep.

A hot white beacon shot through the room as the boy tenderly placed his forehead atop yours. His eyelashes fluttered like butterflies against your cheeks and he whispered words of pure love as shining, lavender wings engulfed you.

‘...you came into my life.’

Next⤏

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tskshmk · 4 years

Text

Visions of the Heart || Blind!Tsukishima AU [Fanfiction] (Female!reader)

Synopsis: Everyone knows the fives senses: hearing, touch, smell, taste, and sight. The ability to see is not a privilege that Tsukishima gets to experience, but there is one thing that makes up for his visual impairment — you. Along the way, he might even find a sixth sense.

Chapter Index

Chapter 1: Best Friends

Tsukishima has dealt with seeing darkness his whole life. In other words, he was born without the ability to see. He has never seen his mother's face, or his father's, or even his older brother's face. He knows the smell of his house and the feel of his bed. He knows the clicking sound of a keyboard and the taste of the strawberry shortcake from his favorite local café. He knew everything about anything he could sense without his sight. Y/n, his best friend, was one of those things; He would never admit to it, but Tsukishima could name everything about her–from her favorite color to her deepest secrets. He didn't need to see her face to know her words were honest and raw, nor did he need his sight to know that she was beautiful.

And dear God, she was so beautiful.

The contagiousness of her laugh, the way her arm linked with his wherever they went, and the smell of the vanilla perfume he bought her once for her birthday; all of these made Y/n seem so incredible to Tsukishima. And now, the feeling of her hands playing with his hair felt so blissful that he prayed she would never stop.

"The stars look so lovely tonight," she whispered to him, continuing to caress his hair.

"They sure do."

"Do you want me to describe them to you?"

"Why? I can see them perfectly fine."

A chuckle escaped her throat. His sarcastic and aloof demeanor were some of Y/n's favorite things about her best friend. It's one of the countless things about him that made her heart feel like it was fluttering out of her ribcage and into his hands. Just like Tsukishima, Y/n knew her best friend so well that she could write a book on his biography without his help.

As she describes the stars in a way she hoped Tsukishima could understand, her thought subconsciously drift to the first time they met. It was a dull first meeting, but it was a moment that they never thought would have blossomed into a friendship neither one could live without.

Y/n's toddler feet rushed to the swing set, her favorite part of the playground. Her mother trailed shortly behind her, taking notice of the mother and son that also occupied the swing set. It was the first time that Y/n had ever seen someone with blond hair, and it was also the first time she had seen someone who was blind. She didn't know that yet, though.

Her mother watched her hop onto the swing next to the blond boy, her tiny 6-year-old body hanging above the ground. Her mother began to push her, sending her higher and higher into the vibrant blue sky. As she giggled with joy, her mother and the boy's mother began to converse about their children and how different they were. Y/n, who was excitable and easily entertained, contrasted entirely from Tsukishima, a calm and indifferent personality. He swung at a less intense velocity compared to the girl next to him and listened to her laugh, his curiosity of the girl growing more and more.

Tsukishima and Y/n hadn't spoken the day they met, but they were to be met with each other constantly after that day in the park. Soon after their first meeting, Y/n learned that he was unable to see, confusing the child at such a young age. Eventually, she grew used to his disability, even doing her own research as she grew older to learn how to best accommodate the boy she grew so fond of.

Their friendship was not an easy one to form. Throughout most of their elementary school lives, they remained acquaintances and only hung out when their mothers found the time to see each other. The blond boy kept himself close off from others to avoid being asked trivial questions that he didn't have real answers to, such as "Why can't you see?" and, "If you're blind, why do you still go to school here?" He found himself only answering these questions when she asked them, knowing that Y/n wasn't the type to judge his incapability. In fact, Y/n was the only one that Tsukishima didn't completely ignore. She was nice to him no matter how cold and brooding his attitude was, plus he was essentially obligated to speak to her because of their mothers' friendship.

It wasn't until middle school when they decided to hang around each other a little longer, making conversations that lasted more than half an hour or so. Y/n started walking home with him after their club activities, and Tsukishima shockingly began asking her to come over or go to stores with him. It was nice for each of them to have a polar opposite best friend, seeing as there was a balance that they brought each other. The level-headed, sarcastic introvert found himself making jokes at the expense of Y/n's ears, earning a booming laugh and grin he wished he could see. The expressive and loud character that was Y/n developed a level of patience that was only active when Tsukishima was present. In a way, it was like she was a light as bright as the Sun, slowly but surely melting away the thick, icy walls Tsukishima sheltered himself in. Conversely, he was the rain that trickled onto the flames of her wildfire, extinguishing not her beloved warmth, but rather the smoke that was to be endured after the flames.

A comfortable silence fell over them after Y/n finished her attempt at describing the white lights above them, her eyes trailing down to look at Tsukishima's angelic facial features. It's a shame that he'll never see how handsome he really is, Y/n thought. His skin was so incredibly clear that she was almost jealous. The messy tousle of his hair was soft to the touch, and his lips— God, his lips— looked so sweet against his moonlight-colored skin. At times like this when she admired him, She was thankful he couldn't see the blood rushing to her cheeks, painting them a deep shade of pink.

She tried to shake away the thoughts of adoration, but Y/n couldn't help herself. Her best friend was extremely gorgeous, quick-witted, and hilarious, but he was just that: Her best friend. Whatever it was that she felt for him, she didn't want it to ruin the memories they had, the secrets they shared, or the nights they spent, such as this one. Their friendship meant the entire world to this teenage girl, and the last thing she needed was to be rejected by her favorite confidant. A tap was felt on her hand.

"What are you thinking about?"

After thinking for a moment, Y/n replies.

"You."

The flirtatious tone in Y/n voice earned a scoff and a light smack on her hand in reply. "Be serious. What's your tiny brain thinking of?" Tsukishima asked yet again.

"Rude!"

"Well?"

"Well right now, I'm thinking about how cold this place is. How is it that we've come to this spot nearly every week for the past year and I always forget to bring a blanket?"

He let out a breathy laugh, a sound Y/n wouldn't mind listening to for the rest of her life. "I told you, it's because of your tiny brain."

"You never remind me!"

"I don't remember saying I would do such a thing!"

"That what best friends do, dumbass."

"Hm. Right."

Tension filled their bodies as sound of the term reached each of their ears. Best friends. That was all they were. Best friends that spent every moment they could in each other's presence. Best friends that dreamed about what each other’s lips tasted like. Best friends that felt the incessant flutter of butterflies at the mere thought of one another. Best friends that let their touches linger for much longer than truly necessary.

If that's what best friends were, then they were the absolute best of friends.

#tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #blind!tsukishima

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nobodyeverasked · 5 years

Text

back to you; kim wooseok

(4704 words) - large

Summary: X marks the spot.

A/N: This isn’t a request, but I literally needed to do this or the idea would’ve slipped from my mind (I planned to do this one before their debut, which passed). I literally pumped this out in one day, so I hope you enjoy! I’m working on requests right now, so this is just something to take the edge off in the meantime.

Y/N tried his best to wring out the sweat staining the soft skin of his hands, not to be blinded by the beryl spotlights stabbing into his eyes, or deafened by the ear-piercing applause rumbling the oily black stage below him. The tremors of fear clawed throughout his body, months of hard work that passed like seconds, but felt like years amalgamating into an abyssal conglomerate of nerves bunching at the back of his throat. Produce X 101 was a rollercoaster of any emotion that a human being could possibly feel, and bared every burden that one could carry on their shoulders. It was a nightmare hidden in a daydream, but also the oasis in the desert.

He has made so many friends, and had to hug so many people a bitter farewell, clutching onto their tear-stained blazers and looking into too many glassy eyes…

Too many…

He was able to perform in front of hundreds of thousands of people and was able to hear the chimes of people's voices echo his name from every corner of the venue. He finally felt what it would be like to live in only a fraction of his most desired ambitions, and leave the pinewood floor of the same practice room at Pledis that he danced in for three years - trapped. The mirror that always stood in front of him replaced with a flurry of dancing lights and compassionate smiles.

He reflected on his journey here, and how many of those who held him dear still stood on the giant black ‘X’ in the middle of the stage, how many he danced with, sang with, laughed with, and cried with. The blade of distress wedged itself further in his heart when the numbers and names appeared on that large screen every single day.

As soon as he entered through that doorway, his entertainment company - Pledis Entertainment - shining in blinding lights on the screen behind him, eyes and expectations lingered on him like a cheap perfume, and fortunately, his audition did not disappoint. His reign as a threat, though, only lasted until the night bled into the sunlit sky, the reevaluation.

He lost his voice during the reevaluation halfway through the song. All he could do was continue to dance with the shadows of dejection strewn across his once nervous smile.

As soon as he fled from the prying eyes behind the camera, he felt the frigid shivers of sympathy already boring into his skull. His confidence and his motivation were broken, and his hopes sunk to the pit of his stomach ever since.

He never left the fragile warmth and safety of Han Seungwoo’s arms that day.

His redemption for both respect, and himself, started to build up in front of him as soon as his voice started to come back during his Blood, Sweat and Tears performance and was able to shoot up to first for two episodes straight, finally losing the stares of sympathy, and gaining curved lips of recognition.

He was a considerable threat during the series, placing in the top eleven for almost every episode. He was always commended for his relentless perseverance despite his slip-ups, his sense of humor, his seemingly endless inventory of talents and the bonds that he had with many other trainees that managed to be caught in the heavenly light of his smile. The narrative that was forged through the heat of every heavy breath he drew, and every word sung through his lips made his journey through the first half of the series seem like a breeze, what could have gone wrong?

It was Wooseok, Kim Wooseok…

Believe it or not, they were actually a couple during Wooseok’s days as a member of Up10tion, however, the twines that fused their gazes and interweaved their fingers slowly snapped, and the tides separating their touches pushed them further away from each other. Wooseok’s hiatus was the final thing that shut their mouths and stopped the peppering of one-word texts that were sent through their phones once every other week. Wooseok - the older - was absolutely bewildered, to say the least, when Pledis showed up on the screen ahead of him and Y/N came in, timidly scampering through the cobalt doorway of the main room.

Many flames burned in his heart and marred his brain. He was thrilled to look into those enthralling eyes once more, to see every single sparkle lining his crescent-moon gaze, to know the stories that hung between those upturned lips, and remember the flavour of the tongue that danced with his. However, his heart hurt just as much as every part of him yearned for his touch, and for his grip to coil around the waist that fitted between his hands so perfectly. He knew that he could only admire his boyfriend from a distance.

He made a fissure so long and wide - created through months and months of silence and habitual excuses - that no matter how close they were physically, their hearts would still be millions of miles away.

The ranks were already being shared, one less person standing on the X, and adding one more spark of sadness to fester in the pit of Y/N’s stomach.

He placed third just before this finale, he could not have fallen so far, he had confidence that he delivered a decent performance, putting all of his effort into every single line of To My World that he had. An uncomfortable, thick heat flourished under Y/N’s navy blazer, and his spirits started to fall with every name that was called. None were his…

“Lee Eunsang from Brand New Music!”

He and Eunsang never talked that much, all they used to share were approving glances of each other’s talents. They shared a mutual admiration for each other, but one that never passed through their anxiously pursed lips. Y/N had no idea how Eunsang could pull of such a vibrant head of scarlet hair, and Eunsang had no idea how Y/N found the perseverance to keep going and staying positive, despite the humiliation that thrashed wildly at him during the reevaluation, and the difficulty of working with unprofessional trainees who already had the lights of optimism fading from their dark eyes. If Y/N made the group - or ‘when’ in Eunsang’s book - he would spill out all of the feelings that were stuck on the tip of his tongue since they spared stares for each other.

“Kang Minhee from Starship Entertainment!”

He liked Minhee, and Minhee liked him, they were on the same team once, and all they could remember was suffering the same storm of hopelessness as they stood in their line, waiting for the ranks of their concept evaluation to be slapped onto that dreadful, black screen. He could still feel Minhee’s head laid limply on his shoulder when they were practicing, the haze of nightfall still felt through the hollow walls and the pale light of the practice room.

“Cha Junho from Woollim Entertainment!”

Cha Junho and Y/N had a connection that hid behind closed doors, and out from under the cerulean lights that lit under Junho’s feet. Y/N was one of the people who was able to see the side of Junho that was barely ever shown, the emotional one. The one that would have Junho heave in fits of relentless laughter when they joked with each other, the one that would cast a blush across his tanned cheeks whenever Y/N would complement his singing, or the one that would silently fanboy over Y/N’s gaze towards the camera.

“Nam Dohyun from MBK Entertainment!”

They never really conversed that much, however, all Dohyun knew about Y/N was that he deserved to feel the blue leather of one of these seats just as much as he did. They usually exchanged glances every now and then, and shared sheepish smiles when and after Dohyun failed to do a pullup. If Y/N debuts, he knows he will never hear the end of it, but he also knows that he will probably soon find something to tease Y/N about on their late-night car rides to the gym.

“Lee Hangyul from MBK Entertainment!”

Despite the vast contrast of the presences that they carried off stage, Hangyul knew that he was immediately enamoured by Y/N’s aura as soon as he performed Blood, Sweat, and Tears. The maturity that bloomed so abruptly in his peaceful eyes and the fires of such graceful intensity that writhed with every movement he made on that stage shocked him, but also brought them together. They could never forget the passive conversations that conquered the starlight seeping in through the windows of their dorm or the warmth of each other’s support that was always cradled close to their hearts.

“Son Dongpyo from DSP Media!”

These two babies were inseparable since the beginning, their combined cuteness shining a light of positivity and happiness that everyone desperately needed. Dongpyo had immense respect for Y/N since he found the motivation to move on after his mistakes during the reevaluation, and was one of the first to hold him in his arms when he stepped out of the frame of the camera. Soon enough, Seungwoo had two kids, both of whom he loves with all of his heart.

If Y/N debuts, Dongpyo hopes to let the candlelights of their emerging friendship to erupt like wildfire, and for their moments together to forever be engraved in their heads.

“Cho Seungyoun from Yuehua Entertainment!”

They barely ever conversed, only sparing glances every now and then, and smiling at each other through the screen when they performed their separate songs. Even though it was never forged into words, the respect for each other was always there - lingering in the sparks of their eyes whenever they watched each other. They would love to see each other grow if they manage to debut together.

“Song Hyeongjun from Starship Entertainment!”

Y/N was starting to get nervous now, he was in third place, and he knew that with people like Yohan, Seungwoo, Wooseok, and Jinhyuk, that there was no way he was going to be seated on one of those chairs, feeling the relieving coolness of that blue leather running under his palms. The shadows of doubt ate away at the flames of hope in his heart, and the tremors of fear and disappointment convulsing through his hands - clenched at his sides. Although his faith was starting to wither, he could not be prouder of one of his best friends, Song Hyeongjun.

They clicked ever since they caught each other’s gaze, the nervous greetings towards each other that haunted their memories fading away as they started to spend more time together, the melodies of their shared laughter forever resonating throughout their heads. They both knew that no matter how bad things got, they would always seek solace in each other, have a shoulder that they could lean on, and arms they could fall into. When they both debut - as Hyeonjun liked to remind Y/N every single day - he wants to make new memories and share more moments, burn the stage and flood arenas everywhere with their boundless compassion.

“Han Seungwoo from Plan A Entertainment!”

Y/N could barely think about how much Seungwoo has changed his life until he was swept into a tight hug, his trance of bittersweet thoughts, and the sour flavour of dread lining his tongue dissipating in the warmth of Seungwoo’s embrace. All Y/N managed to muster was a weak sigh, nestling his head into the curve of Seungwoo’s neck, and relishing in his squared shoulders that he has leaned on and cried into countless times. He hugged him as if it was his last time, the torrid heat pooling between their pressed chests reminding Y/N that with Seungwoo taking third, maybe it actually was.

Reluctantly parting, Y/N walked back to his place on the X. There was the last spot, he thought desperately. However, looking at the heavy heads that were hung around him, he knew that this… This was the end, he knew who the last two were going to be, and he knew who would be taking the twelfth spot of this group, it was not going to be him.

He had to sacrifice everything, waste his breath, hold back his tears and make limitless bonds only to see them slip through his very fingertips. The waves of his self-doubt hurling him further away from the debut that he poured his everything into.

The ringing in his ears shoved him into the pools of anguish, his head dropped too low to see Yohan winning first place and Wooseok - his boyfriend - obtaining second. Y/N may not even get to apologize to the man he still loves.

He was sorry for not being good enough, sorry for holding him back, sorry for not being there.

His heart pounded against his ribs, the lights above him carving out the oily shadows of distress tainting his once hopeful smile, and painting a tapestry of worry along his entire body. He was too deafened by his own mantra of disheartening thoughts to hear the audience ahead of him screaming his name, hoping to help the ashes of his desperation rise into the phoenix of optimism and confidence that he once was.

Everyone perched on their ranking seats were sweating bullets, hands bunched at their sides. The embers of hope blooming in their widened eyes as soon as they realized that their friend - Y/N - was not up here with them, but was on the screen behind them, along with three other trainees.

Y/N was a nominee for the X spot along with Jinhyuk, Minkyu, and Jungmo, however, he was too scared and desperate to notice, his gaze stuck to the floor below him, and his hands draped dejectedly behind his back.

Almost everyone near Wooseok could hear a rough sigh burst out from between his lips as he hunched over, his elbows digging into his knees and his nails wedging into his palm. He could still feel Y/N’s fingers interlacing with his, and he could still hear the faint echoes of the summer rain tapping against their window as they once fell asleep in each other’s arms, nothing on their minds except each other. All he wants to do is hold him, sing with him, perform with him. He wants to kiss him, hug him, embrace him. Talk with him until the sun rose and cuddle with him until the stars died. He yearned to tell him everything that he was too stupid to say, and to fall at his feet, promising to never take Y/N’s untainted love for granted ever again.

Jungmo, Minkyu and Jinhyuk, and Y/N all looked at each other in absolute shock. Looking up at the screen, exhausted and doubtful, he knew for sure that this was the end for him. He saw the other boys, and how much worthier they were for this group, how a relentless fire of hope still danced in their eyes.

He let his gaze fall back to the glossy, black floors, his reflection searing into his mind. His tired eyes, his face shaded with doubt, and his once radiant smile that entranced the entire country - no, the world - now a firm line embellishing his usually joyous features. He barely let the sob boiling at the back of his throat crash through his bitten lip until a hand clutched his, fingers silently threading together.

It was Jinhyuk, watching with heartache as a tear of unmixed anguish finally broke from Y/N’s dull eyes, the sparks of maturity that Hangyul found himself absorbed in, gone, and the healthy glow in his cheeks that burned brighter with every casual smile he shone, erased by the rivers carving into them.

Jungmo leaned over to grab his other hand, bending down and trying to look him in the eyes, but the weights of dejection only pulled Y/N’s head further down, unwilling to look at the person whose dreams that would either be broken, or the person that could make whatever menial semblance of hope he still had perish in an instant.

Y/N’s mangled thoughts finally overtook him, a cobweb of distress and sorrow thickening in his head, the darkness of his insecurities finally bringing the walls of his fragile stability tumbling down. He was too enwrapped by the cacophonies of his own anxiety and sadness, that he did not even hear the host call his name.

“Y/N from Pledis Entertainment!!!”

When the echoes - that felt oh so distant - finally clawed their way into his head, his eyes finally lifted from the floor once again, and his jaw dropped, his teary gaze pried open by the delicate hands of surprise. All of the tribulations he faced with every single week, all of the stress that infected his mind as his rank dropped and rose as it pleased, and all of the tears he shed were finally worth it. Within a fraction of his sharpening vision, he could feel everyone diving in to hug him, all of the happiness and gratitude swelling in his chest bringing him to his knees.

Everyone ranked on their blue leather seats shot up, clapping as they shouted Y/N’s name in symphonies of their own joy. Their dear friend, a kid that they forged so many memories with on and off camera, on and off the show, is going to be debuting with them, they could never feel more proud.

Y/N could barely notice people frantically wiping away his tears for him before he instantly wrapped his arms around the people closest to him, his face buried in Jinhyuk’s chest, and his arms wrapped around both Jungmo and Yuvin, who embraced him just as tightly. Walking down the aisle, and following in the footsteps of eleven of his closest friends, was one of the best feelings that he has ever experienced. Sapphire lights ignited under his feet as he looked up at the young men smiling down at him, all of the memories that he has experienced with every single one of them resurfacing in his mind.

Wooseok instantly jumped up from his chair - much to everyone’s surprise - and ran to Y/N, the younger boy who just regained his composure crumbling to the ground in tears once more when his gaze fell upon Wooseok, who had his arms spread wide open and enveloped his boyfriend in the warmest, most loving embrace that they have shared in months. It felt absolutely wonderful for both boys, to feel the skin that ran between their lips after so long, and the ardor that stirred in their mending hearts. They reveled in the flames of their compassion taking flight in the streams of cobalt light draping over them, and buried their faces into each other’s necks, the scents of their past memories still resonating in their heads even after so long.

“Y/N, baby, I’m so sorry!” Wooseok’s voice shook with tremors of boundless regret, his voice so soft - barely above a whisper - but his words so strong, as if he was screaming from the rooftops they always used to spend time on, the starlight that used to hang over them and their interwoven lips still shining brightly in their minds. “I felt so many things, but I never had the balls to tell you anything! I’m so sorry we stopped talking, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t have been there for you when you needed me! I just want to hold you, hug, and kiss you again… I want it to be just like the old times… Please…”

“It’s okay, it’s all okay…” Y/N barely managed to weave his words together through his breathy sobs. “I would like that, very much… I’m sorry, Wooseok, I should’ve-”

“You have absolutely nothing to worry about, babe…” Wooseok leaned back to wipe away his boyfriend’s tears, still streaming down his cheeks, and glistening in the spotlights still hanging over them. The heat blistering between Wooseok’s fingers singed Y/N’s skin with the scorch marks of admiration, his thumbs gently gliding across his cheeks reminding both of them how much they yearned for their delicate touches, and their interlocked gazes helping them reminisce about simpler times. Much simpler times… “Thank you. I love you, so so so so so much…”

Hearing him say those words after so long, and feeling the symphonies of sincerity lacing his words made Y/N lean his head back on Wooseok’s shoulder and melt further into his loving embrace.

They parted slowly, Y/N’s fingers still loosely entwined with the older’s, and his heart still burning with the passionate flames of a reinvigorated fondness. It has been so difficult, easing into this competition without feeling Wooseok’s soothing hands skipping stones of tenderness across his skin, or having his heart broken with every passing elimination and not having those perfect, rose lips to mend it back together. Hearing ‘I love you’ from him meant more than anything to him.

“Now go, give your speech, you deserve it…” Wooseok pulls Y/N back in for a quick embrace, giving a secret kiss under his jaw before hopping back up the stairs, looking around with a satisfied smile at all the other boys who still had hints of surprise still lingering on their faces.

Dongwook handed Y/N another microphone with a sweet smile strewn across his pale, pink lips. He has watched Y/N grow so much in the past couple months that he has known him, and he could not be more proud of the boy standing before him.

“Hello, I’m Y/N form Pledis Entertainment!” Y/N bowed to the crowd and the screams of congratulations flooded the entire venue, the applause and relentless cheers making the sapphire lights cast upon them convulse to the noise. “When I lost my voice and went to F, I thought I was a failure… I-I knew I was a failure.” All of the fans yell a chorus of ‘NO!’s back at him, causing a weak chuckle to roll off his tongue and through his quivering lips, “but you all made me feel so loved, so wanted - it’s been such a long time…” He looked at the trainers across the stage, at the trainees still standing on the X below him and to all of the people that he made such beautiful memories with. He wished - more than anything - that he could take all of the boys with him. “Whether it be helping me get my voice back, helping me with dancing, singing, or just being a better person - a better everything.” He looked up and around him, watching with a thin smile, flourishing with the tiny sparks of bliss. “You’ve all treated me so well. In this group, I will repay you with everything I have, and give you the Y/N that will not put your faith in vain. Thank you so much!” Y/N let one last sob rip through his upturned lips before giving the microphone back to Dongwook and sitting down in the chair behind him, the gold ‘X’ never shining brighter, and the blue leather resting under his hands never feeling better - softer.

This was it, this was the start of something new. Something better…

Much better…

These past couple weeks with the eleven boys that have somehow burrowed deeper into his heart have been magnificent, and spending more time with Wooseok has made their connection that much stronger, their love burning even brighter than the days they first got together.

They were laying on his bed in their dorm, the dark grey sheets rippling against their interwoven bodies, and the pale moonlight seeping through the windows, draping against them. Wooseok’s hand was lost in Y/N’s hair, mindlessly threading his fingers between his locks and pressing his lips to the knuckles that he pulled towards him. The haze of pure, untainted bliss surrounded them, strumming the strings of their heart and belting a symphony of admiration that soared gracefully throughout the room, nothing but the warmth of their love and the tranquil silence.

“We have so much time to make up for.” Wooseok wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, the fingers that ran along his hands in a haphazard daze making his grip tighter with every one of their interwoven heartbeats that meandered in the peaceful air hovering around them. He did not want to lose Y/N - the biggest blessing in his life - never again.

“Tell me about it…”

“I missed this too, your skin is so soft, so warm…” Wooseok traced kisses across Y/N’s collar bones, the hums of comfort and pleasure that stirred above him, settling into the gelid air of nightfall coiling their bodies.

“I mean, I have been using this new lotion, and you know Areum from Uni?”

“Yeah-”

“She gave me advice on some face masks and primers, I-” Y/N finally looked up to see the older’s stoic expression and his sarcastically lidded eyes, prepared to roll into his skull at any given moment. “Oh, that… Is not what you meant.”

Y/N tries to stifle a screech into Wooseok’s shoulder as he was heaved up and tackled back into the bed, the older’s smirk searing into the younger’s chest, and their legs intertwining as soon as their gazes interlocked once more, the starlight caught in their stares, new galaxies of wonder forged with every blink. Wooseok buried his nose into the curve of Y/N’s neck, upturned lips seizing supple skin, and a sigh of alleviation seeping further into it.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant…” Wooseok’s eyes shone with the sparks of his admiration - ones that never died - the moonlight that bathed his pale skin glossing over his magnetic lips, and entwining with the gentle, brown waves that swathed his forehead. “But it’s like my hands never forgot you, I’m glad.”

“Me too, Seokie…”

Their soft smiles weaved together in a seamless dance of sweltering admiration, hands, and fingers - surging with the warmth of compassion - wandering over skin in cherishing touches. All of the painful memories, harbouring nothing but painful silence and vague, heartless texts, dissipating in the haze of their euphoria, and the mist of twilight settling between the languid pulses of their lips. Blissful embers took flight in the peaceful currents swelling throughout the room, all of the tiny habits that lingered in their minds, and shone under the barren abyss of the night performing under the spotlight of their heavy breaths after so long. Like how Wooseok would always roll them over and have the younger’s precious thighs seize his waist, or how Y/N would edge his teeth into his boyfriend’s lip every once in a while. It was the little things, the shifting of touches, and the feathery kisses that trailed their jawlines, that made them happy.

They both pulled back, lidded eyes - pulled down by the weight of the heavy dusk - and lethargic smiles gracing their features before they drifted off to sleep, Y/N still laying on Wooseok’s chest, and the latter’s nose buried in the head of hair that was still marred by the scorch marks of his delicate touches.

“Oh-” The opening of their bedroom door went unnoticed by the peacefully sleeping boys as Yohan popped his head through the crack he made for himself, the tangle of limbs on the bed casting a bright smile across his lips. “Yep, this ship is definitely sailing.”

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writingandprocrastinating · 4 years

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setting the mood

One of the most effective ways to make your readers feel like they’re actually in your novel and feel the emotions of the character is to set the mood! And, of course, who doesn’t like a good old-fashioned post on descriptions?

I’ll see myself out.

lighting

Okay, hear me out. Lighting is very important for the mood you’re trying to convey! What do we associate evil with? The darkness. What do we associate good with? The light. Similarly, you can reflect these themes when describing the amount of light in a place. Take, for example--

The corridor was cramped and shadowy, her eyes straining to find a sliver of light to help guide her.

The corridor was light and airy, golden beams of sunlight pouring in from the cracks in the wall.

It’s the same corridor--but the amount of light changes the mood!

Another example? If you see someone in nearly complete shadow, it can give you a very different perception of them than if they were in, say, full daylight. The same goes for places, like the corridor described!

You can also shadow one place and light the other, like in the Lion King, where Simba points out the “shadowy place.” Immediately, we can tell that the “shadowy place” is associated with darkness, mystery, and danger, while the lighter lands are free, safe, and protected.

A way to use this in your writing is to have your character(s) observe that a certain part of where they are is shadowed, while the rest is illuminated. This can not only create curiosity in the characters/readers, but also can help with symbolism. Does your MC have a gift from a mysterious stranger? Boom, it’s in their room, but the sunlight somehow doesn’t touch it. Symbolism right there--since it’s shadowed, it gives off an aura of mystery.

time of day

Going on from lighting, time of day is a big part of settings and their moods. The night is usually associated with evil, darkness, fear, and uncertainty, while the day is associated with good, light, youth, and innocence. Additionally, sunrises can symbolize new beginnings (a new day), and sunsets the end of an era/danger approaching. Twilight (or dusk) can be shown as the beauty in darkness, because even though the sun is setting and darkness approaching, there is still some beauty left over from the day (the colors in the sky).

An example is a coronation being held in the early morning, just as the sun comes up--this shows how the crowning of a new monarch is bringing changes to the novel.

weather

I use this one a lot in my work! While sunlight is associated with happiness and rain with sadness, you can also use the culture and sayings of your WIP’s universe to associate meanings to weather. In my novel, Flame and Shadow, snow is associated with the cleansing of the land, and therefore, new beginnings. It can also be used to symbolize coldness (metaphorically) and/or tension. A brewing storm would be a great way to show brewing tensions, and wind to symbolize the “winds of change.” But you can also have your MC bring up a story behind the weather, like mine does, to foreshadow the novel’s events.

Similarly, the temperature can be used to convey different emotions--warmth for, well, warmth and compassion and lazy days, and the cold for tension and coldness and a fragile atmosphere. Of course, there’s middle ground to work with as well.

colors!!

Color symbolism can be used to really show the mood that you’re trying to convey! A quick rundown on the colors and their meanings:

Red - Passion, love, violence, war, anger

Orange - Friendliness, youth, confidence, ambition

Yellow - Positivity, curiosity, caution, energy

Green - Nature, originality, growth, relaxation

Blue - Intelligence, calm, freedom, loyalty

Purple - Royalty, imagination, mystery, power

Pink - Beauty, fragility, grace, innocence

Brown - Warmth, comfort, stability, honesty

Black - Mourning, elegance, discipline, authority

Grey - Neutrality, practicality, quiet, formality

White - Purity, perfection, clarity, simplicity

These colors can be shown in objects and in the setting around a character to reflect the situation that they’re in, or their personal mood. Suppose that they’re in a lot of danger and have found a safe refuge. Well, you could choose between a calming atmosphere, or a place that reminds the character of the trouble they’re in.

If you go for the first option, you might have the walls of the refuge painted brown, with little to no vibrant, bold colors. You might choose the opposite and have accents of red (standing for violence) and black (for lives lost).

Of course, you don’t want to include a whole lot of vibrant, happy colors in the middle of a war, or black during a happy occasion. But at the same time, you can, from time to time, include some objects whose colors have a contrasting connotation to the event. These create foreshadowing for the readers/characters, and dread/hope, respectively, during good and bad times.

Example 1 (Good in a bad time) - Elyse walked through the woods, exhausted from the weight of the world and the war upon her shoulders, when she saw it--a brilliant yellow flower, a dandelion poking through the snow. She thought it as a sign, and decided not to pick it, a new surge of courage and energy coursing through her as she continued through the forest.

Example 2 (Bad in a good time) - Elyse hummed to herself as she sat in the field, picking flowers and working them into a colorful crown of pink carnations and daisies. Everything was perfect--she was to be married to the love of her life, her parents approved of him, and she did not need to worry about money for the rest of her life. As she reached for another flower, something possessed her to stop and look up from her handiwork. There, among the daisies and the carnations, was a wilting rose the color of the sky at midnight. Elyse shook her head, ignoring the flower, and continued picking flowers for her crown, the wilted rose forgotten by morning.

Color symbolism can also be used in clothing chosen and gifts given by/to our characters, and, like weather, can have different meanings depending on your WIP’s universe. It’s all about the placing :)

So there you have it! Four ways to set the mood in your settings. There’s almost definitely more to add to the list, and keep in mind that these are only a few :D

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shrewful · 4 years

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Apex Tempest: Chapter One

The fruit of my NaNoWriMo labor thus far -- it's not much in the grand scheme of things, but oh boy, I sure did make the words go!

Though General Kaligon usually loved the oceans, she quietly admitted to herself that the Verult Sea wasn’t particularly her favorite -- namely because it wasn’t quite a sea at all.

Many, many years ago, The Verult was once filled with water just as its siblings; but now, though lower in elevation than the mainland, it was higher than that of the sea level. The descendants of the coastal trees who’d spread their seeds to this new swath of land evolved to more & more efficiently transform the vast amounts of salt and minerals into energy, eventually forming what was once an ocean into a thick, towering jungle; if you were to stand at the edge of the mainland, looking out across it, you might mistake the wind blowing through the canopy’s leaves as the green waves of a sprawling ocean. What creatures survived the water’s leave developed to be as large and strange as the flora that hid them, able to see in the near pitch blackness that the thick branches and foliage cast on the forest floor.

It was these creatures that both unnerved and comforted Kaligon as her caravan passed through one of the Verult’s only roads. Between the sound of wagon wheels and the apprehensive chatter of her compatriots, it was the coo and caw of the surrounding birds that prevented the journey from being an eerily quiet one. She could hear them just overhead, but the creatures remained out of sight, leaving their appearances to Kaligon’s imagination.

Kaligon shuddered. It was as cold as it was dark, beneath the canopy. Lanterns hung from each corner of each carriage and wagon, with some small carts dedicated to caged flames illuminating the width of the path around them, but nothing more. The men and women in their uniforms huddled around them, pretending to be in rank as they were at the beginning of the journey, but unconsciously clumped together around the warmth. The light danced off the reflections of their silver buttons and illuminated the vibrant Corsiv cobalt and terracotta of their scout’s shawls and soldier’s jackets. It cast shadows across the undersides of their faces; highlighting the uncertainty in their countenance and the wariness in their eyes. As Kaligon approached, it illuminated her face as well.

The soldiers lurched for their rifles, scouts’ hands drawn to their sabers -- Kaligon motioned for them to calm with a steady downwards wave of her hand, and as they came to their bearings and realized who she was, they sighed in relief and drew their hands away from their weapons. Unease still clung to the face of the new recruits. Kaligon understood -- she wasn’t easy on the eyes, to most. Her reflection in the metal of the caged hearth stood in stark contrast to her compatriots; their fair, grayish-blue Corsiv complexions against her battered skin, strewn with scars from burns.

Kaligon let the fire warm her for a minute, then took a deep breath, eyes passing over the familiar faces, then a not so familiar face; her new recruit.

“Wydoda, walk with me.”

Kaligon stepped away from the fire and began walking alongside one of the larger carts, footsteps close behind as the figure took up a place to her left. Under the cart’s light, she glimpsed his features; where his eyes should’ve been white, they were green, and where they should be green, they were white. He held himself like he was about to fall apart; arms at his sides, at the ready to hold his legs in place should they part from him.

“You needed something?” Wydoda broke the quiet seconds it took for Kaligon to look him over.

“Just checking in. I can only imagine it’s been a bit rough on you?”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say that.” He offered a hesitant smile, looking unconvinced of himself, passing a gaze from Kaligon to the treeline and back. “It can be, eh, new, but I can deal with new. New is the spice of life.”

“New can be scary.”

“New… can be scary. It has been.” Wydoda admitted. “Most Corsivans aren’t terribly fond of things they don’t recognize. I can only imagine you’ve had similar experiences?”

Kaligon’s face softened with sympathy, a sigh escaping her lips. It wasn’t too long ago she was in the same place; sent across the continent by the Alliance to a place she’d never been, put in the company of people who looked at her like they looked at some terrifying animal on a thin leash. She extended a hand -- then retracted it -- inched it forward, then, once past the fear of making things awkward, placed it on his shoulder, giving him a comforting pat and earning an array of confused, then ultimately appreciative looks.

“They’re just nervous -- I went through the same song and dance. Your home country just joined the Alliance, didn’t it?” She offered. “Mhm. You’d think the news never got to this place -- people look at me like I’m about to run up & attack them.”

“Misale, right?” “Misale.” Wydoda sighed wistfully. “I’m sure Corsiva’ll have the same effect on me in time, but even saying the name makes me think of home. Rolling hills, violet waters, sweet air. Oh, you should hear the birds. Sweetest song out of any beak this side of the mountains.” “Think I’ve had enough of birds.” Kaligon huffed. “Damn things’ve made this trip a nightmare.” Kaligon paused; Wydoda in turn.

“Hault. Quiet!” Kaligon spun around and barked, eyes darting between each soldier as she counted heads.

The baubles and lanterns of the carts shook as they came to a stop, murmur amongst the soldiers rising and falling after the demand. Silence took the air.

Kaligon hadn’t heard silence in days; no birdcall.

“We stop here for now,” The general called back, “keep on guard. Something is wrong.”

She unsheathed two rather odd-looking swords, Wydoda thought; the blades were curved, each facing the opposite direction. Their hilts were far too long, looking to be made of some dark rock, and didn’t seem to have pommels -- as Kaligon put the ends of each together with a click, the weapon began to make more sense. It was a stone glaive, of sorts, with a blade on each end.

“How do you carry --”

Wydoda’s question was cut short; Kaligon marched ahead of the ranks, the elegant yet absurd weapon clutched in hand, muscles straining. As she passed the last cart, she took one lantern from its side, hooking its handle with the curved tip of her glaive. She stood at the bank of the caravan’s light and the darkness beyond, extending the lantern and narrowing her eyes.

An odd silhouette came into view. The soldiers -- now taking note of the scene -- gathered at her back as the shambling form began to gather more and more definition as it approached the light.

Shoulders, a head, and a strange shape; a robed figure atop a steed. The nearer they drew, the more questions surfaced in Kaligon’s mind. The mount was of a species she didn’t recognize; it could stride over most her men without their heads even grazing the fur on its belly -- or were those quills? It had a short snout, with a jaw that split its maw into quarters rather than halves, and three pairs of ears -- each shorter than the last -- swiveling like anxious butterflies. It stepped forward with all three pairs of its long, stocky legs, covered in a mismatched array of emerald scales and tufts of blackish fur, dagger-like claws jutting out from its paws in unsightly angles and places.

Crimson red cloth spilled over its back; the robe of its master, shrouding all but their face. That task went to a moth, sitting on the bridge of their nose, wings spread like a mask to hide their eyes. Only a thin, polite smile was visible.

Before the pair could come within glaive’s reach, Kaligon held up a hand, gesturing them to stop; they obliged.

“Your business?” Kaligon threw the words into the air, unsure if they’d land -- unusual creatures lived across the mountains; perhaps this was a traveler, in which they’d likely not know Haelian.

“An errand.”

Kaligon’s brow tensed. The voice was strange; melodic, but tinged with something she swore couldn’t come from human chords. Tentatively, she motioned behind her for the caravan to move aside, not sparing the risk of looking over her shoulder. As soon as the stir of moving carts and footsteps began, they silenced themselves, interrupted by the figure’s uncanny voice.

“Oh, no no. I’m not going back to the city -- you are.”

Kaligon’s lip curled in indignation. “I don’t know what authority you think you’re speaking from, but rest assured, we’re above it. Pass, turn back, or I will move this caravan through you.”

In the silence that hung in the air, she could’ve sworn she heard a sigh.

Shrieks filled the air behind her, a shadow passing overhead as the stranger’s beast leapt over Kaligon. She spun around, watching the soldiers lash at the thing with their blades only to be swatted aside like limp dolls. “Call that thing off --” Kaligon spun back, holding the glaive to the figure’s throat “--now, so help me!”

“Turn back.”

Kaligon opened her mouth to voice a retort; energy coursed through her core, and instead of words, molten light burst through her teeth and from her lips with a shrill cry like blades on metal. Warm silvers and bright golds covered her eyes and poured over her fingers, gilding her skin like paint. It crackled off her in sparks, firing off in every direction, casting beams across the way and illuminating a wide, sharp-toothed grin across the face of the stranger.

The stone glaive now rested effortlessly in her hands; she spun back, lurching to fend the beast away from her men, only to feel something snag her ankle -- she tumbled to the ground, righting herself only to be met with a long snout full of jagged fangs and gleaming, slitted eyes, the moth fluttering away behind them. Through the cloud of dust, a claw swept at her throat -- she batted it away with the glaive, using the other end to propel herself off the ground and back onto her feet.

As the dust cleared, Kaligon watched the shambling figure recoil back and circle. Methodically, bones unfurled from the red cloak, followed by sinew, blood, skin, then scales -- limbs and claws, more jaws and more teeth, the cloth disappearing in the horrific process. As it barreled towards her, Kaligon spun the glaive in a torrent of blades, a dance of clashing claws and metal ensuing.

As soon as they opened, the beast’s wounds closed, pushing Kaligon back with every step. Its jaws snapped around the hilt of the weapon, tearing it from her grasp and throwing it into the trees. It seized the opening, teeth lurching, hot breath on her cheek -- with a shrill cry of fury, she clasped her hands around its maw, smoke rising into the air as golden handprints were marred onto its scales. A muffled scream filled her ears as it tried to pull away, with Kaligon only digging her heels into the ground further. With a shower of leaves and a croak of wood, she hurled it into the side of one of the towering trees, jaws still dripping with fizzing light as it crumpled onto the ground.

Kaligon turned to face the other beast, but as her gaze passed over the forest’s edge, she saw the silhouettes of creatures passing through the branches, eyes piercing through the dark. A shadow loomed over her glowing form; the monster she thought she’d defeated dragged itself from beneath the tree, more towering than it had been before.

Frantically, her eyes darted over her shoulder; most of the carts were left in pieces, her men either cowering in their remains or making fruitless attempts at the assailant with their blades. Kaligon’s heart lurched -- she recognized Wydoda’s crumpled form beneath a wagon wheel. With gritted teeth, she called through the air.

“Fall back!” Tag List:

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ty-talks-comics · 4 years

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Best of Marvel: Week of December 4th, 2019

Best of this Week: Doctor Doom #3 - Christopher Cantwell, Salvador Larroca, Guru-eFX and Cory Petit

Doom is a very complex man.

He wants to be humanity’s savior, the one to see us lift ourselves up by our bootstraps and accomplish everything that he believes us capable of. At the same time, he wants to rule over it all as the supreme being over everything. His motivations are kinda good, but his methodology and lust for power will always be his downfall. For a man of immense intelligence and power, the only thing that trips him up is himself and it will always be that way, no matter how good he tries to be.

This issue starts off with Doctor Doom having a vision of the future. He sees a world made better by his own inentions, ideas that he might have hatched sometime after his accusation of terrorism from the first issue of this series if he had admitted himself to prison. Surprisingly, his face isn’t disfigured and he’s actually cordial with the crowd that’s allowed him to speak of solar skyscrapers and clean fuel. He seems like a calm, down to Earth, Victor Von Doom. However, amongst those in the crowd is current Doom himself, or what remains of him after being shot in the head in the last issue.

Salvador Larroca then switches from this bright, serene scene, to one of abject Heavy Metal terror as Doom climbs his way up from a sea of skulls in HELL. I cannot stress enough just how badass this art is. Larroca has always been good at visceral art and great backgrounds, but this scene alone is epic. There’s one wide, pulled out shot of a mound of maybe dinosaur bones and lightning crackling into the lava. The next pulls in to a pile of skulls placed against a mass of indeterminate flesh and organs. The next panel shows Doom’s hand breaking free of the pile and the last shows him crawling his way free of the skulls and flesh.

We then get one amazing shot of Doom in a badass set of armor surrounded by the flames, lava, skulls and lightning. Guru-eFX colors this in such a way that you feel the heat and intensity of the flames with hot oranges, the lightning is vibrant and dynamic and Doom stands above it all. His armor looks like something of a combination between a Dream Theater and Disturbed album cover. The use of shadows and lighting emphasize every detail and makes him look like the new biggest threat in Hell and he just strides through like a big dick G.

Eventually he comes upon Mephisto, former Ruler of Hell, and gloats that he finally has Doctor Doom’s soul for eternity. Doom is having none of this and punches Mephisto to the ground before picking him up by the throat, claiming that he was meant to save all of mankind and that he doesn’t belong in hell. Mephisto mocks him by saying that Doom did save his mother from the demon once upon a time (Doctor Doom & Doctor Strange: Triumph and Torment, 1989), but he then also sacrificed the love of his life for more power (Fantastic Four #67, 2003). He then snaps her soul into view of Doom to distract him.

Meanwhile, in Latveria, the political situation is the region is not getting any better as Symkaria is launching an assault with forces, tanks and artillery while NATO and the UN aren’t doing anything to stop it. Victorious is monitoring it all and notes that they plan to “stabilize” Latveria in Doom’s absence and retires to her quarters to clear her head. I do love stories of political intrigue and it’s clear to see how badly the moon base explosion is affecting Doom’s country with his people suffering because of the actions he’s accused of. It’s also interesting to see how Victorious is dealing with her newfound leadership. She gets angry and her generals listen to her, but even she has to relax after everything.

When she goes to her room, Larroca draws an intimate scene where she removes her armor and works out her stress. It shows a level of dedication to her own personal strength and alertness as she success out an assassin in her window. She tries to blast the assassin away, but misses, only for them to enter the room and put up a short fight with Victorious. The fight is dynamic and allows Victorious to show off her hand to hand skills in a small space. Both of these scenes are colored with the backgrounds a nice blue hue to contrast the frenetic action and sees Victorious winning the battle.

Though it pains me to say, Latveria is in a state of disarray because it doesn’t have Doom there to lead it. No one ever tried to send assassins to kill Doom, nor did they try to send forces to stabilize the region when he was around. Though Doom is the very pinnacle of tyranny in the Marvel Universe, every time he is away from his throne, the country goes into shambles. It happened under Lucia von Bardas, it happened when Doom disappeared following Secret Wars (2015) and it happened after Riri Williams seized control from a returning von Bardas and her insurgent force and tried to turn the country into a democracy (Iron Man, 2018).

For all the good that Victorious is doing and the order she’s trying to maintain, Latveria needs Doom.

Shortly after the assassination attempt, we cut back to Doom who is being tempted by the form of his former lover’s soul in hell. She calls him a monster and tries to persuade him to stay in hell with her, but when he refuses because of the visions he’s seen of a future where he saves humanity, it is revealed to be a trick by Mephisto. He rages at Doom for thinking that he will ever be free because of some “visions” that he had and Doom proceeds to beat his ass. Doom punches the Demon, stabs him in the neck with a bone and plunges both of them off of a cliff, into another ocean of skulls.

The fight could have gone on forever with these two, but is soon stopped by Mistress Death. Death usually only appears when mass deaths are incoming and she allows Doom to return to life. Mephisto kneels to her and protests that Doom should be his forever, but she replies that he will actually her greatest servant of all. In light of Thanos being dead and Deadpool not talking to her much anymore, this is a grim portent for Doom and the Universe at large.

I absolutely loved this issue of Doctor Doom. With the history the villain has in Hell, seeing how he might fare there alone is actually metal as hell to see. His armor was badass and made him look like a steampunk knight and the way he held his own without it when he fought Mephisto showed just how much he believed in his vision. Seeing the political crisis that Latveria is facing is intriguing now that we see how they’re dealing with things internally. Christopher Cantwell manages to give Victorious some dimension that was only slightly explored in her first appearance in Fantastic Four earlier this year and makes her a compelling character in this book

Salvador Larroca and Guru-eFX absolutely slayed on the art. Larroca continues to stun with his visceral and detailed art, even managing to make a hoodie clad Doom look strong. His designs, action and pacing make this so much more appealing than I originally thought it would be. Guru-eFX's coloring only accentuates that feeling by eliciting strong emotions based on the hues used. I could feel just how hot and awful hell was through the oranges and I could feel the uncertainty of Victorious through the blues.

Overall, this issue of Doctor Doom and the series thus far is well deserving of a read. Because if you don't, Doom will find you.

#doctor doom #victor von doom #mephisto #death #latveria #christopher cantwell #salvador larroca #guru efx #comics #marvel comics

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hermioneisavirgo-blog · 5 years

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Lover Album Review

After listening to Taylor Swift’s 18-track album all the way through, my mind is blown. I grew up with Taylor’s music, as I first heard “Fearless” when I was 12 years old and have been an avid listener ever since. I just moved into my first apartment in Minneapolis, and I am so pleased that “Lover” can be the soundtrack to the beginning of the rest of my life.

“I Forgot That You Existed” is a banger for a first track. This song emulates a different emotion than we have heard from Taylor before. The upbeat background and snaps create a foundation of optimism, goofiness, and sheer “indifference”. The lyrics are words that anybody can relate to - who hasn’t experienced that blissful feeling when you recognize that you haven’t thought of that dreaded person who shall not be named for days, or even weeks? I was instantly pulled in with this opener.

“Cruel Summer” made me fall in love even more. The beat immediately made me feel like an August night of sitting in the back of an Uber with my friends on a Friday night, windows rolled down and hair going crazy. With this track, we get our first “blue” used in the album. If you’ve listened, you know that the word “blue” appears all over the place. Taylor exemplifies the poetess in her with lines like, “Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes, and if I bleed you’ll be the last to know.”

“Lover”...what can I even say? Not much - this is first dance wedding reception material. This gives me such flashbacks to some of Taylor’s older country-esque songs, with bright-eyed excitement. I get the same feeling here as I do when I listen to “Enchanted” or “Hey Stephen”. However, in contrast to those songs, here she is taking control and stands in a pool of her own confidence as she boldly professes that she has grown and made strides from her days of hopelessly pining for men who weren’t really worth her time.

“The Man”. Okay. Thank you so much for this, Taylor. Made me think of “If I Were a Boy” by Beyonce. This is infused with the feeling of being “tired and angry” like “somebody should be”, which is how Halsey describes similar feelings of being bothered how the lowly boys of this world seem to get whatever the heck they want. You really would be the man, Taylor. Think, for real, as she’s even said in interviews: if she were a man writing songs about even the shortest of flings, that would never be considered taboo and worthy of shaming. This is made evident by the thousands of male singer-songwriters who do just that and are widely accepted.

“The Archer” gave me “Red” album vibes, but that’s just me. “I hate my reflection for years and years...” really got me. From the very beginning of this song, the underlying line grows steadily. It almost feels like one of those never-ending videos where the tone appears to be increasing but never really does...gave me a sense of infinity. Very lush, injected with an emotional pen as she recalls different perspectives from different lovers and relationships.

“I Think He Knows” made me want to DANCE. And I did. A lot. The beat is almost hip-hop club-ish with the bass. It seemed like such an interesting song in contrast to “I Know Places”, from “1989″, which has a haunting sound and alludes to the idea that it’s hard for Taylor to ever feel like she has privacy with her private life. With this song, she isn’t focused on the people looking in at her life, but instead she delves into that private relationship. It makes me feel like she is caring less and less about what people see and what people know. She’s just LIVING her life.

And now, we have reached my favorite song of the album. Thanks for this one, Taylor. Seriously. “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince” doesn’t even sound like any “type” of Taylor we’ve heard before. With the very beginning notes, I called it that I would cry by the end of this. The first verse immediately made me picture the “You Belong With Me” music video with the band uniform and prom dress. Taylor portrays two different sides of a coin in that video, and I feel a bit of that in this song. I really hope she does a music video of this song. I have always loved her more haunting melodies, particularly in the “Red” album (or in “Dancing With Our Hands Tied” - the most underrated song on "reputation”), but this took it to an entirely new level. I am OBSESSED.

“Paper Rings” is so playful, and a great mental break after processing the absurd depth in the previous song. Gave me “Stay, Stay, Stay” vibes. She sound so jovial and happy in this song, and I am so glad to hear her this way.

“Cornelia Street” is one of the fully Taylor Swift-composed songs on the album. This type of song I see myself rocking out to as I power walk down the street in autumn. In the lyrics, she talks about how losing this love would be devastating to the point of taking eternity to heal from. It is a familiar feeling, when you are in so deep with someone who you feel has become a part of you, impermeably and forever.

“Death By a Thousand Cuts” starts off by explaining just what she means. “Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts...” which is an interesting line to hear right after “Cornelia Street”, which invests in the narrative that saying goodbye would be an impossible feat after experiencing connection this strong. The instruments in this song are layered (clear guitar at the beginning with shuffling beats that come in and even something that sounds like a harpsichord??) and even though the message is a painful one, this baroque-poppy feel makes me want to DANCE MORE. But maybe with a lot of moves that make it look like I am in excruciating pain lol.

“London Boy”’s beat is fire flame. It’s a give-in that this song is about Joe Alwyn and as someone who has seen “The Favourite”, I can attest to the dimples and the accent. It’s clear her relationship is not only a a deep love, but also lots of fun, adventure, stepping outside her comfort zone, and recognizing that she can find home in someone who doesn’t live in her own backyard (*ahem* “White Horse”).

“Soon You’ll Get Better” (feat. Dixie Chicks) is simply beautiful. Reminiscent of her country days, as well. Reminds me of “Never Grow Up”. Since the speculation is that this song is about her mother, I find it poignant and very “Taylor” that it’s track 12. “The Best Day” is also track 12 on “Fearless” and was always one of my favorites. Underneath the main message of trying to find comfort in a super tough and scary time, I find that Taylor is enunciating the idea that she is growing up and things will change in her relationship to her parents no matter what. That’s just the way of life. Very moving.

“False God” begins with a sexy little saxophone riff. Shortly after, we get to hear that poetic line she teased on her Spotify playlist: “And I can’t talk to you when you’re like this...staring out the window like I’m not your favorite town - I’m New York City!” The message with this song gives me a “bigger picture” sense. Even though she is making references to heaven and hell within interactions with her lover, I can also view the “times like this” that “they warned us about” as the times we are living in now: terrifying and unclear with a leader who professes division and tearing down much more than love and building up.

“You Need To Calm Down” is by far the single that I listened to the most before the album dropped. As a queer woman who “passes” as a “straight” cis woman and who took a very long time to admit to herself and others the truth, this song greatly boosted my confidence in Taylor as she opens up about where she stands, loudly and proudly. And that beat is so VIBRANT and fun.

At the start of “Afterglow”, we get yet ANOTHER use of “blue”. (There are lots that I didn’t mention, but it just is so prominent here.) This is a beautiful, lush, apology song in which Taylor unveils how deeply she wants her lover to stay despite her shortcomings and miscommunications. I felt this one hard and wish I could play it for a lot of my ex-best friends.

“ME!” (feat. Brendon Urie of Panic! At The Disco) is colorful, glorious, confident, cheerful, and is something that I could see being played at a pep rally. The message is clear: being yourself will ultimately win you every prize that is yours to win. Whether that be a lover or whatever your heart desires!! This is a truth I have come to realize recently. It’s a hard, treacherous lesson, and I feel that Taylor is showing that she’s finally finding out what it means to be truly herself with this tune.

“It’s Nice To Have A Friend” is the cutest song Taylor has ever written and recorded, by far. I think I hear steel pan in the background, adding to the layered sound of playfulness. That trumpet in the middle is so triumphant and an interesting addition to the dynamic! It feels very innocent and loving, maybe she wrote this with her cats in mind :)

“Daylight” is a gorgeous closing track. As this wraps up the album, it is quite clear that Taylor feels like she can breathe more deeply now that she has met, known, and loved her lover. It appears that everything has changed, and she can see much more clearly. This song made me think of “Clean” from “1989″, due to the notion that she is leaving the darkness and fogginess and entering a world where she feels fresh and sees everything clearly. Her lover is obviously a wonderful match for her spunky, stoked, sensitive, Sagittarius self. “You are what you love.” What a precious way to close my favorite new album.

Overall - Taylor’s “Lover” incorporates many familiar Taylor sounds while also introducing lots of new things we’ve never heard. From the lush synths in “Cruel Summer” to Cautious Clay’s influence in “London Boy”, it is clear that Taylor has crafted something that signifies a new era for her. As she turns 30 at the end of this year, she has seven studio albums to be extremely proud of. Thank you, Taylor, for being such a strong beam of light as I navigated high school hallways, college parties, and the ups and downs of falling in love.

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gilbvrtblythe · 6 years

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From Red to Green With Love Between | Anne and Gilbert

Description: Gilbert Blythe was born with a tuft of red hair sticking out from amidst his unruly dark curls... until the day it turned green. A Soulmate AU where everyone has a streak of hair that matches the color of their true love.

Author's Note: What originally was supposed to be 1500 words and 4 pages turned into this almost 8000 word 16 page monstrosity. One like is one prayer for my sanity.

Word Count: 7761

Fanfiction Masterlist | Archive of Our Own

Gilbert Blythe was born with a tuft of red hair sticking out from amidst his unruly dark curls.

He tried not to hate it, really he did. It signified something that everyone, including him, longed for more than anything else. Something that would bring ethereal happiness and love along with it.

But honestly did his soulmate have to have such an attention grabbing color of hair. And why did it have to be right by his face near his temple? A place where literally everyone could see it?

Why couldn’t it be somewhere else more discreet? He really didn’t like the fact that anyone, literally anyone, even strangers, could look at him and know what color hair his soulmate had just by walking past him on the street. It seemed like too private a detail for everyone to know.

It’s not that he hated the color, Gilbert adored it. He’d spent hours over the years twirling it between his fingers to study it in a mirror, memorizing every different colored strand that went into creating such a vibrant color.

All the dark auburns, strawberry blondes, and bright orange hues came to together to make something that rivaled the colors exploding over the horizon as the sun set each night.

The great thing that came with his soulmate having such a unique colored hair was that it narrowed the search down quite a bit. Unlike his soulmate, who unfortunately had a common plain black streak running amongst their hair, Gilbert had a streak of color that (according to the various textbooks he’d read) only occurred naturally within 4% of Earth’s population.

That along with the fact that he’d so meticulously studied the color his whole life made him sure that when he finally met his soulmate, when he finally laid eyes on the person he was destined to be with, he’d recognize them immediately and they could begin their life together.

If only it had been that simple.

When Gilbert came back from his trip to Alberta with his very ill father, the last thing on his mind was the person who adorned the hair sprouting from that odd spot on his scalp.

There were too many other things he had to think about regarding his future. So many in fact, that he walked almost all the way to school the following day in a trance just trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts tumbling around his mind.

What broke him out of his reverie was Billy’s taunting voice echoing through the crisp fall air of Avonlea. That along with the sound of his incessant and annoying barking peaked Gilbert’s interest.

He was able to faintly make out Billy’s figure in the near distance through the thickness of the forest. Gilbert approached apprehensively, not sure what to expect.

Billy Andrews turned around at the sound of his footsteps, crunching the dry leaves and dead branches that littered the path leading to school.

“How’s it going?” Gilbert asked, narrowing his eyes at the boy.

Billy averted his gaze and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Hey Gilbert,” he mumbled in quiet response. It was silent for a moment, the only sound to be heard were the faint chirps of birds from the trees overhead.

“Yea it’s uh good to be back,” Gilbert said, though his attention was no longer on that of Billy Andrews.

His eyes went past him and landed a girl, a cute girl, one that wasn’t much younger than he was, and one he didn’t recognize.

One with red hair. One with red hair that seemed almost identical to the streak he adorned. One, that with closer examination and a startling realization, he noticed had a black chunk of hair twisting in and out of her left braid.

“Yea um,” Billy muttered, sounding really uncomfortable, “welcome back.”

Gilbert snapped his gaze away from the girl. He flashed Billy a thin lipped smile, not even bothering to make it seem convincing. “Yea, yea it’s good to see you buddy.” They shook hands, he grasping Billy’s harder than needed.

“So you guys playing a game or something. Right?” he asked, knowing very well that wasn’t what was happening, and Billy knew it too. This wasn’t the first time he’d caught Billy bullying an innocent. “Seems like fun but uh we should probably get to school now eh? Hate to be tardy, Mr. Philips sure gets a dander up about that.”

“Yea uh I was just about to get going,” Billy said. He began to walk backwards, away from him and the girl he had been bullying. “See you there.” And with that he stumbled off.

Gilbert watched his retreating figure for a split second before turning his attention back to redheaded new girl. He gave her a brief once over, trying to figure out what to say while calming his ever increasing heartbeat.

“You alright Miss?” he asked, not able to take his eyes off her hair. It drew him in like a moth to a flame. A flame that despite his best efforts, Gilbert couldn’t look away from.

It had to be her. She had to be his soulmate.

Unfortunately enough for Gilbert however, the girl he believed might be his soulmate wasn’t nearly as entranced with him as he was with her.

She met his eyes for a brief moment, long enough for him to see that they were a brilliant blue. If anything else, the contrast made her hair seem even brighter a red.

She opened her mouth as if she were to speak, but instead she dropped down to the ground on her knees and began to pick up all of her things which were scattered around her feet.

“School,” she muttered, picking up her basket of lunch.

The girl stood up and brushed past Gilbert, not once taking a look at him. “You’re welcome,” he said, right as she passed him.

Gilbert wanted to raise an eyebrow at her behavior, but it would’ve been pointless because no one was around to see it. “Need anything else?” he called out after her as she retreated further down the path to school. “Any dragons around here need slaying?”

“No!” she yelled back in response. “Thank you!”

He stopped in his tracks, scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion. “Hey!” he said loudly so she could hear him over the growing distance between them. “Who are you?” Gilbert held his breath while his heart skipped a beat, waiting for a response.

When it became clear she wasn’t going to stop and chat, he did the only thing that came to mind. He chased after her. “Miss! What’s your name?”

She still wouldn’t answer him, but Gilbert wasn’t one to give up easily, especially when it came to matters of importance. And this, this was important. For all he knew, the girl he was chasing after might be the one fate decided he was destined to be with.

And he couldn’t let an opportunity like that slip away.

“What?” he said with a light chuckle as he and the girl walked up the steps of the school house. “You can’t tell me your name?” Gilbert jogged a few steps ahead and opened the door, holding it open like the gentlemen he was raised to be and let her go in first.

The sound of chatter exploded around him as he stepped into the school house after the girl, closing the door shut behind them and taking off his hat.

All he wanted was a name. Could she not even give him that? It wasn’t like he asking her to tell him her biggest secret or whole life story.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and speak again, the girl turned to face Gilbert. And for the first time, he got a good look at her. Her eyes, her freckles, the shape of her upturned nose, and the stray red hairs that escaped her braids and fell into her face messily.

And most importantly, she got a good look at him. Her pink lips parted slightly as her eyes took his face in, and her pupils widened as they fell upon his hair.

Gilbert’s breath hitched in his throat. He could hear the beat of his heart in his ears as it hammered against his ribcage.

She met his gaze once more, looking a little apprehensive. A moment passed. They merely stared at each other, not saying a word.

She gave him a small smile. “I’m Anne.”

Gilbert smiled back and looked down at his feet, then up at her again. “I’m Gil-“

But before he could properly introduce himself, he was whisked away by a group of boys that unlike Anne, couldn’t look more excited to see him.

By the next afternoon, Gilbert was becoming more and more confused by the minute. He didn’t imagine it would be this hard to get his soulmate to talk to him. Or at least, a person who he thought was his soulmate.

He tried to talk to Anne, he even offered her an apple from the orchard, but all she did was ignore him, and Gilbert didn’t know why.

From all the stories he’d inadvertently heard over the years, meeting your soulmate was always described as some sort of fairytale love at first sight experience. Sparks were supposed to fly as your eyes met each other’s odd streak of hair for the first time while hearts stopped beating at the meeting of eyes.

It was supposed to be, well, simple. And with Anne, it just wasn’t.

Maybe they weren’t soulmates after-all.

Sure Anne had a black streak running through her braid and fiery red hair that looked almost like his own odd streak, but there were a lot of people on Earth with black hair. And Anne might just be another person apart of the 4% of the population who has naturally red hair.

Maybe Gilbert was looking too hard. Maybe he was trying to force something that just wasn’t there. Maybe Anne coming to Avonlea of all the places in the world wasn’t fate. Maybe their meeting wasn’t fate either.

Maybe it was all just one huge coincidence.

But he could’ve sworn there was something there. Something almost tangible between them. An electric charge that intensified the air between them anytime their eyes met. A pull that made it almost impossible for Gilbert to be in the near vicinity of Anne without gazing at her in wonderment.

She was something alright, and it only took knowing her for a few hours to realize that. So he was gonna give it one more shot. And if things didn’t fall into place, if fate decided they weren’t meant to be, he’d move on, and keep searching in every crowd for a girl with gorgeous red hair.

Just like Anne Shirley’s.

In retrospect, the plan Gilbert came up with was literal shit. You’d think someone as smart as him would be able to come up with something better, but sadly it seems as though that intellect only applied to academic endeavors. Not girls. Not by a longshot.

The class room was dead silent as everyone focused on solving their math sums. The sound of chalk scraping against slate filled the air along with the occasional sniffle. No one spoke, not even Mr. Phillips.

Gilbert finished his math work early, and with nothing else to occupy his attention, he looked to Anne. She was focused on her work still, her eyes not straying from the slate once.

As always, his gaze fell upon that streak of black hair that twisted through her left braid. It mocked him silently, much like he and the other students did to Mr. Phillips behind his back.

He began to twirl his streak of red hair absentmindedly between his fingers, getting lost in thought. It was an odd habit he’d picked up over the years, and one he didn’t think would stop anytime soon.

Gilbert sat up straight in his chair with a newfound purpose. He was going to get Anne to talk to him, if it was the last thing he ever did.

He took a quick glance around the room, picked up a decent sized piece of chalk, bit his bottom lip in concentration, honed in on Anne’s shoulder, and tossed it. He missed by a mere inch, but it did its job. It got her attention.

Anne stopped writing on her slate and stared at it intensely. She gripped her own piece of chalk harder, not bothering to look up.

A few others stopped what they were doing and looked up to see what was going on, but Gilbert didn’t care. He threw another piece. And this time it bounced off her shoulder.

Anne sat up straight this time, dropping her piece of chalk on the desk. She clenched her jaw and balled her hands into fists. Still, she didn’t look at him or utter one word.

A lot more people were watching now, almost everyone except Mr. Phillips. Anne was going to have to talk to him eventually if she wanted him to stop.

Gilbert glanced at the apple by the corner of his desk. He picked it up. Looking up to see if Mr. Phillips was still turned towards the board, he got up out of his seat and crouched down next to Anne.

He watched her face carefully not having ever been this close to her before, heart once again racing while his cheeks tingled.

He put the apple on the corner of her desk. “Oops,” he whispered, not looking away from her.

Anne still chose ignore his presence, and Gilbert was getting desperate. He just had to know once and for all if they were soulmates.

So he started to think of things he could do that would drive her to a point where she just had to talk to him. And it didn’t take long for him to come up with something.

Growing up, he vaguely remembered people teasing him about the one tuft of red hair he had sprouting from his head. They’d tug on it harshly and annoyingly call him Carrots as a way to get a rise out of him.

If it annoyed Gilbert, someone with only one small piece of bright red hair, there’s no way it wouldn’t annoy Anne, someone with a full head of it.

Well, he thought to himself, desperate times call for desperate measures.

So Gilbert took a look at Anne, the girl he believed that he was destined to be with, grabbed the end of her braid, and pulled it. “Carrots,” he said, in an attempt to get her attention.

And boy did it work. He definitely got her attention.

“I’m not talking to you!” Anne yelled in anger, standing up out of her seat. He stood up as well in surprise while she wacked him across the cheek with her slate.

The room let out one collective gasp. Well, he can’t say he didn’t deserve it.

Rubbing his cheek with a slight wince, he looked down at Anne who stood as still as a statue. She looked up at him with parted lips and widened eyes, her cheeks blossoming with color.

He leaned in closer, curling one end of his lips upward. “You just did.”

Anne looked at him horrified, and he looked at her with regret as Mr. Phillips called her up to the front of the room while the kids around him laughed.

The look on her face broke his heart to pieces. “It’s my fault sir,” he rushed out, standing up out of his seat. “I teased her.”

He was shocked with Mr. Philips’s lack of reprise, though really he shouldn’t have been. Everyone, even Billy Andrews, could admit that he treated girls unfairly.

What surprised Gilbert the most though, what made him feel as though he were the worst person ever to exist in the history of human kind, was the look Anne gave him as she passed him on her way out of the classroom.

Her face was void of almost all emotion except for her eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes, the ones that had a permanent twinkle to them, met his with a glint of pure unadulterated fury. They darkened a shade almost instantaneously, hatred radiated off her in waves.

If looked could kill, Gilbert would’ve been 6 feet under.

As Anne’s figure disappeared through the doorway of the school house, a heavy weight settled over Gilbert’s heart. He stared down at his desk dejectedly, once again twirling his piece of red hair between his fingers.

“Anne Shirley- Cuthbert is not your soulmate,” Gilbert mumbled, trying to convince himself of the fact more than anyone else. “Hell,” he sat back in his chair and watched as Mr. Phillip’s continued the lesson, exhaling a deep breathe, “She isn’t even your friend.”

Gilbert never for a moment even considered the possibility that Anne could be his soulmate after that day until he ran into her a few weeks later after his father died in Charlottetown.

As he passed by the window of a pawn shop, his attention was snared by a head of gorgeous red hair. Gilbert stopped in his tracks, heart beating out his chest, and peered into the window more closely.

An odd feeling overcame him when he realized it was Anne. He should’ve known, those braids were unmistakably hers.

He watched her talk to the shop’s owner for a while with exaggerated hand gestures and facial expressions. He knew her well enough to know that she telling some story, and by the look on the shop owner’s face, he seemed to be buying into it.

With an apprehensive expression, he turned around and walked over to the cash register. Anne smiled wildly did a quick dance of celebration behind his back. Gilbert suppressed a laugh at the sight, a light smile overcoming his lips.

As she took the money with a face of triumph and began to walk towards the exit, Gilbert knew that it was time he go. But his legs stayed still against his better judgement, and as Anne exited to store, the bell above it ringing sharply, their eyes met.

Her lips parted in surprise. Anne almost looked… happy to see him.

“Gilbert,” she breathed out at the same time he said, “Anne.”

“Gilbert,” she repeated at the same time he said, “Hello.”

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, neither spoke. Gilbert wanted to say something, anything, but his mouth and brain weren’t able to coordinate properly. His attention was focused on keeping his gaze away from the strand of black hair that plagued his dreams.

Anne was the one to break the silence, letting out a shaky breath. “I- I think I need to sit down.”

Gilbert nodded his head and gave her small smile. “Sure.” He gently placed a gloved hand on the crook of her elbow, leading her away from the pawn shop.

They stumbled across a small café and decided to go sit inside. Not for coffee, but because it was mostly empty and a way to get out of the biting cold weather.

They sat across from each other, mugs of hot tea in their hands and a plate of shortbread in between them. From anyone looking inside, it might’ve looked like they were on a date.

But we’re not, Gilbert kept telling himself, we’re not on a date. Anne isn’t your soulmate, she doesn’t like you, and she might just now be able to start tolerating you.

He repeated that mantra in his head over and over like a broken record every time she looked up at him from beneath her lashes, every time a ray of sunlight hit her hair just right illuminating the multicolored strands that he swore looked exactly like the ones sprouting from his head in that one odd spot near his temple.

Gilbert didn’t realize just how much he missed the cadence of her voice until she started telling him about the troubles at Green Gables. He missed how eloquently words flew from her mouth like music, how she used extensive vocabulary to describe things very plain. He missed her.

“So you like working on the docks?” she asked, when the conversation had steered towards what he’d been up too.

“It’s a means to an end,” he replied, looking up from his hands to her freckled face. “I hope to get head on a steamer soon.”

Anne nodded her head, looking shy all of a sudden. “May I ask, what about your farm?”

“I don’t have to decide right now. I wanna see some of the world first.” Gilbert gestured vaguely to the side. “If I come back to Avonlea, I want it to be my choice, not-not obligation.” He paused. “It’s what my dad would’ve wanted.”

“I owe you an apology,” Anne said out of the blue, surprising Gilbert.

If anything, he owed her one. “No you don’t,” he said shaking his head.

“Yes I do,” she insisted.

“No I should apologize to you.”

“No you shouldn’t.”

“I was rude.”

“But it was my fault.”

Gilbert shook his head amused. He couldn’t help the soft smile that overcame his lips. “Can we please, not argue for once?”

“Can you please stop contradicting me?” Anne asked firmly.

He listened to her heartfelt apology, an empty feeling forming in the pit of his gut at the mention of his father. Gilbert hadn’t realized until that moment just how important Matthew Cuthbert had become to Anne. Sometimes he forgot that she was an orphan, and that the Cuthbert’s were the only family she ever really had.

They left the café eventually. As much as Gilbert wanted to sit and talk to Anne until the sun was down and his throat was scratchy, he did have a job, and it was one he couldn’t afford to lose.

He took his time to redress with all his winter gear, buttoning his jacket slowly and adjusting his scarf longer than he needed too, savoring his time with her. He told himself it was became he didn’t want to return to the docks just yet, but who was he kidding, Gilbert couldn’t even convince himself of that.

“I’ve missed you,” Anne admitted, as they stepped outside into the cold Canadian winter.

Gilbert stopped putting his gloves on, his breath got caught in his throat though he tried to hide it. With his heart beating faster than normal (as it always seemed to do around Anne) he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot. “Yea?”

Anne put a gray knot hat over her head. “At school, there’s uh, no one to compete with,” she said.

He felt like an idiot for thinking that she meant anything else. Of course she doesn’t just miss you, do you not remember her deliberately ignoring you for weeks and hitting you over the head with her slate?

Still, he’d take it. “You wanna spell out a few words for old times’ sake?” he joked, electing a laugh out of her.

“How about…“Anne started, looking down at shoes. She paused for second, then looked up at Gilbert through her dark red, almost brown, eyelashes. “Truce?”

Anne stuck a gloved hand out hesitantly, her lips curved upwards into a soft smile. Gilbert laughed and grabbed her hand firmly, shaking it gently. Despite the two layers of fabric that lie between their hands, Gilbert could feel a faint heat radiating off of Anne’s small one.

“T-R-U-C-E,” he spelled slowly, letting go of her hand, “Moody would’ve gotten that wrong.”

Anne laughed again, making him smile wider. “He would’ve,” she agreed.

When Gilbert picked up the rest of his stuff the leave begrudgingly, another boy who’s he’d learn later was Jerry, the Cuthbert’s farm hand, showed up with a scrape on his face and a black eye. Apparently he’s been robbed after selling the Cuthbert’s mare.

“Can I help with anything?” Gilbert asked. He looked between Jerry and Anne as she stood up in front of him. “Anything I can do?”

Their eyes met and his heart skipped a beat. “Just… take care of yourself,” Anne said, then let out a deep breath. “Come home someday.”

He thought back to the last time he’d ever looked into her clear blue eyes for this long. They had been filled with fury and hatred at then, a look he really hoped he’d never have to see again. They looked different now. Lighter, hopeful, not so filled with a burning desire to see Gilbert 6 feet underground.

“Yea.” Gilbert nodded his head, a non-binding agreement. He had no clue if he’d ever come back, or where he’d end up. “Hope everything works out.”

“For you too.”

That magnetic pull was back, the one he’d experienced the first time they met. The one he pretended wasn’t there ever since she hit him over the head with her slate and vowed to despise him for ever and ever.

Her blue eyes drifted upwards, focusing on a spot near his temple where his hair met skin. The spot where that tuft of fiery red hair spat out from amidst his dark curls.

Until then, he’d never really thought about what Anne believed him having a streak of hair that matched hers meant. Did she ever think about the possibility that they were meant to be? Or did she not like him so much that it never once crossed her mind?

Anne’s pink lips parted slightly, her eyebrows scrunching together in thought. Gilbert could hear his heart beat in his ears as he let his eyes dart down to her left braid, the one with black weaved into it.

“Wait…” Jerry looked between them. “Are you two s-“

“No,” he and Anne both said quickly, though Gilbert’s heart, soul, brain, and gut instincts all screamed YES.

Jerry looked at the both of them amused and apprehensive, not really believing it himself. Gilbert muttered a quick goodbye and turned around to leave when Anne called out his name. He turned back around and their eyes met one last time, his skin tingled.

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, glanced up quickly at Gilbert’s red streak of hair and then at his face once more. “I hope you meet her someday,” Anne said finally. “Someday soon. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet her while you’re on your travels.”

He nodded in agreement, forcing himself to give her a smile though his heart was far from into it. “Yea… I hope so too.”

If Gilbert had known that very moment that he wouldn’t see Anne again for almost a year, the conversation might’ve gone differently. He wouldn’t have walked away briskly, fighting the urge to turn back around with every step.

Instead, he would have turned around. He would’ve walked up to her, and asked how she really felt. He would’ve told her that he wasn’t going to meet his soulmate in some far away land across the Atlantic. He would’ve told her that he believed he already met his soulmate… in the forest at the beginning of fall.

But alas, he didn’t know that next time he’d see Anne they’d both be aged a year. How could he have? Gilbert was a man of many talents, but that list didn’t include the ability to foresee the future.

So Gilbert walked towards the docks, not once looking back. In his mind, he kept replaying him and Anne’s last conversation together.

I hope you meet her someday. Someday soon, Anne had said.

The problem wasn’t that Gilbert had yet to meet his soulmate. The problem was that Gilbert thought he already had… in the forest at the beginning of fall.

And now, he was about to sail halfway around the world… thousands and thousands of miles away from her.

The first time Gilbert ever talked about his suspicions with Anne was the day he received a letter from her while docked in Trinidad.

He was laying on his back in bed, letting the sound of waves crashing against the hull and the gentle rocking of the ship lull him to sleep. There was still light chattering going on around him while the mail was being passed out.

The last thing Gilbert expected was for his name to be called. “Gilbert Blythe,” a man said from the front of the floor where the crew slept.

He opened one eye and sat up confused. “Pardon?”

The man didn’t even bothering speaking again. He simply walked over to Gilbert and dumped an off white, almost yellow, envelope on his lap.

Gilbert scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, flipping it over to read who it sent it. His lips parted in surprise. He blinked, his heart skipping a beat as he read over it again to make sure his eyes didn’t deceive him.

It was from Anne Shirley- Cuthbert.

“Who’s got you over there smiling like a moke?” Sebastian asked. He sat up in his own cot which was a few feet away from his.

Gilbert cleared his throat and spared Bash a short glance. “No one. It’s just a letter from back home.”

Bash chuckled and shook his head, pointing a finger accusingly at the young man. “Ah, I’ve been around long enough to know the look a boy gets when he’s gone with a lady Blythe. There’s no use kidding me about it boy.”

He gave Bash a halfhearted glare. “I’m not gone with a lady,” he responded using finger quotations. “It’s from a friend.” Bash raised any eyebrow. Gilbert let out a sigh of defeat, staring at his lap with a scrunched up nose. “It’s complicated,” he grumbled.

“I’ve got time,” Bash said, then gave Gilbert an expectant look.

Gilbert smiled softly, fiddling with the letter in his hands. “There’s this girl back in Avonlea…Anne. One time I called her Carrots, and she wacked me over the head.”

“I’ll give her right on that,” Bash added.

Gilbert nodded in agreement. “She has fiery red hair and a fiery temper.”

He paused, looking out of the nearby window and out into the vast blue ocean. It reminded him of her eyes, how far away he was from Anne, how far away he was from home. “I wonder if I’ll ever see her again,” he said quietly.

Gilbert could feel Bash’s gaze burning a hole into the side of his head. He turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

“You said she had fiery red hair. Does it look like…“ he stopped talking and gestured to Gilbert’s head.

The boy reached a hand up. He ran his fingers along the strands of red that had begun to gradually darken into a more auburn then orange. “Yea,” Gilbert mumbled, pursing his lips. “It’s uncanny really.”

“And she has a streak of black?” Gilbert nodded. Bash looked at him with both surprise and curiosity. “Do you think she’s your...”

“Soulmate?” he finished for him.

The older generations had some sort of weird thing about saying the word. It was something they were taught from a young age not to talk about freely. Gilbert however, wasn’t raised that way. He had no problem saying the word. He’d say it loud and proud given the opportunity.

“I did for a while, after we first met. It was… all I could think about really. But Anne, I don’t know she didn’t really seem to feel the way I did,” Gilbert said, then corrected himself. “The way I do.”

He smacked the envelope against his hand repeatedly. “It’s just, you know I could’ve sworn there was something there, something electric and magnetic. I can never seem to take my eyes off her and, I never felt better than those few times I made her laugh and smile. That stupid left braid of hers with the stupid black streak of hair plagues my mind, I can’t even escape it with sleep. It shows up there too,” he finished grumbling.

Bash snorted and shook his with head with amusement. “And you said you weren’t gone with a lady. What do you call what you feel for this Anne?”

“Inconvenient.”

A bark of laughter. “Ah young love, so pure and sweet.”

“It’s not young love if the other person doesn’t reciprocate feelings Bash,” Gilbert said, giving his friend a pointed look. “Right now it’s only young pain.”

Another spiel of laughter. “You’re too funny Blythe. And how do you that this Anne isn’t gone with you too? She’s had too at least suspect the possibility of you two being,” he gestured vaguely to the side, “after seeing your coordinating colors.”

Gilbert let out a dry laugh and laid backwards onto his cot. He folded his hands across his chest, the letter pressed into his coal stained shirt. “You want to know what the last thing she said to me was. The last thing I heard her say before I left to get on this ship.”

When no verbal objections, he continued. “I was walking away to go to the docks when she called my name out. I turned around expecting her to say- well anything but what she actually said.” He swallowed. “Anne looks me in the eye and goes, I hope you find her someday, someday soon.”

“Ouch.”

“Yea…ouch,” Gilbert agreed. “Felt like someone was mowing over my heart with a field plow.” The cot squeaked as he shifted to a more comfortable position. “So, I just gave up on the idea after that, the idea of Anne and I being soulmates. She obviously doesn’t think we are, and there’s no use flogging a dead horse.”

“But you still think you are?” Bash asked slowly.

“Yes…no…I don’t know. I said it’s complicated Bash,” he said, starting to get frustrated just thinking about it. “I used to think we were, but now I’m not so sure.”

“Why? Because she might not feel the same way right now?” Bash scoffed. “News flash, you’re both kids still, feelings can change with time.”

“I know that, it’s just,” Gilbert trailed off, letting out a deep sigh. “Every story I’ve heard about people finding their soulmate makes the whole thing sound so… simple. They meet, and they just know. It’s not like that with Anne. It was, for the half hour I knew her, but now it’s so complicated. Too complicated. So complicated that I’m beginning to think she’s right and we aren’t meant to be because if we were, it would have to be easier than it is right now.”

Bash’s cot creaked as he shifted to get a better look at Gilbert. “A word of advice Blythe, love isn’t simple. It never is. The stories you hear only have the parts in them people want to tell.”

“That’s not advice Sebastian, just a general statement.”

“Fine, you want to know what I would do?” Bash asked, not waiting for an answer. “I wouldn’t give up on her just yet. If Anne really is your soulmate, I think the little bit of extra work you have to put in to be with her will be well worth your while.”

Gilbert knew he meant business the second the word soulmate left Bash’s lips. People over the age of 20 never threw the word around lightly.

It was that night, after he finally gathered up enough nerve to read over the letter, with Bash’s wise words echoing around his head like that of a damp cave, that Gilbert finally decided it was time to return home to Avonlea.

To return home to Anne.

The day Gilbert returned to Avonlea was the day his sunset auburn streak of hair turned green.

When the carriage dropped him and Bash off at his farm that afternoon, everything was normal. His house was fine, the barn was in good shape, the fields were a little overgrown with weeds, but nothing he couldn’t fix with a little work.

Not even 3 hours later, when Gilbert went into kitchen to eat what Bash had cooked for supper did things take a turn.

Sebastian was already eating when he sat down at the table. His friend glanced up at him mid bite as Gilbert pulled out a chair to sit in. He coughed and dropped his fork with a loud clank reiterating around the room.

“Good lord Blythe!” Bash sputtered out between coughs, choking on his food. “What have you done to your hair?”

Gilbert scrunched his eyebrows together, very confused. “What?”

Sebastian pointed towards a mirror that hung on the wall next to the sink, still trying to gain his composure. The boy got up hesitantly and walked over to it, not knowing what to expect.

He let out a strangled gasp at the sight before him. “Why is it green?” Gilbert yelped in surprise.

The leaned in closer to the mirror, trying to get a better look. The roots were still red for about an inch while the rest of it was an odd pastel sea green color. He took the once beautiful red strands between his fingers and groaned loudly.

Sebastian, having finally gotten his composure together, started laughing manically. “It’s not funny!” Gilbert whined. “My first day back at school in a year and I have green hair? What kind of luck is that?”

Bash stopped laughing and instead settled for a wide teeth barring grin. “How did you not notice?”

Gilbert went back over to the dinner table and sat down with a huff. “I’ve been unpacking all day and getting ready for school tomorrow. Sorry I haven’t the time to look in a mirror.”

Taking a bite of food, Bash studied Gilbert’s new color further. “The real question we need to be asking is why in the good name of the lord would someone willingly dye their hair that color.” He took another bite of food. “She must be a wild one.”

“Believe me,” Gilbert grumbled between harsh chews. “I’ll definitely be bringing this up when we meet.”

Bash chewed slowly and looked at him questioningly. “So you don’t think it’s Anne?”

“It just, doesn’t make any sense.” Gilbert pushed some food around his plate with the fork he was given, pursing his lips in thought.

“Though I do agree with you, care to elaborate some?”

He put his fork down, sitting backwards into his chair, hands resting on his lap. “I know that Anne isn’t fond of her red hair because she thinks it isn’t pretty and people tease her about it-“

“People like you?” Bash interrupted.

“Oh shut up that was one time.” Gilbert gave him a half-hearted glare. “Anyway,” he continued, “I can’t think of a good reason for her to want to dye her hair green. She’s vexed enough about it as it is, and dying it green is far from a solution.”

Gilbert wasn’t sure how he felt about what he was saying, though he believed it all to be true. If he turned out to be correct, that would mean Anne wasn’t his soulmate after-all. That would mean he’d spent months secretly pining over a girl he wasn’t supposed to be with.

It scared him a little bit, to think about what it meant. What he felt for Anne was indescribable, no arrangement of words in the English language could possibly capture it spot on.

But if Anne wasn’t his soulmate, then how would he feel for the real thing? He thought no one could ever feel more strongly about a person then he did for Anne. At times it seemed to consume him.

“I guess you’ll find out tomorrow then eh?” Bash said, shaking Gilbert from his reverie.

“Yea, I guess so,” he mumbled, it went quiet for a moment. Gilbert then shook his head with a laugh all of a sudden and looked at Bash. “Did you just say eh?”

Bash stopped chewing and swallowed harshly. “Oh my good lord I did.”

Gilbert raised his glass for a toast, smiling broadly. “Welcome to Canada Bash.”

He raised a glass to meet his with a clink. “No…Welcome home.”

Gilbert woke up the next morning for school pleasantly surprised when he saw that the green streak of hair had returned to the red color he had become accustomed to his entire life.

He was both nervous and excited to return to school, so nervous and excited that he couldn’t eat breakfast. Bash forced an apple into his hand before he left the house though, which Gilbert was thankful for 5 minutes later when his stomach growled as he walked to school.

The leaves crunched under his feet as he padded the familiar trail through the forest, leading him to the school house. He passed the spot where he first met Anne all those months ago, not quite believing how much his life had changed since then.

He dumped the apple core in a bare spot of soil to decompose before he walked up the steps to school. Gilbert took a deep breath, and opened the door with as much confidence as he could possibly muster.

Charlie saw him first, doing a double take before yelling. “Gilbert!” A gasp went around a room as everyone turned towards the door and saw him.

He smiled, managing to put his stuff away and hang up his winter clothes before the crowd of boys bombarded him. They corralled him over to his desk like a dog does to a herd of sheep.

He talked to them vaguely of his travels while they caught him up on all the drama that had been going on in Avonlea since he left. Apparently, there was no gold after-all.

If Gilbert had come back to Avonlea expecting to find it, he’d probably be disappointed. But that wasn’t why he came back, and he didn’t tell the boys that. If he did, he’d have to explain the real reason, and Gilbert didn’t feel like telling that story.

The faint sound of the school door creaking open registered in Gilbert’s mind passively. He thought nothing of it. That is, until a quick moment later, everyone went quiet.

And there was only one person in all of Avonlea who could make that kind of entrance into a room.

Gilbert’s heart rate steadily increased as he moved through the crowd of boys into the walkway between the two columns of desks. The whispers around him filled his ears, though they weren’t able to drown out the sound of his own hearts’ beating.

“Anne?” he called out, stepping into her view.

Her eyes widened at the sight of him, a short gasp of surprise escaped her lips. “You’re back,” Anne breathed out, not looking away from him.

“Yes,” Gilbert replied. He could no longer hold back a smile. “Hi.”

Anne got kind of a panicked look on her face. “There’s no gold!” she blurted out. Is that why everyone thought he came back?

He gave an odd look at her strange behavior. “I-I know, I-I heard.”

Gilbert really looked at her for a moment, and felt stupid for not noticing such a drastic change before. His eyes had been too focused on her face, her eyes, and her presence for him to see that Anne’s hair was almost completely gone.

There was a little over an inch of hair in length that sprouted all across her head. He was finally able to get a good look at where the black streak originated from, it had always been hidden by braids before then. It stuck out right above her ear, in spot where it seemed to appear out of nowhere when it was weaved into her left braid.

Anne still looked cute to Gilbert. If it were possible, her eyes seemed even brighter than they did before. Her freckles looked darker and her lips more pink.

He couldn’t help but wonder why she chose to cut all her hair off though. He knew Anne didn’t like her red hair that much, but she couldn’t have hated it that much.

And that’s when it hit him.

“That’s not why I’m here,” Gilbert finally said, not able to take his eyes off her once again. This time though, for a different reason.

His heart pounded so hard against his chest that he was sure everyone around him could hear it. “Did you-“Gilbert paused, looking at her hair once more. “Did you dye your hair green?”

Anne let out a horrified gasp and covered her mouth with one of her dainty little hands. “How did you know that?” she yelped in surprise.

Her reaction answered his question. While everyone around them burst into a fit of snickers at the thought of Anne with green hair, Gilbert’s vision tunneled.

His hand slowly went up to touch his tuft of red hair, the room went silent.

Anne’s eyes followed his movement, her bottom lip quivering as the realization hit her. “Oh,” she breathed out shakily, staring at the piece of hair.

“No way,” Diana mumbled in disbelief from somewhere next to him.

The new boy, who he’d later learn was Cole, let out a short laugh. “Well I’ll be…”

Gilbert dropped his hand back to his side, eyes softening as Anne’s gaze shifted to meet his. He took a small step closer, gaging her reaction.

“It’s really good to see you,” he said, breaking the silence between them.

She did nothing but stare. She didn’t blink. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t speak. Until she took a small step forward. Then another, and another, and another as she rushed forward to close the remaining distance between them, pulling Gilbert into a bone crushing hug.

He let out an oomph as Anne latched her arms around him, pressing her face firmly against his chest. There was no doubt in his mind that she was able to hear his crazy rapid heartbeat now.

It took a second to register with Gilbert, but when it did… when it finally hit him that Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was the girl he was gonna spend the rest of his life with, the one who was going to being with her ethereal love and happiness, he hugged her back with all he had in him.

Anne let out a content sigh, a slow clap from Diana turned into a full on round of applause. Gilbert slid a hand up her back and shoulder blades, coming to a stop to cradle the back of her head against his chest.

“Thank god it’s you.”

#anne with an e #awae #anne of green gables #aogg #anne shirley #gilbert blythe #shirbert #fanfiction #off #soulmate au #shirbert fanfiction #shirbert soulmate au

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pitiflame-archived · 6 years

Note

“Wed Me”

Leave a “Wed Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about our characters under the subject of wedlock

I recommend listening to this or this to fit the mood.

This day had been one the two had been planning since their teenage years. Everything about their wedding day had been planned out down to every last detail. The location, who would attend, the decorations they wanted, even so much as down to the color scheme of it all. Everything was planned, everything was perfect. Centuries upon centuries of work and ideas had been put into this moment and now that it was here, the two could finally let out a much needed sigh of relief at this new chapter in their lives that they would write together.

Their wedding would be a rather small one, neither Eryis nor Rommath particularly cared for some grand exaggerated gala that so many nobles were revered for. That was never their style anyways. Even back in their youth, when he was merely a lowborn commoner and she a higher class mage trying to find her way. They never had the eye catching flair of nobility nor had they ever craved it. Right now, how things were, it was perfect. They had each other, alive and well, and everything was right with the world.

The event had taken place near one of their meeting spots when they were wily teens, near a secluded small park area between the two gates of the city. A great oak tree cast a cool shadow over the entire area, a multitude of colorful flowers added vibrant colors to the soft blues and greens of the decorations that had been set up. Only those closest to them would be in attendance as well, wanting their wedding to be a private only event.

Their twin daughters, Sima and Feana, both wore matching light blue dresses, one having an elaborate lace scarf tied around her waist cinched together with a small cluster of pearls while the other had a bow tied around her. Both girls had glistening white tiaras to accent their outfits and had been given the duty of throwing the flower petals, each wearing wide grins, matching the garden that grew around them in a rainbow of colors, as their mother trailed behind them.

Even the family’s dogs had been allowed to attend the wedding, they were also important members of the family after all. Corgwell and Whiskey had both been made specially tailored light tan tuxedos. Rommath had laughed when he had found out that Eryis had trained the both of them to be the ring bearers as well once it came time to exchange the rings.

Eryis herself was stunning. Of course, Rommath had always thought that but now standing before him in her own blue dress. It hung off both shoulders as was her usual fashion choice, the sleeves billowing out near the elbows into a sheer leafy lace pattern. It framed her body perfectly, a short trail behind her in the same lace pattern as her sleeves. Her hair had been put up in an elaborate braid, held together with the veil that partially covered her face as she approached Rommath. The arrangement of flowers she carried consisted of a wide array of different shaped flowers, each of them either snow white, mint green, or sky blue.

As she walked up the isle, Rommath felt his chest swell with pride and affection watching his soon-to-be wife approach him with an equally excited, if not slightly teary eyed, gaze. He himself wore the same colors, a light blue suit with the cuffs and collar embroidered with the same leaf patterns she wore. He saw no reason to wear the mask he constantly hid behind, finding a slight amusement in the fact many in attendance would have never seen him without it otherwise. The only ‘normal’ thing about him was he still wore his hair back in a tight ponytail. As she finally reached him, he took her hands in his own with a reassuring squeeze.

Behind him, he rolled his eyes softly in amusement as he heard soft sniffling. Lor’themar, Halduron, and Aethas, three of who he would dare call his closer friends, despite the fact he constantly berated the trio on a daily basis, stood as his groomsmen. Lor’themar, not surprisingly, had been the one to serve as his best man. The three wore their own tan tuxes, each adding their own flair to the suits. Aethas had a red phoenix emblem of their peoples crest tailored onto one of the sleeves sides, Halduron with a golden arrow across one of his breasts, ever was the proud Farstrider he, and finally Lor’themar simply had a white rose pinned to his lapel.

Currently, Halduron and Aethas leaned heavily on each other, each pressing their own handkerchief to their noses and blew as they watched the newly weds. At that, Eryis hid a soft giggle behind a hand and Rommath sighed. Always the drama queens, those two. In contrast, at least Eryis’s own bridesmaids were holding themselves together more than his own groomsmen were, so at least not everyone was a snotty mess.

Her bridesmaids consisted of her sisters. Amarna, Faiyde, and Artemyis stood nearest to Eryis, dressed in their own far more simpler gowns of pastel greens. All three sisters wore white roses as well around one of their wrists, similar to the Regent Lord. Amarna and Artemyis both smiled, looking generally pleased for their sister and her new husband, though Faiyde’s remained unreadable. As Rommath made eye contact briefly with the rogue, she made a quick motion with her thumb over her throat at the Grand Magister. Another sigh.

As the priest began the ceremony, finally, the twos attention had snapped back to each other. Through the words spoken, through every small touch, every word spoken between them in those moments, they could almost physically feel their bond they shared growing closer and heavier, binding the two more than it had previously. Both Eryis and Rommath smiled fondly at each other as the warm feelings following this realization settled over them, a newfound love kindling between the already bright flames they shared.

“ I take you to be my partner for life, I promise above all else to live in truth with you And to communicate fully and fearlessly, I give you my hand and my heart As a sanctuary of warmth and peace And pledge my love, devotion, faith and honor As I join my life to yours. “

As they spoke their vows, both of their gazes had traveled briefly to the few seats that remained empty nearest the front rows. Three chairs had been reserved despite knowing those they were reserved for would not show. They had been for both of their parents, with the exception of Eryis’s father for obvious and clear reasons unspoken between the two, all of which had been killed during the scourge invasions so many years prior. It still felt like a dream without them but the harsh reality was they would not wake up from this the next day.

Each chair held a wreath and garland as well as a burning candle, lit with a controlled arcane fire so as to not catch the foliage around them aflame. Flower petals littered the three empty chairs around the other decorations laid for them. Both elves felt a pang of sadness and loss.

Their parents had always spoke about Eryis and Rommath’s wedding and it hurt them deeply to know none of them would get to witness their children’s spectacular day. Deep down, they wanted to at least believe whatever afterlife they currently resided in, they were looking down on the two. Eryis and Rom didn’t need much imagination to know how proud and happy they would have been should they be here now.

Both of them let out a sigh only heard by the other, soft gazes looking into the other in a mutual understanding. Once the priest had given the words to kiss the bride, Rommath didn’t hesitate to kiss her. It was deep and lasted a tad longer than it should have. When they parted, Eryis rested her chin on his shoulder as his arms went around her.

“I love you so much, moon of my life.” She whispered into his ear.

“And I love you most, my sun and stars.” He replied.

#ll flamestrike (IC)#( verse. Cause all of me loves all of you )#( ship. Eryis & Rommath)

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pilindiel · 6 years

Text

The Promise of the World Pt. 9 |AO3|

Pairing: Victuuri

Rating: T

Word Count: 4065

Excerpt:

The figure doesn't shift away even as Yuuri's shaking hands reach up to part the break in the plumage, glittering like glass in the waxing sunlight, and a name tumbles past Yuuri's lips.

Not that it was ever a secret who this is – Yuuri's nightmares have made sure this scenario was always in the forefront of his mind.

Now though, faced with the reality, faced with the truth, Yuuri is surprised he isn't nearly as terrified as he thought he would be.

The sun is just starting to peak over the horizon, making the inky black bleed into calming periwinkle, but Yuuri doesn't notice it. He doesn't feel the prickle of the morning chill on the wind or the brush of Makkachin's warmth against his leg as he moves, nor does he hear the clacking of the front door behind him as the magic in it gets sucked into empty oblivion.

No, Yuuri's attention is drawn to the hulking mass of silver feathers across the wreckage from him, breathing heavy and rasping.

Yuuri's expression hardens as he tries to ignore the stinging smell of blood when he approaches, but that’s not all. There's the stench of pestilence in the air like the burning flesh of a corpse and though Yuuri attempts to block the thoughts out, it's impossible to be rid of the heavy feeling in his stomach.

The figure doesn't shift away even as Yuuri's shaking hands reach up to part the break in the plumage, glittering like glass in the waxing sunlight, and a name tumbles past Yuuri's lips.

Not that it was ever a secret who this is – Yuuri's nightmares have made sure this scenario was always in the forefront of his mind.

Now though, faced with the reality, faced with the truth, Yuuri is surprised he isn't nearly as terrified as he thought he would be.

Victor's skin is pale and the shadows his feathers cast across his face make him look gaunt and hollow. Empty. It's a terrible contrast: Victor is supposed to be flushed and smiling and bright .

Yuuri's fingers tremble as they brush Victor's cheek, trying to breathe some warmth back into his skin, to bring some light back into the blue of his unseeing eyes, but it does nothing.

Yuuri isn't surprised by it.

“I'm sorry,” Yuuri whispers, forcing a smile, “I didn't mean to make you wait this long.” He leans up on his toes, a hand on Victor's frigid chest for balance, and the lips he presses to Victor's cheek are as timid as they are warm.

Victor doesn't move, his eyes unfocused and hazy, but Yuuri swears he feels a shudder beneath the press of his hand.

“I need you to take me to Christophe, if you can,” Yuuri murmurs.

Victor shifts, feathers molting and tumbling away as he does, and a large talloned leg emerges from the recesses of Victor's body. The huge claw clacks against the ground but the toes spread apart gently, and Yuuri can't stop the fondness in his chest from swelling.

Yuuri is reminded of stolen glances, of the shift in Victor's weight when he would try to hide his arm from Yuuri's intense gaze, and Yuuri's throat tightens.

Even now, a part of Victor is still so scared of frightening him.

Oh Victor, he wants to say, Don't you know I never could be?

Instead Yuuri shakes his head and steps onto the protruding leg, curling his fingers around downy plumage. Makkachin ambles up next to him and with a flutter of silver wings they take to the sky.

Wind whips at Yuuri's clothes – the cold morning air is biting and blows right through him, chilling him down to the bone. He wants to bury his face in Victor's side, wants to let the world fall away as he gathers his thoughts, but Yuuri forces himself to remain still. If he tries to take comfort now, the business of his mind will consume him. Even now the thoughts he'd like to avoid are popping up. They’re terrible thoughts, doubts that coil around his heart and pull until Yuuri is breathless and his grip tightens. Resolutely, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, eyes narrowed as they continue their flight. It feels both too long and too short – like the world isn't quite settled yet.

Yuuri is surveying the ground below them when early morning sunlight catches several long, polished planks of wood. It sits on two creaking, broken legs that screech with rusted metal and as they approach, Yuuri can't stop the dread and fear that starts to simmer in his stomach.

That's all that's left of the castle. Their home, their lives . It amounts to nothing more than broken machinery and scratched wood, the last remnants of Victor's freedom and Yuuri's growth and heaven help him, was that all it was ever supposed to amount –

No, Yuuri demands, swallowing down the anxiety that bubbles in his chest, No, there is more to life than that. He rubs his eyes furiously with the back of his arm, forcing the tears back down. There is more to us than this.

They land delicately on the platform, but as soon as Yuuri steps away, Victor falls to the ground like a sack of rocks. His feathers break away from him, as they catch the wind and disappear into the sky, and Yuuri is at his side in an instant. The panic flares, like it always does, and Yuuri's chest feels like it's stuffed with cotton as he kneels and shifts Victor's body.

He's cold. Victor isn't supposed to be cold.

Trembling, Yuuri brushes Victor's hair from his face and hopes his heart beat isn't as loud as it feels.

Yurio's voice rouses him back to reality. “He's dead?”

Yuuri shakes his head and surprises himself with how level his voice is. “No,” Yuuri breathes, turning to their companions. “Not yet.”

J.J. is huddled in the corner. Or rather, he's huddled in the farthest place away from them that he can be, his back to Yuuri and his shoulders hunched. His normally meticulously put together purple suit jacket is slipping off his shoulder and torn at the seam, Yuuri notices, and as he approaches he can still see the dark splotches of water on his clothes where Yuuri had splashed him.

Yuuri tries his best to be kind, to be understanding, but his throat is too tight to manage, too unwieldy, and J.J. flinches at the mere sound of his name.

“J.J. – ”

J.J. sniffs loudly, pathetically, and Yuuri is reminded just how young J.J. is when he puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, turning him around as tenderly as he can.

It opens the floodgates.

J.J. can't meet Yuuri's gaze but that doesn't mean Yuuri can't see the tears pricked in the corners of his eyes, his hands clutched tightly around a delicately pulsing blue fire.

“I didn't mean to!” J.J. hiccups, tears streaming down his soot-stained cheeks. Yuuri's chest tightens and he doesn't even hesitate to pull J.J. into his arms, holding the boy as emotion wrenches through him. “I just...I wanted Victor to notice me.”

“I know,” Yuuri whispers, running his fingers through J.J.'s wet hair, “I know.” J.J. shivers, curls into Yuuri's arms and cradles his treasure close to his chest and all Yuuri can do is hold J.J. as sobs wreck his small body. “It's okay,” Yuuri promises, running a hand up and down J.J.'s shoulders, “It's okay.”

It takes far too long for J.J.'s tears to subside, but when they do, Yuuri places a hand over the boy's and squeezes his fingers.

“Victor needs this back,” he explains as pale blue flames flicker in-between the cracks of J.J.'s fingers.

J.J.'s eyes never leave Yuuri's – such a dark contrast to Victor's but still just as vibrant – and he sniffles once more, wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve.

“I'm so sorry ,” he reiterates, chewing the inside of his lip.

Yuuri reaches out and lightly brushes the fringe away from J.J.'s face. “It's okay,” Yuuri placates as he holds out his hands, “I can fix it.”

He only hopes he sounds more convincing than he feels.

J.J. lowers what’s left of the sleepy, gently crackling fire demon into Yuuri's waiting palms.

It's the weight that surprises Yuuri the most; it's like a small bird, light and fragile, and Yuuri is convinced that any sudden movement will snuff him out. Still, Christophe is warm and fluttering in his hands. Yuuri whispers his name, hoping against hope that his solution to their problem is right.

He has no way to save Victor if it's not.

“Christophe?”

The fire swirls, crackling for a moment, and the demon's eyes blur into view. Still deep-set, still hazel, but fuzzy and unfocused. Yuuri's swallows the gasp that threatens to rise up his throat.

“Yuuri,” Christophe breathes and Yuuri's blood runs far too hot beneath the chill of his sweat, “I'm so tired.”

“Chris.” Yuuri swallows, closes his eyes and forces the words out. “If I give Victor back his heart, what will happen to you?”

The flames around Christophe's lips twitch into a smile; feeble, but with just a twinge of fondness. “It'll be fine if you do it,” he explains, light twinkling in his eyes, “After all, you dumped water on me and Victor and I both survived.”

Yuuri nods even though the fear coils around his lungs and tightens like a vice. “I better try, then,” he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. He kneels down,holds Christophe – no, Victor's heart – close to his chest and breathes slow and deep.

Ten counts in, seven counts out.

The wood is a hard, cold contrast as it cuts into his knees but it grounds him, and that's what Yuuri needs. He centers himself, uses the heart in his hands as a cornerstone and focuses on the warmth bleeding into his skin from the flames. It's like he can almost feel Victor's energy and strength and love pouring into every part of him. He can't help his smile.

“Please,” Yuuri begs to anyone listening, “Please help Christophe live. And please help Victor take back his heart.”

Heart pounding loudly in his ears, Yuuri lowers the flickering fire onto Victor's chest and turns his palms forward into the fabric, letting Christophe fall like water through his hands. Yuuri bites the inside of his cheek, but there's little resistance as Victor's heart and Christophe fade from reality into Victor's chest. The air becomes thick and warm like the impending signs of a rainstorm, but Yuuri can't focus on it. Magic sparks from beneath Yuuri's fingers – splashes of green and red and blue – and a dazzling light shoots out of Victor's body like a rocket, swirling around them dizzily before flying off into the sky.

Still Yuuri watches, and the world stills.

And then Victor takes a breath.

It's shuddering and shallow, but the rise and fall of his chest is enough to make Yuuri giddy with relief. Tears burn behind his eyes, threatening to overwhelm him, and Yurio's cries of elation almost send him over the edge.

His hands shake as they cup Victor's cheeks, as he feels the warmth flow back beneath his still pale skin, and he whispers out a quiet thank you to whatever god out there who's listening.

Then the planks they're sitting on start to list. Yuuri has barely enough time to brace Victor to his chest before the floor cracks and splinters and the ground rushes to meet them.

There's nothing Yuuri can do as the last feeble legs of their home tumbles down the cliff, metal creaking and snapping as it smacks against unforgiving slate. There are screams all around as they fall, the children are cowering on both sides of him as the polished floor beneath their feet groans with the weight and pressure. Yuuri is helpless, holding Victor's limp body in his arms as they skid across the uneven earth towards god knows where.

Yuuri can't breathe.

A streak of colour flashes forward – a splash of light blue, a smattering of white – and the scarecrow, Yuuri's scarecrow, Root , slams his pole defiantly into the dirt.

Yuuri cries out, but he has a feeling Root won't heed his warning.

Splinters of wood and rock and debris fly past them as Root slows their descent and dear God, Yuuri can see the flinders of Root's body chip away with each stone, can see the shreds of his pole ground by each scrape against the earth.

Something snaps, loud and sickening, and though the beams they're sitting on jolt from the force, their nosedive is halted and Yuuri scrambles to his feet.

The scarecrow lies motionless in two at the edge of their tattered floor and Yuuri slips on the uneven boards as he clambers to their hero's side. Yuuri hoists Root in his arms, careful not to jostle the already fractured pole. He's met with a tan, knobby face and a painted on grin. “Are you alright?” Yuuri asks, worry coating his throat, “We'll get you a new pole, okay?”

Root doesn't respond but Yuuri holds him close all the same, his hands slowly smoothing the lumps on the scarecrow's face. “You saved us, Root,” Yuuri marvels. Relief and gratitude crash through him like a wave and tears burn Yuuri's eyes as he pulls Root into a bone-crushing hug. A sob hiccups in his throat, as painful as it is comforting, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Root's cheek.

The result is instantaneous.

Wind, sudden and rapid with a myriad of purples, pinks, blues and yellows surround what remains of Root's body, swirling and twisting as it lifts Root out of Yuuri's arms. Yuuri catches snippets of him through the light – a flash of his sleeve, the top of his hat – but it's too fast to follow and Yuuri loses track of him in the warm, glowing spiral.

It settles just as quickly as it came.

In Root's place is a young man: tan skin, jet black hair, and dark gray eyes that exude an air of unbridled cheerfulness.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” the young man says, grin wide and honest as he bows. There are shades of the scarecrow still in him: the immaculate white of his blazer with that stunningly intricate blue trim, the navy shirt and matching trousers, but what strikes Yuuri most is the expression on the young man's face. The familiarity he felt before tugs more insistently at his heart. The memories surge and reform, flooding his lungs with a combination of excitement and extreme, utter embarrassment .

It was years ago now, but Yuuri still remembers fragments.

A warm spring afternoon. A parade Yuuri avoided. The smells of confections and street food. A young man, this young man, sauntering up to him as he glittered with gold embellishments on his deep red suit. A young man full of exuberance who insisted Yuuri show him around the city -

It's my first time in a place like this!

- who was wholly enamoured with the food and the culture of Yuuri's hometown -

Your shops are so strange and colourful!

- a young man who never left Yuuri's side and kept reiterating that the parade wasn't interesting and the prince was bored anyway ...

Yuuri hadn't made the connection before, but seeing the mirth in the dark gray of his irises and the delicately twisted silver circlet around the meticulous part in his hair, has Yuuri's face heating up in a mixture of surprise and absolute mortification.

Oh Yuuri, his mind chides unhelpfully, Only you could forget meeting a prince.

“P-Phichit?!”

“Yes!” Phichit responds emphatically, “I'm the prince who's been missing from the neighboring kingdom. Somehow I got that spell put on me – ”

“I know that spell!” Yurio pipes up, “A kiss from someone you love breaks it.”

“That's right!” Phichit replies amicably, getting down on his knees to speak at Yurio's level, “If it weren't for Yuuri, I'd be stuck as a scarecrow for my entire life!”

Victor shudders at Yuuri's side and it all fades into nothing – meaningless chatter that can't catch up with the frantic beating of Yuuri's heart.

“Ugh...” Victor groans, sounding like the ugly lovechild of sleep-deprivation and nausea, “What's going on?”

The hoarse scrape of those words is heaven sent and he's at Victor's side in seconds, a hand on his shoulder when Victor – foolish, beautiful, alive and breathing Victor – tries to sit up too fast.

Relief barely scratches the surface of what Yuuri feels.

“I feel terrible,” Victor rasps. A hand flies to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and his breathing hitches. “It's like there's a stone weighing me down.”

There are tears in his eyes but God, how could Yuuri worry about that at a time like this? He smiles, watery and sincere.

“A heart's a heavy burden,” he says sagely, laughing around the boyish excitement flooding through him.

It's then that Victor notices him and his expression softens into what Yuuri is just starting to realize is pure, unadulterated adoration and Yuuri wants to cry for a whole different reason.

“Yuuri.” The way Victor says his name is elegant and soft, like a whisper, and it pulls Yuuri into his orbit like it has so many times already. There's no storm behind Victor's eyes this time. There's no distance stopping Yuuri from latching onto his expression.

The tears that fall from Yuuri's eyes are caught on Victor's fingertips as Victor cups his cheek and pulls him closer.

“Your hair looks like the night sky on water,” Victor marvels, his other hand hovering on Yuuri's hipbone, “It's beautiful.” Yuuri matches the smile Victor graces him with and when the space between them shrinks and liquefies, when Victor's gravity pulls him ever closer, when Yuuri can catch the flecks of silver and green in Victor's irises and Victor can count the gold in his, neither one of them hesitates.

There is no such thing as a perfect first kiss. There are logistics that can only be improved with practice and trust, like the puckering of the lips or the press of a tongue, but when your first kiss is with the right person, it doesn't really matter if Yuuri's lips are chapped or Victor presses too far forward and they both lose their balance.

What matters is the tingling of their skin when they part, their breathless smiles and the tears in Yuuri's eyes as he eagerly leans in and captures Victor's lips again and again. When Victor shifts the angle and Yuuri melts....Well, perhaps perfect is the right word for it.

The cliff-side of the Wastes is so much nicer when the rain has subsided – when the sunlight is clear and the dew is not hovering like a fog over the ground – and the view goes on for miles. Green hills roll along the mountainside, stunning streams of water catch the mid-morning light, and when Yuuri takes a deep breath, the air is clear and free of fire and ash.

Even so, Yuuri can see what is left of Market Chipping from this vantage point – a smoking shadow of its former self – and his stomach twists painfully.

Victor's hand squeezes his shoulder, a tender comfort, and Yuuri tries not to dwell on it. Recovery takes time. Life takes time. And if Yuuri has learned anything, it's that people endure.

He will, too.

There's a flash of light – a blinding mixture of purple, blue, red and green – and Yuuri holds out his hands to catch the star as it falls. The moment he touches it, the star pools into his palms and ignites into flame, and the warmth it spreads extends all the way down to the tips of his toes.

Christophe's hazel eyes and hazy smile beam up at him through the twinkling embers.

“You didn't have to come back, Christophe,” Victor teases, though Yuuri can feel the way his fingers flex a little tighter on the meat of Yuuri's bicep.

“What?” Christophe purrs, switching his attention to the wizard, “Are you saying you didn't miss me? We all know you're hopeless without me, Victor.”

Yuuri laughs and he feels lighter than he ever has in his entire life, giddy on a combination of relief and exhaustion.

“I missed you too, Christophe,” Yuuri says, giving him a smile. If he didn't know any better, he'd say the flames around the apples of Christophe's cheeks sparkled blue.

“What do we do now?” Yurio asks, pudgy fingers tugging at the hem of Yuuri's shirt.

“We start over,” Victor says.

Quietly, imperceptibly, Yuuri's hand finds Victor's and their fingers lace, Victor's fitting perfectly in the spaces between Yuuri's. Their eyes meet – sky blue and honey brown – and Yuuri realizes he'll never need any more reassurance than this. As long as Victor keeps looking at him like this, he feels invincible.

“Yes,” Yuuri breathes, his ears burning, “Let's start over.”

There's something endearingly complicated about life. It gets harder the longer it goes, and though your valleys may deepen, it also means your peaks reach new heights.

The melody of the symphony below, a timid waltz of deep cello strings and flighty violins, reminds Yuuri of a busy market square and pirouettes on rooftops. He recalls the breeze of something new and exciting that day, even though it was laced with an underlying anxiety Yuuri isn't sure he'll ever be fully rid of.

A warm hand settles on the small of his back, reassuring, and it breaks Yuuri from his thoughts long enough to lean into the man who comes to stand at his side.

Yuuri can feel Victor's smile as his lips press into Yuuri's forehead.

“I could hear you thinking from the other room,” Victor chides and Yuuri can't stop the mirthful chuckle that rumbles out of his chest. Victor's hand slides to his waist, pulling him in that much closer, and Yuuri hums.

“I'll try to think quieter next time,” he teases, though he still looks off into the distant clouds, watching them roll past as the castle continues its lazy float across the sky. Victor's fingers slide just under the hem of his shirt, pressing a little into the skin in question, and Yuuri answers it in kind.

“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn't met?” Yuuri's mouth runs away from him as it always does when his thoughts bog him down and though he trips over his words, Victor remains silent, listening. “Or, if I...If I had killed Christophe that day or if you didn't take your heart back or you found me too boring or ugly or – or if I didn't take your hand that day and we didn't...”

Victor's thumb brushes against Yuuri's hipbone and the cool wind chills some of the tension mounting in Yuuri's chest. “Didn't what?” Victor leads.

Yuuri can feel the heat rise on his cheeks even now, and he turns his face into Victor's shoulder defiantly. “...If we didn't fall in love,” he finishes.

Victor's arm winds around Yuuri then, turning Yuuri slowly in his arms. Yuuri leans back against the railing, the metal cold but not uncomfortable, and his hands find their places on Victor's chest, nestled on either side of the strong beat of his heart.

Like magnets, Yuuri's eyes find Victor's and he gets lost in the mirth and adoring blue of those irises like he has thousands of times now. Like he will thousands of times more.

Victor smiles, childlike in its honesty, and wraps his arms around Yuuri's waist.

“Yuuri,” he whispers, “I will always fall in love with you. Anytime, anywhere, any place, I will find you. In this life and the next.” The music wafting from below changes to something gentler and they subconsciously begin to sway as Victor continues. “You have bewitched me,” he breathes, “Captured my very soul for all eternity. And I can't imagine it being in better hands.”

Yuuri's face flushes as his heart soars and oh, he's overwhelmed and so flustered but he's so, so very happy.

Victor has that effect on him – making him feel so many things at once and never once making Yuuri regret it.

“Did Christophe feed you that line?” Yuuri taunts, burying himself in Victor's neck like it will hide the stretch of his smile or the flush to his cheeks.

Victor grins, nuzzling into Yuuri's hair. “It's a good line though, right?”

Yuuri hums and closes his eyes. “It's sappy,” he says.

Sappy. Sappy is something Yuuri Katsuki is happily getting used to.

#victuuri #viktuuri #victuri #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #yuri on ice #fic: the promise of the world #fic: tpotw #chapter 10 is already finished so i just need to edit it #so there wont be as long a wait :')))#thank you for all your continued support #ya'll are the best #toasty posty

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originalobjecttheorist · 7 years

Text

I’m really late for my contribution to Pride Month, but better late than never. Shout out to @ilovemygaysons for forcing me to finish this. This is my first destiel fic ever (eeeeeeepp), constructive criticism welcome.

Pairings-Destiel, Sabriel, DorothyxCharlie

Soulmate AU, Wingfic, Pride,Un-Beta’d

Word Count-1,531

The bright colours can be seen from blocks away. The flags, shirts and wings all glowing in a multitude of colours and glitter. Dean, his brother Sam and Charlie were also decked out in a similar fashion. Charlie in a rainbow tie-dye shirt and her wings in various colours of the gay flag, the bright shirt and wings do nothing to mute the flaming brightness of her red hair. Dean’s shirt and wings are completely contrasting with his sandy blond hair and fanfiction green eyes, as Charlie puts it, in the colours of the bisexual pride flag. Sam wasn’t wearing a multicoloured shirt but his wings were the colours of the aromantic flag, he was wearing a simple t-shirt with a flannel shirt over it and jeans.

As they walk towards the parade Charlie starts talking excitedly, “Imagine meeting your soulmate at the parade. Wouldn’t that be a story to tell?” Dean chuckles “Oh that would be so cliché. I really hope I’m not one of those people,” he says with slight disdain. “Oh shut it Winchester, I know you would love such a chick flick moment.” Charlie says with a smirk. Sam let’s out a chuckle at that. Dean glares at the pair of them,“Lies and slander, Bradbury.You know I hate chick flick moments. Let’s just go check out the parade now. ” Charlie readily agrees.

Manhandling their way as close to the barricade as possible to watch the floats and people go by, filled with vibrant colours and glitter, just like from far away. The floats of different sexual and romantic orientations go by with people in varied outfits and drag throwing out flags, glitter that gets stuck in your hair and clothes for days, and bands of the colours of different flags to the people in the sidelines.

Armed with flags and bands and full of glitter Dean, Sam and Charlie head to the bar where most of the people who attended the pride end up at to meet Aaron and the others. At the bar there was a huge crowd of people split into smaller groups, some of them of different sexualities and others witht their friends. Aaron and Charlie’s girlfriend Dorothy are holding a table for the rest of them. Aaron was dressed formally in a plain shirt and a blazer with matching slacks. The collar of his shirt though is rainbow coloured and he has a pin of the gay flag. Aaron’s wings were looking golden, and if you look closely in the light the feathers were rainbow. Dorothy was dressed like an angel in a simple white dress and her wings white and fluffy like the clouds and her blonde hair creating the image of a halo in the sunlight. The only thing marring her image of an angel is her leather jacket which she barely ever takes off, Dean absently wonders if she wears it to bed too. The leather jacket which was gifted to her by Charlie on her first birthday when they were together is most likely her most treasured possession, even after four years together. Once they’re all settled down Dean offers to get the first round for Dean, Sam and Charlie and a refill for Dorothy and Aaron. Charlie agrees to help him carry the drinks. Walking back to their table armed with all their drinks Dean crashes into a person who seems to be as tall as him and spills the beers he’s holding all over that poor soul. Dean looks up to apologize and is rendered speechless by the beauty of the pure black wings that match this person’s raven black hair and contrast well with the tan trenchcoat he’s wearing. And his eyes, they were just so blue, Dean could be lost in the ocean of his eyes, they were even the same colour as an ocean. Charlie pipes up,”I’m so sorry man we weren’t looking where we were going. Hey! Cool colours by the way, they’re the colours of the ace flag, right?” The man visibly shakes himself back to reality and respons,” Yes, it is. I’m honestly surprised you knew what they were, and it’s quite alright, I also could have been paying better attention.” The gruff tone of voice which suits the beautiful, stubbled face perfectly shakes Dean out of his reverie and Charlie’s and this man’s words register into his mind

Wait, Ace flag?

Dean opens his mouth to apologize to the guy or say something about his wings when a shorter man with golden hair and an obnoxious amount of glitter in his wings, which were in the colours of the pansexual flag, clothes and hair walks up to them and starts talking so fast Dean has to strain to catch up with his words, this guy sounds the way Sam did when he was excited about something as a child, impatient and on a sugar high. “What’s the holdup, Cassie? Did you forget the way to the bar?” the guy turns to them and says in a kind of voice that is meant to be flirtatious,” Well, hello there. I see the holdup now”. Charlie suddenly bristles and gestures to her shirt and wings,” I’m gay, dude.” The guy seems unfazed by this and says,” I see that sweetheart, I was talking to the big hunk of muscle with the pink, purple and blue wings. I’m Gabriel and this is my little brother Cassie.” Charlie flushes in embarrasment and speaks, “Charlie and that big hunk of muscle is Dean. I’m sorry I’m just used to the heteronormativity, which is a pretty sad thing when you think about it.” At the cue Dean pipes up, “Hey. Dean. I mean I’m Dean. And you are?” Dean asks the man with the most beautiful wings Dean has ever seen

“Castiel. You can call me Cas.” says the gruff sounding voice, which sounds like music to Dean’s ears. The only word going through Dean’s mind right now is Soulmate. He wonders if this beautiful man is his. Dean is drawn out of his musings and catches the tail end of what Charlie was saying,”……..sit with us?” with both Cas and Gabriel readily agreeing.

He realized Charlie just invited them to join them at the table. Dean realizes he still hasn’t apologized to the guy for drenching him in booze, “I’m sorry, man. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Dean says to Cas. He accepts his apology with a wave of his hand. Charlie, Cas and Gabriel head back to their table while Dean goes to replace the drinks he doused the hot guy with. When he comes back everybody is laughing at Charlie’s dramatic retelling of how they met Cas and Gabriel. Gabriel is flirting outrageously with his brother and Sam’s red face is so funny Dean wants to take pictures of it for later teasing. He settles down beside Cas and hands everyone else their drinks.

A few minutes later when everyone’s talking over everyone and are engrossed in their personal conversations. Charlie and Dorothy are being all cute and coupley. Aaron seems to be busy on his phone texting God knows who, not that Dean is jealous, hasn’t been in a long time. Sam and Gabriel seem to be moving closer by the minute, at this rate one of them is going to end up in the other’s lap by the end of the day. After a cursory glance at all of this and the rest of the bar, Dean turns to the beautiful man besides him and starts apologising when he gets cut off by Cas saying “Don’t apologise. It’s okay. At least they weren’t strong smelling.” Dean blushes at the man reading his mind and says “Well, I’m still sorry. How about we start over? I’m Dean. Winchester.” He extends his hand to the man. Cas takes it in a firm grip and shakes it once, replying “Castiel. Novak. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

A few hours and multiple drinks later both him and Cas are way past tipsy and are definitely going to feel the effects of it tomorrow Cas stares at Dean’s wings and says “You have the most beautiful wings I’ve ever seen. Their brown reminds me of sunlight through hay,” he shakes his head, as if to cleear his thoughts “No that’s wrong, that doesn’t describe the colour of your wings perfectly. It’s the colour of your hair but also not. It’s…….capti-….captivating” Dean blushes then the words register in his mind. Cas can see his wings. His real wings. That means, no. No, it can’t be, this beautiful and interesting man can’t be Dean’s soulmate. But he is, he is Dean’s soulmate and Dean loves it. He surges forward and stops just before their lips meet. Dean looks up into thise blue eyes with a question, he nods imperceptibly and with permission Dean surges forward to kiss him. The kiss was electric, the haze of alcohol dissipated. If this is what soulmates felt like Dean understood all the hype around them. They break apart and stare at into each others eyes. They have a lot to talk about but for now, this is enough.

#destiel #sabriel #dorothy x charlie #fic #fanfic #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #aaron bass #charlie bradbury #gabriel #asexual!cas #bi!dean #pride month #spn #medha writes stuff #medha creates stuff

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