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veryreallyfuckinbad · 3 years

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FIRE AND MOSS // Daryl Dixon X Reader// CHAPTER 6

TW: Strong language, implied abusive relationships, injury.

The Greene farm basked in the light of the impending sunrise, coating the land in a blanket of oranges, yellows and pinks. Birds began to sing, chirping away, oblivious to the dead people stalking every corner, every street, hiding in every shadow. Your heart filled with strange nostalgia and envy,- you wished you could be as free and uncaring as the winged critters. A strange phenomenon began taking place when the apocalypse hit; the world ended only for people. Nature seemed to be thriving more than ever without people slowly but surely killing it. Vegetation grew from cracks of abandoned houses’ floors, apartments previously filled with chatter and laughter were now home to wild animals. Nature took back what was hers quicker than you expected, signs of her healing around every corner, in every single flower, weed, blooming tree, moss. Most of the previously heavily populated areas smelled like death, the sickly sweet-ish stench of rotting bodies, both of the ones that perished forever and the ones that walked. The forest and the Greene farm, however, smelled like the life you knew. Like carelessness, confidence.

Your feet made slow but steady steps, avoiding making too much noise- Daryl was asleep in his tent and the worst thing you could do was wake him up as he hardly ever got any shut eye. You were certain you were the only one awake, so you stepped through the grass with care, avoiding any twigs that could snap and wake the others up. As you made your way to Dale’s trailer, deciding to take watch duty, you heard a faint, familiar sound coming from behind the trailer. Jake heard it too, instantly tensing, ready to pounce at any danger that might cross your path. You signaled the fox with your hand to relax when you recognized the sound- it was crying. You peeked from behind the RV and instantly felt your heart drop.

Carol was sat on the wet grass, crying, her hands on her head as she tried to control her weeps. Deciding it’s best to let her know you’re there instead of sneaking up on her, you spoke in a half-whisper, “Carol? Are you okay?” when the words left your mouth you realized how plain stupid that question was. Her daughter, all she had left, was missing. Carol’s head whipped to face you, her eyes red and puffy from crying, her cheeks stained with many glistering patterns of where her tears rolled down. When she realized it was only you, she sighed with a mixture of relief and something akin to confusion. She tried, immensely at that, to stop herself from breaking down once again and gave you a sad, unconvincing smile. You dipped your head and took a step towards her, taking a seat beside her.

“I’m just so scared, (Y/N). What if we never find her? Or if we do, it’ll be too-“ her voice trembled, just like her hands did.

“Stop it.” You silenced her, choosing your next words carefully. “I’m not going to say that I have no idea what you must be going through- it’s true, but you’ve heard it a million times already” you looked at her and stared deep into her horrified eyes. “Carol, I know you’re afraid. I do. Hear me out, though; you’ve got two grade A trackers at your disposal.” You gave her a warm smile.

“You can track?” she asked, clearly surprised.

You chuckled lightly, “Nope. He can.” you stroked Jake’s soft fur and watched as Carol’s eyes lit up slightly and shimmered with a glimpse of hope.

“How can he do that? I-I mean,” she stumbled over her words, “what does he need? A scent?”

“He’s not trained or anything, but he’s fantastic at finding stuff.” Your hand left Jake’s head when he shifted and stood up, walking up to Carol and sitting between you and her. He must’ve felt how heartbroken she was because he lowered his snout down to the woman’s hand and after giving it a brief sniff, he licked it and bumped it with his nose slightly. You smiled with pride and happiness.

“See? He promised he’ll do his best.” You said and watched Carol’s eyes light up again.

Carol sniffled and dug in one of her pockets, quickly handing you the item she was looking for. It was a piece of fabric, carefully cut around the edges.

“It’s a piece of her blanket. I keep it in my pocket to at least have a piece of her with me.” She explained and handed you the soft fabric. You knew she trusted you- she wouldn’t give the last of what she had left of her daughter to just anyone.

“We’ll go search right now.” You smiled at her and felt her fall apart all over again, this time because of gratitude. She crawled up to you and wrapped her arms around you, engulfing you in a warm, thankful embrace.

“Thank you so much” she nearly cried again. You hugged back and whispered a soft ‘you’re welcome’. Carol let go of you to face Jake and look into his eyes with the same respect she’s given you. “Thank you, too.” She extended her arm to touch him and you were about to jump in to stop her, afraid of Jake’s response, but stopped when you saw him pull his head into her hand, allowing her to touch him. It seemed like he was comforting her, as well as reassuring her he’ll do everything he can.

The farmland was still covered in the pink-orange light when you returned to your tent to retrieve your bag, just in case you found something worth taking. You’d hoped Daryl was still asleep and worried that your shuffling might’ve woke him up, so you carefully stepped closer to his tent to make sure he was sleeping. With each step, it became increasingly more clear that the archer was, in fact, not in his tent- the zip entrance was left open. You didn’t want to be nosy…but you wanted to check if he was okay. At least that’s what you told yourself- you’ve always wondered how his tent looks from the inside. You couldn’t tell whether it was pure curiosity or the burning need to find out more about the man. Before you could poke your head inside, you felt a presence right behind you, looming over you. Daryl stood right behind you.

“Found what ya were lookin’ for?” he asked, his voice not carrying as much weight as you’d expected it to. He didn’t appear mad, just irritated. Or so you hoped. You tried your best to keep your cool and turn around to face him, taking a step back when you realized how close he was.

“Now I did.” You smiled at him but your eyes betrayed you- he could feel your anxiety and uncertainty. He was usually frustrated with how hard you were to read, but the look in your eyes seemed familiar, like he’s seen you do it before but couldn’t put his finger on it.

Ever since the night Jake allowed Daryl to touch him, he was more confused than ever. The archer couldn’t understand how you- someone who’s been through so much, more than you’d let on, could be so friendly and loving towards her group. She never took and only gave, thinking of her fox and the group before herself. There was one more thing he couldn’t wrap his mind around and it drove him crazy- why would she give him special treatment? She opened up to him and him only, never allowed anybody except him see her cry, gave him handmade gifts, trusted him with her beloved companion. Not that you didn’t annoy him at times, but everybody did. Sometimes, you didn’t know when to stop talking and while he tolerated it for the longest time, sometimes he just had to send you back to your tent to give him room to breathe. He loved that you never took it personally, always conscious of his need for space.

“What’s the bag for?” he eyed you and patiently awaited your response before adding, “Ya movin’ out?”

“Oh, I would never.” You smirked at him and crossed your arms. “You’d miss me too bad, Dixon” you teased and expected a grunt or shrug in response, but to your surprise he retorted.

“ ‘f course. Who would sit with me when I cry my eyes out?” he smirked back at you, clearly a jab for the time you broke down in front of him. You rolled your eyes and stood on your tiptoes to affectionately ruffle his hair, much to his displeasure. You enjoyed how you could crack jokes at each other now, he had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor that you found hilarious in his own, strange way.

“You know you love me.” You teased him while turning your back to him and walking away, finally about to go out searching. “I’m going out to look for Sophia with Jake.”

“I’m comin’ with ya.” He said matter of factly, as if you had no say in it.

“If you do, Shane won’t get off my ass for the rest of the day. He already dislikes me, just wait until I ‘unnecessarily take away manpower from the farm’ or some shit like that.” Everything you said was true. You got along with every resident of the farm, with the exception of Shane. He never began trusting you and didn’t even think of trying. He always tried to control the group, but you never listened to him, probably because of the lack of mutual respect. The only people anyone in the group took orders from were Rick and Hershel.

“He can try. Screw ‘im. I’m comin’ with.” His mind was made and you decided not to argue with the stubborn archer.

“To be fair, I can see why you’d want to spend time with me. I’m the shit.” You heard Daryl scoff and shake his head, but once you looked at his face more closely, you realized he was smiling. “C’mon, let’s get the horses ready.”

Hooves hit gently against the ground, the horse’s head swaying subtly as he walked. You felt quite confident on the animal’s back, but Daryl seemed anxious. His broad shoulders looked even wider as he tensed, cautious- he didn’t trust the animal. Jake trotted alongside your horse, occasionally running off to check something out, but always came back. Your trusty knife was sheathed and safely buckled to your pants- ever since you got it back, you didn’t leave camp without it.

“You know, you gotta trust the horse a little. At least try.” You tried to nudge him, but you knew it was futile. If you were honest, you just wanted the awkward silence to end. Daryl looked at you and raised his brows.

“These things are unpredictable though,” he began and shrugged, “Merle ‘n I once…borrowed a neighbors horse, he had a stable or some shit.” He smiled to himself “Fucker bucked me off ‘n I fell right on my ass.” He finished and looked at you, awaiting your reaction. When you burst into laughter all he do was shake his head and grunt in response. “Couldn’t sit proper for days.”

You chuckled some more, your smile so contagious that even he mimicked it. For some reason, he didn’t mind you laughing at his story all that much.

“So it is a childhood trauma?” you nudged him again, half-joking and offered him a playful smirk. To your surprise, that didn’t seem to amuse him, his smile quickly fading before he gave you a sad smile. You realized you probably hit a nerve with that statement. “I’m so sorry.”

“ ‘s fine. What hurt me more was yer laughing at my sore ass.” He turned his head slightly to look at you from the side with the same smile as moments before appearing on his face. Quickly, silence fell upon you once again. This time, it was almost deafening and you didn’t understand why- when you sat with him by the campfire, you felt completely comfortable in silence with the man. It was like the warmth of the flame engulfed you like a soft blanket and made you immune to the man’s frustratingly quiet nature.

Daryl grasped the reins tightly as if to comfort himself- the feeling of leather straps digging into his palm was strangely comforting. The hunter’s hair fell upon his forehead; it was growing longer. He didn’t care but wondered whether it was practical to live in the death-ridden world with strands of hair falling over his eyes. He glanced upon you, your eyes on Jake. You stared at the fox with such love, nothing but pure affection. Not in the way you’d look at a puppy or any other pet- you looked at him as a valuable, fully capable member of the group. You saw him as a survivor, and Daryl admired that. He watched as your hair swayed and jumped gently with every step your horse took. He was lost in his own thoughts while he gazed at you, he wondered why he couldn’t force himself to push you away or tell you to move your tent back to the group. He guessed that that’s what it was like to have a friend.

“So, since we’re gonna be riding for a long time” you began, cutting through the silence and Daryl’s thoughts as he immediately averted his gaze and hoped you didn’t catch him looking at you. You did. “Tell me something about yourself” you smiled at him sincerely.

“Ya sound like a god damn hairdresser” he scoffed and shrugged, “make sure to ask me how’s school, too.”

You chuckled and shook your head, giving him a side-eye. You awaited his response, but it never came. If you had to take one more minute of that awkward silence, you’d rather dig a hole and jump straight in.

“Let me start, then.” You began and rolled your eyes. “I’m (Y/N)” you heard him mumble a ‘wow’ underneath his breath and shushed him with a smile, “For real, though. One thing you might have noticed about me is I make horrible decisions.” You grinned at him

“Such as?”

“Like setting my tent up next to yours” you joked and heard him chuckle- it was a fantastic sound. It made you happy in all kinds of ways, maybe because it was so rare, it was special. “Anything, really. Laying on broken glass that one time”, you grinned at your dry joke, reminiscing about how that very day led you to meeting your new family, “I dunno, anything really. School, back when that was a thing, the people I hung out with, relationships.”

He stilled at that last word. Not because he was uncomfortable or unwilling to listen to her talk about it but because he was worried that someone hurt you.

“What d’ya mean?” he glanced at you curiously, “The relationship part.”

You smiled uncomfortably, unsure whether you should share or not. You mentally slapped yourself for letting that last part come out- you should’ve expected him to ask. Even though you’ve somewhat healed, talking about it out loud was never easy. Moss still grew on your heart.

“Oh, you know. Jackasses that, uh…” you stumbled over your words as Daryl watched you carefully, “Whenever they were mad, they took it out on me.” You gave him a reassuring smile, trying to show how confident you were, how you’ve healed. It was only partially true- sometimes it still hurt. “This one dude,” you began, this time with a chuckle, “got so pissed at me for wanting something stupid, flowers I think, for my birthday.” You smiled at him half-heartedly. Daryl stared at you and tried to decode your expression. He, however, was easy to read at that very moment- he was pissed. Not at you, but at the men you’ve been with. The archer guessed you didn’t want his pity, however. He knew it would only make it worse.

“Ya didn’t lie when ya called him a jackass” he smirked at you for a brief moment, “I get it.”

You’ve finally reached your destination- a small creek with a two-way path. Twigs grew out of the ground where the drop of a small trench-like pit began. Deciding it’s best to split up to cover as much ground as possible, Daryl took the left and you- the right path. You’d promised each other to meet at this very creek later on.

As the hours passed, nothing came of your search. Jake ran around, sniffing the cloth Carol gave you from time to time but found nothing, say for a rabbit that he promptly caught and ate. You couldn’t believe the girl was just gone, without a trace at that. You couldn’t allow yourself to believe that- you’d lose all the hope you had left. With a heavy sigh, you turned around and began heading back through the dense woodland, back to the spot you were supposed to meet Daryl at. The forest smelled fresh- the repulsive stench of death was replaced with the sweet scent of flowers and the gentle smell of grass and trees.

When you reached your meeting spot you looked around and quickly came to the conclusion that Daryl was still out looking. With a sigh, you hopped off your horse and tied it’s reins to a sturdy branch. Before you could sit down and relax, you heard a horrifying grunt coming from the trench. Sure it was a walker, you grabbed your knife and took careful steps, making sure not to slip on the wet, muddy grass. Jake beat you to it, running to whatever was making the noise and immediately beginning to shriek and call for you. Your legs moved on their own, not caring about being cautious anymore. When you arrived to where Jake stood, just over the ledge, you looked down into the hollow and felt your breath get stuck in your throat.

Daryl was trying to climb out of the trench, slipping on the mud and desperately grasping for any branch that could support his weight to pull himself up. He was covered in blood, his mouth was red and something was hung on his neck. Blood was trickling from his side and dripping on his pants, staining his shirt. He quickly noticed you and stared at you. He looked different, no life in his steel-blue eyes. None of the spark they usually had, they were glossy, confused and afraid. Thinking quickly, you grabbed onto a root sticking out of the ground for support and extended your hand to him. He looked dazed, as if unsure what to do, whether he should grab your hand, but quickly decided to do so. You felt his strong grasp on your wrist as you tried to pull him up, heaving and wincing from the pain of his grip on your wrist. Your feet began slipping and you almost fell down the trench. The grip of his hand was so strong that you were sure he would eventually break it.

“Hold on!”

You braced yourself and with one last, painful pull he was out of the creek. He laid on his back next to you, both of your chests heaving and breathing deeply. You didn’t allow yourself to rest though, quickly kneeling next to him and inspecting his wound.

“What the hell happened?” your eyes were full of fear and worry, “Daryl, talk to me. Please.”

He grunted, clearly in pain and in a feverish state.

“Arrow. Fell on it”

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A/N: I'm so sorry this took me so long, I was super busy and then had a massive writer's block. This chapter definitely isn't the best but I promise the next one will be much better! <3

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kannra21 · 3 years

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Not Weak

Geten found herself in a tricky situation and she doesn't want Re-Destro to find out. How can a certain fire-user help her by making things even more complicated?

characters: dabi (todoroki touya) x f!geten

word count: 3.2k

warnings: angst, past memories, scars, abuse mention, foul language, comfort, making out

notes: I'd like to thank @seenalready13 for proofreading this work since I can be v clumsy with grammar haha. I'm v grateful for the help! And also, the picture above belongs to 九わん (@91qwn), here's the link to the artwork. Please support their work!

✂-------------------------------------------------------

Geten, as the keystone of the entire army, had the task of leading her group and ensuring that anyone within their ranks followed her instructions. The loyalty of their people was unquestionable as everyone adhered to Destro's teachings, and she was immensely proud of her Cryokinesis.

The ice-user was grateful to their grand commander for granting her this amazing opportunity of making up for all the great things that he's done for her. She wore an honorable title, and her reputation has risen a lot since the hooning of her meta ability for years. However, she did experience all sorts of things their organization had to offer from the moment Re-Destro promoted her to his right-hand woman, believing that she'd be strong enough to take on the responsibility and he was right. It wasn't like she was bothered too much, especially since dealing with a couple of thugs on her own was no big deal for her. Still, this didn't mean that after performing their duties the soldiers couldn't relax and show their true colors.

This was the case with one guy in particular, who was casually hitting on her and calling her pet names which were utterly gross and humiliating. She had the utmost need to wipe the fucker out of the face of the Earth, but she also knew damn well that Re-Destro would disapprove of such actions considering that the army must avoid inner conflicts at all costs. Of course, she wanted to take matters into her own hands, to prove to the commander that she was deserving of her title, but the jerk simply wouldn't take her seriously as she wanted to be through with whatever problem she had without necessarily dragging Re-Destro into it. That's why she decided to take the easier route and use someone to her own advantage.

"What's in there for me?" Dabi asked, uninterested as he fixed the staples on his burnt skin.

It's true that they were partnered up to share their leading spot at the Vanguard Action Guerilla Warfare Regiment: Violet, but this didn't mean that they had to play nice with each other. Especially after Geten's offensive speech of power and people's place in this world.

She clenched her fists in her pockets; of course, she should've known that he'd ask for something in return. "I don't have much to offer,” she said through greeted teeth.

She looked almost pitiful if it weren't for her leading position; she felt stupid to even ask for help when she could've just ended the whole mess with one swift motion of her ice, and bam, the fool's dead. Well, if things could be that easy.

"I... I'M THE TOP LIEUTENANT AND THEREFORE I DEMAND OBEDIENCE! LIKE I NEED TO CONFIDE IN YOU, BURNT CHICKEN NUGGET SCUM!"

"THE FUCK-" Dabi stood up, fire flaring up in his hand and ready to strike as he saw Geten backing off with ice covering her right arm, bracing herself for the upcoming attack.

And then he saw it, at this very moment, the look of hesitation and unease covering her blue eyes. She... didn't want to fight? Was she defending herself? It reminded Dabi of something else from his past, or rather someone, defending themselves from his flames, wearing the exact same expression on their face while protecting his youngest brother. The dripping water from her ice washed over his memories as he obtained one after another in a frantic blur. Nostalgia soon followed the guilt, and it tore him apart, except he didn't want to show it, but Geten already noticed his anger faltering which was her cue to relax.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered under his breath, barely for her to hear.

"What?" as the question rolled out of her mouth, she internally lost herself in delirium "BLUEFLAME CRISPY MCBACON JUST APOLOGIZED WTFWTFWTFWTFWTWTF-"

"Geten?"

"YES?" she snapped, too loud for what she initially intended.

"I'll help you, and there's actually something you can do for me in return."

She crossed her arms and smirked confidently at him from her previous ego boost, much to his frowning expression.

"Whatcha suggestin'?"

"I'll scare the fucker off, and you'll then... cool down my skin from using my flames. Deal?"

Geten looked at him for a moment to determine if he was joking about the offer but from the looks of it and his deep husky voice that she got used to oh so many times during the past week of working with him, she concluded that he was, indeed, not messing around. Dabi expected her to laugh it off or straight up refuse whatever suggestion he had on mind, but from the manner she weighed her choices in her head and the way she looked at him, with those bright, beautiful eyes and long lashes fixated to his own... Wait, when did they get this close?

The two backed off and cleared their throats in embarrassment. They were freaking staring at each other, and for fucking what?

"I... It's a deal then."

"Good."

…

"Just... don't hurt yourself too much while dealing with the idiot."

Dabi turned his head so fast his neck hurt.

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING SO WEIRD?!"

"SHUT UP AND MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASS!"

As they reached the place where their target was supposed to be, the man soon showed up by Geten's side and started pestering her with all kinds of bull he made her deal with on a daily basis. And just as she felt sick enough, Dabi put his hot hand on the guy's shoulder, making his skin sting in the first-degree burns. The guy then backed off and glared at the fire-user with utmost disdain.

"THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?"

"Listen up freak", Dabi took Geten for the waist and gently pulled her towards himself, her body leaning on his own and fitting perfectly under his larger frame, "I saw what you did there. You’d better stop messing with my girlfriend, or else you'll burn to ashes."

Geten internally screamed and pinched him on the side for being a fucking idiot. "HIS GIRLFRIEND!? THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO PLAY OUT LIKE THAT!"

"You sound too confident, guess I should give you a nice beating to teach you a lesson."

He soon regretted his decision because Dabi was entirely down to realize his threat, and after a couple of burns, the moron retreated while he still could and left Geten alone.

And while she hated that they needed to make a scene in front of the other soldiers who were whispering to each other and exchanged who knows what kinds of things, she couldn't leave Dabi alone like this so she put his hand over her shoulder and helped him reach a more secluded area. They entered his room because he said that he kept the first aid kit in a drawer. It was also the first time that Geten came by but it didn't look at all exciting either; the room had a very plain interior, darkened space with the shutters down, piles of dirty clothes creased to the side probably waiting to be washed, the bed left unmade since this morning, a bunch of disinfectants sitting on the nightstand and some used medical gaze forgotten to be thrown away. Geten almost felt sorry for him. It's not like she was doing any better but at least she knew how to take care of herself.

She seated him carefully on the bed, and he started digging through drawers until he found what he needed. When he was all set, he began to take his jacket and shirt off but then Geten panicked and lowered his shirt.

Dabi's confusion mixed with annoyance was now directed towards the ice gremlin's pretty face. "Aren't you going to cool me down?"

"I THOUGHT YOU ONLY MEANT HANDS AND THINGS LIKE THAT! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF!?" she shouted with blushing cheeks covering her face with her hands.

Dabi soon understood what she meant and closed his eyes, wearing a disheartened smile.

"It's not like you'll see much. Just a bunch of patched-up skin and bruises. It's not even that hot."

"THAT'S NOT WHAT-,” but then she noticed that his expression never actually faltered, he looked to the front and waited patiently for her next move, sadness surrounding his wounded features. It's not like it was his first time reconciling with the facts, but still, being this burnt and knowing that it wasn't entirely his fault, but his father was also to blame, which made him remember the days when he wasn't in such a fucked up condition as he was now. It made him feel a bit of regret too. But he needed to acknowledge that the path he took was the one with no return, and he needed to accomplish his mission. Endeavor needed to be brought down at all costs; maybe then he'd gain a sense of worth and show him, prove to him, that he was deserving of more incredible things. The ice-user sighed in defeat and gave up on her embarrassment, "just show me what you got.”

Dabi was brought out of his train of thought, and he took off his shirt. It turns out that he was right, some of his scarred skin was sizzling slightly, and his wounds looked terrible because they were situated further on the back where he couldn't reach. She took the disinfectant from the nightstand and tapped it lightly on the freshly made scars. He made a slight grimace, but didn't flinch, didn't wince, like he was afraid of showing his weaknesses by putting on a tough act. It'll all pay off, he assured himself, once he gets rid of his dad.

When she finished, he allowed Geten to scoot closer to make her do her thing. Her icy hands on his skin felt so good that suddenly he forgot about all of his problems. He turned his face to the side so she wouldn't notice, but the goosebumps on his skin told her otherwise.

She made a sly smile and cocked her head to look at him from the corner.

"What's up, tough guy? Can't hide the way I make you feel good?"

He laughed under his breath. He liked when she was this flirty. It made the situation less awkward. But he also felt uncomfortable with how he needed to depend on someone, just like her, when she asked for his help. Were they that similar?

"I need to ask you something,” Dabi asked quietly like he was probing the waters.

"Yea?"

"Do you still think that I'm weak?"

The silence filled the room, and he had the need to explain himself.

"You said that there's no worth living if the user doesn't possess a strong meta ability. Hooning your power was the only thing worth your time as you didn't wish for anything else. You always thought that our Quirks defined us, that they're things we identify with for life. Now that you've taken a closer look at my condition, tell me, what do you think?"

Geten suddenly grew interested in the laminate floor under their feet as she couldn't look anywhere else, her eyes deep in thought.

"That was very mean of me, and I'm sorry, especially since you risked your own health for my reputation."

"... by calling you, my girlfriend?"

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT IT DIDN'T MAKE ANY ACTUAL SENSE!?, her teeth grew sharp, and her eyes furrowed like some rabid cartoon character.

"It did, actually. Because of my threat, the fool is now afraid of looking at your general direction, knowing that I'd kick his ass whenever he says something stupid again."

Unbothered, he drank his painkillers from the glass of water.

"... Wait. You'd really repeat all of this... for me?"

Just as he drank, so did he spit, coughing and wiping his chin with his forearm.

"Of course I would, but don't get the wrong idea."

""WRONG IDEA"? YOU LITERALLY CALLED ME YOUR GIRLFRIEND IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!"

"IT WAS JUST TO CONFUSE THE FUCKER!"

"THEN WHY WOULD YOU REPEAT IT?"

"IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU REALLY!"

"THEN WHY'S IT!?"

"I JUST NEED YOU FOR YOUR STUPID ICE FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

The room fell in complete silence once again, and the tension became so thick one could almost cut it with a knife.

Her expression grew cold, and her eyes bore nothing but pure disgust. "So that's what this was all about."

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING SO SURPRISED NOW? IT WAS OUR DEAL, REMEMBER?"

She sat up from her seat and went straight to the door, readying herself to leave.

"Wait."

Just as she was about to step out, she turned around, his tone of voice catching her off guard only to see him sitting miserably on his bed, head hanging and elbows leaning on his knees, grieving.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

Geten stood at the doorway for a minute and then slowly entered again, closing the door behind her. Dabi continued.

"I say things that I don't mean and push the people I care about away."

The white-hair watched his back in silence until she decided to speak up again "... So you actually meant it... the other way?"

"I'm such a sick fuck."

She sensed the crack in his voice and came closer, undoing his hands only to see blood trailing down his face.

"Whoa, what's going on with your scars?" she tried to wipe it off only to smear it across his cheeks, and Dabi smiled a little.

"Aren't you disgusted by it? Now all of your fingers are red."

She didn't mind his words but created an ice cube to wash it with the water.

"I should call Sceptic. He’s much better at this medical shit than I am."

"No one can help me with it. My tear ducts are all burnt out, and I can't really tear up much."

"Wait, you're crying?"

Dabi refused to say anything as she tried to wipe the rest of the blood off, pressing gentle circles on his now iced skin.

"Blueflame…"

"Hah, actually, you're right. Maybe I really am as weak as you told me back then. I literally am falling apart. How pitiful."

Without a second thought, she slapped him across the face, and he took his stinging cheek in his hand.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"

"Thanks...."

"I'm sorry. Look, you're everything but weak, so don't you dare call yourself that. You endured so much pain, your skin is the proof of the things you've gone through in life, and you freaking survived. No one would be able to do this but you. You're not weak, Blueflame, far from it."

"You think so?"

"Of course I do! If it weren't for your help today, I would have talked to Re-Destro, and he'd think that I was too weak for my leadership role. I never actually thanked you for this, thank you."

"You're not weak either, doll. I'm pretty sure that you've beat my ass the week before."

She just smiled at him, and then they looked at each other the same way they did when they made their offer, except they didn't back off this time. They leaned into the kiss that was slow at first, but then they applied more pressure, and it grew more passionate. It was also their first time, so they couldn't really make fun of each other's clumsiness. Whenever their teeth collided, they laughed a little but continued until it felt right. She melted against him, her lips working in tandem with his and his hand slid up her outer thigh as he leaned forward to deepen it. She grasped his lower lip with her teeth before pulling away for some air, and he groaned.

"God, this felt good..." his chest heaved, his words a gravelly whisper.

She stood up and widened her stance, legs bracketing his own as she reached out to grab the back of his neck. She leaned over, forehead resting against his.

"You're not so bad yourself, gorgeous-eyes."

"I differ, yours are much more gorgeous."

"Really? Kinda sappy coming from your side." she grinned, but this didn't discourage him in the slightest.

"I could get lost in them, I mean it."

He caught her face in his palms, drawing her in deeper as his tongue slipped between their lips and slid against hers. His Quirk activated, his kiss is fierce and sweet all at once, and her head spins as his hands slid up her thighs, warming her up. Her mouth became much cooler now, and it sent shivers down his spine. She planted her icy hands on his shoulders and pushed them both backward, landing on the comfort of his bedsheets.

He drew circles over her back and waist, taking in her beautiful features as her head hovered over his own, hair tickling the skin on his face. She gave him a little peck that made him smile, and she cupped his face, thumbs stroking the side of his cheeks.

"So we're official now?" she didn't know why she asked. It was kind of obvious now, but she wanted to hear it coming from his lips.

His expression became serious again as he looked to the side concerningly. He really didn't want to spoil whatever they had going on with his fucked up story about his family, hero society, his mission that could possibly cost him his life for the sake of achieving greater good. Now the last thing he needed was to fall in love with someone and die when he finally found his reason. Life was such a bitch sometimes.

"I'm currently dealing with a very unfortunate situation. I'm afraid that you'd get affected, and I don't want to endanger you by it."

She tilted her head questionably, "And I thought that we'd overcome everything as long as we're fighting together."

He looked at her worryingly, but his words bore a tad bit of curiosity in them, "You want to fight by my side?"

"Of course, you have my full support." she grinned widely, and he smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. It was amazing how much optimism, or rather confidence, could be stored in one single ice gremlin. But he loved her more than everything.

"Very well then." he turned them over and planted a kiss on her forehead before getting on his feet and pulling her up towards himself. "Boss told me about some business we need to take care of in the neighborhood. Cocktail hours?"

"FUCK WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY EARLIER!?"

"Relax, we'll arrive on time." he took his shirt and jacket and put them on.

As they walked towards their location, Dabi took her hand in his while some of the soldiers watched them in confusion, remembering when the two fought against each other.

He couldn't care less. She was the first person who ever supported him, so if his days were outnumbered, then he'd as well spend them with the only person worth his time.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #dabi #geten #dabiten #dabi x femgeten #f!geten #fanfic #paranormal liberation front #meta liberation army #league of villains #plf #mla #lov

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mintsuke · 4 years

Text

For Rent || 4.5 - Touché

Kita Shinsuke x f!Reader SMAU

Warning: Mention of implied sex

Note: The cafe is inspired by the Gäbi Coffee and Bakery in Las Vegas. (look up pictures, it’s a really cute place, the bathrooms are just as pretty too I wanted to cry)

Masterlist | Previous | Next

You’re not really sure what you’re expecting on this date. You told Atsumu to just have his friend meet you at one of your favorite cafes in town. Surely a cliche first date location, but you wanted a feel for the boy if you were going to help him out and whatnot.

Arriving at the place, you really hadn’t expected for your date to be there before you. An admirable trait, really. You only heard snippets of Atsumu and Osamu’s high school days, and if you remember well, their robotic captain was always the first in the clubroom without fail.

Digital pictures really never did people justice. That much stayed true when you caught a glimpse of the former volleyball captain. He stood out with his short silver hair, the tips singed with black. From where you stood, he was of average height, his clothes hiding what you imagined was a lean body from years of volleyball and manual work in the rice fields. He was dressed nicely in a beige sweater with a white collared shirt underneath and khakis.

Pretty from afar sometimes meant pretty up close, and boy were you two seconds away from sobbing into your phone.

“Excuse me, are you Miya Atsumu’s friend?” You ask, leaning into his field of vision. A pair of almond eyes focus on your form. The man seems almost stunned by the sight of you, blinking once before his composure quickly returns.

“Yes, are you (L/n) (F/n)-san?”

Oh. Wow his voice.

“That would be me, Atsu didn’t mention any name, so I apologise,” You smile softly as he bows slightly and you mirror his movements in return.

“No worries, Kita Shinsuke, it’s a pleasure to meet you (L/n)-san.”

“Just (F/n) is fine, after all, we are supposed to be ‘dating’ right?”

He doesn’t show any reaction or distaste and simply nods in understanding and suggests you call him Shinsuke. Although, he silently notes the way you refer to his former junior by a nickname.

“Did he mention to you that I’m a... a ‘girlfriend-for-rent’?” You decide to ask, given how absolutely dumb your close friend can be.

The surprise that passes through his expression like a car speeding past is adorable to say the least. His body noticeably stiffens and he shakes his head.

“He only mentioned you helping me out with gaining experience, a ‘fake’ date, but don’t worry about me feeling uncomfortable. I guess I have been stressing a little too much lately, the twins were able to tell.”

“Really? Want to talk about it inside?” You gesture towards the cafe, and he nods. Kita moves to take a step forward when you stop him. The confusion in his eyes and the slight way his brows furrow is cute.

“Is something wrong?”

“We’re on a date, so why don’t we hold hands?”

The idea clicks in his head and he offers a good-natured upturn of his lips, presenting an outstretched hand. Taking it, you make a mental note of the size in comparison to yours, his skin warm to the touch as your fingers lace and he leads you towards the entrance. He only lets go when he has to open the door and beckons you inside. A gesture that makes you a little giddy, given that most dates don’t do so.

A little chivalry never hurt, and Kita was already charming you.

The inside was one of your favorite parts, at least besides the delicious desserts and refreshing drinks. Vintage-esque paintings, planters hanging from the ceiling with trailing vines, tall bookcases lining the walls, and an assortment of mismatched chair and tables that all added to the aesthetic of the place.

He nearly tripped over his own feet when you tugged him excitedly towards the display of desserts. He watched as your eyes glowed with near adoration of the assortment for that day.

“Pick anything you want, I’m paying,” He said as you eyed the earl grey cheesecake. The statement made you stand up straight.

“Wh-what, no that’s okay, I can pay for myself.”

“This is a date right? I’m paying,” He smiles slyly as it soon becomes your turn in line to the register.

Touché, you think inwardly with a pout.

“So let’s hear about it,” You smile as you both find a seat at a velvet love seat with a wooden coffee table settled in front. “If it’s alright with you at least.”

“Of course,” He chuckles lightly, “My grandmother has been constantly bringing up marriage and children whenever she can. I want to make her happy of course, my grandmother is my world. I guess it’s just been weighing down on my mind... and I’m not particularly looking or anything, I guess maybe I don’t where to start... I’m sure Atsumu probably mentioned that I never had a girlfriend...”

“Mm... I see, that’s sweet that you want to make her happy, but you have to worry about your own happiness too Shinsuke,” You say thoughtfully, “I’m sure she means no harm, but there’s no rush in trying to be tied down.”

A smile.

“Thank you, I appreciate your words. I suppose I can still try this ‘trial’ out, if you’re up for it. Practice makes perfect after all.”

“Of course!”

After small talk, a little getting to know the other, all the while enjoying your drinks and desserts, you lead him on a walk. To say the least, you immensely adored the way his facade would crack ever so slightly at the smallest things. The way his eyes widened a fraction and ears reddened as you prodded the seam of lips with your spoon full of cheesecake. To which he accepted and followed with a spoon of his own dessert.

Hands laced together and sides pressed close. You had gone over a few policies, or at least rules to put it a little more informally, since you were going on multiple dates. It was all basic necessities like no feelings and the importance of consent. The last was a given, but you always made it your mission to bring it up as an importance for any and everyone who rented your services.

“You... You don’t do sexual services do you?”

You forget that Atsumu mentioned how straightforward Kita can be. Hearing it coming from him is like a punch to the gut and you cough when you choke on your spit.

“S-sorry, that caught me off guard,” You laugh weakly as you both sit on the swings at a park that had been nearby. He sits idly as your feet push you back and forth in small gentle swings, not enough to catch air or lift your feet off the ground.

“I apologize if it was too forward of me.”

“No, well, no one has really asked me that question...” You reply meekly, “It’s not necessarily part of the job description but some customers ask for it I suppose... but I never really go that far... only twice... I guess... if I were to be real honest with you. Most times I decline because I feel uncomfortable and the guys are really good about respecting me.”

“It’s a little odd since I’m supposed to be catering to my date’s wishes, but I can’t really do anything about it...”

He makes a noise of appraisal. He’s not quite sure why he thinks the way he does. Imagining the other guys you must have gone on similar dates with. Did you take them to that particular cafe as well? Hold their hand and smile that same smile.

“So how do you know Atsumu? I don’t think you attended Inarizaki...”

“I didn’t,” You smile, “He actually rented me a long while ago. A loss game and constant dating rumors were stressing him out, to say the least, he needed a stress reliever and a break from being asked if it’s true he’s dating so-and-so.” You pause in case he wants to interject, but he keeps silent. You opt to changing activity, climbing the playground set despite the obvious sign that reads children only.

“We stayed close friends afterwards, he helps me out a lot, and even Osamu had gotten me a side job at Onigiri Miya.”

Even worse, he sighs inwardly. Another poke to the roaring thoughts inside his head. You had done the same with his junior, if not further?

There’s a shift in the atmosphere, and you both feel a little odd. He wonders if it was a mistake asking about Atsumu. You wonder, on the other hand, if you’ve said too much. But he’s a friend of your close friends, it wouldn’t hurt right?

He seems to notice the awkward air that’s settled around you both and scratches the back of his head timidly.

“That was a little invasive of me wasn’t it? I apologize.”

“N-no it’s alright, you are a friend of Atsu, so I don’t mind,” You laugh slightly.

“Well, if you do feel uncomfortable, or I cross a line, please let me know and I’ll respect you.”

The way your chest flutters at the statement is dangerous. You ignore the feeling as you smile thankfully. He was kind nonetheless and you liked that.

Kita tells stories of his time as a volleyball player, dealing with the antics and constant bickering between the two twins, managing a team of exceptional players. His eyes light up tremendously, almost sparkling as he talks about different moments, both good and sad.

You don’t even realize how you’ve been completely sucked into his world, listening to every word. Watching the way his face turns with nostalgia. He pauses every now and then to gauge your reaction, smiling momentarily to see you so invested in his tales.

“What about you? Why did you decide on working as a ‘girlfriend-for-rent’?”

Oh.

Emotion spills onto your face, more than you mean to, and Kita is quick to notice the shift in your expression.

“That...”

He shakes his head and puts his hand up to stop you, “It was a touchy question wasn’t it? Don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you...” You offer softly, almost reluctant to speak in case your emotions start going haywire. Your mood immediately drops and he’s aware of this.

When Atsumu pulls up to pick you up, you stop in your tracks and turn to your date. He watches curiously as you move closer, until the distance gradually lessens and your body presses to his. Arms wrap around his middle and he’s speechless for a second.

“It’s a hug Shinsuke, we’re dating still, right?”

Ah. Yeah. He chuckles, a little relieved that despite his mess ups, you still continued to act accordingly. This was business as usual after all.

+Taglist | Closed!

@differentballooncollection @sugawsites @oikawalmart-hq @tremendousglitterthing @90s-belladonna @kiyoojima @unqstuffles @chaelysian @arisu003

(comments replies will be from my main blog @minnochu | couldn’t tag in bold)

#For Rent mintsuke #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #haikyuu social media #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #kita shinsuke x reader #kita smau #kita x reader #kita shinsuke smau #kita imagines

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mimssides · 3 years

Text

Never Met You

Chapter 6: Nostalgia

Memories can heal and hurt. They fill their lives and form their opinions and growth. They shall give themselves time to remember.

After the ambush, the castle had been under high alert. The king’s meetings had been reduced to a minimum and he was to stay in his own now heavily guarded wing. It had been a relief to hear Logan simply agree with Janus’s proposal. Unlike Roman, who was anything but happy with the measurements Janus, Green and Virgil himself had come up with, Logan had seen the reason behind it and was following their instructions as well as he could.

Now Virgil had time to rummage through the castle and check it from bottom to top. While Janus was coordinating the court, he had begun to search for possible breaches, questioning his way through the servants, guards and the workers in the courtyard. Janus had sent Green to go with him. Despite the short time Green had spent here he had made a few connections already and Virgil could use all the help he could get when he was talking to people.

Socializing was just not his thing. He was a guardian first and everything else second.

Right now, they were training though. Virgil had wanted to see how fit Green was and got pleasantly surprised by his ability to keep up with him. Not many could do so and it made it easier for Virgil to let him be close to Roman. It was hard for him to let anyone close to Roman these days. Especially, after the whole assassination attempt.

“Not, hah, as good, hah, as yours,” Green panted and leaned forward to catch his breath.

Virgil smirked and shoved him just when he straightened up. He stumbled, caught himself and giggled like a child before he shoved Virgil back. They continued nudging and shoving each other as they walked to the edge of the racetrack and sat down. Virgil had two water bottles taken with him, one for Green and one with a straw for himself. With no comment he shoved the straw under his shawl and drank as Green did the same.

“Is it very hot?” Green asked looking over the training grounds.

Virgil fiddled with the hem of his shawl and stared just in front of himself. He knew what Green was talking about.

“I’m used to it. I know how I have to breath that it doesn’t bother me. Also, the snake has made them give me one which is lighter and easier to breathe through. So, it’s fine.”

In the corner of his eye, he saw Green nod. He shifted and spawled his legs in front of him and leaned back. Something told Virgil that he had dropped the topic and he felt himself ease up a little. He never liked to talk about his face. It was just a sore topic.

To get himself into a better mind space, Virgil decided to focus on something else. Quietly he went through the last few days, over what he had seen and learnt. Frustratingly, not much had come to light about the intruders and all possible points of entry had been guarded thrice as much as before. There had been no new breaches but in the light of King George announcing he would hold a meeting with Logan in two weeks' time, it might only mean that they are waiting for the outcome of said meeting. Logan had invited him for the meeting and offered to meet him at the boarder but the King had insisted of coming to Theana and meeting Logan there in person. While that meant a lot of preparations and much more nightshifts for Janus, it lightened Virgil’s worries immensely. Like this he knew that there was top security with no intention of harming their king or prince.

Green shifted next to him, pusing one leg under his butt and leaning forwards as he looked down to the green grass. He let his hands run through the single blades and smiled.

Two days prior Virgil had seen him for the first time together with Patton. The boy had excitedly run up to him when they were questioning a farrier. The second when he had spotted Virgil, he had stopped and almost toppled over because of his sudden halt.

Virgil was used to the reaction; many people were scared of his appearance and he did not expect this little child to be any different. And yet, when Green called for him, the boy had come closer and had watched Virgil carefully. Shyly, he hid behind Green’s leg and gave him a curt wave.

“He’s not dangerous, kid. You can say hi,” Green said to him in a voice so warm it could have melted butter.

And to Virgil’s surprise the boy came out of hiding and actually said hi to him. And after he had said hi awkwardly back and almost died of pureness this kid radiated when he smiled at him, Green had praised Patton fondly for being so nice and brave with a stranger.

Virgil wasn’t quite sure if encouraging this kid to talk to strangers was a great idea, but at the same time he could see how much Green cared and how close this boy was to him. He talked and acted like a father around him and in Virgil’s mind that rised a few questions.

Green did look quite unassuming in his white tunic and the brown trousers but he had an air of strength and might around him, which was hardly deniable. And yet he gave himself as a simple man who just liked feeling the grass on his skin.

“You like to get dirty,” Virgil stated.

Green looked up and with no hesitation responded: “Oh honey, you haven’t seen anything dirty of me until you have seen me in bed.”

Immediately, Virgil swatted him in the arm and Green cackled loudly at the way the tips of Virgil’s ears flushed. He was close to simply get up and walk away but did not do so as the curiosity was too big. He really wanted to know what Green’s secrets might be.

“No, seriously now!” Virgil insisted and punched him again for good measure. “Why do you enjoy the ground work so much? Most soldiers don’t mind getting a bit dirty and all, but you seem to thrive in it.”

Green chuckled and scratched his chin. It was stubbly and the moustache didn’t look nearly as well kept and pristine anymore as it had when Virgil had met Green for the first time. And yet somehow Virgil found that the work seemed to make him look happier and more alive than before.

“It’s gonna sound strange to you,” Green admitted after a few moments while looking over the training court, “but I didn’t get to get messy all that often as a kid. I couldn’t go outside and sit in the grass or role around in the fields. I was – preoccupied with other things. So, this is like a second chance for me and I’m having the time of my life doing this, quite frankly.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, I know it’s weird, you don’t have to rub it in, Brooding Beauty-”

“I didn’t- Brooding Beauty? I – What?” Virgil stammered at the nick name.

Again, Green chuckled and Virgil was considering to just walk away again. Yet he decided against it and took a deep breath before he looked down to his knees. It was always on his mind. Always something that kept his thoughts moving and one of the few things he could not talk about with Janus.

“You need to swear that this is going to stay between us, man.”

The rustling of the grass next to him told Virgil that Green had straightened his back and was now watching him closely. Somehow it felt familiar.

“Prince Roman said something along those lines when we first met.”

The wind was blowing his hair away from his eyes. Not far away from them he could hear the carriages being pulled around, people walking and talking. And yet there was no sound that could have given away Green’s presence next to him.

“I – I thought. I mean it’s said that he met you when you interrupted his carriage on his way to Sictes because you were chasing away some sheep thieves? When would the prince have had the time to say something like I just said?”

Virgil smiled. He looked up to the sky. The sky was a steely blue, no clouds but no clear sunlight either. It was like had been on that day.

He had run after the thieves because they had taken a lamb and he wanted to bring it back to its mother. On his chase he had crossed the road and apparently startled the horses on the prince’s carriage. He hadn’t even noticed as he ran through the underbrush. His focus was solely on the two men in front of him and as suddenly arrow after arrow was raining down on them. He barely caught himself from being hit as well. On was pinned against a tree as the other got hit in side and stumbled, dropping the poor lamb. Quickly, Virgil had shot forward and caught it barely before it could run away and possibly get lost mercilessly in the thick forest.

“And who might you be? Another thief? What are you doing chasing those buffoons?”

Virgil shivered. The voice was unmistakable and the tone harsh and cutting. He lifted his gaze, cradling the little animal closer to his chest and watched of all the people who he could have come across in the forest no other than Caroline Leto. A woman, no taller than 5 feet 2, black hair pulled back in a ponytail, greenish tunic and pants blending in perfectly in the background, a short bow in her hands which was pointed directly at Virgil’s forehead.

Even if Virgil had wanted, he could not utter a single word in that very moment, as someone crashed against his back from behind.

“Prince Roman had gotten out of the carriage the second it had halted completely,” Virgil continued to tell and finally looked up from his knees to meet Green’s gaze full of wonder. “He had spent more than a decade in the castle and it had been all too much. Too much of his parents, his responsibilities and his fate. He needed to get out, which was why he had agreed to the journey in the first place. So, when something happened that felt new and like an adventure to him, he didn’t hesitate for a single second. He got out to chase us, and out ran his guards with ease. I almost fell over when he crashed into me but caught myself and then helped steady him. I remember how he looked up at me, I think my – uh my scarf had moved down a bit and it caught his eyes. He didn’t look at me like other people did, with fear and disgust and all that. But with awe. And then he looked to the queen. And you know what he did then?”

Breathlessly Green said: “Did he smile at her?”

“That bloody bastard smiled at the so called ice queen and told her that her aim was amazing. She just raised an eyebrow and was about to threaten the both of us and he just kept being charming and friendly towards her. He stood in front of me to shield me from her arrow. And that had her finally convinced to lower her weapon and look at him more closely. I think she at first hadn’t recognized him, and only now realized who he might be. Since, you know, the Thea family hadn’t attended any public event in over a decade, so most people didn’t actually know how Prince Roman looked like as a grownup.”

Virgil paused for a moment, the flash of clarity in Queen Caroline’s eyes rushing through his mind. It was an image for the ages.

“She was surprised and said to him that she hadn’t imagined their first meeting to take place in a forest like this. And Prince Roman laughed and said he didn’t think so either but that he enjoyed it far more than a stiff and cold thrown room. And then they just chatted for a bit. As if no one hadn’t threatened the other with a short bow a mere moment ago. I was dumbstruck and couldn’t say anything, when Prince Roman asked me if I could help them getting the two thieves to his carriage so they could be dealt with in the next town. I just grabbed one and the prince took the other as Queen Caroline followed us and reminded the two thieves that they couldn’t flee anywhere with her weapon. They were then put in the carriage and Roman took one of the horses of his men as the Queen took another. They escorted me with the lamb back to its herd and asked me to come with them to the next village. On the way to there, I was walking next to Prince Roman and quietly listened to him and the queen talk. She was rather cordially and smiled quite a bit when she heard him speak. She praised his astute eye for her aiming skill and asked him if he didn’t mind that his clothing had gotten all dirty and ripped. And there it was when I heard the prince say that he didn’t mind his clothes getting soiled.”

“Muddy and ripped clothes are proof that one has walked the world, are proof that one lives and experiences things. They are testament to our lives and I until now I have been kept in a pristine little cage behind glass panes which kept all weather and wear away from me.”

Minutes of silence followed. Virgil didn’t mind. He could think that Green was letting that information slowly settle in his mind.

“You care for him.”

Green looked over to Virgil with wide eyes. Virgil stared back and continued: “J said that at first he thought you didn’t like Prince Roman, as you tried everything to avoid meeting him. But seeing how you act around him, after Prince Roman telling me himself that you were nothing but kind to him, I now see that J miscalculated. You care about him far more than you would like to admit. And I don’t know why but I am grateful for it.”

Green swallowed.

“You are?”

“I am, yes. He can need all the help and protection he can get. He’s can have a terrifyingly low sense of self preservation. J always says it runs in the family,” Virgil said and pulled his eyebrows up.

Green cleared his throat and laughed half-heartedly. With a grunt he stood up and Virgil did the same. It was time for them to continue with their day and get around to check the guard stations for unusual sightings.

***

I can go.

█████ was pacing around in his room. He knew it was the smart thing to do. He knew Roman was a better diplomat than him and he had a better way with words than him. It made sense to send him on this mission and not go himself or send Logan or Janus.

But Roman was his only ███████. He was the only one left in his family and letting him go for the very first time ever was not as easy as Janus and Logan made it out to be. Especially, not now. Not when he wanted to ask Logan-

“You wanted to see me?”

Roman had entered █████’s chamber. He was already wearing his outfit for the journey to Sictes and █████’s heart ached. Slowly, he turned around and closely looked him over. He looked cleaner and more put together than █████ himself did. He reminded him more and more of their Roman’s mother.

“Aww, look at fancy you!” █████ said teasingly but the wetness sparkling in his eyes betrayed him.

Roman sighed and walked up to him. They looked at each other for a moment and eventually █████ lifted his arms a little while shooting Roman a pleading look. Roman easily complied and pulled him into a hug.

The whole situation was hard on Roman as well. In all those years they never had left their homeland nor left each other's side for a whole month. This was new and scary for both of them but it had to be done. Roman had promised to help █████ as well as he could in his times of needs.

“I have to go, ███. You know I need this,” Roman mumbled into █████’s neck and he felt him pressing him even harder against his chest.

“I know,” █████ mumbled back before he finally let them part from the hug. “I know you have to. This place always haunted you more than me. And I’m glad I don’t have to deal with Caroline.”

Roman could not help himself but snickered at the comment and shoved █████ in the shoulder. They laughed for a moment before █████ guided them towards the sitting area and sat down with him on the divan. They remained quiet for a short while, just relenting their own thoughts and enjoying the other’s presence.

“You are sure you can do this, right?” █████ said in a small voice.

Roman bit his lips and took █████’s hand. He squeezed it, let go and signed: “I’ll be fine.”

Around █████ he dared to not talk and sign as much as he pleased and █████ was glad that Roman still felt comfortable enough around him to do that.

A tap on █████’s shoulder. He looked over. Roman signed concerned: “Will you be fine?”

He took a deep breath and folded his hands in his lap. Would he be fine? There was Janus. He was like a brother to █████ at this point. He knew so well what was going on in his head, could predict so easily what others deemed to be unpredictable about █████. He would take care of Roman. He had promised so and █████ knew he would do anything to keep that promise.

And then there was of course Logan. Logan, who had accepted the position as his Military Advisor at first, later also the title of his International Relationships Advisor and even as his Council for the Education System. Logan, who was loyal, smart and lovely. Logan, who had begun to flirt back three years ago. Logan, who had finally kissed him the first time two years ago. Logan, who had told him that he loved him right after that first kiss.

“I think, I will be fine...” █████ said with a smile on his lips and he took something out of his pocket.

Roman watched as █████ fiddled with a box and suddenly realized what it was. He inhaled sharply and █████ looked up to him, his hands tightening their grip around the box.

“You’ll ask him?” Roman said breathlessly and stared at the little box.

█████ simply nodded and exchanged a look with Roman. They hadn’t been together for a long time. The burden Logan would have to carry as part of the royal family was huge and no one knew that better than them. They had lost their Roman’s parents because of that burden.

And yet Logan made █████ happy. Roman could see it every time they spoke together and, in every moment, when they managed to catch a glimpse of the other during meetings. They gave each other a safe place to retreat and a strong shoulder to lean on on bad days.

Roman began to grin and put his hand over █████’s to stop him from clenching his fist anymore.

“It’s about time. He’s certainly eager to finally spend every night with you!” Roman joked.

█████ simply grinned at the comment and fiddled a little more with the box. On other days he would have complimented Roman’s slightly suggestive jab but right now he was simply too nervous to do so.

“We both know that he will say yes. There’s no need for you to be nervous,” Roman reassured him as █████ didn’t say anything else.

█████ huffed and shook his head still staring at the box in his hands.

“I know,” █████ said bitterly, “he will. But – This is going to be so much on him and I – I’m thinking of making it even harder for him, Ro.”

Roman blinked and █████ looked at him seriously. They had the same thought.

“In case of your death you want him to become king in my stead, don’t you?”

█████’s lips were pressed together in a thin line and Roman let out a long breath. Then he let out a laugh and leaned his shoulder against █████’s side.

“He makes a better king than both of us combined me, ███. I’m not going to fight you on this. If anything, I’ll encourage it even,” Roman told him softly before he fixed █████’s unruly bangs.

█████ let Roman fuss over his hair some more. He truly had inherited their Roman’s mother’s elegance and warmth and █████ tried to indulge in it as long as he could until Roman would undoubtfully have to leave. And he knew that Roman indulged in it as well.

***

The rest of the day was rather uneventful. Nothing new had been seen and they had to head back as empty handed as in the last few days. Green was quieter during all of it and Virgil was questioning himself if it had been something that he had said this day when Green suddenly started to talk on their way towards his quarters.

“What gave you the idea that I care about the prince? What of my behaviour gave it away?” he asked rather quietly.

For a moment Virgil mused and then replied: “I think it’s a bit the same behaviour you show around the boy; you soften your tone and have the patience of a saint. Frankly, I think it’s your fatherly side that is coming through.”

The steps next to Virgil stopped abruptly. He stopped immediately as well and turned to see Green’s mortified face. His breath hitched, sweat started to build up on his brows. Virgil did not hesitate and after a short “Can I touch you?” which was answered with a nod, he pulled Green away from the street into the little room he called his. Slowly, so very slowly Virgil managed to get Green grounded again as he told him how to breath and had him drink two glasses of water. The first one he almost completely spilled due to his shaking hands but the contents of the second glass made it almost completely into his mouth.

Several minutes later, after the panting and shivering from Green had subdued Virgil sat down next to him on the bed. Green let himself fall backwards on the bed and Virgil watched him closely. To his surprise Green’s eyes met his and were clearer than he had expected them to be after such an intense stress reaction.

“What on earth gave you the idea that I could be a father?”

Virgil furrowed his brows.

“I told Janus that I didn’t have anything to do with kids-” Green spoke further but Virgil cut him off.

“J asked you if you worked with kids. At least that’s what he told us and that’s not the same thing as being a dad and the way you treat Patton reminds me of how J’s father treats kids. He is like the only good reference I have for a father figure and you check all the boxes. Sorry, I assumed wrong. Didn’t think you’d freak out that much but, uh, sorry, it’s – it’s fine! You don’t have to tell me anything about this. I was out of line.”

Green had closed his eyes. He threw his arm over his face and only his mouth was visible now. He began to grin bitterly.

“We were trying.”

It had been so quiet that Virgil had almost missed it. Almost. But he heard and his mind was racing.

These three words told him so much more about the mystery man than he had ever expected to find out. There was a we, a partner of sorts who was close enough to start a family with Green. But this partner was no longer in the picture. But why? How had Green, who fought quicker and harder than most people he had ever met, lost this partner?

And more importantly, how did Green cope with such a loss on his own? Looking at his still body, at the tenseness in his arms and the forced smile on his lips he wasn’t dealing well.

With a broken voice Virgil mumbled: “I’m so sorry, dude…”

A snort.

“Whatever for, Gloom and Doom? You’re not the one who took him from me. Took my life… It’s fine. Don’t tell Janus, the prince and especially not the king. They’ve got better things to worry about. They shouldn’t waste their time on some stupid no one, who is dealing with things that can no longer be changed. It’s fine.”

He lifted his arm and sat up.

His eyes darted down to his feet.

He lifted his gaze and met eyes with Virgil again. A little smile, sincere yet small.

“But for what it’s worth,” Green said and put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “thanks for thinking I’d be a good dad. Didn’t think I’d ever turn out to be good enough for that.”

___

Link for AO3, Taglist, Masterlist, and next Chapters are in my first reblog!

#intrulogical #remus sanders #virgil sanders #background romantic anaroceit #janus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #fantasy au #Never Met You #theft #suggestive language #nothing too harsh but there's remus I guess?#eir writes #please reblog

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plathski · 3 years

Text

Blue

A/N: this is for the @queendomsecretsanta and @thenicestnonbinary. happy holidays!

Word count: 1,988

TWs: Death.

Cathy could vividly recall the exact moment she heard that her husband had passed away.

She had just put her foot into the palace after taking a half hour long stroll around the palace’s garden. It was a beautiful day, with no clouds in the beautiful light blue sky, and she had been feeling a bit erratic lately due to the stress that was caused by the king being sick, so she decided that was the best thing she could do to take everything off her mind, even if the relaxation only lasted for a few fleeting moments.

“Catherine!”

Before she could even blink, Anne Herbert, her lady in waiting, was directly in front of her, her petrified dark brown eyes piercing her soul.

“..what? What’s wrong?” The queen had inquired, her mind racing with possibilities what could have gotten her friend so scared.

The explanation hit her like a ton of bricks.

“King Henry’s dead!”

Most of the day after that moment was a complete blur to her. She was whisked into her and the king’s bedroom, where she was surrounded by many important members of the court.

She found a chair right at his bedside and sat herself down in it.

She truly didn’t know how she felt as she stared at Henry’s cold, lifeless face. The sounds of quiet sobbing from all the familar faces in the room were interrupting her thoughts.

The guilt she had from it was immense, but the word she thought best described her feelings was relief.

Of course, her husband’s death was surely a tragedy, just like the death of every english royal. But he wasn’t like all the royals before him. He was an angry, miserable, violent lunatic who only cared for himself. If it was possible, she would have him burned at the stake for all the wicked things he’d done throughout his life.

She’d do it for Catherine of Aragon, the woman he kicked to the curb without a second thought. She’d do it for Anne Boleyn, the one he bastardized and beheaded all because she couldn’t give him a son. She’d do it for Jane Seymour, who was dead because Henry valued the idea of having a son more than her life. She’d do it for Anna of Cleves, who he humilated and ostracized. And she’d do it for Katherine Howard, who got her childhood ripped away from her.

But she could never do that, for although she was the queen of England, she was powerless compared to him.

Oh well, he was dead now, it didn’t matter anymore. At least he would never hurt anyone ever again.

“I...I have to go.” She murmured to Anne, standing up slowly with a emotionless expression on her face.

“Of course, Catherine.”

The queen left the bedroom, contemplating on where she was to go from here.

What use was there for the widow of a king, anyway?

The funeral was held just under a month later.

Catherine wore a stunning black dress that was designed by the country’s finest tailors. It was costumized with a dark blue sapphire embroidered right under the collar, with matching beeds hanging from the hem.

Even after her husband’s passing, she still had to look her best.

For hours, she sat in the oriel window of the former queen Catherine of Aragon, watching speeches be given by court members, listening to the sobs of the mourning citizens, forcing herself to hear people praising the king...

It all almost drove her mad.

Henry didn’t deserve to be remembered with affection and grace. He was a tyrant, for christ’s sake! He shouldn’t be given sympathy, he should be shamed and looked down upon, just like all villains are. He took everything for himself, he didn’t care about his children, and he hurt all his wives...

...he didn't hurt her, though.

Throughout his entire life, Henry had been nothing but ruthless to the ones he married. He left Catherine of Aragon behind when he found a woman that he loved more, he beheaded Anne Boleyn all because she couldn't bore him a son, Jane Seymour had to give away her life so he could have a heir to the throne, he had Anna of Cleves come to England from German only to degrade her for her appearance, and he sentenced Katherine Howard to death when she was only 19.

And she had merely outlived him.

She was the only one to have come out unscathed, a surviving soldier upon his fallen friends, and she would have to live with the crushing weight of that for the rest of her live.

“Catherine?”

“What is it, Anne?”

“There’s someone waiting for you at the palace door.”

The former queen sighed, letting her shoulders slump. Today had been exhausting, and she had an extremely busy day tomorrow. Who could possibly be wanting to see her now?

“Is something wrong, your majesty?”

“No, I’m fine.” Cathy answered, waving a dismissive hand at her lady in waiting. “I’ll go attend to my visitor right now.”

Anne nodded, and walked out of the doorframe and down the hallway, the clicking of her heels echoing throughout the area.

Catherine swiftly rummaged through her closet until her she found her midnight blue cloak. Then, she threw it on over her white nightgown and pulled the hood over her curly dark brown hair before scurrying out of her bedroom.

As she dashed down the halls of the palace, she couldn’t help feel a sense of nostalgia. As dreadful as the time she had lived there had been, she had called it home for nearly four years, and tomorrow, she was moving out. Where? She didn’t know yet, as her servants had set a place up for her, but were keeping it a secret, so it must’ve been just right for her.

As she strolled down the marble staircase and entered the main hall, she thought about what her future could look like. She wanted to live in a cottage somewhere in the outskirts of Berkshire, away from the public eye. Though she was sure her servants had different plans, it was still a comforting thought. After all that she had been through, she just wanted to live out the rest of her days in peace.

At last, after what felt like an eon of reminiscing as she walked, she finally reached the two large, mahogany doors that led to the garden. The mysterious guest was awaiting her arrival on the other side, whoever they were.

She wrapped her fingers around the two golden handles on them, and pushed them open.

She then walked outside, and felt her heart soar when she saw who her visitor was.

There, standing a few feet ahead of her, his face illuminated by the bright moon shining thousands of feet above, wearing a shy smile, was-

“...Thomas?”

“You didn’t think I’d leave you behind, did you?”

Catherine rushed into her former husband’s arms, joyous tears filling her eyes as she let out a joyous laugh.

She truly was coming home.

The last months of Catherine’s life were the happiest ones.

Four months after she moved out of the palace and into a tiny house in downtown London, she had a secret, private wedding, in which she married her one true love, Thomas Seymour. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t tell anyone besides her close family members, as a marriage so soon after Henry’s death would surely cause a scandal. But as long as she could live with Thomas, she was happy.

Since she wasn’t the queen of England anymore, she had a lot of time on her hands, and she used most of that time to write. She sat in her study for hours, scribbling out little words in ink onto her paper. Words that spoke of love, wisdom, liberation, among hundreds and hundreds of other topics. There was practically nothing that could stop her from writing.

Except for one thing.

August 30th, 1548, was the happiest day of her life. That day was the day that she met her beautiful little girl, Mary Seymour. She’ll never forget how happy she felt when she was handed little Mae, how the little bundle of joy that was sitting on her chest reached her tiny arms out to her and giggled...

She took care of Mae for as long as she could, which was unfortunately only a mere four months. After all, nothing lasts forever.

“I’m sorry, my love...” “For what?” “For not doing anything.” “Don’t apologize, Thomas. Things like this are in the hands of fate...”

Catherine laid in what she knew was her soon to be deathbed, Thomas at her side. In his arms was Mae, her innocent brown eyes staring right at her mother.

No one knows for sure what happened, but sometime after her daugther’s birth, the former queen fell ill. She brushed it off, assuming that it was just a cold that would fade away in the coming weeks.

Weeks turned into months, and now she was here, barely able to raise her voice above a whisper.

This was so unfair. She was supposed to live a happy, mostly private life with her husband and her daugther. She was supposed to get her writings published and prove herself to be one of the greatest writers of the century. She was supposed to watch Mae grow up and become a strong, beautiful woman.

Her life wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Then, just as she could feel the energy start to drain away from her body, an idea struck her.

“T-thomas.”

“Yes, dear?” The man in question asked, his voice filled with remorse.

“....p-publish my writings for me.” She uttered, using the last bit of strength she had to squeeze Thomas’ hand.

He nodded, smiling as tears spilled down his cheeks. “Of course.”

He knew just as well as her that it was time.

She was exhausted, and the room seemed to be getting quite dark.

“...farewell...”

Her dark brown eyes closed, and her hand fell, hitting the royal blue carpet.

She was at peace at last.

Well, for five hundred years, at least.

Cathy sat in the kitchen of the queen’s flat, typing out an email to her publisher. Computers were such a pain to use, she was lucky if she made a full sentence with no spelling errors.

It was just one of the many things that she had to get accustumed to in the modern world.

That didn’t mean modern life was bad. In fact, she much preferred it over her former life. No more wearing several hundred coats of makeup, easy and fast transportation, quicker ways of communication such as texting and calling, no risk of getting beheaded by the goverment...

And of course, there was Six.

Six was the best thing that had ever happened to her. It meant feminism, love, strength, all the things that she thought were essential. Though Six, she had connected with her fellow queens and bonded with them over the struggles of living in a man’s world. They could finally tell their stories and find happiness and peace within themselves.

All she needed was Six.

And of course, she didn’t go a day without thinking about Mae and Thomas. The grief of losing them loomed over her, like a pesky raven that just wouldn’t leave her alone. But they were still there with her, through the laughter and the tears, through the singing and the dancing, through the living and the loving.

They were there with her in her heart, and that was just enough for her.

She clicked the ‘send’ button on the email, and stood up from the dark blue chair as she fiddled with the hem of her navy blue t-shirt, and walked out of the kitchen, making sure to grab her sky blue water bottle.

Why did everything always seem so blue?

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dropsofletters · 4 years

Text

to the man who broke my heart

title: to the man who broke my heart pairing: yoo kihyun/reader genre: runaway!au/1990’s!au/friends with benefits!au/rich kids!au summary: behind flashing cameras and news articles, people don't realize the emotional pressure and stress celebrities, from any industry, go through. that's something she has bonded about with yoo kihyun, co-owner of a business just like herself, seeking for power in other forms rather than money. the only way they can commit to their dreams, however, is by running away from such a world. will they be able to withstand the idea of being out of the public? type: angst/fluff/romance/suggestive word count: 9,799

The nineties are so posh, so sufficiently cocky that it would leave anyone with a bitter taste on their mouths. The upstanding point of friendships, of growth, of ambition, of leaving nostalgia behind for more futuristic beings. People cared so much that they stopped caring, earning this fashionable yet futuristically invasive mindset that, on the long run, will be an issue to society.

For anyone but the ones with the riches in the world, whose nine-to-five jobs consist of socialite invitations and whom will only grow stronger with their exclusive clubs, their bright and enigmatic personas that will always be a societal rule. Those who have money never get old, never run out of this je ne se quoi people desire to have—it only heightens if that person is good to the public eye, a role model of sorts.

This life is so easy. Her life is so easy. For the love of absolute money, she gets to have one of the best cars of the decade, a porsche that sits at the front of her favorite lounge, heels clicking against the pavement as the welcoming of her entrance, not even sparing the security guard a second glance when she finally enters her desired Saturday-night spot. To be honest, it’s not really simple to live a life like this—so superficial, immensely so, to the point she feels a little bit dizzy simply from stepping inside and hearing the infamous tune of a popular band playing, the rock, grunge-y tone what is in fashion nowadays.

From Mondays to Fridays, people imagine her to be certain way. In light of feminine power opening up to society as a norm, rather normality, it is still quite strange how magazines about the richest of individuals in the country, heck, even internationally, portray her as this gal of fashion, like a makeup enthusiast or an actress. Anyone who didn’t know her would never guess that, while still pretty young and definitely guided by a manager, certain staff to keep her on check, she invests rather than socialize. The usual concept that people misunderstand in such a place, her localities treating her like another blank dot in the famous environment.

You just have to be stupid.

Everyone thinks that is all it consists about. You have to entertain, give a little bit of drama, with the tiniest bit of professionalism, with an apology here and a rumor there and there you have it: the rich lifestyle.

Someone like Yoo Kihyun understands, along with her, that there is more to that statement.

This lounge—rather, this nightclub, everything is so relaxed nowadays (or pretends to be) that she has to call it that way, is their current meeting spot. In between seas of people dancing together, some wearing pointless sunglasses, loose fitted shirts, others standing on tables and yet a handful of people eating from those same tables indicates that she has gotten there at its peak in time. It’s easy to figure out where Kihyun may be, in all his delightfully alluring glory. Someone like him was crafted from all the wrecked pieces of the world, taking the most stunning of diamonds and the poise of the ocean to create him. Him, whom in some way or another gravitated towards her. Him, who understood the complexity of being part of a world and yet, being so far away from it. There is a difference between the owners of the circus and the ones who get to display their talents, yet, it’s ever a rarity to not put them together.

From the first moment she saw him, three years ago in 1991, she knew she’d fall for him. The type of falling that comes with being bored, with having too much time to spare and too many thoughts to get cherished by. If fame is a drug, daydreaming can count as one, too. At the time, his black hair had fell over his forehead romantically, eyes going upper and upper—no, even higher than the sky itself to create constellations with that smile of his, the one that rounds his cheeks, makes the tip of his nose more prominent and his heart less unreachable. He is a man that could be played with...if ignorance takes the best of you and you dismiss his intelligence, his strictfulness, his nature that says:

I’ll do what I want, when I want, because I want.

At the time, it was not a party. Hell, at the time her investments were not even as big as now, and yet, they had grown together. All they could have spoken about then was the growth of the telephonic industry after this decade, how the world seems to rotate more in socialties now that it has developed. A friend of a friend of a friend sort of thing, this is how the world sells. His intelligence had captured her, because past business he sees the world as an experiment. How long will it take until everyone lose their essence to be the copy to the neighbor, who is also a copy of someone else.

Kihyun believes in cycles, in routines, that is why they meet in that nightclub every single Saturday night, eight twenty-two on the dot and instead of dancing, he is simply in the corner, giving her that infamous smile from afar, like he really means to give a serious meaning to them later on in life.

He will, actually, he seems like the type—she is an investor of car companies, surely growing stronger and definitely a huge name that goes around far too much for anyone’s liking. Kihyun is developing cell phones, creates new pieces that only get better with time. He says ten years from now, he’ll get even more innovative. As of now, reuniting and pretending to be friends is easier, mainly because they have so much to lose. People like them do not get magazine covers, they don’t get to be called ‘the new Winona Ryder and Johnny Depp’, they are simply compared.

Who’s richer?

Who’s stronger?

Whose career is bound to finish easier?

This time around, cladded in a black sweater, she moves faster to get to the spot beside him, but just in time before she would sit down, she feels his hand gliding across her back, absentmindedly igniting her skin with trembles when he caresses the small bit that trails down her back in this pink cropped sweater of hers. The weather is cold, not cold enough to not feel put-together for once. He brings her closer, half sitting on the comfortable chair and half seated on his thigh, his fingers pointing at the TV screen not too far ahead with a gullible smile on his face. Whatever got Kihyun to smile like a little kid really must have amused him.

“Look at that.” But how does she look at anything else but him? That is the question, the same one she asks herself when she doesn’t permit herself to stay the night with him or when they come to the agreement to wait. Wait until they rot, maybe, but that is far from the point. Instead, she likes to cling to Saturdays, the only day in which Kihyun is not wearing a suit or holding tightly onto his phone. Thus, she does stop looking at him, instead settling her gaze on the TV ahead and trying to catch anything of what the news reporter is saying.

She doesn’t, actually, pretty difficult to do such a thing when everyone is singing along to music, grinding on each other and basically living their lives away for one night. She fixes herself on her seat when she gets to read the headlines, see the pictures that display on the screen just in time for her to scoff. “No way...”

“I can’t actually believe they did it,” Kihyun says, his arm still wrapped around her waist, his voice tickling her shoulder from the fair proximity in between the two. “They actually ran away.”

She gives him a side-eye, though she has to turn her head to look at him, bangs swept to the side softly, falling upon his face ever so slightly. He should use more hairspray, but that is not him—those are the try-hards of this fashion momentum, but not him. “This is so insane.” Two of their friends, a couple to be exact, had bonded with them about the complexity of this life and the toxicity of the public eye that feels like they own celebrities, or socialites, or anyone who dares to show their lives to the masses. This is only heightened in fear when corporations tighten their holds on younger individuals, crafting perfect products, immaculate businesspeople and yet, voids in their hearts. “Props to them. I—They really ran away. People think they are missing, but...do you think they really are missing or left to Barbados like they wanted to?”

“No way. They’ve been talking about leaving for the past few weeks and they said May was their month. Of course they’d leave now. It’s a plan.” Kihyun utters, intelligence in numbers clear as day as he rests his cheek against his palm, letting out a sigh. “...I wonder what that feels like.”

While opening the menu to read over the specials, she hums. “What?”

“Running away.”

“...You could never want such a thing, though.” She tells him, knowing him better than he could ever know himself. Though, he simply leans back on his seat, playing with the straw of his first drink before sighing.

“I know...” He trails and she knows there’s a counterpart to it. “But,” There it is, the initiation of a glimpse of Kihyun’s complicated mindset, yet so enticing. “It’s tiresome. This industry is only getting tougher, more sold, one day there won’t be a line between investments in technology, in music, in theater and plain out illegal stuff.” He answers, something in his eyes completely understandable to her. In this industry, people are obsessed with feeling...and with that, winning. To win, you have to take down any competition. “I don’t ever want to be part of that.”

She nudges his side with her body, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’ll never have to go through that.”

“I hope.” Kihyun breathes out before nodding her way. “Would you want to leave?”

It takes her two seconds. No, even less. She gives him an answer immediately. “Hell yeah.”

“That was quick.”

“It’s because I’ve always thought of it.”

“...I know like 97% of your personal life and I had never heard you say you want to leave.” He whispers close to her, tapping his fingers against the table in some rhythm that matches the song in the background. “Where is this coming from, in your case?”

“It’s more insecurity than anything,” And she is intelligent enough to realize this, pushing the menu down and standing up to go ask for her meal. Something greasy seems about right for this night, leaving her full and yet, satisfied. “I know I'm not...the typical investor. One, I’m a woman. Two, all the articles have dismissed me as one of the least interesting business owners. I’m never going to be one of the Thirty Under Thirty and—” It stings, it hurts, it makes her feel like there is something wrong with her, when in reality all the downsides are part of who she is. Young. A woman. Technically part of a family of interesting, immaculate individuals whom she has to compete with in order to stand out. “I would love to stop being compared to my cousins for a second. I’d love for magazines to stop using me as the stereotype of a successful, yet boring and bland woman on one of those articles of ‘10 ways you’re going to lose your man’ and...” She cuts herself off then, laughing when Kihyun starts to catch her humor. “Really, Kihyun, I’m the picture of the woman that appears on the third way or something. ‘You’re paying much attention to work and less to sex. He’ll get bored of you’. This bullshit of a society really gets me, because the public and our business-people are equally as draining, let me tell you.”

“Just, stop—” He chuckles, shaking his head along to her words. “You...okay, that’s not going to make you lose any man.”

“I’m not interested in who I lose,” She tells him, biting down on her bottom lip after shrugging. “I’m more of a ‘who-I-keep’ kind of person.”

“Bossy.”

“The boss, yes.” She replies, though she breaks character fairly soon. Why is it that there is always this voice biting at her life in the back of her head, telling her to stop pretending? “...Not that I’ll be at this point. My business is owned by four of our generation, my cousins and I and I am the fourth in line. If the other three die, I’ll take their spot.”

“If they don’t realize the gem you are business-wise, I support you completely in running away.” This is just a joke, after all, none of them would ever be able to leave this city, much less leave their businesses behind. They have families to make proud, friends to keep around, money to take care of and people with jobs to help out. They are far too busy to have the fantasy of a romantic vacation.

“Thank you.” Looking to the sides just in case anyone is watching—though, no one cares about others than the fan-based celebrities—, she leans forward to capture his lips in a brief, sweet, almost innocent kiss before smiling at him. “I’m thinking burgers for tonight.”

“It’s on me, then.”

💔

What does a president have to do with a singer? An actor with a robber? What connects the world in every stance of it?

Money.

Money does.

Mocked she feels like when she sits in the middle of this meeting room, people with suitcases and elegant clothing surrounding her, poison in their bloods as the thrive for money. She has been reached by this injection of power, a golden necklace hanging from her neck, resting upon the neckline of her black button down, half opened to give it a casual look. Her hands, obsessed with holding papers in between them to gain another eventful contract, are decorated in equally as golden rings. Everything about her speaks like a product, and it is the same getaway of her destructive mechanism.

Bad, how bad it is that the red lipstick on her only feels like a mask, how she pleads to the world to free her from the curse of money, crafted like a masterpiece, almost like a building that is still under construction. Money is what will burn her one day, and it starts with the simplistic title of betrayal. The people in said room are speaking about the loss of one of their sponsored individuals, exactly in the rap industry—Jooheon had signed his contract off with them, instead siding with Kihyun’s business, leaving them in absolute turmoil. It is easy to lose the youthful demographic if a rapper simply shrugs off some cars for a phone. It means their product, as known as it is, is just another line in the drawing that is the world of businesses.

Eyes are casted upon her, mostly her cousins’, as if glaring at her, knowing of her relationship with Kihyun, the silent love she exudes for the man, always talking about him like grace itself, as if the gods had put all the beauty and wellness of the world on his shoulders. Her long nails glide across the pictures of Jooheon’s appearance in Kihyun’s business new commercial and by her side, she sees the contract that had been signed off, the money he gave them back and for some reason, she swallows thickly.

“We need you to cut ties with Kihyun.” Her oldest cousin says, the first in line, her hair perfectly put-together even in such an early time in the morning. Something about her has always been scary, like she would never give anyone a smile, not even if there was a camera in front of her. “...I don’t want to keep going around the subject. He has only been using you to get closer to our clients and snatch them away.”

But that is impossible. It’s more possible for the sky to burn and dull its light than for Kihyun to even betray her. Poison doesn’t linger on his veins, but he is intelligent. Perhaps, this is just a movement of the bigger beings of his company, not exactly a family-based one, but one of those more experienced CEO’s that help him in bigger decisions. “I doubt he made that decision.” Her mind remains blank, however, trying to defend him in any way possible...but money could cut the fondest of bonds. “Kihyun has like five people before him in his company. I imagine they offered Jooheon more money, for instance, and since Jooheon wants to reach a youthful audience, it is easier to sell a phone than to sell a car—”

“But your job is to sell cars, to invest on them, to earn that money with hard work.” Her cousin continues, tilting her head to the side when she leans forward on the table. “Our sales dropped. We don’t care if Jooheon’s seventeen-year-old fans have money, we care about selling.”

“It’s not the most intelligent of business moves, actually. I told you so before.” She fights back, crossing one leg over the other as if to gain confidence. She doesn’t, almost suffocated under her cousin’s dark stare. “Jooheon may have enough money to buy a car, but we create sports cars. We don’t need Jooheon—”

“And Kihyun does?”

“Well, a phone is cheaper than a car.”

Her cousin releases a sigh, leaning her forehead against the table and pointing at one of her workers to speak for her. “Miss, we need you to cut ties with Kihyun. Sponsors and investors will be immensely turned off by our offers if we make them lose money.”

“We still have other sponsors in the celebrity industry, though.” She defends, knowing well that there is one person that keeps her same in the world of the movement of money. The only person that sees the fun in this superficial matter, whose movements are not always for socializing but rather to enjoy himself. “We have actor Lee Minho with us. He’s more of franchise, he is older than Jooheon, definitely richer, his fans are older as well...”

Her oldest cousin lifts her body up at that, fingertips wrapping around her hair to keep the strands up and away. However, her frustration is voiced out by the third in line, always sweeter than the boss of the cousins. “Kihyun knew about this,” She starts. “And everyone is aware of your friendship. Paparazzi, socialites, the world knows you two get along well, but we just need a headline.”

“Headline?” Confusion takes over her, folding her hands over her lap, playing with the edge of her shirt. Everything about her life has always been so expensive, so crafted, and seeing the only real thing that stays being pushed away and out of her life is a trigger.

“What she is trying to say.” Her third cousin points towards the first cousin in line for the car company. “She’s meaning to tell you that we need to paint Kihyun as the bad guy. His reputation being tainted by us, using your friendship with him, painting him as a betrayer will only work to our favor. Just imagine it.” She utters, a smile grazing her features, yet it speaks about everything rather than comfort. “Yoo Kihyun’s new personality. Hindsight from our favorite cousins about how the phone-company owner betrayed one of his friends to get to the top.”

Sickening, it feels like, to dress on money-coated clothes, to have all the gold in the world and all the space to live in, even going as far as a spot to die in...and yet, still feel so lonely, so misunderstood. This is the corporation part, the obnoxiously painful part of it all that speaks about stepping harder than others—a dance of flamenco, worth of being applauded thanks to its artistry excellence...significative in the horrendousness of life. “I’m not going to do that.”

“...Then, watch millions burn in the air, people losing their jobs because of you.” The oldest cousin says once again, leaving a bitter taste of her mouth and, for a moment, it’s difficult to even swallow.

“It’s not going to get that far.”

“How do you know?”

“I—Listen, it’s impossible. Jooheon is not an influence to the entire world, it’s the 90’s, there is a solution to this.” She responds, standing up from her spot and running her hands over the expanse of her abdomen, wanting to smooth the fabric there. “What’s with all the money-talk now? We have been doing excellently this year, don’t worry.”

The leader cousin ignores her, crossing her arms over her chest to highlight her poised stance. “I’ll worry. This is the business train, you either get on it or you don’t.”

At the time, she couldn’t come up with a proper response. She was scared. Now, laying down on a hotel bed whilst hoping no paparazzi caught her trace, she thinks of a million outcomes.

How not to feel powerful when he is by her side? In this hotel, like they have always belonged somewhere and it is with the other. Truthfully, Kihyun is not simply just any man, which is why it is not difficult for him to make fire out of water, to turn tears into laughter, into passion, absolute tranquility with this burning, heated desire to be stronger. Miniscule beings do not exist in Kihyun’s language and though his height is something people mock him for, he finds his strength as a person to be gigantic. That is...until someone tears him to shreds.

Kihyun is not only the man that has glided his hands across the skin of her thighs in search for her heart. He is not only a scientist that has played with the hormones of love in order to get her tranced. He’s not only a coworker, of sorts, a man that knows the life she lives—Kihyun is that one guy who has seen her bare, not only in body but in soul, the one person that understands she will never be part of this life. She loves the money, the pleasantries, the feeling of leather on the back of her thighs as long as she is not wearing a skirt...and he opens her mind to new hindsights. Technology is not at its peak, but once it is, she’ll be happy to be part of this revolutionary stance.

“I am scared,” She admits, playing with his hands that rest on her abdomen and lord, how stupid it is that she wishes—for now—that Kihyun would hold a ring on his finger that would claim him as hers, even just a piece of him. She wants to be a bond to bound there, a connection that makes this feel more believable to her cousins. All the anxiety of being part of the famous world, as often as she gets compared to others, has only been heard by him. “They told me I had to come up with some drama between us this week. If not, they are just telling the world. I have no say in what comes next.”

“Fuck.” Kihyun breathes out, sitting up on the bed before turning to look at her. “Money is really out here to destroy humanity, isn’t it?”

She squints her eyes at that, staring ahead while lost in her thoughts. “I wish I could be stronger than money.”

“You are to me.” He says, pressing a fleeting kiss to her lips to get her back to reality. “Even if you want, you’ll never be quite as toxic and powerful as money.”

“You like money...and you like me, what’s the difference?”

Kihyun’s lips quirk up at that, bad in the good, looking like a dream, even when the golden lights of the hotel help him achieve that look. Or is it the love she feels for him? Though not unrequited, also not voiced out. “...It’s different, I don’t know how, but it is. I know you won’t kill me in the end, for one.” He tells her, pushing the covers off his body before extending his hands. “God, I wish...I wish we could do something.”

“You know, it would be amazing to pick up our bags and leave somewhere. Somewhere we can be...you know, young, like we have to be.” She pushes, sitting up with excitement on the bed. Her eyes are glistening, almost white, like the thirst for money is now craving freedom. “We’d be able to have all the facilities...but it would hurt them. It would remind my cousins and your upper businessmen that we are worth it, we are not some youth call for magazines to talk about. We aren’t based on predictions—”

Kihyun runs his fingers through his damp hair, the shower he took just a few minutes ago memory of how he was not alone in there, either. Something about him is complicated now, almost unreachable. “You want to run away?”

“Why not?” She asks, shrugging her shoulders with a soft smile on her face. “I want to feel like I am not a product to consume for once.”

“...It sounds insane.” Kihyun shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest while deep in thought. “We have worked so hard to be part of corporations. Now we want to be freed from just that.”

“We are not as important as them, Kihyun!” She exclaims, an ironic smile on her features. Money, money, everyone wants it, to the point lust could never compare to power money has. It causes wars, fights, divorces, it leaves families alone and friendships asking for help. Money gives materialistic things, fakes to be your friend until it kills you. If the paper-money could smile, it would, all those dead figures of history giving their souls to immortality all in the name of money. Oh, what a fake pride, money speaks more than any mystical being could. “We will be trashed if...we give them time. It’s so scary, I have also given my life away for this.” Her breathing quickens at that. “We have so much money to spend, to save, to use to live...why don’t we show it ho much we don’t care about it?”

“We do care about it, though. It’s all we have known.” He argues with her, though softly, knowing that they were both raised in extremely wealthy families, counting paper from the moment they were children. “Leaving that behind is difficult. Once we run out of money, it’s over.”

“We just have to be mindful of it. Our life is not over if we just have a bit less.” She tells him, jumping a bit on the bed, mattress wiggling under her weight. “Imagine how beautiful it would be! We’d finally have heaven on Earth, we’ll be stronger than we have ever been!” She doesn’t realize power is speaking here, the strength of love and admiration for the person in front of her—the same one who could leave her side if only the fake news her cousins are planning do get out. They will if she doesn’t try. “You have said before that you would love to run away.”

“For a week or two, not my entire life.” Kihyun whispers, biting down on his bottom lip before clearing his throat. “Though, I’ll have to disappear from your life if your cousins go through with their plan.”

When nearing him, she opens the gates of heaven to him, resting her hands over his shoulders and searching for his face. After all, she wants him, but she doesn’t want to make him miserable just to make herself happy. “Hey...even if I leave, you don’t have to leave with me. I’m just saying...since we are both involved in this, we could leave for a while and live off our own money. Even...the company’s, but that is if we’re looking for revenge and being criminals.” She tries to make him laugh, a brief breathy chuckle released from his lips.

“Do you have a place in mine?”

“...I want to go big.” She replies, fluttering her eyelashes almost romantically. “But it’s up to you to follow me or not. Really, I won’t get mad.”

“I could try it out for a few weeks.” Kihyun answers, almost tranced by the idea of not caring of the world that surrounds him for a second. Egotistic, partially the benefits of being rich, the priviledge clouding all their judgement. “Let’s take a flight after this. Let’s leave.”

She gasps at that, almost a bit dramatically, but hearing that from Kihyun means business. It means certainty. “Are you serious? Are we really leaving?”

“For a bit. Just that. Let’s see how we do being irreponsible for once.” He replies, staring at her eyes for a second before grabbing her cheek and pinching it delicately. “If I try this, I want it to be with you.”

Money doesn’t matter, burn it all, if that means having Kihyun there for her.

What an atrocious mentality.

💔

It glistens under the lights of the night, passing through the windows of a taxi, yellow, bright, like the start of their first night finally being free. The previous one had consisted of sleeping, giggly after a late-night conversation, jet-lagged and confused as to where they stand, where they live, what they have done with nothing left behind, other than some of their material beings—parts of them that they can earn back. She has never felt quite as close to Kihyun as she is now, with his legs parted, dark and ripped jeans perfect for their night out, hand resting on top of her thigh, like he always has to make sure he is by her side. His face looks tranquil when she shows him her black credit card, almost at ease, because this is what they are used to: runaways and yet so fitting into the rich world.

Living with Kihyun seems to be easy now, like any demon has cleared the world for it to leave in peace, the upbeat tone of Snoop Dogg song playing in the background, legs crossed over the other to showcase her pretty yellow dress, not snug but still loose enough for it to feel free. This is what they finally are, god, it’s such a beautiful word to say. Free, like birds. Free, like a song. Free, free, free.

“With this, we’re going to give Tommy a visit.” She speaks softly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her air just in time to have Kihyun laughing at her antics. “What? It’s our first night here...and we can spend our money whichever way we want. Let’s bu Carolina Herrera perfumes, and Tommy Hilfiger clothes. Let’s ask for a Ferrari and compete against my own company. Let’s—” Her fingertips wrap around his phone, the one that rests on his bag stupidly, big and blocky. “Let’s get rid of your brand. Nokia sounds about right, trendy even.”

Kihyun’s eyebrows quirk up at that, taking the card from her hands and she imagines him that he is going to say it is alright. After all, Kihyun lives for his own will and if she had been powerful enough to get him to agree to running away from their businesses without saying any word, now staying at another country, she feels like she can get him to spend some...thousands. “Or, we could actually think about what we are spending. Uh, less Nokia and—”

“You are just scared of using Nokia.”

“Are you down to driving a Ferrari?”

“I mean...the leather is terrible,” She answers, scrunching up her nose before laughing. “But we are here to make fun of our brands, labels, whatever has kept us back.” His chapped lips purse up at that, making her sigh when she interlocks their hands together, taking the one that rested on her thigh. They may be friends with benefits, but she is his friend over anything, she knows him better than she likes to admit. “Cheap leather isn’t going to stop me from feeling...like money doesn’t define me.”

“By using money?” Kihyun asks. “I don’t know...I am used to...you know, being a product. Whatever happens after I buy a Nokia will probably ruin my life.” He chuckles, finding amusing the spot he is in right now. “Nokia don’t have as good signal as we do.”

Trailing her eyes up and down his small nose, his perfect lips and his bright eyes, she feels like living this night up as the driver takes them to the best and most expensives stores for them to feel like they have forever to live. “The only person I care to call is you, though.”

“...Huh, you know I don’t like it when you become cheesy.” Kihyun mumbles, letting his fingers fix her hair before huffing against her lips. He wouldn’t kiss her, not here, not when they finally have each other completely. “So, you want us to buy Tommy Hilfiger clothes, get out of here with a Ferrari, use Nokia’s to call people...who we should not even be calling when we’re running away?” She nods her head.

“I’m here for a good time, not a smart one. I have plenty of those.”

“What’s next? We’re going to have Jay Z perform for us personally?”

“Not a bad idea,” She points out, wriggling her finger and laughing when she turns to look at the city lights. In such a city, they are so small, they do not matter all that much, much less do they belong to an elite that will put pressure over them. They are a duo, the high-budget but still endlessly uncomparable Bonnie and Clyde. No one cares about them here, much less do they care about their power. They are only more rich people in between the rich, a necklace in between diamonds, heels in between boots. What else could be better?

“Everything is so pretty here.” Kihyun says, pressing his back to her side when he leans forward, her gaze turning back to see the moving lights on his skin, all cause of the motion.

“Yeah...” What is more beautiful, the tall buildings, electric city-life, the bustle of the individuals walking and talking and enjoying music, or the man by her side, trusty enough to leave everything behind—at least momentarily, just for her—. “You really are beautiful.”

Kihyun’s eyes look down at that, inspecting her face before pressing his lips together. “Thank you.”

“I’ve been told I’m pretty good-looking myself.” There she is, seeking for a compliment out of the half-cold, half-warm man.

Lukewarm, yes, that is his word. Common just doesn’t do it for him, like he wants it all but none at the same time. Bubbling inside her body, like champagne of the richest sellers, is the love that could only explode all over the place if she let it. For now, she keeps it hidden...it’s all about enjoying the night, living as they wish. “...You are gorgeous, not only good looking.”

“I’m not even going to say thank you because I knew that.” She jokes, placing a kiss on the juncture of his neck, right above his yugular, smelling the Calvin Klein cologne—or is it Polo Sport?

Her body almost falls to the pavement once the car comes to a halt, Kihyun’s fingers hooking on the handle of the door to open it, catching her by the waist just before falling. “Alright, let’s start this night.”

She’ll remember this night ten years from now, twenty years after as well, when her card had glided across with such ease and such carelessness that she had felt stronger than the leashes that had kept her in place in the past. A palace, they created, in such a big decision of leaving, following the noise of the city and getting lost in the complexity of it all. His smile is palpable, picking up the biggest of coats, wearing it over his body in a fashionable way, taking too many rings to ever fit on their fingers and still, wearing them. Feeding the nostalgia with lollipop rings and hair bleach they promise to use sooner than later, matching terrible hairstyles if they dare and please.

That is the easiest part of the night, deepening when they really do live up to that promise of buying a Nokia and for some reason, she does acquire the red car that she would have never thought of having. Kihyun’s hands always gravitate towards her waist, but why does gravity exist when he makes her feel like she is flying? His breathing on her body adrenaline in its purest form, even more so when he is the driver of their new car, windows rolled down and the wind blowing on his already untamed hair, elbow resting on the door, his fingertips resting on his cheek while they speak. She can’t tear her gaze away from him, such a dream with music playing in the background, phenomenon after phenomenon making her happier.

“We could get used to this.” She tells him, getting a hum from him when she extends her legs, trying to ease the ache on them after walking for so long. “Don’t you agree?”

“This is the most fun I’ve had in awhile, yes.” Kihyun answers another question before quirking an eyebrow. “But I’m not sure if we can have fun forever.”

“Why not?!” She exclaims, jumping a bit on her seat before smiling. “We’ll fight against the world. Who even needs us in the capitalist world? We’re one of many.”

“We’re only fueling capitalism with this.” Kihyun tuts, her hand colliding against his thigh in a small smack.

“But we’re more than it.”

“How so?”

“Unlike other people, we’re having fun with money. We’re not competing, we are living.” His eyes gleam at that, sparing her a glance and then releasing a soft chuckle.

“We’ll try to make this last, then. Our forever, let’s call it.”

In moments like these, youth doesn’t know better, which is why she wraps her lips around the world romantically. “Yes, our forever.” She tells him, only to grasp on the skin of his thigh. “But we won’t last forever if I let you keep driving. You’re not that good”

“I got my driver’s license in a cereal box. Let me do my thing.” Kihyun replies, though she watches him get ready to park the car and give it to her.

The night is not even close to being finished to them, but they don’t have to think about the concept of time anymore...at least, not for now.

Not for their forever.

💔

The expanse of Kihyun’s body is all she feels, the bass of the song in the background a mix in between a club banger and one of those misfits in the music industry, that is not as scene-changing as the feeling of freedom she gets with him. He feels expensive, from the small protruding veins on his skin, mostly on his arms when she twirls around on his arms, her back pressed to his chest, arms wrapped around her waist, his smile pressed to her shoulder like when he is trying to hide his smile—he’s happy, she can tell, the millionare house they had invested in suddenly feeling cramped when his body is so close, the necklace around his neck digging in her nape, his sin in contact with hers by the deep neck of his button down.

Buying a house a week after their departure from their real life seemed like a step closer to normality, a freak show the more they enter their lives into this. Not a smoker, much less a junkie, she still feels tranced in this faux sense of reality they have created. The comfort of waking up to him is far too intoxicating, sharing books and ideas, thinking about the future in just enjoying it, not necessarily working for it. They are privileged, yes, she knows this fairly well but she’s taking the reigns of it. Kihyun’s marks around his face have smoothened, like he is much more tranquil. Sometimes, his smile first thing in the morning makes her feel like there is a moment now for them to fall in love.

Or they may be in love already.

Interlocking their fingers together, she swings while getting closer to him, bodies snug together like they never belonged to separate worlds. She tilts her head slightly, to the point their eyes connect just in time for her to send a remark his way. “It’s been a while since we’ve danced together.”

Bringing his bottle of beer up his lips, he takes a small swing before smiling. “I remember the first time I asked you to dance,” He tells her, placing the bottle down on the coffee table without letting go of her body, their bodies bending slightly, but his arms are once again around her waist, hands one in essence. “You were shy.”

“You’re just a good dancer. I thought: ‘So, this guy is giving me the time of the day and making me look like a fool while at it, interesting.’”

He hums, placing a kiss to her cheek just in time to heighten the feelings around her body. The dull Kihyun is fire in these moments, when he knows exactly what he is doing, like a seductive part of life—he’s the most exquisite of places and she wants to make him home. Money, fame, sex, it all matters less when Yoo Kihyun exists in this world. “You’re such a people-pleaser, you know exactly what to say and when.” He whispers before twisting her around and looking into her eyes, face flushed with a faint glow, a little bit of oils and that blush that she loves being part of. “That was so many years ago. Like three years? I was so nervous, too. You were such a badass.”

“Were?”

“Are, actually. You got me to run away from my world, convinced me in some way or another, and that’s impressive.” Kihyun tells her, bottom lip stuck in between his teeth when he bites down on it, hands making a trip out of her curves when he hugs her tightly, her own hands resting on his chest, seeking for his quickened heart.

“I’ve been having the best time of my life.” She confesses, all love confessions and adoration while Kihyun is much more silent in that sense. His body pulls away from hers, a small stop sign appearing on her heart when he reaches for his backpack, taking out his beloved camera before swinging it in the air softly.

“Let’s remember it. Come on, I want to take pictures of you.”

She chuckles at that, covering her face when he points his camera at her, taking a seat on the couch with his legs parted, looking way longer than they actually are. Something about him is more relaxed, as if she finally meets the real version of Kihyun—the one that doesn’t think so much about his future and just enjoys the now. “I look like a mess, Kihyun. Come on, don’t.” The idea of her mismatched satin bathrobe in a beige color and her purple pajamas in the same material being caught on camera is not so pleasing, but Kihyun shakes his head.

“Uncover your face. You look pretty. Besides, I want cute pictures of you.”

“Kihyun—”

“Please?” His eyebrows knit together at that, making her heart sing a lullaby to its left ventricle, pumping blood faster than she could ever imagine, heart picking up its pace. She sighs, dropping her bathrobe down her shoulders slightly, half-off and turning around, covering half of her face with a peace sign and her shoulder covering a small chunk of her face. “Wow, you can see so much of yourself in this picture.” His sarcasm is clear on his voice and she sighs, half-laughing at his words.

“Alright, I’ll drop my hand.” She rests her hands in front of her, looking into the camera and hearing the flash going off. “This reminds me of paparazzi.”

“Don’t compare me to those lifeless guys.” He adds, looking down at the camera and taking pictures as she gets closer to him. “They will rip the life out of anyone. They’re zombies, sort of.”

But the light of him, his life, is coming back to him. She realizes this when she takes a seat on his lap, grasping his face on her hands and feeling the camera rest in between their bodies. Before, they were too busy to say the things that are important...but now, in this secluded mansion, they have all the time in the world to make another friend fall in love. “They’ll never dull you, Kihyun. They won’t reach us here.” This power they swear they have blinded them to the world that lived out there, much more when his hands expand over her pajama bottoms, caressing the skin of her hips before leaning forward and capturing a kiss from her lips, like the flicker of a camera that catches her off guard.

His rosy and thin lips glide across hers, deepening the kiss when she runs her fingertips through the strands of black hair. “Thank you for lying to me.” She swears she hears him say, but she can’t quite make out the sentence because she leans forward to kiss him again. They want to feel alive, but every fire needs to be dulled down at some point before it burns it all.

💔

Each day, something new is born. An invention, a feeling, a person. Also, something dies—faith, for example, is the most often left behind sentiment. Currently, no one needs it...or so people claim. They only need to feel alive, they don’t need promises of a tomorrow or the day after that, or so she had thought in the past. She is relishing in the feeling of not having achy eyes in the early mornings, of having less coffee and more memories to cling into, of feeling like the owner of her world with no responsibilities whatsoever. She isn’t thinking straight, she calls herself out at times, but whenever she wakes up to the sight of Kihyun, she feels like she is not alone in this. Thus, not entirely lost, as well.

The morning for them includes slices of a vintage cake they had bought the previous night from a small business, the red and yellow colors brightening their day with the sweetness of the treet, paired up with lattes and the TV playing in the background. The counters are still squeaky clean, for she has more time to take care of cleaning now that she doesn’t have to worry about thousands of workers around the continent. For, it’s easy for her to rest her knees on the seat, elbows propped on the island in order to watch the block-like TV with more precision.

On the other end of the island, Kihyun seems to be far more stressed, though he does not move. His hand remains wrapped around the handle of his mug, hair thrown everywhere in his style, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down after swallowing harshly, eyes trained into the TV as well. She sees all the love and peacefulness leaving him the more they hear the news...because they are in them. Two socialites, two business-people, runaways of society that are apparently ‘missing’ according to this news outlet.

“The second victim goes by the name of Yoo Kihyun, co-owner of Jung’s Phone Company, who was last seen with his well known friend getting out of some hotel together. The family of the young man has been looking for him—” She reaches for the remote then, muting the screen in no time before standing up from her spot and staying in the way of the TV, earning a scowl from Kihyun almost immediately.

“Get away.”

“Kihyun, don’t listen to that. We’re—”

“We’re running away from our families, our friends, people that care about us! Don’t you hear that?!” Kihyun tells her loudly, something triggering inside him, frowning deeply when he scratches his head, rubbing his face soon after when wrinkles form on his forehead. “We have worried people. Whether you want to accept it or not, this is highly egotistical. I said a few weeks of this and it has gotten out of control.”

She lowers her shoulders at that, walking forward until she is standing on one end of the island while he is seated on the other. “Kihyun, this wasn’t only my decision. Rise and shine, sunshine, we have done this together.” She tells him, voice filled with pettiness as she crosses her arms over her chest. “We have been happy. Minutes ago you were happy, don’t paint me as the one that was egoistic.”

“I am not saying that.” Kihyun finishes, licking the corner of his mouth and trying to look over her sholder to see what the news is announcing. “Just—Let me look.”

“We can just call our families and tell them we’re here. I don’t see why you’re so bothered.”

“Because we have to go back, that’s it.” Kihyun says, taking a long gulp of his coffee, probably burning his tongue along the way. He hisses soon after, cause of the warmth of his drink. “You don’t get it? The police are involved in this. We have responsibilities and if we dare tell our families, just like that, that we are staying here because we want to be irresponsible, we will be painted to the media like two slackers.”

What had gone wrong? She doesn’t know, the weapon of love is now held against her, perhaps a grenade or a gun, she is unsure. Everything he says just sounds so reasonable, yet like a stab to her back. Perhaps, he had not enjoyed himself quite as much as she did—maybe his forever is not ever going to be actually an union. “Is that what you think we have been doing? Slacking? Kihyun, we have lived—”

“Living life doesn’t mean ou get to avoid responsibilities.” Kihyun counterparts, making her chuckle sarcastically, parting her lips soon after to speak to him.

“Are you meaning to call me irresponsible?”

What a terrible poem, so distasteful in the mouth, to listen about their love story being destroyed by none other than the media. What they had avoided had reached them easily, as if the fire in beween them could always die down with water. “Let’s calm down.”

“No,” She answers. “I’m not dumb, I’m not numb. I know what I’m doing. Unlike you, I don’t care about a business if I’m going to be exploited by the media. Look how many celebrities don’t want to be part of this. We are rich, that doesn’t mean we are happy!”

“Which is why we should look for happiness in work!”

“Well, I thought I could seek happiness in you.” The wrongest decision she could have ever made, she realizes, because Kihyun was never a certainty, much less he meant the forever he was claming to ahve. A forever with different stand-points, knowing that they were never going to want the same thing for long periods of time. There is a reason why they always remained friends with benefits and never a couple they had become. “You know what? Make your fucking decision. I’ll be in the guest’s room when you sort yourself out. Unlike you, if I start something, I finish it.”

And for the entirety of the afternoon, the night, even the midnight, she expects to shed tears, to dry herself out of sadness...but she knows better than doing that. Yoo Kihyun was always a businessman, always the man in the back of every picture of socialites, too responsible to ever follow his heart...and she loved him for that.

It only so happened that he broke her heart with the main reason why she had fallen in love with him.

💔

They teach you money will save you, but it never does.

They never told her the peak of the morning is just as healing, that the moment in which the sun is too dark to shine to its fullest potential is when she will feel the most empowered. In the faint distance, she swears she can see outlines of birds, of planes, of the mix between nature and complete humanity. While seated on that couch, in and out of sleep, stuck in the guest’s room, she wonders what her road will look like. She wants freedom and she knows she wasn’t happy before, but she is not sure what will be her north, her passion, the reason she will wake up every day with the need to pull herself back up. That should never be another person, and for that Kihyun is right.

What Kihyun doesn’t remember is that they had always spoken about a moment like this, as well, that their future was always left for a later...and while trying to live a forever, they discovered nothings lasts a lifetime. For moments like these, she prays for time to go back, for the threads to be sewn back together to create a warm blanket to cover her in the middle of this coldness. She hears him around the house and part of her wishes he enters that guest room, he never does, the stars going up, going down, now merging into the morning after endless hours of being in and out of sleep, of snacking in whatever she finds in that room...of promising herself that this is a nightmare.

Why is it that each time she wakes up he is still leaving?

Part of her wished for him to leave silently, for her to be asleep when he closed the door a final time and left the town by plane, putting away every thought of unconditional love. But Kihyun is not this type of person, not necessarily career driven, but also not given to love entirely. Kihyun knows balance...and maybe that is something she should study, not letting go of the leash completely but also not keeping herself trapped. It’s difficult to do that when she had painted a love glistening in the dark, only to be left alone with a sun that would never shine quite as bright again.

She prays that sun does remember its beauty. She prays that this is the lowest point she can reach before lifting herself up again.

Hopeless she is when she hears the door opening and unlike her old mansion, it could have been a worker—a cleaner, her assistant, even her manager, but right now it could only be Kihyun. Her heartbeat slows down at that moment, because even after everything he is still her comfort, but it doesn’t relax her to hear the rolling of wheels in his luggage, his voice getting clearer when he utters her name out.

It breaks her because she has heard her name being called thousands of ways, but never quite like this, like this is the sweetest of goodbyes. Bittersweet, she’d call it. She brings her knees up her chest, looking out the window and staring at the city, still lighted down, and she can’t even bring herself to look at him when he takes the seat beside her in that couch, his eyes trained on her.

“I knew you’d leave,” She whispers, trying to keep her voice levelled though it’s extremel difficult to do so, closing her eyes to stop the headache that comes with a bad night of sleep. Maybe, she is hurting, as well. Is she losing a friend, apart from a lover? “I should have known, any day and everyday, that I was delusional for thinking we had a future. Much less one like this.”

“I’m doing it for me.” He tells her, trying to look into her eyes, but she keeps them closed. She knows she’ll ask him to stay if she looks into his eyes. The stars are falling down, but the sun is not going up. This is the first and last time he breaks her heart. “I have responsibilities, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry—”

“But I am.”

“I know, but don’t say it.” She opens her eyes, looking out the window and letting out a soft sigh. She presses her fingers to her temples, catching the attention of Kihyun.

“Do you want me to get you an aspirin?”

“No.” Though, she misses the usual ‘thank you’ she would have said otherwise. “If you’re going to leave, just leave now.”

The feeling of his clothes rustling against the sofa is heard around the room, too loud to be bearable, his body bringing itself up until his lips hover over her temple, trying to kiss it but she pulls away from him, as if electricity goes through them. Her body protects itself with her arms wrapped around it, shaking her head just in time to hear him say: “I’m sorry, I love you. I mean it, I really love you.”

Some people never prepare you for the better-off goodbyes, and she knows she would never have been ready for the silence that continued soon after, because she was unable to tell Kihyun what she really felt. She loved him, endlessly, more than the zeroes in her bank account, more than a house could ever cost, more than any contract she ever signed. He probably knew this, he’s intelligent, but she never got to say it...much less when Kihyun whispers his goodbyes and leaves with that damned rolling of wheels against the tiles, all coming from his luggage.

One of those planes in the sky will welcome the man that broke her heart and once he gets back, he’ll tell her cousins where she is. That, however, couldn’t hurt as much as a broken romance that comes with the realization that enjoyment can only last so long before it becomes an addiction.

Still, there is love in the darkness of the sun...and she’ll find it beneath herself. In some place in this new town, she’ll find a new business to construct, a name to be remembered once she finishes. Smiles will make their way back to her, tomorrow or the day after that. Quick, it will heal her, she proclaims.

Faster than Kihyun leaving her, though she wishes him well.

#kihyun scenarios #kihyun #monsta x scenarios #monsta x #writing #kpop scenarios #monsta x au #monsta x fluff #monsta x angst #kihyun angst #kihyun fluff #kihyun au #rich kids!au #1990's!au #friends with benefits!au #we're going heartbreak town up in here

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mnm-inc-miles · 3 years

Video

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EVERYTHING I WANTED

08/30/2021

Nostalgia /näˈstaljə,nəˈstaljə/ noun - a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations. Nostalgia. There was no need to use it in a sentence, because the all too familiar feeling for John encompassed nearly every waking moment of his life. How he could go from having everything he wanted to ending up with it all taken away, was an anchor cast so low he could feel his ship sinking into the depths of a very dark and utterly cold ocean.

John ran every morning, twice even most days, as if he could perhaps move fast enough to run away from all the pain he felt. He knew he was stuck, that he was near drowning. He didn’t need people to tell him he was becoming a husk; he could feel it. All his senses were changing, and despite his desire to overcome in his heart, the will in his soul seemed lost.

Despite the possibility of danger, there were times when John couldn’t help but run in the neighborhood where he and his family lived. Not that he could ever find his house, but it was all he could hope for to catch a glimpse of his family playing in the front yard. It was a burning desire even just to see Hazel chase her little sister Violet around with Emily watching in adoration.

After his run, another failed attempt at a reunion, John took to the streets and simply walked, trying to reason with himself and find a way to be present where he was now, to be happy again. The people he cared for here deserved that, and he wanted desperately to give it to them.

“John, man, let’s go, what are you waiting for?” The sentence broke the silence like a shotgun and John looked to where the voice had come from. There in the distance, he saw his friend Justin beckoning him forth. He took in his surroundings as he walked over, noticing that this was it, this was the restaurant where he’d first met Emily. As he stepped through the door he felt immense pressure on his body, it felt like he’d be crushed to death, but the feeling was only seconds long, like he’d walked through some sort of threshold. His friend spoke, “Justin Theroux, table for two please.”

Looking down John noticed his attire had changed, he was dressed in nice clothing and not his running gear. He wasn’t sweaty and even noticed his beard had a rather close shave. What was happening? He moved toward his friend as a waiter showed them to their table. They sat down and admidst casual conversation decided what they wanted to order from the menu. That’s when the déjà vu really kicked up a notch. A tap on his shoulder and John turned to see a friend standing above him.

“Hey John, how are you?”

“Gray, good to see you…”

“Listen, you should come over and meet my friend.” She gestured to their table a little bit across the room and when John saw her his stomach began to float, the butterflies making him feel weightless. It was Emily. John didn’t even remember the following seconds; he was certain he excused himself to Justin for a moment as he walked on air over to Emily.

Thoughts raced in his head. Don’t blow it, don’t make a fool of yourself. Play it cool, I know you’re a big fan of hers but don’t be a nerd, be manly…those words ran on repeat and with each step closer he could feel his heart pound faster. Their eyes met and she smiled, and he knew immediately she was the one. He stood awkwardly as Gray took her seat and introduced them.

John proceeded to talk, to him it felt like rambling, but she was laughing. Emily Blunt found him funny, and she continued to laugh with each word that fell from his clumsy lips. They exchanged contact information and John walked away feeling on top of the world. He was about to take Emily on a date, and though he knew they’d never work, she’d never really like him he wasn’t that lucky, but he couldn’t help take notice he made a great first impression. She was out of his league, but she seemed interested, and that was all that mattered, because he was in love.

The walls around him began to disintegrate, a familiar pressure hugged him tightly for a few seconds and then disappeared along with everything else. John looked up and a stranger stood before him, “How many?” The man was eyeing him a bit skeptically but continued to do his job.

“I’m…sorry?” It took a moment for John to catch his bearings. He was back in his running gear and he had sweat dripping down his body. “I um…gosh I’m so sorry but…I think I have to be going…”

He walked through the restaurant doors and back out onto the streets. He bolted from the scene like he’d just committed a crime and ran at top speed for as long as his lungs could last him. Then he slowly came to a stop and collapsed in the street, tears streamed down his face like hurricane season, puddles appearing on the pavement before him. Even through the continued sobs, you could hear his delicate heart breaking.

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phoenix-downer · 4 years

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How would you personally rank the Kingdom Hearts games? Storywise, that is.

In terms of story alone, discounting gameplay (and insert disclaimer here that this is all my personal opinion):

1. KH1 and KH2 are tied for first place for me. KH1 is just so magical. It has this sense of awe and wonder and mystery and hope and bittersweetness and nostalgia. Sora’s sacrifice for Kairi will forever stick with me, and everything that occurred from Hollow Bastion onward elevates the game from “really good” to masterpiece. And KH2 has the best ending of the series. I tear up every time I see it. So, so satisfying to experience after everything the characters go through up till that point. Sora and Kairi reuniting is just... it makes the ending of KH1 (which is beautiful in its own right) that much better, and it was so lovely to see Roxas and Naminé living on through them, despite what they’d been told about Nobodies having to cease to exist.

2. KH3 including ReMind. ReMind really completed KH3 for me and elevated the whole game because it showed just how far Sora was willing to go to save Kairi, and his compassion for his friends’ suffering was really moving. That plot point has been teased since Re:coded, and this time he was able to bear their hurt without it breaking them. Being there with him for his journey over the years just makes me feel really proud of who he is now. And Kairi getting to fight is technically gameplay I suppose, but man was it satisfying, especially because we got to fight the guy who was responsible for her “death.” Her fighting by Sora’s side was what I’d been wanting ever since I played KH1 and KH2, so yes playing through ReMind was immensely satisfying, haha.

3. BBS has such a good ending in Blank Points that it elevates not only BBS but the entire series. Plus I like the whole “tragic heroes” angle with the Wayfinder Trio, and Eraqus and Xehanort’s relationship fascinates me.

(I keep waffling back and forth on how to rank KH3 and BBS. Without ReMind, I’d definitely rank BBS higher, and probably Chain of Memories and Reverse/Rebirth higher than KH3 as well, but again ReMind really elevates KH3 for me).

4. Chain of Memories and Reverse/Rebirth. Really excellent, strong story for Sora, Riku, and Naminé. I loved the themes it dealt with, and watching Naminé stand up to her captors and Sora kick Marluxia’s butt was immensely satisfying. So was Riku’s journey to rediscover himself and forge his own path, and his moments with Mickey were really touching.

5. Kingdom Hearts Coded/Recoded. Maybe it’s a surprise I have it here, but the ending was fantastic and actually made me cry. It set things up so beautifully for future KH games too with revealing to the audience what Sora needs to do to save his friends. Mickey being so supportive of Data Sora was the kind of Mickey and Sora interaction I didn’t know I needed. Data Sora and Data Riku’s interactions were great too, gave me Steve and Bucky vibes, and it was so nice to see even data versions of them get to work together like that.

6. Kingdom Hearts 0.2. Really got me excited for KH3, and I enjoyed the deeper dive into Aqua’s psyche. The moment where Terra protected her and Ven are top-notch, and her battle to protect Riku stuck with me too.

7. Back Cover. In some ways I wonder why it’s all the way down here on this list because the Master of Masters stuff was great and had me wanting more. I guess the lack of closure kind of hurts it, but it was still an enjoyable watch and got me interested in the Foretellers.

8. KHUx. I struggled with where to rank this one, because the story itself is really intriguing, but the presentation of it is frustrating with updates being rare. I wish the game updated more frequently, and I hope the story is released as a cutscene movie at some point a la Back Cover because I’d love to experience it all at once. The recent revelations have been tugging at my heartstrings, so I can only imagine what it would be like to experience the story with full voiced cutscenes!

9. Dream Drop Distance. This one is so near the bottom because its highs are really high but its lows are reaaaaally low. The time travel stuff is a mess, Kairi barely being in the plot really doesn’t have a good excuse, and Sora’s characterization doesn’t feel consistent with how you’d expect him to act after KH2 (thankfully KH3 fixed this but I digress). However, the “you treat people like bottles on a shelf” speech from Sora to Xigbar is fantastic, the whole “Sora almost gets norted” plotline was also really good, Sora and Riku being so supportive of each other shows how far they’ve come since KH1 days, and Riku’s arc in this game is just so amazing that really, it almost makes up for everything else. I just wish Riku being such a badass didn’t have to come at the cost of Sora’s characterization, but like I said, KH3 fixed my issues with that (but then handed Riku the incompetence ball unfortunately, but that’s a discussion to be had another day).

10. 358/2 Days. A controversial choice, I know, and please don’t take this to mean I think Days is terrible! Much like DDD, it’s a flawed game that does some things very well; I just enjoyed DDD more personally. Again, this is all pretty subjective, and I have been informed I did things wrong by watching the cutscene movie before playing the game. I think that probably impacted my experience of the story (plus Xion’s death was spoiled for me). The plot was also really overhyped for me I think? There just wasn’t any way it could realistically live up to the expectations people had set for me. I also don’t think I played the game at the right time of my life. The people who seem to love it the most are the ones who first played it as kids or teens, and I was an adult by the time I got around to it. So I think the theme of struggling with identity/what it means to exist just didn’t impact me as hard. It’s like if you try to watch My Neighbor Totoro for the first time as an adult. It just doesn’t land the same.

Thanks for the ask! Again, this is all just my personal opinion, and I’m curious to hear how you’d rank the games!

#answer #mademoiseli #long post #ranking the games

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yukiwrites · 4 years

Text

Flayn, Blurting Out

Thanks for the support as always, @xpegasusuniverse! This one was so funny to write I was cackling to my computer >v<)’’’

Summary: Although Seteth and Flayn had allowed some of the Heroes to know of their circumstances (namely those of dragonkin since they found out the truth with a glance), they still exercised caution. However, they couldn’t help but notice how being around some... blue haired royals made them feel as though they had to run away...

Commission info HERE and HERE!

______________________________

Getting used to the life in Askr turned out to be quite a challenge for Seteth.

He had to be doubly on guard because there were denizens from his own world as well as a wide variety of, let's call them 'heroes' for lack of a proper term, heroes concealing dubious backgrounds.

Every day he felt the pangs of an ulcer developing in his body, though he wanted just as fervently for Flayn to enjoy her time in Askr, if only so she could hold onto the good memories once they were thrown back into the chaos of Fódlan.

Nevertheless, apart from never relaxing his watchful gaze around people who would interact with Flayn, Seteth realized he felt somewhat... disconcerted around certain individuals. He couldn't say if it was something passed down in their family or even if he could trust their words at all -- 'Save the future'? 'Bonds give you strength?' -- despite every single Hero he spoke to vouching for their integrity.

If they were such wonderful people, why did he and Flayn -- and he could tell she also felt discomfort around them; nothing would escape his watch! -- feel that way around them? Their, pfft, royal blue mane and eyes were proof of their royalty and humility?

If they made his precious daughter feel bad, they were not good people, period!

... And yet, Seteth and Flayn were to pair up with one of such individuals for today's battle. They were, first and foremost, summoned people who vowed to obey the Summoner's orders, after all, so they couldn't simply deny fighting alongside someone because they didn't like their general vibe.

"Good day to the both of you," the blue haired man let out a friendly smile, approaching for proper introductions, "I'm Chrom, leader of the Shepherds and next Exalt of Ylisse. Nice to meet you."

"Oh, goodness me!" Flayn exclaimed, placing both hands in front of her mouth in surprise. "This exalted individual is, indeed, the next in line to rule a kingdom, Fa- um, Brother!" She whispered close to Seteth's ear, feeling the discomfort increase with each step Chrom gave in their direction.

Chrom tilted his head to the side, a slight frown knitting his brow. "Is something the matter, my good lady? If I've offended you..."

"Oh!" Flayn waved both hands in front of her face in a flustered apology. "Do forgive my lack of manners, good lord! I have, um, a hard time conversing with strangers due to my sheltered upbringing." She bowed respectfully, though Seteth's ever present hand on her waist didn't allow her to bow properly.

"Ah," Chrom scratched the back of his neck, flashing a wide smile. "That's alright; no need to force yourself on my behalf. I can talk from way over," he took two steps back, "here."

Flayn snorted a laugh, quickly slapping her mouth with both hands to hide the following giggles. "Thank you for your consideration, my lord! I would feel bad if you were to continue to do so without knowing the circumstances, so I must confess..."

"Flayn-" Seteth intervened, shooting the young woman with an alarmed glance.

"Oh, but Fa- Brother, he seems to be such an upstanding individual. Perhaps we should simply ask so we can come to the bottom of this!"

"It does get rather difficult to hear what you're saying from way over here..." Chrom commented light-heartedly, earning the end of Seteth's glare. "Pray, good sir, tell me if I've done something to offend you and your sister. I mean you no harm -- on the contrary, I simply want us to have a friendly banter before we carry out our mission."

Sighing, the older man pressed the bridge of his nose in pent up frustration, changing the weight of his body to another foot. "Forgive my open hostility, Lord Chrom. The truth is that Flayn and I feel some sort of discomfort whenever you or the ones from your bloodline are present."

Chrom frowned, crossing his arms in thought. "Discomfort? Bloodline? Are you talking about Lissa and Lucina, perhaps?"

"Oh, now that I think about it, Lady Lissa is a most pleasant company for tea time." Flayn criss crossed her fingers in a lady-like manner, though then tilted her head to the side in confusion. "So it means that Lady Lissa does not exude this... pressure I unfortunately feel around you, good Lord."

"I have ascertained that only those of blue hair that are linked to you make us feel this way. Lord Marth, Lady Lucina... Though not blue-haired, Lord Alm also radiates this pressure."

"Pressure? Me?" Chrom took one hand to his chin in thought, "I could understand if it were Lord Marth, but I'm nothing if not approachable..." He mumbled here and there, trying to make a connection, his eyes falling on the ground. Then, from the corner of his gaze, he saw Falchion. "Oh! I see now!"

Flayn and Seteth both perked up at his sudden shout. He unsheathed his sword, its blue gleam shining on their eyes.

Though the two of them couldn't enjoy the wonder that was that sword for shivers ran up their spines, making Flayn take a step back while Seteth brought her close to his chest.

"Oh, sorry, I'll put it way over here." Noticing the color leaving their faces, Chrom placed Falchion at a nearby wall. "I’m sure that's the reason you two feel that around those people -- Falchion is a blade forged with the fang of a divine dragon and it can cut through any of draconic descent." He explained carefully, approaching them slowly to check if they were alright with it. "I couldn't see your ears so I didn't know you two were makenetes," he glanced at their elaborate hairstyle, trying to find anything pointy under it, though ultimately returned to meeting their eyes. "So you probably just knew by instinct that Falchion was your natural enemy and wanted to be away from it."

Her heart still pounding, Flayn took a tentative step towards Chrom -- and to her delight, there was no more discomfort now that the sword was so far away. "Oh, this is wonderful news!" She hopped on her spot, then took Seteth's hand so they could walk closer to Chrom.

Seteth, however, didn't budge. His frown, instead, deepened. "You said your sword was forged with the remains of a dragon? A divine one, if I recall?"

Flayn widened her eyes at the remark, remembering the unfortunate events that transpired back in her homeland. She looked from her father to the lord, her body swaying back to Seteth's warmth.

However, Chrom immediately gasped, then shook his hands in denial. "Gods, no! The divine dragon herself bestowed Falchion to the first exalt so he could defeat an evil dragon! We would never desecrate a holy dragon's body." He said in a gentle and hurried voice at the same time he felt a presence approaching. Taking a quick glance behind him, he grew out a smile. "In fact, she's actually the fourth member of our group for today's mission: Naga, the divine dragon." Chrom presented the approaching being with pride in his lips, though he still felt rather conflicted to be able to talk so casually and fight alongside with, well, his god.

Seteth and Flayn let out soundless exclamations of surprise once Naga approached, her very existence something that brought back an IMMENSE nostalgia inside the both of them. It was as though her aura... her aura felt almost the same as... the one back then.

Flayn opened and closed her mouth, unsure of what to say next, especially unknowing what to say to a deity. Her eyes, gods damn them, trailed to Falchion, abandoned by a wall, then back to Naga's... well, mouth.

Back and forth did the young girl look, prompting both Seteth and Chrom to follow her gaze and immediately understand where her thoughts were leading her. Chrom pressed his lips into a thin line and scratched the back of his neck while Seteth squeezed Flayn’s stomach with a tad more strength, but that didn’t stop the overflowing words from escaping her lips.

"So, her tooth..." She said under her mouth in awe, almost pointing at Naga's face. 'Almost' because Seteth held her finger down on the last minute.

Naga did not need context to understand and simply closed her eyes, though Chrom could swear he saw a hint of annoyance in her countenance. "It grew back."

#chrom #chrom fire emblem #feh #fire emblem heroes #flayn #seteth #naga fire emblem #my writings #yuki's commissions #kinda spoilers but eh if you've read anything i wrote about these two in askr its not spoilery anymore

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sexyshakespeare · 5 years

Text

Sasuke comes home - Part 1: Nostalgia hurts

I was finally back. And I wasn’t looking forward to it.

The chunins at the gate nodded at me dutifully. There was a sense of formality and discomfort behind their carefully composed faces. I nodded back and crossed the threshold. I took in the sight of Konoha before me. It had changed so much.

Everything had changed so much.

I looked around with trepidation, though I imagined nobody around me could tell. I wanted to disappear, run back out the gate and into the forest where I belonged, a part of the shadows. Instead, I sucked in a deep breath and walked on towards the hokage’s office. That building was definitely still where it had always been. It gave me a sense of calm. I watched children dodge me out of the corner of my eye. That was for the best, I was no good with children. I awkwardly strolled, one arm tugging at my pack. I quickly realized that my attire was not at all fit for the village. I climbed the stairs to the hokage’s room, praying I’d see a familiar face soon. At the door, I could hear an all too familiar voice behind the door, an exceedingly annoying one. He was talking to Kakashi. Why was he here anyway, he ought to have been at home with Hinata. I pushed the door and walked in, not wanting to make a ceremony out of it. As I swung my pack to the ground, I heard him exclaim, “AH Sasuke! You’re back! You’re staying now aren’t you? You smell awful, when did you have a bath last, my God.” I rolled my eyes at him. “Uruse na-” is all I said as I looked at Kakashi for instruction.

“Good to have you back. We have your old apartment ready for you. Take this for your expenses. Let me know if you need anything else. And as always, good work.” I didn’t meet his gaze, but nodded silently and took the envelope and keys from him. I lifted my pack up and turned for the door, glancing at Naruto for a second. He smiled at me. It was the only warm gesture I had witnessed in years now. It felt strange. I loosened my shoulders and grimaced at the door. “Yeah I do need a bath.” He started to laugh and clap at my back, ruining the moment as per usual Naruto. “Oh and Sasuke, Sakura is waiting for some word from you. She’ll be at the hospital. Do get back to her.”, Kakashi’s voice sounded as I closed the door behind us. I felt the back of my neck turning sweaty.

Sakura. How was I supposed to face her. What was I even supposed to say. “Sakura chan’s missed you loads- datte bayou! You need to meet her”, Naruto said chirpily. “Yeah yeah. I will-” I shrugged it off the best I could, but I could tell her would not let it go, so I tried a different tactic. “How’s married life-”, I looked at him and smiled slightly. That hit the bullseye. Just that much was enough to make this fool blush from head to toe. “Oh you know- it’s all good- I-”. I looked at him pointedly and said, “How’s- Hinata..” At this, Naruto stared blankly back at me till he looked like he would implode. I started to chuckle at him as we walked towards my shitty apartment road. “SASUKE- I can’t tell you something like that- that’s- you’re a real sly, disgusting bastard you know- Sakura chan doesn’t have a clue-” My smile dropped as he brought up Sakura again. Great. He’d pester me to go see her again. I better focus on this wedded bliss of his. “SO- Naruto-kun.That’s what she calls you right?” “Y-yes. It’s fucking weird for you to call me that. UGH you’re ruining it”, he cringed. That was a rare sight. You only ever saw other people cringing at Naruto, not the other way round.

I opened the lock on the door, and pushed the door in. As Kakashi had said, it was all dusted and aired out. These people spent too much time on me, I could’ve managed this little chore on my own. I stared at the wall with melancholy. There were no pictures hanging anywhere, or little curios. I had thrown out all the cat figurines Itachi used to collect, after smashing them first. My eyes clouded over for a second, as the memories of living in this dingy apartment room filled my mind like a storm. “Ahh Hinata is getting more and more beautiful every day. AND YOU KNOW WHAT. SHE’S SO CLOSE TO BEATING MY RECORD AT ICHIRAKU RAMEN.” Thank God for this idiot. I smiled as his voice brought me back to the present. I turned to him, putting my pack down near my bed and took off my loose turban. My rinnegan was free now. He was very well acquainted with it after all. Naruto beamed at me for a bit and we just stood there looking at each other. I know he felt what I felt. I know it. And it was good to be home, just for that minute at least. After that, the awkwardness set in. I cleared my throat a bit, signalling him to leave me alone. Thankfully, the message was received.

“Alright then sasuke. You settle in. You know where to find me- OH wait you don’t. I moved to a bigger place for me and Hinata-” “Yeah yeah, I’ll find you- just ask anyone where the hero of Konoha lives and have them walk me there to get an autograph-” He blushed at that. Stupid bastard was forever humbled. I wish I had known how to be that way 5 years ago. God, I felt so stupid. Uzumaki Naruto was 10 times the man I ever was. This, Uzumaki Naruto.

I was about to shut the door behind him, my thoughts straying to the bathroom and how I’d have to at least hose down everything before I had a bath in there-unless these generous fuckers thought of that too. I almost groaned at the thought- Kakashi cleaning my shitpot. That was just too painful to imagine- albeit amusing. “Oh and Sasuke-kun. Go see Sakura-chan. That’s what she calls you, right?” My simple thoughts were yanked to a fearsome, complex maze of emotions in an instant. I gave Naruto the hardest death stare I could manage. He just grinned at me stupidly and climbed down the stairs. I shut the door and sighed deeply. NO- Now I will shit in peace for a while. Then worry about everything else. The bathroom was indeed, very clean, too fucking clean. There was new soap and a toothbrush, with toothpaste. I looked at myself in the mirror. My strange eyes stared back at me. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I looked like some kind of deranged animal, one that had retired from being feral. My hair was overgrown, but I didn’t mind that. Would I have to start minding that now that I had to integrate into society? Did I have to integrate into society? How the hell would a one-armed, creepy, sullen looking Uchiha murderer like me integrate into society. I didn’t want to hope for a normal life, that was asking too much. Why was everyone trying so hard to give it to me. I squeezed some paste onto the toothbrush. I didn’t even think I’d remember how to do this properly, until my hand just moved on its own. I smirked at myself when I was done. Teeth clean- one thing ticked off on my list of things to do to start a new life. I took off my ragged cloak and pants, stepping into the shower cubicle. Let’s see here- hot water, wow. The soap felt amazing on my skin. I used to love being clean back in the day. There’s a specific soap I used too- I ought to buy some for myself later. That’s it. People buy things for themselves all the time. I can do that too. I tried to pick out the grime from under my fingernails, and added yet another thing to my list of things to buy. I probably had a nail cutter around here somewhere. The dirt washed out of my hair, swirling into the drain. It gave me immense satisfaction. I felt the tired animal in me being whisked away.

I smiled to myself. I might just pull this off. Sasuke-kun?

That is what she called me. She’s always called me that. It didn’t mean much to me back then. It still doesn’t really. Hinata does that for Naruto. It’s a form of endearment, right? Sakura has always given me affection. Affection I didn’t deserve. Affection I didn’t want.. Affection I didn’t know how to want. I was completely alone, and safe. I felt comfortable, standing under the shower, not hearing a sound from the outside. It was okay to picture her face. It felt okay. I never ever let myself usually. It felt awful to even try. Sakura’s face made me feel like the most vile, cruel, beast that had ever walked the face of this earth. I clenched my fist, fighting back the tears. I can’t look at her face. I can’t. I was a monster to her. I’ve always been. She’s forgiven me because that’s how she is. She’s a better human being than I am. She needs to stay away from me now for her sanity. I’m a broken thing. I should tell her that, forcefully if I must, and let that be that.

Sasuke-kun. She wouldn’t leave me just with that. It’s her. I closed my eyes, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. Why won’t she give up on me. Naruto’s face loomed in front of me now. I cringed at the sudden change of scenery in my head. He never gave up on me either. I turned off the water and stepped out, smiling to myself. They never gave up on me. Wrapping the towel around my waist, I considered it. Naruto is fine. He has a life that’s separate from me, a very happy one. Sakura on the other hand.. She wants me to love her. I can’t love her. I don’t know how to love someone. I don’t know how to love someone adequately. Maybe I do love her, but not the way she would want. I looked at myself in the mirror, the stub of an elbow poking back at me in the reflection. Sasuke-kun. I looked away from my reflection as a small smile threatened to grow on my lips. I didn’t even deserve the way she said my name. Her pink hair, and pink personality sure did look cute on her. Why would she want my darkness around that. I can hardly stand it, dampening her spirit like that. Sakura-chan. It was strange to even think those words. I didn’t want to belittle her by saying that. It’s something you say to babies or to a woman you don’t respect. Sakura could beat the hell out of you if you belittled her. Sakura-chan. Ridiculous. I frowned as I realized that he still calls her that. Ano yaro. He’s married to Hinata and still calls her Sakura-chan. Ridiculous. She can still put him in his place after all these years. Doesn’t it bother her? Sakura-chan. I put on the spare clothes left for me there by the Sasuke Welcoming team, whoever they were. First thing’s first, I had to buy myself some essentials and clothes. Pocketing my keys and money, I opened the door. Sakura-chaaan, I muttered under my breath. I’d never do something as stupid as that to show my affection for her.

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azurefanfics · 5 years

Text

A Little Surprise

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: fluffiness

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Hello! This is my first fic for this fandom (and the first time I’ve written in about two years) so any feedback will be much appreciated! This is just a short little oneshot for Joon’s birthday that I’m trying to use to ease myself back into writing, I hope you enjoy!

Your husband was heading back to Ilsan for his birthday. It wasn’t often that he was blessed with time off, let alone some that overlapped with his birthday, so he thought it would be a nice change of pace to head back to his home town and spend the day with his family. Unfortunately, work commitments had prevented you from heading to the suburbs with your husband. You had been extremely apologetic and tried your best to get out of it (to no avail) but your husband, being the sweetheart that he is, understood completely. He knew that these trips didn’t happen often, but when they did they were extremely important. The fact that you’d arranged to take the weeks before the meetings off to go on a tour around Europe didn’t hurt either. You two had the time of your lives together, visiting all the tourist destinations, admiring the culture and sampling the food. You went everywhere from Venice to Wein to Copenhagen, soaking in the beauty and the history of the places whilst simultaneously revelling in the relative peace and refreshing anonymity that these destinations had granted you. Your husband’s job has meant that you often struggled to find privacy and couldn’t have dates in public areas. But in these places you were nothing but another young couple strolling through the romantic city, free to do and explore as you pleased. You’d both arrived back in Korea with hearts full of love and memories to last a lifetime.

A week later, when he was headed to his parents’ without you, he found that he did not feel disappointed but instead immensely grateful for the time you were able to spend together. He hadn’t been able to spend his birthday with his family since pre-debut, so obviously he was welcomed home with open arms. Unbeknownst to him, his sister Kyungmin immediately got down to business and began planning a surprise party. As he spent his days wandering around Ilsan indulging in nostalgia, she was busy gathering supplies, inviting his friends and scheming with you. Although you were on the other side of the world, you had been doing your best to hurry along proceedings at work. You’d rescheduled some meetings and worked gruelling hours for days, often working 18 hour days with no break. Your schedule was jam packed, but you were painfully close to wrapping the deal that had been the goal of this trip. Although you were overworked and certainly on the verge of burning out, it would all be worth it to see the look on Namjoon’s face.

The day of the party arrived quickly, all the preparations had been made and Kyungmin was practically vibrating in anticipation. Namjoon, for his part, was completely oblivious to the plan and was just enjoying the time he had with his family. His members had travelled to Ilsan to spend the day with him, and they spent a good portion of the day hanging out together. Upon their arrival back at your in-laws’ house, Namjoon discovered the place covered in balloons and streamers, and the party was soon in full swing. Your sister in law, knowing Namjoon’s propensity for cute things and how much he adored the Ryan cake you and the members had given him a few years prior, had ordered an adorable Mangnanyong cake, much to his delight.

With a stomach full of cake and having received gifts from all of his loved ones, Namjoon found himself well and truly content. He was grateful to have so many wonderful friends in attendance, many travelling all the way from Seoul to be there. There were his members (of course), numerous other idols who had taken time out of their busy schedules to be with him, as well as other friends (old and new) from outside the music industry. It was in moments like these that Namjoon felt well and truly loved and thankful for all that he was blessed with in this life. However, it wasn’t long until these thoughts were rudely interrupted by the chaos brought by three of his members.

“It’s your turn to deal with them now, birthday boy” said Yoongi, unceremoniously dumping his hyung and his youngest dongsaeng in front of the other rapper. Suddenly snapped out of the shock of being dragged over, Jungkook bounded towards Namjoon.

“Hyung, my present was awesome wasn’t it?” His eyes sparkled in anticipation of hearing Joon’s verdict. “Much better than hyung’s right? He always has awful taste for stuff like this!”

Unbeknownst to him, those two had spent the last 10 minutes bickering over whose present was better, driving his other members insane in the process.

“Yah! Has the youth lost all respect for their elders these days? Besides, you know that mine is better, just give it up!” exclaimed Jin.

“A-hem”. Kyungmin cleared her throat, inserting herself into the conversation before her brother could speak up. “I think I’ve definitely got the best gift here”.

Before either boy could protest, she quickly crossed the room in a few long strides. She pulled on the door and it swung open to reveal you on the other side. Although exhaustion and stress clouded your features, your radiance shone through nonetheless. At the sight of Namjoon, your face smoothed and a brilliant smile overtook your face, causing all the air to be sucked out of his lungs for a moment. Even after all these years, he still found you to be the most beautiful woman in the world.

“Hey” you greeted softly.

“Y-Y/N? What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be in America still?”

“Yeah I was… But I managed to wrap things up a bit early so here I am” you replied

At that he briskly crossed the room and pulled you into his strong, warm arms. The whole room had stopped to witness the touching reunion, but neither of you took notice as you were both too caught up with the other. You buried your head into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. He smelled of wood and musk and home, and all at once you remembered how much you’d missed him. No matter how many times you’re apart, be it for his tours or promotions or your own work, you were always overcome by a deep yearning for him that could never be satisfied until you were together again. Pulling back, you looked into his eyes and instinctively knew that he was thinking the same thing. You tilted your head up, allowing him to slot your lips together. You fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, after years of being together this kind of affection came naturally to you two. That is until you were interrupted by two sets of gagging noises, causing you both to pull away and blush sheepishly. Kyungmin and Jungkook grinned at each other impishly, before the former dragged you away from Joon. “Now that you’re here, let’s get this party started!”

The next day, you and Joon were strolling through Ilsan, revisiting some of his favourite childhood spots with Monie. Although the dog was quite the tsundere towards your husband, he had no qualms towards showing affection towards you, licking you and yipping loudly whenever you don’t give him enough attention. You were always glad to see the furry friend whenever you visited your in-laws. You and your husband settled yourselves on a bench in the park as the little white menace ran around chasing squirrels and fetching the occasional stick your other half threw.

“Are you enjoying being home?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

“Yeah, it’s been nice seeing my family and catching up with old friends, but it’s even better now that you’re here” he replied. You hummed in response, sinking further into your husband’s arms contentedly. Suddenly remembering what you came out here to do, you tensed, fiddling with your wedding band.

“What’s wrong?” asked Namjoon, sensing the sudden tension that entered your frame. His eyes travelled to your finger, where your hand was still fiddling with the ring. This was a nervous habit of yours since the very first day he presented you with a ring, which only served to compound his concern.

“It’s nothing really, I just…. I just have another present for you”. Last night you had given him a pair of his favourite wireless noise cancelling headphones that were only available in the states. He had broken his last pair on the flight back from Europe and he hated the prospect of having to wait months for another pair to arrive. Songwriting, travel and hell even monster dishwashing sessions were incomplete without them (even if the latter was slightly unsafe given your husband’s clumsiness). When you whipped them out of your bag, his face lit up like it was Christmas day and you promptly won the debate between the members.

“What? You don’t need to keep spending your money on me, you already got me a trip and those headphones, that’s already way too much!” he exclaimed.

“It’s not really like that. I wanted to do something different for you. I really hope you like it. Besides, it not like I can take all the credit, the boys helped me with it too. Really they probably did most of the work… So yeah” you rambled, before petering out. With that, you pulled out your phone and passed it to him, pressing play.

The video started with soft piano melody playing a soothing lullaby. Pictures of your adventures with Joon, old and new, faded into view. Some of them were ridiculous selfies taken at tourist spots, or pictures taken by managers or one of the boys, but most were charming candids of your husband. Each shot allowed him to see himself through your eyes, and the infinite pool of love you felt for Namjoon was palpable. Even at the most breathtaking of locations, the camera’s focus never wavered from the man in front of you. A soft voice filtered out of the speakers, your voice, singing a lulling melody that he didn’t recognise.

“D-did you write this song?”

“Yeah. Well I had some help from the boys, but it was mostly written and performed by yours truly”. His eyes met yours with something akin to awe. How is it possible that the woman that he loves with all of his heart could continue to amaze and astound him every day? “I know sometimes on tour you can’t sleep. I was thinking that maybe this might help when you miss us.”

“Us?” he questioned, but you merely smiled and shook your head, before gesturing for him to continue the video. Pictures came and went, everything from your wedding photos to images from the last tour to pictures from your most recent trip together to Europe. As the music slowed and diminuendoed, his breath caught as the final picture faded into view. A positive pregnancy test. His head snapped up hopefully as his eyes brimmed with tears.

“Is it true? You’re… ” he whispered, too scared to say the words aloud. You forced your eyes up from the ground to meet his, nodding. You and your husband had been trying for a baby for a while, but it had been unsuccessful thus far. That didn’t make it any less daunting to tell him the news though. At that, he whooped before picking you up and spinning you around. Monie bounded over at the commotion, yipping and tilting his head curiously.

“I’m going to be a dad!” he exclaimed excitedly, half to you and half to the dog, before crouching down. He placed his hand on your stomach, before placing a kiss there, on top of your t shirt.

“Joon, you’re not going to be able to feel anything yet” you said, giggling at his actions nonetheless.

“I know” he replied, “but I want to do it anyway”.

“Hi little bean, I’m your dad!” he whispered softly, staring at your stomach. He stood up in one smooth motion, before meeting your eyes. “It’s amazing, you’ve really got a little life we made together in there”.

“It really is” you smiled.

His eyes flickered across your face, soaking in your every detail.

“I love you so much” he whispered, before pulling you in for one more kiss.

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon imagine #bts x reader #bts fluff #namjoon fluff

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doctorgerth · 5 years

Note

Good luck with the blog dear!! I am cheering for you! 💜 Here is my request, how will X Drake behave when he meets the woman who once was his superior when he was a marine and theu had a relationship back then (not fully romantic, more like something physical). Now she is a infamous pirate. Please make it a scenario if it is possible. I hope this makes sense xD (Ai)

I know this is old, but still, thank you so much, Ai! To be quite honest, idk what the fuck I just wrote for you lol X Drake is an interesting character, but was a bit of a challenge since we hardly know anything about him. I hope I portrayed him to your liking. Also, I know you never stated it, but I kinda went a lil nsfw-ish at the end? I hope that’s okay. If not, I will gladly change it! Either way, I hope you enjoy this! x

*Putting it under the cut, as it is a bit lengthy!

Running into a Former Lover (X Drake)

Seeing her waltz in into the bar was immediate nostalgia. A rush of emotions, emotions he hasn’t felt in years, flooded his entire being. He eyed her shamelessly for a while, making sure over and over again that it was indeed (Name) he was seeing right in front of his eyes. Craning his neck for a better view, his heart skipped a beat once the divine eye contact was made at last. X Drake was a rather apathetic man, but he couldn’t hide or deny the fiery rush of blood that tinted his entire face once she recognized him.

“Drake? Is that you?”

He had spent a good few minutes just staring at the woman, begging for her to notice him. But now that she was walking his way, a cheesy smile accentuating her face, he wanted nothing more than to flee this place at breakneck speed. What would he say to her? What would she say to him? Her smile was inviting, but surely he was setting himself up for trouble if the Marines were here.

X Drake stood from his chair, a respectful stance he grew accustomed to while working alongside his former Marine superior, (Name) years ago. She was a Vice Admiral, and he was her Rear Admiral, her right hand man. The two were quite the pair back in his Marine days.

“(Name).” He acknowledged her flatly.

Her pace seemed to quicken as soon as her name rolled off his lips. Only he could make her name sound like that. It was him! She couldn’t contain her excitement as she trotted over to her former partner, thrilled to see him as it had been years since their last time together.

X Drake stood still, was she there to arrest him? He had been extra careful as to not cause any trouble the past few days. My, what a sight it would be for her of all people to retain him.

“As stoic as ever.” She smiled up at his indecipherable demeanor. She always found that side of him intriguing. (Name) had lost count of the times she spent observing him, wracking her brain for any knowledge as to what this unreadable man was thinking.

Her smile and playfulness made his tight lips crack ever so slightly into a wistful smile. Still as beautiful as ever, he thought to himself. But he wouldn’t dare say such words out loud for everyone to hear. Just before his mind had wandered, something peculiar caught his eye.

“Is that a Jolly Roger?” His left brow raised high, surely she was working undercover for a mission of some sort? Nevertheless, there was definitely a pirate symbol on her coat. One he had seen before, but couldn’t quite place a name on.

An even bigger, prouder smile graced her lips, “Yep! I’m officially a pirate, just like you!” Though she was his superior, she enjoyed acting like she was the one who looked up to him. She always said that it was a means to inflate his ego, but he knew it was her way of teasing him.

“My my, (Name). What happened to fighting in the name of justice?” He couldn’t hide the amused smile any longer, his hands resting at his hips dramatically. He was indeed proud of her, but was he supposed to be? Why had she left? She was a Vice Admiral! He knew how tedious and difficult it was to achieve that rank, let alone abandon it.

She simply shrugged her shoulders in response, “We always talked about how flawed the system was. I grew tired of the mundane missions that got us all nowhere. I’m not getting any younger, so I decided it was time to take a risk! Live an actual life for once.” Her confident laughter filled the room, and though the bar was as full and lively as moments ago, all he could hear was her; everyone else had faded away, “I had seen you in the papers and…”

“Oh, so you’ve been keeping up with me?” A satisfied and cocky grin stretched from ear to ear on his face. It was her turn to blush now.

“T-that’s not what I…”

“You did always enjoy living on the wild side.” Drake pointed out, going back to their main conversation. Remembering the life-risking adventures they frequently went on together, he had to admit, life with her was definitely thrilling. She knew how to keep him on his toes and he admired that about her.

“I always enjoyed it with you, anyway.” She admitted honestly, almost to herself, but he had heard. A quickened pace began thumping in his chest at her confession.

The two had subconsciously sat down at the table they were talking by, Drake’s crew getting the hint to relocate while (Name)’s men remained close by, talking amongst themselves at a table within sight. A waitress plopped down a couple of beers and the two began reminiscing, picking up right where they left off.

* * *

“Oh? So you’re the captain?” Drake sneered, feeling more and more comfortable by the second. He could always let his guard down around her, effortlessly.

(Name) sloshed down the rest of her drink, slamming the cup down, “Damn straight I am! Who the hell else would it be? Can’t trust these men to lead each other. It’s like the blind leading the blind!” Her drunken laughter sounded like music to his ears; the kind of song you wanted to listen to on repeat.

“Men need a strong woman in their life. They are lucky to have you.” The words just flowed right out, and his sincerity caused her face to heat up. She brought the mug to her face, attempting to hide the evidence of her embarrassment. Drake smiled to himself, catching sight of her adorably flushed face, knowing there was nothing left in that mug.

“W-well how about you then? Have you met anyone?” She was scared to know the answer, but she couldn’t waste another second in the dark. Had everything truly been lost between the two?

Drake shook his head, “Can’t say I have found anyone to settle with just yet.” His arms stretched to rest casually behind his head, “One too many options.”

Her eyes widened. Was he serious? Had her chance been shot? She was searching his face for any evidence of jest, but his face was as unreadable as ever! Would she ever learn to crack his codes?

It was no surprise he’d have hoards of women clawing at his feet. He’s always been so handsome and charming. Her head felt heavy as it began to stoop.

“Kidding.” He muttered blankly, “Only kidding.”

(Name)’s head shot up. Her flustered, furious face causing an entertained chuckle to escape his throat.

“Oh, haha, very funny. I’m sure you’re quite the bachelor.” Her eyes rolled dramatically to the back of head.

Coming down from his laughter, Drake looked down into his drink, the remaining liquid reflecting his hesitant face. “What about you?”

(Name) was always an independent, head-strong woman. Most men would fear her type, but never him. Drake adored her fighting spirit, her determination, and her immense care for others. He hadn’t realized that until his absence from the Marines and his absence from her.

“Not for me. I’m far too independent for any romance.” Her (e/c) eyes drifted to a downcast angle; she was no longer looking at him. She looked upset and he was willing to do anything to bring that smile he loved so much back to her sweet face. He had wondered if something happened during their separation. Surely she had met someone along the way? Silence filled the table, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. The boisterous noise from the bar crowd coming into earshot yet again, until her restrained voice brought him back to their own little world.

“It’s really been a while…” She whispered, reminiscing on the days when they were most dynamic; not only on the battlefield, but behind closed doors as well.

“10 years.” He retorted matter-of-factly.

She smiled, he had remembered, “We were so young then. So desperate for some kind of connection with anything other than duty.”

Drake’s brows furrowed, causing his infamous frown to return. His body stiffened forward with his hands resting on the table, “You were my duty, Captain.”

(Name) bit her quivering lip at his formalities. He hadn’t called her that since 10 whole years ago. She did not expect such a simple title, one she was most definitely used to by now, to get her flustered so easily. Sobering up, her shaking hands found his that was resting atop the table. The need for contact was intense between the two as he never faltered, simply allowing her hands to settle on his casually. He didn’t realize just how much he missed her touch until her ever soft skin sent him reeling to their past passionate rendezvous together. This touch was different however; innocent, longing.

“It’s been too long…” (Name) trailed off, subconsciously joining Drake on a journey into their past.

They were indeed younger back then. Things were hardly ever more than physical for the pair. Their desire for each other had threatened to overrule their desire for justice, because they were that desperate to feel something. Thinking back on it now, it was amazing they were able to work together for so long, since they were quite terrible at hiding their affection.

Working as a Marine was stressful, especially being a Vice and Rear Admiral. Satisfaction was practically a must to make it through the tough times, and luckily, they always found relief in each other. They knew their passionate nights together were numbered. What they hadn’t expected was to miss each other once their time was up. All the things they regrettably overlooked in each other, became the things they craved for in other people during the 10 long years. But, the connection with strangers could never be formed, as Drake and (Name)’s connection had only grown stronger during their absences.

It was a subtle connection, one they thought about occasionally, that caused them to pray silently to whatever god was ruler of their fate; they needed to see each other, just one last time. Were they given that chance, they promised they would do better that go around. Now, as fate would have it, they were here, holding hands in a random bar while reminiscing on what was behind them. But was the past truly the only chance they had together?

“I shouldn’t have left you like that, (Name).” Drake admitted, sheer regret dripping from his words.

(Name) nodded, forgiving tears swelling in her eyes, but she wouldn’t let the dam break. Drake squeezed her hands in his, offering a reassuring smirk.

“Any way I can make it up to you? Say it, and it’s yours.”

She looked at him while slowly leaning in. To anyone else, the pair just looked like they were having a nice conversation. But she knew the true meaning behind his words. She instantly noticed his sincere smile twisting to something devious, seductive. His eyes sparkled; that same youthful sparkle that always tempted her in the darkness of her room.

The pair looked over to their respective crews who were each drunk and in their own worlds. They could sneak away easily, just like old times. The rush made both of them nervous, yet excited. But they were pirates now, they could do whatever they wanted.

“I can think of a few ways.” She whispered, inches from his face now.

* * *

They found themselves entangled in endless bouts of passion later that night. Though nostalgic, the night was far from any others they had experienced in their past. They had matured and at last accepted their deep-rooted, irrevocable love for one another. X Drake made many confessions, apologies, and declarations of love to his lover that night. Their fervently intertwined bodies drifted off to a peaceful slumber, ending their sensual night with the promise this wouldn’t be their last.

#one piece #one piece request #one piece scenario #scenario #x drake #x drake scenario #former lover #anon #anon request #ai

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abbie-writes-stuff · 5 years

Note

Are you willing to do a part 2 to under the fireworks?! OML, I JUST READ THAT AND IM BLOWN AWAY. MY HEART IS STILL HURTING, I NEED MORE!

Under the Stars

Word Count: 1.6k

Part I : https://abbie-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/post/181332551514/a-scenario-where-shouto-and-his-so-are-at-a

“Guys, I found her!”

By the time the group has filed into the secluded spot where the two sat, they had already parted with diverted gazes.

“Why did you run off?” Ochako asks in worry, her amber orbs gleaming.

“I…” (Y/N) started but couldn’t find a good excuse.

“She needed some time away for some air,” Todoroki jumps in beside her, almost daring anyone to question his alibi.

Everyone else seemed to nod in agreement despite the strange excuse. A certain blond though, continues to gaze at (Y/N) with doubt but says nothing.

“Alright, then let’s get back to the festival!” Denki exclaims, eyes lighting up almost immediately. “We’ve still got about an hour or two before it ends so let’s spend that time up wisely!”

(Y/N), for the first time that night, smiles wholeheartedly and joins the crowd.

As the high from the unexpected kiss dies down, everything around her is raw again. The calming scent of night air mixed with food along with the warm summer air sends notes of nostalgia dancing through her body as she laughs and chats with all her friends.

All of that died down a bit when she sees Momo holding the bear Shouto gave her from earlier oh so close.

She silently shakes her head.

That kiss was probably done out of pity. Snap out of it.

Her (E/C) eyes cast downward, the familiar feel of a silent frown forming on her lips again. It was pitiful, truly, how much she lets herself get pushed around. And she thought she was assertive.

That same feeling of dread almost took over her again. Keyword: almost.

When a large hand places itself on top of her head, she squeaks in surprise. When her eyes meet ruby orbs, she was even more shocked.

Bakugou Katsuki meddling with a low-life like her? By the Gods, what greater spirit has caused such unbalance in the universe?

“Retard, you look dumb. Stop it.”

She blinks in confusion, but Bakugou merely scoffs.

“Why do you look so upset? It’s killing the mood,” he growls.

Lord almighty, what is this paradox?

Her baffled expression must’ve given away more than she intended. He gently smacks her head, making her flinch in shock.

“I can be nice too you know!” He rumbles in annoyance. “Now what’s wrong?”

At first, she was in disbelief. Then, she started giggling. Is this what insanity feels like? She doesn’t stop laughing until a minute later, the two are still walking side by side in peaceful bliss.

“I’m a bit shocked. What holy act have I done to be granted the care of the godly Bakugou Katsuki?” she teases, bringing the fish bag that was tied around her wrist closer to her.

He scoffs once more, not responding to the sarcastic question.

The next few minutes of walking towards the next stand was spent in silence. It was, dare she say refreshing, to walk next to the hot-blooded blonde. His fiery nature was so honest and down-to-earth that she knows he can probably figure out her problem without prying too far. Which is exactly what he did.

Slowly, he was able to piece together the bits and puzzles that she left on accident. It makes sense once you think about it. For all it’s worth, (Y/N) has been the one person who has stuck by the dual-haired boy since day one. No matter how hard he pushed, she didn’t budge because she believed it’s what he needed, and it was.

When the blonde glances at her sad (E/C) orbs, he sinks a bit too. The bubbly, loving girl was overwhelmed. Does she think he’s replacing her?

In an attempt to drag her out of her state, he stops at a shooting booth. When the group shoots him a startled look, he brushes it off and hands the stand owner the right amount of yen.

(Y/N) stands on the sidelines, watching him intently with no attention. Her mind was racing, rather, with multiple questions. What was he planning anyway? Every day leading up to this point, he has done nothing nice for her.

With (E/C) eyes casting away, Shouto takes the opportunity to closely examine the girl he has learned to love. Her expression did not give away the fact that she was upset. In fact, he almost missed it. It was only when he found her alone by the river looking rather grim did he realize something was wrong.

With a perfect score of five, Bakugou scored the chance to choose a large prize. All the large prizes were stuffed animals, hence why the group was a bit stunned when he chose this booth in particular.

What was handed to him scared the entire class. A large, blue dolphin who’s texture might as well be as soft as a rabbit’s and beady black orbs that could easily rival the bear that Yaoyorozu was given.

When he gave the dolphin to (Y/N), everyone froze in utter fear, even the girl herself. Who is this man and what has he done to Bakugou?

Instead of questioning the strangely kind action though, the (H/C) haired girl gingerly takes the dolphin from him in wonder. It was…sweet.

“What are you all looking at?” he snapped, eyes darting around him. Everyone shudders and continues to talk, trying their best to ignore their friend’s strange behavior until it was almost completely forgotten.

When they had resumed walking, the blonde bent down and whispered in (Y/N)’s ear, “Now you have a doll to carry around too.”

She gazes up at him with widened (E/C) orbs, mesmerized. He did that just so she would have a doll like the black-haired girl? How did he even notice?

Her mouth agape, she silently inhales. Then smiles with grateful eyes at her savior. All of a sudden, she feels giddy. A wave of wistfulness hits her as she hugs the dolphin a closer to her, feigning the appearance of a young doe. She mouths a small ‘thank you’, before continuing to carry on with her night as happy as ever.

This, however, was not okay with a certain heterochromatic boy. Since when was Bakugou so nice to anyone, let alone (Y/N)? He had always assumed they couldn’t stand each other, but this predicament proved otherwise.

Falling behind a bit so he can be right next to the girl, he eyes the fish bag around her wrist. For some reason, it resembled a certain someone that he knows with its red and white color scheme.

“(Y/N).”

She noticeably stiffens at the voice, hesitant to respond. Only after some seconds (but what felt like centuries to the boy) does her wondrous (E/C) eyes peer up.

“Let’s…” he starts, almost hesitant to say what was on his mind. “Let’s go—”

“Oi, can’t you see we were talking?”

With that, Todoroki looks up, shooting the blonde a malicious look. Bakugou sends one right back with just as much intent Todoroki has. Not wanting to be a part of their man-competition, (Y/N) anxiously steps back with shaky legs, goosebumps running across her skin in a sprint of fear.

The atmosphere sinks immensely as the air grows thicker and thicker. With every passing second, Mina inches closer to (Y/N) before ultimately grabbing her elbow and pulling her away from the oncoming massacre.

“Alright, enough of that! We have a few sparklers left so why not go the beachside and clear them out?” Kirishima suggests dubiously, hands already filled with bags of sparklers.

“Great idea! Let’s go (Y/N)!”

Before the girl could respond, Mina was already pulling her along to join the rest of the girls, away and away from the boy who looked at her with vast longing.

⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋⇋

Flickers of tangerine dances around the sparkler (Y/N) was holding zealously. It was dark by the beachside since it was rather far from the festival. How the entire group managed to walk here without anyone getting lost was beyond her, but nonetheless, she’s at peace.

Sitting at the edge of the boardwalk, the blazes that waltz around reflect against the tamed sea with stars flickering above them just as brightly, if not more.

A tall figure takes a seat beside her, throwing his legs over the planks of wood so they can hang freely, much like hers.

“You’re okay, right?” he whispers to her in a hushed tone. Todoroki glances at the sparks that prance around the small orb of light as he patiently awaits her response, just like he always does.

“Yes.” The girl smiles, admiring the way the stars above them that speckled the night sky reflect upon the ocean waves, it’s tranquil ups and downs leading back into nowhere. “I am.”

She wasn’t lying. No, not really. Perhaps it’s the way the light from both the sparkler and the stars twinkle against her brilliant eyes that matters most at the moment. This night, like said before, is a night to be happy. So she will.

Maybe she was a little bit jealous tonight, for a dumb reason at that. Just the thought of the two made her stomach churn in sadness, but now, it does nothing. Instead, it just makes her smile a bit more.

“That’s good to hear. You’ve been quiet the whole night.”

A sweet, harmonious laugh escapes her.

“Have I? Sorry.”

And she’s back.

No more fabricated smiles and falsified lies. The vivacious (Y/N) was back, much to his relief.

“Hey Shouto,” she begins with a voice so gentle and fragile. (E/C) eyes shimmer under the starlight as she brings her fish closer to her, slowly unwinding the tie that held the plastic bag together.

“I love you.”

And like that, she sets the fish free into the ocean, watching its white and red fins swim far, far away.

This took wayyyyyyyy too long and I’m so sorry

This was rushed out since I was in a hospital bed when i wrote the ending

School is about to start again so things will take longer to get out (plus I broke a bone yesterday so yay)

But I hope you liked it anni!

#shouto #todoroki #shouto todoroki #shoto #shoto todoroki #shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #shoto x reader #mha #bnha #mha x reader #bnha x reader

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izanyas · 5 years

Text

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow (13)

Rating: M Words: 8,700 No warnings.

[Read from prologue]

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow Chapter 13

The handful of coins which Wei Wuxian stole from Lan Wangji soon became obsolete.

It was not such a problem for food. Game was aplenty at this time of the year, and soon enough Wei Wuxian had acquired a new bow to hunt with. When afternoon lingered over the mountains and the sun disappeared behind ensnowed summits, they both hunted together for their meal of the night, or the following day. The demonic arm Lan Wangji oft took out of its sealing pouch had no care for such things as roads or mountains; it pointed straightforwardly toward the rest of its body, forcing them to back away sometimes and take long, solitary detours through the wilderness. It was good to plan ahead for their meals.

There encountered very few villages. They saw only one bigger town, and chose not to stop in it for the night. Occasionally a farmer saw them pass before their house and offered them someplace warm to sleep in exchange for labor and company; more often than not, they took a closer look at Wei Wuxian and rescinded their offer.

Only once did they sleep inside someone else's house. Wei Wuxian was silent as he declined to help with food and offered to fix a wall of the garden shed instead; the old man who had invited them in shrugged his shoulders without word and sent him there, calling for his grandchild in a soft voice.

As he worked next to the girl who smelled of sweet liquor, Wei Wuxian finally relaxed. He slept for once without waking.

Sleeping together with Lan Wangji, outside in the cool nights of spring, soon became a habit. If Wei Wuxian had expected the Lan sect heir to put up a front of outrage at the thought of such impropriety, he was relieved to find that none of it came true. Lan Wangji never said a word to him as they settled for the night. Perhaps, like Wei Wuxian, he considered that sharing a cave during heat made such worries worthless.

On they went through the countryside, village after village and mountain after mountain. In the vast green valleys neighboring Lanling's territory, Wei Wuxian hunted rabbits for food. He cooked them over the fire and watched with something like humor as Lan Wangji refused them, sticking to rice and fruit and vegetable soups.

"If you had come to Yunmeng with me when we were young," he told him in jest, "I would have made you eat meat."

Lan Wangji's face betrayed no hatred for the idea, though his voice was deep and even. "I would have recognized the trick."

"You wouldn't have," Wei Wuxian laughed. "How lucky for you that I am a little wiser today. I know how terrible such a thing is—truly, there are days I look back and wish to slap myself across the face, Lan Zhan."

Lan Wangji watched him then with peaceful-looking eyes. He seemed to enjoy when such nostalgia struck Wei Wuxian; sometimes, he seemed to hate it too.

They didn't speak often. Not like this, not answering each other. Lan Wangji was a man of very few words, and those words were hard-earned, thought through, before ever leaving his mouth. He looked almost delicate in his efforts to be placating and follow Wei Wuxian's moods. Wei Wuxian himself could stand silence just fine after those years in Yiling—most of which he had spent inside the bloodpool cave in-between visits from Wen Ning and Wen Qing, barely hearing the sounds from the village outside settling for morning or night—but he found himself commenting on the people they met, on the landscapes they encountered. He spoke at length about a flower on the side of the path which he remembered Wen Qing using in her concoctions. He brightened at the sight of some birds, fat enough for a meal but too quick for his arrows. Those defeats, he took in good stride with Lan Wangji watching him.

Wei Wuxian realized after a week had passed that he looked forward to unclothing the haunted arm and seeing which way it pointed. He found that it was relief he felt upon knowing they were on the right track; he understood without saying so how Lan Wangji had saved him by offering to travel with him.

If he had been left to his own devices, dead-and-back and unknown to all, he had no idea what he would have done. He knew not where he should go.

The nights they spent in inns were perhaps the least enjoyable of the lot, he found. Though his back and behind were grateful for the relative softness of beds and pillows, and though waking up to warmth and a meal he didn't have to prepare himself was a relief, the presence of others was a hindrance more often than not.

The omega girl in Dafan had been something of a rarity, he realized the first time an innkeeper referred to him as Lan Wangji's omega.

"A room for you and yours?" she had asked, an alpha woman smelling of tilled earth, her brimstonescent husband standing not far behind and sending glares Wei Wuxian's way.

"Two rooms," Lan Wangji had replied.

Two rooms. The words echoed through the half-empty dining room as if carried by immense voice, and odd looks turned their way, inquisitive or even angry.

But Lan Wangji was a cultivator. His flowing robes seemed to repel dirt as they did dark energy, unlike Wei Wuxian's which were stained every way by the long days of travel. His very presence, his apparent wealth, his status all carried power. The scorned innkeepers dared not refuse his money—they dared not defy him.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian said as they sat at a far table and waited for food to be brought to them. "Will you tell me what has changed?"

Lan Wangji was silent. Wei Wuxian could tell that it was not out of a need to refuse, however.

"I learned that omega houses were outlawed ten years ago," he continued. "But I don't know why."

Lan Wangji said, "Lianfang-Zun outlawed them."

"Lianfang-Zun?"

"Jin Guangyao."

Jin Guangyao. Wei Wuxian had heard that name spoken in Jiang Cheng's voice only days ago, he recalled. He remembered wondering about it then.

"I don't believe Jin Guangshan allowed this easily," Wei Wuxian declared with a shake of his head. "Not with how he opposed me for years. I'm assuming this Jin Guangyao is one of his children?"

"Jin Guangshan is dead. Lianfang-Zun has been the leader of Lanlingjin for ten years."

"Dead?" he exclaimed. "How?"

For some reason, Lan Wangji's face tensed at his question. He shook his head wordlessly, the tips of his ears turning bright red. Wei Wuxian was not otherwise interested in the old alpha's death, so he did not press on.

The last time he had seen Jin Guangshan in person was at the bottom of the Burial Mounds, with the man spitting vitriol to him, calling him thief and deranged. Wei Wuxian thought privately that the world was well-rid of him. The state of Mo Xuanyu's life and body only made his vengefulness stronger.

"Jin Guangyao," he said softly. "This Lianfang-Zun, I wonder the sort of person he is."

"He is my brother's sworn ally," Lan Wangji replied. "As was the former Nie sect leader."

Former… then Chifeng-Zun was dead, too.

Wei Wuxian was not so glad to hear that. Nie Mingjue had been straightforward, fair in his own way, though he had only trusted in Wei Wuxian's abilities, never in his character. Wei Wuxian's memories of that day in the Nightless City were steeped in mud, but he knew that Nie Mingjue had not been present among those who wished to kill him.

He supposed one could trust Lan Xichen to choose the right brothers-in-arm.

"I still can't believe the sects allowed it," he said, bracing one palm against his cup of wine and sending a quick prayer for Nie Mingjue's soul. "Is this Jin Guangyao so powerful?"

"Some refused," Lan Wangji said succinctly. "Those he could not convince, he brought war to."

Wei Wuxian tried to picture what such an alpha could look like.

Lan Wangji must have read the curiosity on his face, for he went on, "Things had changed. There were not as many fights about it as you think."

Wei Wuxian wondered what it said about him that his heart squeezed with resentment.

All along, then, any sect leader could have stepped up and put an end to it all. All it would have taken was a word from one of them to guarantee freedom to those whom Wei Wuxian had to keep safe at the price of his reputation and health. How many days had he spent guarding the entrance of the Burial Mounds after Jin Guangshan had left that time, keeping himself awake with Wen Qing's drugs, making sure to bar entrance to those who would claim human lives as property?

"What about Lan Qiren," Wei Wuxian said hollowly.

"My uncle," Lan Wangji replied in something like kindness, "changed his mind long before Lianfang-Zun's order was carried out."

Wei Wuxian drank from the cup in his hand. The wine spread on his tongue almost as bitterly as the scent-masking paste.

That first night in an inn made them wary. They preferred the open night to civilization after that, keeping the path open before them as they followed the direction the arm gave them. They started using names for it so as not to make it struggle inside the pouch at Lan Wangji's waist. The arm seemed to feel when they spoke of it as of a corpse, a haunt; it jarred the spell on the pouch, tried to escape their hold when they took it out to make sure they were going the right way.

Night after night, Lan Wangji played Tranquility on his namesake guqin. Night after night Wei Wuxian took the bamboo flute and accompanied him, making his song softer and kinder despite the bluntness of the instrument. He tried many times to carve it into a better, more tunelike shape. He missed the smooth, black length of Chenqing, and the notes it could produce which never failed their task.

Traces of livinghood became sparser as the second week came to an end. The arm was taking them somewhere dangerously close to the Unclean Realms where Qinghenie dwelled—where Nie Huaisang lived, Wei Wuxian supposed, if no alpha heir was found to sweep the succession from him. This would also be something to see, he wondered. A beta sect leader.

Three nights later, the arm stopped pointing anywhere specific. It squirmed and fought and rolled in on itself, panicked or angered, driven to madness with proximity. Lan Wangji forced it back inside the sealing pouch without playing at all.

"So the rest of our dear friend is somewhere around here," Wei Wuxian said.

Lan Wangji gave a short hum in answer. He stopped at the entrance of the village they had reached, and Little Apple stopped by him without the need for orders.

It was a small thing, this village. A couple hundred inhabitants at most spread over less than forty houses, with an inn at its center which could host no more than ten guests if they chose to keep tight and squeezed together. Wei Wuxian was not surprised to find the same hatred in the eyes of those who looked at him there that he had known fifteen years ago. They welcomed Lan Wangji with wariness and watched Wei Wuxian with suspicion, as if scared that he would suddenly go feral and try to kill them all.

Those fears would not be so unfounded if only they knew who he was.

Still, money was money. The sight of Lan Wangji's purse was enough to convince the innkeepers to give them two rooms for the following nights, and with great weariness, Wei Wuxian allowed sleep to find him without eating dinner.

He woke up with all the smells and sounds of dawn.

"Let me sleep, Mo Xuanyu," he muttered with a twisted smile, rubbing his eyes against the too-bright light. "Of all the unfairness in your life, the greatest has to be that you woke so often before noon."

He washed himself clean of the previous days' dirt in the wide bucket set at the other side of the room. The nippy water finished waking him up, and he was wide awake by the time he made it out of the room and then out of the inn.

Lan Wangji was nowhere to be seen, but the smell of sandalwood clinged to the door next to his, indicating that he must still be inside. Wei Wuxian made his steps quieter so as not to warn him of his presence.

Down the stairs, a few guests were seated and talking over hot broth and warm liquor already. They watched Wei Wuxian walk toward the exit like hawks. Wei Wuxian tried not to pay attention to the aches that tension brought out of his back and shoulders. His hand stayed firmly clasped around the unnamed bamboo flute.

Once outside, he felt the same thing which he had when they arrived: some kind of energy absorbed by the soil and plants around, different than the resentment he could wield but not so far out of his reach. He had not told Lan Wangji of it yet, and had no idea if the Lan sect heir had felt it too when they arrived. He wanted to examine it on his own.

Wei Wuxian boiled water from the river to take the moonless tea. He sat near the bed of it as he swallowed down the disgusting beverage, wishing not for the first time that something could be made to turn the taste of it sweeter and trying to narrow down the location of the odd energy.

It felt a little like the goddess in Dafan had, and yet not at all similar.

A few minutes later, he could pinpoint it as coming from the woods which seemed to spread over a mile behind the village. Wei Wuxian put out the fire at his feet and washed the cup in the river.

He was unhurried as he walked toward the edge of the forest. Most of the village's inhabitants were now busy with their daily activities, some working the fields around and others mounting donkeys and horses to go wherever they needed to. Wei Wuxian had left Little Apple in the shed beside the inn. Judging by the animal's tenacious will to stay with him, he did not worry that he would flee.

How odd. Wei Wuxian had never been very liked by animals before, nor had he ever liked them very much.

He stood for a long time by the first trees of the forest once he had reached them. He was completely alone now, too far away from the small houses for anyone to bother with him, but it did not explain the silence of the place. Like in Dafan mountain after the goddess's first cry, it seemed all life had fled from the woods. Leaves fell into the wind without so much as a sound; he could hear no mice scurrying through the bushes, no deer or bears rustling the well-tread earth.

He brought the bamboo flute to his lips.

The music which he had used to calm Wen Ning in the mountain weeks ago came to him more easily this time. It filled him with quiet as he played, calling with kindness rather than urgency this time. He needn't turn around and watch for a sign of Wen Ning approaching; the ground did not shake, not this time, and Wen Ning's footsteps only rang with the softest rustle of chains.

Seeing him in daylight was different. Wei Wuxian doubted that many would have fled or cried out in fear at the sight of him, still and quiet like this, looking helplessly at his master.

The ache in his heart was familiar, too. "Wen Ning," he called. "Have you been following us?"

There was no answer. Wen Ning did not seem to have regained the consciousness which Wei Wuxian so painstakingly gifted him in the past, though his eyes were less empty. He almost looked as if he wished to speak.

Wei Wuxian stepped closer. Wen Ning gave no sign of danger or disquiet when he was touched, not even when Wei Wuxian turned his frail wrists this way and that to examine the thick metal chains locked around them.

"Who did this to you?" he asked without expecting a reply.

The chains were heavy, locked in place by sturdy bracelets made of the same iron. If Wen Ning had been alive, his skin would have chafed under them until it bled. As it was, Wei Wuxian could still see sign of wear on it, as layer upon layer of epiderma had peeled away.

He sighed and dropped Wen Ning's hands. "At least it looks like whatever spell was put on you is going away," he told him. "I hope it is gone the next time I call you, my friend. I have so much to ask you—so much to tell you."

The first would be, I'm sorry. But Wei Wuxian did not want those words to be spoken while Wen Ning was unable to hear them.

How he wished to speak with him. How he longed for the company of someone who had known him during those years in Yiling—of someone who would perhaps know what had become of the village there and its inhabitants.

"I wonder if you can feel it too?" Wei Wuxian asked out loud, taking a step closer in-between wide-trunked trees. "I haven't felt something like this in a long time. It reminds me of the Stygian Tiger Seal."

Not quite steeped in darkness but not quite wholesome either—that was the sort of energy that the Seal had suffused when not in use, the weight which Wei Wuxian had carried so long upon himself for fear of someone using his inattention to steal it.

Yes, the Stygian Tiger Seal should never have existed in this world. Wei Wuxian wondered with a shiver that he had ever created such a thing to be used, that he had ever been so foolish, so careless. So blind to the dangers of what he was doing.

These dangers seemed much less nebulous now.

He smelled sandalwood on the wind. "I will call for you again," he told Wen Ning. "Go, and keep following us, but stay hidden. Don't let anyone see you."

He briefly touched the side of Wen Ning's face. Mo Xuanyu was so much shorter than Wei Wuxian had been that the gesture made him feel like a child reaching helplessly for his parent.

With another trill of the flute, the Ghost General disappeared between the trees.

Wei Wuxian waited for Lan Wangji to join him patiently. It wasn't a minute before white robes appeared at the turn of the road; Lan Wangji was dressed as regally as ever, white and spotless against the bright sunlight, his black hair flowing behind his back gently.

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian greeted. "I apologize for not waiting for you."

"No need," Lan Wangji replied succinctly.

How odd to see him so accommodating, so free of the confrontation which had plagued their younger years. After what had happened at the inn in Dafan, Wei Wuxian expected to find Lan Wangji loath to address him.

He laughed to chase away his embarrassment. The memory still made him queasy. "Can you feel this energy?" he asked. At Lan Wangji's nod, he added, "It seems to be coming from inside the woods. I wonder what we'll find."

"A haunted castle."

"A haunted castle?"

"A villager said."

Wei Wuxian stroked his chin. If these woods were haunted, then it was possible that the arm did come from here. But how had it traveled from here to Mo village on its own?

Unless someone had planted it there.

But why Mo village, Wei Wuxian thought as they walked into the woods, such a small place, without any political strongholds or greater sects in its vicinity? Gusu was too far—if the mastermind has wished to harm the Lan clan, they should have set the demonic corpse in Caiyi Town or even at the entrance of the Cloud Recesses.

"Will your clan be fine without you, Lan Zhan?" he asked in the deep silence.

Lan Zhan stared at him with some confusion on his face.

"Without you," Wei Wuxian pressed. "Won't they be in trouble without their sect leader?"

"My brother is there," Lan Wangji replied.

Wei Wuxian batted the air with one hand at the mention of Lan Xichen. "I am talking about you, Lan Zhan, not your brother."

"My brother is our sect leader."

Wei Wuxian paused in his steps.

What little sounds the forest emitted around them muffled even further. Lan Wangji paused as well next to him, his face devoid of any inflexion of frustration or shame.

"But you," Wei Wuxian stuttered.

Lan Wangji stayed silent.

Try as he might, Wei Wuxian could not form a coherent thought. He stared at Lan Wangji until he was certain that the other should start prickling, should turn away in annoyance as he once would have done, but Lan Wangji did not. He said nothing. He bore Wei Wuxian's rudeness as one would just punishment.

"You are the Jade of Lan," Wei Wuxian said at last. He tried to keep his voice even, but shock, he thought, must be painting his words inquisitive. "You are—you were always your uncle's favorite. The greatest talent your clan has ever known. Your brother is a beta."

He had made direct mention of status on purpose, but not even this breach of propriety broke Lan Wangji's composure. "My brother is a fair leader," Lan Wangji simply replied.

"You think me so gullible."

"I would not lie to you."

"You were a better marksman and cultivator than your brother before you reached maturity," Wei Wuxian said, grabbing onto anger so as not to linger on what those words evoked in him. "I can see no reason why you would be replaced in the heirline."

Lan Wangji's answer was long in coming. Eventually, he admitted: "I made a mistake."

Wei Wuxian remembered, then, the angry words which had come out of Jiang Cheng's mouth in Dafan. You make a grave mistake if you still think us equals.

"You fell from grace," he recited. "Jiang Cheng said that."

"Yes," Lan Wangji said. "But that was not the mistake I made."

Wei Wuxian almost asked him what he meant before thinking better of it.

There must be a reason Lan Wangji was not forthcoming with his answers. Shame perhaps, or perhaps this was a clan secret, not something he should be telling outsiders. Judging by the faces that those two Lan juniors had made and the title they used on him—Hanguang-Jun—they must not have known about it either.

Of course Jiang Cheng had seen no need for such propriety, Wei Wuxian thought dryly. And he should know better than to pry as well.

"Well," he said. "I suppose this is one problem we do not need to think about."

"Had I been sect leader," Lan Wangji started.

He paused. Wei Wuxian watched him frown at the ground and shift back and forth on his feet almost imperceptibly.

"Had I been sect leader," Lan Wangji said. "I would have made you the same offer."

He met Wei Wuxian's eyes after that, blinking his long and dark lashes slowly, before turning away.

They walked for hours without finding anything. The woods here spread over flatter land than in Dafan, and they were sparser too, less lush and tricky to navigate. The trees stood wide apart, their trunks thick and solid, their canopy spread thinly. Golden sunlight filtered in through the leaves and shifted onto the dry ground. These were woods that animals should be running through, Wei Wuxian thought, woods made for hunting and meditating, and yet there was no sign of life, human or otherwise. Only the two of them and that strange shiver of energy.

Lan Wangji was the one who figured it out. He pointed wordlessly to an oddly-shaped root in the ground which they had noticed already near midday; it looked somewhat like the back of a turtle, shelled and domed over the ground, as if ready to let the head and feet of the animal out.

"Yes," Wei Wuxian muttered. "We are going in circles."

"Not lost," Lan Wangji said.

Wei Wuxian nodded. "I would have noticed if we took a turn we already knew. This is the work of a barrier."

The sun would set soon. They decided to head back toward the village for the night.

The streets seemed strangely subdued when they made their way to the inn. Whatever few villagers still roamed the streets did so quietly, hunched in on themselves or conversing in low voices. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji received more looks, if possible, than the night before.

They found the reason for what waiting for them inside the inn.

Nie Huaisang had not changed overly much in the years since Wei Wuxian had seen him. Even draped in softer silks than Wei Wuxian had ever seen Nie Mingjue wear, he still looked like the classmate he had met in Gusu during their understudies, down to the embroidered fan he hid his face behind and the very faint snowy scent clinging to him. At the sight of Lan Wangji stepping over the threshold, Nie Huaisang rose from the table where he had been served tea and bowed at the shoulders.

"Hanguang-Jun," he said with urgency. "Oh, I couldn't believe when I learned of you being here—if I may be so bold as to ask for a favor…"

His words died when he met eyes with Wei Wuxian.

Or rather, Wei Wuxian thought as he watched him try to inhale very subtly, as he looked for confirmation of what Mo Xuanyu's appearance inferred.

"So it is true," Nie Huaisang said. "I never thought… Well, I suppose it is only normal—Xichen-ge never said anything of you finding a, a—"

"He is not mine," Lan Wangji said.

His tone could almost be called frosty. What little irritation Wei Wuxian had mustered at the now-familiar misunderstanding vanished under dry humor.

Lan Wangji had not commented upon the situation thus far, but even he had to find offense in others suggesting that he was traveling with an unmated omega with this purpose in mind. Especially one who had made such improper advances upon him.

His stomach squirmed in remembrance.

"Yes," Nie Huaisang let out faintly. "Well, if—if I may ask you for something. Is there a room we can borrow to speak privately?" he asked the unkind tenant across the room.

With very bad grace, the man led them to a small parlor at the other end of the inn. The walls there were moist with rain, the wood eaten throughout. Wei Wuxian laid his fingers over a corner and thought he could break their structure apart with a shove of the shoulder.

"Lan Wangji," Nie Huaisang said nervously once they were alone. His gaze kept flickering toward Wei Wuxian, as if he expected him to excuse himself and leave any second. Wei Wuxian sat down in front of him and sent him an even smile. "Ah, I'm sure you have an idea of why I am here."

"It is about the barrier in the woods, isn't it?" Wei Wuxian asked.

Nie Huaisang did not hesitate long to answer. "Yes," he admitted. "I was about to write Xichen-ge for advice, since he knows about it already… It is somewhat of an embarrassment."

"A clan affair," Lan Wangji said.

"Indeed. I need to ask you… both of you, to be discreet."

Lan Wangji nodded silently. Wei Wuxian tapped his fingers atop the wooden table, eyeing the surprisingly firm grip Nie Huaisang had over his delicate fan.

"You have heard, I suppose, of the castle in the woods," Nie Huaisang said.

"Heard of, yes," Wei Wuxian replied. "But we were not able to approach it."

"In ordinary circumstances, I would order you to leave it at that. This place is sacred for Qinghenie—not somewhere anyone but the sect leader should know of," he pressed, almost imperious. "But now, not even I can access it."

Wei Wuxian frowned. "What sort of place is it?"

"A burial site. Somewhere reserved for the leaders of the clan."

Wei Wuxian stopped running his fingers against the table.

Nie Huaisang suffered their stare with only the lightest of blushes. "You know of my clan's saber techniques," he told Lan Wangji. "You know where they came from."

"Butchery."

"Yes. Yes, butchery."

The Nie sect was famous for two things.

One was the harsh environment in which they dwelled—harsher, some said, than Qishanwen's desert city. The Unclean Realms were said to stand in the midst of endless marshlands, where travelers got caught in mud or bit by poisonous snakes if they strayed too far from broad roads. Wei Wuxian had never seen them in person. Looking at Nie Mingjue all those years ago, he had thought he could understand how such a man could grow out of fighting a constant battle against water and earth, but Nie Huaisang's delicate manners and frail character always made him believe that such stories were made up. After all, how could someone who grew under such conditions be scared of Lan Qiren?

The second and perhaps better-known thing was Qinghenie's saber techniques. Wei Wuxian had seen it in use when he and Nie Mingjue fought side by side one eventful day of the Sunshot Campaign. He had glimpsed Nie Huaisang's own saber when the Wen sect had forcefully gathered them all to indoctrinate and stolen their weapons.

It had been taken, like Suibian, by Wen Chao.

His fingers felt cold. He rubbed them against his mouth both to warm them up and chase the taste of dirt from his tongue, understanding a second too late that Nie Huaisang had started speaking again.

"... ancestor's sabers are great weapons, great weapons indeed," he was saying almost fearfully, "but their power comes at a cost. It is no secret now that most of my clan's leaders fall victim to qi deviation from handling them for too long."

Wei Wuxian wondered if such a thing had happened to Nie Mingjue. If the famous Chifeng-Zun had, like his ancestors, fallen victim to the gluttonous appetite of his weapon of choice. Nie Huaisang did not offer any further information on the topic.

"Those weapons cannot be destroyed," Nie Huaisang said. "You have to understand that what I am telling you is a secret of the utmost value—if others knew, many would try to come and steal those weapons." He took in a shaky breath. "They cannot be destroyed or sealed in the common way," he went on. "For centuries we have 'buried' them like we do our leaders. This burial site is the haunted castle you heard about."

"I suppose you do not simply mean that the sabers are left underground," Wei Wuxian said.

Nie Huaisang shook his head. "Indeed, young master…?"

"Mo Xuanyu."

"Young master Mo. Indeed, they are not buried. These weapons are as alive as fierce spirits, and once forged and used by masters with enough strength, they cannot be sated. They need to keep feeding."

Wei Wuxian had an idea what sort of food Nie Huaisang was speaking of.

"Please do not think that we treat this tradition lightly or murder innocents for the sake of it," Nie Huaisang urged, confirming his thoughts. "The corpses we bury we there belong to criminals who would have been hanged or beheaded anyway. It is better for everyone to let the sabers feed on their resentful energy than to let them come alive and attack the living. The barrier keeps people from wandering inside the burial grounds."

"And now," Wei Wuxian said, "you cannot get in either."

Nie Huaisang nodded, pathetically desperate.

So this was the kind of sect leader Nie Huaisang had become, Wei Wuxian thought, watching him bargain one-sidedly for Lan Wangji's help. Helpless to fix his own clan's problems, hanging as always onto someone else's robes and begging for help. He had been like this as a student with Wei Wuxian, and Wei Wuxian had no doubt that he was like this with Lan Xichen, whom he still addressed as an older brother.

He was never made for the role, after all; he was weak of character even if he had not been born beta, and any way his older brother should have stayed alive much longer. Nie Huaisang should never have worn the mantle of sect leader. It was a shame Nie Mingjue had not left behind a more worthy heir.

Still, Wei Wuxian had never disliked Nie Huaisang. He still remembered the day the boy had watched him spar with Jiang Cheng in the Cloud Recesses and shyly offered to be his opponent for a turn.

No one else back then had wanted to speak with him, let alone risk the shame of harming or touching him. No one except Nie Mingjue's cowardly brother and Lan Wangji himself, who had never sought combat with Wei Wuxian, only suffered his insistence to disrupt peace and retaliated.

"We will help, sect leader Nie," he declared.

Nie Huaisang looked at him incredulously. To Wei Wuxian's surprise, he did not seek Lan Wangji's approval and simply replied, "Thank you!"

It was not long afterward that Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian stood outside the inn, watching Nie Huaisang climb onto the greenish blade of his saber and elevate into the nightly air. Soon the glare of his weapon was lost amidst stars and moonlight, and he vanished entirely.

"He couldn't even stay to make sure we finished the job," Wei Wuxian commented airily. "Oh well, Huaisang was never very brave."

"You do not disapprove."

"I don't. I've always liked Nie Huaisang. Call it sentimentality, if you wish, but I do want to help him. And our dear friend must want us to go to these graves anyway."

Lan Wangji did not reply with words. Instead he nodded his head in understanding and stepped into the inn again, Bichen shining softly at his hip under the pale moonlight.

Wei Wuxian was struck that night with the thought that Lan Wangji had never offered to have them travel by sword. Surely following the arm's directions would be easier when one could fly over mountains and ravines or cut through dense forest, and they could have in two weeks assembled the body instead of simply reached a piece which might not make it whole, but Lan Wangji had never offered. The thought did not even seem to have crossed his mind.

It could be that his propriety would suffer from such close contact. Wei Wuxian himself knew not how he would have reacted to it; the cold from earlier had not vanished from his hands and instead crawled up the length of his elbows and arms till it reached his shoulders, till it rested at his throat. For the first time in many years, the face which haunted his dreams was not skinned and eyeless, but whole. Haughty and arrogant and smelling of firesmoke.

He slept fitfully. Dawn came upon him with the chill of sweat on skin and the knots left behind by nightmares. His stomach rolled emptily through threats of nausea. His mouth tasted of dirt and dew-wet grass.

Lan Wangji and himself walked back into the forest after a bout of breakfast which Wei Wuxian barely touched. The heightened energy in the air seemed to make the day colder, as if this were fall and not spring, and humidity from the river clinged to Wei Wuxian's clothes, making them stick to his skin like sweat. During the first hours of day he tried his best to cut through the barrier, playing with Lan Wangji to push it away, to make it traversable. None of their spells worked. Soon, Wei Wuxian was shivering, his teeth clacking with the cold.

Lan Wangji frowned at him as they took a break, midday brightening overhead. "We should go back," he said.

"This is too frustrating," Wei Wuxian answered. "I will figure it out."

But then he could not think at all, for the loud sound of a dog barking reached them.

Wei Wuxian could have felt shame over his own reaction, he supposed, if he had not been too busy hiding behind Lan Wangji's back and chasing away memories of being run after and bitten by mutts for scraps of food. Lan Wangji himself seemed not to mind that Wei Wuxian stood behind him just shy of actual touch. His scent mixed with the sound of childhood memories, with the endless cold through Wei Wuxian's body, with the very taste of the air around, weighed down by water and sunlight.

It was a childish reaction to a very inconsequential fear, something Wei Wuxian ought to have been rid of as cleanly as he had been rid of regret the moment he first fell into Yiling, coreless and abandoned. He watched Jin Ling call for his beast with his heart in his throat and shook Mo Xuanyu's body with all the strength of that painful, unmarred golden core, until he was certain that no fear showed upon his face. He clenched his hands into fists so that they would stop trembling.

"Mo Xuanyu!" Jin Ling exclaimed at the sight of them, his dog now grabbed by the collar and panting excitedly by his feet. "What are you doing here?"

I could ask you the same thing, Wei Wuxian thought.

He had no time to voice it before someone else called, "Did you find him, A-Ling?"

Another figure emerged from the wide gaps between the trees.

Short and slender and barely different than the last time Wei Wuxian had seen her; though she was not grieved now, though her face and robes were free of the blood which had drenched the starved soil of Qishan's Nightless City; her hair bearing the same twin breads that Jiang Cheng had taken to wearing after Jiang Fengmian died.

Jin Ling was almost taller than her. The hand she put on his shoulder was bare but for Zidian glinting on her index finger.

"Of course I found him," Jin Ling mumbled.

Jiang Yanli smiled at him. She pinched his cheek; he spluttered and reddened and threw Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji panicked, embarrassed looks. "Hanguang-Jun," she called after freeing her son. She bowed and added, cold as ice, "My brother told me he had the displeasure of meeting you recently. I did not think our paths would cross."

Lan Wangji nodded stiffly towards her.

Wei Wuxian wanted to steel himself for her attention, but the second she looked at him, he knew any effort he could spend would be fruitless.

"Mo Xuanyu," she said. "It is good to see you well."

A-Xian, he heard as an echo, a memory moving before his eyes of lotuses and hot summers, of her arm knocking against his as they walked side by side.

"Madam Jin," Wei Wuxian replied.

For the first time since waking up in that shed after Mo Xuanyu's sacrifice, he bowed.

She was still staring at him when he straightened his back. The dog, which has yelped affectionately at her when she appeared, now emitted another bark of excitement. Wei Wuxian did not think he managed to conceal his shiver as much as he wanted to.

Jiang Yanli's fingers curled around the animal's collar. "A-Ling heard of odd sightings in the area," she said. "Is this the reason for your presence, Hanguang-Jun?"

"Yes," Lan Wangji replied.

"I see. Then we shall leave you to it."

"Mother—"

"They arrived first, A-Ling," Jiang Yanli reprimanded. Her eyes had not left Wei Wuxian. "I doubt master Lan will share his findings with us, and I know better than to compete against such a talented cultivator."

Wei Wuxian looked at Lan Wangji. To his surprise, Lan Wangji looked back and said, "I won't share."

Jiang Yanli nodded as if she had expected it. She whistled at the dog to order it to follow and turned around, Zidian catching light on her hand like a gem. "Come now," she called to her son. "We'll sleep in the village."

"It's not fair!"

"If your uncle heard you speak like this, he would scold you, you know. Do not think I won't just because Lianfang-Zun likes to spoil you rotten."

Jin Ling moaned and grumbled loudly enough to awaken all the dead in those woods. He followed her with dragging feet, the peony sewn at the back of his uniform flickering under lights and shadows.

Only when they were gone did Wei Wuxian relax. Only then did he allow himself a short, empty laugh, rubbing a clammy hand over his face.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said.

"I'm fine." The words ached as they pushed past his lips, but they were not a lie. Not fully. "I was surprised, that's all. I never thought we would meet so many acquaintances in one day."

He smiled for good measure, letting his hand drop again. Lan Wangji said nothing more.

He stayed closer to his side as they searched through the afternoon again. His knee brushed Wei Wuxian's when they sat to play against the barrier, the pace of his music unhurried and yet a little shakier than before. When the sky darkened with the promise of night and they decided to head back, he walked right by Wei Wuxian's side.

The arrival of more strangers had done nothing to quiet the villagers. Once again they suffered looks and even the odd comment or two, little as they cared about those. Not even the weight of Lan Wangji's purse could stop the innkeeper from glaring at them this time.

It made sense, Wei Wuxian supposed. He had hesitated upon entering the inn, wary of seeing Jiang Yanli again—wary of hearing Jin Ling's voice—but they must have both gone up to their rooms already. In the small dining room, he and Lan Wangji were the only guests.

Wei Wuxian was not surprised to find sleep evading him for endless hours.

He did not linger on the memories and thoughts trying to plague his mind. There had been no time to in the short few days before he died, and he had no desire to allow Mo Xuanyu's core to sharpen them to clarity and make him relive them as he had stupidly let happen when meeting Jin Ling.

Those who had died then could not be brought back, not even by his hand. Not even if they had wanted to.

He felt morning approach before he saw it. He rose from the bed, still-dressed and entirely sleepless, crouching by the water tub to wash his face and hands. He was of half a mind, he found, to call Wen Ning again. To call him and walk with him to the barrier in the woods and have his only friend—his only weapon—once more fight his battles for him.

The latter was out of the question. Checking on Wen Ning's condition, however, was not a bad idea. Wei Wuxian closed the door to his room silently and made his way down the stairs of the inn. No one was around any more this early before sunrise. He boiled water for moonless tea and drank it as scalding as he could.

Outside, the air was colder. The weight of the haunted sabers' spirits seemed to want to push the soil down till it crumbled underfoot, seemed to want them all to fall into an abyss and break apart, buried and forgotten as they were. Wei Wuxian wound his cloak more tightly around himself and walked into the shed by the side of the inn. The door of it opened with a small, creaking noise, and inside he saw Little Apple's head rise alertly.

"Hello," he called to the donkey, chuckling.

Little Apple was a quiet animal. Wei Wuxian had not heard him bray or seen him panic since he had stolen him in Mo village. He acted for all intents and purposes as if Wei Wuxian had always been his master. Now he bowed his head to let Wei Wuxian pat it and scratch between his long ears.

"I'll be making some noise in a moment," he said. "Don't be scared of my guest, now."

The donkey looked at him with deep and soulful eyes.

Before Wei Wuxian could grab the bamboo flute from his waist and put it to his lips, loud barking echoed through the village.

He froze. It must be Jin Ling's dog, he thought in a panic, for he had not seen or heard any other dogs here and the sound of it was similar to earlier during the day. Uselessly, he looked around to defend himself, stumbling on a pile of wood and making it crash loudly against the ground.

Immediately, the barking came closer to the shed. Wei Wuxian realized with horror that he had not closed the door behind himself. No sooner had he noticed that the dog itself barged in, running toward him and barking loudly.

"No no no," he cried out, backing away as quickly as he could and making more things fall in the penumbra, "go away, back off—"

The dog bit at the hem of his pants and pulled, making Wei Wuxian trip and his heart leap up his chest. That same chest became heavier with the dog's front paws; Wei Wuxian smelled its breath in his face, felt the cold tip of its nose brush his chin and heard its barking as if they were drums inside his ears—piercing, deafening, pouding like a headache.

His eyesight whitened in sheer, irrational fear. He stopped breathing altogether.

Then the dog's weight was pulled off of him. He heard through the dizzying rush of his own blood the sound of a voice scolding it, was even aware enough to place its familiarity, but his shaking was such that he could not find footing enough to rise. When he managed to gasp in enough breaths to chase the fog from his mind, a great, acute ache had spread through his entire torso.

Jiang Yanli stood at the entrance of the shed, dressed in warmer clothes than she had worn during the day and holding the mutt back by the collar around its neck. She struggled with it for a moment longer—the beast truly looked mad, barking and drooling and shaking every way—before she managed to throw it outside the shed and close the door behind it firmly.

She sighed, wiping her trembling hands. Wei Wuxian pressed a fist over his chest in hope of containing his panic.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. They breathed and breathed until at last the dog outside quieted.

Then Jiang Yanli asked, "Are you well?"

Wei Wuxian nodded. Realizing how dark the shed had become after she closed the door, and that she probably could not see him, he said: "Yes."

"Good, that's… that's good."

It was a different kind of dread he felt upon hearing her move his way.

Her steps did not drag. She had always been more elegant than either he or Jiang Cheng cared to be—Jiang Cheng because he had no obligation to, Wei Wuxian because he did—and so her feet were light upon the dirt floor, almost inaudible. Her clothes brushed against the enclosure where Little Apple was kept.

She stopped when her boots brushed the tips of his own. Even in the darkness, her gaze weighed on him as heavily as a mountain.

"You're not Mo Xuanyu," she said.

Wei Wuxian could not look at her. Not her face, not the rest of her body either, as he found his eyes avoiding the length of purple robes covering her legs and falling to the floor instead.

"I met Mo Xuanyu," Jiang Yanli went on. Her voice was shaking. "Madam Jin often called for his company before he… before he left Golden Carp Tower."

"I hope she is well," Wei Wuxian answered.

Jiang Yanli laughed. It sounded hollow. "I had my doubts when A-Cheng brought A-Ling back to Lanling and told me what happened," she went on. "I don't think he realized. He was so angry at letting a demonic cultivator go, and he had never heard of Mo Xuanyu, but I did. I knew—what he said—Mo Xuanyu could not have done that."

Wei Wuxian thought of the bloody array in which he had woken. He thought, not for the first time, that despair could push anyone into doing anything.

"You didn't do anything to convince him otherwise either, did you."

"Madam Jin," Wei Wuxian said, "I think you are mistaken."

"Don't call me that." Her voice moaned over the words, pleading. "You never called me that, even after I married Zixuan."

She hadn't wanted him to.

She kneeled slowly by his side, one of her legs pressed to his own. "I had doubts," she said, putting a hand at his shoulder. "It's why I insisted on accompanying A-Ling here, after I heard that Lan Wangji had been sighted, even though I knew it was a fool's dream. But now, I am certain."

Her hand squeezed Wei Wuxian's shoulder and then pressed closer to his neck, sliding behind him entirely to tangle in his hair. It was warm and soft as he remembered, despite the calluses that swordwielding had raised across her palm.

"I think," she said shakily, "that I should be apologizing to Lan Wangji on my knees."

"Shijie—"

"A-Xian."

She crushed his body against her and buried her face in his neck, wetting it with her tears and her deep, shaking inhales. "You smell like before," she cried. "It is you, it is you, oh, A-Xian."

Wei Wuxian could count the number of times he had been hugged since his parents' death on the fingers of one hand. Most of those had been from Jiang Yanli; once had been Jiang Cheng; the last and only time he had been hugged by someone not family, it was in Qishanwen's omega house, with Wen Yueying's small arms locked so tightly around his hips that he had feared she would break them.

None of those embraces came close to making him feel how this one did.

"A-Xian," Jiang Yanli cried again and again into his neck, shaking so violently that he thought she would fall and make him follow her down. She weeped even harder when he wrapped his arms around her too—when he squeezed her against his front until there was not an inch of room between them anywhere, until he felt every breath she took as if they were his own.

The dog outside barked loudly again, making him tense in a spasm. Jiang Yanli hiccuped softly and patted his hair, saying, "It's okay, I'm here, I'm here—"

He was nine years old again in the circle of her arms, fallen from the very tree he had climbed, deathly afraid of displeasing the people who had taken in him and fed and clothed him.

"Shijie," he said, unsurprised to find his own eyes wet. He crushed the tears against the top of her hair.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her, needed to say to her. There was nothing he deserved less than to be held in her arms after he brought her nothing but ruin, nothing but grief, in his carelessness and arrogance. He had harmed her, he thought, feeling with his fingers the deep scar atop her right shoulder which climbed up the side of her neck under the cover of her hair. He had abandoned her, abandoned Jiang Cheng and his own clan. He had stolen her only dream from her and then crushed it down to dust—he had orphaned her son and made her a widow.

He should be asking her for mercy. He should be offering her his head. He should be bowing as Jin Zixuan had before his last breath left him.

Instead he held her and said nothing at all, allowing her to hold and touch him as he never allowed anyone, breathing in her river-like scent, crushing her sobs against him. Darkness lightened around them with the coming of dawn and they sat, pressed together, into the dirt and dust, amidst broken straw and heavy animal scents.

There was nowhere else Wei Wuxian wanted to be.

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#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #fic: and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow #featured

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