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hottpinkpenguin · 2 years

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May I make a request for Druig? An angsty one with a happy ending (👀Or not, I live for it) Druig wanted to ask mortal!reader if she wanted to marry him with the help of their kid (boy or girl) as a surprise but when he turned around, they were gone. Nothing but dust was in their spot. Panics sets in and he went crazy looking for them. So of course after five years once everyone came back, he looks for them again and finds them.

Author's note: Omggg loved writing this, beautiful ask. Thank you!!! I'm separating it into two parts - here's part one! Pt2 on its way (edit: read part 2 here). Hope you enjoy :)

Irises - Chapter I

Part of the Druig x Elena AU (see full AU list here)

Characters: Druig x Fem!OC (Elena)

Summary: Druig plans a proposal for Elena but his plans change when Thanos extinguishes half of all life in the universe

Warnings: emotional pain

2018

Druig tried to bite back the nervous bile in his throat, his hands shaking as he held the small black ring box in one hand, his daughter Lyla’s small hand clasped in his other.

“Daddy, what’s wrong?” Lyla asked, looking up at him with gentle trusting hazel eyes. Druig never got over those eyes; they were Elena’s eyes, after all.

He smiled indulgently, patting her lovingly on the head and tousling her honey colored curls.

“Just nervous, petal,” he replied honestly. She nodded knowingly, which prompted a soft laugh to escape his lips. ‘Far too wise for her age,’ he thought, smiling internally as he thought of the countless times he’d said the very same to Elena out loud. ‘Only because her father is literally the oldest man on the planet,’ she always laughed back, usually giving him a teasing pinch on the waist followed by a quick peck on the cheek.

Druig always felt a thrill run up his spine when Elena called him ‘father’. He wasn’t Lyla’s father biologically - Druig was fairly certain that was impossible, given his status as an Eternal - but he had been in Lyla’s life since before her birth. She, like her mother, was the source of his daily joy.

It felt foolish to be nervous at this point. After all, Elena and Druig had been together for years. Druig chalked his nerves up to his perpetual disbelief that he’d found her. After thousands of years watching humans stumble through life, killing each other and maiming Earth with their inventions, he’d never thought he’d be capable of standing them, let alone loving one.

Then he’d met Elena. Gentle, thoughtful, exuberant, uncomplicated Elena. He loved her for her charm, her trusting nature and optimism, her soft smile and sharp wit. The breathtaking smile and bottomless eyes didn’t hurt either. He found her presence was the only place he felt relaxed, at peace. She was his oasis.

He’d always found the human idea of marriage laughable at best, barbaric at worst. He’d seen too many human love matches dissolve into disloyalty and bitterness. But he’d do anything for Elena, and when he’d found her coyly leafing through a bridal magazine at a book store, trying to nonchalantly hide it from him, he’d first confronted the thought that, even though marriage seemed unnecessary in his mind (as if he’d ever give his heart to anyone else anyway), it was a right of passage that she longed for. And, despite his initial grumpiness at the whole prospect, he’d found himself secretly relishing the proposal planning. Sersi and Sprite’s excitement seemed to be rubbing off on him.

He’d asked Elena to let him take Lyla out for breakfast so Elena could catch up on sleep. If she was suspicious at his suggestion that she treat herself to a relaxing manicure and join them for lunch in the park, she didn’t let it show.

And Druig’s day had started out with breakfast for two, just Lyla and him. Just like her mother, she gave Druig a peace in his soul he’d never known. She was more and more like Elena every day, in the way she quirked her lip when she was deep in thought or in her picky food choices. He’d never get tired of watching Lyla grow into her own woman, but he secretly loved how much like her mother she was.

And, just like her mother would, Lyla tugged on his hand happily as the two made their way across the manicured green lawn to the picnic spot, already prepared by the loving hands of Sersi and Sprite.

“When’s mama coming?” Lyla asked, looking up at Druig and squinting through the noonday sun.

“Any minute now, little one,” Druig replied, crouching down so he was eye level with her. “Remember what I asked you to help me with?” Druig handed her the velvet ring box; she took it with a serious expression on her face, holding it with both hands. She nodded intently.

“As soon as Mummy gets here, I’m going to ask her to close her eyes. Auntie Sprite is going to help keep Mummy from spying our pretty picnic spot, so when she opens her eyes she’s going to see it!”

Lyla laughed giddily. “She’s gonna be so surprised!”

Druig nodded, hoping that Lyla’s predictions would come true. “Yes, I think so,” he assured her, a grin spreading across his face as he watched Lyla beam with the simple joy of surprising her mother.

“Once Mummy sees the spot, I want you to come over with these flowers and hand me the box, ok?” Druig handed Lyla a bouquet of irises - Elena’s favorite. Although the bouquet was ostentatiously large (Druig made note of that, wanting to remember to roll his eyes pointedly at Sersi for intentionally ordering the biggest arrangement she could find) and nearly swallowed Lyla whole, she took it in her arms with admirable determination.

“I remember, Daddy,” she announced. Druig winked at her and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“Thank you, petal. Here comes Mummy.”

He spotted Elena in the distance. Still, after all these years, she took his breath away. Walking calmly through the park, gazing around with a pleasant smile on her face. Druig knew exactly what she’d say to him if he was walking beside her: “Oh Dru, what a gorgeous day! I can almost taste the sunshine!” She loved this time of year, and this park.

Sprite, who had remained unobtrusively on a park bench nearby, saw Elena approaching. Druig recognized the subtle glint of gold around her hands as she used her powers to trick Elena’s eyesight into seeing nothing more than an unadorned patch of grass where Druig, Lyla, and the picnic blanket sat assembled. Although Elena generally groused at having the Eternals’ powers used on her, Druig hoped she would forgive him this one indulgence.

Sprite nodded at him. That was the signal. With a deep breath in, Druig walked out to meet Elena.

“Hello, my love,” he announced softly so as not scare her. She startled a bit, but realization quickly spread over her features.

“Dru! What is this?” she laughed as Druig caught her hands in his, pulling her knuckles to his lips. “Where’s Ly?”

“She’s here, don’t worry. We planned a little surprise for you.” Druig lead Elena through the park. He marveled at how trusting she was; even after having the powers of sight rendered entirely useless, she followed Druig without a moment’s hesitation. He felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him as he pulled her close.

Lyla backed away, still holding the irises (although struggling to see over the top of the dark purple blooms, he noted) and the ring box. She took retreat behind an oak. Druig smiled at her; her commitment to the element of surprise was commendable.

Druig lead Elena the last few steps, angling her body so she would have the most breathtaking view of the picnic blanket and the pond beyond, sunlight glinting off it in beautiful beams.

“Elena, I love you. I wanted to bring you to here to remind you of that. You deserve this, and more.” Druig nodded to Sprite, who let her powers recede, pulling away the facade. Elena squealed delightedly as the reality of her surroundings hit her. She threw her arms unabashedly around Druig’s neck, pulling him into a soft, sweet kiss. He held her there for just a moment, relishing the feel of her smile against his mouth. But he couldn’t let himself get distracted. He pulled away, sinking down to one knee, holding her left hand in his. He looked up at her, marveling at the intensity of her hazel eyes. Elena’s unoccupied hand flew to her mouth as realization set in. It was so stereotypically human, but so genuine and pure, Druig couldn’t help but laugh a bit. He felt his nerves wash away, replaced by a fullness and a warm content.

“Elena…” With a pointed look, Druig turned to the tree Lyla had hidden behind. His smile slackened just a bit when he realized Lyla wasn’t there. He waited for a breath, thinking perhaps she would come out.

“Dru, what’s happening?” Elena asked. At first, Druig thought she was referencing his hesitation, but in the next moment he recognized a new pitch to her voice: fear. His stomach knotted at this realization, and suddenly he felt time slow to an agonizing crawl.

He turned back to Elena, catching Sprite’s eye in the process. She had stood up from the bench and was running towards them. Horror and confusion and shock written all over her face. Arms reaching out as if bracing to catch falling glass sure to shatter. The knot in Druig’s stomach tightened as he looked back to Elena.

At first, he didn’t notice anything awry. Then he saw it: the way Elena’s eyes were widened in shock, the terrified squeal that escaped her lips. Seeing it was nothing like feeling it: her hand disintegrate in his grasp. What had once been soft, warm skin turned to papery ash in his hands.

Druig’s mind reeled. What was this? Panic rose in his throat. He looked into Elena’s eyes, his mouth opening and closing futilely. What was he trying to say? What was happening?

“Dru-” He watched in horror as those enormous hazel eyes, terrified and pleading, turned to the same papery ash as her hands. A soft breeze blew the ash away with the softest, cruelest sigh.

Then, silence.

Deafening silence.

It felt like years before Druig felt Sprite’s frantic hands on his shoulders. He blinked, feeling as if moving through pine sap, trying to will himself to breath. Sprite’s voice called to him as if from the surface of water he’d sunken into.

“Druig! DRUIG!” She was shaking him.

As quickly as time had slowed, in a similarly agonizing fashion it suddenly sped up. Adrenaline pulsed through his body. Where was Elena? Lyla? What happened? He began to hear the far off sounds of screams, crying.

“DRUIG, look at me!” Sprite’s eyes met his. He saw his own confusion and dread mirrored in hers. “What happened? What was that?”

Druig sprang to his feet. He hadn’t realized he’d still be on his knees.

“Elena!” he said. It was soft at first. His voice felt strange and cracked. He strained against the tears threatening to overtake him. “Elena!” Louder this time, but not nearly loud enough. His fists shook, his heart pounding. Hot tears pooled in his eyes. “ELENA! ELENA!” He screamed so loud he meant to shatter the sky. His lungs seemed to be both overwhelmed by the sheer amount of air they were taking in and miserably unprepared for the job.

Druig wasn’t sure how long he screamed for, but it was dusk before he’d stopped. He’d wandered through the park once if he’d done so fifty times. He was hoarse and his entire body hurt, as if he’d been fighting Deviants for the last ten thousand years. He’d cried as many tears as his body could produce, there were none left. Suddenly, as if the weight of reality had been dropped on him from the heavens, he crashed to his knees. The bouquet of irises he’d been clutching all day slid from his grasp. It had started raining - when? Druig passively realized he hadn’t noticed when - and his jeans quickly soaked through on the knees. He welcomed it. For some indescribable reason, he wanted to be as uncomfortable as he could make himself. He let silent, tearless sobs rip through his body.

Recognizing her friend had exhausted himself, Sprite gingerly stepped forward. She’d followed him all afternoon as he’d wandered through the park as if in a fever dream. Unlike him, she’d stayed completely silent, the shock seemed to have completely absorbed her voice. She had pieced together from the fractured conversations of passers-by and from the report that Sersi had given her when they’d frantically made contact a few hours ago that this had happened everywhere. People, gone. Just vanished, like dust.

Sprite’s ribs felt as if they were crushed by a vice. The sheer size of this event was incomprehensible. And as she watched her fellow Eternal and friend quake under the weight of his own grief, the understanding that billions of people across the world were feeling something similar took her mind in a stranglehold, paralyzing her.

After a few moments, Sprite felt her arm reach out, grasping Druig’s shoulder. He let out a pitiful sob in response, his hand flying to tangle with hers as if holding on for dear life.

“She’s gone, Dru,” Sprite whispered. There wasn’t much else to say. Druig knew it. Part of him wished he could stay in his grief-ridden delirium, but he slowly felt his logical mind reawakening. Starting to connect the dots was sure to be a more excruciating process, but there was nothing for it.

He nodded once, unable to speak. He let Sprite lead him home. It wasn’t until he was there, sitting in the darkness, staring aimlessly at the wall, that he realized he’d left the irises in the park.

read part 2 here

#druig x reader #druig imagine #druig angst #druig x oc #eternals #eternals imagine #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #marvel angst #marvel imagine #the snap #druig #druig x female reader #druig fluff #marvels eternals #druig x elena au #druig x elena oc

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ahtsumu · 4 years

Text

again and again and again ; ushijima wakatoshi

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x f!reader

synopsis: every august 13th, a void opens in your chest. the universe is one sick bastard.

tag(s): soulmate!au, very angsty, equally fluffy, reincarnation!au, prince!ushijima, rebel!ushijima. android!ushijima, dad!ushijima, pro-volleyball player!ushijima ; warning(s): lots of death n dying, suggestive themes, light profanity ; wc: 4.8k

a/n: happy birthday ushi!!! inspired by cloud atlas and the raven cycle but you don’t have to have seen either to understand this fic. tbh it’s just a bunch of different au’s tied together by the strings of fate lol. a thousand thank you’s to @dorkyama for beta-ing!

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020

It’s another August 13th and Ushijima Wakatoshi might die today.

Glumly, you push away the plate of breakfast in front of you, cross your arms over the new space, and rest your forehead down as if in front of a grave.

“Please,” you beg with eyes shut. “Let Ushijima Wakatoshi live today.”

(You’ve whispered this phrase infinite times–– so often that it has a home in your mouth like a cavity.)

SOMEWHERE IN WASHINGTON, 2012

When you first meet Ushijima–– the first first time–– it’s evening and you’re lost in a meadow somewhere in Washington. Where exactly doesn’t quite matter and, even if it did, you wouldn’t be able to remember. At least, not at this moment. Because you see something most peculiar.

Under the half-lit sky, in the glade of overgrown sweet vernal grass and marigolds and daisies, a figure stands paler than the moon overhead.

The body belongs to a young man dressed in a sweater and slacks. His dark hair parts on the side, stopping right above a pair of firm dark eyes. Thin lips press in a perfunctory line, sharp nose radiates an aura of authority.

And yet, he looks lost.

“Hello?” you call out. The boy doesn’t respond, only continues to hover in the middle of the clearing with the same confounded expression on his face. So you ignore the pounding of your heart in your chest and inch closer until you’re just feet away, shivering. It’s a strangely cold day for July, you think.

“Can you tell me your name?” you ask. Seconds pass in silence as he stares past–– no, through–– you. With your thudding heartbeat and shallow breaths still the only sounds in the meadow, you realise that you may have to try something else.

Gently, you touch the pads of your fingers to his shoulder. A fresh wave of ice floods through your veins, raising goosebumps all over your skin. More curiously, though, your fingers fall through said shoulders. It feels like plunging your hand into a bucket of ice.

Eyes wide, you lunge backwards. A ghost?

No, ghosts aren’t real.

(If that’s the case, then what is he?)

At your touch, the boy’s head jerks up. Life floods his gaze. Blinking, he says, “Ushijima.” His voice is low and smooth, but quiet. Firm. He looks around the meadow as if seeing it for the first time.

“Is that all?”

Ushijima’s focus returns to you, this time with the addition of furrowed brows. His eyes are fixed on you in a way that makes you feel as if he’s reading your soul.

“That’s all there is.”

A million questions race through your mind and before you can decide which to ask first, his incorporeal figure vanishes from the meadow.

And you’re alone again.

Oddly enough, the way back to your aunt’s house comes naturally to you. Once inside the ancient wooden manor, you realise that the feeling that guided you back was the same that had led you to the meadow in the first place.

Then, you wonder, had you truly been lost?

Aunt Risa’s an eccentric woman in her thirties, always yabbering on about Mercury in retrograde and events that are yet to happen. Grandma had been the same. Clairvoyance, or what everyone claims is “clairvoyance”, supposedly runs in your family. You wouldn’t know, though, because apparently it skipped your mother. Coincidentally (or not), she’s extremely proud of her normality. And she’s also extremely proud that you, supposedly, are normal, too.

It’s safe to say that you don’t see your mother’s family often.

Still, she sent you here from New York to “connect with your roots”. And even though you know that’s a cover for “raise hell somewhere else for one summer”, you let yourself consider that it means getting acquainted with the mystic mumbo-jumbo you’ve ignored all these years. After all, nothing normal can explain what just happened in the field… right?

Good thing Aunt Risa isn’t normal.

“That’s Glendower’s Meadow you were just in,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes. “Lies atop a very powerful ley line.”

Ley lines, you learn, connect places around the world through electromagnetic forces. They are also able to transcend time, gravity, space… all forces that cannot be seen.

Aunt Risa adds that they do more than just connect places. “Soulmates countries apart can step on any point in the same line to see each other. It’s been said that the power ley lines emit is so strong that even soulmates worlds and years apart can meet in these little pockets of energy. Guess it tides you over til you’re destined to meet.”

Somehow, everything she says makes sense and doesn’t at the same time. Soulmates? Magic? None of this is real, is it?

“Now,” she continues, “it’s odd that you can use ley lines, though. Remember how you couldn’t tell a black jackal from a swan the last time you read tea leaves?”

You frown. At seven years old, you hadn’t exactly been trying.

“I guess there is something supernatural about you! You can’t deny how magical it is to have a love that transcends lifetimes…”

You don’t hear the rest of what she has to say. “Lifetimes?”

“Yup. Soulmates are the only people in this universe who go through reincarnation. The Universe is a hopeless romantic, letting her children fall in love again and again and again.”

And this explanation satisfies you because you’re sixteen, a little naive, and the Universe has never failed you before.

(She will.)

July passes in a honeyed haze: you spend every day with a content curve to your lips, thinking about a boy with eyes and hair dark as night.

Aunt Risa doesn’t have the heart to tell you that she’s seen his future in this life. And when you step out the creaky wooden door for the last time, ready to go back to the bustling jungle that is New York, she calls out to you with an expression you don’t yet recognise. “Don’t you worry, hun. You’ll see that Ushijima boy again.”

But not like this.

You’re about to get out of bed and dress for the first day of school when an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler runs his driver’s black SUV off the road. Ushijima Wakatoshi dies on August 13th in his timezone.

As it happens, you feel a strange sense of loss settle in. It’s like you’d been driving on the highway and just missed the last turn home.

(You’ll learn in the next life that you, in fact, do not have the gift of foresight. But you do have the curse of memory.)

PARIS, FRANCE, 1749

The year is 1749 and sunlight pours through the windows of Ushijima Wakatoshi’s second-floor bedroom.

In this life–– your second life–– you are a brilliant composer. The Universe, as you’ve guessed, follows no rules, no directions. Doesn’t even spare a glance at a linear timeline. Or perhaps, it’s time that isn’t linear. Either way, you try not to think about things out of your control. Life is good now.

At the sound of your fingers waltzing across ivory and ebony, Ushijima slowly sits up in the king-sized, soft linen sheets falling to reveal his chiselled torso.

“Good morning,” he rasps, a content smile tugging at his lips. “You look enchanting as always.”

The melody stops. Between the lid and music rack, your eyes meet–– his gentle, yours mirthful. “You flatter me,” you deny with a cheeky grin. Still, you rise (wearing his robes, Ushijima notes) from your seat and stroll over to your lover, pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. “Happy birthday, darling.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I live another year just for you.” Ushijima really means that–– in fact, he believes with his whole heart that he was made for you and you him. There’s no other way to explain how your bodies mould so perfectly together, how you understand each other without even speaking, how time feels like it doesn’t exist whenever you’re around. Your meeting at Duke La Trémoille’s ball could only have been the work of Fate’s nimble fingers.

(It was. A ley line runs underneath the Duke’s family château.)

You hum, thankful that this time you have the privilege to love him as he lives. Your last life was spent agonising over the only memory you had of him. “And what does this day have in store for the man of the hour?” The words that leave your lips morph into bubbling laughter as he moves aside on the bed and pulls you into his embrace. Still giggling, you kiss his bare chest, relishing in how secure his arms feel around your waist.

“Mother is hosting a ball tonight in my honour,” he says. That you are not invited to, he doesn’t add. He doesn’t have to, though, because you know that she doesn’t approve of you. Not being French is the main reason why, but there’s also the fact that you’re a musician. A talented, accomplished, royally recognised musician, sure, but that doesn’t change how at the end of the day, all you have to your name is inked paper.

And Ushijima Wakatoshi is first in line for the throne of France.

“Ah.”

It’s hardly fair for you to feel slighted–– you knew what you were getting into the second the Crown Prince, notorious for his aloof nature, invited you to Versailles to perform for him and his friends.

(In his defense, Duke Tendou had forced his hand by threatening to throw a fit in front of the Queen, but only after he’d seen the painfully restrained wonder in the prince’s eyes.)

Still, you yearn for something more.

Ushijima feels your body stiffen in his arms and knows the moment has soured. “You can never be Queen of France,” he murmurs into your neck. Shivers crawl down your spine the same time tears prick at your eyes. “And I can never give you a throne.” It’s not the throne you yearn for.

“I know.” You curse whoever the lucky girl will be. And you curse Ushijima for reminding you that she will definitely not be you.

“I can only promise you my heart.” He presses his lips to the side of your neck. “My undying devotion.” A kiss to your exposed shoulder. “And my soul in every life we meet.” His hand slides under your chin and turns your head towards his. Soft lips move against yours while the pads of his fingers wipe away the tears that had spilled over your cheeks.

“Toshi, I must say that the literature tutor your mother hired is doing a marvellous job,” you murmur once you pull apart.

A short breath of amusement leaves his nose. “He’s only polishing a gem that already exists,” Ushijima counters.

You smile slyly, another witty remark ready to launch from your mouth, when three sharp knocks at the door cause both of you to freeze.

“My friends, the Devil approaches.” Tendou’s faint voice travels through the opulent front door.

Sighing, you slide off the bed and tug your day dress on. Without being asked, Ushijima ties the laces in the back together. “Tell your mother I said hello, won’t you?” you tease, kissing him deeply on the balcony.

“I’d prefer not to think about my mother with your lips pressed to mine, darling,” he replies.

You giggle softly, and with one leg dangling off the balustrade, say, “And careful not to wear yourself out dancing, Toshi. Expect a visit from me later.”

His sonorous laughter rings through the air as you jump and land deftly on the freshly cut grass below, running the whole way back to your humble apartment in the eleventh arrondissement.

Regrets of not sneaking into the ball will burn into your brain after Tendou arrives at your door later that evening with a faraway stare on his face.

Towards the end of the ball, Ushijima Wakatoshi is led away from the dance floor and into the gardens by his scheming younger brother Goshiki.

He doesn’t return. The beloved Crown Prince of France dies on his twenty-first birthday with a dagger in his chest and poison in his veins.

With two lives under your belt, you reach the cruel understanding that in every life you live, August 13th is the day that Ushijima Wakatoshi dies again and again and again.

In a sense, memory is foresight.

NEO SEOUL, 2144

Tomorrow, the Union Revolutionary Group exposes the government for their crimes against your people.

But tonight, your head rests against his chest–– a habit you picked up sometime after Germany, 1943, even though you are presently in Neo Seoul, 2144. To be honest, you’re not sure if it’s even 2144. Neo Seoul’s calendar isn’t like the one you went through your first few lives with and you’re certain one year here is equivalent to two back on the Earth you knew… or something like that. Either way, every August 13th passes under your nose without detection. Every day passes uneasily, because although you never truly know when anyone dies in any life, you really don’t know when he will in this one.

But hearing Ushijima’s heart beat firmly manages to take the edge off yours. Every pulse is a murmured confirmation that everything is still okay.

You jerk back when he stirs from sleep. Disorientated, Ushijima blinks at your dimly lit figure before registering that it’s you. A confused expression crosses his features. What had you just been doing?

“Is everything alright?” His voice is raspy with drowsiness but he sits upright against the headboard anyway.

“Yeah.”

“No, it’s not. Tell me what’s wrong.” Nothing ever slips past him–– at least, not when it comes to you. Still, you bite your lip and contemplate if it’s worth mentioning. Three years of working alongside the renegade Commander (and hundreds more from other lifetimes) have taught you that words of comfort do not belong in Ushijima’s vocabulary. But it’s the night before you, the only known freed Fabricant working with the Union, are going to expose the Unanimity’s enslavement of Fabricants to all inhabitants of Neo Seoul. And…

“I’m scared, Wakatoshi.”

He thinks you’re talking about tomorrow. His eyes dart to the holographic digits floating throughout his room. 12:02 AM. You’re talking about today, then. He’s not wrong–– you are afraid of today. But you’re also afraid every day.

Ushijima pauses, wondering what to say. He’s never felt fear the same way others do. Others might only see a myriad of ways they can fail or die but he simply sees a chance to prove himself. A chance to emerge victorious. “If you let yourself be scared,” he says, “then you lose without fighting. Fear is a wasted emotion. Even at your last breath, you should never be afraid.”

As you mull his words over in your head, a section of your hair falls in front of your face. Ushijima’s fingers twitch. Would it be too much to––

“Then what should I feel instead?” He stills.

The question hangs in the air, thickening until the spacious room feels suffocating. Normal people–– people you knew a couple of lifetimes ago–– would probably say something like “love” or “hope” or even “don’t”. You think Ushijima might, too.

But when Ushijima speaks, he says, “Feel right now.”

A shift in the moonbeam pouring through your surrounding glass walls casts a muted glow over your features, breaking through the darkness of the room. Ushijima’s olive eyes flash and fall to your shining lips.

His Adam’s apple bobs. Anticipation bubbles in your stomach.

You think that you might die tomorrow. He might die any day. What are you waiting for?

Feeling a fiery rush of blood surge through your veins, you close the distance between your bodies until the tips of your noses touch. Gently, your hand comes up to the back of his neck, feeling his pulse speed up under your fingers. He instantly reaches out, grips your waist firmly. Hot, uneven breaths fan across your face.

“What––”

“I know it’s forbidden between Fabricants and pure-bloods,” you breathe out, “but––”

Ushijima nudges his lips against yours. They move stiffly, unsurely, but it’s sincere. It’s his first kiss and it’s your… you’ve lost count by now. It doesn’t really matter, though. Past, future, or present, every one of his touches feels new.

Both of you might die tomorrow. But tonight, you both are so very alive.

And when his heart pounds, unmuffled, bare against yours, you are reminded to live now.

Twenty-one hours later, a laser beam whizzes past your ear.

“Go faster!” you shout over the wind, tightening your arms around Ushijima’s waist. “We have to get to the broadcast station now.”

“I’m trying,” he grits out, pressing his foot harder against the hoverbike’s pedal. You speed up, but only a little. “Fuck. Remember what I taught you about the laser pistols?”

“Always aim a little higher than you want to.” From the mirrors on the side, you see the corners of his lips quirk up. You reach for the gun in his belt.

Not a single police officer remains on your tail when you step foot into the broadcast station.

“We don’t have much time, miracle girl,” Tendou, a fellow Union soldier, says once you arrive. He punches the elevator button. Instantly, the chute opens. “Cameras have picked up on at least five Unanimity squads headed our way from the city.”

The sinking feeling that today out of all days might be August 13th suddenly weighs on your stomach. A shaky breath leaves your mouth.

Ushijima stops you before you can step in. Cupping your face with his large hands, the brunet gazes deeply into your eyes. “I believe in you,” he murmurs. “I believe in you.” His fingers brush against your cheekbones. You let your eyelids close, relishing in this stolen moment between two new lovers.

Ushijima presses his lips against yours, kissing you as if he’s trying to carve a message into your bones. He whispers his conviction one last time before stepping back and allowing Tendou to push you lightly into the elevator. The thought that Ushijima’s words allude to more than just faith nudges your brain as the two men grow smaller in your sight.

Halfway through your revelations, the Unanimity cuts through the metal doors of the station. Behind the glass panels encasing the radio room, you watch the shootout begin. Every bone in your body screams for you to join your comrades, but you remember what your orders are. No matter what happens, do not stop the broadcast. If the truth doesn’t come out now, the Union will have sacrificed everything in vain.

You will your voice to steady when Unanimity soldiers take out the Union soldiers hiding behind Tendou’s barricade.

You will your hands to unclench when Ushijima deftly slides over his squad’s barricade and tosses a plasma grenade towards a cluster of enemy soldiers, then picks off the survivors with his Union rifle.

You will your breath to endure when the brunet is blown back by a grenade tossed by another squadron. Ushijima’s cranium collides with the floor. His body stills; blood red as cherry wine pools around his head like a cruel halo. Swallowing, you push forth. You’re a soldier.

But you can’t help the way your throat dries or hands shake or lungs tighten when you see his head turn ever-so-slightly in your direction.

He smiles in his last breath.

(The Archivist asks if you loved Ushijima before you are taken away. You tell him you always have, do, will.

The Unanimity guillotine doesn’t scare you like you think it should. Knowing what and who waits ahead, it feels more like a kiss to your neck.)

QAASUURI, 3003

As you step out of the metal carriage, the ground beneath you begins to vibrate. This, as you’ve learned, can only mean that you are standing atop another ley line.

Olive eyes stare at you impassively when you look up. A dazzling array of awards and medals is pinned to his chest over a white military uniform. Compared to all the other soldiers around him, you gather that the deep purple cape over his shoulders means he’s someone important. Possibly your betrothed? You briefly recall another lifetime in which he’d been the crown prince of somewhere, and you, by a spectacular stroke of misfortune, had only been a composer then. Fighting back a smug grin, you muse that this time, you are a princess.

“Ushijima Wakatoshi, Captain of the Qaasuuri Royal Guard, at your service,” he says with a low bow. “King Washijou appointed me to ensure your safety during your courtship with the prince, your highness. These are trying times, especially with the war against Ibis.” Your heart falls. So it’s one of those lives.

Mustering the warmest smile you can, you curtsy and say, “Thank you, Ushijima. I hope we can get to know each other better.”

You do.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But nothing about him feels artificial. He is as real as he was in Berlin. Atlantis. Cairo. Camelot. Hanoi. Olympus. Tallahassee. He feels as human, too.

You get to relearn the way his cheeks flare up when you call him Toshi and not Ushijima for his first time (force of habit)... and every subsequent time (at your pleasure).

You get to relearn his wry humour, how every-so-often his stony demeanour breaks after one of your quick jabs, usually in response to his agonisingly blunt remarks. (“You should have brought a coat, princess,” he notes with disapproval when you shiver in the chilly spring air. You promise him that you look better with hypothermia than in any Qaasuuri coat. An amused breath blows out from his nose. And though he doesn’t say a word more on the subject, his white jacket over your shoulders speaks more than enough.)

You get to relearn how his hands feel on your skin. The first lesson is your mistake: missing a step down the spiralling staircase on your way to dinner. Automatically, his hand grips your arm to pull you back. He uses a little more force than necessary, though, and tugs you into his firm chest. Neither of you can look at each other for the rest of the evening. The second is his mistake: reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you read in the palace library, somehow knowing it’s one of your pet peeves. Both of you freeze when his fingers accidentally brush against your cheek. Ushijima thinks he’s never felt skin softer than yours–– you think it’s been too long since he last touched you.

The third is neither a mistake nor just one of your doings. It happens on a cool autumn evening as the two of you walk through the palace gardens with your hands dangling haphazardly at your sides, knocking against each other again and again as if begging for an opening. Finally, you acquiesce. You slip your hand into Ushijima’s cold palms. And though nothing shows on his stony face, his heart whirrs like an overheating engine for the rest of your walk. He doesn’t let go until the iron palace comes back into view.

“We should stop,” he pants between fervent kisses, “before this gets out of hand.” You nip at his neck. “You’re betrothed to the prince––” you suck on the skin between his collarbones and throat, drawing a low groan from his lips “––and I can never give you a throne.”

You pull back, knees on either side of his waist, and stare down into his eyes. “I don’t want a throne.” Ushijima watches you with rapt attention. Sometimes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he remembers. Slowly, you repeat his words from lifetimes ago. “I only want your heart.” An unreadable expression crosses his face. “Your devotion.” It’s not recognition. “And your soul.”

It’s conviction.

By now you’ve seen many breathtaking things: entire cities built from ice, the end of the ocean, a Venusian sunrise. None compare to Ushijima Wakatoshi with his pupils blown wide, hair tousled, lips flushed. Red with love.

None compare when he promises, “You have that and more.”

A pause.

“Show me.”

With an effortless flip, Ushijima’s muscled body hovers over yours, olive eyes flashing wildly in your dim chambers.

Amid fast breaths and guttural moans, amid steely olive eyes and parted lips, amid the subatomic space between your bodies, you feel it cloak your skin like armour.

Love.

(The Ibis storm the Qaasuuri castle one month before the wedding. Ushijima fights the invaders valiantly, superhuman modifications undoubtedly being of help. But there’s just too many of them. The last thing he tells you is to run. The world burns when you look over your shoulder, only to see a Ibisian sword drive through his heart.

The Qaasuuri are a race more android than human. But they still bleed the same.)

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2018

The oldest you ever witness him live to is thirty-two years old.

It’s the morning of August 13th and you walk into the kitchen to the sight of Ushijima Wakatoshi lifting your daughter up into the sky, spinning her little body around in circles, the pancakes on the stove slowly bronzing to a mouthwatering shade of gold.

“Mommy!” she giggles when she sees you. Leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed, you watch your husband set your daughter back down on the ground with a soft smile on his face.

“Sleep well?” you ask, ruffling her hair. She nods happily and bounces back to the stove. Her latest obsession has been cooking in the kitchen, though you’re not sure when exactly she moved on from “potion-making” in the backyard.

“Morning,” Ushijima murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Happy birthday, handsome,” you tease, leaning into his chest. As the words leave your mouth, the sunny morning haze cools into desaturated blue. But it’s been thirty-two years, you reason with a hard swallow. Maybe the cycle has broken. Your eyes dart to your daughter’s little figure on the stepping stool, her small hands gripping the spatula flipping a bronzed pancake over to its pale side. How would she…

You steel yourself, though a small fissure can’t help but open in your heart from the force.

She isn’t your first child and she won’t be your last. Time, you’ve learned, likes to play games, likes to set you on the same storyline again and again just to see if another ending will show itself. There will be more tomorrows and more yesterdays. There always is.

But that doesn’t make todays hurt any less.

Ushijima tilts his head to the side, olive eyes peering into yours. “Is everything okay?” He never misses (or missed) anything–– not when the two of you were heisting in Switzerland or revelling in Alexandria like Dionysians, not when you were crammed in the same codebreaking room during World War I or sailed across the Atlantic to your doom in 1912. Not now.

But you’re tired of carrying each bygone lifetime into the next. Willing yourself to forget the fact that you’ve seen him die again and again on August 13th, you put everything into the lie that slips your teeth: “More than okay.”

You choose to cherish the present.

“Order up!” your daughter exclaims, proudly presenting the plate of pancakes to you and Ushijima. “I even made one shaped like a heart for Dad for his birthday!”

With a grin, you come closer to inspect the heart-shaped pancake. “Excellent work, sous chef!” you compliment, tapping her nose lightly. It’s sharp like her father’s. She, however, inherited your eyes. You turn around to face your husband. “What does Head Chef Ushijima think?”

Smiling softly, he takes the plate from her hands and, without a second look, says, “It’s perfect. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Breakfast passes in a blur of laughter and honey.

(You think you have gone through another August 13th unscathed when night falls and all of your friends exit through the cherry wood doors of one of Tokyo’s finest restaurants. On the car ride home, however, your white SUV swerves to avoid a deer in the road and flips once, twice, three times.

You wake up neither a mother nor a wife.)

TOKYO, JAPAN, 2020

A subtle sigh of relief exits your lungs when Ushijima Wakatoshi enters through the front door at 12:01 AM, red Team Japan suitcase in hand. He’s back from the airport. More importantly, he’s alive.

“Did I make it?” he asks with an upturned corner of his mouth. His olive eyes are half-closed from the exhausting transatlantic flight and his muscles are still a bit sore from how vigorously he played the game against Argentina (Oikawa’s team, for god’s sake)... but he’s here.

And he can’t be any happier.

You know that he’s talking about the time, probably hoping to joke that coming home to you is the best birthday present he can imagine. In that regard, he technically hasn’t made it.

And yet, you leap into his arms and press kisses all over his face as you repeat “yes” again

and again

and again.

#ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima scenarios #ushijima imagines #ushijima fluff #ushijima angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq!! scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #hq!! imagines

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hello!! I’d also love to read the hobbit fic. I love everything you write!

Hello! I’m so so SO happy people are interested in my other work, even if it’s terribly tragic and angsty! Please read the tw for this work, since it does get pretty intense even with a happy ending.

For context: this is a snippet of an Tolkien AU I never wrote where the marauders and co are on an adventure and James has healing powers.

TW: temporary major character death, heavy angst, blood/ mild gore, fighting, grief, “enemies to lovers but I’m dying” trope, happy ending

The cold stone digging into Sirius’ cheek did little to shock him from his daze and trembled beneath him as heavy footsteps approached. The screech of metal on metal had been the harbinger of death for too many already. What was one more?

An iron-clad foot landed on his shoulder and rolled him onto his back—he groaned as the edges dug into muscle, leaving him breathless with pain. He was battered, bruised, soon to be broken. Make it quick, he prayed as the axe rose high. Remus, I’m sorry.

There was a flash of movement overhead and the beast stumbled; the swing went wide and slammed against the cliff’s edge as its head was wrenched backward. Long legs locked around its thick neck and an angular face, twisted in a snarl, swam into focus through Sirius’ hazy vision.

“Remus,” he managed, little more than a whisper. “Remus, no.”

Midnight blood trickled from the troll’s neck where a bowstring cut into it. “Go!” Remus shouted as he pulled back with all his might. “Run, you idiot!”

He heaved in a breath and tried to get to his feet, but pain radiated through his torso and he barely made it to his knees before the beast roared and snatched at Remus, who leaned sideways just a touch too far and rolled onto the hard ground. The troll ripped his bow off its neck and threw it to the ground, then lunged for him; Remus dodged, turned, and shoved its arm into the corner of the rock with a harsh crack. The axe tumbled over the side and vanished into the mist.

Sirius must have made some sort of noise as he struggled to get up—get up, broken ribs be damned—because Remus’ gaze snapped toward him.

It happened too fast for Sirius to even gasp. One moment, Remus was reaching to deflect the troll’s trunklike arm from coming down on his head; the next, his eyes flared wide with shock and he sucked in a shuddering breath. The beast twisted the jagged knife in his stomach and yanked it out.

Remus dropped like a broken marionette.

Sirius’ vision blurred again, and not from pain. Distantly, he registered drawing his sword, but the next thing he knew the troll was dead and his hands were covered in blood and Remus was going cold in his arms.

Remus’ mouth twisted with frantic pain. “Sirius.”

“I’ve got you, you’re alright.” His tongue was thick between his teeth and he could feel his whole body shaking while he pressed a hand down on the dark stain spreading across Remus’ torso. “Just hold on, you’re going to be fine.”

“Hurts,” Remus whimpered, grabbing the front of his shirt with clumsy fingers. “Hurts. I’m so sorry.”

“You saved my life.” Sirius’ voice wavered as tears filled his eyes. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Remus shook his head; his bloodstained lips were growing paler by the second. “I didn’t say it sooner. I’m sorry.”

A sob ripped from Sirius’ chest as he gathered him tighter, feeling his weak heartbeat under his palm as his fingers turned red. “Don’t you dare, not now. Not here. Say it when you’re healed, alright? Say when I can hold you properly.”

“Has to be now.” Remus took a few staccato breaths, then exhaled slowly. He reached up and cradled Sirius’ cheek with surprising gentleness. Sirius braced himself. “I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. Sirius, I wanted forever with you, I’m so sorry.”

It was so, so much worse than Sirius had imagined. Tears traced down Remus’ forearm as he leaned into the touch and let the words spill over his lips. “I love you too, you beautiful, reckless archer.”

“Knight in—” Remus coughed again and jolted in his arms, sending a thin trickle of blood from the side of his mouth. “Knight in shining armor, huh?”

“That’s right,” Sirius sniffled. He brushed stray curls off Remus’ forehead and his tawny eyes slipped shut for a moment. Cold fear flooded Sirius’ veins. “Remus, love, keep your eyes open. Keep them on me.”

A small smile spread over his face despite his small shudders of pain. “How could I ever look away?”

“You’re not allowed to.” Sirius tightened his grip. “Listen. You are not allowed to stop looking at me.”

Remus’ eyes turned sad as his hand dipped down to play at the collar of Sirius’ shirt, too weak to go higher. “I think I have to.”

“No.”

“Sirius—”

“We still have so much to do.” Something heavy stuck in his throat. “I need—I need to show you the stars back home, the ones you’ve never seen.”

The smile returned, molasses-slow and twitching up at one side. Crooked and beautiful, just like him. “The archer.”

“That’s right.” His gaze unfocused and Sirius quickly rubbed his shoulder. “That’s you, your constellation. Just keep looking at me, alright? James will be here soon, and—and Lily, and Dorcas, and Marlene, and Pete, and we’ll all be just fine. I love you.”

Every breath rattled in Remus’ chest, but he kept smiling up at Sirius. “Hey. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good,” Sirius gasped out. “Good, that’s good. Come on, love, tell me what I can do to help.”

“Hold me.” His abdomen spasmed under Sirius’ damp hand. “Tell me what we’ll do together.”

“We’ll climb the tallest tree we can find and lay down on the top branches while the moon rises.” Tears coursed in stinging rivers down his face, dripping onto stone and pallid skin. “I’ll teach you every constellation I know, and then we can make up new ones. You’re so bloody clever, so you’ll think up the best ones. That’s why I love you.”

“I never hated you, you know.”

Sirius’ chest hurt from holding in a sob. “I know.”

“I’ve loved you since the day we met. I just didn’t know it.”

“Me, too.”

“Wasn’t all that clever of me to fight a troll with a bow, was it?” Remus’ tone was teasing, but his face was sad as a few tears slid down his cheekbone. Sirius wiped them away with a careful hand, forcing back a wince at the chill. “Though I guess you could call that creati—”

He cut off with a coughing fit, grabbing for Sirius’ cuff and sleeve. His mouth opened and closed a few times, soundless, before his head lolled to the side. “No, no, eyes on me. Please don’t do this, Remus.”

With a harsh inhale, he looked up once again, brows furrowing in concern. "You're too beautiful to cry like that. Why are you sad?"

Because you're dying and I can't do a damn thing but hold you. Because I'd fight a hundred armies and die a thousand times just so you could live. Because we were supposed to have time. "Because I don't want you to leave me."

Remus' fingers, light as a butterfly's wings on his loved ones and deadlier than anything on a bow, were limp on Sirius' arm. A sudden spark of understanding crossed over his pale face and he softened. "You have to let me go."

"No."

"You have to."

"I won't." He shook his head adamantly and tried to coax blood back into those cold hands. "This is not supposed to happen, not like this."

"Sirius." A barely-there squeeze. "I love you so much, but you have to let me go."

A high, horrible sound ripped from his clogged throat. "I'm sorry."

"You saved my life. You have nothing to be sorry for." There was a look in Remus' eyes, then, a look that Sirius knew the name for and didn't dare say aloud. Then it faded, and he blinked slowly. "I'm so tired, Sirius."

Who would have guessed that nodding once was the hardest thing Sirius would ever have to do? "Sleep, love. I'll be here when you wake up."

Remus leaned his face into the crook of Sirius’ elbow, keeping steady eye contact until lilac lids shuttered liquid gold. “I lo…”

His hand fell from Sirius’ and hit the cold ground. His chest went still with a soft sigh.

Sirius could barely breathe. There was a ringing in his ears that grew louder and louder until he heard nothing else, even though his throat began to sting from screaming. He pulled Remus closer to his chest and held him, desperately searching the mist for anyone who could help. His eyes landed on the sturdy bow with a snapped string lying mere feet away, and he broke.

He didn't know how long he wept. Minutes. Hours. Years. He begged and pleaded and cursed until he was hollow inside, save for the agony that devoured everything. It must be possible to die of a broken heart, he thought. It must be, because I can't imagine anything else hurting this much. It felt as though someone was ripping him apart seam by seam and all he could do was apologize before going silent.

Hold me. Hold me. Hold me and tell me. I love you.

Soon—or maybe later, time was a fickle thing—long shadows stretched ahead of him and he raised his head. He didn't care if they were trolls or soldiers or more beasts; there was nothing left for them to take. "Sirius?"

He knew that voice. That voice was safety. It was home. "James."

"We heard shouting, what—” James stopped. Someone behind him screamed, long and loud. "Sirius, what's in your arms?" There was a beat of silence as Sirius tried to balance his hearing again. "Sirius, what are you holding?"

The last remaining tears in his body flooded out as he uncurled just enough to show them. Remus' face was peaceful, but the mess of blood on his stomach that had transferred to Sirius' shirt was not. "He was protecting me," he said. "The knife—I couldn't do anything—”

"No." James' voice cracked; the screaming had turned into uncontrollable sobbing. "No, that's—that's Remus. That's Remus."

"He said he loved me." The words tripped over one another as they left his mouth. James didn't need to know this, but he couldn't stop. "He said he loved me and asked me to hold him, so I did. He told me I had to let him go, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to, James, I didn't want to."

“I know.” Warm, shaking hands fell on him, one on his neck and the other around Remus’ back. “I know you didn’t.”

Sirius' shoulders crumpled as a fresh wave of pain washed over him. "Make it stop."

"Make what stop?"

"This." He released Remus' lower back and grappled for James' wrist with a sticky hand, pressing it against his chest. "It hurts so much. Please, Jamie, you have no idea what this feels like."

“I don’t—Sirius—” James bit his lip and closed his eyes, then opened them a second later with a shocked look on his face. “I have an idea.”

“Please—”

The shock gave way to diamond-hard determination and he squeezed Sirius’ hand. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then you have to let him go one more time.”

Something lurched in Sirius’ gut. “I can’t. I promised to hold him.”

“Sirius, I can fix this.”

"He's gone. I felt it. It's too late."

“Maybe not.” Gently, he pried Sirius’ arms away and helped him lay Remus on the stone.

He looked frail there. False. “You’re a healer, James, not a necromancer. Healers can’t—”

“I don’t give a shit. Rules are for cowards.” James unbuckled his arm guards and stretched his hands over Remus’ chest, taking a slow breath. “Alright, Remus, heal for me.”

Faint light pulsed from his palms, then dissolved. Sirius felt his last bit of hope wither. “It’s too late.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” James muttered through gritted teeth. The light returned, stronger this time, before sinking into Remus’ chest. “Remus John Lupin, you have unfinished business here and you know it. I will personally drag you back here if I have to. A ghost isn’t good enough.”

A high-pitched whining noise filled the air and Sirius tasted metal at the back of his mouth. “James,” Lily warned from the huddled group behind him.

“You’ve never given up easy, have you? Come on, you stubborn fucker, heal!” James slammed his hands down and white light blazed around them; Sirius shielded his eyes on instinct and felt a strong wind whip up as shouts of alarm echoed off the sides of the cliff.

Something knocked against his knees with a sharp gasp. The light dimmed, and he carefully peeked around the side of his arm.

The first thing he saw was amber. Clear, warm, alive amber. “You’re here,” Remus croaked.

Sirius felt a slightly hysterical smile tug at the sides of his mouth. “Told you I’d be here when you woke up.”

“I…died.”

“Yeah.” James seemed torn between ecstatic and utterly exhausted.

“You brought me back?”

“Uh-huh.” He listed to the side and Remus caught him easily before he hit the ground.

“And you…?” Remus blinked at Sirius in surprise, hesitantly touching his hand. “You stayed?”

“Cried a lot. It’s a good thing you’re a fighter. One of the things I love about you, actually.”

Remus stared at him for a moment, dumbstruck, before his whole face split into the most radiant smile Sirius had ever seen and he began to laugh, dragging him in for a tight hug. Sirius clutched the back of his shirt and nestled his face in the bend of his shoulder until he was pulled away rather suddenly and reeled back in for a fervent kiss. "I love you. I love you. I'm sorry," Remus said against his lips. It seemed as if he was breathing Sirius in.

It was difficult, but Sirius pulled away and folded his hands over Remus' where they rested on his face. "I love you so much. Now that you're alive, I can tell you you're an idiot for trying to take on a damn troll with just your bow."

Remus just laughed and kissed him again, deep and slow. They broke apart again as the others fell on them in a tangle of tears and laughter; Sirius closed his eyes and held tight to whoever was in reach as the agony in his chest subsided. The pain was still there—he had definitely broken a few ribs—but he no longer felt hollow. Buzzing warmth filled every crack that had splintered through him. Love, he thought giddily. That's love.

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sereineityy · 3 years

Text

how many more sleepless nights?

genre: nonidol!au, ANGST, slight fluff

summary: a year is a long time, isn’t it? you’ve spent yours stuck in an eternal, monochrome winter. a surprise encounter derails all of your plans: feelings fade... or do they, really?

pairing: taehyung x reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: swearing, terrible terrible angst (im sorry!), heartbreak, implied smut, angsty flashbacks :(

a/n: hi everyone! this is my very first fic on tumblr and i really hope you enjoy! please listen to spring day and scenery to really get into the feels - i hope you lose yourself in this little slice of a seoul winter :’) also i do have a storyline planned if you enjoy this little piece and could potentially even make this a series aah! please leave comments and constructive criticism - i’d love to grow as a writer! (@chateautae i finally did it!!!!!!)

[ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ]

09:17am, december 17, 2020

It’s been a year since you last saw him. A year of emptiness, hollowness, blankness. A year since you turned your back, leaving without a goodbye. It’s been a year since you’ve walked out his front door, the same one that you’d find yourself visiting and revisiting when you knew he wasn’t home.

It’s been a year since you last felt some semblance of happiness, a year since you’ve let out a genuine laugh, smiled from cheek-to-cheek. It’s been a year devoid of warmth: you shivered under the embrace of the summer sun, no longer noticed the blooming flowers that you had once loved so much. The world lost all its color. Fading into a bleak grayscale so far away, unreachable. No longer did you walk with a spring in your step, no longer did your eyes glimmer with galaxies that you’d once built with him. You were empty, a ship lost in the depths of the dark oceans. Floating, barely surviving, with no set destination. All you saw were never-ending, infinite oceans in all directions. No escape, no lighthouse. Just you. Alone. Pointless.

Your heart aches for him, the echo of a honeyed baritone, the ghost of his warm, muscular arms wrapped around your shoulders.

It’s for the best, you had thought. It’s for the best.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the thoughts out of your mind. There was too much, too many feelings, pent-up emotions. You weren’t a woman of emotions, never were, swore to never be, until you had met him. And he had changed everything.

Stop. This is getting ridiculous.

You needed to get on with your life, you think. There are too many things to think about, so many better thoughts requiring your attention. What were you doing, wasting your energy on him? It was time, you had decided, to end things once and for all.

The ticket machine snaps you out of your reverie, demanding it get paid. How much did the trip cost? You’ve forced yourself to forget, holed up all the memories too far into the shadows of your mind in your sheer desperation to evade the pain. You slot in a W10,000 bill, way too much, but better than having to remember. The machine happily eats up the cash, returning your card and sending you on your way.

You navigate the platforms, seeing the brightly-lit signs: Incheon line, Suin line, Bundang line. Then you see it, Platform 6, Gyeongwon line. South-bound to Soyosan, stopping at Iryeong. Your heart thumps, stomach twists, and you feel like throwing up. How many times had you once ascended these very steps with him, hand-in-hand, smiling to one another? How many times had you raced up these stairs, trying to get to the platform first? It’s too much, and you want to run. Run away from this place, from the thoughts and feelings.

No. You need this.

The winter air roughly brushes against your cheeks, hurrying you along.

What are you so afraid of?

Everything, you think. Everything. You’ve bound your heart in chains and locks, plastered it with thousands of bandages, one on top of the other. You’ve holed it away, willed it out of existence. You’re afraid of the memories, the emotions. You’re afraid of yourself.

Go. Just go. Get it over with.

You force your feet to move, one after another. You don’t think, you just move. Move onto the platform, move onto the train. You don’t realize that you’ve boarded the machine until you hear an all-too-familiar voice on the loudspeaker.

“This is the Special Rapid Train, on the Gyeongwon line, headed for Sosoyan. We will be stopping at Seokgye, Wolgye, Dobong and Iryeong. Please stay clear of the sliding doors!”

You vaguely see the blinking of lights and hear the shutting of the doors. The train picks up speed, clicking against the railroads. You are blank, a passenger on an endless journey. You sway when the train sways, stop when it stops. You don’t know how many stops have passed, having lost yourself in the familiar nothingness that had hollowed you out for the past year, until the speakers announce something about the next station being Dobong. You’re near, you realize. Too near.

Too soon does the train halt, birthing out and collecting new passengers as seats empty and taken once more in a matter of seconds. You watch this interchange with a bitter smile: how quickly he must have replaced you after you’d left, how he must’ve taken in another in your place.

Stop it.

Too engrossed in your thoughts, you don’t notice the closing of the doors and the blinking of the lights until you hear the loud system once more as the train starts to accelerate.

“Iryeong, Iryeong. Our next stop is Iryeong, please get off on the right side of the train.”

You are left suddenly hyper aware of your surroundings, watching as snow paints the ground white. The houses blur into trees and back into villages as you stare out the window, and you start to remember. You remember your hands intertwined, dancing in the snow, the click of a camera as the melodies of your laughs twirling in the air. You remember the snugness of his embrace, his earthy cologne, his smile, his lips pressed against yours…

Stop.

You tear your gaze away from the glass, staring down at your gloved hands fiddling in your lap. It’s been a year. It’s laughable how much and how little has changed. You’re different, yes, but yet so painfully similar to the girl who ran away. It’s funny how much of a difference, or lack thereof, a year can make, you think. It’s certainly been hard on you, and you find yourself wondering about him, about how maybe the year has changed him, how he’s doing, if he’s eating well, if…

Stop.

You’re hopeless, aren’t you?

You sigh and shut your eyes. You’re going crazy. Or maybe you’ve always been crazy. Your thoughts are feverish, a maelstrom in your mind. Involuntarily, you notice your feet rapidly tapping the metal bar to your side, vibrating against the pole. You feel the ghost of a touch on your thigh, hear the empty shell of his words, breathe, Y/N, breathe. What’s got you all worked up? And for a moment, just a moment, you feel his presence to your side, capture the warmth radiating off of his figure, and smile. Because it’s all okay when he’s here.

But he’s not.

You decide to focus on the sound of the railroads, staring down at the speckled floor of the train as the carriage undulates gently, side to side. You ride along, the train’s movements easing your own and you begin to lose yourself once again in the clacks of the rails, mind going blank, until you start to notice the slowing of the sounds. The train’s dance comes to a slow, inviting people to start getting up and shuffle towards the doors. Your heart sinks to your stomach. Not yet, not yet. It can’t be. It’s too soon.

The loudspeaker crackles to life, confirming your worst fears. “Arriving at Iryeong, please stay clear of the doors and exit on the right side of the train.”

Your legs move on their own accord, pulling you to a standing position as you grip the metal post with your life. The train continues to slow, eventually, painstakingly coming to a halt. You wish it never will, that it will continue on with its journey ahead. But it’s too late. The doors slide open, the sounds of the outside world whistle for you, calling you, urging you out of the comfort of the train. You don’t dare move, standing still as passengers trickle out, as the flashing lights start to appear, as the minute at the station starts to come to an end. The doors are closing in five. Four.

You twitch.

Three. Two.

“Wait!”

You rush out the doors, barely escaping the iron clasp of the metals that would’ve devoured you had you been a second too late. Behind you, the steel hisses as the vehicle exits the station, leaving you alone. So utterly alone.

You’re blessed with a moment of solitude, feeling nothing but the cold air chilling your face, until you realize where you are and why you’re here.

The bliss of being alone rapidly evaporates, and you’re hit with a speeding truck. The memories flood in; you’re winded, gasping for breath as you’re stormed with images, short clips of him, you, the pair of you. His smile, his laugh, his cheeks, eyes, nose. His breath tickling yours before he leans in for a kiss, his gentle, large hands cupping your face as you close your eyes…

Stop. Get a fucking grip, will you?

You force the color out of your mind as you make your way around the platform, empty now that everyone has gone. Your eyes graze against the pathetic, run-down station: the signs are only partially lit, the electricity having worn out. Your fingers run against the peeling, dirtied paint of the walls, dust bunnies catching onto your gloves. You scoff. This is pathetic. The floor is littered with plastics and old soda bottles, as if nobody’s been here to clean in too long. Graffiti smiles sadly back at you as you scan the fading walls, losing their life by the second. The bricks have faded into a musty brown, drab and uninteresting. Everything is so run down, so tired. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you make your way to the minimart to your right, wanting a beverage to help warm your insides up.

The doors slide open with a gentle clink, altering the store of your presence. The cashier at the counter looks up at you through half-lidded eyes, barely acknowledging you, before returning to the drama playing on his cracked phone. The shelves are well-stocked, however, in stark contrast to the beaten-down appearance of this whole ordeal. You glide along the aisles, and everything is the same. Your favorite tea is still on the same shelf as it was all those months ago, his favorite gimbap in the bottom left corner of the chiller. Beef and sesame, he’d get, while you’d get a tuna for yourself, clinking your drinks and hearing the hiss of his cola opening, laughing as you made a mess of yourselves, two young fools madly in love. You’d talk, drink, eat for hours, whispering, dreaming and wishing, wondering what was going to come in the future, what you’d name your first puppy, whether you wanted a girl or a boy for your first child. Never would you have ever imagined that it would all end this way.

Stop it.

You grab your bottle of tea violently, almost knocking it over in your hurry to leave. You could no longer stay, not here, suffocating in your memories of him. You erased the gimbap out of your vision, ignoring it as you made your way to the counter, paying for your drink as the half-hearted employee handed you with your change. You mutter a thank you, unsure if he had even heard, and mindlessly make your way out of the store, too focused on keeping someone out of your head. You nearly bang into the glass doors in your haste, looking down and walking as fast as you can. Until your heart stops, that is.

You don’t dare look up, not now. The whole world slows to a stand-still, your gaze sharpening on nothing. Your heart is about to beat out of your chest, your lungs stop working. Electricity charges through the air and you’re left reeling, not knowing what to do.

Slowly, painfully, your neck raises, muscles straining with all their might. You already know what you’re going to see, who you’re going to see, but the sight of him still shocks you all the same. You nearly spill your drink all over yourself when you finally look up, and your brain goes into overdrive. You’re sure that your mouth is hanging open, jaw slack, but you can’t do anything about it. Your knees buckle, you can’t breathe, suffocating, wanting the ground to swallow you up at this very moment. You want to fall, tumble into an eternal tunnel. You are dizzy, light-headed, going crazy, you swear. You’re going crazy, aren’t you? This can’t be real, can it?

You can’t believe it. You’re drowning, drowning in those chocolate eyes, sinking into his pupils, losing yourself in his gorgeous features. You drink him all in, his own face mirroring yours, in no doubt absolute shock or maybe even despair, his deadly stare making your breath hitch as it once did so long ago. He’d never lost his power over you, after all. The world is suspended around you, all operations ceased as you both continue to stare into each other’s eyes, the tension so palpable that it threatens to devour you whole. Your larynx seems to be glued shut, your tongue a stone in your mouth. There are no words, no way to express this feeling that washes over you upon seeing him again.

“Y/N…”

His voice. Your ears ring with his deep baritone, honey to your ears. You can’t help it: you quite literally swoon, despite the circumstances. His voice: it ignites a fire within you, warm tendrils of heat rising up from your stomach. Vibrations send throughout your core, making you lightheaded and sure that you’re about to fall. You remember his timber next to you in the dead of light, comforting you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, it’s okay, it’s okay, breathe, it’s okay, you’re here with me.

You hug your arms around yourself, trying to keep it all in, retain the strange feeling that was now foreign to you after months of cold. It’s been too long, after all - you’ve gone too long deprived of this humanness, comfort that radiated off of him.

Things are different now, Y/N.

Yes, they are. Your mind goes berserk once more, considering all of the scenarios. Why is he here? He probably just needs to go to the minimart - no, why would he come all this way, he lives pretty far as well, or maybe he’s waiting on a friend, no, maybe he’s brought a new girlfriend, maybe she’s with him right now waiting to jump out of the shadows. Maybe they’re both exchanging looks right now when I’m not looking, laughing, taunting me, this girl from the past who doesn’t deserve to be here, maybe they all think I’m a joke now, what am I doing, why, why, why?

You’re so lost in your thoughts that when Taehyung addresses you once more, you’re violently jolted out of your mind and nearly fall backwards, body forgetting everything but the sound of his voice.

“Y/N…” he says again, forcing you to look up at him. Your name splinters through the air from his lips, cutting through the frost and straight into your chest; you notice now that his voice seems tired, that he seems tired.

You finally regain some semblance of control over your frozen tongue, lips moving in an attempt to emit a sound, any sound. Your lips wrap around the sole syllable that comes to you like muscle memory, the only one that you manage to choke out.

“T-Tae...”

Your voice cracks, unable to continue. The prolonged eye-contact has got you weak, his pupils boring into your soul. You look into his eyes, reciprocating, and you notice that maybe they’ve lost their golden sheen, that they no longer twinkle with constellations of stars. And it’s then that you realize: maybe the year has taken a toll on him too.

Look at what you’ve done to him.

“T-Tae, I, I, I…” you sputter out, guilt flooding your system like a drug. There was nothing you could say, nothing you could tell him to cheat yourself out of the situation or paint yourself in a better light like you’re so used to doing. You’re not used to feeling this powerless, this weak. Taehyung was the only one who saw through the facade, the only one who allowed you to feel vulnerable. You couldn’t lie to him, you knew you couldn’t; there was no wheedling, no bullshitting, no lying yourself out of any sticky situation, which had caused you this whole trouble in the first place. You ran because you were too much of a coward to talk to him, to confide in him. And look where that’s gotten you.

“Why are you here?” he asks, burying his head in his hands. “Y/N, why are you here?”

Why am I here? You don’t really know as well, there’s nothing that you can say to him. Why am I here? To get over him? How are you even going to tell him? He has to think that you’re over him, that it’s done. Stop torturing yourself, and stop dragging him through this mess of your life. Tell him that it’s done.

“I… I came because…”

Y/N, say something?

“I came because I... I was looking for you.”

What the fuck?

His head snaps up, his piercing stare catching your gaze once again. “You were looking for me?”

You feel your heart stop.

“Umm… well, I mean, no, but, no, well actually if I think about it now, yeah, yeah I was looking for you,” you stammer, unable to produce a single cohesive line of thought. “I was looking for you because I wanted to tell you that it’s over.”

Your own words are like a dagger twisting into your own heart and vaguely hear a choked sound breaking the awful, awful silence. Until you realize that it’s come from your own mouth, a sob that you hadn’t even realized that you were holding in.

A moment of charged silence goes by, yet louder than any noise that either of you could’ve let out. Never in your life has silence felt so utterly deafening, and you wish to cover your ears and scream it all out.

“You’re telling me this now?” Taehyung manages, features distorted in pain. “You’re telling me this now, a whole fucking year after you walk out the door without a single word to me?”

You look down at the ground, hating, blaming your traitorous mouth for saying something that you hadn’t fully thought through.

No, Y/N. You have to stop bringing everyone down.

You’ve lost all rational thought when you say, “yes, Taehyung. Yes. I had nothing to say to you then and nothing to say to you now. It’s done and it’s over.”

You couldn’t even say sorry?

The frosty wind brushes over the pair of you, causing you to shiver in your boots. You want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and disappear, pretend that this never happened, that this was all a bad dream.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a security guard watching the whole exchanged with piqued interest. It’s none of your fucking business, you want to scream. It’s none of your fucking business. And yet you’re so humiliated, embarrassed at this whole mess that you’ve made of not only yourself but the situation in its entirety that you cannot muster up any words to merely defend yourself. You want to cry, sob, yell, scream.

“Fine, Y/N, it’s okay. You know what? It’s okay, you don’t owe me an explanation, you don’t owe me anything, not an apology, not a reason, not your love. It’s okay. It’s fine. Maybe you never loved me, saw me in the same way. Maybe I just assumed, maybe it was wrong of me to assume. Maybe I was too optimistic, too in love with you that I had forced myself to believe the story that I had made up in my head, that you were in love with me too. Maybe I had wanted it, wanted you so bad that I had made myself believe it. Made myself believe that you were in love with me.”

Your heart instinctually reaches out to him, drumming feverishly against your fragile ribcage. No, you want to scream. No, Taehyung, you couldn’t be more fucking wrong. He doesn’t know the way your heart beats for him in the dead of night, how the mere thought of him sends shivers down your spine, how every cell in your body, every thread of your being aches, yearns for his presence with every hour, every minute, every second.

You feel your heart breaking, splintering into thousands, millions of tiny little fragments raining down like shards of glass. It hurts, it hurts like hell.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Don’t force yourself into anything. There’s no need to anymore. There’s no more need to lie, no more need to pretend that you’re happy.”

“Thank you for telling me the truth.”

It’s not the truth, you want to cry. It’s not. It’s the farthest from it. But you return his look, tight-lipped. You nod, despite the swell of emotions that are threatening to cut you in half at this very moment.

“You’re welcome.”

He reciprocates your nod and slowly, painfully, tears his eyes from yours. He stands up, gingerly, as if hesitating, and you want to tell him to stop, to sit back down, that you’re lying to him, that you want him, that you want him more than anything in this world. But you don’t, and he continues onto his feet, sparing you one last gaze.

“At least I get to say goodbye,” he says, wistfully. “At least I now have the chance to say goodbye.”

You’re sure that tears are streaming down your face at this point, little trails of ice making their way down your blushed cheeks. Your lips are tight, and you cannot, for the life of you, return his look.

Before you can fully comprehend what’s happening, you know he’s here, the familiar hold of his arms, your face finding itself nestled on the same spot on his chest, right above his heart. You feel it beat, gently, slowly, under your ear, a comforting rhythm that you’ve too often fallen asleep to, whispered to. Your arms instinctually wrap around his waist, and his head settles on the crook of your neck, the curve of his nose gently kissing your delicate skin. His warmth radiates from under his coat, and you soak it all in, collecting as much as you can. You are two puzzle pieces, a perfect fit, and you will this moment into eternity, searing it into your memory, wishing for the world to stop, stop right now and leave you in this moment forever. You’ve been lost, wandering, and have finally come home.

But forever doesn’t exist.

You’re struck with a blast of cold at his loss, feeling horribly empty. He steps away from you, and you’re almost certain that you see moisture in his eyes, tears threatening to break free. Every fiber of your being yearns for him, you want to reach out to him, extend the hug, shower him in kisses, make up and forget that this all even happened, but you’re too prideful. You can’t let yourself do this.

“Goodbye, Y/N. Thank you for everything.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

[ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ]

11:42am, March 12 2021

[taehyung]

I miss you.

I miss you as the seasons come and go, I miss you as I watch the world going to shit, losing all hope. I miss you when the wind blows, taking me along like a pointless man, destined for nowhere. I’ll miss you eternally; I’ll miss you when all the ice melts into the ocean, I’ll miss you when everything’s finally disappeared and there’s utter nothing left for me.

I miss you in the brightest mornings and the darkest nights, when the sun comes out to play and the rain starts pelting down like there’s no tomorrow. I'll miss you in the loneliest winters and the blooming springs.

Everything reminds me of you. I am stuck in this eternal frost without you here; your loss has trapped me into this winter forever. I am slowly losing feel of my limbs as they succumb to the cold around me - everything has frozen into place, trapping me into the confines of this perpetual season. The world is closing in, I have nowhere to go, nothing to do. No longer do I have you to lead me out of this snow, no longer do I have you to hold my hand and bring me warmth through it all.

Why did you have to go?

Baby, did you know how much pain I’d be in when you’d left? Did you know how much it would hurt, how you’ve trapped me into this never-ending arctic, leaving me behind to freeze?

Did you know when you chose to go?

You’ve left me in ruins, my love. I can’t continue without you. I’m struggling to breathe, suffocating, as the world collapses inwards, threatening to bury me alive. I wait for you everyday, through all of the grief, the pain. I still wait for the day that you come back, that I get to see your face again.

Or maybe I’m a dumbass. I don’t know. Have you changed? Or is it I who has? Or perhaps, us both? I’m still a lovesick fool for you, Y/N, that I can tell you for sure. I can’t stop thinking of you, as the days pass, sun and moon taking their turns in the sky. I’m left, suffering in this darkness, bleakness without you here. I wonder if you’ll still be there at the end, when all ceases to exist. I wonder if I’ll see you again; how much more do I have to wait? How many more sleepless nights will have to pass before I can lay my eyes upon you again? How many days, months, years do I have to hold back before I get to feel you, touch you, kiss you, one more time?

Or maybe I’m being optimistic. You know what, Y/N, I’ll never see you again, maybe you’re better off without me. Maybe it’s all for the best, maybe it’s time for me to move on, maybe it’s time for you to move on. Maybe it really was not meant to be, maybe you really weren’t the one for me.

Then why can’t I get you out of my head?

Y/N, I wish I could just forget you. I wish you never existed, I wish I had never gotten to know you. Then it would be so much easier for me. I wish that you had ignored me, that you had turned me down when you had the chance. It would’ve been the most pain that I’d feel at the time, but believe me, it’s nothing compared to this.

Now I can’t get rid of you, no matter how hard I try. You’re there, you’re there when I lie down and close my eyes for the night, you’re there at work, hiding behind my papers and my laptop, waiting to take me out to lunch. You’re everywhere, baby, you’re in the car, riding shotgun and racing to connect to Bluetooth first, singing at the top of your lungs as we speed down the highway like the reckless teenagers that we were. I see you, hair tangled by the wind, belting out your favorite lyrics out of the roof of my convertible. And I remember thinking, for the hundredth time that night, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. Damnit, Y/N, you’re standing by the mirror every morning when I get ready for my meetings, dainty fingers straightening my tie and planting a kiss on my lips. You got this, lover boy.

You’re there, and then you’re not. You flicker between reality and imagination, I cannot discern whether I’m living in a fever dream or simply hallucinating. You’re slipping through my hands like grains of sand: I’m losing more of you by the second, can’t seem to hold on to you. You’re disappearing, getting further and further away as all I can do is watch helplessly as you fall through my fingers.

Where are you now, Y/N?

I worry about you, I worry whether you’ve eaten well, whether you’ve slept well, whether you’ve had a good day at the office. Have you seen your parents lately? Have you had some time to yourself over the past days, have you overworked yourself as you often tend to do? Are you taking care of yourself?

Is it selfish of me to be wishing for you, thinking of you after all this time? Tell me, Y/N, is it wrong of me to be wanting you despite it having been over for so long now? You’ve probably moved on by now, considering how long it’s already been. Maybe you’ve met someone new, maybe you’re in love with someone else, maybe I’ve already been replaced with another man in your life.

Maybe I treated you wrong, maybe you didn’t feel like I loved you enough, maybe I didn’t make you feel special enough. I wish, Y/N, I wish that I could turn back time for you, I wish I could go back and be better for you, that I could fix all of the mistakes that I’ve made, wipe all of the tears that you might’ve cried for me, swallow up all of the pain that must’ve been plaguing you, to suck up the hurt that you were feeling back then. I wish you could give me all of the pain, I wish that I could’ve carried it all for you, shielded you from it all like how I should’ve done.

But it’s too late now, isn’t it?

You’ve met someone else by now, you’re laughing, smiling, whispering with another, kissing someone else’s lips, in love with your new man. And I’m still here, trying to get over you like the pathetic loser that I am. There are so many regrets, so many things that I wish that I could still tell you, so many errors, mistakes that I made. It’s all my fault. I want nothing more than to be able to get on my knees in front of you and apologize for everything. There are so many more words, so many moments that I want nothing more than to be spending with you.

I’m still in love with you.

I think I always will be, Y/N. I know it’s selfish of me. I really can’t help it. I’m sorry.

You came into my life like a whirlwind, taking all of me along for the ride. And now that you’re gone, I don’t know what to do with myself no longer. I’ve been swept away with you and my fate will forever be left in your hands. There’s nothing left for me here, not in my work nor art. All that’s left is you. You are the only thing keeping me going now - I live another day, endure another night hoping for you, waiting for the day that I will finally see you again. I open my eyes for you in the mornings, in hopes of laying them upon your figure once more.

Maybe it’ll all be for nothing, I know. Maybe I’ll never see you again. But there’s nothing left for me, remember? I’m willing to take my chance. For when I finally do see you once more, it will all be worth it.

I miss you, Y/N. I miss you so fucking much. My heart beats for you, my lungs breathe for you. My every cell in my entire being aches so desperately for you, for you and you only. And so I’ll wait for you. I promise. I’ll be here for you, waiting for the day that I get to catch a glimpse of you, to be there when you need a shoulder to cry on, for when you need even the littlest, tiniest thing. I’m ready to give you the world, baby. I’m ready to right all my wrongs, to treat you like the fucking queen that you are. I’m going to treat you the way that you deserve.

When that time comes, my heart will be happy. When the time comes that I see you again, that I hear your voice again, your laugh again, it’ll be okay. All this pain will fade away to nothing. Don’t worry about me, darling, I’ll always be here, waiting. Waiting for you, until the end. I promise.

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

an: i hope you liked it!!!! <3 please please please leave feedback my loves!

#btsfic #kim taehyung #bts imagine #btssmut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts #taehyung imagine #taehyungsmut #taehyung fluff #angst

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curewhimsy · 3 years

Text

Vocal Synth Total Drama Island AU Concept (so far)

———Very Short Character Introductions——— (56 campers in all, aged 14-18) Haku Yowane- A sweet, lonely, sensitive girl with a lot of heart. Age 17. Neru Akita- A courageous tomboy who is misunderstood. Age 17. Miku Hatsune- A bubbly, cheerful, outgoing girl with a lot of friends. Age 15. Luka Megurine- An artistic girl who has a bit of anxiety. Good friends with Meiko. Age 18. Teto Kasane- A bubbly, cheerful girl with an unexpected temper and badass side. Age 15. Megumi “Gumi”- A bit shy, but underneath, she is very brave and resourceful. Age 16. Meiko Sakine- The Mom Friend. Confident and likes to help people. Age 18. Momo Momone- The nicest girl, to the point of being a pushover… Age 15. Rin Kagamine- Unhinged gremlin sibling 1. Loves causing mayhem. Age 14. Len Kagamine- Unhinged gremlin sibling 2. Loves causing chaos. Age 14. Eleanor Forte- The mean girl and drama queen. Cause of lots of drama. Age 17. Kaito Shion- The dorky boy who always has a cheesy smile on his face. Age 17. Akaito Shion- The moody playboy. More serious than Kaito, but bad-tempered. Age 18. Koto Fuuga- Nature girl. Knows all about bird calls, animal behavior, and more. Age 16. Taya Soune- An extremely polite guy. Always dresses formally. Always. Age 15. Ruko Yokune- Despite her height and quirky love of coffee, quite level-headed. Age 15. Ritsu Namine- Loud and obnoxious, but has a caring and wise side? Age 15. Merli Aoki- A snobby, pretentious girl. Not Like Other Girls. Age 17. Lapis Aoki- Mischievous and up to trouble. Merli’s sister. Age 15. Gakupo Kamui- He’s… just strange. And eccentric. And awkward. Age 17. Miku “Zatsune”- A wannabe goth. Basically, she’s in training. Thinks she’s edgy. Age 15. Uta “Defoko” Utane- A sarcastic, moody teenage girl. But she does have a sweet side. Age 15. Dell Honne- Haku’s grumpy, angsty half brother she hasn’t seen in years. Age 18. Yuuma- The popular boy. Eleanor likes him. Can be materialistic. Age 18. Dandy “704”- A very arrogant and vain guy. Quite selfish and loves to show off. Age 18. “Lady” Parsec- A commanding bully who demands and orders people around. Age 17. Yuu- A cheerful guy who likes parties and fun. Age 16. Wil- A somewhat quiet, mysterious guy who keeps to himself. Age 16. Kyo- A wild guy who is impulsive and kind of dumb. Age 16. Daina- Basically, she’s a furry. Her fursona is a fox. Age 17. Dex- Basically, he’s a furry. His fursona is a wolf. Age 17. Ruby- A girl who likes memes and is basically just vibing through life. Age 16. Yukari Yuzuki- A modest girl who has a crush on Ruby. Easily impressed. Age 16. Shian- An innocent girl who is also quick-tempered and pouts easily. Age 14. Muxin- A kind, knowledgeable boy. He loves history and astronomy. Age 14. IA- A bit mysterious and seems cold and expressionless. Age 16. Piko Utatane- Shy, quiet, and cold. Gets along with Muxin due to similar interests. Age 15. Genbu- Overly-enthusiastic and brash. A bit of a loudmouth. Age 18. Chiyu- Bold, brash, and brave. Kind-hearted and strong. Age 17. Haiyi- Talks a lot. Usually has something up her sleeve. A prank perhaps? Age 16. Leeds Kasumiga- A timid girl with a mysterious heart illness that inhibits her. Age 14. Mew- A real goth, unlike Zatsune, who is a goth-in-training. Age 18. Tei Sukone- A dastardly, manipulative villain who fools people, then bites. Age 16. Cider- A smug, self-absorbed inventor of elaborate but stupid inventions. Age 17. Bruno- An agreeable, outgoing guy who likes spreading good vibes. Age 18. Clara- Bruno’s girlfriend. A little bit timid, but always kind and optimistic. Age 17. Aku Yamine- Quiet and a bit melancholic. She’s… a different type of goth. Emo? Age 14. Lily- A tough high-school delinquent who stands up for the weak. Age 17. Amy- Cheerful, optimistic, yet quite chill. Doubts herself often however. Age 16. Chris- He might be a big guy, but he is quite shy and very gentle. Age 18. Kaori- She seems confident and bright on the outside, but hides sadness? Age 17. Ken- He’s talkative, smart, kind of a dork, but very focused and brave. Age 17. Iroha Nekomura- Innocent and sweet, but agile, with cat-like reflexes. Age 14. SeeU- Energetic, hyperactive, makes bad puns, silly, makes bad puns… Age 16. Kiyoteru Hiyama is the host of the game show. Big Al is in the role of Chef. ——Episodes——— Prologue 1- Introduction to concept. Characters see the advertisement for the game show and contemplate going on it. The winner gets a million dollars! Prologue 2- Introduction to characters via their audition videos, part 1. Kiyoteru chooses contestants. Prologue 3- Introduction to characters via their audition videos, part 2. Kiyoteru chooses contestants. Episode 1- Everyone arrives at Total Drama Island and meets each other. Some get along, and many clash. Notable big-drama-causers include Tei, Eleanor, Dandy, Parsec, Cider, Merli sometimes, and Zatsune sometimes. Koto, Genbu, Ritsu, Haiyi, Daina, and Dex stick out for being especially wild. But really, everyone’s unique personality contributes to the drama and pot of chemistry in their own way. Another camper who sticks out is Gakupo Kamui, who enthusiastically boasts about his skills in martial arts and how ready he is to win Total Drama Island. He begins to get on the nerves of the other campers. “I can out-run, out-kick, out-sing, out-wit, and even out-PISS anybody else here.” Gakupo says. “Well, can you do us a favor and GET-out?” Meiko says. Episode 2- Campers have to jump off a one thousand-foot cliff into a shark-infested lake. Then they have to pull some crates back to camp, and the team from before with the most people who jumped get carts to help them. Then they have to build a hot tub from material found in the crates. The team with the best hot tub wins the challenge. The campers who were too scared to jump off the cliff have to wear chicken costumes for the rest of the day. Despite his incessant bragging previously, Gakupo is one of the few campers who does not jump off the cliff, because it is revealed he is scared of heights, sharks, AND deep water! He even pisses himself and dramatically faints when he gets close to the edge of the cliff... and then he faints off the cliff! However, his jump isn’t accounted for, because Gakupo was not conscious during his fall. Luka has to be the one to jump in after and rescue him! This causes Gakupo of The Dangerous Dolphins to be the first campter voted off. “Well… I guess he was right about out-pissing everyone here.” Neru laughs. The other campers too scared to jump are Taya, Dandy, Eleanor, Clara, Muxin, Chris, and Kaito. Haku is at first too scared, but her best friend Neru encourages her to be brave. They jump together and yell funny things on the way down. Even though Eleanor is scared, she ends up going over anyway after Chiyu pushes her off the cliff, being sick of Eleanor’s arrogance. However, it isn’t even accounted for, because Eleanor did not jump by her own will. Clara is too frightened and doesn’t make the jump, which is surprising, because she was so enthusiastic before. However, her boyfriend Bruno jumped without her… Taya takes one look down the cliff and starts backing away, crying from fear. He feels ashamed that he’s so scared, but he cannot help it. He gets pats on the back from Clara. Dandy makes an excuse as to why he can’t jump. He says he has an open wound from a fencing accident. In reality, Dandy does not fence. Muxin is too scared, but asserts that he doesn’t have to jump off the cliff if he doesn’t want to, and that the challenge is ridiculous. He then comforts Taya, who is curled up sobbing, and tells him not to feel shame. Taya and Muxin become friends, but sadly are on different teams. Chris is too scared and actually starts crying too. People don’t expect it. Kaito is scared to jump, panics and makes a bit of a scene, and is then picked on and belittled by his brother Akaito for the rest of the day. Kaito then vows he will become braver from here on. Braver, and stronger! Leeds actually does jump from the cliff, but it causes her heart to become weak and she has trouble walking for the rest of the day. Some of the members on her team rudely deem her a nuisance, but others tell her to take it easy and understand her. Afterwards, Clara gets a bit sour at Bruno, who is her boyfriend, for jumping the cliff without noticing she was too scared. Koto jumps the cliff and she actually has fun. But afterwards, she wears a chicken suit anyway, because she loves birds. Episode 3- The challenge is to stay awake the longest in the "Awake-A-Thon" after running twenty-kilometers and eating a huge meal that includes turkey, which is known for making people sleepy. Dell of The Killer Porpoises gets voted off for falling asleep first. He generally has a bad attitude and is apathetic. Haku feels heartbroken because Total Drama Island was the first time she had seen Dell since her parents’ divorce (by complete chance, even,) and he is not the warm person he used to be. Also, the time was so short. But unexpectedly, Dell acts nice to Haku right before he leaves, calling her to his room when he’s packing to go off the island. They have a nice conversation. Before Haku says goodbye, Dell says “Listen, I’m just not cut out for this wacky game. So you better win. I KNOW you can do it.” Haku begins crying and hugs Dell. Just like when they were kids. There will eventually be a list of who falls asleep first to last, but that’s quite convoluted. So I will say Dell falls asleep first, and Ruko second. Campers were not allowed to drink coffee during the challenge, rendering our Long Sleeper without access to her “secret weapon.” Koto stays up the longest, because she is a bird lover and loves birds too much to consume them. She was the only one who didn’t eat any turkey with her meal, and therefore didn’t become as sleepy. Also simply because she is badass and feral. Episode 4- A best-of-five dodgeball game. Five people are randomly chosen on each team. This is repeated three times for a total of three rounds of dodgeball. The Dangerous Dolphins win 2 out of 3 games. Zatsune of The Killer Porpoises gets voted off for being scared of dodgeball. It was a fear ingrained into her from her elementary school days, when the “dodgeball kids would bully her.” Sadly, since Zatsune always acts so cocky, nobody feels much sympathy now. Taya and Muxin want to spend time with each other. Being on different teams, they can’t, and are deemed traitors. But when Tei, on Taya’s team, suggests Taya could get valuable information about the other team via Muxin, Taya refuses to sabotage their friendship. This causes Tei to begin picking on Taya… Episode 5- A three-on-three talent show contest. Dex of The Killer Porpoises gets voted off for no reason. He wasn’t even in the talent show! Dandy wanted to get chosen by his team, the Dangerous Dolphins, to be in the talent show, claiming his “talent” was unmatched. However, he wasn’t chosen because he didn’t exactly have any real actual skills despite his claim! Taya, Luka, and Gumi are eventually chosen by the Dangerous Dolphins for their talents in music. Luka will play piano, Taya will play the violin, and Gumi will play the electric bass as they all sing a song cover. This causes Dandy to criticize their every note and call them amateur. Given Taya and Gumi’s low self-esteem, Dandy’s criticism gets to them before the final talent show. As for the Killer Porpoises, Yuuma, Ritsu, and IA get chosen as the team’s musicians. They form more of an idol dance group, with a pre-recorded background track. (It will also be a cover.) The Dangerous Dolphins actually win. If they were to have lost, Dandy would’ve probably been the one voted off for being a prick. Episode 6- Campers have to go to the forest, stay out there overnight, then race back to the campgrounds in the morning. Yukari of the Killer Porpoises gets voted off. See, it wasn’t really Yukari’s fault, but… she got attacked by a bear and is now too injured to stay for the game, so the voting off was mandatory, even though the Killer Porpoises otherwise won. Everyone becomes more-or-less traumatized at this, and feel very hurt for Yukari. Episode 7- Campers have to face their worst fear, specific to each camper. Yuuma gets voted off. Koto’s worst fear is the perfume department from Spongebob, because that scene scarred her as a little kid. So the host of the game show, Kiyoteru, magically opens a door to the perfume department at a real department store and Koto has to walk through it. Koto only makes it 5 steps in before she runs out, screaming. She does not pass her fear test! Yuuma is scared of the Crab Rave because there are too many crabs. So he is taken to a part of the island overrun by crabs, and Kiyoteru turns on the Crab Rave song and they all start dancing. Yuuma dives into the water screaming. But the crabs chase him. He doesn’t pass his fear test. Taya attempts to outwit Kiyoteru and pretends he is afraid of strawberry shortcake, which is actually his favorite food. But everyone remembers how scared he was in the first challenge at the cliff. So Taya’s specific challenge is to jump off the cliff this time… Episode 8- Row a canoe to Boney Island, portage across the island, start a bonfire, and canoe back to camp. Wil gets voted off. Episode 9- Hunt the other team dressed as deers with paintball guns, or if one is a deer, avoid being hit by them. Piko gets voted off. Episode 10- Create a three-course meal for Kiyoteru to judge. Three chefs are chosen from each team. Miku gets voted off. Episode 11- Participate in a set of three-out-of-five trust exercises. Shian gets voted off. Episode 12- Make it through Big Al’s life-threatening and disgusting boot-camp challenges. IA gets voted off. Episode 13- Participate in three extreme sport challenges. The challenges are "sofa skydiving", riding a moose while avoiding being tossed off it, and water-skiing on mud. Lapis gets voted off. Episode 14- Eat a nine course meal of disgusting food made by Big Al. Drink shot glasses of blended cockroaches. Yuu gets voted off. Episode 15- Episode 16- Episode 17- Episode 18- Episode 19- Episode 20- Episode 21- Episode 22- Episode 23- Episode 24- Episode 25- Episode 26- Episode 27- Episode 28- Episode 29- Episode 30- Episode 31 Episode 32- Episode 33- Episode 34- Episode 35- Episode 36- Episode 37- Episode 38- Episode 39- Episode 40- Episode 41- Episode 42- Episode 43- After this challenge, the teams are disbanded. It’s now every camper for themself. Episode 44- Get through several rounds of torture, lasting at least ten seconds in each one. Eleanor gets voted off because she can’t take torture. Episode 45- Receive a clue to find a key hidden somewhere in the island to open a treasure chest containing a prize. Ritsu found a dud chest and his prize was… getting voted off. Episode 46- Avoid getting sprayed by Big Al’s water gun in a game of hide and seek. Parsec gets voted off. Good riddance! Episode 47- Build a bike from scratch, and then race it. Who rides who’s bike? Anyway, Dandy gets voted off. Probably because he’s 7 foot 4 and huge. He probably broke all the bikes. Episode 48- Watch a horror movie and then avoid being captured by a "deranged killer". Gumi gets voted off because she was scared. Episode 49- Catch the specific animal assigned by Kiyoteru and bring it back to the campground unharmed. Taya had to bring back a raccoon. He came back first. Koto had to bring back a bear. She came back second. What a total beast! And I’m talking about KOTO! Genbu had to bring back an eagle. He came back third. Leeds had to bring back a frog. She came back fourth. Kaito had to being back a squirrel. He came back fifth. Haku had to bring back a moose. She came back sixth. Tei gets sent off because she couldn’t bring back a mere chipmunk. The little chipmunk was trained in king-fu and ended up beating her up! Hooray! Episode 50- Compete in the following while handcuffed to one of the other campers: eat disgusting food with your hands behind your back while the person handcuffed to you feeds you, return a fragment of Haku’s cursed tiki idol to Boney Island, and assemble a totem pole with the wooden heads of the voted out campers in the order that they are eliminated. Taya gets voted off. Episode 51- Campers have to find Kiyoteru and Big Al after being washed away by a storm. Leeds gets voted off because her condition came to its worse. Her weak heart had finally failed on her and she suffered a heart attack. She was doing so good in the game despite her shortcomings, and will serve as an inspiration for many. Leeds will not die. She is in good hands. She will get top medical care. Now, a twist is revealed to the audience. Everyone who was voted off actually went to go to a beautiful island resort. The remaining campers still don’t know about this. When Leeds finally gets consciousness back, she finds she is in paradise. At first, she thinks she is dead. The room then fills up with everyone else voted off, and she begins crying. “They really killed you?” She cries. “No, Leeds!” Yukari says. “You’re alive! You made it… to Paradise Island!” Episode 52- An episode dedicated to the Island of Losers, which is actually a five-star island resort paradise. Yukari has fully recovered from her injuries. Gakupo and all the others who were eliminated early finally get their time to shine! The losers will also be involved in the episodes to come, as they will be the audience. Episode 53- The campers have to find their way back to camp after being left in the wild with limited supplies. Unexpectedly, our total beast, Koto Fuuga, comes back last. Rumors have it, this is because she found a bird sanctuary and got distracted. Episode 54- Survive a series of dares, given by the eliminated campers until someone drops out. Haku is forced to do something horrible by Tei. Tei dares Haku to joke around and portray offensive stereotypes. On national TV. She just can’t do it… She drops out, but not before insulting Tei to her face. But Kaito says Haku made the right choice. She sacrificed her chance to win a million dollars so that Tei didn’t have to force her to make a choice that could hurt people when they see it on TV. Kaito thinks Haku deserves an amazing consolation prize. Genbu respects Haku for this as well. Episode 55- The two remaining campers have to climb a pole and retrieve a flag, walk across a board on top of shark-infested waters while carrying an eagle's egg, and run a race to cross the finish line. Kaito is about to give up… but… There is ice cream at the finish line! Kaito makes a mad dash to the finish line and wins Total Drama Island!! Episode 56- Kaito won! But there is a twist. In order to actually win the million dollars, he has to find the a case containing the $1,000,000 and bring it to the Dock of Shame before anyone else does! This is a race between him and all the other campers! If any of the other campers being it to the Dock of Shame before Kaito, there will be a whole second season of Total Drama Island, and Kaito will have to win all over again before he gets his million dollars… ———Teams——— ———The Dangerous Dolphins——— Taya Chiyu Meiko Kyo Koto Tei Momo Neru Akaito Clara Gakupo Gumi Shian Dandy Luka Merli Daina Haiyi Lily Len Amy Ken SeeU Cider Teto Haku Uta ———The Killer Porpoises——— Yuuma Zatsune Mew Eleanor Ruby Dell Kaito Ruko Ritsu Wil Leeds Genbu Dex Bruno Iroha Miku Piko IA Chris Kaori Yuu Parsec Rin Lapis Yukari Aku Muxin ———Notable relationships——— Familial- Akaito and Kaito are brothers. Lapis and Merli are adoptive sisters. Haku and Dell are half-siblings who don’t live together, and haven’t seen each other in years before Total Drama Island. Rin and Len are twin siblings. Haku and Miku are cousins. Amy and Chris are cousins. Kaori and Ken are twin siblings, yet distant. They didn’t grow up in the same household. Ruko has a close cousin named Rook, who isn’t on TDI. Momo has an older brother, Momotaro, who isn’t on TDI. Uta has a younger sister, Koe, and two older brothers, Hibiki and Kanade, who aren’t on TDI. Teto has an older brother, Ted, who isn’t on TDI. Leeds has an older brother, Loop, who isn’t on TDI. Yukari has a little sister named Akari who isn’t on TDI. IA has a little sister named One who isn’t on TDI. Friendship- Miku, Rin, Len, and Luka have been a group of friends before TDI Haku and Neru were best friends before TDI Dex and Daina were best friends before TDI Momo, Teto, and Uta were best friends before TDI Ruko meets Ritsu and they become best friends Taya and Muxin become unlikely friends, despite being on different teams Romance- Bruno and Clara were dating before TDI Teto and Momo’s friendship eventually becomes romance. Haku meets Luka and they form a budding romance Amy meets Kaori and they form a budding romance Taya meets Uta and they form a budding romance Muxin meets Piko and they form a budding romance Lily meets Gumi and they form a budding romance Crushes- Len has always a crush on Miku. Tei has an obsessive crush on Kaito. Yukari has a crush on Ruby. Leeds has an embarrassing crush on Genbu. Eleanor has a crush on Yuuma. Ken has a crush on Chris. Dandy has a crush on Parsec. Akaito has a crush on Haku. Zatsune has a crush on Mew. She denies it. Gumi has a crush on IA. Dislike- Dandy and Cider always fight… with a weird sort of tension. Akaito and Uta don’t get along Miku Zatsune and Miku Hatsune don’t get along Lily and Merli don’t get along (MORE COMING SOON)

#vocaloid #utau #synth v #synthesizer v #chipspeech #total drama island #my writing #au #brainstorm #vacation #life of pastell #fanfic #fic #fav

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cherryjuicegf · 3 years

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do you have any geraskier fic recs?? I have some time on my hands since it's Christmas and I'm kinda curious to know what fics are you fave and stuff xx

dear anon i have to thank you from the depths of my heart for this cause i've been dying to make a rec list and always put it off so it's finally time. now this got just a bit long, i have about 20 fics that have a special place in my heart under the cut with a sort commentary. sorry if you've read any of them but i will be extremely happy if you find something you like!!! 💜

under 1k

gallery by Naughty-Yorick (@a-kind-of-merry-war), G, 387 words -> modern au, reincarnation, this ficlet although short broke my heart and put it back together, i literally gasped in the end

sip the sunlight from your eyes by troubadore (@geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek), G, 905 words -> the beauty of this fic leaves me stunned, geralt's eyes are gorgeous and the fic describes it perfectly, jaskier knows what he signed up for

1k - 10k

right person in front of them the whole time by lesdemonium(winnerstick) (@lesdemonium), T, 2k -> this fic is a modern au and i just have no words to describe how much i love it. the inherent romance of knowing the other deeply and sharing the same love and also the same one braincell just got to me.

also recommending everything by the same author, M, 8k -> this fic is 40% the reason my relationship standards reach heavens, it's just so tender and the affection between geralt and jaskier just warms my heart

beautiful, he stirs up still things by alittlebitmaybe, T, 2.5k -> this fic?? slow dancing and gentleness and pining, so much pining, it just makes me scream in my pillow every time

another dawn by the same author, T, 8k -> a fic with vivid memories, reading it at 2am and having to wake up early in the morning, the first time loop i read and it had me screaming every. single. time. if you're patient it's worth a thousand rereads

like real people do by julek (@julek), T, 1.5k -> this fic is unbelievably tender, it just has me in tears with all its yearning and not-so-unrequited love, 1000% rec

i wouldn't know what i have lost (i'll be howling for you) by kaffas (hoopoe), T, 3.2k -> epistolary fic, it just makes me scream because of geralt's devotion and the mortifying ordeal of being known etc and the understanding between them just has me in tears

soap suds and capable hands by ivelostmyspectacles, T, 4.3k -> this fic makes me warm and sleepy, it's so sweet and soft, read it before you sleep for sweet dreams

summer sun and solstice shadows by ninemelodies (@ninemelodies), T, 6.2k -> THIS. ONE. FAVE. i first read it in summer and it's my comfort fic, they love each other so much and there's flower symbolism, the perfect amount of angst, pining and love, so much love my heart melts

love on his tongue by kickassfu (@kickassfu), G, 1.8k -> the pining and flirting in this one makes me weak, they dance in a ball as pray for a monster and it makes me grin so hard

a heartbeat in hand by asweetepilogue (@asweetprologue) G, 2.6k words -> this fic is so poetic, so smooth and soft and the ending just kills me, it's perfect

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) by xdandelionxbloomx (@xdandelionxbloomx), M, 7.5k -> please mind the warnings in this one, you really need a strong stomach to read it. however, i remember this one and it just makes me gasp, it breaks my heart in a million pieces and the ending is so cathartic. also whenever i listen to the songs in it i think about the scences and. i cry.

kintsukuroi by arsamandi (@love-and-cubs-and-white-wolves), T, 4.2k -> this one was posted today and it had me in awe, it's book!geralt with show!jaskier personalities and has some time of contempt spoilers so i'm sorry if you want to avoid them, however i had to recommend because it's one of the best fics i've read, every single line is exceptionally good and so well-written, it made me cry and laugh and i can read it a thousand times more

over 10k

all the liars in the world by kageygirl (@kageygirl), E, 14k -> i have such vivid memories of this fic, i was returning from a trip and it was 1am, top bunk in the cabin with my parents and sister sleeping, trying not to be heard while i was gasping and crying, it's incredibly sweet and soothing, it fills me with happiness

the power to cancel his captivity by the same author E, 23k -> i'm so soft for this fic, it takes geralt and jaskier's relationship from the start and describes how they settle together during the years, it made it so much easier for me to cherish their relationship and it has a special place in my heart

what you wish for by didoandis, E, 11.1k -> i rarely read body swap fics but this is not really that, it's so interesting and angsty and also funny in many parts, the emotion in this just captivates you and the end left me gaping

multichapters

companionship by ArliaDevi, T, 14k, complete -> this one? excellent. incredible. absolute gold. ciri's pov and geralt and jaskier's awkwardness and attempts at hiding are hilarious, i love it with my whole being

lessons in mortality by Girl_In_Red_Crossing (@girl-in-red-crossing), E, 21k, complete -> ahhh this fic is just so so good, it's angsty at the start and the classical jaskier heals after he's tortured but it's wonderfully written and makes my heart ache just to fill it with more and more love with each chapter

demand an encore by Emamel (@theaceace), M, 51k, unfinished -> maybe you have already read this but i have to express my love for it, i don't read witcher!jaskier fics but this one is just amazing, keeping me on the edge of my seat at all times, each phrase a literal dagger in my heart and i'm dying to see how it ends

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #fic recs #geralt x jaskier

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peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

perfidy;tom holland|17

chapter 17: the actors

enemies to lovers au/enemies with benefits

chapter summary: tom and y/n want to rule the world alone

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angsty, fluff, Tom gets drunk, didn’t proof read

word count: 8.6k whoooops

here’s a playlist

and here’s another one

and here’s another one inspired by 1D

social media before you read (IMPORTANT FOR THE CHAPTER) :

tweets, texts and instagram: with Tom and y/n on their date and giving no updates to their friends

previous chapter next chapter series masterlist wanna be tagged?

Hi, it came early again! This is angsty because well it was coming but because Taylor released Folklore, go stream it!!! and i’m sad because of 1D so :)

A rain was falling down in a clear sky.

Timothée. A perfect name. Perfect eyes, perfect nose, perfect lips. Perfect guy. Everybody said it. Everybody saw it. A melodic laugh that would be heard all across the room, bright eyes that were only meant to look at y/n. The curls falling down on his forehead and the bright beam everytime she looked at him. The gentle whispers, secret kisses. The way they finished each other’s sentences and the way they sometimes had coordinated outfits without them even trying. The way he was in her kind of scene, and the way he always managed to picture her in her brightest glory, the way he pictured her being her. Because she was herself whenever she was around him. Never faking, always laughing. The way she’d be calm, and not doubting, not fearing. The way he fit her description of her perfect guy. As if they’d made him out of her dreams, sculpting it. A Greek sculpture, but hey, they guy only spoke in Greek tragedies.

Tom was very well aware that the damned guy was everything y/n could’ve asked for. From the first moment he’d met him, Tom knew that y/n would completely fall in love with him. Y/N would end up with him. And he’d seen her fall in love with him, as Tim would watch her as she danced around the room, spinning that strawberry--or were they cherries?-- dress she loved to wear. He’d seen her sing around him, because she trusted him. Tom saw Y/N find her happy place. Fucking Timothée.

And he hated it was with Tim. Because he knew that Tim had been the one to be there when he broke her heart. When it should’ve been Harry. Even all of this crafted shit, Tom had fucked it up, because Harry had also distanced himself from y/n.

And all because he had fucked up. If that night he had had the guts to accept it.

He wondered whether Harry would’ve been heartbroken or not. Correction, he wondered how heartbroken his brother would have been. And he remembered how for the first time, after that, Harry had ignored him. So angry at him.

But nobody knew what Tom had gone through. How many times had he stopped himself from going to her and try to say he hadn’t meant it, to try and kiss her, mend her heart. When his own heart broken. And he had been lonely too, and he also hadn’t gone out. He didn’t have the energy, he only stared at the ceiling, asked questions that had no answers.

And they hadn’t spoken after that, not even after y/n was slowly coming back into his life. He had gone filming, and sometimes he’d shed a tear but no one would know it.

And then one day, y/n was talking to Harry again, and he heard her voice over the phone, and his heart had stopped. And he wanted to say he was sorry, and he wondered if she knew that he was also destroyed.

And then, a party, James’ birthday, maybe. He couldn’t remember. And he had seen her, and she had avoided his gaze and he only wanted to scream everything he’d ever felt. But he had kept it to himself.

And then, he saw him, Tim. A new friend of y/n’s Harry said. And Tom saw the way Tim looked at her, and the way he had made her smile. A smile Tom hadn’t seen in months. All because he had fucked up, Tim had taken away his chance.

Did y/n see Tom? Did y/n see that Tom was also anxious and breaking? Did y/n ever listen to what he wanted to say?

Y/N had approached James, and then was speaking with whoever had crossed her path. And Tom knew it was wrong, and he wondered if she had thought about calling him, too. If they had stared at the phone at the same time. If she ever wanted him to go to her door.

Timothee had approached Harry and him. Tom stared at him, up and down.

“So, I don’t know you,” Tom chuckled. “Hi, I’m Tom.”

“Oh, I finally meet you, Tom, I’m Timothée.”

And it sounded like one of the silly names y/n would come up for in her stories. A bloody main character.

“Are you… y/n’s….?” Tom asked.

Harry chuckled. “They’re just friends.”

Timmy had smiled. “Yeah, for now.”

Tom had hidden his frown and faked a laugh. “Oh, so you do want to date her?”

Harry had pursed his lips and then watched Tim.

Timothée had cleared his throat. “Yeah, she’s... “ And he had looked back at her, y/n had given Tim a faintly embarrassed smile, she had blushed. “she’s just like a song, or a movie, she’s splendid. She is a main character, isn't she?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Tom had said.

“Look at her, she just stands out in a crowd, and I swear I can hear her voice across the room and it’s music to my ears,” Tim explained. “There’s so much mystery to her, I—.”

Tom had to agree, and she was wearing that golden dress that made her perfectly different from everyone in the room. Bright as she could be, red lips and hair flowing.Y/N then looked back at them, and then she finally crossed eyes with Tom, her smile had faded away, and she had quickly looked away.

“You’ll finally ask her out, then?” Harry chuckled. “It’s been taking you long enough.”

Tim grinned. “Yeah, I just want her to be ready,” he explained. “She… Did she recently go through a breakup or-?”

Tom had felt a stab across his chest, no, not a breakup, a heartbreak possibly.

“No,” Harry shook his head. “But y/n is very complicated.”

“Very,” Tom added. “Too complicated, you don’t want to get there. She’s too crazy.”

Tim chuckled. “And she mentioned you were her biggest enemy.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, he is so don’t listen to him.”

Of course, from what he had initially seen, he thought Timmy didn’t have a chance. Sure the guy was perfect but y/n probably wouldn’t give him a chance.

And it had started.

“Y/N’s new boyfriend is perfect isn’t he?” His mother had once said. “He’s such a sweetheart.”

And he had heard it once, and twice and everyone was saying it, at an early Christmas dinner y/n’s family had thrown.

“He’s the guy she’ll end up marrying,” y/n’s mother, Elaine, had said. “It’s just amazing how good they are for each other.”

“Yeah, I must admit it, that Tim really has won her over, and not only her, all of us,” James had said.

“She’ll be spending Christmas with his family, in France we will see how it goes, he’s a good guy,” Richard, y/n’s dad had mentioned. “She’ll probably come back with a ring in her hand. I’ve never seen her happier.”

“This Timmy guy, really, I’m glad she found him. She finally needed to date someone who treated her like the queen she is,” Sam had mentioned.

And Tom knew it had been lost when even Harry had said it.

“They’re perfect for each other. I am so happy she’s happy.”

And if Harry was happy, when he had been in love with her. Then Tom should be, too, right?

Then why wasn’t he?

But all of them had been wrong, right? All of them had been completely and utterly wrong because y/n had not accepted the marriage proposal. Y/N couldn’t have been as happy as everyone had claimed she had been. Tim had been right where Tom should’ve been.

Problem was, Tom knew she had been. And even if she had said that she had loved Tom, there was a part of Tom that knew that y/n had been lying about that statement. Because y/n had actually fallen in love so deeply with Timothee, and because Tom was well aware that he was only just for a little bit, to cease her thoughts. Tom knew y/n would end up realizing that Tom wasn’t what she wanted him to be. Because Tom was not Timmy.

And Tom had that very present. That’s probably why he had searched for a thousand things to do with her, the film museum, then the picnic at the park, then maybe a philharmonic. Everywhere that Tim would’ve taken her. Because Tom feared that y/n would realize how different they were.

And Tom feared that she had her heartbreaks very present. And that Timmy had been the one to pull her out of them.

When he had found the ring, it made it even more present, y/n had kept it. Sure she had said no, but her no had meant “not yet”. The ring had meant that she, yes, wanted to know what it felt like to date Tom, but she’d eventually run back to Tim, because he was her endgame.

But she had gone to give it back. And maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. If she hadn’t given it back on her own, she probably was still holding on to him.

The fantasy had tumbled down in less than 5 minutes. And it seemed so crazy, less than 24 hours. They’d gone from her having dinner with Tim, with him admitting his feelings, with her saying she was in love too, to the perfect date and now. Back to reality. Knowing that their promises and apologies had barely meant anything at all. It would eventually fall out.

Because Tom also feared that all of this was some sort of revenge y/n was planning and that she’d go back to Tim and be happy.

Because they were both right, and they knew that they didn’t trust each other. And he was selfish. He didn’t want y/n to ever be around Timothée. But he knew that he could never control y/n, not that he wanted to. But he had the right.

He remembered it, when they dated. How he’d be in the worst state each time Timmy placed his hand on her hips, or his lips on her skin. He hated it. He despised it. How he wished to be in his place.

And even know that he knew that y/n probably was breaking Tim’s heart he couldn’t help but think about it, how with one kiss Tim could probably make her leave Tom. That’s all it took him, his fingers to delicately brush against her arm. That’s the power Tim had over y/n.

And now he was calling her, he wanted her to be back already. Even if Tom was in shambles.

He took out the alcohol bottles from the minibar, downing a shot of whiskey, he felt the warm liquor burn his throat. What if Tim caressed her cheek? What if with one look y/n realized the big mistake Tom was?

He called her.

Straight to voicemail. Tom tapped his foot anxiously. He needed another shot. He couldn’t wait for her right there.

So he went down to the hotel bar. And he didn’t know if he was worried more about the fact she was with Timmy or that she was alone in a city like New York. He kept calling her, it rang a few times but then to voicemail.

Tom ordered a gin and tonic, first, then a beer, and then a scotch and he ignored everybody in the room. He only kept trying to call her, and he texted only asking if she was okay.

And she answered a simple yes.

Which drove Tom crazier. He downed another drink. His body warming up, not sure if it was with rage, jealousy, or the alcohol. He clenched his jaw, she drove him completely insane. It would leave nowhere.

He ignored his phone, everything, he only listened to the band that played gentle slow rock that was playing at the bar. And he kept waiting. Picturing the worst.

But suddenly he had seen her walking into the bar, too, after a while, after yet more beers and another scotch. And he stopped to see if it was truly her. Undeniably, it was her. Slightly smudged mascara under her eyes, and a trace of her crying, but her lipswere bright red. She hadn’t seen him, she had sat near the band, ordered a gin and tonic, first, too. He only saw how her lipstick stained the glass. She seemed… angry, sad, confused. Tom could read those emotions just fine, the usual face she’d sketch whenever he was around.

At least she wasn’t with Tim, thought Tom. He texted her again, she only lifted her phone and then took a deep breath. She didn’t text back. But he saw tears streaming down her face.

It was particularly weird. Being in the same room. He waited for the song to finish until he decided to send her a drink. Another gin and tonic.

He watched her, and she seemed surprised when the waiter had told her a gentleman had sent her a drink, she denied the drink until the waiter pointed at Tom. And she suddenly stopped, her eyes landed on him, as if she was deciding whether or not to walk over. But Tom was already wasted, so he made the decision himself. He paid for his and her drinks and then stumbled up to stand, he didn’t want to be in the same room as her right now. He was too dizzy, the floor was moving just as he walked out of the hotel bar and made his way to the elevator.

But before the door closed, y/n ran into the elevator. Tom gave her a drunken smile, watching her yet again get far from him.

“Heeeeey,” a drunk and slurred voice came out.

Y/N turned coldly. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” he lied but then opened his arms, laying against the elevator wall. “Mmhm c’mere.”

She didn’t look at him now.

“Y/N,” he called her, loudly. “Are you—are we breaking up even if—hic—even if we only dated for like 10 minutes? Are you going back to Timmy Tim?” His words sounded slow and long.

“Tom, stop, no, okay, you’re too drunk and I’m not in the mood to talk about this, okay? We’re not breaking up,”she confirmed and walked over to his side. He could now see she really had been crying, her eyes were still trying to hold back more tears, and she kept avoiding his gaze. Her cheeks were probably humid.

He reached out for her hand lazily, and brought it to his lips. She looked away. He tried to kiss her cheek, but she turned around again.

“God, you stink of alcohol, Tom,” she rolled her eyes as he mumbled an apology.

He frowned, and tried to lean over, he ended up nuzzling into her neck. She sighed, but caressed his hair anyway.

“Do you hate me?” He asked her.

“Yes,” she answered.

He pouted. “Y/N,” he hiccuped again. “Mm… didn’t ya love me?” His words were even more slurred now.

“Yes.”

He tried to stand back up but he was so dizzy, that he decided to keep leaning against her.

“You’re being really annoying right now, I understand you got angry but right now I’m too emotional to deal with drunk you —” She pointed out as the doors opened, Tom didn’t move. “Thomas,” she sighed. “C’mon, let’s…Tom, I’m really not in the mood to do this.”

It seemed like the floor was spinning, but he helped him out, as he was striding to their room, y/n helping him as he had a shoulder around her, using her as support.

Before she opened the door, Tom took her hand again and brought it up to his gaze.

“what are you—what are you doing?” She asked.

“Checking if you’re not wearing the ring, babe” Tom mumbled.

Y/N sighed. “I gave it back.”

Tom looked at the blurry image standing in front of him and formed a smile. “Good.”

She opened the door, and Tom stumbled right behind her, he was still angry, but that soothed him. Y/N guided him to the bed, sitting him down.

“You’ve… you have,” he closed his eyes and burped. “You’ve been crying,” Tom pointed out as he watched her walking around the room.

She then was right beside him, Tom didn’t even notice how, but she handed him a bottle of water. “Drink.”

Tom watched her. “Have you been crying?”

She took a deep breath, “yes,” she answered. “Just drunk the water, Tom.”

“Why?” He questioned as she glared at him, “why are you crying?”

“Tom—drink the water.”

He took a sip, “You love him.”

“Tom—right now I really—I know this is too simple for you, I know that this seems simple for you, if anything you’ll just go on and live with your life okay? But—I need you not to make this hard for me,” she snapped as she walked away.

Tom watched her. “I know, you just officially let go of the love of your life I know, I know.”

She crossed her arms turning back to him. “You’re really being an ass.”

“I am just hurt y/n,” he admitted. “I am sooo in love with you and you just see me as...I don’t know”

She took a deep breath, “I didn’t mean to hurt you okay?” Her voice was shaking. “I was going to give it back I just—hadn’t found the right time but—I gave it to him, happy?”

Tom blinked, giving it a thought. “No.”

“I...really don’t want you to be hurt okay?” She walked over, taking his hands.. “You were not supposed to know.”

Tom gave her a cynic smile. “But I found it,” he shrugged.

“Yes, but—Tom,” she sighed. “really just we will talk when you’re sober and when I’m not on the verge of tears—“

He wasn’t really listening, he couldn’t focus. “Did he kiss you?”

She closed her eyes. “No.”

“Did he… try to kiss ya?”he pushed.

“No, Tom,” she let him go, and then more tears were coming down her cheeks. “I broke his heart, and do you know how fucking difficult it was?” She gulped. “That’s why I—I hadn’t done it yet because I didn’t want to spend my last days in New York with you crying over someone else—“

Tom laid down on the bed. “Y/N you still have feelings for him.”

“Tom oh my god, do you really want to go there?”

He chuckled. “Just did, besides it’s clear you still love him because you’re crying.”

“Tom, it’s not if I have feelings or not,” she pointed out. “I am sad because I just closed a very important part of my life for something—“

“For something not certain,” he finished her line.

“You don’t even understand this, you’re too drunk for me to explain this.” She was angry, so angry.

“Try then,” he sat up. He had a sad, cynic smile across his face, and he could barely keep his eyes open.

“I don’t even know if I want to,”she admitted, arms over her chest as she leaned against the wall. “we’ve already yelled and fought at each other twice in less than two days,” she sassed. “and I’m just here thinking hey, this won’t work!” She looked away. “because we don’t trust each other.”

He felt like somehow that had sobered him up. “Good to know you don’t trust me,” he laughed with sarcasm, as he rubbed his face.

“Well, do you? Do you trust me? If you did, we wouldn’t be helping this conversation.”

He didn’t answer.

She shrugged, chuckling. “There’s your answer, we are both so damaged, Tom. This won’t be easy and you just have to accept it,” she explained.

He looked away. “Why did you keep the ring?”

“Tom.”

He took a deep breath. “I just need to know y/n because I—I know how much you loved him and feelings simply don’t disappear—“

She only walked to the window. “Everybody said it, okay?” She sniffed. “And I’m someone who plans ahead and I’m someone who—Who ends up doing the right thing, and I kept—“he could see her breaking her heart. “I kept the ring because he told me to,”her voice was now completely broken. “, and because I thought everyone says it—and I—“

“That you were perfect,” Tom finished,

“And I’ve always been known for making all the wrong choices—“

“And Timmy is the right one isn’t he?” He cackled. “Great.”

“Bloody hell, Thomas you’re not making it easy,” she snapped.

He stood up. “Y/N literally what the hell do I have to do for you to fucking look at me?” He asked as he walked to her, placing his hands on her shoulders so she’d finally face him, and to not lose balance, as well. “All my life I’ve literally been doing the impossible and yet you always turn around—“

“Oh my god,” she closed her eyes as she pushed his arms away. “”I can’t believe you, I’m in love with you!” She yelled. “Don’t you fucking see it? I’m in love with you,” she cried as she walked away. “after crying for a fucking year for that night in the club, I can’t bloody look at yellow flowers without tearing up but guess what,” she chuckled angrily. “I still fucking choose you every time, Tom, you literally don’t have to do anything for me to always fucking choose you and that’s why I don’t get it!” She turned back to see him. “I don’t get why, and yet you still doubt it, and even if you we’re screwing me over and over I still chose you and even if there was either Tim or Harry or—“

“Harry?” Tom didn’t even let her finish as she finally paused. “Harry?”

“I—no, let’s not go there,” she shook her head and hugged herself.

Tom was sober now. “No, I want to fucking know now.”

“Tom no, you’re drunk let’s—“she closed her eyes, as she looked around, trying to escape.

“What about Harry?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you know—“

“Yes, Tom I knew—“She snapped.

The weather had turned cold, he thought he heard rain falling down but the night sky was clear.

“How did you know?” Tom asked, quietly.

She huffed, “Because unlike you, he’s shown me his whole life that he loves me.”

Tom felt it again, an anger or guilt he had suffered from throughout his life. “Then why the fuck do you love me if you—Harry was perfect!”

She blinked with confusion. “What?”

“You should end up with Harry.”

“See? Now you get it,” she sat on the bed. “Everyone says it, Harry or Tim how nice and perfect, and yet—I choose you, Tom I don’t even know why you’re angry at me,” she complained “they all said it, but you know what and they also always said I would end up dating you, people are strange huh? They say a lot of things.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She gulped down a sob, but then calmed down. “I’ve heard it all Tom,” she explained. “I know. That’s what I’m trying to tell you, the heart wants what it wants.”

“But—everyone says it.”

“Yes I know, that Tim is my endgame and that Harry was the guy I should’ve fallen in love with, but guess what! They also said that we needed to sleep together to finally get along and look at us now, people are wrong, aren’t they?”

He closed his eyes, hurt, as he sat beside her. “No—I—“

“I need to sleep,” she stood up. They didn’t follow the routine that night, not together.

“I don’t want to go to bed like this,” he said as y/n picked up a pillow and a blanket and walked over to the sofa. “Y/N no—come here. If anything I’ll sleep there.”

She sat down, hugging the pillow, so he made his way over.

“Y/N, no come on, please—Let’s, I’m sorry okay?” He sighed sitting beside her. She stayed quiet, but scooted closer to him. “Y/N?”

“I don’t want it to rain in New York, Tom,” she whispered. “And I’m trying, okay? I just hope you’re trying, too.”

She then went quiet, but then snuggled close to him, with her eyes closed. Tom blinked, but wrapped his arms around her confused. He still had a lot of thoughts in his head. Very confusing, hurtful thoughts. Especially around what she said about Harry.

But then again, she was right, why the hell did she doubt her if she’d chosen him over and over?

But then guilt, the guilt of not wanting to break his brother’s heart. He decided it right there in that precise moment, that he wanted to tell him. Harry was with Emma. It was now or never.

And he understood what she meant, maybe she’d felt it too, the thunder striking outside, but… If he looked out the window, the night was clear, the stars were bright.

The next day they didn’t even talk about it, y/n had woken up earlier than him, Tom had woken up sore from sleeping on a couch, but he knew that she’d held him all night long, he had heard her cry in the middle of the night, he had seen her pace around the room but then, eventually she came back and snuggled him. But he woke up alone, and it felt weird, but she had gone out and brought him a juice that she swore would cure his hangover. Neither him or y/n addressed anything they had talked the night before.

He understood what she meant. This was Rome. New York was the new Rome, the part where they both could be happy, live the fairytale and then it would come to London, rainy London. Even if the sky in New York had turned gray.

And though Tom was facing a constant headache they both quietly decided that they’d enjoy the clear sky in New York. They went to that museum in Queens, they walked through Central Park and enjoyed a Picnic, they even bought a kite and flew it. And they didn’t fight. Not once, or not in the way they had fought the night before. As if both of them were actively avoiding it, pretending they were fine. Laughs. On the edge, as if the other would bring up one heartbreak eventually. They were fine. Even if they weren’t.

But maybe, just maybe, they were. Even if the fantasy they were living was crafted, a film he’d seen before, not with him. Maybe that’s why it felt different, because Tom was trying too much. And so was y/n, because that day they weren’t each other. Like they played a part of something they didn’t belong in. Because they were being seen, in a way.

But Tom looked at y/n, and even if her eyes looked tired, and even if her smile was slightly sad, her eyes brightened up when they looked at each other. That’s probably what had him crazy, because she was choosing him, even if just last night they were fighting. Why did y/n choose someone who broke her? Why couldn’t he stop breaking her?

He felt like he’d run out of chances, and he knew this was the last time. Not sure why it felt like that, but maybe that’s why they were trying so hard to make each other smile and forget the night before.

Were they forcing this too much? Had they loved each other so much and they had been so impatient that they had forced this? Like a film. Playing a part.

He knew what he had to do.

New York became a memory that they didn’t want to let go. The last days of filming had gone very quickly, especially because Tim wasn’t around anymore, and there were no more peonies coming. Tim looked destroyed, Tom had caught him smoking cigarettes and hiding a tear. Tom knew how it felt, he’d been there before, feeling like someone else had taken his place, a place that belonged to him. He couldn’t blame him.

And maybe Tom had just a slight bit of sympathy and guilt and maybe that’s why he hadn’t kissed y/n as much when Tim was around. The guy wasn’t to blame, honestly. Even if he despised him, Tim had nothing to blame right now. If anything, Tom respected him because y/n had broken his heart.

And the last night, while they were in the bathtub, surrounded by bubbles and foam, his arm around her, her back against his chest, glasses of red wine in their hands, the lights out, they were quiet. They had been quiet those days. Words were their strongest weapons and this time they didn’t want to wound each other.

“y/n?” he had talked.

And he felt how she had shifted, turning cold, as if she didn’t want to have any conversation. “Yes?”

“I… I uh, called my parents before,” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah, I heard, that’s why I didn’t interrupt.”

“Yeah,” he gulped before placing a sweet kiss on her shoulder. “I…” He gulped, “Apparently they’re… having another lunch party of sorts with your parents when we come back, and we have to be there.”

“Ah, yeah, James told me about it, what’s with them always throwing parties together?” she chuckled as she blew some bubbles at him. “As if they didn’t see each other once a week.”

Tom grinned, as he then decided to splash out some water at her. “And as if we didn’t hang out on our own.”

She laughed, leaning against him, she took his hand and played with it.

Tom locked his fingers with hers, and took a sip of his wine.

“Oh, if they knew,” she chuckled. “We haven’t behaved, haven’t we?” she asked before turning around to beard him up with the bubbles.

Tom almost choked on his wine, but chuckled. “Y/N!”

“What?” she giggled. “I don’t think this is exactly what they wanted when they told us to behave whenever we fought.”

He grinned, agreeing. He really didn’t want this to die, not this time. Because this wasn’t supposed to be forbidden, this wasn’t them being silly children fighting, or kissing. This wasn’t illicit, the deal couldn’t be expired.

“I told them I was seeing someone,” Tom mentioned after a while.

She turned warm again and then turned to face him. “Yea?”

He smiled. “Yes, hope you don’t mind”

She chuckled. “I… did they ask who?”

“Yes,” Tom gulped. “I didn’t tell them, told them I wanted them to meet her.”

She laughed. “I love pretending not to know your parents,” she looked down at him and placed a soft kiss on the edge of his lips.

“So, I told them that I’d bring her to lunch,” he whispered, hoping this wasn’t something that would bring their little act down.

She paused, taking a deep breath.

Tom then feared his words had been a knife and he had just stabbed her. But then, after what Tom felt was the longest minute of his life she turned to him.

“Well, I hope they like her and that she’s there on time” And she’d kissed him.

“And… I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I… also have a song for us.”

“Ah, you do?”

“Yeah, that’s what’s been keeping me awake these two nights,” he said, ignoring what had happened the night before. “It took me a lot to think about it.”

“Really?”

“Yes because it couldn’t be a normal song, you know? I can’t just simply choose a random one.”

“Why not?” She chuckled.

“Because it’s you, it either has to be an 80’s song or a One Direction song, I know you,” he laughed.

She giggled. “But… If a song fits, it fits, you know?” She tilted her head.

“Okay, I’m just going to pretend you just didn’t say that,” he blinked. “Because I really wanted it to be perfect, and…I really had to think about it to fit your whole aesthetic, and crazy mind of yours, and I came up with this one. And now, I’ll…” He reached for his phone. “I just want you to close your eyes, and…”

“Does it have a meaning?”

“I just feel like… It fits, you know?” he chuckled. “It’s actually a song about war.”

She blinked. “War?”

“Yeah, war.”

“Funny, I also relate a war concept to you,” she whispered.

“Huh?”

“Nothing, what’s the song?” She smiled.

“Close your eyes….”

And she did, and he played the song. Everybody Wants To Rule The World. Tears for Fears. And maybe that song did it for them, because they believed it.

The flight back home had been quiet, and y/n said she never wanted to forget New York, the city that never sleeps, and the city where they barely had slept, tangled up in the sheets and yearning for an eternal moonlight, memorizing each other. The city where they had only found each other in a crowd, where no matter how chaotic, they’d found peace. A sun making its way back out after a storm. Tom didn’t want to leave the clear blue sky, the cozy nights, the hope, he didn’t want to go back to the rain. Because it felt like it was coming.

But London received them with a bright sunny day, not a gray sky. It was sunny, and warm. And maybe it was telling them that it’d be alright.

Tom had only gone back home, picked out a few clothes, avoided Harrison and then decided to go to y/n’s place. He avoided everyone’s calls. So had y/n. They needed to be alone before everything could explode.

Because just the very next day, they’d go to the lunch thing. And he knew that he wasn’t nervous about his parents, or her parents. Both of them were nervous about Harry. Even if they hadn’t said anything, he knew both of them were very very very anxious about it. Especially now that Tom knew that y/n had known about his brother’s infatuation towards her. And he still hadn’t yet decided how to feel about it. Guilty, at least. Very, very guilty. And maybe angry at y/n. But was he, really? He loved her, and she loved him back. He couldn’t be stupid enough to think about how y/n didn’t love someone else.

This was y/n’s fault, or was it Tom’s? Why the hell couldn’t he make up his mind about this. And he thought how it would go, how if she’d chosen Harry instead. How he’d have to stay quiet, be happy for his brother. But Harry? Would Harry be happy?

Because Tom knew that that territory was dangerous, mostly because y/n had been right. Tom had never shown her that he loved her, and Harry probably would get defensive, and he’d probably be angry because everyone said it, and he knew what was coming: Tom will break y/n’s heart because that’s all Tom does. Break y/n apart.

But Harry would bring Emma, right? It’d be okay. Harry had moved on, and the only thing Tom would have to deal with was the fact that TOm had hidden his love towards y/n.

He knew the conversation was long overdue, with y/n, with Harry. Of course, that by admitting it with everyone else there, he’d avoid some kind of drama. But if they didn’t, Tom decided to enjoy his tranquility alone with y/n. Kissing, and cuddling and laughing and then with their clothes again on the floor, tangled in between the sheets, and longing for the night to never end because the next day, it could probably rain.

They had a sort of plan, test the waters first.

And she’d chosen that strawberry dress, yes, it was strawberries, on a pink dress that Tom loved. And Tom felt dizzy, as he’d given her one last quick kiss before walking in, to see Nikki and Elaine with a glass of champagne in their hands as they were talking to each other.

They paused, watching Tom as he knew they tried to look behind him, trying to find the girl he had so talked marvels about.

They both kissed their mother’s cheeks, and hugged the others’.

“Well, hello, you two,” Elaine said. “I’m surprised you’re both complete after spending two months together,” she commented.

“We get along,” y/n laughed. “For now, besides, he was paying me so.”

“How was New York? It was always a dream of yours, did you like it?” Elaine asked.

“Loved it, it’s the best time I’ve ever had in my life,” she admitted with a grin.

Tom blushed, but then cleared his throat to look at his mother. “Uh, we--” He cleared his throat. “I brought wine, so...I’m gonna…”

Nikki grinned. “Tom, where’s your...girlfriend?” She sounded suspicious.

He chuckled as he headed to the kitchen. “Ah, she’ll be here, she’s running late,” he lied.

“Hm, not a great first impression as the new girlfriend huh?” Elaine commented.

Tom hid a grin, as he heard y/n chuckle. He took out two beers from the fridge and opened them

“So, y/n, thoughts on his new girlfriend? I assume you know her,” Nikki commented.

Tom walked back over, handed y/n a beer and laughed. “You’re really asking my worst enemy her thoughts on my new girlfriend?”

Elaine smirked. “She’s the one who will tell us the truth.”

Y/N snickered. “Uh- well,” she looked at Tom. “Mm, honestly she’s a little slutty, feel like he paid her to date her.”

Tom choked on his beer.

Elaine and Nikki widened their eyes with surprise.

“What?” the three of them said in unison.

“Y/N!” Her mother called her.

“I’m kidding,” she laughed. “Uh seriously I’m joking, , honestly I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I have an opinion of her, I only know she’s got terrible taste if she wants to date him.”

Tom smirked and faked a phony laugh. “Can’t deny that,” he grinned. “But, no, she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life, she’s stunning, so smart and talented.”

“But, let’s just say they can rule the world.”

Tom smiled.

Y/N smiled to herself. “So, where are the guys?”

“Sam, Rich and Dom went to buy some stuff, Pad is upstairs-”Nikki explained.

“And Ha--”Tom couldn't finish.

“I’m here, you guys arrived early,” James had walked in just in time for Tom and y/n to scoot away from each other. “Didn’t see your car, n/n,” he raised his brows with a smirk. He then turned with his coldest stare at Tom. “Thomas.”

“Hi, bro,” Tom awkwardly fist bumped him.

He said hello to Nikki and his mother.

“So, what’s the occasion this time?” James asked as he snatched the beer from his sister’s hand, she pouted but then Tom discreetly offered his, y/n denied it.

“As if we needed an occasion to have lunch together,” y/n pointed out.

“Tom’s got a girlfriend,” Elaine answered. “We’re meeting her today.”

James’ eyes widened as he stared between the young couple. “Does he, now?” Tom only sipped his beer. “Ah, I’ve never seen you guys make such a deal out of a new girlfriend,” James snaked, chuckling. “Well, what about you, y/n?” James grinned. “Have you a boyfriend now?”

Y/N now snatched the beer from Tom’s hands, taking a sip. “Hm?”

James raised his brows, chuckling. “Fine.”

“So…” Nikki cleared her throat. “Y/n, dear, I need you to help me out with something, you’re going to be Emma’s maid of honor right?”

“Yes!” Y/N gulped.

Nikki grinned, “amazing, can you come here a little and help me out?”

Tom held his breath as he watched his mother and y/n leave.

“So, Tom, how really is she?” Elaine asked. “No need to impress y/n now,” she chuckled.

“How is who?” James asked.

“We were talking about his girlfriend, y/n called her slutty,” Elaine commented.

“But she’s not!” Tom was quick to answer.

“No, I know,” Elaine laughed.

James crossed his arms and chuckled. “Mum, I don’t think you should be asking him that.”

“Well, she's running late, already making a bad impression, Tom, meeting the parents is always a deal breaker.”

James let out a long laugh. “I am sure they will love her.”

“Do you know her, already?” Asked Elaine. “Is she—how do you guys say it? A hottie?”

“Mum I really don’t think—“James chuckled. “Don’t.”

“She’s beautiful,” Tom said, snickering.

Elaine nodded. “So, Tom, I… I am going to ask you because well, you were there,” she sighed. “How did y/n do? With Tim being there?”

Tom turned cold. Of course Elaine would ask about Timothée. James’ eyes widened and he coughed.

“Mum, don’t… Go there,” James warned.

“Well, I’ve gotta ask,” she nodded. “I’m just worried, I… She was really bummed when they broke up. Tim really was the love of her life.”

Tom blinked and cleared his throat, he shook his head. “I… You know what? I.. I don’t think he is,” he said. “But yea, she did fine… And I’m getting another beer.”

Tom decided to not go back to that conversation and join his youngest brother instead, too busy playing on his Nintendo Switch, Tessa ran over to his lap. Eventually, he heard the door open again and men’s laughs filled the house, Richard, y/n’s father, Dom and Sam had walked in. No trace of Harry.

Tom had walked backstairs again to see Sam and Y/N catching up, laughing at something she was showing him on his phone. Still, no trace of Harry.

“Mum, where’s Harry?” Tom asked Nikki.

“Ah, he had something to do with Emma, you know, they’re planning an engagement party and--”

“They are? He didn’t tell me,” Harry frowned. “He’s not coming, then?”

“No,” Nikki shook her head. “He told me that he was happy you had a girlfriend though,” she mentioned.

Tom felt a stab in his chest. Did Harry know? Maybe he did, and if he did, was he happy? Maybe he had to tell this to his brother alone, not like this. This was the universe telling Tom that he had to speak to his brother, even if he’d been avoiding him for a while now.

The afternoon continued, and Tom and y/n were trying so hard not to give hints yet, and it was hard, Tom was holding back from taking her hand, from kissing her cheek. They’d gotten so used to being alone that this wasn’t them.

Tom and y/n had agreed not to say anything until the very end. But honestly, Tom didn’t know what this was even for anymore, their parents weren’t the ones who mattered and Sam and James probably had guessed it by now. For who was this surprise for? Paddy? This was the moment Tom had planned to tell Harry. Not… Well, if they were honest this was their way out to not be scared. To be alone even if they were surrounded by all of them.

“Tom’s girlfriend hasn’t showed up, huh?” Richard laughed. “We’ve all been there buddy, maybe it was too soon to meet the parents, huh?”

Tom laughed. “I… Don’t think it is.”

“So, is she actually a real girlfriend or another girl you’re parading with?” Richard pushed.

James took a long sip of his beer. “Yeah, Tom, is she a real girlfriend?”

Tom laughed nervously. “I… she’s a real girlfriend, I’m really hoping it’ll last.”

“Well, if she’s not here already, I wouldn’t be so sure,” Dom pointed out.

Sam burst out in laughter and nudged Tom. “Uh-huh.”

Tom managed a way to sneak out of the conversation as he had seen y/n walk in alone to the kitchen, he ran over to her and made sure nobody was watching before placing a kiss on her cheek from behind.

“Oh, hi,” she grinned.

“So how’s it going?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.

“So, my mum and your mum already hate me because I’m late and now they are wondering if I’m ugly because you’ve never said anything about it, and they really think I’m a little slutty,” she giggled.

“I mean, last night...” Tom smirked.

“Shut up!” She slapped his shoulder.

“I’m joking,” he laughed as he nuzzled into her neck, giggling.

“Well how is it going for you?” she frowned.

“Pretty much the same, they don’t suspect a thing,” Tom admitted, kissing her neck again.. “Mmh, should we tell them now?”

“I don’t know, maybe… We could wait, tell them she won’t be able to come and… I feel like… I dunno.” She turned around. “Now, this is obvious enough so,” she pushed him away before walking outside where they’d be eating.

They were getting ready, their sitting arrangements just as usual, Tom and y/n far away from each other. A seat, usual Harry’s seat, empty.

“And this is for your nameless girlfriend,” Nikki said as she placed an empty plate right beside Tom. “Whom I don’t think will show up now but…”

“Actually, mum, I’m gonna be sitting over there,” Tom said, taking his plate and walking over to y/n.

All the table went quiet, Sam and James only watched him curiously and about to burst into laughter. Seemed like the two of them had realized they both knew and they were having quite a lot of fun with this situation.

“You guys are gonna behave?” Elaine laughed.

“Yeah, think I can behave just fine with my girlfriend,” Tom smirked as he finally sat down beside y/n, finally holding her hand. It felt like the walls had tumbled down finally. There was only a wall far away, waiting to be tumbled, but Tom would take care of that himself later.

The table went cold and quiet, shock coming from both their parents faces as y/n was also a bit in shock. But she smiled.

“What?” Paddy was the only one to make a noise. “Didn’t you hate each other? What the hell?” He scrunched his nose with confusion.

They remained quiet, their eyebrows were raised and their mouths shaped in big ‘o’s.

The silence was broken with Elaine, gracefully turning to her best friend and smirking. “Give me my money back, and pay up.”

“What?” Tom and y/n asked in unison.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Nikki blinked as Elaine grinned. “Are you guys serious? Are you actually?”

“Yeah,” y/n chuckled. “I’m the slutty ugly girl who arrived late.”

Tom laughed. “No-”

“Pay up, Nik,” Elaine grinned.

“What?” Tom asked again.

“Your mothers decided to bet, Elaine said you’d end up dating with this and your mum said you wouldn’t,” Dom explained. “They’ve been doing this their whole lives and now it’s actually a--”

“You guys are betting over our love life?” Y/N frowned, laughing.

“You guys are dating?” Richard was the one to ask now. “What is going on?”

Of course, Tom and y/n couldn’t tell them how they had actually started dating, they had come up with them starting to hang out more and realizing their feelings with each other, and technically that wasn’t a lie, but of course Sam and James weren’t buying it, but they kept quiet, so it was good,at least so after calming down their shock. Obviously then seeing their parents' reactions and regrets over past comments about making fun of Tom and his non-existent girlfriend or about how she probably was ugly. It went… great, it was calm and they finally could slowly hold hands and they finally let themselves go. They were free, out of a cage, out of a staged lie, and they were on their best behavior, for the first time they didn’t hear it ‘children, behave’, and he finally could place an arm around her, and they didn’t have to hide the fact that they were lovingly staring into each other's eyes. They didn’t have to be alone now, and honestly, they could rule the world by then. Everything was perfect.

The news was great for both families, and although the one Tom wanted to know the most hadn’t heard it yet, he wasn’t scared, not for the first time. Because he felt free, for the first time he really wanted to do things right. Even if he’d heard it, and even if they hadn’t talked about it, they’d have time because they didn’t have to hide, not anymore.

He went back to her place again that night.

“So, that went amazing,” y/n commented as soon as they’d walk into her apartment, Tom couldn’t keep her hands off of her.

“I thought… I thought they wouldn’t like it,” he laughed.

“Can you believe they’ve been betting their whole lives?” She laughed. “God, I mean, I understand they’re best friends and that they-- But?”

He scoffed. “Maybe we should start betting on them too, you know? Stuff like, who’s going to go bald first or dunno.”

“Whatever, I think we should celebrate,” she smirked.

“Oh?”

She giggled but then pulled him in for a long, long kiss, as her tongue explored his. She quickly pulled away. “Huh, wait, what time is it? I haven’t--I haven’t sent out that thing for my script, shit, shit shit,” she continued cursing as she let him go, she ran over to her room and took out her laptop. Tom blinked but followed after her.

She was quick to type, and then she seemed so stressed as she kept swearing until she finally sent it in, whatever she was sending. Tom only sat on the edge of the bed watching her.

“Where were we?” She asked, before crawling over to him. She hadn’t closed her laptop.

“About to celebrate, I believe,” he smirked, as he wrapped his arms around her to kiss her again. She sat on his lap, and played with his hair.

Her phone started to ring, she ignored it, as she was taking off Tom’s shirt and he was ready to take off her cherry dress. But it kept ringing.

“Would you mind if---?” She asked as she took out her phone. Tom chuckled but kept his lips on her jawline, tracing it down with soft kisses. She cleared her throat. “Shit, it’s my boss.”

He kept kissing her neck, though.

“Uh, hi, Alessandra--”

“I’m sorry I’m calling you this late,” Tom heard her boss say over the phone. “I hope you’re not busy.”

Y/N bit her lip as Tom chuckled, kissing down his way to her collarbone.

“I’m… No, I’m not busy, it’s alright.”

“Well, uh, we need to talk about the script I uh--”

“Actually, um, Alessandra just give me a sec,” she cleared her throat as she quickly pushed Tom away and jumped off his grip. He pouted but then she placed a quick kiss on his lips before rushing out of her room.

Tom chuckled, and then stared at her laptop. He pulled it close and saw the opened document, from what he could see it was her script. The same script she’d been so secretive about. Of course he was going to read it, he wanted to praise her work and talent, so he started reading it.

But maybe he shouldn’t have, because just as he started, a storm started pouring down in London.

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sereineity · 3 years

Text

how many more sleepless nights?

genre: nonidol!au, ANGST, slight fluff

summary: a year is a long time, isn’t it? you’ve spent yours stuck in an eternal, monochrome winter. a surprise encounter derails all of your plans: feelings fade… or do they, really?

pairing: taehyung x reader

word count: 5.4k

warnings: swearing, terrible terrible angst (im sorry!), heartbreak, implied smut, angsty flashbacks :(

[ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ]

09:17am, december 17, 2020

Your heart aches for him, the echo of a honeyed baritone, the ghost of his warm, muscular arms wrapped around your shoulders.

It’s for the best, you had thought. It’s for the best.

Stop. This is getting ridiculous.

No. You need this.

The winter air roughly brushes against your cheeks, hurrying you along.

What are you so afraid of?

Go. Just go. Get it over with.

��This is the Special Rapid Train, on the Gyeongwon line, headed for Sosoyan. We will be stopping at Seokgye, Wolgye, Dobong and Iryeong. Please stay clear of the sliding doors!”

Stop it.

Too engrossed in your thoughts, you don’t notice the closing of the doors and the blinking of the lights until you hear the loud system once more as the train starts to accelerate.

“Iryeong, Iryeong. Our next stop is Iryeong, please get off on the right side of the train.”

Stop.

You’re hopeless, aren’t you?

But he’s not.

The loudspeaker crackles to life, confirming your worst fears. “Arriving at Iryeong, please stay clear of the doors and exit on the right side of the train.”

You twitch.

Three. Two.

“Wait!”

You’re blessed with a moment of solitude, feeling nothing but the cold air chilling your face, until you realize where you are and why you’re here.

Stop. Get a fucking grip, will you?

Stop it.

“Y/N…”

Things are different now, Y/N.

“T-Tae…”

Look at what you’ve done to him.

“Why are you here?” he asks, burying his head in his hands. “Y/N, why are you here?”

“I… I came because…”

Y/N, say something?

“I came because I… I was looking for you.”

What the fuck?

His head snaps up, his piercing stare catching your gaze once again. “You were looking for me?”

You feel your heart stop.

“You’re telling me this now?” Taehyung manages, features distorted in pain. “You’re telling me this now, a whole fucking year after you walk out the door without a single word to me?”

You look down at the ground, hating, blaming your traitorous mouth for saying something that you hadn’t fully thought through.

No, Y/N. You have to stop bringing everyone down.

You’ve lost all rational thought when you say, “yes, Taehyung. Yes. I had nothing to say to you then and nothing to say to you now. It’s done and it’s over.”

You couldn’t even say sorry?

You feel your heart breaking, splintering into thousands, millions of tiny little fragments raining down like shards of glass. It hurts, it hurts like hell.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Don’t force yourself into anything. There’s no need to anymore. There’s no more need to lie, no more need to pretend that you’re happy.”

“Thank you for telling me the truth.”

“You’re welcome.”

“At least I get to say goodbye,” he says, wistfully. “At least I now have the chance to say goodbye.”

But forever doesn’t exist.

“Goodbye, Y/N. Thank you for everything.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

[ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ]

11:42am, March 12 2021

[taehyung]

I miss you.

I miss you in the brightest mornings and the darkest nights, when the sun comes out to play and the rain starts pelting down like there’s no tomorrow. I’ll miss you in the loneliest winters and the blooming springs.

Why did you have to go?

Baby, did you know how much pain I’d be in when you’d left? Did you know how much it would hurt, how you’ve trapped me into this never-ending arctic, leaving me behind to freeze?

Did you know when you chose to go?

Then why can’t I get you out of my head?

Where are you now, Y/N?

But it’s too late now, isn’t it?

I’m still in love with you.

I think I always will be, Y/N. I know it’s selfish of me. I really can’t help it. I’m sorry.

I promise.

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙

an: i hope you liked it!!!! <3 please please please leave feedback my loves!

#taehyung #btsimagine #taehyungfic #btsfanfic #taehyungfanfic #taehyungangst #btsangst #btsfluff #btssmut #taehyungsmut #kimtaehyung #taehyungimagine #taehyungscenario #taehyung x reader #bts x reader

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untaemedqueen · 4 years

Text

The Lions Den

Mafia!Jimin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Mafia!AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Chapter 2.

Warnings: Smut, Blood, Guns, Knives, Excessive Cursing, Excessive Alcohol Intake, Smoking (Cigarettes and Cigars), Mental Health Issues

Warnings for this chapter: Angsty Babies Fight

TagList- @ayyyocee, @mysugabear03, @wisebtsgot7prune, @imaforeigner, @yeonkiminnie, @stories1907, @ppersonna, @brilee64, @gooplibrary, @vivpurple7, @xjoonchildx, @brightwingr5, @yaniposts22, @rjsmochii, @taeslittletiger, @pjmcth, @bts-chub, @kpoppingthempills

Sequel to The Bird Cage

You stand on the balcony overlooking the casino as the night begins to drag on. There were men and women as far as the eye could see. “Madam.” Your head turns to the voice before smiling at Kirsoon.

He hands you a glass of champagne and you thank him quietly before turning your attention back to the game floor. Your eyes have been on a man, sitting at the blackjack table for quite some time. He was in a Tom Ford suit, classically styled as he sips on his brandy. He hasn’t moved from the table in two hours and the chips in front of him indicate just how good at blackjack he is. Good at blackjack is not a sentence to be said. Unless, you’re counting. Your eyes narrow at him as he flicks at the corners of the cards leisurely. He has on sunglasses so you can’t tell how shifty his eyes are. You can’t ask him to take them off, it’s not against the casino policy to wear shades. But, something is off.

Then your eyes catch it. When he flicks the corner, the man opposite him does so as well. “Kirsoon.” You call to the man behind you and he steps forward as you lean back calmly. “I have counters at blackjack four.”

He stands up straighter before nodding his head and taking off. “Counters at black four.” He mumbles into his wrist before he descends the stairs. Your ankles cross in front of you before leaning your chin on your hand.

“Counting?” You hear from behind you, before arms wrap around your waist. You hum as lips drift over the back of your neck. “I missed you, baby.”

You smirk before turning your head to your husband. You kiss his plush lips gently before hearing commotion downstairs. You turn your attention back to the floor as Kirsoon grabs the chips and places them in a velvet bag. The Tom Ford clad man gets hauled up before being dragged towards the staircase and you click your teeth as innocent patrons jump nervously. “Idiots.” You mumble as your husband’s grip on you tightens.

His hands run over your sides before kissing down your exposed shoulder. “Come home, I miss you.”

You don’t want to go home, though. To go home would mean to have sex with him. Which would lead to another heartbreak when you don’t get pregnant for him. “Soon.” You mumble before kissing his cheek and squeezing out of his grip.

“Kitten?” He whispers confused, you turn your head to him before running your fingers through his hair.

“I have to go take care of this. See you at home?” You ask him gently, but your feet are already walking towards your grandiose office. You hear his hands slap his thighs but you don’t dare turn around to face him. You have guilt just like he does.

You hold out your two fingers before a cigarette is placed within them. Kirsoon lights your cigarette and you smile at the man now tied to the chair in front of you.

“Hi. Good evening.” You whisper to him as he looks around the office. He seems nervous. Looks nervous more like, as you watch sweat begin to bead on his forehead. “Take off your sunglasses.” You tell him before ashing your cigarette into the glass tray on your desk.

You look at his bound hands before clicking your teeth. “Nevermind, Kirsoon will do it for you.”

The tall, stocky man rounds the desk before taking them off of his face and looking at the lenses. He snorts before handing you the glasses and you hold them daintily between your fingers. The lenses were a shade of blue, something that could be seen in the bright lighting of your office compared to the dim lighting downstairs. “You have ink on your fingers?” You ask quietly to the man in the chair in front of you.

He stays silent before showing you his hand. It was free of any ink and you rolled your eyes before putting the glasses to your face. Through the blue lenses you can see faint light blue streaks on his fingers and you hum to him. You break the glasses before Kirsoon holds out his hand beside you. They get discarded into his palm before shrugging your shoulders. You watch as the beads of sweat begin to run down his temples.

“Very nervous for someone who was so confident at my tables not too long ago.” He grunts gently and you lean back in your chair before inhaling some of your cigarette. “You had a partner downstairs. I saw.”

His eyes shift to his lap and you tilt your head before crossing your legs. With an exhale you burn out the cigarette in the glass ashtray and fold your hands in your lap. “You must be very smart to count cards.”

“It’s not hard.” He murmurs and you nod to him as he turns his head to look back at two security as they stand at the double doors. “Where’d you learn to count?”

His eyes flicker back to yours and before clearing his throat. “Princeton. In America.”

“Very good.” You say in English before leaning forward. “I’ll be speaking with you in English then since you can handle it.”

His eyes squeeze shut before his form turns smaller under your piercing gaze. “How much money can you win? If you have all night to do so?”

He bites nervously at the skin on his lip before opening his mouth, “If I can do it and do it without getting caught I can turn over about one hundred thousand a night.”

You whistle, the sharp noise making him shiver before you nod to him. “And can you do this without getting caught?”

He sighs gently before straining his arms against the confines of the rope he is in. “You’re the only person who’s caught me so far. I’m usually pretty good at it.”

You tilt your head before looking him over, if he can do it without getting caught it would be very profitable to the Lions. “Interesting.” You whisper before leaning back.

“What’s your name?”

“People call me Shownu.” You click your teeth before sipping your champagne.

“Well, Shownu. You’ll be working for me from now on.” He cringes before sitting up straighter. “Look, ma’am. I don’t- don’t do this all the time. Just y’know, my brothers need some extra cash so-”

“So you’ll steal from me? That’s what this is, you’ll just take money from my casino?” He bows his head in defeat and you stand up drawing his attention.

“You will work for me and repay everything you have tried to steal, and then some. You’ve been to the Mad Hatters Casino?” He gives a stiff nod before you look at Kirsoon.

“You’ll be taking their money from now on. What’s your real name?”

“Hyunwoo.” He whispers as you round the desk.

“Hyunwoo.” You let the name roll off of your tongue before nodding. “Welcome to the Lions Den.”

He curses gently before you look over at Kirsoon, “Guess someone will be getting the money you so easily lost.”

You pat Hyunwoo on the shoulder before walking towards the doors. “Make sure he doesn’t run anywhere. We have a lot of money to collect.”

“Yes Madam!”

Arriving home, there was little to no noise besides crickets chirping as the sky became an onyx black littered with small dots of stars. You could only hope Jimin had gone to bed by now so that you didn’t have to beat around the bush as to why you didn’t come home with him. Kirsoon was very capable of dealing with things on his own and the both of you know this. You take off your heels before stepping up the left staircase silently. Your eyes straining to see anything in the darkness but it’s welcoming to have this time to yourself.

You step up to the third floor before sighing gently, eyes lingering on the three metal doors to your right before anything else. Feet padding gently against the wooden floor you stop before the kids room which used to be yours. With a gentle push the room comes into view illuminated by the Tinkerbell night light that is plugged into the wall. Hawon sleeps soundly, arms over her face in her small bed and you find the corners of your lips turning upwards as she rolls over in her sleep. Minseok sleeps in his crib, on his stomach as per usual and you sigh gently.

The love you have for your two children could never diminish, never compare to anything else. You find yourself so immensely grateful for the both of them and your lips press into a straight line as you lean on the door frame. You and Jimin work hard to make sure they know how loved they are amidst your busy schedules. And, although you try to hide what you do from them you know they’ll discover it as they become older. It’s only a matter of time.

Your hand comes to your mouth as you stare at the both of them. There’s something tugging at your heart in this early hours of the morning, something akin to being empty. Your heart was full and your womb was empty. Maybe it wasn’t in the cards to have another one, maybe God was punishing you both for killing men and doing the jobs you’ve created for yourselves. Maybe just maybe you were fated with two and no more.

You shut the door to the kids room before looking over at the intricate wooden doors of the master bedroom. The lion so diligently carved into the wood makes you sigh. You remember a time when you stayed in the kids room and would open the door to look at Jimin’s doors with curiosity and burning passion. There was a sort of mysticality and longing when you first got together, he was something new and different for you and it brought a fire to your veins like nothing you had ever felt before. There was passion and ardor still, but there was also guilt and worry. Two emotions that sit in the pit of your stomach, roiling your nerves to no end.

You can only look forward to getting the Im’s and giving them payback. It’s something that keeps you going, keeps you moving. Because if you stop, that’s when the guilt and worry really settles in.

You open the door to the bedroom quietly, eyes scanning the moonlit room before seeing your husband in bed. You breathe a sigh of relief as he lays beneath the covers, one arm under his head and the other on the spot where you lay. His lips are parted as he lays still and your heart feels lighter just looking at his handsome face. That’s something you always find yourself grateful for. How being with him can change your mood like whiplash. Your worry is never at the forefront of your brain when you're with him. But, when you're alone that's a different story.

Climbing into bed you feel him shift, eyes opening blearily before smirking. “Hi Kitten.”

You hum to him as you lay down on your back, eyes on the canopy above you. He shifts closer to you, wrapping his arm around your body before putting his head on your shoulder. “Missed you.”

You kiss his forehead before closing your eyes, fingertips traipsing over the skin of his arm. “Missed you too.”

“I love you.” He mumbles sleepily and you smirk before getting comfortable beneath him, “I love you, too.”

“Don’t fucking tell me you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do.” Jimin mumbles with a mouth full of food before pointing his chopsticks in your direction. You sip your screwdriver before putting the spoon up to Minseok’s lips. You watch as he eats greedily before smiling at him and wiping his chin with your thumb. “And, what do you think I’m going to do?”

Jimin swallows before picking up his cup of coffee, “You’re going to send this Hyunwoo to steal from the Ims casino.” You look over at him before smiling. He scoffs gently as you pick up another spoon full of the scrambled eggs for your son. “Kitten.” Jimin mumbles before putting his hand on your knee.

You look down at his hand before crossing your legs, effectively knocking it off of you. He sighs loudly as you kiss Minseok’s forehead. “What if he gets caught?”

“He won’t.” You say before handing Minseok to Mirae as she sits at the breakfast nook. “But, what if he does? Isn’t the Casino Night enough? Shouldn’t we be worrying about that then having him take their money from counting cards?”

You hum to him before standing, you finish your screwdriver before kissing his forehead. “I want it all.” You flick your finger underneath his chin and he puts his hands over his face with a groan.

“Mirae watch the kids.” Jimin mumbles before chasing you.

“Hey, hey. Baby.” Your husband whispers, hands running over your bare arms as he stops you in the sitting room. Your arms fold before you look up at your husband. “Can we talk?” He begs of you and you clear your throat before walking past him. You cannot stop, you will not let the guilty set in.

“I have to go count the safe at the casino before it opens for the day.” Jimin’s tongue licks at his lips before he’s following behind you. “Please, Y/N. Give me five minutes.”

You enter your bedroom before walking into the closet and your husband closes the door behind you both. Locking it shut and pressing his back to it so you can’t leave even if you wanted too. “Very mature Jimin.” You mumble before rifling through your clothes.

“Are you angry with me?” He asks quietly and you raise your eyebrow before grabbing a Chanel dress you had bought not too long ago. “Angry? For what?”

His hands rub together and he stares at the floor. “You didn’t come home with me last night… I waited for you for hours.”

Oh God. Here we go. “I told you, I had Hyunwoo and the card counting to deal with.”

He nods thoughtfully before his head lolls back against the clouded glass door. “Kirsoon can take care of that stuff, too y’know.” You know this.

You take off your nightgown before sitting on the bench in your walk in closet. “I wanted to take care of it myself.” You whisper, guilt starting to set into your bones.

“That’s it? That’s the only reason why you didn’t come home with me?” You hesitate before nodding to your husband. “It’s not because we aren’t pregnant yet?”

Your jaw flexes in annoyance before you’re standing up. “Get out of my way. I have to take a shower and go.” You mumble stepping towards the door. He makes no move and you scoff before putting your hands through your hair.

“Baby.” His voice is gentle and it only makes you more upset. “Get out of my way Jimin.”

His hands reach for you and you take a step back, “Move. Before I make you.” You whisper to him. He swallows thickly before his mocha irises meet yours. “I know it must be really painful for you to not be pregnant yet and I’m really so-”

“Stop!” You cut him off before shoving him out of the way and unlocking the door. “Y/N. I know it’s probably taking a toll on you and I just want to make sure you know how much I love you.” He says as he follows you towards the bathroom.

“Leave me alone, Jimin.” You mumble before kicking open the bathroom door. You go to slam the door in his face, but he’s too quick and strong for that. He shoves the door open before following you inside and you groan loudly.

“What?! What do you want from me?!” You yell to your husband as you throw your dress onto the marble bench of the bathroom.

His eyes show sorrow as he looks at you and it only makes your heart clench tighter as you turn away from him. “Leave me be.” You tell him before turning on the shower.

He walks towards you before hugging you tightly and you shove at his body as your cheeks become inflamed with embarrassment and guilt. “Get off!” You yell to him before he tightens his grip.

He buries his face into the crook of your neck and you sigh impatiently as the bathroom begins to fog up with steam from the hot shower. “I love you.” He murmurs into your skin.

“I love you, too.” You mutter out before he loosens his grip.

“I don’t want to fucking talk about it. I don’t want to fucking think about it. So just leave me the fuck alone.” You tell your husband, perfectly manicured finger pointing in his direction.

He picks up your dress before sitting down on the marble bench. His legs cross and he watches you enter the steaming hot shower. He can feel his eyes begin to sting as you put your forehead to the white tiled wall. “Kitten, I think you’re projecting your anger about not being pregnant towards the Ims.” He whispers as his hands run over the expensive fabric of your dress.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?! Didn’t I?!” You yell before sitting down in the shower. With a heavy heart he continues on, knowing you need to hear this. “I know they killed your parents. I know there’s anger there that boils you like it does to me. But, you’re becoming aggressive. Like Jeongguk, you’re going about it in an unhealthy way. And, I think the reason is because you’re feeling guilty and hurt that we haven’t gotten pregnant again yet. I know that-”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD! GET OUT!” You scream at the top of your lungs as water begins to berate your head as you lean forward. Jimin bites his bottom lip as you turn your face away from him.

“I love you so much, baby. Another baby will come. I know it.” You scoff before putting your hands to your face, your foot kicks at the porcelain tub. “We just have to keep trying.” He mumbles before rubbing his hands on his suit pants.

Jimin has never been one to just let things lie. It’s what you loved about him, if you’re being honest. He always takes time to talk to you about things that might be troubling you or him so you never have to tiptoe around each other. After the first fight you had when you were pregnant with Hawon, he never kept anything inside after that. You just wish for once he would leave you alone. “We have been trying. Trying and failing.” You find yourself saying, your voice cracks and his head hangs lower at the raw emotion behind it.

“I know, Kitten. I know it’s really hard for you right now. But, I’m your other half, you need to talk to me.” God, he’s so annoying and so right.

He takes off his clothes, folding them neatly onto the bench before climbing into the shower behind you. He sits down, legs sprawling out beside yours before hugging you tightly from behind. It’s then that a sob rips from you unexpectedly. Your arms fold over your knees before your face is pressed to them. Jimin kisses over your shoulder, letting the hot water soak his body as you begin to cry. “You’re the strongest woman I know. But, it’s okay to not be strong sometimes. That’s why I’m here. To be your other half for you to lean on.”

Your tears that fall blend in with the water as it runs down the porcelain tub and down the drain. You don’t cry, you don’t break down. You’re Park Y/N, the vixen. And yet…

Your husband sits with you for a while, just letting you cry and even that makes you feel worse. “I feel so empty.” You whimper to him and he looks up at the ceiling as his eyes fill with tears. Trembling lips caress your wet skin and he blinks out a few tears before nodding.

“We’ll get pregnant again. I know it. My heart bleeds for you, you know that. I see the way you look at yourself in the mirror these days when you think I’m not paying attention. I see it all, everything.” You bury your face into your legs at his admission.

“We’ll get through this just like anything we’ve done before. Alright?” You nod weakly as he runs a hand over your soaked head. “I love you, Kitten.”

A cigarette dangles from Hyunah’s lips as you lean back into your chair. “So what? I’m uninvited to Casino Night then?” She says to you before lighting her cigarette.

“Yes, you’re uninvited.” You tell your friend as you sit in her office. She scoffs before rubbing her hand over her forehead. “Why is that?”

“Because it’s not a party. It’s a death sentence and you are not invited to die.” You tell her before lighting your own cigarette. She frowns at you before folding her arms. “That’s when I have fun though. I love a good death sentence.”

You giggle gently before ashing your cigarette into the ashtray. “Why do you look like shit?” She questions as her butler places two glasses of wine on the desk.

You look down at your Chanel dress before raising an eyebrow. “I look like shit?” She hums as she pulls from her cigarette.

“You look all strung out and miserable. Not like a lioness at all, in fact.” You frown before pulling from your cigarette. “Hyunah. I’m really not in the mood to feel more shitty about myself today. Okay?”

She raises an eyebrow before leaning across the desk and wiping her thumb under your eye taking off some of your concealer. “Why’d you cry? Do I have to go kill that little boy?”

You roll your eyes before pulling away from her and grabbing your glass of red wine. “No. This isn’t about him. It’s about me.”

She tilts her head before clicking her teeth. “You want another baby?”

“Oh my God, can you not do that fucking shit for like three seconds?!” You whine to her before standing up. She watches you pace in front of the fireplace before looking at her butler. “Brew some tea, with the tea leaves still inside.”

“No!” You whine to her as her butler leaves. “Yes.”

“I don’t want that shit! I just want to forget about it!” She shakes her head before grabbing her glass of wine. “Tough shit, lioness. We’ll see what the spirits say.”

You stare at Hyunah as the tea pot is set in front of the both of you. She pours you a cup before holding it out. You fold your arms and she shakes her hand gently. “Drink the fucking tea and then swirl the sediment. You’ve done this before when you were pregnant with Minseok and everything I said was correct. Yes or no?”

You grunt gently before nodding, “Then drink the fucking tea.”

You grab the cup before sneering at your older friend. She sips her wine before smirking at you. Good old Lee Hyunah. You chug the tea, the bitterness making you wince before you swirl the cup and hand it back to her. She clears her throat before setting the cup onto the table.

“Let’s see.” She mumbles and you lean forward without a second thought. It’s not that you didn’t believe the tea leaves. It’s that you don’t want to hear bad news from her that you’re suddenly infertile or some shit.

“Interesting.” She whispers to herself and you find yourself rolling your eyes. “Hyunah!”

The leaves just look like blobs and dashes to you and you find your tongue roaming over your teeth afraid any had gotten stuck in the crevices. “I see many things here, lioness.”

“Like?” You mumble feeling nervous now.

She points to four circles in a row before looking up at you, “That’s a chain, symbolizes a string of events coming your way.”

“An anchor is also apparent, meaning things are going to become difficult to change. Maybe within the string of events.”

You tilt your head as her eyes widen, “There is something like a basket which usually symbolizes fertility and a new addition.”

Your breath catches in your throat before you’re leaning your elbows onto the desk for more information. “What else?” You whisper as you peer into the cup of sediment.

“A bouquet. Symbol of a happy marriage.” You begin to smile before she takes a sharp breath between her teeth before picking up the cup.

“Oh, lioness.” You can hear the concern in her voice and it makes you shrink in form. “What?” You mumble uneasily.

She points at a black smudge of leaves before swallowing thickly. “That’s a beast, it means misfortune. And right next to it is a skull.”

She looks up at you before closing her eyes, “The one next to it is a raven.”

She opens her eyes before exhaling long and slow, “It means you’re going to die.”

#the lions den #the bird cage sequel #bts story #mafia!au #bts mafia!au #mafia!jimin #mafia!jimin x reader #mafia!jimin x you #bts angst #bts smut #bts series #btscreatorscorner

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sanktnikolais · 3 years

Text

Godsent

A/N: i’m back to post another content kahsfkljas this is the beach scene Zoya vaguely remembered back in my mythology au

Have a bit of fluff after than long angsty fic ;-;

Word count: 4244

The sight of his temple only brought another wave of headache to Zoya. It was much grander than what she had thought his supporters capable of, and she was starting to regret allowing it to be built. She couldn’t believe she let herself get carried away with a simple act of smiling.

Damn him and that smile of his, she thought in annoyance as she made her way to the path leading towards the side of the shrine.

It was warm tonight, and if it had been some other time when it was colder than she would have liked, she was sure she wouldn't have come here. She was still trying to understand why she agreed to go see him at this time.

�� His message had come abruptly in the fountain of her foyer just as she was leaving. The water had exploded from within, almost drenching her had she not stepped back immediately. And when she checked what the disturbance was, the words appeared in sand on the surface.

Come meet me at my temple, it said.

Not a request, nor a friendly invitation.

Zoya didn’t know whether to laugh or get insulted. Was he that bossy just because he was one of the higher gods? He must have forgotten who put him in his place when he came barging in her temple to challenge her.

Maybe she shouldn't have agreed to the construction of his temple, so he wouldn't have another reason to become more conceited than he already was.

Its location was on a cliff directly by the sea, a place where he obviously preferred the shrine to be built. If there was something that he thought highly of other than himself, it was the seas.

The seas can help us find peace, he always said, and Zoya was tired of hearing his voice in her head all the time. The non-stop rain he sent to her temple was already bad enough to irk her. But actually hearing him in her mind? Disastrous. It was a surprise that she had been able to stand being around him for five years without them having each other by their throats.

She finally rounded the corner of the shrine leading to the entrance, and that was where she spotted him gazing up at his temple.

Whatever flippant thoughts she had about him disappeared when she saw how content he looked. The lit torches on the pillars lit up his face, bathing him in a golden glow of the same color of his hair under the sun. For a moment, he didn’t look like the god of the seas she knew—arrogant, cruel, and overly confident. Instead, he looked like someone proud of something he’d done for himself, not because he was forced to do it.

An amused smile twitched on her lips. Even though he didn’t become the city patron, he was still happy enough to have something dedicated to him. Perhaps she should give him that small victory.

He must have felt her stare at him because he turned to her in a blink, and she barely had the time to hide herself from staring openly at him.

Zoya immediately returned to her stoic appearance, mustering a deadpan look on her face. She wouldn’t let him have the chance to grin at her; it had a strange effect on her that was unbecoming for the goddess of wisdom. “What do you want, Nikolai?”

Nikolai feigned a hurtful expression. “In a sour mood tonight, aren’t we, Minerva?”

“Who wouldn’t be if they were summoned in the middle of the night?” she said through gritted teeth. The urge to punch him in the face was strong, but she held back. “And it’s Zoya for you, Your Idiocy. We are not on Olympus.”

“As you wish, Minnie,” he said.

She huffed in annoyance and stared at him incredulously. This was one of the times that she preferred him being the arrogant rival he once was, as she had enough reason to beat him up where he stood. It was like the god of the seas stole another’s persona and adapted to it.

But the ease in his demeanor made her wonder if this person in front of her was really who he was.

“Are you done tormenting me? If so, then I am leaving,” Zoya said, already turning to the direction she came from.

Nikolai held out an arm. “No, wait,” he said, a pleading look evident on his face. He looked like a child whose candy was snatched away from their hand. “It’s been a long time since our dispute in this city but you have not come to see my temple yet.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I do not need to see it.”

“But I want you to,” he almost whined, and her thoughts of him possibly being a child came back to mind. He gestured a hand to the temple. “Well, what do you think?”

Realizing that she didn’t have any much of a choice other than to leave, Zoya walked over to where he was standing to have a better look at the shrine, and she took in its appearance. The entrance must be at least fifty feet high, its roof supported by three huge pillars on each side. She wasn’t sure how long it extended at the back, but she could guess the main foyer could fit at least a thousand people.

And even without going inside, a huge statue of him by the other end of the hall could be seen.

It looked impressive for only a short time of having it built, she would give him that, but otherwise still plain.

“It could be better,” Zoya said before turning to him. “But alas, it’s only like any other temple around the city.”

If Nikolai was insulted, he didn’t show it. He grinned, the one that reached his eyes and made them bright. His arms were spread wide. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

She merely raised an eyebrow at him. He really was something else. “Mine is definitely better,” she countered with a sneer. “And besides, yours would not even be there if I hadn’t allowed it.”

“Guess I owe you my reputation, then?”

“Obviously, so stop being a show off.”

Then he winked, and she didn’t like the way it made her heart skip a beat. What had he done to her? “Only for you, dear.” His grin became wider. “Actually, it’s not even the best part.”

Zoya stepped back, holding a finger up. “I think that is enough for tonight, I—”

But Nikolai was already grabbing at her wrist. “Let me show you,” he said, and then he was dragging her along with him down the path. His hand was warm against her skin, the touch sending an unexpected thrill in her chest. He would literally be the end of her.

She had to break into a jog just to match up with his excited strides, and she was just too exhausted to berate him to slow down. After a few more moments of keeping up with him, they finally got to the edge of the cliff.

There wasn’t much light, but the full moon almost directly in front of them gave enough brightness for them to see the surging waves across the sea. The waters looked almost white against the moonlight, and if it was some time earlier in the day, Zoya knew it would be breathtaking.

Somehow, she quite understood why Nikolai would always say that his favorite line of ‘the seas can help us find peace’. There was indeed something calming just by watching the tides’ steady movement, as if you knew that it would always stay in the same current and end up in the same shoreline.

“It’s not much at this time of the day,” he said, breaking the long silence between them. “I’d say it’s better during sunrise and sunset. But it’s still quite the view.”

Zoya hummed, gaze remaining focused on the sea. For some reason, she couldn’t look away. His love for the seas was probably starting to rub off on her. “It is a nice view,” she admitted, and she could practically see him grinning in her head.

A beat, and then he said, “It’s not the best one, though.”

She frowned. “What’s better than this?” she asked, turning her head to look at him.

And he was looking back at her, his smile soft and eyes gentle. She furrowed her eyebrows, and it took her another few seconds to realize what he meant. All her thoughts seemed to stop altogether, heat rising to her cheeks. She averted her eyes and looked down, only to see their hands clasped tightly together.

Her eyes widened. When did that happen?

Zoya quickly let go of his hand as if she were burned and stepped away, making Nikolai laugh lightly. She didn’t know whether to run off or throw him off the cliff, so she glared at him instead. But there was definitely no denying the erratic beating of her heart.

Damn him for making her feel things she shouldn’t have.

And yet he only smiled back, even when she was expecting him to cower or challenge her glare with his own. “You will definitely be the death of me, Zoya,” he said, and she tried to ignore the way her name sounded from his lips.

I could say the same to you, she wanted to say. But it would be blatantly admitting that he had that much effect on her, in which, based on the still erratic beat of her heart as she looked back at him, was actually true.

She covered up her awkwardness with a huff. "Don't be dramatic, you can't die."

Nikolai laughed again. Was everything funny to him now? "Ever the realist, aren't we?"

"It is who I am, you urchin."

"I think that's the most adorable thing you've called me."

"Would you have preferred 'idiot'?"

He shook his head, the grin never leaving his lips. "I would love any name as long as it is from you."

Zoya's heart did another weird flip. She was so close to bolting off or punching him. Or both. "Are we finally done here?" she said. If she spent another few minutes with him and his flowery words, she might do something that she would regret later. "Because I am needed elsewhere."

It wasn't technically true, but she knew she would immediately go to Genya after this. The goddess of love surely had something to say about this night rendezvous. Or whatever this was.

"Not yet," Nikolai said, grinning brightly. "There is still one last thing I would like to show you."

"How many 'best' things are left for you to show me?" She huffed incredulously. "You consider all these the best, anyway."

"A good point, but this is the last one, I swear."

Thunder rumbled in the sky, making him wince. Zoya had to stifle a laugh at his expression.

"Should have said 'promise' instead," she said in amusement. "You aren't allowed to pull any more antics now."

Nikolai chuckled. "I wouldn't dream of it." He paused, looking down at the cliff, before turning back to her with an open look. Her breath hitched in expectation. "Do you trust me?"

Did she? After centuries of rivalry, had she come to trust him, even after only a short time of finally seeing him past his tough exterior? She had always been so sure of herself, but why was she having doubts now?

I shouldn't, but somehow, I do. And yet Zoya grimaced and said, "No."

She was expecting him to look hurt, but he actually laughed and gave her a knowing look. "That is quite a relief. I wouldn't want to disappoint you when I lose control over this."

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you—"

But her sentence ended in a squeal when Nikolai put an arm around her waist and abruptly jumped off the cliff.

Inappropriate words she wanted to scream at him came in her mind all at once, the rush of air sounding too loud in her ears. She clutched onto his neck and closed her eyes in panic. It was ironic, as they couldn’t technically die, but she hadn’t anticipated being hauled off the edge. She was so going to murder him later.

Zoya waited for the coldness of the water to hit them, but it never did.

They were suddenly on something, the chill only enclosing around their legs, and she finally opened her eyes to look down.

A huge waterspout steadily moved around, keeping them afloat at least a hundred feet above the sea.

She let out a relieved breath. At least they weren’t plummeting down the waters anymore. The beating of her heart slowed down, and she huffed as she glared at a laughing Nikolai in front of her. The sight of him looking happy was definitely not the reason why her heartbeat picked up again.

“I ought to strike you down where you stand,” Zoya growled. It would’ve been much more menacing if she wasn’t holding her arms around his neck. “Now I remember every reason why I used to hate you.”

His laughter subsided until all that’s left on his face was a soft smile. “At least I know you don’t hate me now,” he said. Then he winked. “Don’t worry, if you ever get off balanced, I won’t let you fall alone.”

“If you think your punchlines are going to make me change my mind from beating you up, then you have to keep on dreaming.”

“Perhaps this would change your mind?”

Zoya raised an eyebrow, and slowly, Nikolai willed the water forward. The specks of light caught her eyes even before she could fully look at them. It came from the torches lined up in the sand by the cliff walls, illuminating the small beach hidden in between them.

“No need to look awed, my wise one. It’s unbecoming of you,” he said as he lowered them down to the sand.

She kicked him in the shin the second her feet landed on soil. “I am still enraged, Nikolai,” she said, but there was no edge in her tone.

Nikolai chuckled. “Go on, you can tell me how much you adore me.”

“You conceited, feeble urchin—” Zoya tried to grab at his shirt but he had already backed away, laughing again.

He stopped at least several feet away, spreading his arms. “So, what do you think?”

She raised an eyebrow and looked around. “Horrible?”

“You wound me,” he said dramatically, putting a hand to his chest. “Well, I’d admit that it is not as flawless as I would have liked it. I only made this place a few hours ago.”

He made this place? “What for?” she asked, a frown blooming on her face.

Nikolai shrugged. “A hiding place,” he answered simply, looking up in the night sky. The moonlight captured the lines of his face, bathing him in a glow that made him look less the terrifying god of the seas than a cheerful and carefree person who had been hiding behind that divine identity all along. His next words were quiet, almost sad. “Somewhere I could be comfortable.”

Zoya considered him for a moment, something in her chest not feeling right. It wasn’t as if he needed her to show him his place. What was even his reason for asking her to come in the first place? Certainly he had more people to talk with or bring here other than her.

So why her?

He turned to her again, the somber expression disappearing in a blink and the mischievous look returning. It was appalling how fast he could change the masks he wore. Who was the real him?

“Worry not, dear wise one, you are allowed to come here,” Nikolai said with a grin. “You’re always welcome here.”

Zoya raised an eyebrow. “I am honored,” she replied, mocking a curtsy. “But I’m afraid there’s no way down other than jumping off that cliff and swimming here.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “I could easily make a path for you.”

“Confident, aren’t we?”

“Do you doubt me?”

She chuckled darkly. “All the time.”

This made Nikolai silent, a shadow passing across his face. Something twinged in Zoya’s chest. She wasn’t supposed to feel bad. It was what she always did—facing all things head on and being straightforward. Unlike him, she didn’t make things much complicated by going around with her words.

Ever the realist, aren’t we? His words from earlier echoed in her mind. She knew he meant it as a joke, and yet it was really who she was. She approached everything with caution and vigilance, calculated all the variables and outcomes. She liked the odds leaning to her favor; it was how she stayed at the top of her game.

But when it came to him, all went astray. Nikolai was her biggest uncertainty.

Zoya waited for his rage, for him to turn into his true form and challenge her to a duel, just like she did the night before their standoff in the city. If she were honest, she preferred that possibility. Because she wouldn’t have to question herself for feeling something for the god of the seas after several years of being in peace with him. They had three centuries of bad blood.

What were those years of serenity compared to the long time of hatred and rivalry? It was only plausible.

But when Nikolai smiled ruefully instead of lashing out like she had wanted him to, she had never been so ashamed of herself for neglecting this possibility.

“Fair point,” he said with a sigh. He gazed up at the stars again, eyes soft, and a small smile twitched on his lips as if he remembered something fond. “If you look back, we really did fight for quite a long time.”

Zoya opened her mouth to say something, only to close it again when she had none. She frowned, more to herself than being unable to think of a reply. She had always been sure of herself.

She was still lamenting in her thoughts that she hadn’t expected his next words to her. “Dance with me,” he said, holding his hand out.

Her thoughts stopped altogether, and she looked at him in bewilderment. What?

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. “Has the goddess of wisdom lost her ability to speak entirely?”

A lot of thoughts crashed into her mind, but when she found her voice after a while, she said, “There’s not even a music.”

He stared at her for a second. Then he laughed, rich and deep, and Zoya knew to herself that she would like to hear it more often. “I’ve got it covered, dear,” he said, approaching her and taking her hand. She didn’t make a move to stop him, his skin feeling warm against hers. “Just don’t step on my feet.”

Whatever embarrassment she had was replaced by her usual annoyance for him. “Ever the infuriating one, aren’t you?”

“Only for you, dear.” He winked, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

Zoya sucked in a breath, not used to having someone near her, but she reluctantly put her arms around his neck. He smelled of the seas and something like home. She found herself leaning towards him more. She rested her chin on his shoulder as Nikolai began swaying along with the tune he was humming.

In that quiet moment of peace, nothing but the soft sound of the lapping waves and his humming could be heard. Everything was perfect, almost too perfect, until his voice went off key.

“Where did you learn that?” Zoya asked, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

Nikolai furrowed his eyebrows like he was trying to remember. “From the townspeople,” he said, sounding a bit pleased with himself. “Is it good?”

She scoffed. “Atrocious.”

“Just as I intended.”

“Can’t you just send a pod of mermaids to serenade us?”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, and then asked, “Do you want me to?”

Zoya blinked back in surprise. “You are really willing to do anything, aren’t you?”

“I could even stop the tides for you,” he said like it would be the easiest thing in the world to do. But considering his nature, maybe it was.

“Why would you?”

“Because frankly, you seem to doubt my powers.” He paused, sighing. His next words came out in a whisper. “But I hope you do not doubt me.”

She was taken aback with the sudden change in his tone, and as well as the flash of hurt in his eyes. And yet along the lines of the pang in her chest came a spark of irritation as well. It wasn’t like he had done anything bad to her in the past several years. But considering their history, she had every right to doubt him, and the other way around.

They were already past their dark years, but there was no denying that hatred towards each other was what drove them forward once.

“What is this really about, Nikolai?” Zoya asked the question that had been bothering her since she agreed to come here even when she had all the reasons not to. “Why the sudden message in the middle of the night? Why did you want me here?”

Nikolai was silent, their movements stopping as she waited for his answer. There was a conflicted look in his eyes that made it seem that he was going to war with his thoughts, but after a moment, he replied, “Because I want to be with you.”

His answer had her floored, and she was left to reel with the intensity of the sudden shiver that bloomed in her body. Her heart felt like it was about to leap out from her chest.

“I want to be with you,” he continued. “Have been wanting to for years now. I have no ill intentions, I swear to you, we’re already way past that. I just want you to see through the worst part of me that you had known for centuries. I want to prove to you that I am not that person anymore.”

He smiled ruefully. “I know it’s strange. After being your rival for a long time, I didn’t anticipate feeling something for you that wasn’t hatred or insecurity. So when those emotions turned to calmness and warmth, I knew it was over.” He paused, huffing a laugh. “I never thought I would fall for anyone. And yet I did.”

Zoya was still overwhelmed with everything that she just heard. She was sure that she had been gawking at him with mouth agape the whole time, and if it was some other moment, she would be conscious of how she looked in front of anyone.

She blinked. “Nikolai, I—” When she found that she had no further replies formed in her mind, she shook her head. “I—I don't know what to say.” And she did. She hadn’t seen all of this coming.

Nikolai reached a hand up to her face, his thumb caressing her cheek softly. “You don’t have to say anything, dear,” he said. “All I ask for is a chance. Let me be with you. Let me be your strength when you feel like you have nothing. Let me love you.”

Her eyes stung, and Zoya felt the walls around her heart coming up again. Love was irrational; she had witnessed mortals go mad because of it. More often than not, it was love that was the main reason for their own doom. And yet, they still continued to seek it. That’s what she couldn’t explain no matter how she looked at it.

But thinking back on the past several years they were together, she had developed a soft spot for him, even when he was often annoying. He was a ray of light and smiles for her, especially during her brooding times when her people demanded too much of her presence.

And she would be lying if she said that she didn’t feel anything for him.

Maybe she could get hurt by letting this emotion take over. Maybe she could be happy with him, knowing that he was willing to be with someone as stubborn and tenacious as her.

It was all a mess of maybes, but looking at him now, with his heart on his sleeve, Zoya realized that it was worth the risk.

He was worth the risk.

With a small smile, her hand that was behind his neck came up to his cheek. This was one of the rare times that he was at loss for words, but she found that she didn’t mind one bit. She acted upon impulse instead, standing on her toes and pressing a chaste kiss to his lip as if to seal a promise. It was only brief, a ghost of a breath, but it was enough to send warmth throughout her body.

Nikolai was looking at her with half-lidded eyes as she pulled away. There was a lazy smile playing on his lips, and when he dove in to kiss her deeper this time, Zoya finally let herself fall.

Perhaps they could have more stolen moments like these in the near future, where it was only the two of them in their own small world.

***

And they did.

#zoyalai #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #king of scars #more gods and goddesses au KLHASFLKJAD #bc im trash what's new #technically this is the beach scene in the vague memory in my prev fic #i owe y'all some fluff after that angsty one #and also bc i need it #my writing #i also have another content for the role swap au #will post soon HEHEHE #have this for now

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drwcn · 4 years

Note

I can’t wait for more of your discordance au, I’m a sucker for angsty wangxian! I’m actually really curious about what’s going on with Lan Xichen the whole time he’s gone. Is he recovering for all that time or is there some political plot he needs to take care of? I saw that courtesan Meng Yao tag too which makes me even more intrigued 👀👀👀

Awww you guys >:) Thank you so much for the encouragement.

Unfortunately, Xichen and Huaisang are not a pair. The hidden agenda of this fic is xiyao (lol sorrah), and I know people tend to feel either YAY or NAY about xiyao so I’ve totally separated the wangixan and xiyao part. You can read one without the other and it wouldn’t make much of a difference at all. At best Meng Yao is mentioned in end of the later wangxian parts once or twice.

I love Xiyao because I think it’s full of possibilities. Obviously canon!xiyao is tragic and problematic af, but this is an au, so... I do ...what I...want? Meng Yao in this au is his own worst nightmare - a courtesan, and Zewu-jun is the handsome polite gentlemanly amnesiac he saves.

Below cut are more reasons why Lan Qiren longs for the sweet release of an early qi deviation (arc synopsis of lan xichen & meng yao’s half of the story).

Lan Xichen’s Arc: where politics turned deadly.

Well, just because Wen Ruohan isn’t a thing doesn’t meant the Yin Irons aren’t a thing. Is there political bullshit waiting to happen? Absolutely. Except our protagonists are proactive this time.

For months, both Qinghe and Gusu have been getting reports of strange sightings along their Lanling borders. NMJ and LXC have been investigating, and they suspect that JGS may have had something to do with it. Prior to Lan Xichen’s disappearance, he was getting close to finding out the truth.

What happened was this:

Xue Yang (who will exist solely in other people’s narration) had killed the Changs and taken a piece of the Yin Iron. Upon capture, XXC and SL (both alive and well and doing their own thing) delivered him to the Chief Cultivator, thinking justice has been served. (Lol. no.). Once JGS got his hands on one of those, he began to plan world domination bad things with it and shit started acting fucky right away, eliciting the suspicion and subsequent investigations of the Lans and Nies.

Jin Guangshan does wonder how his secrets are being leaked, but he doesn’t get to find out until the end.

Lan Xichen, on his part, is fairly sure of what’s been causing the appearances of these so called “fierce corpses”. He knows about Lan Yi’s barrier in the Cold Cave, and suspects someone has gotten their hands on a piece of the Yin Iron. Both he and Nie Mingjue suspect Jin Guangshan, and have been quietly collecting proof.

Jin Guangshan, not about to be defeated so easily, sets up a trap and ambushes Lan Xichen during one of his investigations. LXC was in “plain clothes” as part of the investigation, because it’s dumb to go around investigating dressed as the Sect Leader of Gusu Lan, but during the ambush, Lan Xichen loses Liebing and Shuoyue in the process. The only thing he has on him is Shuoyue’s sheath when he is found by Meng Yao.

When Lan Xichen wakes up, he doesn’t remember anything or who he is. He sees a pretty young man who introduces himself as Lianfang. Lan Xichen was wearing blue when he was found, so “Liangfang” calls hims A-Lan.

Meng Yao’s tragic back story that’s actually tragic:

The bullshit - er, the story - as always, starts with Meng Yao getting kicked down the steps at Jinlintai by his Ho™ of a dad Jin Guangshan. In this universe, Jin Guangshan isn’t just a rich powerful Sect Leader, but also the Chief Cultivator. If anything, he has more reason than ever to make sure Meng Yao isn’t around to besmirch his good name (not that he has any good name to bismirch).

Claiming Meng Yao to be a liar, Jin Guangshan ordered his goons to have Meng Yao “taken care of”, but before that could happen, Madam Jin had come out to see what was the commotion. This was Zixuan’s birthday celebration after all, everything had to be perfect.

What she saw certainly enraged her, but her husband was about to kill a boy, possibly his own son, spill blood on their son’s day of birth celebration. Such cosmic bad karma she couldn’t possibly accept. “You don’t have to kill him, you absolute buffoon, just make sure he never comes back here!”

She meant buy his silence with money but Jin Guangshan had a more permanent solution.

Before the day’s out, Meng Yao was sold to a brothel, and was told “that’s where you belong”. Once, perhaps, he had dreamed about gaining the love of his father, but no longer. Now he simply wants his father ruined and dismembered.

But first he has to live.

The madam of the brothel had a keen eye for “good merchandise”, and one good look at young Meng Yao with those big eyes, delicate frame and dimples and she knew she could make big bucks off of him.

(And before anyone asks how old MY is here, the answer is: young. One of the many reasons why I would personally like to volunteer to stab JGS until it looks like he’s been cursed with the Thousand Holes Curse.)

The first couple of years were decidedly grim for MY. He was kept away from customers (mercifully), but he was a brutally trained in the art of dance and music. They kept him fed enough to dance but not too much to “ruin his figure”. His instructors quickly found that the youth was a quick study and got up no matter how many times he was trampled on (literally and metaphorically). It was no secret that life was gruesome, but Meng Yao survived. Meng Yao made his debut. Meng Yao became famous.

The establishment where he made his debut renamed him Lianfang - to collect/gather fragrance - and so from then on, he became Lianfang-gongzi. Soon, his art (and other stuff) caught the eye of an obliging patron who purchased him from the madam.

The patron, by all accounts, was a brute of man who had more appreciation for the liquor in his cup than the arts, but he was a cultivator, wealthy enough, connected to many other cultivator gentry familiues, and most importantly, led a subsidiary clan of the Chief Cultivator. As his prized courtesan and dancer, Meng Yao served at his whim, entertained at his parties and made happy his friends, all of whom were practicing cultivators or at the very least connected to the cultivation realm.

Our evil gremlin would not be our evil gremlin if he didn’t make the best of every situation. Meng Yao quickly discovered that not only was he particularly talented at getting people to divulge information to him, but that men were significantly uninhibited after sex and alcohol. Armed with a sweet face, an eidetic memory, and a hate inside him that longed to see Jin Guangshan severed limp by limp, he began his revenge plot.

(Here, I took inspiration from Nirvana in Fire’s character Princess Xuanji of the fallen Hua kingdom who was sold into servitude but established Hong’xiu’zhao, a spy network of girls/women who either worked as courtesans or secondary spouses of noblemen. Her goal was to create chaos and dissension within the royal court and government, like mites eating away at a large tree from within.)

Meng Yao amassed an enormous amount of intels on gentry families and evidences of the many underhanded conducts of the Chief Cultivator himself. He did this through his own work and through the other women working in his network, all of whom have been wrongfully aggrieved in some way. He promised them that one day he would help them to freedom.

For five years he’s been collecting secrets of gentry families, and had been stirring discord for three, weakening their cohesiveness, and using their growing animosity to weaken Jin Guangshan’s control on his subordinates. Naturally, Meng Yao heard about Xue Yang and the Yin Iron. It was also him who had been drawing attention to it for the other major sects.

Meng Yao doesn’t know Lan Xichen is the Sect Master of Gusu Lan, but he has no interest in hurting a man from nowhere. “You can stay here with me until you are better. After that, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to be on your way.”

Physically Lan Xichen recovered quickly, but when it was clear his memories wouldn’t be coming back, Meng Yao allowed him to stay.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Meng Yao has been Lianfang, been the famed courtesan, for longer than he cares to remember. He’s been had, used, and passed around by so many men that their faces are just blurried sillouettes in his memory. And yet, he’s never felt for a moment that he belonged to any of them, not even his patron, who possessed his contract and could resell him back to a lesser establishment and ruin him in a heartbeat.

But when A-Lan held him in his eyes, warm and dark like a summer’s night, without judgement or expectations, only gentle sweetness and a fond regard, Meng Yao could almost pretend he was just A-Yao, the name whispered reverently by those soft lips. The hand that held his moved to stroke his cheek, almost shy, and Meng Yao realized with a fearful pang that if this man from nowhere with nothing were to ask, Meng Yao could most definitely become his.

The thought scared him more than he was willing to admit.

The message delivered by the pigeon was clear. Meng Yao crumbled the slip of paper in his hand, then set it aflame in the candlelight.

The man who’s been living with him for the past four months, who he knew as A-Lan, who he trusted enough to take to bed, was the Sect Master of Gusu Lan: Lan Huan, Lan Xichen.

Zewu-jun.

Everyone, even a non-cultivator such as himself, has heard of Gusu’s Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen’s young widower, left alone after not even six months of marriage.

But if even he wasn’t married, Lan Xichen could never accept him as he was, no matter now much his personal desire wanted him.

His hands shook. He balled them into fists.

Meng Yao should’ve known... he should’ve known it was too good to be true.

No matter, he told himself. This too, is an opportunity, perhaps the only one I will ever have. I will use it to destroy Jin Guangshan once and for all.

Lan Xichen made his way to the window, and gazed out into the courtyard where A-Yao was reading under the willow tree.

You should go home, a voice inside him said. Go home to relief Wangji of his burden, to release Wuxian from his mourning. Go back to the seat of Sect Master and the responsibilities waiting for you.

One more day, another voice fought back. Just one more day.

He doesn’t leave for another month.

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rosegoldannie · 4 years

Text

Living a lie

A Rowaelin Angsty/fluffy Hollywood!Au fic with a happy ending.

Also I had an idea for a quarantine TOG or ACOTAR fic. Comment which couple I should write it about! Also on a side note, my birthday was a few days ago, and now I’m 16!

Masterlist

They were living a lie.

In public, they were loving, and affectionate, and the couple that absolutely everyone wanted to be. They would walk down the street, Rowan’s hand around her waist, and smile for the cameras. She would smile, kiss him, and gush over her husband, how he was everything she could ever want. How their life was a blissful paradise.

Home was a nightmare. A neverending nightmare. They fought constantly, never able to go more than a few hours, maybe a few days if they really, really tried, without some form of an argument. And that was exactly where Aelin found herself yet again, fighting back tears, on her birthday no less. Reaching for her favorite eyeshadow, she contemplated how she, a twenty-three year old, found herself near-sobbing at the thought of attending her first major movie premier. Near sobbing, and not with joy.

Her emerald gown was set across her bed. Yes, her bed. Recently, they had been fighting so much that she couldn’t stand sleeping in the same room as her husband, but had been totally unwilling to stay with a friend. Something about the finality of that set her stomach turning. As if it were announcing to the world - because one way or another, if she spent the night at a friend’s, the whole world would know - that their marriage was over.

As she finished up her makeup, a single tear slipped out, which she quickly swept away, not having the patience to touch up the ever so slightly smudged makeup. She stood, making her way over to the bed, where that damn dress lay waiting . The gown whispered cooly against her arms, sliding smoothly over her skin. She sighed, almost wanting to forgo the entire event, and spend the night with her dog, a pint of ice cream, and maybe, just maybe, her husband.

There was a slight knock, then- “Can I come in?”

Aelin sighed through her nose, some strange sense of dread settling further in her gut, and turning the roasted salmon she’d had for lunch to lead. “Yeah.”

Her husband slipped through the doorway, and her jaw nearly dropped. Those pine eyes which were almost always so very cold were warm,and gentle, and brimming with love. He was in sweats, and clutching a bouquet of sunflowers, a box of chocolate, and a small, velvet box. “Happy birthday, Ace.” He murmured. On any other day, Aelin would have sobbed, and thrown herself into his arms absolutely showering him with kisses and sweet murmurs, because by the gods, Rowan Ellys Whitethorn, who rarely remembered what day of the week it was, let alone the date, had remembered her birthday, and all of her favorite things. But this wasn’t any other day. And she didn’t jump into his arms.

“What the hell are you wearing?” She rasped through the tightness in her throat.

Rowan blinked, the warmth in those green eyes cooling ever so slightly, as mild panic filled them. “What? Were we going out tonight?”

A sense of panic washed over her. “Yes! My premier? We have to leave in twenty minutes!” Some small part of her roared that this was why they fought: He didn’t listen to her. Didn’t hear her. She had been raving about how excited she was for this for weeks. He knew how much this night meant to her, and yet… he still forgot.

His face visibly fell as he placed the gifts on her bedside table, and slipped from the room. All the while murmuring that he would be ready to go soon. She nodded, telling herself that she trusted him enough to pick out his own suit, which was most definitely not a way of avoiding having to see his tattoo, and everything it promised and implied. Even though she couldn’t avoid it totally, as it weaved and snaked its way up the side of his face. But still. The most painful part was hidden under his clothes. For her eyes only, he had murmured in her ears years prior, whilst they were intertwined between the sheets and so irrevocably in love. Oh, where had the passion gone? The heat? The love?

Twenty minutes later, they were in the throes of yet another screaming match.

“If you had told me before hand, maybe-”

“Don’t pull that shit with me, Rowan. You have all your shit organized. There’s no way you could fuck up this badly on accident.”

“And? Did you forget I’m colorblind?” She flinched, and he paused for a moment before continuing. “Did you forget because it isn’t something in your phone?” Again, she flinched. Because he was right; she had forgotten that he was colorblind and she was an awful person for it.

Regardless, those gold-ringed Ashryver eyes hardened. “There is absolutely no way this is an accident.” She held his gaze as she gestured to his black shirt, green tie and jacket, and black pants. While he’d definitely had worse red-carpet outfits, she was still upset. Partly because this was her first premier in which she was the sole star, and partly because of a word that had been whipping around in her mind for days.

“Alright, fine! I was trying to match your dress but I ran out of clean clothes.” He snapped. Something small cracked in his voice, and there was such desperation that she had to clench her eyes shut.

When she finally opened her eyes, she forged ahead and prayed. “Ro, we have to talk about it. This isn’t fair to either of us.” Rowan inhaled, and she waited for the barrage of pleas and promises, but they never came. He only sighed, clenched his jaw, and nodded. And something within her cracked, something ancient and primordial which had long lain dormant within her, roaring that he couldn’t just give up.

But they weren’t what everyone thought.

The entire world thought they were perfect.

The entirety of their families thought they were blissfully in love. Even Aedion.

But they were miserable.

She - truly - didn’t know who said it, only that during one of their fights a week prior, someone had screamed at the other that if things were truly so awful, then they should file for divorce. And for the last week, it had been the only thing on her mind. She was young, young enough to find love again-

Aelin damn near gagged at the thought, unable to even look at her husband for several long moments, even as a metallic, revolting taste remained in her mouth for a long while. “Are you happy? Like this?”

The driver of their limousine called back that they would be arriving soon, and they chorsed back their thanks.

He at last semi-met her gaze. “Am I happy?” He repeated, as if not totally processing the words. “I’m not unhappy.” He murmured, eyes trailing over her, over the shoulders exposed by her gown, to her lips painted a dark red, to her jewelry. His pine-green eyes trailed down to her hand, and the blood drained from his face. “Your ring….”

Confusion lanced through her, until she followed his gaze. To her empty ring finger, a band of pale skin where that silver and emerald wedding band always sat. To where she had forgotten to put it back on after her shower. Then the panic set in, a thousand different scenarios playing out in her mind. What actually occurred was so, so much worse.

Somehow, he paled even more, then clenched his eyes shut. A single tear slid down his cheek, which her fingers itched to wipe away, as their limousine pulled to a stop in front of a mob of flashing cameras and shouting reporters. Silently, she begged him to yell or scream, or beg her for another chance. Anything at all, any show of emotion. All he did was let out a soft, “Oh.”

Her panic rose, as she internally begged him to meet her eyes. “Ro, please.” She pleaded, her small voice cracking on the last word.

Those eyes snapped open, and her heart clenched at how utterly unable to read the boundless emotions swimming in them she was. “No.” He murmured, gently taking her hand, and pushing open the door. “We’ll talk about this at home. Tonight is your night.”

And so their masks slipped into place, even as her chest tightened to the point of pain. Together, they weaved through the crowds towards the red carpet. Arm in arm, ever the perfect couple. They even paused to pose for the paparazzi, Rowan wrapping an arm around her waist, and pressing a seemingly sweet kiss to her forehead. But she felt it for what it was: a goodbye, and an apology. Her heart began to crack.

Then they were pulled apart, and it could have been her imagination, but it seemed as if he seemed eager to be away from her. Nevertheless, she was whisked away by a reporter, who was shoving a microphone in her face, and a camera flashed brightly behind him. “Mrs. Whitethorn, how does it feel to be the star of your own movie?”

“Amazing,” She answered robotically, “it feels like a dream.”

“And are there any mini-Whitethorns on their way to us?” He teased, shoving that damn microphone further into her face.

And suddenly she was nineteen again, wrapped up in Rowan’s hoodie, curled up in his lap in their favorite armchair, back in their crappy, old apartment with the leaky faucets and drains that never really drained.

“What do you think of children?” He murmured, nestling his face into her neck.

Aelin pulled back, giving him a coy smile, even as her gut erupted in butterflies, and a warm feeling seeped through her every limb. “I absolutely detest the idea.”

Rowan pouted, eyes pleading with her teasingly. “Oh really, and why is that?”

Grinning devilishly, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Because I already have a man-child of my own, whom I love very much.” She then pressed another kiss to his soft, precious lips, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Groaning, he pulled her impossibly closer, and she adjusted her position so that she straddled him, and plunged her fingers into his hair. Rowan’s strong hands trailed up and down her thighs, exposed by her athletic shorts that she wore purly to torment him.

After a long while, he reluctantly pulled back, his eyes serious. “In all honesty, what do you think of having children? With me?”

Again, she grinned, and again she attacked his lips. “I’d love them.”

She was pulled out of her reverie by a gentle arm snaking around her middle from behind, a chiseled chin coming to rest on her shoulder. Almost instantly, tears welled in her eyes for a multitude of reasons. When was the last time she had even considered that day? And how so very much she wanted children, with no one but the man wrapped around her. Her face flushed. And she prayed that Rowan didn’t notice, or if he did, that he thought it was simply from the constantly flashing.

Rowan smiled deeply, but his eyes remained sad on a level only she could see. “No, I’m afraid not.

The reporter sighed, then proceeded to hammer them with more questions, until they finally made a respectful exit and rushed into the theatre. And now, curled up unceremoniously in the plush chairs in front of that giant screen, she felt as if she might be sick.

And then the movie began.

There was one scene - only one - that she could barely stomach watching. It was when her love interest, played by Dorian Havilliard, was brutally whipped, as her character screamed in the background. It was all too similar to the worst night of her life, where she had watched her best friend had been so brutally killed. How she had been locked in a small, lightless room for weeks, listening helplessly as Sam was-

It was as if he had sensed her distress, for she had never truly told him what had occurred those weeks she had been missing from school, that his warm, gentle hand came to cautiously rest over hers. And when she didn’t push him away, he slowly drew their intertwined hands into his lap, to fully enclose her small, nimble hand in both of his. Hot tears slipped down her cheeks. It had been so long, and yet he still remembered

Once it had passed, Aelin breathed a sigh of relief, as her favorite scene was coming up, in which she - as Liliana - got to leap off a cliff, and soar through the air after escaping her captors. That scene had been such fun to film. Smiling, she thought back to the day she had filmed that, and had returned home so happy and excited that she and Rowan had actually had a pleasant evening, in which she had told him all of the details of the film.

Slowly, she glanced over to Rowan under her lashes, and was surprised to see him staring awestruck at the screen, tears rolling freely down his tattooed face. And it was as if the fog which had been clouding her mind, her eyes for months…. It was if that fog had lifted, and she saw him. She truly saw him.

Pride, love and awe were abundant in his incredible eyes.

And she simply couldn’t help but to press a kiss to his hands.

Rowan jerked slightly, his head whirling towards her, his handsome features comically surprised and confused. Aelin cracked a smile, and snuggled into his side. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around her and it felt like coming home.

And as the movie carried on, she allowed her mind to wander, back to their most recent fights in which that wretched word had been flung.

“I never see you.” He spat, pinning her in place with a livid glare.

“I come home every night, I made sure that-”

“You stay here, but I never see you. It’s like you’re avoiding me.”

She crossed her arms and huffed.

Rowan pursed his lips. “So you are avoiding me, then.” He shook his head, eyes lingering on the fireplace behind her, rather than actually on her. “Can I ask why?”

Aelin shifted slightly. “Because I’m tired of fighting with you.”

“Really?” He scoffed, those chiseled features hardening. “Then why do you find fault with every damn thing I do?”

“I do not.”

“Yes you do.” He hissed. “When I went to pick you up from the set last week, you refused to come home.”

“Because I had a meeting.”

“That you didn’t tell me about. I had told you I wanted to spend the evening together.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Yes I did, Aelin. You were just on your phone.”

“And? I’m busy, Rowan.”

“Yeah.” Rowan huffed, crossing his arms. “Don’t I know it.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That you’re always on your phone! You don’t listen to me!”

Fury began to set her blood boiling. “Oh, I don’t listen to you?” She shouted, face growing redder with each passing second. “You don’t hear a thing I say! It’s like I’m married to a brick wall.”

“You’re really comparing me to a brick wall? Are you serious, Aelin? You downright refuse to even be in the same room as me. You refuse to communicate with me. Hell, half the time you refuse to even acknowledge that I exist! Let alone the fact that I’m your husband.” Hesitation shone in his eyes for a brief moment before dissipating. “Half the time I wonder if growing up in Terrassen really did turn your heart into ice.”

Aelin could barely school her face into neutrality. “If you really feel that way, then maybe you shouldn’t have proposed to me.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

“No. You shouldn’t have.”

“So then you agree. We shouldn’t have gotten married.”

“No. No we shouldn’t have. It was a mistake.”

“Finally we agree on something.”

“Finally.”

Well. Since we both agree, I guess that means getting a divorce.”

“I guess it does.”

Suddenly she was blinking rapidly against the bright lights that now illuminated the luxurious theatre, as the credits began rolling across the screen. And the very first name upon that lengthy list was her own, scrawled in her cursive-printed combination handwriting that had so annoyed and upset her middle and high school teachers.

There was a loud, high-pitched squeal as a flurry of arms, legs, tulle, fluffy skirts and red-golden hair came flying at her, clambering down over the rows of velvety seats to wrap her thin arms around her and bury that scarred, adorable face in Aelin’s impeccably styled hair. And following close behind were several of Aelin’s close friends.

“Hello, Evangeline.” She chuckled, hugging the little girl back with equal fervor.

“You were amazing!” The girl squealed, beaming from ear to ear.

“Aww, thank you. You’re too sweet.”

“She’s right, Ace.” A deep voice murmured from behind.

Aelin whirled, after setting Evangeline safely down, to see Aedion. Clad in a crisp tuxedo, his hair brushed, and for once in something other than a hasty man-bun. “You made it!” She squeaked, throwing herself into her older brother’s arms.

Once they separated, he was grinning. “Of course! I couldn’t miss your first premier.” Then his grin turned positively sneaky. “And I brought friends.” Then out stepped Lysandra and Elide, and Aelin saw her friend’s boyfriend off conversing with Sartaq and Dorian.

The three women shrieked in joy, instantly wrapping themselves into a clustered hug. After only a second, Elide let out a squeak, as she didn’t even come up to either woman’s shoulder, and they leaned down to include her.

After they had at last pulled apart, Nesryn, Manon and Yrene came up to introduce themselves, followed by their respective partners. Once Aelin had introduced them to her childhood friends, and had established a flowing conversation, she looked around for her husband, the urge to speak with him nearly overwhelming.

Mild panic began to fill her when she didn’t see him anywhere in the theatre, so she excused herself and rushed as quickly as her stilettos and dress would allow. Bursting through the thick door, Aelin scanned the foyer for that telltale green suit jacket and white hair, but again, she didn’t see it anywhere. And again, she rushed as quickly as she could into the lobby of the theatre, once again scanning the crowds, but once again she didn’t find him.

That mild panic quickly rose and filled her, blurring her crappy vision - worsened by the fact that she had forgotten to put her contacts back in after her shower - and filled her eyes with tears. Quickly, she wiped them away and smudged her makeup, and rushed out of the lobby, into the cool night air, where hundreds of paparazzi instantly began snapping countless pictures of her.

Stumbling backwards, she rushed back into the lobby, and rushed for the back entrance, tumbling out towards the garbage cans. By now, her hair had come out of its beautiful waves and was now a messy, unkempt rats nest.

Any inhibitions she had gave way when she leaned against the slimy, brick wall and slid down to the ground, burying her face in her knees as the hot, hopeless tears began to freely slide down her cheeks. Her dress caught on a chip in the bricks, and ripped, exposing a portion of her scarred back. A new wave of tears began, and she tugged at her hair.

What had she done? How had she let him believe that she didn’t love him, that she truly wanted a divorce? And who could blame him, she had been a total bitch. She had yelled at him for his greatest insecurity, the one thing he was self conscious about. And all because he hadn’t worn what she wanted. And that was after he had brought her everything he knew she loved, because the man who would forget his own name had remembered her birthday, and had tried to make it special for her, because he loved her. And she had yelled at him.

So, really, was it so surprising that he had left? He had seen her empty ring finger, and thought that she was leaving him, that she truly did want a divorce. But…. she didn't though. Sure, things weren’t great, but… there was no one person responsible for it. At one point, they had simply stopped communicating, and simply expected the other to know or do things that they had no way of knowing.

She had stopped truly communicating with him, but Rowan had kept trying to reach her, and each time she had shut him down and berated him for it. And so, he had stopped trying.

Letting out a high whimper, Aelin wrapped her arms around herself as the chilly air soon seeped into her bones. Yet another wave of hot tears streamed down her face, but she again swiped them away, rubbing viciously at her eyes. When she pulled her hands back, she found that they were smeared with a mixture of eyeshadow, mascara and eyeliner, and Aelin knew that she most likely looked like a sleep deprived raccoon. Sighing, she used the hem of her dress as a tissue and again wiped at her eyes.

Overhead, the clouds rumbled ominously and rain began pelletting the ground around her. Again, Aelin sighed, and stood slowly, making to walk towards the street so she could order a taxi-

She froze. A taxi to where? Home? If Rowan was really leaving, he most likely was back at the house, packing her things. If she made it home, she could talk to him, convince him…. Convince him of what? That she deserved him? That she deserved a second chance? After everything that had happened, did she really even deserve a second chance? All she had done recently was find fault with every single thing he did, and make him unhappy. He deserved so much more than her.

But…. he had promised her. He had promised that no matter what happened, he would always love her. And he had meant it, because he had stayed by her side, failed audition after failed audition. Hell, he had even been the one to suggest that they move out to california once she had finally landed a role.

Sighing, Aelin hung her head as a painful revelation came over her: that she didn’t deserve a second chance. He deserved someone who wouldn’t close themselves off and leave him alone. He deserved someone who knew his insecurities and didn’t hold them against him when he made a mistake. He deserved someone else, someone better. Someone who wasn’t her.

The light drizzle became a full-fledged rainstorm, and she turned, making to go back to her corner, where she would be sheltered from the rain behind that rancid garbage can, but her stiletto gave a sharp crack, and she tripped into a puddle, soaking her dress.

She cursed, drawing her foot closer, to inspect the damage. The heel of her shoe had snapped clear off, her dress had begun to rip at the seam and was now soaked and stained with garbage, and her leg was now splattered with mud.

Cursing, Aelin stumbled back over to where she had spent the previous several hours: behind the dumpster.

No sooner had she resumed her earlier position, the door flew open, and she retreated further behind the dumpster, curling into a small ball. Whoever had come through that door stomped around for a good while, and then the door creaked open again.

Then she heard a sharp gasp, and her head jerked up.

Rowan, looking as dishevelled as she had ever seen him, was crouched before her, his tie completely undone and the top several buttons of his now wrinkled shirt unbuttoned. “Aelin,” He murmured, leaning forward to put his suit jacket around her. “What the hell-”

She interrupted him by throwing herself into his arms. “I’m sorry, Rowan.” She whimpered. “This is all my fault, I should never have shut you out, and I promise that if you choose to give me a second chance I’ll do better.”

“Whoa-whoa what?” He pulled back slightly, brushing the knotted hair from her face, and wiping away some dirt on her cheekbone. “What do you mean? This isn’t your fault, and why the hell are you out here?”

“I-I thought you had left, because… Fuck, Rowan we’ve been fighting so much, and…. And last week we all but said we were going to get a divorce, and all I’ve done for the last I don’t know how long is yell at you, and earlier when you saw I didn’t have my wedding ring on, I thought that you thought that was me saying that we’re done, but I promise that I don’t want that and if you’d only let me explain that I forgot to put it back on after my shower. But if you’ve already decided that we’re done, I promise that I’ll respect that and you’ll never have to see or hear from me again.”

Slowly, she watched him process what she had said, as he scanned her face. “Aelin… no. No, I don’t want this to be over, and of course I’ll give you another chance. That goes without saying. I know how busy you’ve been, and I’ve tried to be supportive, but I know that I’ve been distant. I had wanted to tell you that if you were willing to give me another chance, I’d be everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Silver began lining her eyes, and she pulled his jacket tighter around her to ward off the chill. “Rowan, I love you. You never have to ask for a second chance. You’ll always have it, no matter what.” Her cheeks reddened, and she found it hard to look at him. “Because, Ro, I…. you’re it for me.”

In less than a second, he had pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping himself around her. Hot tears began to dampen what little of her gown hadn’t already been soaked, but she didn’t care, because Rowan was here, and he still cared.

When he at last pulled back, his eyes were red and puffy. “You’re it for me too, Aelin. You’ve always been it for me.” With that, Rowan leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her cold lips. After only a few moments, he made to pull back, but she gripped his shirt, and pulled him back to her, and she pressed her lips to his.

And as his arms wrapped around her, she knew she was home. With his lips moving sweetly against hers, it was as if they were seventeen, and sharing a kiss behind the bleachers at a highschool dance.

Once they had finally parted, she couldn’t help the words that tumbled out of her mouth. “You still love me, right Ro?”

Confusion filled his gaze. “Of course.”

“But then….why did you leave me?”

“What? I would never leave you.”

“Yes, you did. After the movie, I was looking for you and you were gone. I looked everywhere.”

“After the…? Aelin,” He smiled sweetly, cupping her cheek, “after the movie I went to the bathroom. I never purposefully left you. I’d never do that.”

She blinked. “So you’re saying I’ve been out here for no reason?”

Rowan grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You always did have a dramatic flare. It’s part of why I love you.”

Humming, she leaned into him. “I missed you.”

Another kiss was pressed to the crown of her head. “I missed you too, love.”

It wasn’t easy, and it most definitely didn’t happen overnight, and their fight in the limousine wasn’t their last, but they rebuilt their relationship. It took a lot of counseling, a lot of tears, a lot of talking, and a lot of patience, but, well over a year later, they were once again happy and in love. Some days were better than others, and it was by no means perfect. But they were happy.

Balancing work and their personal life wasn’t easy, and there were still many times that one person accidentally began shutting down communication with the other, but they now made a point to spend time together, and to schedule weekends off so that they could relax. Another improvement was that Aelin was no longer sleeping in the guest room.

Only a few weeks after her premier, she and Rowan had decided to move into another house, as they both agreed that it would be too difficult to repair their marriage in the house that had some so close to destroying it.

Now in a new house in the suburbs, Aelin felt as if they had been gifted with a fresh start, and another chance together.

Several months later, nearly two years after her premier, as they were wrapped together under warm sheets and in each other's arms, buttery sunlight streaming in through the large windows, with her head tucked under his chin, she smiled a secret smile, her thoughts drifting to the growing secret within her belly, whose existence she would soon reveal to her husband. But for now, she roused him gently from his light slumber. “Ro. Ro, wake up. I want to tell you something.”

“Mnggh.”

She could simply grin, and attempt to rouse him again. “Please, it’s important.”

One green eye slipped open. “Wa’sit?” He slurred, pulling her closer.

Bracing her elbows on his bare chest, she traced his collarbone with her fingertip. “I’ve been thinking about something for a while, and...I’ve come to a decision.”

Now he was awake. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his free hand, he met her happy gaze. “What do you mean?” He murmured, fingers combing sweetly through her hair.

Resting her chin in her hands, she gazed into his eyes. “So….I’ve been thinking that even though we’ve talked about it, and you’re completely fine with my acting career…”

“Mmhmm…” He hummed, smiling slightly.

“I’ve decided that I’m going to retire early, and get a real job.”

His eyes widened comically. “What?! B-but you love acting! Why-what… I’d never want you…. Aelin, you can’t! You-this is your dream job.” He sputtered, holding her gaze, and searching.

She cupped his cheek and brushed his bottom lip with her thumb. Trying to convey just how much she loved him with that gesture. “It’s my decision, Rowan. I decided to retire because I don’t like the strain it puts on our relationship.” Her husband began to protest, but she quickly silenced him. “No one made me do this. And, yeah, I know we’ve worked out ways to work through the stress my job puts on us, but… I don’t like it. I hate how we almost have to put on a facade for the paparazzi, and how absolutely everything we do is criticized and judged, and…” She took a deep breath, leading his hand to press against her stomach. “I don’t want our kids to grow up in the spotlight, where they’ll have no privacy be constantly scrutinized. I just...that’s not the life I want for them.”

Slowly, realization dawned on him, and he broke into a joyful grin, tears filling his eyes as he pressed a second hand to her belly. “Aelin, sweetheart, are...are you?”

She grinned from ear to ear, nodding her head vigorously. Rowan immediately wrapped her into a tight, loving hug and kissed her until their lips were numb and their stomachs roared for breakfast.

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lemonietrinket · 4 years

Text

Broken Crown ||| Prince!San x Reader

Summary: San receives a present from the leader of his kingdom’s governing body that turns his life upside down, and not for the better. His only comfort in life has been you, and now that comfort is being taken away from him. Genre: angst, bits of fluff with a happy ending Warning(s): big sad, description of an item of clothing thrown out of frustration (not at or in front of anyone, there is no one nearby at the time); foul language (2x f**k) Word Count: 3037 Song(s): Ambience AN: well im here hurting myself with this... hope its not too angsty anon (i cant find your ask tho idk where its gone) happy (slightly late) birthday to my boi san! :))

fem!reader royalty au

~~~

Rocks sank to the bottom of his stomach as San’s entire body flushed ice cold, and then fire hot. Eyes unblinking he peered round at the sea of smiles, their sincerity leaving him reeling. It was as if his head had been submerged in a pool of twilight sea water, the sun’s warmth leaving it lukewarm and dark, forcing his eyes to sting and glaze without even his full knowledge.

It wasn’t until he spotted the widened eyes of his cousin, far down at the other end of the table, that he realised something was wrong.

“Oh I can’t wait to see the two of them down the aisle!”

“She’s a real catch, Sannie! You’re so lucky!”

“Aww, look, he’s so overcome with emotion he’s—!”

“Oh my baby is growing up so fast!”

The world span and words merged into one inconceivable mass as San turned. A thick silence permeated his mind, flooding it with nothing but heaviness; the sound of his fleeing footsteps, the echo of confusion behind him, even his own heartbeat—all swallowed up. The only thing that pierced it was a high tone clatter, accented by a delicate crack and the shattering of glass.

Tripping up the stairs, his ankle twinging as he went, he broke through the doors to his room, where he came to an abrupt stop. The doors slammed behind him out of the sheer power he’d shoved them open, and as the adrenaline began to phase his brain back into control, he stood heaving. While fury flourished through his chest, gentle caresses graced his cheeks, painting them flushed when the two met at his throat. The unstoppable heat met numbing cold, and it was as if his throat became carved of hot stone. He was teetering on the edge of screaming, but having silenced himself, all he felt was the urgent threat of bursting.

Seeing no way out through his lips, his hands began wrenching off his numerous layers of clothing. The heat was too much to handle, yes, but feeling the silk burn through his fingers, and then watching the embroidered jewels scarper across the room as he flung them was a release in itself. Enough of one to allow the ice to cascade through him.

A shallow, creaking breath poured from him as he frantically followed where his coat had gone. Chewing on his lips, his hands felt around the fabric, still intact minus a few embellishments that had been torn off in his outburst.

No no... no no no...!

His gaze darted across the varnished crystalline floor, desperate to catch a glint, a twine of thread. With the quartz patterning blurring and yet somehow shining as if possessed, he had no clue if the words were coming from him out loud or were just in his head. There was no way for him to be sure, as days prior everything that had coalesced in a matter of seconds had been nothing more than a nightmare.

Tears trapped themselves between his eyelashes, leaving the world around him in the state of a dream, until he finally gave in. Wiping his eyes with the side of his fist, clenched and weakening, he sucked in air carefully. It felt too humid in his lungs and did little to quell the urge to succumb completely, but it was enough to hold it down for just a few more moments. And peaking up between his fallen fringe, that was all he needed.

He threw himself at the doors to the balcony, hands tugging at the handles until they finally broke open, and the outside greeted him.

It was an abrupt change, freezing wind slapping him in the face and grasping at every inch of bare and clothed skin it could get its hands on, but he could breathe. The shock stunted the tears long enough for him to clear his eyes properly, his murky salmon dress shirt—too loose to actually be comfortable and yet still restrictive at the shoulders firmly placing it as his least favourite piece of clothing he was routinely told to wear—finally serving a purpose he agreed with.

The heels of his palms collided with the stone balcony and sent a small hum of pain through his throat, though he paid no mind to it. His attentions were much more focused elsewhere—that being scouring the gardens below, the canopies of the trees beyond, and finally the lights of the city in the further distance. To his annoyance the damp air, enrolled to be the welcome mat for an oncoming storm, decided to shirk its duties and mess with his hair enough so he couldn’t see. Though what shook him up even more and truly beckoned the suffocating feeling to return was the absence of your silhouette.

It took all the willpower in him left to resist calling your name into the dark. As time went on however, the more he began to worry that he wouldn’t even be able to anymore, if he could. Becoming frantic, he slapped his hand against the stone and cursed. Once then twice, and then again and again until he slumped over the edge. The stone dug into his rib cage, leaving him even shorter of breath than he already was. He let his eyes fall closed, a whimper leaving his lips, leading him to press them straight and firm. San needed to stay together in one piece, and with the cold bringing an onslaught of reality checks in his head, the more he realised he needed to not behave any worse. But his tether was running short.

Luckily, the respite arrived in a matter of moments, and though they may have felt like hours, the ache of waiting soon washed away as warmth reached his side upon the balcony, and the scent of the wild world below was brought to him.

Despite your hands being carved from days of work you always held him so tenderly, as if never wanted to let him go—and for once, not in a precious gem kind of way, but more in the sense of a memory. A story from years before that never failed to bring a smile to your face. One that meant nowhere else felt like home but with him.

He didn’t really know how you got up onto his balcony, without alerting the guards or making the slightest of noises. Nor did he know truly where you were from. It wasn’t like you hadn’t told him—oh, he’d asked you about your life thousands of times and you’d complied in answering every single time with a content smile on your lips—it was just that he had no context to it. You told him of the streets and the lamp-lights, the cheers of the evening and cries of the night, the merchants and the bakeries and the patrols barely on watch, the docks and the promises it held of the future, a new world. But San had never been, so how could he ever fully understand and know of your past, when he knew very little outside his own upbringing? These were the things he lamented when the moon began to sink and you ushered him to finally rest, pointing out that he was moping again.

Your voice was as gentle then as it was now minus the mischievous tones, pressing hushes into his messy hair at your jaw while you cradled him to your chest.

“Shh, my love, it’s ok. Everything’s ok.”

Hands clutching at your leather jacket, ribbed with gashes that even you couldn’t place, he let himself relax. In your arms, his sobs spilled out so much quieter than they had done before, and his shaking slowly came to an end when they could have easily continued long into the night. Sat upon the stone floor with you, his problems seemed to drift away. He almost wished you weren’t as sensible sometimes, and that you’d let them pass. That way he could stay there in silence wit you for longer, just listening to the beat of your heart and how it aligned with his.

It couldn’t happen however, he had to face the consequences at some point, and when you slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, he knew there was little he could do about it.

Your motions were met with a disgruntled pout as the boy you fell in love with—now old enough to rule a kingdom without an Aide—wiped his eyes and blinked at you, happy to wordlessly pretend that none of that had happened.

“Happy birthday, Your Highness,” you teasingly greeted, cupping his hallow cheeks so you could trace shapes into his temple. Your face instantly fell when his did, however, and you realised that you’d struck a nerve. “Sannie, what’s happened? I haven’t seen you this upset in months.”

His gaze dropped as his head did. Your hand didn’t chase him, instead you settled it upon his own, balled between you against the floor. “San?”

“She promised me, Y/N,” he finally began, swallowing thickly, “she promised me and she broke it in a day. It meant nothing to her.”

“Her?” you enquired. “Your mother?”

He shook his head languidly and you could feel his fingers tense between yours. “The Chair. The Chair—she promised my status would be nowhere in any agreement in the trade talks and the—she fucking lied! Next week—with all fucking expenses paid for by the government no less—I... she—a-and she did it on my birthday! Told it to me now, gave it to me as a gift, so now there is absolutely no way I can refuse her! She did this on purpose, Y/N, she knows what she’s doing, she wants me over there for something and I... I don’t want to play her... her games—!”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” you breathed, stroking his white knuckles, “take it easy. What did she do, San? What’s happening next week, where are you going?”

“I’m getting married.”

His abrupt words stunned you into a paralysis. No breath left your lungs, there was no flicker of your fingers. It was like you became a statue.

“She’s married me off, Y/N. To this princess from Lontaiko no less. I won’t be here after it, I’ll move away, and then I’ll be completely at her mercy.” San glanced up at you, meeting your glazed stare with a sigh ridden with guilt—as if he had any choice in the circumstances. The sight of you without your smile was enough to make his heart sink, and so witnessing the colour drain from your cheeks and your touch go limp forced him to blink back tears once again.

He pulled your rigid hand to his lips and planted a kiss to your fingers. It brought you back to reality, throat dry and eyes wet, but his touches left your heart aching, his wound now a part of you too. And it tore your heart gradually apart, one thread at a time.

“Why?” you finally managed, gripping onto his hands almost as desperately as he’d done before.

He spat a laugh of disbelief. “’Peace’, she said. ‘Peace’.”

You scoffed a weak laugh, hiding your face within the shadows cast from soft candlelight behind. San didn’t let you go, his lips soft at your skin, trying to stay strong and encourage you that it would all be fine but you could feel in the caution of his movements that he didn’t believe it either.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I’m sorry I didn’t put up more of a fight, I don’t want this, I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to be king—”

“I love you,” you finally whispered, words fragile and very nearly swept by the wind.

His lips fell still. It was far from the first time you had told him, as every time the moonlight shone upon the two of you, the words kissed the night. Now, however, was different. Seeing you so curled in on yourself reminded him of the first time you had confessed to him.

A few nights had passed without a single flicker of your silhouette, no curl of the blossoms and brine that melded with you. He’d let it slip first, all doe-eyed and lips pursed amongst multitudes of pillows, waiting for his first kiss that you would bestow upon him. You had rushed an apology, brushing your lips against his forehead in a promise before fleeing. Every time the moon then rose he waited while dread trickled through his veins, until you finally returned. Your voice seemingly stolen and hands wrung together, gemstone eyes avoiding his at every cost while you waited on the wrong side of the balcony. You’d given him such a fright when he finally spotted you through the bronze embroidered windows—the first time because he couldn’t tell it was you, the second because you could have slipped and fell at any moment, perched where you were.

As soon as he joined you outside, he’d rambled about how worried he had been, not even trying to temper his volume.

You’d interjected him suddenly, “Can I kiss you properly?”

He’d been silenced immediately. And then between a small scowl, a pout and the puffing of his cheeks, he’d huffed, “Yes.”

You hadn’t relaxed until he’d held you, lips meeting in the golden haze of the torches that danced with the silver of a crescent moon.

It pained him to see you in such a way now, for all the wrong reasons. Reasons that couldn’t be helped, he reminded himself, his thoughts possessing a snarl and leaving the pit of his stomach broiling, nothing can ever be done... right...?

Shifting his weight, he raised himself so he was even with you, before at last holding you close. Your hands sprung into action to clutch at his back as he did so, your head nestling into his shoulder while your breaths became shallow. Nose pressed into your hair, he kissed your head as you begged him, “Please don’t leave me, San. Please, please don’t leave me.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at his bedroom. The grandiose sweeping canopies of his bed curtains, light peach and without a speck of dirt. The hard floor that was always cold to his bare feet without fail, and too hard to welcome him home after a long day of duties. The emptiness of the room’s vast expanse, adorned with nothing but elegant plants twisted around veiled sticks to force them to grow how the keepers’ wished. His eyes changed focus then, coming to glare at the dull reflection in the glass. The faded lines of his hands stroking your back, his intense expression, all stared right back at him, as if in challenge.

And something inside him snapped.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Upon the day of the wedding, after a week of flurried throngs of people and preparations being made, just after the clock chimes sang for seven o’clock, a single member of staff sped through the long corridors to the palacekeep at the very end. Minutes later, he marched with her in tow through to the King’s bedroom, where they found the monarch working at his desk, a bright grin upon his face.

At exactly 7:08, as the sun beamed down upon the kingdom of Silarrean—nestled between the rises of two valleys, neighbour to the realm of Lontaiko— the King fainted.

When the shadows of the sundials met the halfway mark for that same hour, those same persons that dotted the palace halls like bees within a hive, made up the crowds of search parties pushed to scour every inch of the city at the castle’s feet.

Within days, the Silarrean Prince San, who the Chair had announced to all the people was destined to marry the delightful youngest daughter of the Lontaikan royal family, was officially declared missing. The wedding was called off, though the King ordered no cease in the search.

It would prove null, however. The young prince was long gone.

Not that San knew of any of what was occurring back in the place where he had once lived. He could imagine it happening though, the images in his mind that hazy vivid that always accompanied him when he let his mind wander upon things he’d never known.

Leaning out to stare into the distance across the ocean waves, the boat proved to have a balcony of its own. This time though he was on the other side of it, and the correct one too: the one that actually involved living how he wished. He ran his fingers across the crown between his hands, the edges of silver carved into entwined laurels still sharp, and he knew he couldn’t wait for them to become rounded with age. He found he kept returning to the centrepiece, with its intricate feathers tinged with blue and the cracked azure gemstone in its centre. The split was shaped like a lightning bolt, and it brought a smile to his face, thinking of just how much of an impact he made upon the world around him. It symbolised how he would never return, and that they could neither replace him. He had taken very little with him, but the crown was his birthright, and so he would take it with him, but also leave its life behind.

Stood by the helm, you watched over him carefully. You would have joined him, but someone needed to steer. The small boat was only a relic, you’d been surprised that it even moved at all. The adrenaline, that had left your heart in your mouth when the rudimentary engine had coughed and spluttered on the night of your grand plan, had long since died down. It remained on the edge of your conscience, ready to cascade through your veins when you needed it. And you were well aware that on the route you were taking through life you were definitely going to need it. Until then though, you relished in the salt of the sea and the calm waters that the rising summer brought for you.

It didn’t matter after all, what would come. You’d find a way, as you were together, and you were both free.

~~~

an: i feel like this would work better as a longer piece, where the process of the week is followed, with more depth of lore and stuff but ill be honest with you, it took a lot of effort for me to write this in the first place. not because the idea wasnt my thing (far from it—this stuff is my shit) but because my creativity just doesnt like cooperating sometimes. maybe one day.

also what do you think of my new paragraph break thing? i think its cute. much easier to implement than the photo ones for sure.

all names of places are fictional

Masterlist

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