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hwadam-stories · 3 months

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⊹ PHANTOM PAINS ⊹ PILOT EPISODE

(black!fem!) mea harper!reader x ceo boss!dhan tae-oh

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

I do not consent to my work being reposted, — stolen or translated anywhere else.

⊹ CW: long post, emotional cheating, unrequited love, depression, fluff, drama, etc.

⊹ SYNOPSIS: Celebrating his niece's birthday at a restaurant, Dhan recognizes you from across the room as his past lover from five hundred years ago and is determined to stop at nothing to be with you again.

⊹ A/N: this is my first serious fanfic, feedback on this pilot (comments, messages & reblogs only!) will help me consider continuing it with motivation. Canon divergent / somewhat canon compliant to the MEA CULPA (2024) film by Tyler Perry with some crossover aspects thrown in. I hope you enjoy!

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Does Your Majesty wish to meet again in our next lives?" You asked, wrapping your arms around him.

"Of course, were you considering abandoning me?" Dhan replied, chuckling.

"Okay then, when the time comes, I'll be your master once more." You promised. "Your love. Your pain. Even your very last breath, please give them all to me."

"They are all yours, y/n."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

There was a time when those words meant everything to him.

A time when finding you meant everything to him.

But after his fifth life, Dhan had given up on his search and the phantom pains have haunted him ever since.

It was a pain that wasn't his, a pain that never faltered in reminding him of his failure despite the many times you two were reincarnated throughout the last five hundred years.

Your souls were connected after all and even though this pain has brought him a great deal of misery, part of him hoped you weren't feeling anything.

Presumably, because he was always reincarnated as a man, he assumed you would be reincarnated as a woman but other than that, he never really had any concrete way of finding you. It was safe to assume that since his ethnicity changed, yours did too.

Not that he particularly cared what race you were now, all that mattered was that he was reunited with you. But that promise has become nothing but a fleeting dream. A delusion Dhan couldn't completely let go of because this pain meant that you were alive, somewhere out there. Hopefully looking for him too.

In every lifetime after the first one, he always accumulated a great deal of wealth somewhere in his mid to late twenties under the name of Dan.

In this era, he was Dhan Tae-Oh, the boss of a CEO corporation in Korea and came from a long line of gangsters that reinforced the values of family and business to a rather high degree.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Tonight, he was celebrating his niece's 9th birthday and his sister-in-law's most recent promotion in the fashion industry.

His younger brother, Charles Kang, arranged everything at the finest Italian restaurant in all of Chicago, Illinois, called up Dhan three days before and here they all were.

"You know, we got lucky tonight." Charles set aside his fork and knife for a sip of wine.

"I initially planned to invite more people for Abby's dinner party but a larger group had already reserved a bigger table and I snagged us the only one they had left."

Now that Dhan gave it a second thought, Piccolo Sogno was unusually packed tonight and much busier than he had initially anticipated.

Even looking over his shoulder he could still see the glimpse of the same crowd he passed through, still waiting in line outside.

His assistant, Seon-woo, mentioned something about a on the rise celebrity artist being one of its more known customers over the last couple of years. No one Dhan had really heard of or cared to for that matter.

"Their celebrating their mum's birthday, I heard." Susan remarked, her posh accent gleaming through. She looked past her husband and over her shoulder, seeing the large the table behind them.

There were about five people and that one particular redheaded woman must've been the birthday mom. "Surely Abby won't mind sharing her special day when two cakes come out." Susan teased.

"You got me a cake?!" Abby gasped, beaming with a smile. "Is it a big one?"

"You can only have two slices, young lady." Susan tenderly pinched her daughter's cheek. "The last thing we need is you bouncin' off the walls at 2 o'clock in the mornin' on a school night."

Abby pouted and brought those puppy eyes straight to her uncle.

Dhan stifled a laugh, hiding that cheeky smile behind a half closed fist. "I'm sorry Abby, not even that can convince me to break your parents rules but I'll make it up to you when dessert arrives, I promise."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Dessert was served in the form of a double stacked white and pink frosted cake decorated with strawberries and red icing for the words "Happy 9th birthday, Abigail!"

Candles were blown and nine year old Abigail Kang became tonight's birthday girl that the staff (and some nearby tables) sang to. Pictures were taken and there were smiles all around.

The gift that Dhan purchased was a reasonably expensive one but not something he would ever think to showboat about. He simply had some connections here and there and thought to put them to good use for the short time he was going to be in Chicago.

"All fourteen of Taylor Swift's albums!?" Abby squealed, wrapping her arms around her Uncle Dhan and squeezing him tight. "I love it! I love it! I love it!"

Dhan laughed nervously, patting her head and squeezing her shoulder tenderly. "Your arms squishing my insides make that explicitly clear."

Everything was going great. Dhan was feeling great.

That is, until things weren't great anymore.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Dhan suddenly gripped the edge of the table to stop himself from keeling over on the floor of the restaurant.

His chest became uncomfortably tight and his head began throbbed with a splitting sensation.

The phantom pain had returned.

For the sake not wanting to make a scene or ruin what was already a perfect night, Dhan got his breathing under control, keeping some stoicism to his face to not alarm anyone.

The tightness in his chest seemed to lessen but the throbbing in his head wasn't going anywhere.

"Pumpkin, why don't me and you freshen up in the girls' room and leave the boys here, yeah?" As if on cue, Susan took her daughter by the hand and headed straight for the bathroom.

"Dhan." Charles sighed, addressing him in a somber tone of their birth language. Entirely oblivious to what his brother suffering with. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye but I'm really glad you could make it tonight."

He listened to his brother -- or at least tried to.

The words were being drowned out by a sudden ringing in his ears, leaving him momentarily stunned that it almost felt like the world around him was going to spin.

But he wasn't feeling nauseous from the alcohol or a sudden fever. It felt more like ... resentment.

It put a bitter taste in his mouth and made him clench his fist at the end of the table until his knuckles went white.

His brother hadn't done anything wrong and yet Dhan was being swallowed whole by the sensation, not knowing where to place it.

It's just ... if his brother wasn't the problem, then who?

"Oh look! Her Majesty, The Queen has finally arrived." A woman's voice cackled in the air.

She was an older looking caucasian woman with red curly hair and wine red lipstick, belonging to the group that booked a table for a total of nine and judging by what the already opened and nearly empty wine bottle, she must've had a bit too much to drink.

That's when he saw you approach the table.

It was you. It was really you.

His soulmate.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Don't worry son, your second wife will be on time." Azalia, your mother-in-law cackled, caressing the cheek of Kal, your husband.

His awkward shuffle of a smile made it crystal clear that whatever came out of her mouth tonight, he wasn't going to come to your defense anytime soon.

What can you expect from a man that holds his disrespectful mother over your marriage of three years?

What's worse is that Azalia had the nerve to invite the one woman she favored more.

Your husband's childhood friend, Jenna.

The same childhood friend that had become the topic of your marriage counseling session that your husband Kal had ditched midway through for this dinner party.

A session that you had to finish by yourself, making you the one who arrived late.

Jenna was a tall, light skinned woman with dark curly hair and a bright red dress with a V neck to show off a window of cleavage and a shortened skirt to show off her toned and slender legs.

And to add salt to fucking wound -- Azalia made sure Jenna sat next to your husband while you sat at the end of the table with your only friend and sister-in-law, Charlise.

"I'm sure you won't mind, y/n. You and Charlise probably wanna talk anyway."'

You looked at Kal, searching his gaze for something, any sign of him speaking up to his mother but to your utter disappointment he just let it happen.

You can only push down the intense feeling of resentment and agitation with a passive aggressive smile, taking your seat at the far end with Charlise.

This was going to be a long dinner to get through.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Apart from a brief exchange of words from your brother-in-law, Ray Hawthorne, and the couple sitting across from you, Charlise was the only saving grace at this table and frankly the only reason you kept it together as long as you did.

As much as you wanted to tear off that terrible red wig and burn it, you tuned out your mother-in-law whenever she made any more chide remarks about you.

Not much of a point in ignoring your husband, he was too focused on Jenna and giving Azalia one of the most expensive birthday gifts you had ever seen.

A silver and gold watch that you knew your unemployed husband didn't have the money for.

"Happy birthday mom, from me and y/n."

You scoffed in utter disbelief and stood up from your seat, grabbing your purse. "If you'll excuse me, I think I need some fresh air."

"Oh, well you take your time. We're doing fine here." Azalia insisted, smiling from ear to ear.

Kal was on the verge of getting out of his seat, expressing concern. "I can come with you babe--"

"No." You snapped coldly, barely sparing him a glance as you waved him off dismissively. "I'll be fine on my own, thank you."

Kal frowned, lowering himself back down with a defeated expression. "A-Alright, just don't stay out there too long."

You sighed into the night air, hands pressed against the metal railing while the people behind you carried on with their evening under the lit up patio roof. Glasses clanking, people laughing, wine pouring and plates clinking.

All of it was just background noise to drown out one particular thought that you couldn't run away from.

Maybe it's time to put this relationship on permanent leave.

It's not a pleasant thought. It never was. You and Kal had known each other for eight years and had been married for the last three of them. You've had your ups and downs like any other couple and got through it but this? This was too much. His mother was too much.

But that's probably what SHE wants. The sooner you're gone. The happier she'll be.

You only stuck it out this long because you genuinely loved Kal and Charlise was the anchor keeping you grounded.

As one of Chicago's most successful defense attorney's alongside your brother-in-law, you had everything and yet nothing at all with how your marriage was starting to fall apart, on top of shouldering the numerous bills since Kal lost his job as an anesthesiologist.

God, where did it all go wrong?

"Having a rough night?"

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the deep and smooth voice of a man walking up beside you. The cool night's breeze washing over you both.

He was a tall and handsome man of Korean decent. The darkness of his long hair making the crimson color of his eyes seem as though he were some beast straight out of a fairytale.

Alluring eyes that stared into you with a hint of sincerity and invitation.

You can barely hold in a chuckle, crossing one arm over the other to let your wedding ring glint in the moonlight. "That would be the understatement of tonight."

He sees this and can't hide the smirk on his face. "I don't blame you. In-laws can be infuriating like that sometimes. Especially mother-in-law's."

The restaurant wasn't exactly that big in terms of table arrangements so it makes sense one's antics would be overheard when they're standing around the biggest table in the room.

You chuckle again. The tightness in your chest starting to lighten but your smart enough to keep up you guard to shut down any potential flirting, even the harmless kind. "Can you expect anyone to act cordial on their birthday? I've been here all night without a single drink of my own and tolerating her has been exhausting."

You certainly weren't the type to open up like this to a stranger of all people but it felt good. Yes, you had your friend, Charlise, but there was something different about this man. Something oddly familiar.

"Because she's acting like a cunt towards you and only you and you feel that if you didn't step out when you did you would've tore her a new one right infront of her favorite son and the entire restaurant?" He guessed your exact feelings with a cheeky smile.

You exhale a baffled laugh.

It's like he knew exactly what you were feeling.

"Oh, so you're a mind reader now?"

He raises his right hand, jokingly. "Guilty as charged, your honor."

The both of you laugh.

"Dhan."

"Y/n."

Dhan smiled, staring longingly into your eyes. "A pleasure to meet you, y/n."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Eventually, you were back inside the restaurant. Sitting comfortably beside Charlise and ignoring another passive aggressive comment from Azalia.

You had been gone for a solid eight, maybe ten minutes tops.

The dinner eventually ended and everyone was putting aside their plates and gathering up their coats and belongings while Ray generously secured the bill.

That's when the waiter approached with an expensive looking bottle of wine.

Ray dismissively waved his hand. "No need to send over anymore wine, sir. You can take that back, the dinner party is over."

The waiter shook his head. "I'm sorry sir this isn't for the table. I'm looking for a y/n, is there a y/n here?"

You raise your hand slightly to get the waiter's attention. "I'm y/n."

The waiter smiled at you, presenting the bottle. "Piccolo Sogno would like to formally gift you our most exclusive wine to enjoy right at home. On behalf of a generous courtesy from Mr. Tae-Oh, ma'am who wishes you a fine night. Thank you for you dining with us."

A bit stunned, you still accepted the bottle. That name alone already clued you in to who this was from.

Unaware of your husband's jealous gaze, you can't hide the smile on your lips as you read the note on the bottle.

A drink to wash away all your frustrations - Dhan.

#mea culpa 2024 #mea culpa x reader #kelly rowland #trevante rhodes #kelly rowland x reader #mea harper x reader #black!fem!reader #black!reader #black fanfiction #elixir of the sun #dhan x reader #manhwa x reader #manga x reader #reader fic #black reader

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wintaerbaer · 7 months

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things we don't say: the before, drabble 1 (kth)

summary: After a night of drinking, you make some comments to Taehyung that makes him reconsider his relationship with you.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader

rating: sfw (for the drabble, series is 18+)

genres: best friends to lovers, fluff, angst

word count: 2.9k

warnings: alcohol use, unrequited love, jungkook isn't physically present in this one yet still manages to throw in some nonsense

a/n: this is the first drabble for my things we don't say series! shoutout to @btsborahaee for asking me if tae had ever taken care of oc while drunk and sparking this entire idea. not mandatory reading for the series per se, but definitely gives a lot of insight for some upcoming events <3 (can probably be read on its own for new folks, but you'll likely be missing some context)

SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

He probably should’ve stopped you.

Should’ve stopped you when Jimin offered you tequila shots at the beginning of the night (he knows that you always complain about the crash).

Should’ve stopped you when Jungkook challenged you to a round of beer pong and you surprisingly agreed (Jungkook is an ace, and you’ve always been a lousy shot).

Definitely should’ve stopped you when your friends began a game of truth or dare, and you convinced him to play with puppy dog eyes and a pouty lower lip (you looked so cute that he pretended he would’ve been able to resist you in the first place just to see you keep making that face).

Still, he tries to remind himself that you’re a grown woman and can make your own decisions as he heaves you through the doorway into the three-bedroom apartment the two of you share with Jimin.

“Congratulations, you’ve successfully made it home,” he says, gingerly helping you settle into a spot on the couch. You immediately pull a throw pillow into your lap and hug it tight, slumping against the arm rest. “How are you feeling?”

“We live in a pool now,” you mumble, the pillow muffling your voice.

“What?”

“Everything swimming.”

He laughs, propping the other throw pillow against your side in a feeble attempt to ensure you stay upright before he heads to the kitchen to get you some water. “I know you may not believe me right now, but I can assure you we don’t live in a pool.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Your face has slipped further into the pillow. “I’m a scientist. I know things.”

“You’re majoring in Communications.”

“That’s a science.”

“A social science.”

“I say it counts, so it counts.”

“Well I won’t argue with that.” He makes his way back to you with quiet steps, crouching down so he’s at your eye level. “So, Miss Scientist--” A glass of water appears right in front of your nose. “—what does the science say about water intake after a long night of drinking?”

You giggle, pulling the glass from his hands so you can peer through it at him. “See? Pool.” He can’t hold back the grin that spreads across his face as he watches you snort-laugh over your own joke and cackle, “You’re a merman.”

“Yah,” he protests. “I don’t know that I’m pretty enough to be a merman. Mermen are pretty, yeah?”

And even louder snort. “Tae, you’re plenty pretty.”

His heart rebels with the tiniest pause. “Huh?”

“Plenty pretty. Also alliterative.” You burst out laughing at that one, rocking your body so suddenly that Taehyung worries you might spill your water. He reaches out to stabilize your hand, crushing down the teensy marble of hope that just plopped into his chest—a process that he’s well used to by now.

“You’re not seeing right or thinking right,” he says. “Just focus on drinking your water.”

One final giggle as you bring the glass to your lips, slurping loudly. “Chef Kim, you’ve done it again!” you declare, putting on a fake accent. “This is the finest glass of water I have ever had the pleasure of drinking! Three Michelin Stars!” Then you go back to slurping the water, two hands wrapped around the glass like a child.

Taehyung watches you tenderly, his right hand betraying him and drifting upwards to lightly skim your knee as you drink. Frankly, he’s just pleased that you’re managing to get it all in your mouth, and once you’ve swallowed the last drops (your head tilted all the way back), you gaze at him with hooded eyes.

“I sleepy.”

“I’m sure you are.” He takes the glass from your hands and sets it down on the coffee table before moving the pillows from your lap so he can help you up again, placing a steadying hand at your lower back. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to your bedroom where you immediately face plant onto the bed with a huff.

“Careful,” he warns. “Don’t want to jolt yourself and make yourself sick.”

“I do not fear vomit,” you say dramatically. “Only when it’s a stranger’s.” You pause to burp. “And only on Sundays.”

“Today is Sunday.”

You flip onto your back with a gasp. “SAY IT ISN’T SO.”

“It’s so.” He nods at you somberly, playing into the bit. “It’s past midnight, which means it is, in fact, Sunday.”

An arm is thrown across your eyes as you groan, "Oh noooooooo."

Taehyung chuckles to himself, rummaging through your dresser until he locates a pair of sleep shorts and a drawer full of t-shirts (he quickly closes another drawer when he catches a glimpse of panties). He picks through them, grinning at how many are souvenirs of events you've been to with him—concerts, festivals, and even a team shirt for a basketball game you'd accompanied him to freshman year. It'd been his idea, wanting to experience more of the city you'd moved to for school; you'd been skeptical at first but willing to go with him so he wasn't alone.

Two minutes in and your enthusiasm had quickly changed. Feeding off the energy of the crowd and the excitement of the game, you spent most of the time on your feet, bouncing up and down and cheering with every basket that was made. And though the game had been his idea, Taehyung found himself far less interested in what was happening on the court and instead spent the evening watching you, smiling from ear-to-ear every time you clapped your hands or yelled in delight. You’d pulled him by the hand to the team store afterwards, insistent on buying a shirt for your newfound team.

He grabs that shirt from the drawer and turns to find you lying in the same position on the bed, still as a stone. Your chest rises and falls with slow steady breaths, and he thinks you’ve fallen asleep at first until you peek an eye out at him as he sets the clothes down next to you on the bed.

“Think you can get dressed by yourself?”

You raise yourself onto your palms, throwing him what seems to be your best drunken attempt at a sultry look. “You don’t want to help me?”

Taehyung’s body goes into an instant panic, half of his blood rushing to his face and the other half seeking a straight path south. “You—I—uh—“ he stammers before you burst into hysterical laughter.

“I’m kidding!” you gasp, wrapping your arms around your middle and tilting sideways on the bed as you’re overcome with giggles. “You should see the look on your face!”

He feels the relief work through slowly, even as his heart continues to pound. “You really had a lot to drink tonight, huh?”

“Hmm, a lot,” you hiccup. “Not so much that I missed your look of horror when Kook dared us to kiss.”

It was during the game of truth or dare that you’d roped him into. Rather juvenile for a group of third-year college students, perhaps, but your group had gotten to the point of mindless drunken entertainment. On your turn, you’d asked for a dare, only for Jungkook to challenge you to make out with Taehyung for thirty seconds (“Minimum,” he’d added with a wiggle of his eyebrows). His blood pressure had spiked then too as he glared daggers at Jungkook, praying that you would refuse. It wasn’t that he was opposed to the concept of kissing you per se, but definitely not under those circumstances. And definitely not when you didn’t feel that way about him.

He was flooded with relief when you opted to take a shot instead.

“You looked terrified so I drank,” you say in the present, pushing out your lower lip in a pout. “Would kissing me really have been that bad?”

Yes, he thinks. But for reasons you wouldn’t understand. I wouldn’t have survived it.

“Kook was just messing with us. It was a stupid joke, and you knew it. That’s why you drank.”

“I drank because you looked angry,” you press, and Taehyung worries that you’re genuinely hurt by the implied rejection. But that would mean— “We could kiss, and it would be fine. Here, look.” You sit up straight again, closing your eyes and puckering your lips in his direction.

Heat rushes to his face for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “What are you doing?”

“Kiss me.”

He’s shaking his head immediately. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Y/N.” He laughs gently at your pouting face, lifting the clothes again so he can drop them into your lap this time. “I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk. Like I said, you’re not thinking right. I wouldn’t do that.” He taps your chin, directing your attention down. “Get yourself dressed. I’ll find you a bucket and more water.”

You grumble something he doesn’t understand on his way out of your room, still a little flustered from your conversation. It wasn’t like you to flirt with him. And suggesting he kiss you? No. That definitely must’ve been the alcohol talking. Over a decade’s worth of friendship with you, and it’s never seemed like you’ve even entertained the thought.

Still, he thinks to himself as he grabs you another glass of water before making a stop to the bathroom, could it be that drunk words are sober thoughts? Could this be his sign to try and see if there may be something more lingering under the surface of your friendsh—

He crushes down the idea as it occurs. He’s been through this line of thought before and, as always, knows that no good can come of it. There’s no doubt in his mind that you don’t feel for him like that. And he’ll be damned if he burdens you with his own feelings. It’s his own problem; he’s not going to put that on you to solve.

He retrieves a small pail, make-up wipe, and bottle of painkillers from the bathroom before making his way back to your bedroom. Not only have you changed into your pajamas, but you’ve also crawled into bed, the blanket pulled over your head with you huddled beneath it in a heap.

Taehyung sets down the water and medicine on your side table and places the pail on the floor beside your bed. Nudging at the covers, he says, “Poke your head out. We gotta get your makeup off.”

You roll onto your back, sticking your head out with a groan. “It’s fiiiiine,” you whine. “Jus’ leave it.”

“Your eyes will get irritated. I’ve got it.”

He wipes delicately at your face, a caress hidden in every sweep of his fingers. And once your skin has been wiped clean, he tucks you in properly, curled up on your side so he doesn’t need to worry about you rolling onto your back.

“There’s water and medicine here” he tells you. “And a bucket on the floor in case you need to throw up. Do you need anything else right now?”

“No,” you sigh.

“Okay, if you need anything at all just shout. I’ll leave my door open.”

He’s turning to leave, thinking that’s the end of it when your voice calls out. Tiny.

“Tae?”

His focus is back on you in an instant, crouching down at your side ready to help. “What’s up?”

Your eyes are closed and you hum dreamily, fingers on the bed curling towards him. “You take such good care of me.”

Something wraps around his heart, squeezes. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Mmmm.” You’re halfway asleep, breaths evening out. “You’ll be an incredible dad someday.”

His whole world stops, your words rocking him to his core. Because how do you just lay that on him so suddenly? So casually? One of his greatest fears and insecurities, eased instantly by the sound of your reassurances.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, tears stinging his eyes. But you’re already out, blissfully unaware of the effect you’ve just had on him.

He can’t help but watch you for a few minutes, gaze studiously tracing over your face like he may need to one day draw you from memory. You look so beautiful, so peaceful—every bit the angel he forever sees you as. Unable to help himself, he raises his hand to gently stroke a finger one, two, three times through your hair before tucking it back behind your ear. And something may just have grabbed ahold of him tonight because before he stands back up, he leans in to press the softest kiss to your forehead, lips lingering against your skin until he forces himself to pull away.

He leaves the room quietly, with one last peek over his shoulder at your sleeping form. Crossing the hall, he begins settling into his own bed wrangling a hurricane of thoughts: you, him, how he feels about you, the years you’ve spent together and how he desperately wants them to continue. And, with everything you’ve said tonight, he thinks that maybe—maybe—there wouldn’t be harm in testing the waters to see if you might want something more too. Throw a bit of that flirtatiousness back at you and see what happens.

He falls asleep smiling. Tomorrow is a new day.

The sound of chatter rouses Taehyung from his sleep the next morning as does the smell of bacon. He sits up, groggily runs a hand through his hair, and pads down the hall to find you, Jimin, and Maya sat around the dining room table.

“Oh yay, you’re alive,” Maya teases.

He gives her a quick raise of his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “So it would seem. Why are you here?”

“Alright, going to pretend that was way more enthusiastic and ignore the tone,” she responds, leaning back in her chair. “We’re supposed to go down to the park to work on that project for Dr. Kwon’s class, remember?”

“Ah shit, that’s today.” He rubs a hand over his face, trying to wipe away more sleep. “Ok, let me eat and get dressed, and we can go.”

There's a crash in the kitchen, and Jimin, standing at the stove, calls out, "Uhhhh a little help?"

Maya rolls her eyes and stands to assist. "See, this is why we usually leave cooking to the professionals."

Taehyung laughs at their antics. Never a dull moment in this apartment. "Didn't feel like cooking this morning?" he asks, settling into the chair next to you.

You shake your head as you take a sip from the coffee mug in front of you. "No, Jimin wanted to do it. Said he wants to practice so he can impress that girl he's been seeing."

"Ah." He studies your face, suddenly remembering the way you'd asked him to kiss you last night.

"What?"

Your voice startles him out of the memory. "What?"

"You're looking at me funny," you say and take a swipe at one of your cheeks. "Something on my face?"

He's suddenly nervous, second-guessing his plan to test the waters with you. "No. Just wondering how you're feeling. You were...very drunk last night."

You blush. "Yeah, I don't remember much after I took that last shot, and you said it was time to go home." Scratching absent-mindedly behind your ear, you say, "I hope I didn't say anything too embarrassing after that."

"No, you were fine," Taehyung says, before quickly rethinking his words. It seems like it's now or never. "Actually, there were a couple things you said that I wanted to ask about."

"Oh no." Your eyes widen. "What'd I do?"

"Nothing bad," he chuckles. "Just that—"

Your phone chimes loudly, and your gaze shoots to it, immediately snatching it into your hand as Maya bolts back over and squeals, “Is that him?!”

“Yes!” you exclaim, eyes roaming across the screen excitedly.

Taehyung licks his lips, caught entirely off-guard by this development. “Who is this?”

“Jace from my Marketing Psych class,” you say quickly, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“He asked her out this morning!” Maya adds with a pointed look at Taehyung that he doesn’t know how to interpret. His stomach twists, chest burns as every hope he’d had of asking you about last night dies on his tongue.

“Okay,” you say, looking up at Maya, completely oblivious to the suffering happening on your right. “Friday at that fancy Italian place on Fifth.” You slap a hand to your forehead. “We need to go shopping!”

“Of course we will!” Maya trills just as you turn back to Taehyung looking mildly apologetic.

“Sorry, Tae. You were saying something?”

He licks his lips again, internally cringing at the bitter taste. “No,” he says. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Your brow creases. “You can always ask me anything.”

“It’s really nothing,” he insists. “I already forgot what it was.”

You’re clearly not convinced but you relent, giving a tiny, “Okay,” as you watch him stand from the table, eyes now directed at Maya.

“Just give me five minutes to get dressed and grab my stuff, and we can go.”

“But you didn’t even eat,” you say.

He glances at you from under his lashes as he backpedals towards his bedroom, heart in his throat. “I’m not hungry.”

It’s a sign from the universe, he thinks. A final killing blow to the hopes that have long lingered inside of him. And at this point, it’s best he accepts it.

You’re just not meant to be.

a/n: part 5 is my next focus, i promise <33 and if anyone would be interested in an ask game, pls let me know! it might help the gears turn faster :)

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #bts fanfic

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siriustar8 · 6 months

Text

Counter Productive

A little new years gift, something that was supposed to become a fully fleshed fic but ended up collecting dust among its siblings, if there's anything I'm loyal to, it's to never finish my work. But it reads pretty well as a microfic so I decided to share it instead ! Hope you enjoy it 🌸

Jegulus - slightly nsfw (really, just mentions of wet dreams and such, no details whatsoever.)

Lately, all his dreams consisted of dark brown skin stretched over the finest fingers he’s ever seen, that just so happen to ghost over his arms, his thighs, and pretty much everywhere on his body. The dreams vary between extremely detailed scenes of absolute debauchery -things that would give his mother an instant aneurysm- and sweet domestic moments, sharing tea and some biscuits, legs entwined under the blanket.

Both extremes have the same effect on him though : he wakes up with a headache, a shit ton of longing in his heart, and more often than not : a hard-on.

Regulus is a simple, simple man. He had an unfortunately eventful childhood, left home at the ripe age of sixteen to live with his brother, and balanced -tried to, really- his studies and a barista job. He had a sort of melancholic complexion, with dark eyebags and pale skin and scarce smiles, and he relished in it, in the mysterious air that kept people away from him. He loved music, sweet cappuccinos, stealing his brother’s boyfriend’s sweaters, and going on long night walks with said brother. Regulus also happens to love said brother’s best friend.

It was inevitable, really. The moment Regulus laid his eyes on James Potter for the first time, he knew he was a goner. There was nothing that could stop him from falling for that smile, for those sparkling eyes and curled hair and beautiful, beautiful hands. James carried himself with the confidence of a man that knows how charming he is, and Regulus is thoroughly charmed, all the way to his bones.

The thing about James is that he is as sweet as he is gorgeous, as kind as he is fit, he speaks loudly yet gently, and walks with a skip in his step as if the world was his to grab and enjoy. He lit up any place he entered, eyes stuck to him like magnets, and so did people.

The thing about James is that everyone loved him, so Regulus never stood a chance. But that didn’t stop him from waiting for James to stop by the café, to give him a dazzling grin and chat away about how he saw a puppy on his way or how a kid smiled at him or how he saved a lady bug from being stepped on. He was so endearing, so soft and mellow and Regulus just wanted to jump over the counter and melt in his arms.

Regulus wanted so many things when it came to him, and they ranged from friendly gestures to inappropriate ones. He would take anything at this point if he could, but he never dared to get close enough to James to do so. In fact, all he did was push him away in a desperate attempt to control his raging thoughts, so he responded to his smiles with scowls, to his laughs with frowns, and to his nicest approaches with grumbles while his insides turned to mush and threatened to spill out of his pores.

He was so enamoured with James Potter, and all he had to show for it were wet dreams and sad poems about unrequited love.

And it was easy to bottle it all up, because no matter how frequently James came by to the shop, it was a few hours a week at the most. So regulus was fine, really. He only needed to pretend to absolutely despise the boy, and he was a fairly good actor if he said so himself.

That was until James was standing next to him, on a monday morning, behind the counter.

#jegulus fic #jegulus headcanon #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus hc #jegulus #marauders #james potter #regulus black #wolfstar #regulus deserved better #james loves regulus #james x regulus #barista regulus black #barista james potter #james & peter & remus & sirius #the marauders #the marauders fandom

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ave09 · 1 year

Text

satisfied

han solo x reader

note: unrequited love at its finest. the song doesn’t match fully and i made some lyrical changes but i like this one, and it’s my first han solo fic! i’m praying i adapted his character well enough and if not, well, practice makes perfect

i know my sister like i know my own mind,

you’ll never find anyone as trusting or as kind

“i know something is bothering you, so please, tell me what’s the matter?”

“there’s nothing wrong, leia.” the brunette crossed her arms in reply, sending you a knowing look, “you’re a terrible liar, you know that right?”

if i tell her that i love him,

she’d be silently resigned,

he’d be mine,

she’d say ‘i’m fine’

she’d be lying

“what’s happening in here?”

and there he was, the root of your problems. he just strolled in, completely unaware of the agony he was causing you.

damn that han solo.

he entered the room, approaching you and leia, throwing his arm over her shoulder. your heart ached at the sight. leia leaned her head against him, “well, i was could see she was upset about something, but she won’t say what.”

han glanced at you, brows furrowed, “what’s going on, doll?“ tears stung your eyes. why did he have to do this? why did he have to do such things to make your heart swell and break all at once.

“nothing.” you replied, your answer short and clipped. han removed his arm from around leia, and instead approached where you were seated. he kneeled down in front of you, “y’know you can talk to me, right? i know a lot has changed, but, it’s still me and you, sweetheart.”

too much had changed.

you had been in love with han solo for years. you don’t remember exactly what date or how long you had been traveling together at the time, but you remembered precisely when you felt it.

it was after a rather dangerous smuggling mission. you, han, and chewie had barely escaped with your lives. once away from the danger, he’d rushed out of the cockpit, and he found you on the floor, dressing a burn from a blaster.

he dropped to his knees, pulling you into the tightest hug. it was abrupt, completely unexpected. han’s only physical contact with you had been the causal arm around the shoulder.

never had he hugged you in this way.

“kriffing hell, you scared me out there.” he was now referring to you taking the hit from the blast, you’d jumped in front of a distracted han to save him.

“don’t ever pull something like that again, you understand?” you had nodded.

and it was at that moment, you knew. something had shifted, and suddenly your feelings were no longer platonic.

but when i fantasize at night

it’s those hazel eyes

as i romanticize what might’ve been if i hadn’t sized him up so quickly

at least my dear leia is his wife,

at least i keep his eyes in my life…

“you there, doll?”

you were pulled away from your thoughts. “fine,” you replied, “i’m fine, okay? i’m just tired, there’s a lot going on.” and without another word, you rose from your seat, pushing past the kneeling man, bidding leia goodbye.

you had to get away. you couldn’t be here anymore. and it wasn’t anyone’s fault, you weren’t going to blame leia and han for having feelings for one another.

you wanted to be happy for them, but until these feelings went away, you knew that you’d never be able to feel truly happy seeing them together.

you heard footsteps echoing throughout the corridor, “hey! wait up!” you sighed deeply, coming to a halt as han joined you.

“you’ve been acting strange for weeks, it isn’t like you.” you glanced up at him, running a hand through your hair, “i told you, i’m just-“

“come on, i know you. you’re grumpy when you’re tired, not distant.” you averted when contact, “han-“

“i miss you, okay? i miss your liveliness, your spirit, i want my best friend back.”

best friend.

“can’t we just, i don’t know, go out? take a joyride in the falcon? something?” you could see the pleading desperation in his eyes. and it hurt you knowing what you had to do.

“okay.”

“okay?”

“okay. we can take a joyride, but, can we save it for tomorrow? it’s late. and i really am tired.”

han nodded, a bright smile spreading across his face. oh how you loved that smile. “right, tomorrow. i’ll see you then.”

“have a goodnight, han.”

“goodnight! don’t forgot tomorrow!” you smiled softly in response as you watched his retreating figure before heading to your quarters, tears streaming down your face.

and i know,

you’ll be happy as his bride,

and i know,

you will never be satisfied,

i will never be satisfied…

han arrived at your quarters the next morning, only to find the room completely empty, as though you’d never lived there.

the only sign of your existence he could find was a single note set on the table with only two words:

“i’m sorry.”

#han solo #harrison ford x reader #harrison ford #empire strikes back #han solo x reader #a new hope #return of the jedi #princess leia #leia organa #star wars #star wars imagine #original trilogy

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erenyuuta · 2 years

Text

Ice & Fire - Chapter 8

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Glossary & Character List (contains spoilers)

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Yuuta Okkotsu

Genre: Fantasy AU, romance, smut, angst, fluff, a crossover between Attack On Titan and Jujutsu Kaisen, loosely based on Game of Thrones and Eragon

Series Summary: Yuuta Okkotsu, the kind-hearted firstborn prince of the kingdom of Nymeria, finds himself stranded on an island that had been thought to only exist in legend. It is there he meets the last of the Valyrians, a dragon-blood named Eren Jaeger. While their days on the island are happy, they can’t last forever. Yuuta has a duty as prince to his kingdom that he must fulfill, and it is this duty that ultimately tears them apart.

Content Warnings: BL/Yaoi, hybrids/monsters, magic/fantasy, infidelity, power imbalances, graphic depictions of violence and death, explicit sexual content (blow job, anal sex, rimming, cunnilingus, exhibitionism, monsterfucking, knotting, foot play, heat cycles, 69, cum-eating, spit play, deep-throating, double penetration, sadism, masochism, blood play/consumption, choking/asphyxiation kink, handjob, drunk sex, orgy), dub-con, non-con, virginity loss, drugs (alcohol), traumatic backstories, unrequited love, drowning, murder, suicide, yandere tropes, corruption arc, major character death. Dead Dove: Do not eat

Written by Aleks from @erenergic / @princess-jaeger and Kana from @ficsforeren / @sundaysundaes

Poster art by @/ellvrell on twitter, commissioned by Aleks ❤️

THE SWORN PROTECTOR

Snow falls over the expansive green land of Nymeria, coating the verdant hills and grassy plains like a blanket. Trees, once blooming with the pink petals of cherry blossoms, are bare save for the thin coating of white. The lakes and ponds that scatter the palace grounds are frozen over, waiting for the warmth that comes with the spring, though it is far a ways off. This year it is exceptionally cold—even before the winter solstice arrives, the frigid air from the north blows down upon the once verdurous lands, bringing early snowfall with it.

It is the first day of the tenth lunar month of the year, considered the month of good fortune. Today, the Nymerian council gathers for its monthly meeting, which usually convenes over trivial matters such as disputes over land, relations with the other five kingdoms, or providing funds for the crown’s endeavors. But this time, with the status of the King’s health, and Princess Rika’s recent sixteenth birthdate, a topic of utmost importance is being discussed amongst the Lords: naming the Nymerian heir to the throne.

The council consists of the King’s Hand, longtime faithful friend and closest advisor, Lord Kento Nanami; The Grand Maester, Lord Yoshinobu Gakuganji, whose wisdom in the fields of science and medicine has proven unmatched and invaluable to the crown; Lord Ijichi Kiyotaka, Master of Coin, who holds the crown’s purse within his hand; The Master of Ships, Lord Hiromi Higuruma, who commands the royal fleet, delegates warships, and handles their sea fares; Archmage Satoru Gojo, one of the most powerful mages in the Six Kingdoms and loyal servant to the crown; and the strongest knight in the realm, the sword and shield who leads the King’s armies in battle and is sworn to defend Nymeria with his life, the Lord Commander of The Watch and Nymeria’s knights, Toji Fushiguro.

The members of the council sit around a table within the great hall of the palace, the men dressed in their most lavish robes and armors, sharing the finest wines that Nymeria has to offer. Their drinks are poured by the silent but ever-faithful servants who stand at the sides of the room, eager to top off the men’s drinks at even half-empty.

Out of respect, the seat of the emperor stands vacant, placed below the Nymerian sigil—a head of a direwolf embossed in silver hung upon the wall. At the right sits Nanami, dressed in dark blue with gold embroideries, his blonde hair short and slicked back. He has fine features, with prominent cheekbones and a silent but commanding presence—a demeanor fit for the Hand of the King, as symbolized by the badge in the shape of a hand that lies pinned above his breast. He is the first to speak, and as always, gets straight down to business, skipping the pleasantries of a formal introduction.

“I am glad to see you all have arrived well and safe, despite the sudden cold storm. As you may have heard, with the recent coming-of-age of the princess, rumors have begun to circulate amongst the nobles of our kingdom, wondering whether or not she will be named the heir to the throne.”

Ijichi leans forward, a thin, tall man with short dark hair and a pair of lenses atop his prominent nose. The first thought in his mind is the unrest and rumors that would spread amongst the kingdom if their beloved princess was not named heir; Rika is regarded as the most beautiful princess in the realm—a precious jewel to her people, the youngest and sweetest child of the emperor. It would be a mistake to not name her the successor, as she is well-favored even amongst the peasantry. The princess is the last remaining Okkotsu, therefore there is no other option but to choose her for the next heir—as choosing a lesser noble by vote of the council would cause quite the scandal and even bring strife amongst those loyal to the Okkotsu family, a line which has held the throne for thirteen generations since the very inception of their kingdom.

Ijichi places a hand on the table and looks directly over at Lord Nanami when he asks, “Why is the princess’s lineage coming into question? She is the only remaining child of the emperor. There should be no question as to whether she will succeed him. She is our only choice.”

Gakuganji, the eldest amongst the council, old enough to have been in the council of the previous Emperor Okkotsu, regarded as the wisest of the men, answers Ijichi. “We may replace her by vote, if it comes to it. The other five kingdoms all have a king at their seat. It would make us seem weak to replace our king with a young woman who has just but seen her sixteenth birthday. Nymeria has always been the strongest, the most prosperous—we need someone who can, at the very least, appear powerful before them.”

“You must not remember much about the princess,” Gojo pipes up from his end of the table. The white-haired man dressed in dark robes has his long legs folded quite rudely atop the table, though that is not out of the ordinary for the pompous mage. With his fingers interlaced above his abdomen, and a cheeky smile upon his lips, he rebuttals Gakuganji’s words. “She's always been a feisty one. She can keep up with those old fucks, easily.”

The Lord Commander beside him guffaws at his words, leaning back into his seat. “The powerful and awe-inspiring kingdom of Nymeria, led by a little girl. That would be interesting to see.”

“That little girl is your princess, Lord Commander,” Nanami says to Toji, his words on the verge of sounding like the barks of a protective dog. “Unless you have other leadership in mind.”

“We still don’t know what has happened to the king’s son, Lord Nanami. There is always a chance that—”

“Nonsense,” Hiromi interrupts him, always the voice of reason within the council. With Toji being the leader of the knights and soldiers, and Hiromi being the leader of their naval forces, there is always an unspoken air of competition between the men, one that carries even into the council room. “It has been six years since that boy disappeared. You would be a fool to believe he is anywhere other than the bottom of the sea.”

“Lords,” Nanami says sternly, chastising them before they can begin their usual bickering. “Until we are given any other proof, the princess is our only presumed heir. Unless there is any objection from the council, I will write to Seomor for her return to Nymeria.” Though Gakuganji and Higuruma look apprehensive, the remainder of the council nods accordingly to Nanami’s words. With no verbal objections, he continues, “Presuming the preparations will go smoothly, the princess will arrive after the snow has cleared in the spring, and be coronated by the fall. After she arrives, we can have her meet with suitors and find a suitable candidate for marriage.”

“Nanamin.” Nanami frowns at Gojo’s casual use of the nickname. “She just turned sixteen. Do you think she will agree to a rushed marriage? And the king is still alive, there is no reason to crown her so hastily.”

“That is a smart idea, Lord Nanami,” Gakuganji says, with a distasteful look sent Gojo’s way. “The Princess may be young and inexperienced, but if she is crowned with a lord at her side, hopefully even another prince, she will garner more respect from the remaining kingdoms. She would be treated as a woman, and less like a child.”

“I agree,” Hiromi nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “If we are to crown the princess, she should be wed. As is Nymerian tradition, an heir cannot be crowned king or queen without a spouse. If she is wed when she is crowned princess, she is guaranteed to be the next queen, strengthening her claim to the throne.”

Gojo clicks his tongue, muttering, “Such archaic, stupid rules,” below his breath. Only Toji, who sits beside him, hears such words. And though he agrees in part, he is more inclined to keep his head on his neck and not openly mock the traditions of the crown.

“Very well, then,” Nanami nods, seeing no opposition from the men around him. “We will write for the princess’s return. By this time next year, Gods willing, she will be our crowned princess.”

***

Satoru Gojo steps outside after the council meeting, heading towards the stables to mount his horse and head back to his estate across the forest. As he walks, his feet making crunching noises as he treks through snow, he contemplates the position the princess has been put in now. Through no fault of her own, she must return home and be crowned princess, marry someone she doesn’t know, and take on the responsibilities of becoming queen, all within a matter of months. Gojo, having himself been thrust into the position of archmage after his father’s failures, feels somewhat of kinship for the young princess, understanding the weight of having to take on a position so suddenly.

For Gojo, it happened several years ago. The council, watching the king go mad because of the curse which afflicted him, consulted with his father, then the archmage of Nymeria. However, because the spell on the king was an act of witchcraft, the mage’s magic had no ability to break such a curse. Instead, the mage was only able to place the king’s mind to rest. The king now spends his days in bed, barely able to hold a conversation, much less being able to perform the role of king. Though his condition is secret to everyone else except the council and the king’s closest servants, Gojo’s father was still punished for his inability to cure the curse. He was ousted as archmage and replaced by Satoru. Both mages were exiled from the palace and sent back to their family estate as punishment, and though Gojo holds the title of archmage now, there is still that sting that comes with the memory of being his father’s replacement through no will of his own.

As he wades through his memories, Gojo runs into his favorite knight—Megumi Fushiguro, a young man of only seventeen years who had just recently been knighted by the King’s Hand for his valiant efforts as part of The Watch in a skirmish in a village to the north. The raven-haired boy walks through the snow with three direwolves in tow. Though Gojo is not a fan of the wolves, he certainly knows the three who accompany Megumi: Ghost, a white wolf who once belonged to the prince; Summer, a wolf with amber fur who belongs to the princess; and Gyokuken, Megumi's personal wolf who has bright yellow eyes and white fur that coats his front legs, snout, and belly, the remainder of his fur black as night. When Megumi is not away or busy with duties, the dogs follow him around, as they have always been close to him since he was a child.

But the wolves begin to snarl as soon as they pick up a hint of Gojo’s scent. Megumi’s face, previously impassive, turns to a scowl when he catches sight of the annoying mage.

“Megumin!” Gojo calls out with a smile, waving frantically toward the knight.

“Just when I was having a decent day,” Megumi mutters, a heavy sigh leaving his chest.

Gojo approaches the knight, and before the wolves can tear the head off his shoulders, Gojo wraps Megumi in a tight embrace. Megumi places zero effort into hugging him back.

“Master Gojo, please get off of me.”

“I haven’t seen you in weeks and this is how you greet me? Breaking my heart, Gumi,” Gojo replies, with an exaggerated sob at the end of his words.

“If you don’t let go of me I might just break your legs too.”

Gojo instantly releases the knight, creating some distance between them. “You know, I had some good news for you, but maybe I won’t tell you anymore since you’re being so mean to me.”

Megumi quirks a brow. “Good news? I doubt it.”

The three dogs at his sides bare their teeth as the mage leans closer to the knight. “Are you suuuure? What if I said it was about Princess Rika?”

At this, Megumi’s eyes widen. He turns his face to the side, avoiding the mage’s shit-eating grin. In the tiniest voice Gojo has ever heard from Megumi, Megumi asks, “What about the princess?”

“Nevermind, it seems like you don’t wanna know.” Gojo begins to turn around, biting his tongue to stop from chuckling. Megumi instantly grabs his collar, pulling him back.

“I… Just tell me,” Megumi sighs, tucking his eyes below his fringe. When Gojo turns back to face him, he sees Megumi’s face turning just the slightest tinge of pink, and it most certainly isn’t because of the cold.

“Well, I heard from a very secret source that the princess will be returning home in a few months.”

Megumi reaches up a hand to scratch at his own nape. “Is… Is that true? After so long?”

“I know you miss her dearly but don’t look too excited, Megu—”

“I am not,” he says, face ablaze. “I just—I was just thinking about how my… My sister will be back too, then.”

“And here I thought knights were sworn to always tell the truth,” Gojo snickers, waving a hand in the air dismissively.

Megumi slaps a firm hand against Gojo’s back, pushing him further towards the stables. “Shut up, you stupid mage.”

“You cannot lie to a mage who uses the Six Eyes, Gumi,” Gojo winks, to Megumi’s horror. “If you won’t be honest with me, at least be honest with yourself,” Gojo adds, his voice losing its mirth.

Megumi blinks at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

At this, Gojo leans forward, and with two fingers he flicks the young knight’s forehead. Megumi sends him a glare. “Perhaps I’m not the only stupid one here.”

“What—”

Before Megumi can get his answer, Gojo plasters a smile once more on his face, crystal blue eyes shining bright amongst the falling snow. “I’ll see you around, Megumin. I’m freezing my ass out here. I’m heading home before the snowstorm gets worse.”

Megumi rubs at his forehead where Gojo had just flicked him, utterly confused by Gojo’s strange behavior. But besides that, happiness swells in his chest because finally, his princess and his sister will be returning home.

***

Princess Rika Orimoto heaves a heavy sigh, blinking wide brown eyes languidly as she stares out into the dark blue ocean outside her port-side window. In the distance, the coast is visible, meaning soon they will land upon shore. It has been many days of travel, both by land and aboard this ship, but that isn’t what plagues her mind nor what makes her heart feel heavy in her chest. As the sunlight glimmers over the waves before her, she can’t help but be reminded of the most precious person she had lost many years ago: her older brother, Yuuta.

Unlike that rainy day when the world around them was darkened with storm clouds and the water was tumultuous, this day the sky is a warm, clear blue, devoid of clouds and illuminated by the sun. It has been almost six years since the incident, yet Rika remembers it so vividly as if it had happened just the day before. For many years she had relived that day, the way she had screamed for him to stay, with her hand outstretched in a desperate attempt to keep him aboard the ship. But even in her dreams he never stays. His body always disappears beneath the waves, swallowed whole by the vengeful sea.

But after many years of nightmares and having hope that he would return, her thoughts changed. Besides her prayers to the Gods for his safe return, she prayed for her mother’s and Yuuta’s happiness in heaven, too. Perhaps maturity came with age, or perhaps it was acceptance of the awful truth she tried to deny, but after many years of hoping for him to be alive, she began to pray that he would be happy in death, too.

That is what Rika does now as she gazes into the ocean, a somber look on her face as she clasps her hands together in front of her face in prayer.

“I hope you’re happy, Yuuta,” she whispers into her palms, her eyes fluttering shut as she speaks to the gods. “Please keep our mother company, if you’re up there… I miss you, brother.”

“Your Highness,” a cheerful voice interrupts her, stepping into her quarters. “We are landing at the southern Nymerian port now. It will be just a carriage ride to the palace after we disembark. Won’t be much longer until we’re home.”

Rika startles at the sound of her handmaiden’s voice, opening her eyes and dropping her hands to her sides. She turns away from the window, looking up at the brown-haired girl who stands at the door.

“Lady Tsumiki,” Rika nods in her direction. “I didn’t see you there.”

Tsumiki crosses the short distance from the chamber door, wrapping her fingers around Rika’s wrists. “Princess, you do not need to address me as a lady. Just Tsumiki is fine, you know this.”

Rika shakes her head. “Nonsense, your father served mine as his sworn protector. You’ve earned your title. You know this.”

Tsumiki knows, having been friends with Rika since they were children, that there is no sense in arguing with Princess Rika, a girl more stubborn than a mule. Tsumiki holds Rika’s palms within her own, her voice softening as she asks, “Are you all right, my lady? Fretting over your brother again, are you?”

“I know, I know,” Rika replies, casting her gaze down to her feet. “Six years without any word of him… It is foolish for me to hope.”

“It is not foolish, Your Highness. I would do the same for my own brother.” Tsumiki brings her palm to Rika’s cheek, a comforting gesture between friends. Her soft brown eyes peer into the sad browns that make the princess’s irises. “I just do not wish to see you in such pain, princess.”

“Perhaps I’ve just been thinking of him more lately…” Rika’s voice drifts off, contemplative.

“Is it because of your impending coronation, my lady?” Tsumiki retracts her hand, crossing her arms above her chest. Rika walks a few steps to the side, turning and sitting down on the bed in the room. She sighs and crosses her ankles, fidgeting with her hands on her lap.

“Yes,” she admits after some silence. Tsumiki follows her and sits on the bed at her side, turning to face the princess. Her gaze is warm, and the palm that she lands on Rika’s back is reassuring. “I’ve just recently turned sixteen—what do I know about ruling a kingdom? And worst of all, I’ll have to wed.”

Tsumiki giggles as she sees Rika scrunch up her nose in disgust. She takes Rika’s hands into her own, speaking with conviction, “Princess, you would be the most amazing queen one day. You are headstrong and sympathetic to the people. You would fight for us, yet you would be just. And you are the most beautiful lady in all the six kingdoms. Any man would pay the highest dowry to marry you, my lady.”

“It is easy for you to say such things, Lady Tsumiki—your father is the Lord Commander, revered by all. You’re lucky you are not the daughter of The Mad King.” Rika chews her lip, remembering the words many have thrown at her throughout the last few years whenever she attended the gatherings of the upper class. There were more times than not that she was rejected by all the eligible noblemen in Seomor, rumors of her father’s madness hanging over her like a dark cloud. “It will be difficult to find a husband willing to marry into a cursed family.”

“Nymeria is the most powerful kingdom in the realm,” Tsumiki replies, leaning in closer to meet Rika’s pensive gaze. “And you’ve changed your title to Orimoto Rika, taking the name of your mother’s noble family. Though they aren’t Nymerian royalty, they are of high birth all the same. Your mother was able to marry a king, wasn’t she? You are a fine eligible maiden, Your Highness. The King’s Hand himself requested your presence once more in the kingdom. He knows you will easily find a match once you arrive.”

“I do not wish to think about getting married, truthfully,” the princess sighs. Changing the subject, she asks, “Did Lord Nanami say anything in regard to my father?”

Even after almost six years, she has not heard much about Emperor Okkotsu. Rika has spent the time since her departure from Nymeria with the maiden side of her family, the Orimotos, where she continued to be educated and raised as a princess within their lands in the kingdom of Seomor. Yet, they kept her in ignorance about her own kingdom, giving her very few updates about the state of her homeland besides telling her that the kingdom was peaceful. Therefore she doesn’t know what to expect now as her ship lands at the port of the country she hasn’t lived in for six years. She knows nothing of the palace, nor of her father. But she hopes the transition to palace life will be easy.

“He had written that your father awaits your return, princess. He did not say much more than that.”

Rika rolls her eyes. “Lord Nanami is always a man of few words. Well, I guess we will see what happens when we arrive at the palace.”

The ship stops moving just as Rika had spoken her words as if arriving at port on her command.

“Seems that will be sooner than later, Your Highness.” Tsumiki rises from the bed, preparing to gather her and Rika’s belongings for their disembarkation.

Rika glances out her port-side window once more, a mix of emotions brewing within her chest. She takes a deep breath and rises from the bed, walking closer to the window to curl her fingers around its metal edge. She can see the port, the people rushing across the wooden pier going about their daily lives, and below them, pale blue waves crashing upon the beach. She’s on land once more, yet it doesn’t feel like home. It feels foreign to her, anxiety welling up in her chest.

“Yes… We’re almost home.”

***

Megumi Fushiguro rocks back and forth between the heels and toes of his feet, anxiously awaiting the princess’s arrival as he stands guard at the doors to the palace. It has been years since he’s seen Rika and his sister Tsumiki, as she had left the palace with the princess so suddenly six years ago when they had been sent away to the west. Despite becoming hardened by his knight’s training, Megumi still has a soft spot for Rika and for his sister, who had become the trusted lady to the princess just as his father is one of the king’s trusted men. Outwardly, he is as stoic as ever, but on the inside, his heart aches to see them again. He stands tall in his knight’s armor, the spring air warm but refreshing as the sun reflects off the silver metals that protect his body.

At Megumi’s left side is his faithful direwolf, Gyokuken, yawning as his fur is warmed by the spring sun. On his right side sits Summer, Rika’s direwolf, waiting just as impatiently as Megumi does for the princess and her entourage. She is as tall as Megumi’s waist, with beautiful brown fur that shimmers in the sunlight. Megumi absentmindedly strokes her fur behind her ears, the wolf lolling out her tongue and panting with excitement, drooling staining the fur on her chin.

“You must know that Rika’s coming home, huh, Summer?” Megumi says aloud, though he knows Summer doesn’t fully understand his words. The only ones who can communicate with the direwolves are the royal family, for the wolves have had such a bond for centuries with the descendants of Sugawara, Nymeria’s first emperor.

Megumi’s eyes are trained on the wolf’s fur, so when Summer suddenly begins to bark at the palace gates it startles him from his thoughts. He looks up and sees the carriage, drawn by horses and flocked by knights. Megumi retracts his hand from the wolf and stands at attention until the carriage comes up to the entrance. He steps forward, rushing to the carriage’s side to greet the arriving royal.

“Your Highness,” the young knight nods his head as he bows at the waist, one arm at his side, the other bent up with his palm over his chest. Rika stands from her seated position once the carriage has come to a stop, and looks out of the carriage, peering down at the knight with a questioning glance.

“Gumi, is that you?” She asks, a smile crawling up her face as she gazes at her childhood friend. She immediately takes note of his silver armor and tall stature—a complete change from the small raven-haired boy she knew six years ago. Though she knows from Tsumiki’s correspondence with him that Megumi had become a knight just the past fall, seeing him in person somehow makes it seem more real.

To Rika, Megumi is one of her most treasured childhood friends. He was nine, and Tsumiki eleven, when they met the Okkotsu prince and princess for the first time, introduced to each other by their fathers. While it was easy for Tsumiki to test the barriers of social status because of her extroverted and compassionate personality, Megumi was more intimidated by the younger princess and the ten-year-old prince. Although he was the son of a kingsguard, at the end of the day he was still a commoner, a mere boy in comparison to the siblings who would one day rule the land. Too afraid to anger or offend the young royals, Megumi was oftentimes very standoffish and curt with them but enjoyed their company all the same.

To Rika, Megumi is one of her most treasured childhood friends. They have been friends since they were young children, introduced to each other by their fathers. While it was easy for Tsumiki to test the barriers of social status because of her extroverted and compassionate personality, Megumi was more intimidated by the young royals. Although he was the son of a kingsguard, a title that conveys some elevation of status, at the end of the day he was still a commoner, a mere boy in comparison to the siblings who would one day rule the land. Too afraid to anger or offend them, Megumi was oftentimes very standoffish and curt with them but enjoyed their company all the same.

Looking over at Rika now, he finds himself surprised at how she has grown from a child to a young woman, bewitched by her beauty. People often called her the most beautiful princess in the realm—The Realm’s Delight—and he had wondered over the years if she was still as pretty as she was when he first knew her. But seeing her in person now outright stuns him.

For a moment, his breath is caught in his chest and his jaw slacks as his green eyes, the brightest shade of verdelite, lock onto Rika’s chocolate brown. As Megumi rises from his bent position, he extends his hand out towards the carriage, waiting for Rika to place her palm within his own. Rika ignores it, jumping off the carriage and landing on her feet. Just as stubborn as always.

“Princess, please be careful—”

She envelops the raven-haired knight in a tight embrace, startling him. “I’m glad to see you, Gumi. I’ve heard you’re a knight now, huh?”

Rika pulls away and clamps her hands onto Megumi’s armored shoulders. Her stare bores into his face, making the young knight even more flustered than he already is.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he replies, his body stiff as a board.

“Wow, and you’re so handsome now too,” Rika pinches his cheek with a bright smile.

Once Rika lets go and looks up at him, Megumi’s mouth opens and closes, like a fish out of water. He wants to give her some kind of reply that can express his thoughts—perhaps how much he’s missed her, or how much she’s grown, how beautiful she looks… But before he can form the words, Rika looks over his shoulder and sees the brown direwolf that practically begs for her attention, whining with its tail creating dust as it thumps excitedly at the ground.

“Summer!” Rika exclaims, releasing Megumi and taking a few eager steps past him. Her direwolf charges up and into her arms, knocking her backward and licking at her face. Rika giggles as her back lands on the grass, her arms coming up to stroke the wolf’s fur. “Oh, I’ve missed you too, Summer.”

Tsumiki then steps down from the carriage, taking her brother’s hand as her feet land on the ground.

“Pick up your jaw or you’ll catch flies, brother,” she teases, seeing how Megumi still stares at the princess in stunned silence. The blush on his face crawls to the tips of his ears but he’s too happy seeing his sister after so long to be mad at her for her taunting.

“Miki,” Megumi calls her name fondly, bringing his sister into his embrace. “I’m glad you’re both home safely. You’ve grown so much.”

“And you, Megumi, you’re so big now,” Tsumiki laughs, nuzzling into her brother’s chest. “What happened to my little brother?” When they were children, Tsumiki was taller than Megumi. Now, Megumi is a whole head taller than she is.

“That’s Lieutenant Fushiguro to you,” he teases, separating from his sister to look over at the princess.

Summer makes a noise, somewhat of a huff, and it makes Rika chuckle. “Is that so?” She asks, looking up in Megumi’s direction. Megumi returns her gaze, brows threaded in confusion, and she answers his unspoken question. “Summer says you really missed me, Gumi."

Megumi shoots a glare at the brown wolf, yet the crimson that paints his face doesn’t let up for a moment.

“Is it true, then?” Rika asks, the mirth fading from her voice. Tsumiki knowingly smiles at their exchange but says nothing. To her chagrin, Megumi and Rika have been separated for years and yet their relationship seems to pick up right where it had left off.

Megumi turns away, opting to stare at his feet. “No, not at all, I—“ He turns to his side and sees Gyokuken. “I definitely have not spoken about you, princess. Right, Gyokuken?” Gyokuken, who had been silently observing his master at his side, snorts at Megumi’s cowardice, shaking his head as he begins to walk towards the palace. Thanks for the backup, traitor.

“A-Anyway, Your Highness, we should head inside the palace,” he stutters.

Rika strokes Summer’s fur, asking, “What’s the rush? We just got home.”

“The King’s Hand has told me he wishes to see you at once.”

At this, Rika and Summer stand from the ground. Summer joins Gyokuken’s side as Rika dusts off her pale blue dress, brushing back the few loose strands of hair that had fallen from her braid when she fell to the ground. She knows better than to keep the most impatient man in the realm waiting. “Lead the way, then.”

***

As Rika walks through the palace following Megumi’s lead, Tsumiki on her left side, the pair of wolves on her right, she realizes just how little the palace has changed from her memory. The servants are still the same familiar faces from her childhood. The walk from the entrance to the royal chambers is engrained in her mind even after so many years, her feet carrying her over the thick carpets and marble floors as if by memory. The paintings of her ancestors that line the pale gold-trimmed walls are still the same. It’s how she knows to turn her eyes away from the very last portrait in the hall, the one which depicts the current emperor, her father.

“Welcome home, princess. Glad to see you have arrived safely,” she hears a deep voice say once they stop before the royal chancery.

When she looks up she sees the face of her father’s advisor, Lord Kento Nanami, welcoming her into the room. The reflection of his glasses hides his gaze from her, and with his typical stoic expression, it is hard to tell what feelings he has, if any at all. She opts to be polite with him, not knowing his intentions. “Good to see you again, Lord Nanami,” she says, performing a curtsey.

Nanami’s gaze shoots to her companions, and a curt “leave us” is uttered past his lips as he ushers Rika to come further inside.

Tsumiki looks at Rika hesitantly, but Rika sends her a reassuring smile. “Go on ahead and spend some time with your brother, Lady Tsumiki. I’m sure you’ve missed him. I’ll be all right here. You know, royal business.”

Tsumiki bows, sharing a knowing glance with Rika. “Of course, my lady.”

As the door shuts on the two Fushiguros and the direwolves, Rika steps further inside. The room is still just as dark and cold as it once was, lined with bookshelves on its walls and a large window that overlooks the back gardens. A large wooden desk belonging to the king lies within steps of the doorway, and it is there that Nanami takes a seat. Rika follows, sitting in a plush upholstered seat across from him.

“Is everything all right, Lord Nanami? What about my father? Where is he?”

“That’s why I called you here, princess,” the lord replies. He turns in his seat, crossing his legs and leaning back as his gaze shifts to the window. Outside the gardens are teeming with life, the height of the spring in full effect. He takes a deep breath and sighs. “I’ve called you here to speak about your father.”

At this, Rika squirms in her seat. The last she had seen of her father was the night he had murdered her mother with his bare hands in a fit of madness. Although peace had finally reigned over Nymeria, war still waged in her father’s mind. She fears the worst, thinking perhaps her father is still mad. She nods in silent anticipation.

“Your father lies bedridden, weakened by his illness,” Nanami starts, awaiting Rika’s reaction. She simply nods pensively. “In your absence, I’ve been working on your father’s behalf. The other kingdoms do not know of his illness, which is why we did not tell you over letters in case any were to be intercepted. If the other kingdoms found out our king was weakened we would be vulnerable.” Rika nods, agreeing with his reasoning. “But now that you are sixteen, you are of age to rule. Once you marry and declare the intention to have an heir, we can crown you as queen. I apologize to put this upon you so soon but… with your brother’s death, you are the only descendant left of the emperor. And with the state of his health, we don’t know how long he has left.”

“I see…” she murmurs. She looks to her side, where another portrait framed with ornate gold designs hangs in the chancery. It depicts her father, dressed in his royal garb with a stern face yet a warm gaze, and her mother, as delicate and beautiful as a rose with a soft pink dress to match. She sees her younger self, a genuine smile with eyes like crescents while she wears a beautiful violet gown. And she sees her brother, with his clear sapphire eyes that radiate warmth and an earnest closed-lip smile, his arm around her shoulders despite his stiff and stuffy royal ornaments.

I wish you were here, Yuuta, she thinks, locking eyes with his soft smile. You were meant to be king… not me. I’m not as strong as you are, nor as kind-hearted… Could I even come close? I’m afraid to face the world on my own when they hate us so much…

Rika doesn’t speak her thoughts aloud, instead fisting her hands onto the skirt of her dress and gritting her teeth. She’s afraid, so afraid to become the ruler of the most powerful, yet most hated kingdom in the realm. The stain of her father’s sins taints her reign before it even starts, and she knows it will be difficult to change her reputation. But if it were Yuuta, he would accept this responsibility without a second doubt.

“Are you ready to declare your intention to find a suitor and become crowned queen, Your Highness? It will take some time to prepare but we can begin to look towards the lords and nobility of Nymeria—or outside the kingdom, if you desire. We can hold the coronation in a few months’ time.”

Rika’s eyes are still on the portrait that hangs on the wall. She knows her responsibility is to her kingdom and to the royal family, things she’s been told about since she was a child. Though when she was younger she would protest at the thought of fulfilling her duties as princess, over the years she has grown to understand that this is her birthright, whether she chooses to accept it gracefully or not. So she swallows her reservations and steels herself. With determination, she looks toward Nanami and nods.

“Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever is necessary to become queen.”

Lord Nanami nods, pleased with the princess who has returned to them from the west. When Rika had left, she was immature, perhaps some would say even a bit of a spoiled brat. But now she seems to be much more refined and dutiful, having matured some with age. Nanami stifles a smile, seeing the Princess stepping into her role.

Rika asks, “Lord Nanami?”

“Yes, princess?”

“May I see my father?”

“Of course.” Nanami rises from his seat and walks around the desk, extending out his arm for the princess. She lays her palm atop his clothed forearm. With one last glance at the portrait in the chancery, she nods before turning away. She puts on a brave face, walking alongside the King’s Hand, feeling somewhat empowered by the sight of her mother and brother’s smiles.

***

It has been only a fortnight since the princess’s arrival, but already the council has deemed it of importance to have her begin to enact her royal duties. After two weeks of reacquainting herself with the palace, its staff, her lessons, and the status of her kingdom, her first task is to choose a knight who will serve as her protector. In the six kingdoms, it is customary for a king and their heirs to select the knights who will be devoted to them throughout their service to the crown. Rika, now of age, is ready to make her choice.

She stands on the balcony above the Nymerian throne, a seat that has not seen use in the three years since her father has become bedridden. Beside her on her right stands the King’s Hand, Lord Nanami. On the left, the Lord Commander Toji Fushiguro, who has brought along his knights who are not yet pledged to any lords. The three of them stand tall at the forefront of the room, and below them are the select few that Rika has to choose from, bent upon one knee with heads bowed towards the floor.

Nanami motions toward the first knight in the row to step forward. The man is incredibly tall, perhaps even as tall as Master Gojo, with a large, broad frame and muscles that show prominently beneath his dark cloth uniform. His dark hair is pulled back into a knot behind his head, and he wears a large, dark scar over his left eye. He stands, steps closer toward the princess and her advisor, and shows a flashy smile up toward the balcony.

“Princess, this is Lieutenant Aoi Todo, of House Todo from the province of Norvos,” Nanami begins. “He has served in our ranks for many years, including as a young soldier in the war against Drican. He’s among the strongest of his ranks with many victorious battles and skirmishes throughout his service to the crown. He would make a fine knight for your defense, Your Grace.”

“Thank you for your service,” Rika says directly to Todo, with a soft smile and a nod.

“It would be an honor to serve you, princess,” Todo replies, standing straight. Todo wouldn’t dare admit it out loud, but he is confident despite his house being small. He believes he will be the one to obtain the position of the princess’s defender as he is the most experienced of the batch of knights standing in the throne room. Hell, even Toji believes Rika will choose the strongest knight, Todo, already mentally dismissing the remaining knights who stand before them.

After Todo reclaims his spot among the knights in line, bending the knee, the next to present himself before the princess is Kinji Hakari, a tall man with curled, short blonde hair and sun-kissed skin. The look on his face as he looks towards the princess and the King’s Hand is as confident as that of Todo’s. His name alone is worthy of being in close service to the crown, he believes.

Nanami leans close to the princess, to speak without being heard by the knight when he steps closer to them. “This is Lieutenant Kinji Hakari, of House Hakari from the capital city of Tyrosh. Though he does not have the experience of the previous knight, his house is quite wealthy and influential within the region. To offer him the position would appease their house, my lady.”

“I see,” she says, mostly under her breath. Rika knows the games of royalty and politics enough to know that granting Hakari the position would earn favor with his father, the Lord of Tyrosh, an incredibly important support to the crown’s funds. When Hakari offers her a smile and pledges to defend her honor, she sends him a smile in return with a nod of her head. “Thank you, lieutenant.”

Before another knight has his chance to step forward, Rika turns to Nanami, surprising him by lifting her hand to pause the show of knights. Though there are many more to choose from and parse through, Rika doesn’t need to hear anymore. They are all fine options, but she already walked into this room knowing who would be her choice.

“I wish for Lieutenant Megumi Fushiguro to be my knight.”

The clangs of dull swords and the footsteps of the knights, meandering about, cease. At the sound of her words, every man in the room gapes in shock.

“Princess,” Toji finally speaks up. Even he cannot mask his surprise. “Megumi? He was just knighted by the King’s Hand only six months ago, Your Grace.”

“Would a knight with more experience not suit you, princess? The young knight has seen battle only once, and even that was nothing but a skirmish.” Nanami adds.

Rika crosses her arms over her chest, looking out into the crowd of knights. Against the wall in the back of the room, among all the other knights who were available for selection, stands the young Fushiguro, frozen in his boots. He blinks at the princess in shock, unable to register what is happening.

But Rika’s voice calls out to him and that brings him out of his reverie. “Lieutenant Fushiguro, please step forward.”

With wobbly knees and shaky breaths, the knight cuts through the crowd and stands below the balcony, all eyes in the room trained on him. Todo and Hakari step aside, tongue in cheek as they incredulously glare at the young raven-haired boy.

“Princess, are you sure about this?” Toji asks, watching as his son bends at the knee before Rika. Megumi looks between his father and Rika, utterly confused, as this is an outcome he couldn’t have predicted even in his strangest dreams.

“There is no one in this room I trust with my life more than Megumi,” she replies, her gaze unwavering. When she looks down at Megumi, her smile is as intoxicating as it is bewitching.

Megumi’s eyes widen and his lip part, surprised by Rika’s words. Megumi feels a thousand emotions hit him at once, remembering the words that his father spoke to him years ago on the training grounds when he was just a soldier.

“That’s enough for today, Megumi. Take a rest.”

“I haven’t trained nearly enough. I’ll stay until I’m tired.”

“You’ll hurt yourself if you keep pushing so hard.”

“But father, I want to be a knight. I’ll have to train a thousand times harder to get there if I want to protect the royal family.”

Toji Fushiguro, the Lord Commander, watched his son swing and jab at a training block with his dull sword, alone after all the other soldiers had finished training for the day. Toji looked down at his young son with a disapproving look. “A knight? Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous for you.”

While it was true that being a soldier or a knight were positions that risked a man’s life, being close to the royal family was the riskiest of all. Assassination attempts, having to kill on command—death, death, death. That was all Toji came to learn as a kingsguard and that was the last kind of life he wanted for his son. Especially under the rule of Emperor Okkotsu, who during the war with Drican had become especially merciless. Toji feared that his son, if he were to become a knight and especially a kingsguard, would be forced to commit the kind of atrocities Toji had seen just a few years ago.

“But I made a promise,” Megumi replied, arms crossed over his bare chest glistening with sweat. “I intend to keep it.”

“To the princess?” Toji snorted in disbelief. “She’s probably forgotten all about it by now. She hasn’t even seen you in years.”

Megumi lifted his sword again, hands gripping tightly onto the hilt. “I don’t care. I gave her my word, and I intend to keep it. Whether she chooses me as her sworn protector or not, I’ll protect her.” Megumi remembered her smile, and thinks to himself: I’ll work as hard as it takes to protect that smile.

It is the same smile he sees now on the princess’s face. From his position below the balcony, he calls out to her, “Princess Rika, thank you for choosing me, Your Highness.”

“Who else would I have picked, Gumi?” She asks, her words tilting on teasing. Megumi flushes crimson as the princess addresses him so informally before his peers, masking his cobalt eyes with his dark fringe. But even so, a small grin forms on his lips.

“I am honored, princess,” Megumi says dutifully as he looks back up to meet his princess’s gaze. She sees the small smile that breaks on his lips and returns it with a brighter one of her own.

Though Nanami and Toji wish to protest her choice, ultimately it is her decision as the princess. When she feels them looking at her, she shoots them both a stern gaze as if to mute whatever words they had left on their tongues.

“He may not be the infantry’s strongest knight,” she starts, speaking to the two men beside her. “But I believe that having one man you can trust is worth a hundred men, don’t you agree?”

Toji finds that at moments like these he sees in Rika traits that had once belonged to her father—passion, determination, grit. He thinks to himself: If the day ever comes, she will surely make a fine queen.

***

Where could she be?

Megumi would never admit the extent of his worry out loud, but the heart that beats in his chest thrums frantically as he scours the palace for the princess. Why would she disappear so suddenly? And where’s Summer?

It’s only been just over a fortnight since her arrival, and already the princess is causing trouble for the young knight and her lady, Tsumiki. This spring morning, she avoided her lessons and the advisors, slipping away when Tsumiki had left the room to gather the princess’s breakfast. Tsumiki, upon noticing her disappearance, found Megumi and asked him to look for the princess, fearing the worst. Times may be somewhat peaceful now, but the kingdom has its enemies.

That’s what brings Megumi to his current search of the palace grounds. It’s only when Gyokuken leads him to the back of the palace, catching Rika’s scent, that he finds her. Behind the plush greenery of the palace gardens, he spots that familiar head of golden brown hair beneath the pink cherry blossom trees. The princess seems to be deep in thought, pacing back and forth. She wears a pale pink dress, her beauty rivaling the fresh spring blossoms around her, while her wolf naps lazily in the thick patch of grass in the shade. Gyokuken joins Summer, licking the brown wolf’s face before laying down beside her.

Megumi sighs in relief when he sees Rika, walking briskly to join her side. “Princess!”

Rika startles out of her concentration, before smiling at the approaching knight. “Good morning, Gumi.”

“Princess,” he huffs, out of breath as he stands tall before her. “Tsumiki sent me to find you. I should’ve known this would be the place you’d wander off to. At least tell me if you’d like me to escort you somewhere. I’m your knight now. It’s my duty, Your Highness.”

“I just wanted a place to think,” Rika shrugs. She crosses her arms over her chest and stares out over the stone wall into the pond, its waters clear and still, edges bordered by lily pads and deep blue lotus flowers. It’s the first time she’s come back to this lake in six years, and nostalgia grips her chest, making her feel weary. “We used to come here a lot when we were kids, remember?”

The corners of Megumi’s lips curl with fondness. “Yes. I remember you and Tsumiki used to make flower crowns for the dogs and chase them around until you’d force them to wear them.”

Rika smiles. “And you and Yuuta used to feed the puppies so many snacks they’d flop onto their bellies and fall asleep on your feet.”

Megumi would laugh at the quip, but finds himself distracted by the way Rika’s normally shining, bright gaze is dulled. Her voice sounds worn, tired.

“Are you all right, Princess?”

If Rika’s surprised by the way Megumi could tell her feelings right away, she doesn’t show it. She simply replies, a fondness in her voice, “I miss those days, Gumi.” Unspoken are the words she wishes to say: I miss Yuuta.

He knows that it’s Yuuta that she’s thinking about, as this spot was one of his favorite places on the palace grounds. He often used to sneak away and lay here beneath the trees beside his pet wolf, Ghost, to read books, sing songs, paint pictures, and daydream—to be a young boy when no one else was around to make him a prim and proper prince. Now that he’s gone, there’s an eerie stillness to the gardens, a void that has no hope of being filled.

Megumi stands beside her, and something in him tells him to reach out to her, to offer her comfort. He lifts his hand and places it atop her head, gently ruffling her hair. “We can’t be kids forever, Your Highness.”

“Rika,” she replies, looking up at the knight. “You can call me Rika, Gumi. Just like you used to.”

Megumi frowns. “I’m sorry, Princess, but I’m your knight now. I can’t refer to you so informally.”

“But I thought we were friends,” Rika pouts, her eyes wide and glistening, like a young puppy begging for scraps. “Do you call your fellow knights by their titles?”

“Only my father.”

“Then, drop the formalities for me too,” she asks. Rika wraps her fingers around Megumi’s wrists, surprising the knight. “Please?”

“As stubborn as always,” Megumi sighs, heat prickling his ears. “Just this once, Rika.”

She giggles, her grip on his wrist getting tighter. The sound of her laughter lifts Megumi’s spirits, knowing that he could bring a smile to the princess’s face.

“Well, you will have to get used to it, Gumi, since we’ll be spending so much time together.”

“Yes, I suppose as I am now your knight that we will.”

Rika releases her hold on Megumi’s hands as she stares into his eyes directly. Her chocolate brown eyes always look so sweet and honest, Megumi sometimes wonders if the warmth of her gaze would ever fade.

“Megumi… What do you think about being my sworn protector?”

At this, Megumi chokes. He takes a small step back, stuttering, “W-What?!”

“What, you don’t want to be? I thought you promised you would.” Rika blinks up at him with an exaggerated pout.

“N-No, I—wait, yes, but—”

Rika laughs at his sputtering. “Good. You wouldn’t have been able to decline, anyway.”

“Rika,” Megumi calls her name incredulously. But besides surprise, happiness swells in his chest, knowing that Rika had remembered his childhood promise to be her pledged knight. “I may be your knight but… Why your sworn protector? You don’t even know yet if I’m suitable to protect you.”

Her two smaller hands encase his palm, and her serene smile fades into a look of determination. “I want you by my side, even if you were the weakest knight in the realm. I’d trust you with my life. There’s no one else I’d want beside me.”

Megumi simply blinks back at her, overwhelmed with emotions. It takes him a moment to come back to earth. He kneels before his princess, murmuring, “Thank you, Rika…”

Rika chuckles at the seriousness with which Megumi looks at her now. It reminds her of that time, that fateful summer years ago when she was not yet even ten years old and the war with Drican had just reached the borders of Nymeria, that Megumi had made the promise to her:

Rika, even as a young girl, was often one to sneak away from lectures to play, whether on her own or with her wolf pup, Summer. While the servants knew many of the places she would go to hide away throughout the palace, only Yuuta and the Fushiguro siblings were privy to her most secret hiding places. This summer morning was one such day when a nine-year-old Rika had snuck away, giving her servants the most nerve-wracking scare. Megumi overheard the commotion from the servants while walking the palace halls with Gyokuken and became worried over his princess’s safety. His short legs picked up the pace, with the young wolf Gyokuken following his steps, until they carried him to the gardens. Just as he had thought, the princess was there outside, picking flowers and placing them upon Summer’s ears.

“Rika!” He called out, and when Rika heard his voice, she turned to him with a smile.

“Gumi, what are you doing here?”

Megumi crossed the garden to the spot where Rika was sitting, hidden away behind a bush of rose flowers. He crouched down to her height, his breathing labored from his previous haste. Gyokuken sat somewhere behind him in the grass, basking in the summer sun.

“What are you doing here, princess? The servants are looking for you.”

“I promised Summer I’d make her a flower crown today,” Rika replied, cupping her small palms around the wolf pup’s snout. Summer huffed as Rika picked up the wolf’s face, angling it towards Megumi. The top of her brown head was covered in flower petals.“Doesn’t she look pretty?”

Megumi was not one to smile often, but the princess’s smile was contagious. He sat down across from her and the corners of his lips perked up just slightly as he nodded.

“Yes, Summer looks pretty.”

“What about me, do you think I look pretty?” She asked, with an uncharacteristically shy smile.

“W-what are you talking about, princess,” Megumi sputtered at her sudden question, turning his head to avoid her stare.

The honorific made Rika’s smile turn to a frown, suddenly reminded of her grievances with her title. She grumbled, “Princess this, princess that.”

Megumi raised his brows. “You don’t like being a princess?”

“My mother said one day I’ll have to go to another kingdom and marry a prince… but I don’t want to.” She aggressively plucked the petals from the rose flower in her hand, sending the red petals fluttering to the ground. Megumi stayed silent, as he didn’t know how to reply to such a thing. He knew just as well as anyone else, even at his young age, that people like Rika were born with a duty that they could not get out of.

Rika continued to frown and pluck apart the flower until there was not a single petal left on its stem. She looked up at Megumi with her wide brown eyes and asked, “Hey, Gumi… Do you think maybe one day a princess like me could marry whoever she wanted to?”

Megumi, not one to indulge in such fantasies, sternly replied, “Of course not. A princess has to marry a prince. It’s always been that way.”

“But what if I have to marry a prince I don’t love? What if I want to be with a commoner, someone who isn’t nobility? Someone like you?”

Rika looked at Megumi expectantly; perhaps she believed that Megumi would be able to give her some comfort. Megumi instead froze on the spot, his little body feeling like it had turned to lead, simply blinking in disbelief at the princess. Was this her way of saying she liked him? Megumi instantly rebuked such an idea as quickly as he had thought it, not allowing himself to believe that it was possible.

“I-idiot, what are you talking about?!” He buried the bottom of his warmed face under his arms, hugging himself close to his knees. “You’re saying weird things, Rika.”

She pouted. “I wanna marry someone who I love, Gumi. It’s not fair.”

Megumi could see that tears began to dampen her eyelashes, and the sight of her so upset made him want to comfort her. He reached over and ruffled her hair just as Yuuta always did, causing her to lift her head and gape in surprise.

“Y-you don’t even know what love is so… Just stop crying. You’re only nine, you dummy. Don’t worry so much about it. Let’s just go back inside. We’ll be late for lessons today.”

“I… I don’t want to go back yet, Gumi,” she protests weakly, rubbing her eyes with her fingers balled into fists. “Can we stay here a little more?”

“But my father says we shouldn’t play outside anymore. That it’s dangerous now.”

Rika frowned.“But we always play outside.”

“We’re at war now, princess. What if the bad men come and steal us away? You’re the princess, you shouldn’t be out here without a knight to protect you.”

“You worry too much. We have the wolves here,” Rika shrugged. She looked up at Megumi and added, “Plus, you’re here too. You’ll protect me, right, Gumi?”

“That’s what the knights are for, Rika. And my dad says I shouldn’t be one.”

“Your father is the king’s sworn protector. He’s the strongest knight in the whole kingdom. Why wouldn’t you be a knight too?”

Megumi looked down at his shoes pensively. “I told him I want to be a knight but… He says it's too dangerous.”

“Too dangerous? What, are you scared, Gumi?” Rika chided him. Her moods were oftentimes mercurial, already prioritizing teasing Megumi over the prior thoughts that had made her cry.

Megumi turned his head back up towards the princess, heat pooling at the tips of his ears. “N-no! I’m not scared!”

“Then, you should be a knight. I know you’d be a strong one like your father.”

“I don’t wanna be like my father,” Megumi protested, tongue in cheek.

“You don’t want to be a sworn protector? But what if I made you my sworn protector?” Rika looked at Megumi with an exaggeratedly pleading gaze, playing at his heartstrings.

As gullible as he is serious, Megumi took her words to heart. His eyes widened in surprise, a blush painting the apples of his cheeks. “You really want me to be your knight?”

“Yep! If you promise me you’ll be a knight, I’ll make you my sworn protector when we’re bigger. That way you’ll always get to be by my side.”

Megumi brought a finger up to scratch at his cheek as the princess placed another flower on her brown wolf’s head. “Why me, Princess? I… I don’t understand.”

“You’re important to me, Megumi. I trust you the most,” Rika declared, pulling one last flower from the bush. This time she turned to her side, and with a bright smile, she placed it on Megumi’s head between the strands of his spiky dark hair. He feigned an annoyed face in an effort to hide the happiness he felt at Rika’s words. His father didn’t want him to be a knight but if the princess asked him to, he’d try his damn hardest.

“Okay, Rika. I… I promise I’ll be your sworn protector.”

“You pinky promise?” She asked, holding up her smallest finger between them.

Megumi linked his pinky finger with hers, nodding. “Pinky promise.”

Looking down at Megumi now, the princess reaches up to her head, pulling off the hairpin that adorns her hair. “I think you’re missing something, Gumi.”

She giggles, the sweetest sound Megumi’s ever heard, when she leans down and smooths down the spikes in Megumi’s hair, clipping down his hair with the hairpin. The hairpin is gold with soft pink sakura flowers and reminds her of that time years ago when Megumi would let her place flowers in his hair. “Still looks as pretty as always.”

“Men aren’t supposed to be pretty,” he protests weakly. Megumi, still on his knee, looks down if only to avoid the princess’s gaze, scarlet splashed across his face. One of his hands comes up to his head, fingertips brushing over the metal pin in his hair. “Is this hairpin yours?”

“Think of it as a gift for the occasion.” Although she is partly joking, offering him one of her hairpins that she had bought overseas, she does think Megumi is being insanely cute now and that a little teasing would be fun. She takes both his hands in hers then, and adds, “It’s to commemorate your oath as my sworn protector.”

Though most knights and kingsguards only make oaths to the royals when they are knighted, Megumi has been waiting for years to finally pledge his life and loyalty to his princess. Not one to waste the opportunity, he pushes through the nervousness he feels and steels himself. He looks up to his princess, directly into the depth of her eyes, and makes his vow.

“Princess Rika, it is my honor to be knighted as your sworn protector.” Rika’s teasing smile falters as she hears the conviction in his voice and sees the determination in his gaze. Megumi unsheathes his sword from its scabbard, laying it down on the ground before his princess. “Even when we were children, you were always the most courageous and kind-hearted lady I knew. It is my honor to lay down my sword for you. I will give my heart, soul, my life, whatever it is that I can, for you my lady. I swear it before the Gods.”

Rika kneels before her knight, digging her clothed knees into the ground, ignoring the dirt that sullies her dress. She brings her face level to Megumi’s. She doesn’t let go of his hands for a moment, and just as he was swayed by conviction, so is she, staring fixed into his deep green irises.

“I vow that you will always be my most trusted protector,” Rika says, “Even if one day you are one day no longer my personal knight. You will always be a part of my family here in Nymeria. And you will always be one of my closest friends, Megumi. I will never do anything to sully your honor as a knight, nor ask anything of you that would cause you pain or distress. I will never be like my father. As long as you are sworn to me, I will value you and your life as you value mine.”

“Princess…” Megumi swallows the lump in his throat, bewitched by her smile. He never had expected Rika to also make a vow to him, and his heart races in his chest as he commits the words to memory. To be cherished and valued so highly by his lady… He feels so elated his body could burst at the seams. All the times he had worked so hard over the years, training his body and mind to become a knight despite his father’s discouragement—it was all worth it if it culminates in a moment like this, of being worthy of his princess’s vow.

Megumi rises to his feet, and with the princess’s hand still within his grasp, he helps her off the ground. Her smile fades to a soft gasp as Megumi brings her hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on the back of her hand. His lips are soft and warm against her skin. And his eyelashes… so long and pretty as they flutter closed. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Rika, who is always so brazen and so bold with her tongue, turns into a stuttering fool, an uncharacteristic warmth rising to her rosy skin.

“Y-yes, well… You’re… You’re welcome.”

A soft gust of wind suddenly cuts through the air, rustling the trees and carrying pink petals off the branches. As Megumi and Rika stand bashfully before one another, a pink petal lands upon her fringe. Before she can remove it, Megumi reaches up with his free hand and removes the petal from her strands. When his fingertips brush against her face, the princess looks away.

Megumi’s gaze lands on her lips, though he’s not sure why he finds them so distracting. “Princess, I—”

“Princess Rika!” A woman’s voice calls out, one that is familiar to both of them: Tsumiki.

Megumi and Rika practically jump at the sound of her voice, the princess stepping back and creating some distance between herself and her knight. Even Summer and Gyokuken, who had fallen asleep during the entirety of Megumi and Rika’s exchange, pick up their heads and curiously look up at the maid.

For a moment, Rika wonders what that strange feeling had been, as if she and Megumi had been on another planet entirely, but it’s quickly muffled down and stored away in the recess of her mind upon seeing her lady approaching.

“Lady Tsumiki… Fine morning, isn’t it?” Rika asks timidly, knowing she had escaped under Tsumiki’s watch.

“You had me quite worried there, princess,” Tsumiki scolds her, though there’s no bite behind her words. Truthfully, she had come upon Megumi and Rika some time ago and chose to stay hidden as she watched the pair exchange vows. She didn’t have the heart to interrupt such a tender moment between her brother and the princess. Plus, as she looks up at her brother, she giggles. He does look cute with the pin in his hair.

“I had Summer with me! And Gumi too,” the princess replies. “I was fine.”

“Well, let’s head back inside. You’re late for your calligraphy lesson, Your Highness.”

Megumi suppresses a smile as Rika rolls her eyes. “All right. Will I see you after your morning training, Lieutenant Fushiguro?”

The color on Megumi’s cheeks rivals that of the flower clip in his hair, the faintest tinge of pink, and he masks it with a short cough as he brings his fist up to cover the bottom of his face. Rika had never called him by his title before so directly, and though he wouldn’t admit it, it sounded quite lovely when she was the one to vocalize it. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Tsumiki sends her brother a knowing glance as the princess turns away and begins to walk back towards the palace, her direwolf following faithfully behind. “I see you’re getting well-acquainted with the princess again, Gumi.”

Megumi scratches the back of his neck. “I… I guess so, Miki.”

She places one of her palms on his cheek, cradling his face. Megumi doesn’t move a muscle, surprised by her gesture. “Just… be sure to guard your heart, brother. I’ll see you later.” She removes her hand as quickly as she had placed it, turning to follow after her princess. “Oh, and the hairpin suits you. Very pretty,” she adds with a chuckle before taking her leave.

Perhaps she is more perceptive than he is because Megumi has no idea what has just happened, absentmindedly rubbing at his cheek with questioning fingers. Now standing alone under the tree, he turns to his wolf Gyokuken, who looks up at him with what seems like an accusatory gaze.

“What?” Megumi asks aloud, bending down to pick up his sword. The wolf simply huffs as the knight places the sword back within its scabbard. But even with jabs from Tsumiki and his wolf, Megumi couldn’t be bothered to be gloomy, not when he had had such a precious moment with Rika. He smiles to himself, hairpin still faithfully lodged within his raven strands, as he heads back to the palace, his heart full of the encouraging words from his princess.

***

Tagging: @brujaovermoxy @erentoes @starry-supernova @itsalicewickedmcgee @jaeger-xo @whore4jean @broken-freedom @raechulashleigh @fqiryspit

Thank you for reading 🥰 If anyone would like to be added to the taglist let us know!

And a meme for you :)

#eren smut #yuta smut #yuta fluff #eren fluff #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #yuta okkotsu smut #yuuta fluff #aot smut #snk smut #yuuta smut #jjk smut #jjk fluff #aot fluff #snk fluff #eren jaeger #eren yeager #yuuta okkotsu #ice & fire canon

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ageofsun · 1 year

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Higuchi: A Thot

I want to talk about Higuchi, because the last time we had an author without a skill, y'all know what we got? Tachihara

First, the briefest of biographies for irl Higuchi Ichiyo:

She was born in 1872 to a family of farmers living in Tokio. She was shy and quiet, and when she studied on a prestigious institute for poetry she developed a sort of inferiority complex, as her family was economically strained and all of her classmates were well off.

After the death of her father, her mother, siblings and her moved to Yoshiwara, a red district in Tokio, where she found the inspiration for her stories, with usually involve the struggles of poor women.

She worked at odd jobs until she found success with her short tale Umoregi (translated as In the Darkness, literal "obscurity"). She fell in love with her writing mentor, but it was unrequited.

Her most celebrated works include Nigorie (translated as In Muddy water, lit. muddy creek), Juusan'ya (trans. The Thirteenth Night, lit. 13th night of the 9th month, a crescent-moon watching festival), and Takekunabe (trans. Growing Up, lit to compare height).

She produced over 25 stories in the period between 1892 and her death of tuberculosis at age 24 in 1896.

We can find clear traces of Higuchi-sensei in bsd Higuchi: her inferiority complex (do I really belong in the Mafia?) and unrequited love (which I consider an interesting twist in the 'senpai please notice me' type of character), and I think we could make the case for a similar backstory (Higuchi-sensei's father entered vassalage -sp?- to a lord the year before the feudal system was banned, then became a goverment official but died drowning in debt; so middle class but plunged in poverty, as good a reason as any for bsd Higuchi to enter the Mafia).

But that's not why I'm here for. I'm here for HER SKILL. What is it? Has it manifested yet but it's a non-combat type of skill so she never uses it? Or is she going to be our window into seeing a skill manifest for the first time (oh god I hope so)?

Higuchi-sensei's works are mostly tragedies: Takekunabe is the story of the last days of a girl before she's old enough to be sold to a brothel; Nigorie is the story of a courtesan stabbed by a former lover; Juusan'ya is about a woman married to an abusive man; Yamiyo (trans. Encounters on a Dark Night, lit. mooonless night) is a couple's failed attempt at revenge. But from what little I could find online, her stories have a "this is just how it is on this bitch of an Earth" quality. Not exactly defeatism but more like status-quoism.

All this leads me to believe, maybe foolishly, that some tragedy will befall bsd Higuchi and her skill will manifest (putting money on something happening to Akutagawa in front of her rn). It will be enough to save Akutagawa/herself/what-have-you, but it will have no effect whatsoever on their relationship: senpai will always be too busy thinking about Dazai to notice her. Status-quoism at its finest.

Now, what will her skill be? Let's search Higuchi-sensei's works for clues.

And damn, this woman liked her Thing as Title: we have Umoregi (obscurity), Nigorie (muddy creek), Juusan'ya (13th of 9th month), Yamiyo (moonless night), Outsugomori (New Year's Eve), Wakaremichi (crossroads), Yamisakura (flowers in dark -or depression), Wakarejimo (spring frost), Samidare (early summer rain)... I could keep going and going.

Considering bsd Higuchi's first fight was against Tanizaki's light snow, I'd love to see her skill being based on a weather title. However, it's unlikely because her most famous novel (which earned her praise from, maybe meaningfully, Mori Ougai) was Takekunabe (to compare heights, so maybe giantification??)

#bungou stray dogs #bsd meta #bsd Higuchi #idk I'm just throwing this out there #what do you guys think?

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byandforthepoetss · 2 months

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There’s this thing I want. I want love, but I want it pure. I don’t want just texts and hands on my thighs, I want something more. I was gentle affection, dancing in empty car parks while it’s raining with the stereo cranked all the way up playing a song we get to call “ours”. Give me sincerity in front of an open hearth in the lounge. Let me be your muse, and I hope you’re a writer or an artist like me. Love me more than I love you, which would be a very great deal. I don’t want pretence, I don’t want these stupid situationships, unrequited pining. Give me love at its finest. Romance at its best. Give me what my father could not give my mother

#love #romance #romance isn’t dead but I’m still looking for it #bring back dim lights and swaying in the kitchen even when there’s no music #say my name like a promise #tell me you love me and mean it #and mean that your Ilys to be a statement #not a fickle opinion that changes like the weather #say you love me and mean it when you tell me forever

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sunghoonalter-archived · 2 years

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Idol pairing: Jay x fem!reader

WC: 1.3k

Genre: angst, hint of fluff

Warnings: implied death, mentions of blood, crying, hanahaki disease, unrequited love.

Synopsis: two weeks after you passed away, Jay finds your final letter addressed to him.

A/N: oh how I hope this is good, half the fic is the letter itself. If you don't know what the hanahaki disease is, you'll find out today! Feedback is highly appreciated(especially rbs)♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

There isn't a greater pain than losing someone close to you, someone you loved unconditionally, trusted with your life. Jay never thought he'd have to go through that pain, especially if it was you he'd lost.

Finding your lifeless body with light blue blood-drenched flowers surrounding and peeking out of your mouth was the most devastating sight and the reason he couldn't sleep. He'd picture it every time he closed his eyes, resulting in tears streaming down his face. He lost his best friend.

Two weeks after you passed away, your parents allowed him to visit your room one last time. He saw it as an opportunity to take a few things as a way to remember you, like your charm bracelet he had custom-made for you. If it was one thing he always did, it was spoil you as often as he could, sometimes buying matching BFF jewelry with the intention of showing others you didn't feel that way about each other and that boys and girls could be friends.

And that was the cause of your death. He only saw you as his best friend and not the way you wanted him to. With every passing day, your condition worsened yet you refused to tell him the truth. And when you succumbed, you asked your parents not to tell him as your dying wish.

♡

He sat on your bed, leaning back on his forearms to take in the sight but constantly having to beat his chest from the violent coughing. Various posters of idols you always dreamed of seeing live, a few drawings and paintings you made as well as glow-in-the-dark star stickers covering the walls and ceiling. He could feel tears building up as he remembered laughing at you for getting excited about your favorite things, always saying how cute you were when you spoke of things you were passionate about.

His eyes traveled across the room before he laid himself flat on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, just like the days he'd come over and you two would talk for hours, laughing and playfully hitting each other. He remembered how you'd always find a way into his arms, sneek your head onto his chest, which in that moment caused him discomfort. He remembered the tiny humming noises you'd make when you were comfortable, ending with him snuggling against your head.

It's what best friends did… At least that's what he thought.

He turned his head towards your study desk, intrigued by what seemed to be a white envelope peeking from underneath a few of your books. He sat up before getting up to fetch it. As he lifted your books to retrieve it, he was slightly surprised by the wax seal on the back.

He picked it up, turning it over to reveal his name on the front. A letter addressed to him by his deceased best friend; closure at its finest.

He moved back to your bed, letting out a severe cough before clearing his throat. He sat down, taking in a deep breath as he opened the letter. To say he was afraid of its contents was an understatement. What could you possibly have to say to him?

Dear Park Jongseong

He pulled the neatly folded letter out, setting the envelope down next to him and slowly opened the letter, heart slightly aching from the first three words.

By the time you read this, I must already be gone. I've never written a letter before so I really hope you can understand me. But I know you will, you were the only one that ever did. Through my most cryptic statements and transparent lies, you always knew my feelings. And yet you somehow never noticed my biggest one.

I don't know when it started. I don't know when everything suddenly began to change.

But I know that, ever since then, looking at you felt like a blessing. That being in your arms felt like home and that I belonged there.

Your smile became the eighth wonder of the world. Your eyes held more stars than any galaxy could and I swore I could get lost in them. Your skin became a special kind of sun-kissed, always glowing in the sunlight when we were outside. The sound of your voice became music to my ears and all I wanted was for that music to play for hours.

But every day, when you weren't around, I began to cough regularly. I felt like I was in heaven with you and I felt like I was in the worst of hell alone. I brushed it off as flu since you never got sick and were probably immune to it. Yet it wouldn't stop, days, weeks even, it just wouldn't stop.

And that was when I realized. When the first speck of blood and the first petal came together, I realized that I'd fallen in love with you.

Every time we were together, my heart ached when you called me your friend when I wanted to be so much more. I could feel the thorny stems wrap themselves around my ribs when I heard you speak of another girl. I could feel the petals climb up my throat when another girl showed interest in you. I stopped being able to handle it. I couldn't.

Holding petals and even whole flowers in my hands reminded me that you would never love me the way I love you. You only love me as what people called philia, whereas I love you in the way that people called eros.

We were destined to remain friends and yet my heart wouldn't allow it. My heart diluted my head with only thoughts of you. My heart would've made my body walk barefoot in the coldest of winters to you if it could.

Now, before I end this letter and say my last goodbyes, I want you to know that what happened to me is not your fault. You are one of the most precious, most beautiful souls ever created, falling in love with you was almost inevitable. You were everything I wanted, everything I needed and it's my fault that I brought you this pain. I knew I could never be with you so I chose to suffer through it all to be there for you because my entire world became you, but it seemed that I didn't realize that my choice would eventually become selfish and I'd do the very thing I wanted to prevent.

I'm sorry for falling in love with you. I'm sorry for ruining our friendship with my stupid feelings. But I'm thankful for the years you spent with me, understanding me when no one else could and always being there for me even in the times I pushed you away.

I love you in this life, the next, as well in the infinite lives that would go on until the end of time and beyond

Love Y/n L/n

Jay's tears flowed uncontrollably down his cheeks, choked sobs echoing against the walls as he held the letter close to his chest.

P.S. my flower is in the envelope, and is the one thing I want you to do.

"I'm so sorry for killing you," he choked out as he began to cough once more. "It is my fault."

He reached for the envelope like you told him to, gently pulling the delicate petal out and holding it gently in his palm.

"F-forget me not?"

His voice was hoarse as he coughed one final time, specks of blood covering his hand. As well as a wilted petal identical to yours.

He would never forget you.

He didn't have a choice.

💐🌼🌷⚘️🏵🥀🌺🌹🍁🌻

@hee-pster is it good enough?😅

#enhypen jay #jay enhypen #enhypen angst #jay angst #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #enhypen headcanons

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mytalemyworld · 4 months

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hi I would like to know more about Turkish series like Fazilet hanim ve kizleri ( like Yagiz and Hazan’s relationship) can you suggest more Turkish series like this which is similar to Yagiz and hazan relationship? Unrequited love mainly. If not Turkish any other language also fine

If you would like to watch a pining male lead for a long time but get the girl in the end, my suggestions are these:

1-Güneşi Beklerken (pining period: approximately 20 episodes)

Bad boy & good girl, enemies-to-lovers trope at its finest. There's a love triangle (in fact a square) here too, but they are teenagers so it makes sense since everybody has a stupid hormonal phase at that age.

2-Kadın (pining period: approximately 40-50 episodes, yeah, lots of patience is needed)

The male lead falls for first and then harder. It takes a long time for the female lead to accept his feelings. She is a widow with two kids and sick. Then it turns out that her husband actually isn't dead, so she is torn between her ex-husband and this new love interest.

Also there are other tv shows that I know but didn't watch completely so they could be boring or problematic: Kuzey Güney (two brothers-one girl love triangle), Dudaktan Kalbe (two cousins-one girl love triangle, adapted from a book, revenge-to-love trope), Zalim İstanbul (two cousins-one girl, again, I really don't recommend this show, it's so bad, but it's up to you in the end)

As for non-Turkish tv shows, there are only these two I can think of right now:

1- Love Like the Galaxy (Chinese Drama, one of my all time favorites)

He kind of falls in love with her at the first sight but is too late to confess his feelings. And she slowly falls for him. An epic journey, lots of angst, laughters, full of great and intriguing characters. Definitely a must watch.

2-Sound of the Desert (Chinese Drama)

While the female lead yearns for the calm and rich Master, the fierce warrior General pines for her. I was rooting for the latter so if you end up liking the Master more, this suggestion won't be valid anymore. *lol* Okay, still a good drama.

#questions #answered #drama recommendation

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bitchinbarzal · 5 months

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LUNA YK WHO IS SUCH AN UNDDERRATED COUPLE?? actually i have multiple with reasons why

(in no particular order)

1. mila & finn

MY MANS WAITED YEARS FOR HER. he listened to her talk about other guys and her relationship problems while being fully in love with her. he is absolutely and completely devoted to her and despite the fact he KNEW she wasn’t in love with him, his feelings for her never left, not when they were kids and sure as hell not when they’re adults. he didn’t let her scary ass brothers stand in the way of being with her. she was his first love and just like her to him, he’ll be her last. the absolute epitome of childhood friends to lovers and i love them with everything in me.

2. henry & atlas

the enemies to lovers, well at least on atlas’s side. the man pining for her, not being able to get her off of his mind after she was yelling at him thru the penalty box for fighting her big brother. her constantly rejecting him but finally giving him a chance and it being the best relationship she has ever been in. he didn’t let his rivalry with her brother stand in his way of being with her. the secret relationship after they start dating because atlas doesn’t want to disappoint or upset her brother for dating his rival and falling in love with them. her being the first girl he’s ever truly been IN love with. ugh, they’re just *chefs kiss*

3. bailey & noa

miscommunication trope at its finest, miss luna. normally, i hate miscommunication trope, but girl you write is SPECTACULARLY!! noa thinking bailey is cute and flirting with him and thinking he’s ignoring her when in reality he just can’t hear her and then her confronting him and apologizing IN SIGN LANGUAGE THAT SHE LEARNED FOR HIM when she offends him? and her defending him to ANYONE AND EVERYONE that has anything negative to say about him, especially if it’s about him being deaf. NOT TO MENTION, NOA LITERALLY STARTING A CHARITY FOR DEAF KIDS?? bailey’s buddies is so cute and the fact that noa did it and not bailey just made me fall head over heels in love with this couple even more. in conclusion, i need me a girl like noa.

4. kai & otis

another childhood friends to lovers that i absolutely adore with everything in me. i feel like it was mutual pining when they were younger, but didn’t actually confess they’re feelings/start dating until they were like 17. the fact that kai always stood up to him and comforted him when bullies were making fun of his weight and made it so the bullies were more afraid of kai than they were of anything else. and the fact that kai got otis a dog, despite the fact that she hates dogs, because she wanted otis to have another coolie because coolie’s otis’s best friend. ugh them <3

5. rory & sawyer

did someone say unrequited love? boy groveling and traveling across the world ON HIS DRAFT DAY to go to the love of his life who is studying abroad? oh yes, i did. these two are lowk like a genderbent finn & mila to me. the fact that rory had a huge crush on sawyer as a child and was devastated when he moved to colorado but their moms still talked so they did too but then fell out of touch when sawyer got too busy with hockey and the draft and rory was too busy with school and looking at studying abroad for a year but on his draft day, RORY WAS THERE and she couldn’t hide her feelings from him anymore and then HE WENT AFTER HER TO MF SCOTLAND TO TELL HER ITS MUTUAL. ugh, i can’t with these two, they’re wayyyyy too underrated and need more love.

6. sutton & luca

best friends brother, older sisters best friend, secret relationship, older!girl & younger!guy. even after sutton moved, luca still managed to slither his way into her heart thru iris. the way sutton didn’t want to start anything with luca because she didn’t want to hurt/betray iris like that but not being able to deny her feelings for luca. luca being patient with her until she was ready to be with him even though they both knew she was ready, she was just scared. i miss them so much 😭

7. astrid & kasper, aka the F1 driver

i don’t know a lot about them other than the fact that they have a daughter. but the way astrid fell in love with someone from her moms field of work and is constantly there supporting him with their baby girl is just too mf cute and i feel like we’ve all forgotten about them.

1. Mila & Finn have my heart 🥺 the fact Finn listens to her no matter what.

2. Henry & Atlas are so soft. It’s like they’re so soft surrounded by a world of fire. That fire is her brothers.

3. Bailey & Noa will always be some of my favourites. The fact Noa did not think twice about sign language and made Bailey’s buddies and the fact that two of her babies are deaf too and she’s not upset she’s like 🥺🥺 they got it from dad

4. Kai & Otis are together because Petey and Brock couldn’t

5. Rory & Sawyer the plane scene will always get me 🥺🥺

6. Sutton & Luca always thinking of iris DESPITE being in love

7. Astrid & Kasper are the best the fact that he encourages women in motorsport and their daughter being there to see it all too is just 🥺🥺

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ladydeadrabbit · 11 months

Text

Bitter, Evil Hearts [Eskel]

Summary: "Unfortunately you are wrong, Ser dwarf. Tonight will be different. Tonight I shall sing a fresh new ballad about not Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, or even Cirilla, the princess of Cintra- but tonight, I shall tell you a story of Esmeray of Carsten and Eskel the Witcher- another couple bound by destiny and fate and heroic justice! Our story begins long before the Great War, decades before Geralt ever even met Yennefer or claimed his Child Surprise. In fact, this story begins long before Geralt is ever even contracted to save Princess Adda. And its title: 'Bitter, Evil Hearts.'"

Notes: Like all of my fic's that I publish on here- I originally had this fic published on Quotev. It's written to somewhat be in the format of a one-shot series, but each chapter is pretty much connected to the other. Unlike on Quotev, however, I will be combining a lot of the chapters together so they will be much longer than the og story. Basically, each chapter will either be based on a specific event from either the game series or the books- so if you are a Netflix-only witcher fan, this fic is definitely not for you.

Chapter 1

'Verily I say unto you, the era of the sword and axe is nigh, the era of the wolf's blizzard. The Time of the White Chill and the White Light is nigh, the Time of Madness and the Time of Contempt: Tedd Deirea'dh, the Time of End. The world will die amidst frost and be reborn with the new sun. It will be reborn of the Elder Blood, of Heh Ichaer, of the seed that has been sown. A seed which will not sprout but will burst into flame.

Ess'tuath esse! Thus it shall be! Watch for the sighs! What signs these shall be, I say unto you: first the earth will flow with the blood of Aen Seidre, the Blood of Elves...'

--Aen Ithlinnespeath, Ithlinne Aegliaep Aevemien's prophecy

"Master Dandelion, Master Dandelion! You promised us a ballad!" A little girl with bright red hair chirped excitedly upon seeing the famed poet getting up from his seat- where he previously was playing a game of dice with a coupe of dwarves. The little girl, somehow keeping up with the poet's long strides, looked up at him expectantly.

Dandelion, like most poets, was tall, lanky, and pale- adorned with only the finest silks and extravagant embroidery.

"Yes, yes! Of battles and brave warriors!" Another child called this time a little boy, from a table over.

"-Of sorceresses and magic!" The same little red-headed girl chimed in as the poet reached the far end of the tavern that had a small stage next to a hearth alight with flame.

"-Of unrequited love!" Dandelion added upon reaching said stage and swiveling around on the heels of his boots to face the small crowd that had begun to gather.

"Silence, brats! You've not been in this world for long, so it is no surprise your heads are hollow," a bald dwarf with a beard that reached his knickers yelled at the children. Dandelion did not know said dwarf, but had just finished playing a round of dice with him and found him rather pleasing to be around- most dwarves usually were, anyhow. "This is Dandelion, friend and companion of Geralt of Rivia! Who might he sing of if not the famed witcher..."

"Unfortunately you are wrong, Sir dwarf. Tonight will be different. Tonight I shall sing a fresh new ballad about not Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, or even Cirilla, the princess of Cintra- but tonight, I shall tell you a story of Esmeray of Carsten and Eskel the witcher- another couple bound by destiny and fate and heroic justice! Our story begins long before the Great War, decades before Geralt ever dreamed he would be famous- no, this story happens before Geralt ever even met Yennefer, or claimed his Child Surprise. In fact, this story begins long before Geralt is ever even contracted to save Princess Adda. And its title is: 'Bitter, Evil Hearts.'

"In the fall of 1232, our beloved Witcher Geralt decided to return early to Kaer Morhen, fearing the quick advent of winter," the poet went on. "The Witcher was angry. The final stretch through northern Kaedwen was usually calm. But not this time...he was twice ambushed by bandits. Then one night wolves attacked and killed his horse- only being added at the last minute by the sorceress Esmeray of Carsten, who Geralt had learned to be Eskel's lover on her way up to Kaer Morhen herself.

"And although the help and company of the sorceress were appreciated, Geralt had grown accustomed to the kindly grey mare he had traditionally christened Roach, and it was because of that fact that the Witcher remained bitter and silent for the rest of their travel up to Kaer Morhen. And to make matters worse, at the foot of Kaer Morhen the two encountered a camp.

"Like all witchers, he believed the fingers of one hand would suffice to count the people who knew the way to the witchers' fortress- Esmeray being an exception. Geralt guessed Eskel had decided this winter, of all winters, to introduce his lover to the rest of the family. And oh, what a time to introduce her to the rest...."

000

It came as no surprise to Geralt that Eskel found Esmeray attractive. She was tall, almost as tall as Geralt himself, and thin- but a healthy sort of thin; with long, straight auburn-red hair that went into a braid down her back. Matched up with milky-white skin and hazel-green eyes. Geralt would've been lying to himself if he said he didn't like the way the shadows of the early morning sun ran down smoothly over her high cheekbones and the hollowness of her jaw- or the way her dark, narrow eyebrows raised or pinched together to convey her emotions as she talked-

But Geralt refused even her pleasant company to lighten his sour mood. Oh no, the witcher was dead set on being bitter. Call him petty, but he had just lost his mare.

"Is that a camp?" Esmeray's voice broke through the witcher's train of thoughts like a needle in a haystack- no wait, that analogy didn't make any sense-

"Huh?" Geralt dumbly questioned before following Esmeray's outstretched finger with his eyes- and sure enough, there was a rather large camp of what looked to be Kaedwen Soldiers camped out near the bank of the river the two found themselves traveling along. "What the hell?" Geralt muttered as his yellow gaze bored into the heads of the soldiers going to and fo.

"Listen," Esmeray reached over and grabbed Geralt by his forearm. "Those are Kaedweny soldiers, and I'm not sure what they want, but I think you should tell them to leave. This forest is private property, no?" Geralt only grunted in response before trudging his way up to the camp- Esmeray lingering some ways behind him with her mare, Elara; who was a beautiful dirty-grey horse in a lavish saddle.

"Perhaps we should return to Caingorn. I have no desire to perish in this wilderness forsaken by the gods..."

Geralt heard a man curse and complain- 'Glad I'm not the only one in a bad mood'- and looked to see a young nobleman dressed by a woman adorned in a tight dress and heavy makeup.

Geralt felt his medallion vibrate, and seeing how far away Esmeray was, he knew it wasn't because of her. The woman with heavy makeup next to the nobleman must've been a sorceress herself.

"Silence, Merwin. They are but wolves," the sorceress scolded the nobleman, now known as 'Merwin.'

"Wolves that fearlessly attack an encampment thick with campfires. I ask your forgiveness, mistress, but these are 'but' wolves like I am but an elven showgirl," a heavy-set dwarf grunted from beside the sorceress; and Geralt, indeed, heard wolves in the distance. Probably the same little bastards who killed Roach-

"Did anyone ask for your opinion, mister Bringgs? No? Then start doing what you are being paid for, and keep your hopelessly cowardly opinions to yourself. We would all be safe if your boys manned their stations instead of constantly playing dice while bathing in drink. Now take away this corpse before its stench fills my tent," the sorceress bitched.

"Cane I ask what happened?" Geralt finally spoke up from the sidelines, startling the group. They must've not known he was there, blasted witcher foot-falls-

"Wolves killed the boy...Nothing unusual about it happening in the camp...It's commonly known that wolves, the cursed beasts, love flames so much they'd bathe in them if they could," the dwarf, Bringgs, answered.

"Enough, Bringgs. Who are you, sir?" Merwin glared at Geralt, crossing his thin arms over his doublet.

"Geralt of Rivia, Witcher."

"And that?" Merwin nodded in the direction behind Geralt and said witcher turned to find Esmeray coming up with Elara in tow.

"Is that? It is! That's Esmeray of Carsten!" The sorceress squawked in a tune far too early in the morning to be using. "But- Ewww! What is she wearing?" The sorceress crinkled her powdered nose as Esmeray finally came to light.

It was still too early in the morning for there to be good lighting- the sun only just now peaking over the mountainside shading the group.

"-In any case!" Merwin cut in. "I am prince Merwin Ademegn of Aard Carriagh. Kind of you to visit, finally. We've been awaiting your response all day."

"Response?" Esmeray cocked one of her beautifully dark eyebrows as she came to a halt beside Geralt- her fingers still gripping the reins.

"Well hello to you too," the sorceress smiled wickedly as Esmeray's eyes widened.

"Sabrina-?!"

'Sabrina,' as Esmeray had called her, laughed before waving away Esmeray's shock at seeing her.

"Friend of yours?" Geralt turned to the ginger sorceress.

"Go on now, Esmeray, introduce us," Sabrina's perfect smile widened.

"Oh- right. Geralt, this is Sabrina Glevissig, sorceress and adviser to King Henselt....we actually went to school together, for a time," Esmeray explained. "But never mind that, what are you doing here, Sabrina?"

"I could ask you the same. Shouldn't you be in Tretogor running errands for Philippa?"

Geralt felt tension grow between the sorceresses, and one glance at Merwin told him he felt the same.

"-But anyhow...Come see me at my tent..." Sabrina's brow eyes trailed over to the bald prince. "Merwin, I assume you won't mind my handling this matter?"

"No, though I will want to know what you agree," the prince answered.

Sabrina nodded to the prince before turning on her heel and rounding into her tent, but before Geralt could follow, Esmeray drew the witcher off to the side.

"Geralt- I'm not sure what Sabrina wants or is doing here, but whatever the case- be on guard. Sabrina is not to be trusted."

"Are you not coming with?" Geralt furrowed his brows at the sorceress.

"No," Esmeray clenched her jaw; shooting a glare at the large blue tent Sabrina had gone into. "I came here to visit Eskel and to take a vacation away from work- Sabrina is clearly here to stick her nose where it doesn't belong. Find out what she wants and then meet me up at Kaer Morhen."

"Do the others know you're coming?"

"Eskel invited me, I'd sure hope he'd at least told Vesemer," Esmeray shrugged before glancing over to Geralt. With a quick goodbye, the two parted ways temporarily.

As soon as Geralt had disappeared from Esmeray's field of vision, the sorceress continued along the bank of the river until the massive fortress came into view.

Kaer Morhen was unlike anything the mage had seen before. Like a stacked cake, the stone fortress wall's loomed and layered over each other until they seemingly touched the skies above. The sun had now fully risen and for a long time, Esmeray just stood there slack-jawed at the sight before her.

At least, until she was rudely interrupted.

"Welcome to Mistress Sabrina's tent," a flamboyant blonde-headed man greeted Geralt as the Witcher stepped inside the seemingly modern tent- only to see that it was much larger on the side. The inside of that tent held a room that looked like it had been cut out of a castle- with stone walls, marble flooring, and even a stained glass window.

"In case you're wondering, this is an illusion," Sabrina called from her place at a vanity mirror.

Unlike Esmeray, Sabrina had brown locks of hair cropped just below her ears- which she held back with a headband similar to the one Geralt usually wore. The sorceress wore a tight, short red dress with black pin-stripes and a pair of long gloves to match her belt.

"Everything here's an illusion?" Geralt raised a brow.

"Yes. But, my dear Witcher, it's an illusion of rare quality. In fact, it barely differs from reality."

"If that's the case, then I wished Esmeray would've conjured something like this up when we camped out together last night."

"Yes, well...Esmeray is a different breed of the sorceress," Sabrina seemed to scowl as she spoke this statement. "No matter. I assume you're returning to Kaer MOrhen for the winter? And what of Esmeray? Is she, too, returning with you this winter? I didn't know witchers took on lovers, y'know, with you not being able to feel emotions and all...."

"You're only half correct. I and Esmeray are returning to Kaer Morhen for the winter, though, we're not a couple."

'Though I wished we were,' Geralt almost muttered.

Sabrina smiled at this statement and stood from her place in the mirror before making her way over to the witcher.

Once more, Geralt found himself enthralled by the gaze of another beautiful sorceress- not that he planned on sleeping with either. Although, if he had his way...

"Right, enough small talk, we have important business to discuss," Sabrina snapped Geralt from his daydream. "You've heard of the Curse of the Black Sun, witcher?"

"The curse of the mad mage Eltibald. I believe he started the whole mess that led to several dozen nobly born women being murdered or imprisoned in towers," Geralt nodded, his thoughts traveling to his first love...

"Eltibald was no madman, and there is no doubt the 'women' were not entirely normal," Sabrina defended haughtily.

"Madness, normality- it's a path steeped in reality. Tell me something specific."

"Autopsies were performed. The mutations witchers undergo are but a minor, clinical operation compared to those caused by the Curse of the Black Sun. The skulls and spines of these girls contained red sponges of some kind. Their internal organs were in disarray, some missing altogether. Everything was covered in moving cilia and pink and blue meat scraps. What say you to that?"

"Nothing. I've seen humans with eagle talons instead of hands, with wolf fangs and eyes. People with additional joints. All products of mages fumbling with magic. It's no proof of a curse. We digress. Why are you here?" Geralt was suddenly feeling very jealous of Esmeray right now. At the moment, she's probably already at Kaer Morhen unpacking her things, getting ready for a hot bath.....while Geralt had to stand around talking to some lunatic with too much makeup.

"A girl affected by the Curse of the Black Sun is inside Kaer Morhen. Princess Deidre Ademeyn, elder sister of Merwin."

"What do I have to do with this?"

"Don't play the fool. That girl is a serious threat to you. Surrender her to me and no one will get hurt," the sorceress demanded with her hands on her hips.

"I'll think about it," Geralt muttered before exiting the tent- only to be immediately stopped by prince Merwin.

"I see you have spoken to miss Sabrina. However, I head this expedition, remember that," the prince taunted.

"I will," Geralt rolled his eyes.

"Are you able to read?"

"I am."

"Then read this scroll," the prince then pulled a parchment from the inside of his blue doublet and handed it over to Geralt.

"To my barons, vassals, and all free subjects..." Geralt looked up from the paper and glared at the prince.

"Go on, go on," the prince urged.

"Let it be known far, wide and by all, that I hereby declare Merwin of Caingorn to be our loyal and trusted servant, and to be loved by us, this rendering all who cause him grief liable to incur our Royal wrath. Henselt, King of Kaedwen."

"Good enough. Understood?"

"Indeed, though 'grief' is spelled differently," Geralt said smugly as he kept his eyes on the paper.

"I see you are quick. So you accept that if the witchers wish to travel freely and unmolested about Kaedwen, they should not cause me grief, no matter how the term is spelled," the prince snatched the paper out of Geralt's gloved fingers.

"You don't seem like anyone's causing you grief," Geralt crossed his well-built arms over each other. A reminder that he was a skilled warrior where the prince was....well...a prince.

"Not you, no, but that may change. And my patience has its limits."

"Riiight, well I'll be going then," not wasting another second, Geralt turned his back to the prince and made his way up to Kaer Morhen. Maybe if he spoke to Vesemir he could get more insight as to what was going on exactly...

'Verily, there is nothing so hideous as the monsters, so contrary to nature, known as witchers for they are the offspring of foul sorcery and devilry. They are rogues without virtue, conscience, or scruple, true diabolic creations, fit only for killing. There is no place amidst honest men for such as they.

And Kaer Morhen, where these infamous beings nestle, where they perform their foul practices, must be wiped from the surface of this earth, and all trace of it strewn with salt and saltpeter.'

--Anonymous, Monstrum, or Description of the Witcher

Esmeray was pissed- no, inraged- no, pissed; and all because of the stupid witcher in front of her.

The redhead sheathed at the man who would not let her cross the river.

"I said beat it," the young witcher, who Esmeray assumed through context clues to be Lambert.

"Didn't you hear me the first time! I'm a guest! I was invited here by Eskel!" The sorceress continued to pout.

After Geralt had gone into the tent to speak to Sabrina, Esmeray and her steed, Elara, attempted to make their way up to Kaer Morhen....only to be stopped before she could even cross the bridge by (who she now assumed) Lambert.

Esmeray had heard plentiful stories of the youngest witcher from Eskel, and in almost all of them, he was immature, quick to anger, and mouthy. All three are a combination of things Esmeray hated in a man.

Although supposedly young, Lambert didn't look much of it. Sure, his face was like that of a toddler, but his dark hair seemed to already be receding into that of a widow's peak. On top of that, he held the gaze of a lame duck.

"Lambert, quit being an ass and let her pass," came the familiar voice of Geralt, and Esmeray turned to find said witcher approaching.

'Geralt's already done talking to Sabrina? Damn. How long have I been standing here arguing with Lambert?'

"Hey, wolf," Lambert greeted with a quick change of attitude. "You know this wench?"

"Yes, now quit being an ass and let her pass."

At Geralt's demand, the now-confirmed Lambert sidestepped and allowed the sorceress to pass- of course, not before she turned back to Geralt.

"Thank you, Geralt. Please come speak to me once you're done here. I wish to know what Sabrina had to say."

Geralt gave a nod to the sorceress as he watched her and her mare trudge through the shallow river and across to the other side.

"So, who else are we to expect for this winter?" Lambert asked, turning back to face the other wolf school witcher.

"I was just about to ask the same."

"From what I know, Vesemir and Eskel...plus a few others...." Lambert's yellow cat-like gaze slid over from Geralt to glare at the campsite set up a few hundred yards from them.

"I know. I've been to their camp. What are you doing here, though?"

"Making sure those bastards stay out of Kaer Morhen- thought that wench that came through here was one of them, trying to make an excuse to get to our base."

"Have any of them tried to make excuses to get through here like that before?"

"A couple of pompous pricks showed up with an escort of dwarf mercenaries. Obviously, I couldn't let them pass- but other than that, no, they haven't tried something as elaborate as that yet, but you can never be too careful. Especially around those sorceress types. Are you sure we can trust her?"

"She aided me against a pack of wolves, and on top of that, she showed me a letter addressed to her from Eskel inviting her here. I think I know my own brother's handwriting. In any case, you are aware that those 'pompous pricks' are carrying a letter of safe conduct from King Henselt?"

"Not interested," Lambert shrugged. "This is Kaer Morhen, royal edicts mean nothing here."

"I hope that's not how you put it to him."

"Didn't have a chance to. The archespores sprouted first, quite a few seem to have planted roots over the summer, I always thought they grew on the graves of the murdered. Some bad wind must've carried the spores to the valley. It's full of them now."

"Damnit, Lambert!" Geralt raised his voice. "I wish you would've told me that before I let Esmeray cross! What if she runs into them before she reaches Kaer Morhen? You know if she gets hurt Eskel will have our heads!"

"Calm down wolf," Lembert raised his arms up in defense. "She's a big girl, I'm sure she'll be fine," Lambert laughed but Geralt didn't hear- he was already storming his way through the water and onto the other side.

Although Kaer Morhen was visible from where he stood- the witcher still needed to go through a small patch of wood to reach the Keep. He could only hope that the kind sorceress hadn't run into too much trouble on her way up there.

000

When Geralt finally got up to Kaer Morhen, the wolf was greeted by the oldest known witcher (and to whom he saw a father) Vesemir.

"Greetings, Geralt. Good thing you're here," the old witcher said.

Vesemir, like many of the other witchers, was tall and well-built- although worn from age, the Witcher didn't have any visible scars on his face. Though, what he did have on his face was a ridiculous handlebar mustache that encased his entire upper lip.

"Greetings," Geralt said in turn.

"How's the path?" Vesemir attempted to make light conversation- Witchers were never known for being conversationalists.

"Tolerable, nothing groundbreaking. What is going on here, Vesemir? And have you seen Esmeray?"

Vesemir let out a long drawn-out sigh.

"We've got a bit of a problem. The princess of Caingorn arrived two days ago claiming her envious brother and an evil sorceress were pursuing her. She's asked for our protection- as for Esmeray, she's up in the tower setting up her room."

"Good. I was worried that she'd run into trouble on her way up here. But this princess....she's got her castles all wrong. No knights in shining armor here."

"She was in bad shape, hungry, cold. We didn't have the heart to drive her off."

'Typical. Vesemir's heart has always been too big for his own good...Now, look what we're dealing with!' Geralt thought with a roll of his eyes.

"And Eskel has been acting strange..." Vesemir continued, entirely oblivious to Geralt's sass. "I made him contact Esmeray, see if she could...oh, I don't know, help in some way? The princess fell asleep with her pack of dogs in the courtyard. Tried to get her a bed but she said she preferred to sleep outside. Before she went to bed she said one more thing- that one cannot flee one's fate."

Geralt listened attentively to the old man's words as he continued.

"Later, Eskel told me a story. Some 20 years ago he saved the prince of Caingorn's life. He called the Law of Surprise, and as they say, destiny proved fortunate- unbeknownst to the prince, his wife was with child....."

"I'm not sure that was entirely fortunate...." Geralt muttered.

"So you've heard of the curse...In any case, on a day when the sky was dark as night at high moon, the princess gave birth to a girl," Vesemir crossed his arms and leaned his back against one of the stone pillars at the entrance of Kaer Morhen. "As far as I know, Eskel never returned to claim the child promised him by the prince. For some reason, ever since then he's always taken the long way around Caingorn. So, now we need to deal with the brother of Eskel's unexpected child, a group of mercenaries, and a sorceress bent on dissecting the woman she suspects of being a mutant. As if that's not enough, the brother carried a letter of safe conduct from King Henselt himself, so we can hardly just drive them all away."

"I know, so what do we do?"

"My advice? Talk to Eskel, she's his surprise. We'll meet back at the ford Lambert is guarding. Think it through, wolf, I'll want to hear your opinion."

"Fine," Geralt nodded. First and foremost, he decided in his mind, he was going to speak with Esmeray before going to Eskel.

When Geralt finally made it to the room in the tower, he found Esmeray in the midst of doing her makeup.

"Well Geralt," Esmeray said, applying dark red lipstick to her lips. "What is it exactly that Sabrina so eagerly wanted to speak to you about? Does it have something to do with that Deadra girl?" She turned around from her vanity to face Geralt.

"Yes. Deadra is the princess of Caingorn and, supposedly, she was born under the black sun. Sabrina wishes for us to hand her over to them so that they might dissect her-"

"And so Deadra thought to find refuge here with Eskel," Esmeray finished.

"So you already know Deadra is Eskel's child surprise, then?" The witcher raised a brow as he watched the sorceress take a stand from her place at the vanity mirror.

Esmeray, not bathed and clean, wearing a long, elegant dark green velvet dress with puffy red sleeves and collar. {Like this, only a dark green}

"Of course. I've known of Deadra for some time now. I am, after all, Eskel's lover. He confided in me many issues that have troubled him- including the surprise child he was afraid to claim."

"And what do you think of that? Of him not coming back for her?"

Esmeray simply shrugged.

"I thought nothing of it, of course. I am a sorceress, Geralt, but I'm not crazy. I don't believe in fate or destiny.....although, now that Deadra is here...I really should have pushed Eskel a bit harder in going back to Caingorn. Maybe then none of this would be happening," Esmeray's hazel eyes dropped to the floors before rising back up to meet Geralt's. "Speaking of which, have you seen Eskel?"

"No, I haven't, but if I know Eskel- he's avoiding the issue altogether and hiding out somewhere. I'll go ask Vesemire, you should probably go talk to this....'Deidre' girl. See what she's all about."

Esmeray nodded in agreement.

"Sounds like a plan."

'Intolerance and superstition has always been the domain of the more stupid amongst the common folk and, I conjecture, will never be uprooted, for they are as eternal as stupidity itself. There, where today seas surge, will one day be deserts. But stupidity will remain stupidity.'

--Nicodemus de Boot, Meditations on Life, Happiness and Prosperity

Deidre was a simple-looking girl with a wide face, square nose, and unplucked eyebrow; Esmeray initially took note of upon finding the girl asleep amongst a pile of hay near the horse stables. Next, she took note of the fact that the 'girl' was not much of a girl anymore. Despite her lack of curves, it was clear to Esmeray that Deidre had to have been somewhere close or around the age of 18 or 19.

Throwing the girl only one more glance, Esmeray decided she had had enough of the sight before her and cleared her throat- startling the girl in the hay out of her slumber.

"Oh! Greetings, Esmeray. I'm Deidre. Visemir spoke of you," Deidre said, shooting up and shaking the hay from her cropped blond hair- that did little justice to her wide face.

"I've heard a few things about you too...." Esmeray replied, putting on a bit of a classic sorceress air- which wasn't something she entirely liked to do, but if Deidre was going to be staying with them, Esmeray was sure going to teach her a thing or two about being a lady.

"If you mean from that lying shrew Glevissig-"

"Calm down," Esmeray raised a hand. "I don't intend to judge based on rumors."

"Then you are to interrogate me?" Deidra glared at the sorceress.

"Call it an interview, if it makes you feel better- but I'm just trying to figure out a way to resolve the situation. Believe me, I want Sabrina gone just as much as you do."

Deidra seemed to relax a little at this statement and waited patiently for the red-headed sorceress to continue.

"What do you want from Eskel?"

"Are you jealous?" The girl taunted with a smirk.

"Just answer the damn question," Esmeray was not amused by any of this. Not even five minutes with the girl and she was already getting on her nerves.

'How on Earth am I going to last a winter with this girl?' Esmeray thought to herself.

"I want him to stop fleeing from his destiny," Deidre answered plainly.

"And you think his destiny lies with you?" Esmeray raised a brow.

"As opposed to you, yes."

"Alright then....how did you find Kaer Morhen?"

"I always know where Eskel is, unlike you, apparently. I merely need to think about him."

Esmeray glared at the girl at this statement.

'Ohhh yeah, this is gonna be a looooong winter,' Esmeray continued to think bitterly to herself.

"Last question and I'll be out of your hair. Deidre, do you know what Sabrina and your brother want from you exactly? Geralt has told me a little, but I'm still confused about the whole ordeal."

"Obviously," Deidra rolled her eyes, "Sabrina wants to place my sweet little brother on the throne of Caingorn. My brother, who is entirely subservient to her, and who as the prince of Caingorn will have a vote on King Henselt-s council-"

"Enough politics, I want something else."

"Alright, then..." Deidre took a deep breath, and she spoke again, she seemed somewhat....younger. More innocent. More like a victim- which Esmeray had no doubt she was. "Sabrina believes me to be cursed, tainted in my mother's very womb. She believes me to be a monster."

Despite the clear rift between the two women, Esmeray reached out and placed a gentle hand on the shorter girl's upper arm.

"I want to hear your side of the story."

Deidre met Esmeray's eyes.

"I was 19 and happy when Sabrina showed up at the castle. My father, who always preferred Merwin, was old and ill by this time, so he could no longer bother me. My brother had been away at King Henselt's court and I could handle most of the courtiers. I was at a tender age and fell in love. His name was Roben. I even considered a morganite marriage....girlish fantasy...."

Esmeray listened carefully.

"Sabrina arrived with my brother, whom she already had on a short leash. She observed me, interrogated servants, and tested the situation. My father's company of Knights treated me like a daughter. I had always liked hunting and took part in manhunts for bandits. She needed proof, some spectacular way to defame me."

"And in your carelessness, you provided her with that proof," Esmeray put two and two together.

Deidre nodded and continued.

"Sabrina decided to provoke me. She seduced Roben using magic so powerful that his mind became confused. He suddenly developed an intense fear of animals, especially of the dogs he bred...I wanted to help him....it was then I discovered that mages found it hard to cast spells in my presence, and that spells previously cast gradually subsided if I was near. I went to the small chamber Roben inhabited just above the kennel....and I found Sabrina there...I admit I was enraged, haunted to tear her apart, but she was too quick. The hag flew out the window on a broom...Roben was left drooling, whimpering like a child.

"Within an hour he had ceased gibbering, and within two he understood what the witch had done to him. I thought all was in order and I could leave him. I wished to settle the score with her and entered the castle. I know not what happened, but the spell grasped Roben once more as soon as I was gone. He began feverishly seeking Sabrina. In his wildness, he entered a pen occupied by a very aggressive hunting hound."

"Did he survive?"

"Yes, though mentally he became a two-year-old child, a child that feared animals intensely...Sabrina blamed the accident on me. I swore then that I would kill her. I carry a blade, lest I get the opportunity to use it."

"I understand, thank you for sharing this info with me, Deidra, and....you're more than welcome to stay with me once we get this situation sorted out. I have a cozy place in Oxenfurt."

For the first time since their meeting, Deidra smiled at the older woman, and Esmeray saw not an ugly girl- but a brave young woman.

Once Esmeray was done speaking to Deidra, she only briefly spoke with Geralt in regard to where Eskel was. And it was there at the mouth of Kaer Morhen that it was decided that and agreed upon for Esmeray to teleport to the cave in which Eskel hid in [she briefly passed it on her way up to Kaer Morhen, so she knew where it was located] to speak to him while Geralt would go and deal with Sabrina and Deidre's brother, see if they could come to an understanding.

000

Bones of some sort greeted Esmeray's heeled feet at the mouth of the cave. She took a shape breath at the sight but continued along the old miner tracks that ran into the dark damp place.

From what Esmeray knew of the place, the mine near Kaer Morhen was at least as old as the fortress. Once, probably, a rich source of iron, ore, and what-have-you now a ruin. Esmeray seemed to have briefly recalled a memory of Eskel telling her that the witchers sometimes used the tunnels to gather ingredients for their witcher potions- of course, when pressed as to what ingredients they found down there, Eskel would change the subject.

Eskel was not afraid to shed light on his life as a witcher and did so openly with Esmeray, but when it came to the secrets of the witchers potions- it was his duty as a witcher to keep those to himself, not even with his own lover would he peep.

It did not, thankfully, take Esmeray long to find Eskel once in the cave. Her lover must've heard or smelled her coming, for she found him waiting expectantly near a small campfire.

"Esmeray," he called her over, and once she was near, he did not hesitate to pull her into a kiss.

Esmeray's lover, Eskel, had to have been around 6'foot something, for he stood at least a few inches taller than Esmeray herself [who was already quite a tall woman]. The sorceress rested her filed nails on Eskel's wide chest before dragging them along his broad shoulders and into his dark locks. Of course, Eskel was as pale as the other witchers, but unlike them, he had a sort of natural rose-tone to his found nose and cheeks.

Eskel wore, on this fine evening, a black jerkin with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of matching trousers, and boots that almost reached his knees.

"Eskel, my darling, this is fantastic- and I'm always happy to see you, but we need to talk about Deidre," Esmeray said upon breaking the kiss.

"Can it wait? I haven't seen you in three months," Eskel grunted into the fabric of Esmeray's collar.

"Well....I....suppose Geralt can wait-" Esmeray was pulled into another intimate kiss.

Despite his depressive mood, Eskel's kiss is sweet but greedy, in hot pursuit of a distraction. And a distraction Esmeray was all the willing to give. A moment later, the witcher is in the process of pulling the strings of her corset, one of the many useful tips he had learned over the course of their relationship, and in another moment, Esmeray found the expensive fabric of her dress on the cave floor.

Rather than annoyance or anger, relief floods the sorceress when Eskel's calloused hands start kneading her breasts- but it's not enough, and so she shakes the witcher's hands off and begins pulling off his jerkin.

Their feverish kisses continue until they're both completely stripped of their clothing and lying on a makeshift bed of said clothes next to the fire. And despite the chilled air of the cave, and the cold hard ground, Esmeray revel's in every moment of it.

000

"Care to tell me something about Deidre now?" Esmeray's voice echoed along the cave walls.

"Ugh....it was about 20 years ago. I rescued Deidre's father from a gang of bobolaks. I must've heard too many of Vesemir's stories about the eternal Law of Surprise...." Eskel's voice trailed off as he nuzzled his nose into the shoulder blades of Esmeray's bareback. Currently, the couple was still in the nude hiding out in the mining tunnel next to the fire.

They've made love for hours and from the entrance of the cave, Esmeray could see the sun setting. They really should get back to Kaer Morhen soon, Esmeray thought.

"The prince, spattered with bobolak blood, looked at me and said: 'you saved my life, witcher. As I am a debtor, say what you wish in return,'' Eskel continued with hesitation. "All I could think of was the famous line: 'you will give me that which you know not that you have! I shall return to Caingorn 6 years from now to see if destiny acted in my favor.' I never went back to caingorn, as you know, but then rumors started circulating about the Curse of the Black Sun, and there was confusion."

"And what do you know about the Curse of the Black Sun?" Esmeray turned over on her side to look at Eskel. Said witcher sitting up from his spot and Esmeray watched with mild fascination as he began to dress.

"I did take an interest in it and even bribed a certain wizard to let me look at documents drafted for the council of mages."

"You know you could've asked for my help, all mages know each other."

Eskel shook his head.

"It was years back before we even met. In any case, it seems the mages screwed up as usual. Which is why Sabrina Glevissig was chosen to examine the princess of Caingorn. It was hatred at first sight, or so I've heard. Something about a guy....."

"Yes, I seem to recall Deidre mentioning a lover..."

"It only got worse. Sabrina concluded she had enough proof to consider Deidre a cursed mutant and to subject her to 'real studies.' As I'm sure you've guessed, Deidre had no intention of being examined, not least because she was a princess. She persuaded several of the prince's warriors to get rid of Sabrina. All hell broke loose at the castle in caingorn. Many died, and there was some priestess among the corpses."

"And that is note-worthy because....?"

"It's not. From what I know, she landed in the wrong place at the wrong time. After it was all over, Deidre fled the castle."

"Which leads the pursuit here and now," Esmeray concluded, standing up from her spot and slipping on her now dirty dress. Normally, she wore light-colored clothes, but she did not regret her decision in wearing the dark green velvet fabric tonight. "We need to start heading back, I sort of left Geralt to deal with the problem. But we still need to decide what to do with Deidre. I believe she's an innocent girl- but she can't hide out here forever, none of you can continue to guard Kaer Morhen."

"I don't know," Eskel sighed. "I understand Vesemir's viewpoint, but I'm not keen on surrendering her to the sorceress. I know she'd meet an unpleasant end."

"She is your child's surprise, Eskel. Even though she's all grown, this is still your call."

"I know, though at this point the matter concerns you as well, we are.....y'know...together."

"I love it when you get all flushed. Fine. I'll consider it, but let's be going now."

Eskel nodded, somewhat relieved he wouldn't be dealing with this entirely on his own, and put out the small campfire before guiding the sorceress out of the dark tunnels.

000

When Esmeray and Eskel finally emerged from the cavern, they found the rest of the witchers by the river bay, and when they approached, Geralt was the first to speak.

"Okay, we're all here, I think it's time we decided on what to do."

"We need to figure out what to do with Deidre and her brother. Eskel wants everyone to say their piece. This concerns our safety and Kaer Morhen. A mistake could cost a great deal," Esmeray was the next to speak.

"I'll start," Vesemir announced. "I think we should stay out of this, meaning we can no longer shelter the girl. The reason is simple: if we meddle and Sabrina informs Henselt, Kaedwen will be off limits to us for decades."

"I don't really care for Deidre," Lambert stated next. "But I detest the fact that some blue blood who rules three coal hills comes here demanding obedience. This is Kaer Morhen, royal authority doesn't extend here. I think we need to drive away the noble and the sorceress."

"What about you Esmeray?" Geralt asked, turning to the red-headed woman.

"Deidre is a grown woman, she can take care of her own- not that I don't feel any sympathy for her, but I think she should come down here and sort matters on her own with her brother. How about you Eskel?"

"I'm torn," the golden-eyed witcher admitted. "I understand Vesemir....on the other hand, I owe the girl, I feel some kind of bond...I'm incapable of being objective. I'd like to hear your opinion, wolf," Eskel turned his gaze to his brother.

"We can't let the sorceress get her hands on the girl. It wouldn't be right," Geralt admitted.

"So what do we do about Sabrina and the nobleman?" Vesemir prompted.

"Deidre must give up her claims. That should satisfy Merwin. And the sorceress, well, she'll have to live with our decision..." Geralt answered.

"Either that or I'll turn her lovely little head into something to place on the mantle," Lambert muttered.

"Lambert, save your morbid lines for later. Let's try to resolve this peacefully," Geralt scolded.

"Alright. Eskel, Geralt, go see our princess. We'll wait for you here," Vesemir ordered.

000

"We've decided to help you," Geralt announced upon finding Deidre pacing back and forth along the path just outside of the Keep.

"Thank you. That means a lot to me," Deidre ceased her pacing and lowered her gaze as the witchers stopped just before her.

"We need to settle things with your brother. You have to go to the camp with us and tell him that you relinquish your claims to the throne and estate," Eskel explained.

"Thus stripping Sabrina of support," Geralt added.

"A high price, but I see no other choice," Deidre nodded, lifting her gaze to meet with Eskel's for the first time.

"That's settled then," Geralt sighed, happy that it was almost all over.

"I'm glad, Deidre, really," Eskel said earnestly.

It did not take nearly as long to get back down the river as before, and when they did, the Witchers and ladies set off immediately to the Kaedweni camp. The soldiers of the camp noticed their approach almost immediately, having been watching them across the river for some time, so by the time they crossed the bank- Merwin and Sabrina were already awaiting them.

"To what do we owe this procession?" The Weasley-looking prince grinned smugly.

"Prince Merwin, there's a way to resolve this peacefully," Esmeray stepped forward. Naturally, as a sorceress, she was used to dealing with royal brats.

"To feed the wolves while saving the sheep," Deidre stepped up next.

"Very well. I shall hear you out," Merwin agreed, gesturing for them to continue.

"Forgetting anyone?" Sabrina emerged from her tent, a furious expression on her face.

"No. This is strictly Merwin's business. We will speak with you too, Sabrina. Later," Geralt, also came to stand next to Esmeray.

"Merwin, I am prepared to relinquish my claim to the throne and the lands of caingorn, I am ready to give up my title as the princess," Deidre explained.

"Unconditionally?" Deidre's brother raised a brow.

"No, but I have only one. You will strike me from your mind. You will cease pursuing me and return home, taking this witch with you."

"Silence, woman!" Sabrina snapped. "Merwin, you must see through this. This is a trick."

"We will draft the necessary documents here and now, witnesses present. All will be clarified," Esmeray defended.

"Merwin, don't believe them. Remember how Roben ended?" Sabrina persisted.

"That was your doing, Glevissig, and your magic!" Deidre bared her teeth at the brunette.

"Merwin, order Bringgs to arrest Deidre. Only then will your title be safe! Without that, you will live in fear, always."

"I shall kill you witch!" Deidre shouted as she drew her blade. The next few moments were all a blur. One moment Esmeray was standing next to Deidre, and the next she found herself cradling Eskel's head on her lap- blood gushing from his face and staining her dress. Her healing magic is basically useless in the presence of Deidre.

000

The entire tavern fell silent. Everyone ceases their movement and chatter to watch and listen to the bard's tale.

Dandelion, knowing full well that all attention was on him, continued- though, with a lot more of a solemn tone than before.

"Eskel's unexpected child, Princess Deidre Ademeyn, born in destiny's shadow....she could have changed her own fate. Abandoned vengeance in favor of forgiveness, demonstrated kindness and humanity...The mercenaries were massacred in the fight at the camp. Was it worth it? Were the death of Nerton Bringgs and his mercenaries truly the lesser evil? No one can know that...In any case, Merwin and Deidre ruled jointly, leading caingorn during the best time in its history. Several years later a large crow arrived at Kaer Morhen carrying a letter bearing the seal of the princess of Caingorn. Eskel threw it into the fire without reading it. And not long after that, the relationship between Eskel and the sorceress, Esmeray of Carsten, fell apart. It wasn't until the arrival of Ciri at Kaer Morhen did Esmeray and Eskel see each other again- but that is a story for another time."

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callmerhynner · 10 months

Text

A hopeless romance,

(I just kinda wish you were gay, by: Billie Eilish)

synopsis: A story of a getaway driver falling head over heels for the aromantic arsonist. Unrequited and bitter.

tags: song oneshot, angst, poorly written, confession fail, unrequited love, runaway criminals, oc x oc, delusional love, reality slap, best friends to enemies, mentions of smoking, disney-esque realization, delulu, angst x2

author’s note: might make a part 2 idk. my pen tip broke and i cant draw on my tab😭😭

⇱♥︎⇲

🎶 “Baby, I don’t feels so good” six words you never understood 🎶

“Spark, i don’t feel so good…” Swift confesses, the two were laying on the car’s hood and resting their eyes under the stars. Spark, his best friend and unrequited lover, gives him a glance before going back to resting them.

“We have a job in 10 hours, don’t get sick.” The ravenette bluntly puts. Swift sighs and nods along, this has been how he’s treated him their entire friendship but it’s been hurting him so much these past few years. It’s been bothering him more and more each day.

Memories flood his heterochromic eyes, remembering all the many times the stoic arsonist has left him to deal with all those hurtful experiences all on his own.

🎶 "I'll never let you go", five words you'll never say (aww) 🎶

The man dawning a low ponytail has never showed appreciation for the driver, who would openly take a bullet if it meant to protect him. He showed no interest, and no desire to try and connect each other like they did during their childhood years. There was one thing he would do to satiate each others ‘connection’.

Sex, no strings attached, they would roam each others bodies. Maybe it was to empty out their pent up aggression, their fields don’t show much time or value in meeting other people they could have a sexual relationship with, after all. But, Swift being the hopeless romantic that he was, daydreamed about the alternate universe of them having such a bond to reciprocate his upheld feelings.

🎶 I laugh along like nothing's wrong, four days has never felt so long 🎶

He knew it wasn’t true, it was never going to happen. Spark has never shown interest in romantic connections or relationships, in general. All he could do was respect it, not wanting to invalidate his own feelings, and laugh along to each and every thing he’d been through.

Swift beat himself up over his stupid hearty emotions. He knew that Spark was never going to reciprocate anything, but he still had the ability to continuously fall deeper and deeper inlove with him. Stupidity, at its finest.

He’s been with him so much that every thing he does has become almost routine. It’s been quiet a thrilling ride because of their dangerous occupation but soon, when the open hours close, it’s nothing but comfortable silence. Nothing new and nothing strange..

🎶 If three's a crowd and two was us, one slipped away (hahahahaha)🎶

Spark only had one ambition, to rebuild an agenda of a system he wants to uphold. He’ll burn down continents to have himself be a ghosting haunt for people of power. To be able to control someone powerful’s actions and life, he wants that.

Swift was never part of that ambition. He was his only considered friend, but that’s only because he was the only one willing enough, stupid enough, and impulsive enough, to run away with him. To be his partner in crime.

To be a victim of his crimes. Even from childhood.

🎶 I just wanna make you feel okay🎶

Swift looked up, eyes distant and staring at the shiny stars you could only see in an urban landscape, he reminisces of something. A promise that Swift can’t help but be loyal to.

If they were to be caught, Swift, the victim and the getaway driver, he will take all the blame. Spark will run a free man, without consequence. He will do anything for that man he calls his best friend, anything.

A terrible decision that he can’t remember making. But chooses to follow. Chooses to be a punching bag for his so-called love.

He was a pawn to him, and he allowed it.

A stupid decision, but one he doesn’t regret.

🎶 But all you do is look the other way🎶

Anything he’d do to gain his interest would fail or end in pointless shambles. He was basically a pet to the arsonist. He’d be either treated or punished if he was to do something that caught his attention.

He’d either be given a sexual favor or some sort affectionate gesture, or manipulated to become his puppet until he says he’s learned his lesson. Those punishments..it would never be pretty. Never was it brought up, the most fucked up things he could get to get away with, he’s made the driver do it to try and get his approval.

It never mattered to Spark what he gave Swift as a reward nor punishment. All he was wanted was a comrade to leverage him to his goal and if a fuck-buddy was what Spark thought was what the driver wanted, he was willing. It wasn’t like it was important or anything.

🎶 I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay🎶

Swift can’t keep up. It was thrilling, trying to chase after him, until he realized that he was chasing nothing. It wasn’t a matter of time or effort, Spark was a brick wall.

All he’d do is kill himself if he tries chasing after him. All those heartbreaks, those broken promises, and all those cracked memories. It was impossible, but he chose to try and reach him from the top. To try and climb up to him, not realizing he was inside the wall, barricaded.

Foolish, utterly stupid.

🎶 I just kinda wish you were gay🎶

Swift feels the car hood bump down and back up, Spark had walked off to god knows where. The hopeless pawn forced himself to try and not stare over at him waking off into the deeper parts of the forest, probably to go grab a fruit to bite on.

“I really need to quit…” he sits up, biting a cigarette and lighting it. If it wasn’t the romantic torment killing him, it was his lungs absolutely turning black from his smoking habits. “Fuck. That.” He replies to himself, huffing out smoke, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed.

🎶 Is there a reason we're not through?🎶

The nicotine must be slowly drudging him because tunnel visions started and Swift was starting to see things in the smoke like a Disney Movie prediction. He saw two things, from the right was two children with similar builds from the two men’s kid bodies. They were running around, being playful and being boys.

The children were roughhousing, wrestling inside what looked like a living room, until the child that resembled Swift pushed Spark’s child body into the floor, hard. Spark was whimpering with his body shaking, he was in pain; and not even a second after, Swift ran up to carry him out of the living room, worried and running for his life outside of the smoke’s clouds.

And then there’s the left, another smoke cloud resembling Swift, this time in his young-teenager body. The teen was in a loud party, whilst just leaning himself on a wall with a cigarette next to an open window. The cloud-Swift was bored until Spark’s cloud popped out of the window to lure him out. Swift followed, body language looking more excited.

He hopped off the car and his eyes widen and take the cigarette out of his mouth and fan out the cloud images. “STOP IT!” He yelled, irritated at the emotional torture he’s stuck having to handle. “I can’t.” He huffs, sitting on the lightly wet grass, defeated. “Not this. Not now. Not again.”

🎶Is there a 12-step just for you?🎶

“That man is shit. And you know it.” He huffs. “Get him out, he’ll just…” he slams the back of his head on the nearest part of the car he could reach, “he’ll use you, Swift. You know that.”

“But what if he can change?” Here comes the internal battle.

“He won’t. He never has, and seems like he never will.”

“What if I just do what he wants. He’s always liked that.”

“Each and every time, you do that. Even that isn’t enough to please the fucker.”

“Time can change a man. That’s inevitable.”

“I never even got a thank you after throwing my life away to be his damn getaway driver.”

“HES THANKED ME ENOUGH! He’s..cared, he’s given me rewards”

“And punishments?! HES TREATING ME LIKE A PET!”

“He only gave us what I asked for! I wanted thrill, and a life of action, he gave that to me!”

“And uses me for everything?! Is he a princess??”

“He has priorities!”

“IM NOT ANY OF HIS!” Swift punches a dent into his car’s front as he huffed and panted after yelling his closing statement. He was so deep into his argument that he didn’t even notice that he was pulling on his hair, so much so that he had some of his grey locks in his hands already.

🎶Our conversation's all in blue

11 "heys" (Hey, hey, hey, hey)🎶

“Hey, crazy. Don’t wreck the car. Dipshit.” Swift looked up at the voice, it was his crush walking up to him with a glare to kill a man. He walked up to his form, eying him up and down before grabbing the drivers wrist and pushing it off the car.

“Hey…Spark.” The driver rubbed his hand and wrist, the punch and the arsonist’s rough push sure made the pain start to feel. “How much of that did you..umm..hear.?” Embarrassment rushing in, watching Spark’s cold eyes check on the car’s conditions.

“Shut it.” Be replied back, with his usual blunt and sharp voice. “I have good ears, Swift. If you have something to finally confess, say it now or I’ll kill you before you can.”

Swift cleared his throat before standing up, his hands fiddling inside this hoodie pockets. He looked back down, minds starting to fight again. The need to finally say his heart out to him and the want to keep it all

down, the fear of ruining what they have eating him up inside.

“I’m waiting.” Spark says, sitting on the car hood, giving him his undivided attention. The blushing man scratched his neck in thought, looking down and praying for some sort of sign to confess the obvious or act dumb and suck it all up. “Swift.”

🎶Ten fingers tearin' out my hair🎶

His left hand, subconsciously, went up to start grabbing at his hair. His right went off to follow, the voice or reason and the words of his heart were fighting for their life by this point. Spark watched all of this with his usual resting bitch face, waiting patiently for the man to get his mind in order.

“Swift.” He tried to get attention, but the man continued pulling on his hair. His gray hair starting to get pulled and that’s when the arsonist slapped the man in the face, as softly as he could without injuring him. “Stop.”

🎶Nine times, you never made it there🎶

“Just spit it out, or I’m leaving.” Now he was handed an ultimatum. “10 seconds. Make up your mind because I’m not acknowledging this ever again.”

“That’s not fair!” Swift tried to argue, looking at the calm man with wide eyes. “Atleast give me a day!” He just sat there with his eyes glaring in response.

“9 seconds.” The years of practicing to confess had now suddenly become deceased. He couldn’t even remember his name, it was so nerve wracking.

“8 seconds.” Swift just stood there, defeated. His mind was racing, trying to find some sort of way to finally decide. This stress was making him get a headache, by this point it was basically impossible to think things through without going rampant.

🎶I ate alone at seven, you were six minutes away🎶

“I..can’t.” Swift muttered, looking down in shadowing defeat, one could argue it was only a display to try and gain some sympathy. Too bad Spark is a sociopathic mastermind. As a man whose known him all his life, this was a common fact; he wasn’t trying to gain sympathy, he is now an emotional mess beyond the brink of help.

“7 seconds.” No mercy.

“You know that..” the driver continues to look down, wanting to cry but body so tortured it was almost impossible. Under the circumstance, he was as close to ‘loyal until death’ as he could get.

“6 seconds.”

🎶How am I supposed to make you feel okay🎶

Tears threaten to break through the driver’s heterochromic eyes, he was never good with pressure. He was the one who knew what to do with a plan, the strategist to his crush’s suicide missions. Wanting to just fade away, Swift takes a step back to breathe as much as he could as the pressure was choking him dead.

The eyes of this man was swirling in terror.

He had tried to accept that he was never gonna be given a chance with the man he finds so hard to let go of, all to go in vain. Love was a topic he hated to mention; it was never a problem he wanted. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a way out that could save his sick mind to swim away from his unrequited desire.

“5 seconds.” the man in the turtleneck states, glaring dagger into his skull.

🎶When all you do is walk the other way?🎶

“I LOVE YOU, OKAY?!” he finally yells out, the pressure on his throat now being shoved down his throat like a pack of razors. This hurt him a lot more that it’s should’ve, more than it normally should. More than the two could possibly wonder.

The two remained quiet, the pain spreading around the driver’s chest at the final display of loyalty. Meanwhile, the other was having a hard time trying to figure out how this could give him the upper hand in his twisted mind. Their dynamic was something reminiscent to one of a predator and its prey, one was vulnerable and the other was hungry for it.

And so, with that, the predator feigned surprise and soon forced out a hearty laugh. Feeling humiliated, the driver fists up their hands until his small nails could make rivers of red drip down his palm. He could remember his laugh as it just reminded him of what a devil incarnate his heart just had to belong to. Exactly three seconds of laughing, the arsonist-for-hire finally ceases, laughter dying out for him to finally reply to his forced confession.

“I don’t need that.”

🎶I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay🎶

The world around him just shattered, he knew it was coming but that small spirited heart of his was still hoping for an unanswered miracle. There was small flick of light in his head, trying to delude him into thinking that what they’d been doing for all these years—running away together, trusting only each-other—was more than being wanted criminals. He wished to ever god and deity that he didn’t agree to an unchangeable life of crime for nothing, that, at the least, the moments of life or death he’s shared with wasn’t with a stranger. That his childhood friend was still there.

But no, the man in front of him wasn’t his childhood friend. The man facing him was a stranger, he knew nothing about this man. He looked like his dearest best friend, but he wasn’t. He was his shell.

He’s been seeing everything through to gain that friend’s love back, for all these years of running away from cops and bounty hunters. But he can’t.

🎶I just kinda wish you were gay🎶

He can’t gain the love of his best friend, he wasn’t there.

“Oh…” he says, eyes darkening and face showing a neutral expression. A still sound of crickets chirping surrounded them, one eyeing the other down with mused judgement; the other, hearing his crush heart wilt away.

“What? Did you expect me to swoon over you?” the man responsible for breaking the other’s heart says, tilting his head with crossed arms. “You’ve done nothing but burden me.”

“That’s not true.” the man clenched his hand into a fist, breathing out through his nose.

“You talk all that after you punched a dent into your own car. Those big emotions always get the better of everything.” As Swift looked at the car, eyes straining slightly at how strong he was gritting his teeth. Unbeknownst to him, a sadistic glint sparked in the others eyes as he watch his anger rise through.

“That’s isn’t true.” another gruff mutter.

“I can’t name one time you’ve done something that’s ever helped me. You can’t prove it, you dont even show it—“ Swift could hear the evil smile on his voice. That was it—all these feeling were pouring hard, feeling his chest squeeze and making him swallow every shard of his broken heart until his throat was cut open. It was too much.

“Are yoU THAT STUPID?! My parents are getting mixed into your horseshit because of you dragging me into this.!” he finally manages to yell out his feelings, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist until his knuckles turned white. The other was stunned, this was the very first time he’s ever had the guts to yell at him. He’s put him in various torturous situations and Swift has held in every scream he tried to squeeze out of him, to be honest, it drove the sadomasochist up the wall of how much he could take without screaming or crying.

“You agreed to this, i didn’t drag you in. Don’t blame it on me because i don’t want to hold your hand like toddler.” The stunned man finally unfroze, glaring holes into the driver’s eyes with his resting bitch face.

“Are you serious?! You told me you got caught doing some stupid shit and needed to run—running away without knowing anything fucking else! You expected me to let you go alone?!” He replied with a tone of which was telling of how obvious the reason was. Over the bridges of dead bodies and burnt buildings of their crimes, this reason was always what stuck to him all throughout. Him not knowing this simple answer angered Swift even more, more than he expected.

“Maybe I did! Who gives a fuck?!” was all the other could give, looking away—trying to hide how threatened he was starting to feel—those blue and green eyes staring inti his soul.

“I give a fuck! I gave a fuck all these fucking goddamn years, but you?! You’re doing those because you’re a goddamn masochist!” The man slammed a hand onto his own chest, before pointing, accusatorially, at the arsonist. “And when things go south, you come crawling back for me to pick all of your goddamn shit up!”

🎶To spare my pride🎶

Denying everything felt right, seeing the stranger’s face contort and frown at his words were like food medals awarding him for all the shit he’s had to go through because of his masochistic suicide missions.

“Why?! Are you that FUCKING desperate?!!” Feeling a small desperation to be right, the man yells out and slaps the pointing finger.

“IT WAS BECAUSE YOU WERE MY FRIEND! THATS WHAT FRIENDS FUCKING DO!!” was the response he got, a small silence bit at each other’s backs, The driver was breathing do heavily that his shoulder were going up and down rapidly. He’s held that in the moment he took a step out of that window, the first time he helped him run away from the people hunting him-both of them, down. The air was still, the tension was high and the ship their friendship resided on had long since drowned in the sea of life.

They were never friends, the realization hit the man with heterochromic eyes, the light in them fading at the sight of the pathetic husk of a man facing him.

“Everything…” a whisper escapes his lips, heart pacing and chest heaving. Had he been this delusional this entire time?

How could he let it get this bad?

🎶To give your lack of interest, an explanation🎶

“Everything I’ve done, all of it…it was for nothing.” Swift says with the look of enfacement decorating his features. Those bright eyes that lit up when he was praised by the man, that bright contagious smile he wore all the time to show his friendly nature, all gone. Down the drain as fast as they were always put on.

“Swift…look-“ The stranger tries to rebut, no. That thing didn’t deserve to speak any more than he already has.

“Hans Quinton Maeri, or whatever you call yourself, i quit.” He pushes him away, taking steps back, fists clenches as his jaw was pushing at each other.

“You can’t quit. You can’t—after everything you’ve done, they’d kill you on sight. You don’t expect them to welcome you with open arms arfter all the blood on your hands, right?” The exasperated emotion was evident by the sense of his tone, a hand tries to place onto his shoulder—his tell when he was going to persuade him into something—but he jerks his body away.

“I mean that I quit. I quit everything. You, this, life—everything.” Swift’s hands waved around him and pointing at everywhere, he wanted to leave everything away to burn, so the thing in front of him has to deal with all it’s consequences. “Nothing has treated me right after the damage you put my life through,

🎶Don't say I'm not your type🎶

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The stranger asks, furrowed brows and a visible burn of judgement in his corneas.

“You know what it means.” he huffs, turning his head to face straight forward and walking off to get into the car.

“You’re not seriously thinking that killing yourself is gonna solve all the shit you’ve been hunted down for, right?!” It grabs at his jacket sleeve, making him stop at his step. Swift pulls his arm back, making a disgusted face at his touch. “You can’t be serious!”

“If i have to die so you can finally be put into a goddamn cell. So you can go crazy with the same thoughts you keep spewing out to me.” An uncharacteristic monotone voice says aloud to him, the soul he had just a moment ago had died the moment he was both rejected and slapped away from his delusion.

“If those bounty hunters cant kill you, they’ll hit the next best thing.” The stranger says, each word coaxing a smirk out of it’s own hideous face.

“You? perfect, exactly what i was aiming for.” Swift responds, taking a step to side when the stranger started laughing maniacally. What was he laughing about? Did it not hear him?

🎶Just say that I'm not your preferred sexual orientation🎶

“What the fuck are you on?!” He yells out, the urge to punch the thing was so tempting, almost stupidly tempting. But he won’t, he never will, be as petty as it was.

“This is so pathetic! Do you seriously not know?!” The thing continues to laugh, arms crossed at it’s stomach. With how much it was laughing, whatever he had to say was something he found very funny.

“Know what?! That you ate some poisonous shit while i was out here moping? You made that fucking obvious.” He retorted, it was really starting to get to his nerves.

“Let me ask you this, clearly. Who do you think are the next best things from killing the most wanted getaway driver?” It asks, tone mocking him. He wasn’t in on something very important, and the thing wasn’t going to be budging anytime soon.

“Just spit it out, if it isn’t you then i’m beat.” He gives in, just wanting to head inside the car and leave the pyromaniac to die alone in an electric chair.

🎶I'm so selfish🎶

“Your parents.”

🎶But you make me feel helpless, yeah🎶

🎶And I can't stand another day🎶

🎶Stand another day🎶

🎶I just wanna make you feel okay🎶

🎶But all you do is look the other way, hmm🎶

🎶I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay🎶

🎶I just kinda wish you were gay~ 3x🎶

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