#Starcrossed lover au

[cloudy-cloudxx]

He wants to order redraw but its my Ford and Bill from my Starcrossed Lovers Au

[beskarfrog]

but that's fine, i'd still do it all over again if you asked me to

[kelbies-fandom-locker]

A Sabezra edit inspired by @supernova-skywalker fanfiction story Starcrossed . If you’ve not read it I recommend you add it to your list

[curseofdelos]

what’s ur newest fic abt??

I'm still figuring out the best way to summarise/describe this fic to people because this one is A Journey, so can I interest you in a sneak peek instead? I've been calling it my solangelo starcrossed lovers AU, but the actual starcrossed lovers part isn't relevant until halfway through the fic lmao whoops Obligatory disclaimer that this is a work in progress and is subject to change in the final version <3

Going to the underworld was a bad idea. 

Will knew it was a bad idea, but he found himself in Central Park with a ukulele strapped to his back anyway. 

What other choice did he have? His sister was dead, and his healing could do nothing for someone whose thread the Fates had cut. It was bad enough that Lee and Michael had died during the Titan War; he couldn’t accept losing Gracie too. 

If bargaining with Hades himself was what it took to get her back, then so be it. He was not losing another sibling. 

Will spent the better part of an hour searching Central Park for the entrance before he eventually stumbled upon a pile of boulders just north of the pond. They didn’t look like much even to his demigod eyes, but a dark sense of foreboding emanated from them and he knew this was what he was looking for. 

The Doors of Orpheus. 

The closest entrance into the underworld, and the inspiration behind his plan to save his sister. 

Finding this made what he was about to do feel more real, but he had come too far to turn back now. This entire plan hinged on his ability to keep moving forward and to never look back. 

Will removed the ukulele from his back, and began softly strumming one of his mother’s songs. They always brought him comfort, and he needed that comfort now more than ever. His voice was unsteady due to his nerves, but he poured his grief into the performance, hitting each note with passion and fervour until he was interrupted by a loud groan. 

The ground shook as the boulders shifted, and slowly a triangular crevice revealed itself. The gap was just wide enough for a person to squeeze through, and he was hit with the smell of mildew, decay, and dust. When Will peeked inside, he couldn’t see a thing. 

It was dark and creepy, but down those long winding steps was the god who could return his sister to him, and so he took a deep breath, slung the ukulele across his back, and pushed into the gap. 

Will had barely made it down ten steps when the rocks began to groan again, and the doors shut behind him. 

He was officially past the point of no return. There was no changing his mind now. Whatever happened, happened. 

“Well, here goes nothing,” he muttered to himself. 

With the doors closed, there was no more sunlight to light the way, and Will was plunged into pitch black darkness. He had always been frustrated at how useless some of his powers could be, but he was grateful for one in particular at that moment. 

Will took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. His skin began to emit a gentle glow, and it lit enough of the passageway that he could see where he was stepping. With one hand on the cold damp wall, and the other gripping the strap of his ukulele, he made his way down the stairs. 

This was where he was going to lead Gracie on the way out, and where he assumed Orpheus tried to lead Eurydice. Now that he was making the journey himself, he could understand why Orpheus had been so paranoid. 

Even with his glow, it was impossibly dark down here, and sometimes he swore he could see something move in the shadows. The soundscape of New York City was silenced, and the tunnel was filled with nothing but his own breathing and heartbeat. At one point, he thought he heard footsteps further down and almost slipped down the stairs in his surprise, but he swallowed his fear and pressed on. 

Gracie needed him to be brave and focused. No matter what he saw or heard, he was going to do what Orpheus failed to do and lead her out of here without looking back. All he had to do was convince Hades to let him try (something he suspected was easier said than done). 

The staircase seemed to go on forever, but eventually, the darkness began to brighten. Will switched off his glow to conserve his energy once he was certain he could see without it, and soon he reached his destination at the bottom. 

The underworld. 

It was everything he thought it would be and worse. 

The staircase opened up onto a beach of black volcanic sand. The roar of the River Styx was loud in his ears as it cascaded down the rocks and winded its way through Erebos. Far above him hung a ceiling of stalactites, no sky or clouds in sight, and the lack of natural sunlight was making him feel oddly lethargic. The smell of sulphur was so strong it made his eyes water. 

Will surveyed his surroundings until he saw it: off in the distance, camped out along the horizon, was Hades’ palace. Its obsidian walls were tall and imposing, and dread settled into his stomach at the mere sight. 

He was going to march through those bronze gates and demand an audience with Hades, arguably the most intimidating god in the pantheon. 

Gods, he hoped Hades wasn’t in a smiting mood. 

Will took a deep breath to steel himself, and stepped forward, sneakers crunching on the sand as he walked. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Will was not proud of the string of expletives that left his lips at the sudden voice. He whipped around in shock, and only then noticed that someone was leaning back against the cliff wall next to the stairs. 

His first thought was that this was a god, but he was fairly certain Hades was not in the habit of appearing like a sixteen year old boy in a My Chemical Romance t-shirt, and he had no other ideas on which god this could be.

His second thought was that this was a demigod, but that didn’t make any sense either. Nobody went to the underworld unless they had no other choice. Not to mention, as head medic, it was Will’s responsibility to know everyone at Camp Half-Blood and he liked to think he would have remembered a face like that. 

The boy looked to be about his age, give or take, with messy black hair that tumbled down to his shoulders. His face was angular with a hooked nose, a sharp jaw, and sharper cheekbones, and his mesmerising eyes were so dark they looked almost black. It would not be difficult to get lost in eyes like those. 

What really caught Will’s eye, however, was the third degree burn scars on his right arm. Patches of harsh red and scorched black skin dotted his arm all the way from the back of his hand up to his elbow. He knew just from looking at him that the injury had to be years old and long past the point his healing would have any real effect, but still, the healer in him wanted to take a closer look to see just how deep that burn went.

The scarring proved this couldn’t be a god - no god would choose to appear with anything less than perfect skin - so this had to be a demigod. 

But what was a demigod doing down here? 

Regardless, Will knew better than to snark at someone who may or may not be a god, so he stood up straight, held his head high, and defaulted to deference. “I’m here for an audience with Lord Hades.” 

The boy raised an eyebrow and looked him over, his gaze fixing on Will’s ukulele. “If your plan is to sing a song so pretty it convinces him to let you bring a loved one back to life, you might as well give up now because it’s not going to work.” 

The immediate dismissal hit him like a punch to the gut. “You don’t know that,” Will shot back defensively. 

“I think I do, actually.”

“Why?”

“Well, for a start, it didn’t work out for Orpheus, so I don’t know why you would think it would work for you. Secondly… he hates the ukulele.”

Will’s face burned in embarrassment, and he gripped the strap self-consciously. “But… it’s my Dad’s.”

“And who’s your Dad?”

“Apollo?” 

The boy snorted. “Even worse. He hates Apollo. You don’t stand a chance.” 

When Will went spelunking through the Big House attic in search of an instrument (one he could smuggle out of camp without his siblings noticing it was missing anyway) and he happened upon a ukulele that his father had blessed, he had taken it as divine endorsement of his plan. Apollo himself approved of Will’s mission to rescue his daughter, and directed him to one of the few instruments Will knew how to play. In a world dictated by prophecies and fate, there was no such thing as coincidence. 

Now that a random teenager who spoke like he knew Hades personally was telling him that he was doomed to fail, his confidence was shaken. He already knew this was a longshot. He already knew that this was going to be one of the most difficult things he had to do. What did it say about his chances that a kid from Hades’ court thought it was impossible? 

…But giving up meant dooming Gracie to an untimely death, and he just couldn’t do that. 

“I guess we’ll find out,” Will said stubbornly. “Now if you’ll excuse me….” He spun on his heel, and continued on his way towards Hades’ palace. 

Will half-expected the boy to follow him, but he heard no footsteps behind him, and breathed a sigh of relief. 

He thought he had escaped him and his judgement until the boy popped out from behind a fallen stalactite and fell into step beside him. 

Wait. How did he get in front of him? 

Will looked back over his shoulder at the cliff face - a distance too far to walk that quickly - and back at the boy who merely raised a brow at him as if Will was the weird one for being so confused. 

Did he teleport?

“You know, you’re not the first person since Orpheus to try this stunt,” the boy said as if whatever just happened didn’t happen, “and every single person before you failed. They weren’t even allowed to try. What makes you so special that you think he’s going to let you?” 

That’s the problem: Will didn’t think he was special, and there was nothing about his situation that felt particularly unique or worthy of Hades’ consideration either. He was here because he loved his sister, and he had to try something to bring her back, no matter how impossible it seemed. 

This guy and his pessimism, however, was beginning to piss him off and he had no desire to explain himself to him. Instead, he rounded on him and blurted out, “I’m sorry, who are you?” 

“Nico,” he said, as if that explained anything, “and you are?” 

Will straightened. “Will Solace. Head medic at Camp Half-Blood.” He watched Nico’s face for any sign that he knew what that was, but his expression remained carefully neutral. “And I’m going to ask Lord Hades to release one of his souls into my care whether you think that’s a good idea or not.” 

“I don’t, for the record.”

“Yeah, you made that clear.” Will rolled his eyes and continued walking. 

Nico casually strolled beside him. “As head medic, you should know better than anyone that the dead should stay dead. Lord Hades doesn’t appreciate people who try to argue otherwise. If you don’t want to end up dead with them, I suggest you head back now.” 

“Thanks for the warning, but I’m well aware of the risks. I know what I’m doing.” 

Will could feel Nico’s eyes watching him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the palace. “...If you don’t leave, I’ll be forced to make you.”

“Oh yeah?” Will scoffed. “And how are you going to do that?” 

Without warning, Nico grabbed the front of Will’s shirt and shoved him. 

The move was so unexpected that Will stumbled backwards with a yelp. There was another fallen stalactite behind him, and his back should have hit it. Instead, all the light around them was snuffed out and they were plunged into freezing cold. 

Thousands of whispering voices screamed in his ear. The wind whirred past him so fast it pushed at his face like he had gone down the drop on a rollercoaster. The world around them was completely black, and he could see nothing but Nico’s serene face in front of him, feel nothing but his bony fingers gripping tightly onto the fabric of his shirt. 

It only lasted a moment, and Will soon fell flat onto his back with an audible “OOF!”

Disoriented, he blinked up at the cloudy sky. Green grass tickled at his bare forearms. 

Will sat up on his elbows and realised he was back outside in Central Park. Nico stood in the Doors of Orpheus, looking down at him with faint amusement. “If you value your life at all, you won’t come back.” 

Nico thumped the inner wall of the passageway, and the rocks rolled back into place, shutting Will out and his hopes of rescuing Gracie with him. 

[mirahuyooo]

Lover’s Eye | ksj

Lover's Eye

— They say the eyes are the windows to one's soul. His just also happen to open the door to your heart.

Word Count: 5,448 Pairing: Kim Seokjin × Reader Contents: ANGST, roMANCE, FLUFF, dRAMA, PINING, star-crossed lovers 😭, oh the woes of being a woman in a historical period, misunderstandings being cleared uwu, KIM SEOKJINNN, Historical-ish AU (but with fictional places bc i didnt want to think of being historically accurate lol)

[masterlist] | check out the [moodboard]!

A/N: IT’S LATE but happy birthday jinnie 😭💞💖💗 I wanted to write something for him, but I didn’t want to write about him leaving for the military bc it’s a bit on the nose, so here you guys go instead! it’s an old fic idea that i recently revamped lol 

Fun fact! The concept is based on the Georgian tradition of having an accessory (necklace, brooch, bracelet, etc.) that depicts an image of the eyes or an eye of a secret lover, spouse, or other loved ones. This is often common for those in secret affairs, protecting their lover's identity but at the same time be able to express their love (and I think that's pretty uwu if ur star-crossed lovers ✋😭💞)  

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! 💗💗💗

Your paradise is an old ruin on the outskirts of the city—a once great fortress now left to rot a hundred years after its last great feat—but in that crumbling mess of stone and moss are remnants of beautiful memories you constantly rekindle for some semblance of a warmth long gone. The pleasant weather emanates most of the feeling—warm sunlight peeking through the overgrown trees and cool breeze caressing stray hairs away from your face.

It’s a spot under one of the trees where you usually tuck yourself into and leave the rest of the world behind for your own peace of mind. It offers the perfect amount of light and shade, and the wind doesn’t become too distracting as you dawdle about. 

This place, after all, is lawless, and you do as you please. At times, you’d bring a book and a pen with you, idly writing your thoughts and doodling in the margins as you read. Other days you’d stroll through the abandoned halls and let yourself be lost in imagining what took place centuries past. Most times, however, you’d sit under your favorite tree, take out a pencil or maybe that small, worn metal box of your paints, and bring something to life onto your paper—like now.

Accompanied by nothing but the distant sounds of small land critters reaching your ears, your hands move the pencil about the paper at a leisurely pace without much thought. Time passes easily this way, you taking your time to draw out figures—a person, apparently. 

Oh.

Your hands come to a stop as you finally realize what—who—you’ve drawn instinctively. A man stares back at you with a tousle of dark, fluffy hair atop his head, brushing gently over his brows. His plump lips were drawn to a small smile, and his eyes—oh, his eyes—were dark in color but the expression in them remains soft and kind, piercing right through you—through your heart. 

He looks beautiful—but you don’t think you could ever do the real thing justice. 

At your own making, Kim Seokjin stares back at you—nothing but charcoal on paper; a mere likeness you cannot feel the warmth of, and an endearing gaze you can only recall in your memories.

You find yourself fishing for something beneath your lace blouse—a familiar small, gold locket whose four corners your fingers know very well to hold. Opening it reveals an eye that, unlike the sketch you’ve drawn, is a bit more lifelike with its colors. The dark chocolate iris has light reflecting off of it like starlight, making it stand out amidst the rest of the miniature canvas. 

Flitting between the sketch and the locket only leaves you more despondent in a feat of having his image engraved in your head lest you ever have the misfortune of forgetting it. 

You couldn’t help but ponder to yourself, reminiscing the seven springs since you’ve last seen the man. 

“Do you like it?”

Voice falling short of a whisper, struggling to find it in you to look at his face so you resort to asking for a verbal reaction. You watch as he endearingly compares the two lockets—one with his eye’s dark chocolate hue and the other with the (e/c) of yours. It had been fairly difficult to paint on such small canvases, but you managed to accomplish the feat.

“Absolutely, my love,” he croons, pressing a kiss atop your forehead before he clasps his locket around his neck. Without any hesitation, he does the same for you. Not long after, his fingers secure a gentle grip on your chin and guide your head upwards. For the first time since you two snuck off to meet tonight, your eyes meeting his, two almost-crescents twinkling as he gives you a smile—tender and loving with the hint of bittersweet sadness. “You’ve captured my handsomeness in the eye alone,” he jests despite himself, pride in his tone as he pulls you into an embrace. “How fortunate I have such a talented woman to immortalize me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. “But of course,” you hum against his shirt, as you hug him just a little bit tighter. “You’re my only muse.”

The shake in your dwindling voice doesn’t elude your lover, making him pull away and, this time, cupping your cheeks to give them a pinch. “Don’t frown now,” he tuts, his thumbs playfully drawing a smile onto your lips. “You swore you wouldn’t.”

Seokjin’s eyes ruin his light-hearted facade—just as crestfallen as yours. For his sake, however, you do your best to oblige a smile, only to have them force tears from your eyes. A shaky sigh leaves his lips as your tears start flowing one after the other, and so he pulls you into his arms again, letting his shirt stain with your tears. 

You take every second to engrave the feeling of his arms—his warmth—around you. “Come back to me,” your words are muffled by his shoulder but he hears it all the same.

“Of course,” he affirms, giving you a squeeze as he buries his nose into your hair. “I very much intend to.” 

Kim Seokjin was an orphaned boy, found unconscious by the river outside the town and gladly taken in by the local baker and his wife who have been childless well into their years. He grew to be a handsome man, fawned over by even the ladies in your circle who often bemoaned about how unfortunate it was that he didn’t have anything to his name outside the bakery he’s set to inherit from his adoptive father. 

You, however, accomplished what they couldn’t. 

See, Kim Seokjin—one of the most revered bachelors in town—is your little secret. The man you sneak around with. The man you exchange knowing glances with. The man you’ve shared your heart with. 

It was most unfortunate that the two of you were born into different classes. You are the third of four daughters in a particularly well-off family who owned and managed a relatively large farmland. Though your family ranks low amongst polite society, your mother, nearly driven mad into perfectionism, strictly wanted all of her daughters to marry well. This became the very reason why you’ve kept the fact that you and baker Kim’s son are lovers.

It was most fortunate, however, that your two elder sisters successfully secured themselves husbands for their future and the family, especially when your late father succumbed to his illness during one particularly harsh winter. Occupied with the adjustments of passing the family business to your eldest sister and her husband, your mother’s pressure with suitors eventually loosened (just a little) when it came to you and your youngest sister, who shared your distaste with the forced matches. This made it all the more easier to see Seokjin, who often came around under the excuse of his father’s bakery that got their supply of dry ingredients from your family’s company.

It was him who found the ruins—him who brought you there one night and the two of you spent the night watching the stars. 

It was him who revived your love for art—him who gifted you a makeshift palette of paints and urged you to paint when you were told to forget about your passion.

It was him who left you—him who decided to seize the opportunity to be an apprentice to the royal chef and asked you to make something for him to remember you by (hence, the lockets).

The two of you swore you'd stand the test of time, distance, and everything else the universe will throw your way. Of course, such things were always easier said than done. Misfortune found its way to the path and now… well, now you’re quite unsure of what it holds for you—or him.

Here you are, seven years have passed—no Kim Seokjin aside from the ones you've put on paper and canvas. 

Does he still look the same after all these years? 

Did he keep his locket close to his heart, too?

Did he ever stare into the likeness of your eye and reminisce?

There are times resentment gets the better of you—questions of his love, of why he hasn't gone back to look for you, of if he ever even loved you any more—and time, itself, has made you weary, spent your tears, and tired your heart. It's gotten easier to bury memories of him, but times like this come where it rises from the depths in which you've left it. You walk the line of acceptance and delusion, indulging in your greatest "what if" while knowing the truth of your folly.

A sigh escapes your lips as you start to feel the tears stinging your eyes. You keep them at bay as you try to get yourself together. "That's enough for the day," you tell yourself, gathering your materials and slipping them into your satchel. 

Another day ends with you leaving the ruins—your paradise—behind, along with all of the memories of your first love. 

"A ball?"

Before you, your youngest sister, Emma, nods enthusiastically as your eldest sister, Jane, offers you a kind smile. "We thought it'd be lovely for you to join," she says, squeezing your hand, pleading. "Anne will be here by then, too, and we'll be complete."

Your heart aches for your sisters, but while you love them very much…

“You know my sentiments about polite society,” you couldn’t help but sigh, sarcasm dripping in “polite” as you know well of the vipers that hide beneath their pristine facades. 

See, the truth of you and your relationship with Seokjin was discovered six or so years ago by your mother. The resulting conflict led to your disownment and the death of your reputation in the eyes of the social circle, who stared at you with scrutiny, jealousy, and disdain wherever you went.

Emma and Jane looked at you in pity—something you absolutely distaste, but you know it would never leave their eyes even if you told them to. Still, however, your eldest sister brings out a piece of paper—an invitation. “It’ll be fine,” she assures you, “It’s a masquerade ball.”

“No one would know,” Emma eagerly supplies, wielding puppy dog eyes and a pout against you. 

You look at the two of your sisters—who have missed you since all these years, who have given you support in secret, who have urged you to return to the family since your late mother’s passing two years ago. You only manage to meet them a day every other week, your stubborn drive to make something of yourself occupying most of your days with your jobs. 

The cursive words on the card look back at you, almost expectantly. Wearing a mask sounds promising, but the luxury of it all—finding a gown to wear, attending the extravagant party, following the strict etiquette—is all too much now for the simpler life you’ve lived in the past years. They remind you of a suffocating, restricting part of your life.  

On the other hand, however, your heart strings are tugged for your sisters.

With a sigh, you set the invitation down and turn back to your sisters who anticipate your response. “How am I even supposed to afford a decent dress for myself?” you say, brow raised, but the signs of defeat bring grins onto their lips. 

“We’ll gladly take care of that, dear,” Jane assures you as Emma excitedly giggles, leaving her seat to hug you.

Their warmth coaxes a smile from your lips. Anything for them. 

“Anything for them, you say?” you grumble to yourself with a muffled groan as you stand amongst a crowd all chattering amongst themselves, while you stand there all by your lonesome. 

The night of the much awaited ball, you stayed at the estate for the first time in years. The maids delivered to you a beautiful gown of gentle green with delicate white lace trims. Along with it was a white mask with vines and flowers sculpted around it. It took a while for you to get ready, but by the end of it, your hair was beautifully pinned up with a few pearls and faux white flowers.  

The four of you—your second elder sister having arrived with her husband a few days before—meet at the living room, all happy smiles at the notion of being together again. Of course, having their husbands in tow, all of you had to split between two carriages on the way to Fairford Manor. 

Which brings you here now.

Alone, because as all of your sisters have gotten married (yes, even your youngest sister has now also found herself a man), that means as the song for the waltz played, all couples go to the center and dance together. 

“They say the chandelier was a gift from Queen Irene herself. Isn’t that fascinating, my lady?”

You hold back a grimace. “Quite so,” you politely say in feign interest, so as to not offend the man next to you. You don’t know who the old man is, but while he's been nice to have struck a conversation with you, if you planned to spend your evening with history lessons, you’d go to a library.

“Have you eve—”

“Good evening.”

A tall stranger approaches you both, clad in a black suit embroidered with silver thread and a black mask covering his full face. Your brows raise as the man offers you his hand. “If I may,” he courtesies, “I’d like to ask the lady for a dance?” 

Looking around, it seems that the second dance has indeed begun. A part of you is relieved at the sweet release from boredom, but then again, you don’t know this man either. Something does, however, urge you to take his hand before you can even think about it. 

For a moment, his hand in yours leaves you befuddled. Warm they were, and… No. Nonsense.

“I’d be delighted to,” you force a smile, now that you’ve doomed yourself to accept the invitation.

The two of you join the circle of people who came to dance to the next song. While your hand remains in his, you gingerly—awkwardly—place your other hand on the man’s shoulder. His other hand found purchase at the small of your back, as you both began to follow the tune and waltz. You thank your body for remembering the arduous years of having to study dances—you’ve yet to step on your partner’s feet!

You find yourself looking up to meet eyes with the stranger. The close distance has allowed you a better look into his eyes, and they knock the air out of you. Dark irises you’ve seen so many times before stare back at you with a knowing familiarity.

Is it—can it really be him?

“A frown doesn’t suit you, my lady,” he says, and his voice alone—soft and light-hearted as always—dooms your suspicions. With the mask obscuring his face, you find it hard to decipher his emotions. Has time rid you of knowing what his eyes speak after so long?

Your heart races and aches in a flurry of emotions, but for his sake and yours, you resist the urge to storm out of the ballroom. You wonder if he can sense your panic—if he could see your eyes glassy with unshed tears. “So, you’ve come back,” you dully say, tearing your eyes from him to spare yourself any more pain.  

“A bit later than intended, I know,” he tells you as he guides you through the dance. 

Too late, your pain screams. Too late. Too late—

Your teeth bite down at your lip, and you sentence yourself to silence until the last note of the song. Without another word, you hastily courtesy and leave him on the dancefloor, glaring at the marbled floors all the way out of the manor. Hushed whispers follow you, but they are nothing you haven’t privy your heart to. In fact, you’ve expected the gossiping—but him? Kim Seokjin, your first love, right before you when you’ve spent seven years without him? 

He’s a blow to your heart you hadn’t anticipated—a bomb amongst mere arrows. 

A sob finally escapes your lips as you reach the stairs that lead to a pathway to the gates, forcing you to shed your mask when they stick to your skin and get in the way of your tears. The cold night air nips your skin, but you’ve been shaking for far longer than the moment you stepped outside. 

Your melancholy has you nearly stagger off the stairs, but a hand grabs a secure hold of your elbow before you could fall. You pathetically look up to your supposed savior—Kim Seokjin, sans the black mask. How fortunate.

“(Y/N)—”

“Don’t,” you grit through your teeth. 

It’s a surreal sensation—bittersweet, really—to finally see the real thing when you’ve spent years longing for your drawings and paintings to become it. Yet, here your old flame was now—alive in a way your art could never atone—and all the yearning turned into a forest fire across your whole being. 

Soft thumbs wipe away your tears, a feeling that makes you instantly flutter your eyes closed. “It’s unfair,” you find yourself whimpering your thoughts aloud. “Why does it feel like I’m the only one suffering?”

Years of scrutiny and hopelessness all reap the seeds of misery they sowed in you, all of them coming alive to ensnare you and drag you to the depth now that the sole reason for it all presents himself to you—the man you loved, the man you left your family for, the man you stayed in this damned city for even as it rots you from the inside out.

“What makes you say that?”

Seokjin’s words coax you to open your eyes. Through blurred tears, you come to realize he’s closer now, his eyes swimming with tears like yours—the sight of which softens your furrowed brows. Still, it’s not enough to satiate the years of contempt that brewed within you. “Time seems to have been kinder to you, is all,” you bitterly say, taking in his suit ensemble that you could immediately tell was expensive. 

Your words hurt Seokjin, you know it well, but in a childish feat, you hope it does. “I’ve worked hard for it,” he argues, a frown tugging his lips down. “You know nothing of what I’ve been through.”

“So do you,” you say, reaching to remove his hands from your face and walking down what steps remain on the stairs.

You have no doubts of his accomplishments. He had always been able to do what he set his mind to and do so flawlessly. Perhaps, it is this that also prods at the green-eyed monster within you, who envies to see that while you may have both suffered, he’s more triumphant in his feats than you were.

Ever the better person out of the two of you, Seokjin tries to bring you to reason. He follows you out to the manor grounds. “Then make me understand,” he pleads, managing to take your hands into his and effectively stop you in your tracks yet again. “Don’t run away from this—from me.”

Seokjin’s eyes never leave yours and you find it hard for yourself to look away now. Damn it all. His eyes have always done away with you and your stubborn resolve. 

“Mother found out,” you find yourself telling him, lips quivering yet again.

Through the next months after Seokjin’s apprenticeship began at the capital, you would get your news of him through his mother, who always had that knowing glint in her eyes about the two of you before he had left. Both your worries and excitement could fill an ocean, and that made the two of you much closer as you both waited for every letter from Seokjin. 

It was a year or so in, however, your mother discovered his letters to you. You remember the sheer dread that washed over you when you saw her at your vanity table, reading the letters Seokjin directly addressed to you.

"Mother…"

You stood frozen by the door, part of your nightgown bunched in your hands as you watched your mother grip the letter tightly with only one thing in her eyes—fury. The moment she looked up and met your eyes through the mirror, chills ran down your spine. "What did I lack for you to have done this treachery to me, (Y/N)?" she said, voice eerily steady and sharp that it makes you flinch.

Willing yourself to step forward, you try to gently reason with her. "Mother, love mustn't have boundaries," you say, “Seokjin is—”

"Love is an illusion, (Y/N)," your mother spat, standing from the chair with such force that it toppled over. “These,” she waves a letter to your face, “These are nothing but lies.”

"It's not—"

"This boy may have you fooled, but not me," your mother claims, tearing the letter in her hands before your eyes, the sight of which sets you a blaze in panic.

"No!" you cry out and run to her, grasping her hands to try and save the other letters from the same fate. "Stop it, please! Stop!"

Your mother looks at you in outrage as you cry over the torn pages of your lover’s words, clutching the letters you managed to get a hold of close to your heart. "You'd waste yourself for that baker's boy?!" she bellowed, "What else can he give you aside from his looks, hm? Nothing!"

"I don't give a damn about what he can't give!" you scream back, anger now flowing through your veins. "I love him and he loves me—unconditionally. I'm not throwing what we have away simply because he doesn't fit you greedy ide—"

A slap damns you to silence. 

"How dare you?" your mother sneers, seething. "How will you live then, hm? In the slums with nothing to eat?"

Her underestimation of commoners infuriates you. "The Kims get by just fine mother," you hiss, standing to stare her down with a glare. "Your obsession with luxury blinds you to the beauty in their simple lives."

Your mother glares back, crossing her arms. "Then I'll simply have you see things my way," she declares with such sureness that it unsettles you.

"What do you mean?"

"No daughter of mine marries a commoner," she says the words with such disgust that it stabs your heart with pain. "You'll marry Lord Jung's son, and then you'll see just how much better life is!"

Jung Hoseok, you remember him. A kind, bright boy you played with as a child—son to one of your late father’s greatest investors. He’s heir to his father’s brewery business. You can see why, in your mother’s eyes, he’s a perfect candidate for marriage. 

Even so, you can't stomach the thought of betraying Seokjin—let alone attempting to unlove him. 

"Then, I'll be no daughter of yours."

Your mother's visibly taken aback, her furious eyes that had seemed so sure before falter upon hearing your words. "What?"

Tears sting your eyes as you shake but you stand your ground. "If it disgusts you to have a daughter who loves a commoner, then I'll do you a favor, Lady (L/N)," you tell her, fishing for a coat in your closet, as well as the satchel that kept your locket and the makeshift palette Seokjin gifted you among other things. 

"You would leave the family for that boy?"

You could no longer bear the noose this life has around your neck. "A single inch of Kim Seokjin has made me feel more love, seen, and supported than you ever could," you claim, as you don on your coat. Another glare and you finally tell your mother the truth that you and your sisters have all been thinking of for years. "Your expectations and dreams have doomed us all to terrible, unhappy ends."

In many ways, your mother had killed all of you.

Jane, the eldest, while her husband was a good man, lives in his shadow. You like to think she was a genius, if she hadn’t been shackled to be a woman like all of you were. She longed to take care of the family estate and business herself, but that power’s been passed to her husband.

Anne—sweet Anne—who loved to read about plants, was married off to a count from a neighbouring kingdom. Your mother didn’t care about the rumors of his infamous infidelity—-didn’t care that your sister was doomed to be all alone, so far from home.

And, young Emma, whose imagination knows no bounds, wanted to write stories, but mother burned her manuscripts when she found out about her intentions to publish them.

"Everything I do, I do for all of you," your mother growled.

"You do it for yourself," your words smack her nearly as hard as she did. "You'd rather have our hearts and souls die to fit your perfect picture, than be happy."

"Happiness isn't everything—"

"I'd rather die than live without happiness."

This shocks her enough into silence that it gives you time to storm out of the room—of the estate. 

Seokjin’s eyes were wide as you told him of what had transpired that night. He seems as if he had something to say, but he withholds his words until you finish your side of the story.

The two of you walk in the night, side by side with a distance drawn by an invisible line between you both. “I came to the bakery the moment I left,” you tell him, “but even then, my misery doesn’t end.” 

That night, certain of your disownment, you made a run for the Kims' bakery. Imagine your surprise when you found the establishment abandoned. No more bread of all shapes, forms, and flavors displayed. No more gentle conversation between Mr and Mrs Kim. No more kind smiles to welcome you into the abode. 

Everything was gone. 

“I don’t know what happened,” you say, shivering yet again—this time from the cold. Seokjin wordlessly sheds his black overcoat, the silver threads embroidered into it glinting in the moonlight as he did. For a moment, you’re silent, words unable to escape you as he drapes his coat over your shoulders.

This makes it all the more difficult to meet his eyes, you forcing yourself to look at the forest ahead. “I…” you wet your lips as you ease your breathing. “I barely had any money with me, but one of our old maids thankfully took me in.”

Helen remains to be someone dear to your heart. “It was also her who helped me find something to make a living with,” you say, a soft smile on your face at the memory of going through town with Helen to look for jobs. In the end, she was able to help you become an assistant seamstress to a kind over to a dress shop. 

After months of working, you finally had enough to look for him where you last knew he was. “The first of my plans was to earn enough money to go to the capital,” you murmur, your smile fading at the memory of what took place there when you arrived. “Alas,” you bitterly laugh, “you weren’t there anymore.”

It took you days to even manage to ask a member of the royal kitchen staff about what happened to Seokjin, and as it turns out, he quit from his post some time after you were disowned. Next to you, Seokjin grimaces, sighing as he shakes his head. “I,” he stammers, “I had already been under a lot of pressure, and…”

It seemed to be his turn reminiscing. “My parents came to the capital all of a sudden,” he began, “they said Lady (L/N) told them to get out of the city at your request—said that you were getting married to another and you didn’t want anything that reminded you of me.”

Your heart dropped at the news. When did your mother orchestrate such a scheme?

You recall that before that night, the last you had seen of Mr and Mrs Kim had been a week or so. Had your mother known about you and Seokjin for much longer before you discovered her in your room? 

Tears return to your eyes, and you find yourself clutching Seokjin’s coat tightly in your hands. A newfound hatred for your mother burns in you, but a part of you still found fault in Seokjin’s predicament. “Seven years,” your words tremble. “I’ve waited seven years for you to come back—stayed a commoner here even as they slander me behind my back because I didn’t want you to not find me. Why didn’t you come for me sooner?” 

Until the end, you were your mother's disappointment. Even your youngest sister, who had no plans of getting married, was now with child, having gotten married to the heir to a publishing company last summer. You, on the other hand, denied any man who came to ask for your hand—who all told you how fortunate you were that they’re even asking a desolate spinster like you. 

You could feel Seokjin’s gaze from beside you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to look into them and see what they held. A sigh resounds from him, so filled with regret and anguish. “I lost my way for a while,” he confesses, “when I heard your supposed husband was an heir, I was angry. I poured my heart and my time into making something of myself—I got back to the royal kitchen, I got employed under a ducal family, and then I delved into business.”

He looks up at the moon, like it’d give him more strength for his confessions. “I planned to come back here and show you all of that, I…” he shakes, “I wanted you to regret leaving me.”

You find it hard to imagine Kim Seokjin, who was always so mature and certain of himself, be so unsure and lost, and yet the emotions his words carry are proof of it. A part of you feels betrayed that he thought you would believe such a thing, but you know well how emotions can cloud a person’s reason.

The two of you came to a stop when he stood before you, seizing your hands yet again since the manor’s staircase. A hand came to tilt your chin towards him. “When I finally came here,” Seokjin earnestly looked at you, “I can’t begin to imagine the relief and joy I felt to find out you never got married at all, but I… I also know what a fool I’ve been.”

A glint of that well-known determination is in his eyes as he fishes for something pinned beneath his waistcoat. “When I saw you at the ball, I knew I had to at least try if I had even a small chance to be with you again.”

In his hands was his locket, one that revealed your eye in the midst of it. At that moment, your eyes yet again shine with tears—this time, happier than the previous ones. Your heart swells, not enough to quell your pain, but still enough to comfort your broken heart—to embrace it and say “I’m here, I’ll never leave again.”

Before you is a familiar view, you now realize it as you look around what surrounded you both. Walking down the memories of the past lead you to the place where you both shared most of it—the ruins. 

A small smile makes it to your lips. “Do you remember the last time we were here?” you ask him, and watch as he, too, came to recognize where you two were. The smile that befalls him is precious, as he nods. 

You find yourself squeezing his hand in yours, taking a step forward to lessen the gap between you both. You stare into his eyes—see how softly and kindly they gaze at you. “You are my only muse,” you say, echoing the words you told him seven springs ago as your fingers reach for the locket you kept tucked between your dress and corset. “The one who gave me strength amidst my misery.”

Seokjin encloses his right hand with yours, both of them containing your respective lockets, as he rests his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering close. “You’re my muse, too,” he swore under his breath as he leaned in and captured your lips in a tender kiss. 

You smile, the cracks in your heart slowly but surely being melded back together from his warmth.

Here you are, seven years have passed—Kim Seokjin very much alive and within arm’s reach, proving what you thought during that dreadful night to be true. You can never unlove him.

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 : @mwitsmejk​ @dreamamubarak​ @bloodline1632​

[helluvapurf]

Shipping bingo: stolas x blitz (stolitz)

*dodges fandom tomatoes*

Probably the biggest ship in general when it comes to the main show/fandom atm, and given their concept as two broken, messed up souls from different social classes steadily catching feelings as they use the other for their own gain, its def got some interesting potential going for it when put in good writing hands (*which I was kiiiiinda hoping would be the case following what happened in "Ozzie's"... buuut then S2 happened and now idk? glkjk .w.;*)

For the most part, I'd generally say my view of the Sto/litz ship is just kinda... "neutral" atm? In a way where its like I can "take it or leave it" depending on how/where its written-

[juodojimirtis]

This x is even more true for the AU where Ava is St. Michael, and Adriel is the Antichrist. He'd remind her she's one of the most powerful creatures in the Universe, and she should seize it. Her power, her glory, belongs to her alone. Her fate belongs to her alone. With him by her side, she, too, could say Non Serviam*.

The two in this AU are flawless for Starcrossed Lovers Rearrange the Stars, and Amor Vincit Deum tropes (well, obviously, Archangel Michael x The Antichrist is the paragon ship of those). Though... Would it be Amor Vincit Deum, or Familia Ante Omnia? Both Reya (God) and Satan are looking at the two with a "😑" expression, but their love reunites the family.

*I better not hear any "this quote doesn't actually belong to Lucifer" blah blah blah shut up.

[rae-gar-targaryen]

Wait, wait, wait...Hero and Claudio like Much Ado Hero and Claudio??? Aka, my favorite play EVER? Sorry, Shakespeare just excites me that much. 😂

EXACTLY that Hero and Claudio! I've always loved their sort of silly, bubbly naivete, their masquerade ball love...

The Kenneth Branagh version of Much Ado is probably my favorite, and it definitely has everything to do with Keanu Reeves...

In any case, I was yearning for a little starcrossed lovers AU and I don't have anything tangible, yet, just vibes... But it might yet become a fic! I welcome all thoughts on this. I'm so excited to know you love Shakespeare, too! 💜🌿

[yurayuramiharin]

Establishing an update schedule for my fics is terrible because I wanna post things now!!! Immediately!!! I wanna give you the good stuff!!! but I know I will reach a moment when I run out of ideas or time for a while and I don't want to disappoint anyone with lack of updates... why is it so hard

[nobodyinfart]

OUCHHHHHH THATS PAINFUL…. And, it’s the fact that you can’t help it :(. You keep falling over and over despite him never remembering, you can’t imagine a lifetime without those blue eyes in your life. Maybe, at one point, you believe that you are the curse that forbids him to live longer. Maybe, distance has to be the only way.

His eyes are the same.

You should’ve known better than to think this time would be any different. You should’ve gone into a different career but your heart always belonged to helping others, to protecting others. You knew that no matter if you did go into something other than the military you would always end up here however, at the same moment where his fate was sealed forever.

You find each other, whether you intend for it to happen or not.

It’s fate. Destiny. He’d laugh at you if you said that to him.

“No such thing, bonnie. My choices are my own.” He’d tell you but you’ve met him enough times to know that it’s written in the stars you’re meant to meet.

He greets you with a smile every time, a twinkle in his beautiful blue eyes as he outstretches his hand for you to take. Recently he only gives you a shake, the other times he may have kiss the back of your hand or bowed to you.

“John MacTavish,” he stands proud and shakes your hand, introducing himself as if you have never met. “But you can just call me Soap.”

He doesn’t remember you, he never does despite the fact that he’s drawn to you every time.

To him you’re a stranger he eventually falls in love with, to you he’s the love of your life you get to fall in love with again and again even when you don’t mean to.

You can’t help it. Not when he looks at you with the same eyes that have bore into your soul, not when he has the same heart that has given you everything you desired.

Not when he leaves you so early.

You’ve tried countless times to stop it, you’ve tried to not fall in love. You hope this time it’ll work but deep down you know it won’t.

Especially as Soap grins at you and wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you close, his eyes softening into an all familiar look as he takes in your features. He wants to kiss you but he hasn’t confessed yet, though you know he will eventually.

He makes it hard every time.

You hope this is the last time.

[cloudy-cloudxx]

Starcrossed lovers - An AU where Ford falls in the portal but only to be stuck with Bill at first he is frustrated by it, and he dispises Bill for the manipulation, but soon after being stuck together and having many adventures in the portal - they grow attached to eachother. The reason Bill's there is because he abandoned the Henchmaniacs an unknown reason. 30 years later Stan gets Ford out the portal with Fiddleford's help. But Ford doesn't want to be there not wothout his so called muse {Ford has Stockholm syndrome and Seperation anxiety} so he tries to get back to the portal acting coldly towards the two who "saved" him put the Portal -

[alchemypanda]

bro am I having early onset dementia. I just right clicked my vegas to quickly open a clip project and just realized I have a project I DON T REMEMBER MAKING.

excuse me? when did I start this? it has a good 10 seconds already. Maybe I'm just not used to me actually giving projects proper names instead of just

or even worse these:

speaking of unfinished projects at some point I'm just gonna have to make a vid to dump all my unfinished and likely never finished videos into.

[skzaholix]

amore , mio stray kids series

AMORE MIO : otherwise known as "my love" is a collective bunch short love stories about our favorite boys based on songs to celebrate the upcoming love season, winter !

HE'S A GENTLEMAN , c.b - in progress / highschool au / sunshine / grumpy trope ! you've always been one who is oppressive to love, rightfully so, you've been through many heartbreaks. yet, what happens when the one guy you've never shown much of an interest in, shows you what love truly is?

MILLION DOLLAR MAN , l.m - in progress / fake dating trope / holidate au "they say money can't buy happiness, but money bought you, didn't it?" in which the million-dollar man chooses you to be his fake date for each holiday with his nagging family.

ARE YOU LONELY? , s.c - in progress / enemies (?) to lovers / popular prson, loser boy trope being popular doesn't mean having friends, at least friends who are real, so what happens when the only person there for you, is the one person that you hate?

KISS ME , h.h - in progress / she's all that au / popular boy , nerdy other trope popular boy, hwang hyunjin gets peer pressured into a bet to date the nerdy, pretentious, loser of the school and to make them popular in 6 weeks yet, what happens when you become more than just a bet?

LOVE , h.j - finished / starcrossed lovers / rich and poor au / lovesick! jisung " It doesn't matter if I'm not enough for the future or the things to come cause I'm young and in love " you're in different worlds yet individuals who love each other, you've accepted it. you know you can't be together but he just can't get enough.

LOVE STORY , l.f - in progress / starcrossed lovers / prince and painter au months, weeks, days are coming very close til prince felix is crowned king and before he does that, he needs to pick someone to rule with him but, why can't it be you?

I WANNA BE YOURS , k.sm - in progress / fake enemies to lovers / sunshine and grumpy trope in the eyes of seungmin, you're annoying, you're too bright, and definitely too happy so when you take notice of that and decide to hang with someone else, why does it make him... jealous?

THE NIGHT WE MET, y.j - in progress / strangers to lovers / starstruck(?) au you, getting away from a crowd of your family's bodyguards ran into him yang jeongin, the man you'll spend a night of fun, scares and more with

AUTHORS NOTE: happy (almost) holidays everyone, i had so much fun preparing these plots for everyone, i kinda feel like we need more sfw fluff in the skz or even more writing communities so i decided to muster up my very first series lmk what ygs think maybe i'll do more series i also wanted to do something new for some members than expected soooo

[vashmerylweek24]

Vashmeryl Week '24 Prompts are LIVE!

This event is running Nov. 3rd - 9th and is open to any and all Vashmeryl fics or art!

For each day, prompts consist of a word, an AU, and two songs. Please tag @vashmerylweek24 in anything uploaded to tumblr, and the AO3 collection will be announced closer to the event! The Spotify playlist for the prompts can be found here. Please tag any NSFW works appropriately.

This lovely, silly prompt graphic was made by the fantastic @hashtagcaneven.

Plain text for the prompts under the cut!

Day 1, Nov. 3rd - Earrings | Band AU | "Rose Colored Boy" - Paramore | "Angeleyes" - ABBA

Day 2, Nov. 4th - Camping | Cryptid AU | "Iris" - The Goo Goo Dolls | "Chasing Twisters" - Delta Rae

Day 3, Nov. 5th - Scars | Solar Punk AU | "People Are So Fickle" - Kevin Devine | "Prosthetic Love" - Typhoon

Day 4, Nov. 6th - Bar/Saloon | Pirate AU | "Run Run Run" - Celeste Buckingham | "Shatter" - Maggie Rogers

Day 5, Nov. 7th - Feathers/Flowers | Fantasy AU | "Starcrossed Lovers" - The Fratellis | "Wanderer" - Angelo de Augustine

Day 6, Nov. 8th - Memories/Mind Meld | Space Opera AU | "Not Strong Enough" - boygenius | "Sacrilege" - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Day 7, Nov. 9th - Coming Home | Modern AU | "Wait for Me" - Rise Against | "I, Carrion (Icarian)" - Hozier

[lovelyhan]

— it's complicated ⟢

one commoner, two princes, and three tales far too complicated to comprehend.

★ FEATURING; chan, joshua, and jeonghan!

★ STATUS; ongoing

★ TAGS; royalty au, magic, jeonghan being a menace (yes, it's a tag that's effective for the entire series lol), slow burn, fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ NOTES; ok i lied abt posting this later hehe i've been soooo excited to share this entire series since i posted chan's story a few weeks ago <3 i hope you all like it!

★ BANNER CR; @himbocoups thank you so much for helping me out, nu!!!

✧ promise ring // chan ✧

word count: 21k words

summary: no one would’ve guessed that the daughter of the town’s royal mage has a soft spot for the clumsiest fire elemental in the entire realm. but when the crown prince suddenly asks for your hand in marriage, you’re forced to consider how you feel about a certain lee jung chan a lot more seriously.

tags: childhood friends, mutual pining, love triangle

✧ eyes meeting, hearts apart // joshua ✧

word count: 30.2k words

summary: you could've fallen for the childhood friend who owns a flower shop, the singer who takes the stage of the bar every other day. hell, even the owner's flirtatious son could've been a better choice. but you can't really help it if your heart longs for a prince who's in love with somebody else.

tags: bartender!reader, requited unrequited love, pining like no other, angst

✧ starcrossed losers // jeonghan ✧

word count: x

summary: at age fifteen, you’re betrothed to a prince named jeonghan. at age twenty-five, you’re set to marry him. so, when your father gives you a chance to find love all on your own, you immediately take it. now if only jeonghan would stop fucking sabotaging every relationship you’re trying to get into.

tags: royal!reader, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, emotional romantic and sexual tension all in one lmao, more angst than intended

want to be included in the taglist? send me an ask!

[shadowbriar]

George Fabian Weasley Masterlist

♤ Angst - ♡ Fluff - ✮ AU - ♛ Popular

One-shot

♡ Overtime: Inspired by Overtime by Seafret. George gathers the courage to confess to the Gryffindor Head Girl who always seemed to have a handful heart.

♤♡ Never Walk Away Again: Inspired by Never Gonna Leave This Bed by Maroon 5. She knew that she’s playing with fire from the beginning, but his demeanour has poured nothing but gasoline and now she’s the only one burning in flame as he watches on the side.

♡ Mother Knows Best: The Weasley family dinner might not just be another gathering this time as Molly Weasley invited his long lost lover. Set after the Great War. Fred is very much alive.  

♡♛Pretend Boyfriend: “Well, since you don't have anyone you want to go with and that I need someone to shield me from these boys, would you please be my pretend boyfriend?” George deals with his feelings as he falls deeper for her in their fake relationship.   

♤♡ Soul Bound: The old grimoire was wide open for her to read. Truth be told, she never thought she would ever need to open the grimoire. But desperate time calls for desperate measures and that’s certainly what she is right now.  

♤♡♛Delicate [Requested]: Insecurity and misunderstanding led the boy to ask the wrong girl for the Yule Ball.

♤ Starcrossed: George Weasley x Malfoy!Reader George comes to the realisation that sometimes, somethings are destined to end.  

♤♡ One Day [Request]: Being the centre of attention all of their lives has made the two crave for privacy and tranquillity more than anything, but would solitude be a good enough reason to keep their relationship secret?  

♤♡ Loved and Lost You [Requested]: Fake dating gone wrong when she realises that her silly idea to help the Hufflepuff boy costs her his bestfriend.  

♤♡ Nothing’s Gonna Hut You Baby: The war took something from everyone and it certainly took a big part away from George Weasley.

♤ Vitalum Vitalis: Balancing the scales of life and death is never close to the word safe, but what else could she do when he’s losing his other half?

Series

♤ Reignite: One ill-considered joke leads to another hasty decision that though both of them have to suffer the disastrous aftermath, only one could try to light the spark again.

♤ Ember: This story is part II of Reignite. He crawls back to the past, trying to salvage whatever is left of them. But one could only try so much before their heart yields and cave in defeat.