#They would send him a prayer to invite him to the wedding | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thetomorrowshow · 3 years ago

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every hand's a loser

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cw: blood, vomit mention

Scott slowly turns, trying to catch sight of every angle of his suit in the mirror. It looks good—more modern than what his advisors had wanted, but he’d fought to wear this to just the one occasion and they’d finally made allowments. It still is undoubtedly Rivendellian in style (his waistcoat is white embroidered with gold, his suit coat hangs down past his knees, a scarf ties his collar rather than a tie), but he likely won’t be as out of place as he normally is.

He can’t upshow the lucky couple on their wedding day, after all.

It’s not an option for him to not attend, as much as he wants to just slip out of this suit and under his covers. He’s an emperor before he’s a person, and he has alliances to upkeep.

But Jimmy is going to be there. Jimmy, who he kissed and kissed again and ran out on and hasn’t seen since.

Not that he hadn’t tried, to be sure. He’s messaged him four times over the past week, to none of which Jimmy responded. The first had been an apology, the second an excuse to miss the supplemental meeting, then the next two were asking if he was okay. He’d barely restrained himself from doing a flyover just to check on him, but Jimmy has to have privacy. He can’t scare him, has to let him know he doesn’t want to hurt him.

But Jimmy won’t respond and Scott knows he has to let him have his privacy, but his sleep schedule (which had been slowly improving) has now been entirely thrown out the window. He’s had to apply an excessive amount of make-up to hide the shadows under his eyes, has a potion of regeneration tucked into his satchel in case he starts to fall asleep during tonight’s festivities and several more packed for the rest of the week.

He’d taken an embarrassing amount of time to fit his left wing into the slit in his coat, but all of his body parts are now where they belong and he has to be changing back out of it and into travel clothes or else he’ll be late, which simply cannot happen. He’s an ally, after all.

He remembers from various wedding talk he’d been privy to that Lizzie and Joel have to invite all of the emperors or risk all-out war. They’d looked for any reason to exclude certain members of the House Blossom Alliance, but there was simply nothing to be done. fWhip, Sausage, and Joey are all going to be in attendance, regardless of the quality of their relationship with the bride and groom. Like Scott, they’re emperors before they’re people. Hopefully they can remain civil.

Scott sends a prayer up to Aeor that he’ll be just as civil as they are.

It’s time to go soon. He’s got a company of five elves—two are guards, one is an advisor, one is a manservant, one is a seamstress. Standard for large social events, but having so many people at his heels stresses him out. All but the seamstress have already left, of course—most elves don’t have wings and must travel on foot, so Scott had opted to wait a bit longer before heading out.

An event like this will last all week. Tonight is the opening feast, and he wants so badly to skip it but he can’t. It would be so easy to change into pajamas instead of travel clothes, leave his wedding suit crumpled on the floor instead of carefully hung for his seamstress to bring along with cir when ce leaves later today.

He has to get going. Lizzie had just messaged him last night to ensure his attendance, saying “I don’t know how I’ll be able to hold myself back when I see fWhip so I could use a voice of reason”.

He can’t abandon his friends. He can’t be weak.

So Scott shimmies out of the suit and throws on a loose shirt and leggings under a short skirt, then throws the suit onto a hanger and layers a coat on top of his clothes. Just before he jumps out of his window, he sends a quick message to Lizzie:

Smajor1995: on my way. let me know if there’s anything you need me for

Then he throws open his window and dives off the ledge.

Scott manages to avoid Jimmy the first two days, but it’s the wedding itself where everything falls apart.

Jimmy looks good. Jimmy looks more than good, but Scott can’t let himself think about that. He’s also wearing a more modern-inspired suit, though with clear Cod Empire influence—a sparkling fishing net hangs down like a short skirt over his black trousers, emeralds speckle his tie in swirling designs, his normal cod head has been replaced by more of a cod headdress that falls a short way down his back.

And Scott can’t help but think it—Jimmy looks stunning. From the traditional green-brown make-up swirling around his face (less grand than Lizzie’s pink and blue, but of a very similar design) to the scuffed toes of his shoes, Jimmy is the most gorgeous person Scott has ever seen. The wedding ceremony is probably beautiful and touching but Scott can’t take his eyes off Jimmy to actually pay it much attention. He’s sitting on Joel’s side simply because both had told him it doesn’t matter, but more specifically because fWhip is on Lizzie’s side and with the way Jimmy’s eyes keep flicking to fWhip, Scott doesn’t think he’d be able to hold himself back on the other side of the aisle.

Joel’s side is closer to Jimmy, anyhow, who is technically on Lizzie’s side but as Joel’s best man he’s standing up front.

Not that he should be looking at Jimmy. He can’t make him uncomfortable.

Scott adjusts his crown slightly as Lizzie gives her vow. He should be able to sit still right now—his advisor kicking him under the pew as he shifts is proof of that—but he needs to do something with his hands to keep from looking at Jimmy. He lets them fall to his lap, hopefully invisible to the other emperors as his links and unlinks his fingers. He’s paying attention to the wedding, not Jimmy. He doesn’t want to cry.

He cried last night after the dinner with Mezelean figures of importance. Jimmy had caught his eye for a moment after an apparently well-known artist had spilled soup on herself, a moment of mirth in his eyes, and Scott had had to take his leave right after the dinner (leaving his advisor Ilphas to the socializing) to cry his eyes out on the floor of his guest room.

He misses Jimmy so terribly that he doesn’t even know what to think. He’d barely even known him, hadn’t even realized his crush until a week ago and in that time he’s experienced complete devastation at his own hands, knowing that had he known, he might’ve been able to ask Jimmy out and handle the rejection better and remain friends with the man, instead of spontaneously kiss him twice and run out before explaining.

But Jimmy hasn’t reached out or responded to contact and Scott can’t make him uncomfortable, and staring at him throughout his sister’s wedding is definitely encroaching on boundaries in some way, so he takes a deep breath and turns his attention on the pastor just as he’s telling Joel that he may kiss the bride.

Scott can’t help but let out a little cheer amongst the polite clapping. His advisor glares at him, but Jimmy glances toward him and whoops, loud and excited as he claps enthusiastically, and then Joey whistles obnoxiously and suddenly everyone is cheering and laughing and shouting congratulations to the newlyweds, and Joel flashes a thumbs up to the crowd as he deepens the kiss and Lizzie swings him around and for a moment, everything is perfect and happy.

Then the top advisor of Mezelea stands and asks, rather politely, if the wedding guests would please follow them to the ballroom in the palace, and Scott remembers that there are more events he has to attend like a dance and he doesn’t know how he’s going to stand it.

He’d never understood the word ‘heartsick’ until now, because every time he glances across the table at Jimmy something inside his chest feels like it cracks and nausea seeps out.

They’re at the after-wedding pre-dance dinner, the one where Jimmy’s about to give a speech and there’s a plate of food in front of him that he can’t even bring himself to look at. His advisor across the room, gives him a sympathetic but firm look (they don’t know what’s ailing him but they do know it’s been affecting him badly. Unfortunately, Scott is an emperor before he’s a person), so he forces himself to take a bite—he’s received a small portion of some sort of sweet-and-sour lobster dish with a classic Mezalean salad (goat cheese, spinach, tomatoes, grilled lamb, the like). It should be delicious, but it turns to ash in his mouth. He takes another bite anyway.

There’s a clinking of a glass, and Jimmy shoves back his chair and stands, a bright smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes spreading across his face.

“Welcome, distinguished guests,” he says to the entire room at large, from the Table of Great Importance (where the newlyweds sit with other royals and very close friends) to the Table of Unwanted but Invited Guests (such as stuffy dukes and lords and distant relations) and every table in between. “Welcome to the celebration of the union of two souls whom I love very much.”

Jimmy gestures to Joel beside him, and Lizzie beside him, and there’s a smattering of applause when the two lift their entwined hands and nod.

“Joel was my first friend, and certainly my closest,” Jimmy continues, “and Lizzie, my dear sister. To see two people so close to me find happiness in each other is absolutely insane.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, and very well-said for Jimmy, but something about it is off. Something in that just can’t be right. Whatever bothers Scott about it, however, is lost as Jimmy keeps speaking.

“About a year ago, on the way back to the Ocean Kingdom from a meeting, our boat capsized. It was just the three of us—Joel, Lizzie, and myself—and suddenly we were underwater in a terrible storm.”

Several polite gasps come from around the room; Jimmy nods in thanks. “Now, that wasn’t a problem for Lizzie and me, seeing as—well—” he gestures to his ears— “but it was for Joel. Joel, heroic as he is, was wearing insanely heavy clothing, and it was storming and he may have accidentally hit himself in the face with a stray oar, so he sank like a boulder.”

The crowd chuckles and hums and gasps again, and Jimmy smiles to himself, a smile that Scott knows so well and yet barely knows at all. “But before I could even get my bearings, Lizzie dove under. It was only a couple of seconds before she came back up, and she came up alone.”

Silence. Everyone is listening intently, some even leaning forward. Jimmy stares off beyond the scene, as if lost in his thoughts, before continuing.

“I have never seen someone look so fierce. She shouted for me to try and hold the boat still—Joel was caught underneath on a broken plank, stuck there with no chance of escape. Then she was back under and I did my best, but the rain was falling harder and the waters so choppy I couldn’t even hold myself still.

“I don’t know how she did it, what with the boat shifting this way and that and the wind roaring and everything else, but after almost a minute of waiting, I saw Joel’s head bob up, followed by Lizzie. We luckily happened to be close to land—there’s a watchhouse on the banks somewhere along the way between the Overgrown and the Ocean Empire—so we swam there, Lizzie supporting Joel the whole time.”

Lizzie uses the moment that Jimmy takes to breathe to flex her arms, showing off genuinely impressive muscles. The crowd laughs.

“We arrived on this rocky shore beside the watchhouse and Lizzie immediately starts tearing off Joel’s shirt,” Jimmy continues. “He wasn’t breathing. She listened to his chest for a moment, before she’s yelling for me to go see if there’s help in the watchhouse and pounding on his chest, doing mouth-to-mouth, everything.

“There was no one there, nothing but some ingredients for bread and a raggedy old bed. I got back and Joel still wasn’t breathing, and Lizzie was doing everything she could but it wasn’t working, and then—he started coughing.”

The crowd releases a breath, as does Scott. He feels rather silly; Joel is sitting before them, grinning lazily. It’s not like he died.

“There we are, on this rocky beach, and Lizzie’s so happy Joel’s alive she’s actually singing! And then Joel starts throwing up, just vomiting these spurts of water everywhere—”

Scott blanches—maybe this isn’t the best part of the story for a wedding feast?

“—but Lizzie’s just—she’s proper gazing at him, gazing,” Jimmy emphasizes, “even as he’s over here puking like a fry that’s got hold of its mother’s drink, and she’s smiling and brushing his hair out of his eyes and right then was when I realized they were in love.” He laughs a little bit; his listeners coo. “If she could see him like that and still love him—because no offense, Joel, but I was pretty close to abandoning you and claiming that bed in the watchhouse—it had to be something special.”

Lizzie looks to Joel, a small smile on her face. Joel’s grin goes rather dopey as he takes her hand.

“I found out later that Lizzie had chewed through where his clothes had caught on the plank,” Jimmy says somberly. “It had been so stuck that she’d had to chew through pieces of wood as well. Have you ever noticed that she’s missing a tooth, about three back from the front? She lost it rescuing Joel.

“Now you may be thinking—‘Oh, but Jim, you’re Joel’s best man, not Lizzie’s!’ Well, the moment I knew Joel loved Lizzie was. . . .” He makes a show of thinking back, scratching at his chin and furrowing his brows. “Well. How can I pick just one?”

He laughs a little, looking toward the couple fondly. “Joel,” he says slowly, “falls in love with Lizzie every time he sees her, or thinks of her, or hears her laugh. Joel loves her so perfectly, it’s hard to tell when it began. I have never seen two people love each other so much.”

There’s a pang in Scott’s heart at the words, and he misses the rest of the speech, only aware that it’s ended by the clapping and whooping and Jimmy lifting his glass in a toast. Scott follows the action woodenly, his smile feeling too large and stretched.

He wonders how early he can leave while still being polite.

He zones out for the rest of the dinner, eating mechanically, trying to steer his mind away from the forbidden feel of Jimmy’s lips and the warmth of his laugh and the special feeling Scott gets inside when he looks at him. He’s got such a crush that it’s hindering his life at this point, and he just wants it to stop because he can’t feel like that. He’d hoped that some distance would be good for him, would make it easier to be casual acquaintances, but Jimmy seems determined to be the most beautiful person in the world which makes it rather hard.

The tables are cleared with a wave of Gem’s staff and Joel and Lizzie take to the floor as the band strikes up the opening notes of a slow waltz. They’ve clearly practiced this, smoothly switching who’s leading every so often so that both are shown as equal. It’s fluid and cute, and when the song segues into another and they open their arms, Katherine takes Shubble’s hands and leads her out onto the floor, and Gem drags fWhip out, and several pairs of lords and ladies stand as well.

Scott stays to the side, as does Pixl, who gives him a nod and a shrug as if to commiserate. Jimmy is out on the floor, twirling some woman around, and Scott scans for Sausage and Joey to find them also dancing with random partners. Then Pearl extends a hand to Pix with a raised brow and Scott’s alone on the sidelines.

He should find a partner to dance with, but all of his allies are out on the floor already and he just doesn’t know any of the nobility or stars here. Rivendell has isolated itself from the rest of the world for decades and it’s only been in his reign that such overtures have been made. As such, he hasn’t quite caught up on many of the cultural aspects of the surrounding empires, such as the apparently world-famous Ocean poet currently dancing with Joel’s second cousin.

He avoids everyone’s eye during the first couple of songs, during which partners are switched without a care—Jimmy dancing with Lizzie, Jimmy dancing with Joel, Jimmy stepping out of the room, Jimmy dancing with Pixl, Jimmy dancing with Katherine—but then he sees fWhip pushing through the crowd to get close to where Jimmy is bowing to the rather handsome, haughty man (Scott’s not jealous, not at all) that he’d just danced with. He can’t let that happen. He’s dedicated to protecting Jimmy and fWhip certainly can’t have good intentions��

Before he knows what he’s doing, Scott’s shouldering his way through the dancers, muttering apologies as he goes. He just reaches Jimmy before fWhip can, holding out one gloved hand before the cod. “Might I have this dance?”

Jimmy goes a little pale, but nods with pursed lips and a clearly-forced smile. Scott hates himself for making Jimmy do this when he clearly doesn’t want to, but he can’t let fWhip dance with him. fWhip glares at him openly, but melts away into the crowd without a word. Scott breathes a sigh of relief.

Then he remembers that songs tend to be about four minutes long, and you're expected to keep up a conversation during that.

Jimmy's looking at him, the swirling make-up bringing out the sparkles of green in his dark brown eyes. He's waiting.

"You haven't responded to my messages," Scott blurts out, before feeling his face go pale. "I didn't mean—"

"Oh, I—my communicator's broken," Jimmy hurries to say. "I didn't even—I haven't gotten it fixed yet, I've been missing messages left and right—"

"Your communicator broke? How?" It seems to Scott like a safe topic of conversation, but Jimmy instantly blushes to his gills and looks askance.

"Um, it just . . . don't worry about it. How's, um, how's wool production?"

For two people supposedly friends, it’s the most basic and polite of conversation starters and Scott’s almost embarrassed that he’s been asked it. He responds in kind, updating Jimmy on minutiae that he knows he doesn’t care about, and Jimmy does the same for his part. It's awkward and uncomfortable and at some point Jimmy just sighs and hangs his head.

"This isn't working," he mutters, and Scott can't help but agree.

"I'm sorry," Scott says. Jimmy laughs hollowly.

"You don't have to be, I'm sorry. Don't worry about—"

"No, but I—"

"Scott."

Scott stops scanning the ballroom, meets Jimmy's eyes. The man is earnest, embarrassed, apprehensive, more that Scott can't discern. His hands long to cup Jimmy's cheeks, his lips long to kiss his fears away, but he can't. He won't.

"I need—" Jimmy starts to say, but the song comes to a halt and the next one starts and someone is tapping Jimmy on the shoulder and whirling him away.

Scott stands in the middle of the floor until Katherine takes his hand and leads him into an upbeat waltz.

He has to get out of here.

His hands still burn from holding Jimmy's waist and shoulder, emotions choke his throat and he can barely speak to his former friend (Katherine wouldn't break off alliances, she wouldn't condemn Jimmy's abusers, he won't be friends with anyone who doesn't want to protect Jimmy). She doesn't seem to mind, just fixes him with a bright smile and nudges him when he doesn't do the same. Right, Ilphas had told him to dance with Katherine. Their recent arguments have been showing in their alliance; it's best to have a united front. So he smiles back, asks after her flowers, and parts with a bow when the song ends.

He’s not sure where he goes after that (anywhere, as long as Jimmy isn’t there), but he eventually finds himself out on a balcony alone, noises of the ball drifting through the open doors behind him. The Mezelean air is cool, the ocean winds blowing in at night. He gazes out over the sparkling sea, heaves a deep breath.

He’s finding it very difficult to not crack under the pressure.

He’s not going to be here tomorrow, Scott decides. He’ll have his advisor make up an emergency that he has to attend to. He just can’t stand another moment of staring at Jimmy, knowing that he screwed everything up and Jimmy will never trust him and he’s hurting him.

Scott rests his arms on the decorative rail, lets his head fall into his hands. His white gloves are very nice and he’d prefer not to get his make-up on them, but alas. He’ll request another pair if they stain.

He can’t cry. Not here. But he can leave. His advisor will cover for him. The question is, right off the balcony? Or walk back through the crowd and make excuses?

“Fancy seeing you here, Scott.” Scott tenses at the voice. “Not really, seeing as we were both invited,” he says as casually as he can manage, turning to face Joey. The man is glaring hard at him, fingers tapping against his elbow. He nods over the side of the balcony.

“About to jump?” he asks, clearly disinterested. Scott shrugs.

“Was thinking about it. Maybe you’d like to try it first, tell me how the landing is.”

Joey laughs, high-pitched and obnoxious. “Mhm. Now, shouldn’t you be inside? Dancing with your little boytoy?”

Scott’s hands clench into fists. Joey’s one of Jimmy’s abusers, but he can’t start a brawl here. Not on the night of the royal wedding.

“Ah,” Joey says slowly, teasingly. He’s beside Scott now, too close for comfort. His voice lowers to a whisper. “Scott, if you don’t want to make a scene, I recommend you come quietly.”

Scott sputters out a laugh. Come quietly? Where, the washroom? “Right. And what’s gonna happen if I just jump off this balcony?”

Joey shrugs. “Well. We’ll just take Jimmy.”

“Take—take him where? Where?”

“I suppose you’ll find out, if you come with us. We only need one of you, after all.”

Oh no.

On the one hand, surely Lizzie and Joel can protect Jimmy from anything that goes wrong. On the other, there’s no way they can leave tonight, and there are three different people here who would orchestrate the kidnapping of Jimmy. They likely wouldn’t even notice until it was too late.

And what would they do to Jimmy, once they abducted him and hid him away?

Joey elbows him in the ribs, and Scott becomes aware of just how stiffly he’s holding himself. He can’t let anything happen to Jimmy. He’s sworn to protect him, and he’s not going to renege on that, not in any universe. Even if he wasn’t in love with him. Even if Jimmy was nothing to him.

Scott takes in a deep breath, is about to accept to go with them when—

“Scott!”

He freezes. Jimmy. He gives Joey a sideways glance; Joey mutters, “Act normal, or you’ll regret it.”

Scott forces himself to relax, turns around. The Codfather is standing there in the door, the light from within bringing out the gold in his hair, haloing him like an angel. He’s slightly out of breath, offers a small smile. “Dance?”

Scott doesn’t look at Joey. He simply nods, steps forward with his hand outstretched. Together, they reenter the ballroom, where the band is just now beginning a number somewhat faster than anything he’s danced so far. Jimmy twirls him out onto the floor, and Scott can’t help but laugh when they almost crash into another couple.

Then he meets Jimmy’s eyes and he remembers what Joey’s just said to him.

Behind Jimmy, dancing with a man Scott doesn’t know, Sausage is staring at Scott. Scott doesn’t like that at all. He feels the smile on his face slip for a moment; he replaces it quickly, hopes that Jimmy doesn’t notice.

Jimmy does, though, frowning as he asks, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Scott reassures him, maybe a tad too quickly. “Really,” he adds when Jimmy raises a brow. Aeor, but he’s beautiful. “I’m fine, I was just . . . thinking.”

There’s a couple of moments of silence as they weave through other couples, hair blown back a bit at the sheer speed they move with.

“I didn’t mean to force you to dance, by the way,” Jimmy says out of nowhere. “It’s just—Lizzie wouldn’t let me tell her you weren’t interested, and I haven’t told them what . . . what happened, so they don’t know that. . . .”

“That some boundaries were crossed,” Scott finishes, and Jimmy winces as he nods.

“Yeah. That.”

“As much as I would love to never speak of that night again,” Scott says, and he certainly wouldn’t, “we can be adults about this. I do not plan to cut off our alliance at all, if that’s all right with you.”

Jimmy nods, and relief washes across his face—of course it does, Jimmy doesn’t like him like that, Jimmy just needs some extra help protecting himself and Scott’s certainly got that under control.

“I was hoping you’d say that. I—you’re a really good friend,” Jimmy says, blushing, and Scott’s heart aches because he can’t be Jimmy’s friend. Not after he’s hurt him like this, not since he knows his own heart and he knows that the pain he’ll put himself through won’t be worth the occasional smile from Jimmy.

“Right,” Scott says after a pause, and he forces a smile. “And . . . I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly, that night. I should’ve explained myself.”

“No, no,” Jimmy says, patting his arm. “It’s fine. I understand. Really, I do.”

Does Jimmy get sensory overload sometimes too? If he does, he hides it pretty well. Scott wouldn’t have guessed. “I just . . . I shouldn’t have done that,” he finishes, and he hopes Jimmy knows he means the kiss.

Jimmy laughs ruefully. “Yeah, well, there’s things I shouldn’t have done either. Which . . . I’m really, truly sorry, Scott. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Now that’s a strange way of apologizing for something that Scott . . . Scott isn’t actually sure what Jimmy’s apologizing for. He didn’t do anything that night, everything had been Scott’s fault. He goes to ask what Jimmy’s talking about, only for Jimmy to continue.

“I was really worried that I ruined everything, and—well, I haven’t had many friends, I said earlier—Joel was my first ever friend and it’s just been Lizzie and Pixl since then, so I just . . . I don’t want to lose you too, which might be selfish—I’m sorry, you don’t have to be friends with me, it’s okay.”

And Scott doesn’t respond to that rambling, because he suddenly realizes what had bothered him about Jimmy’s speech earlier. He’d said that Joel was his first friend ever. Which—well, that simply can’t be true.

Scott’s known Joel since the man was born, had attended his naming ceremony, for Aeor’s sake. He had never even heard of Jimmy until around ten years ago when he appeared seemingly out of nowhere, ready to rebuild the empire that had been war-ravaged and leaderless for so many decades.

It’s not like Jimmy just spontaneously appeared in the world, a full-grown ruler, ten years past. There’s no way he hasn’t had friends before Joel, seeing as he hadn’t met Joel until ten years ago.

And Scott also realizes something else: Joel is twenty-nine. He’s always assumed Jimmy is in his mid-twenties, but that would put him as a teenager when he began ruling and there’s no way that’s possible. In fact, Jimmy hasn’t even seemed to age in those ten years. Scott’s just always mentally assigned him the age of twenty-five, with no thought to update that at any point.

“I—I’ll just go, yeah?” Jimmy says quietly, and Scott blinks to find that the dance has finished and they’re just standing in the middle of the floor while various individuals bow to their partners.

“Wait,” he says, trying to catch up with what’s been said. Oh, Aeor, he’s probably just acted like a total jerk, hasn’t he?

But Jimmy just gives him a little wave and disappears into the crowd, which is beginning to gather around Lizzie and Joel for some purpose. Scott’s alone in the back—alone until something brushes his back and he goes to turn his head.

“Don’t,” comes a whispered voice. fWhip.

Anger rears in Scott’s chest, white and hot, but he stands perfectly still, jaw clenched.

“You’re a smart guy, Scott, so you’re going to do exactly as I tell you,” fWhp continues, voice low enough that nobody but Scott can hear. “You know what’ll happen if you don’t.”

Scott’s eyes find Jimmy, a little red in the face at the center of attention as he places a wreath of flowers around Joel’s neck.

“That’s right. So here’s what’s gonna happen, bud. You’re gonna finish watching whatever this is, and then you’re going to make your advisor believe that you’re heading home. I don’t care how, but do it and be convincing. Then you’ll go outside and down to the docks, where Joey will be waiting.”

“What next?” Scott grits out, hating that he’s allowed himself to be put in this position. If he tries to tell anyone, Jimmy’s gone. He has to save Jimmy.

“Oh, there’s someone who just wants to have a little chat,” fWhip teases. “Don’t worry about it too much. See ya soon!”

The pressure on his back vanishes and Scott swallows. He doesn’t have a choice. He’s sworn to protect Jimmy.

Whatever they want can’t be that bad, can it? Scott’s one of the most powerful emperors around. He’s certainly been ruling the longest (with the possible exceptions of Pixl, who Scott can’t remember ever not ruling but he could very easily be wrong; and Katherine, who has been alive as long as Scott has), has the most impregnable empire, has some of the most sway out of anyone else in the House Blossom Alliance. They wouldn’t dare hurt him, not when he can easily ruin their lives.

Scott searches through the laughing crowd, meets his advisor’s eyes. At a head jerk from him, they sigh and make their way to him.

“Don’t tell me—” “I have to go,” Scott says seriously. They sigh again.

“Sire, I cannot—”

“It’s the demon.”

They fall silent. Out of everyone in this room, Ilphas is the only to understand the true magnitude of what it means that the demon is terrorizing the world.

“I’m heading straight to Rivendell,” Scott tells them, already beginning to step away. “Please send my apologies to the newlyweds.” He thinks for a moment. “And maybe make our present more extravagant, if possible. As an additional apology.”

Ilphas clucks their tongue, rolls their eyes fondly. “So very like your mother, sometimes. Hurry on, then, while no one is watching. I’ll cover for you.”

Scott chooses to not comment on the mother thing, mutters a farewell, and flees. He slips out of the ballroom, back onto the balcony, where he checks behind through the frosted glass to make sure nobody’s watching before spreading his wings and gliding away.

He circles the docks for a moment, finding the small figure of Joey—and another, Sausage, he thinks. Great.

Scott lands in front of them, straightens his shirt. “What do you want?” he says brusquely, rolling his shoulders. He can take them in a fight if need be. They’re both here, fWhip’s somewhere not in the ballroom. He can take them both down and contact Lizzie to warn her of fWhip coming for Jimmy. His fingers flex.

“Straight to business!” Joey exclaims, while Sausage stares him down.

“Oh, there’s just someone who wants a little chat,” Sausage says, and the words are so eerily similar to what fWhip said that Scott—

There’s a crash, and Scott gasps as his head bursts into stinging pain. Glass and some sort of liquid fall out of his hair when he turns, turns and finds fWhip behind him, who waves mischievously.

“Have a good sleep!” fWhip says, words distant as if from far away, and Scott goes to swipe at him but his arms move ever so slowly—

He’s been hit with a drug, he realizes, blinking and blinking, but the darkness encroaching on his vision doesn’t retreat and before he knows it, he’s on his knees . . . he’s tipping over . . . he’s on the ground, cool cobble pressing into his cheek . . . the pain in his head dulls to an ache and as he loses his grasp on consciousness, he begs Aeor to not let them hurt Jimmy.

Aptly, Jimmy is the only one to notice Scott’s disappearance.

He doesn’t say anything about it, assuming it’s his own fault that the elf had felt unwelcome, but the next morning is the Mezelean airshow and Scott’s the only emperor not present.

Jimmy doesn’t even think to go to the Rivendell advisor, who is still present. Instead, he sneaks away from the airshow (it’s not like he can’t see it from other places) and looks for any trace of him.

There’s nothing. His suite of rooms (of course Jimmy snuck in, why wouldn’t he?) still has all of his clothes for the week. The bed is unmade.

Something about this isn’t right, and Jimmy’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

Somewhere deep underground, Scott wakes up in a cell.

#empires smp #esmp #flower husbands #mcyt #trust au #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #empires fanfic #mas writes #how we feelin about this one folks??#this fic takes a bit longer than my others #just bc i want it to be a contained story in each part #and it takes a lot of planning #hope everyone's day is going well #taglist will be in the rbs #lmk what you think #love you guys

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kkusuka · 4 years ago

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Our little corner of the garden.

based on a request miss Puppy submitted that i was so in love with, i changed it a bit but its mostly of the request lol

the request: Imagine y/n is being forced into an arranged married to better her fathers company but obviously she hates the idea but she loves her dad so she agrees. Oikawa on the other hand refuses to let the love of his life go so with the help of Iwa Oikawa got a suit and crash y/n’s wedding. It was right before the bride had to walk. Y/N standing in her bridal suite wearing her beautiful and expensive wedding dress trying not to pass out when Oikawa walked in “wow, don’t you look gorgeous” “Tooru!? What are you doing here!?” Oikawa explains how much he loves her and he can take care of her and she can live her life free of unfair responsibilities. Oikawa asks y/n to run away with him to Argentina to marry him. Y/n ends up agreeing and they run out of the chapel giggling hand in hand while a cheering Iwa is in the drivers seat of the love birds getaway car and yes please I thought that would be so cute 🥺🥺🥺-✨Puppy🤩

relationship: Oikawa Tooru x reader, slight Atsumu x reader, and iwaizumi hajime is mentioned <3

genre: angst with a happy ending

synopsis: the moment he had lead you into the small corner of the garden your heart was his.

words: 2.4k

notes:i turned it into a royal AU because it adds more flare. i shed more than a few tears while writing this and it has to be my favorite thing I’ve ever published. and that's saying a lot. i hope you enjoy it as much as i do <3

also may or may not be influenced by speak now by taylor swift

Since you could remember there have been two constants in your life.

The first was a bubbly bright-eyed boy Oikawa Tooru.

You had both met on the eve of your seventh birthday, a day you dreaded. Your mother used any and all family events to invite every prominent family in the kingdom for a night of celebration. A night you couldn't participate in due to your age; an answer to a question that you hated to hear.

In your six-year-old mind, the best way to handle your anger was to run to the garden and hide for as long as you could humanly manage. You flung the most desolate corner and squatted right down, head between your knees.

You sat there for what felt like hours until a small pat on your back had you reeling your head to look at who dared to interrupt your pity-party. No one should know where you went and if they did they should know better than to touch you.

But turning and seeing the warmest brown eyes in the world was not what you had expected. The setting sun behind his tufts of chocolate brown hair made him look like he had a halo. Maybe your nights of prayer had worked, god had sent you an angel.

“Now Missy princess, I ain’t a professional but sittin’ like that can't be nice. ‘Cmon up missy girl!”

You aren't sure if you believed his words or if you were so mesmerized by him that you locked hands and let him pull you up revealing the two-inch difference in your height. A difference that he didn't let go of for the rest of the night.

He brought you to a small crevice in the high-leaved walls of your family's garden, settling you down he told you his name: Oikawa Tooru and that he lived in the servants quarters with his mother.

Along with that, you learned of his interest in catching a real-life alien, by the time the sun had fully settled you could hear your name called from the pathway Oikawa had led you down hours before, they had found you, it was time to go.

Oikawa led you back down the track making you promise to come back the next day to form a plan that no alien could avoid. And so every afternoon into the evening at dinner was spent telling stories and making contraptions that you were sure no alien could averse to.

You couldn't count how many times your childhood rebellion had got you in trouble with your more than disappointed parents. Not even their cliche speeches about being of a high standard and not meddling with peasants were able to deter you from seeing him.

One thing was for certain: Oikawa Tooru became your first friend.

The second constant was the fact you would never be able to have your own future.

You learned this at five years old when your mother began to groom you into the perfect bride she expected you to be. Managing to convince you to finally start taking lessons at age 15 by mentioning how late everything already was.

You liked to pretend the etiquette lessons are just because your mother wanted you to act like a lady. But the back of your mind always reminded you it was because she wanted you to be a great wife. She didn't care if you could hold a teacup properly, she cared if anyone else noticed.

You used your speech classes to strengthen your voice for when Oikawa asked you to sing for him when he wanted to sleep. Not because you needed to make speeches when you are crowned queen. It didn't matter that you were a complimented orator, you cared that in his daily letter to you he complimented how soft your voice was as it lulled him to sleep.

Your favorite was the dance lessons, the same ones where you would run to see Tooru in your secluded corner of the garden and teach him everything you learned. You'd spend hours telling him the ‘proper’ way to place his foot as he laughs at you about how up-tight you sound. Of course, he always listens, continuing to twirl you around with the utmost pristine.

These dances made you think about the ever-growing difference in height the two of you shared, no longer were you two inches taller than the brown-haired boy. Now the small boy you once knew towered over you, and he constantly reminded you of it.

“Aw! y/n you look so tiny from here!” he laughed as he held you from the waist and led you in a waltz that he was making up as the music went on. Emphasizing his point by placing a palm on your head ruffling your hair and once again laughing as your cheeks puffed out.

His voice was no longer high-pitched and no longer cracked when he whined about how annoying your mother was being. His deep voice lingered in your mind as you laid away in your bed after he dropped you off hours before, like a whisper in the night.

Nothing else had changed about him, his eyes were still the warmest and lightest you've ever seen and his hair was still just as soft as it looked. He still smiled like the world was at his feet and he still conspired with you about the aliens that WERE coming.

He was still your Tooru. Your Toru had grown so he could tilt your chin to look him in the eye. Your Tooruthat teased you by whispering improper things during gatherings, the same whispers that send chills down your spine. Your Tooru, whose hands grab your waist and leave ghostly touches on you for weeks, the same hands that envelop you and drag you to the gardens.

Your Tooru that you’ve been in love with since you met in the evening in your garden. The same love you would never indulge.

A love that you have been preparing to lose yet at the same time you would never release.

At 17 you had received the news you had blocked out of your life: your parents had found you a suitable husband. You were sure he was wonderful, but the idea repulsed you.

And it seemed to repulse Tooru even more. He had gone silent the second you came to him teary-eyed, spouting about how you would never be free again. For hours he held your shaking form telling you he would make sure you were happy no matter what.

Beginning the next day Oikawa tried to spend every waking moment by your side, running through the halls, late-night cooking when neither of you could sleep, and even taking your parent's crowns and pretending you were dancing at both of your coronations.

Weeks upon weeks you spent basking in each other's company doing everything to ignore the impending doom you rapidly approached. And finally, your sphere of bliss with Tooru was broken when your first meeting with your future husband was announced.

Atsumu Miya was wonderful. He was handsome and funny, knew how to converse, and your parents seemed to thoroughly enjoy his presence. And he was extremely nice to you, making you feel as if you’d known him your whole life.

But one thing had you entirely consumed the whole visit: Atsumu Miya was not Oikawa Tooru. Not in the slightest.

How was it possible they had the same brown eyes but Tooru’s were so much brighter and they looked at you like you were the entire world. How is it that Atsumu looked at you like everyone else? he didn't make you feel special.

Atsumu’s hair was not the soft brown you were accustomed to, his hair was colored an ugly yellow that you couldn't tell if your opinion was biased or you were beginning to hate the color.

Atsumu’s smile was not the warm, sweet tilt of Tooru’s lips, instead, it was a tight, flirty smirk that unsettled you to the core. Atsumu didn't have the cute tilt of Tooru’s eyes when he smiled.

He was simply not Tooru. And that would simply not do.

Somewhere in your mind, you knew that no one could replace Tooru. You were all his no matter who you were set to marry.

And that fact didn't help when he volunteered to help choose flowers. It was hard to swallow when he chose napkins and helped with the centerpieces. You wanted to scream when he asked if he could cake taste with you. You wanted to run and never come back when he sat and watched you try on the hand-tailored dress for your big day.

You held on to the delusion that you and Tooru were planning your own wedding, not you and another man who would never hold a place in your heart. That you and he were baking a cake that you and he would cut the next day, then go to a beautiful island and live in domestic bliss for the rest of your natural lives, maybe to meet in the next.

The hardest to swallow was the visit to the corner of the garden the night before you give up your freedom. How he pulled you into his embrace asking if the two of you could practice your first dance with Atsumu, “just to practice” he reminds.

“I can't believe you're getting married” he mused while rearranging his hands to the middle of your waist. Rocking you back and forth as you hugged your arms around his back. “Do you remember the first time we came to this spot? You were pouting about your birthday, and me, the amazing Oikawa Tooru, was the only one who could help you.”

He kept you tucked into his chest as he continued to list all of the most important memories the two of you shared in your corner of the garden.

“This really is our corner Tooru.”

“Yeah…. It really is, do you mind if I add another memory to our corner?”

He kissed you right there, holding on to whatever he could of your love.

Oikawa Tooru was not a prince.

That fact haunted him since that eve of your seventh birthday. He was the son of a barmaid who gained work doing labor in the castle for food and a place to stay. Not someone whom the crowned princess should associate with.

And the head knight in training thought exactly that, Iwaizumi Hajime was his closest confidant since coming to the country of Aoba, his best friend. And also the grounder of all of Tooru’s ridiculous rambling about spending the rest of his life catching aliens with you.

Oikawa has to give it to him, Iwaizumi did a good job making sure he didn’t do anything too stupid. Unfortunately, he couldn't talk him out of meeting you one last time before he’d probably never see you again.

He held you in his arms one last time, telling you all of his favorite memories he held so dearly, back when you had all the time in the world. Back when the two of you were invincible.

Back to when he wished he just grabbed you and told you everything you made him feel, all the times he just wanted to scream how much he loved you.

He wasn't a prince in the eyes of everyone else, but he didn't need to be when he had you.

Oikawa Tooru was not a prince, but when had that mattered to him anyway?

Before you could fully wake, you were being pulled in a thousand different directions for last-minute dress fittings and checking the venue a final time before being whisked away for someone to do your hair.

You didn't even realize what was happening until you were being once more uprooted and told to wait in a small fitting room. For what felt like hours you waited, thinking about what your new, presumably miserable, life would be like.

The two women helping you in your dress were far more excited than you were, a lump had formed in your throat and if they didn't leave you alone and stop talking about your soon-to-be husband, you were going to be sick.

You looked beautiful, whoever did your hair and makeup did wonderfully. You looked like a bride. Maybe you could get through this if you closed your eyes and pretend it was Tooru and not the blonde who was getting ready across the hall somewhere.

You were given your bouquet and a long veil was placed on your head, it was finally time. No more dancing in the garden or making traps for the pesky aliens. No more Oikawa Tooru.

Somewhere in your thoughts, you missed when the door opened and a hand was placed on your back.

Turning over your shoulder to see the same brown eyes that you have for the past eleven years and the same soft brown hair you've braided and run your hands through. It wasn't the sun but the light in the room as you looked up at him made it look like he had a halo. God really had sent you an angel.

“Now missy, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be happy on your wedding day.”

You couldn't think of anything but the way he was smiling at you, the same smile he had while leading you down the path all those years ago. The same one who was leading you out of the room to a side exit door,

“And I've been doing some thinking, I can't just let the woman I love go and marry someone else just like that. Especially not to come half-ass wanna be casanova!”

He was lifting the veil off your face, wiping away the flood of tears coming down your cheeks as you brought your hand up to help him with his.

“So, princess y/n l/n, would you follow me to make some more memories?”

“Oh, I'd follow you to the ends of the earth Prince Oikawa Tooru.”

#oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa angst #oikawa fluff #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x reader angst #oikawa x reader angst #oikawa x reader fluff #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #hq #hq!!#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x you

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taeyohonic · 4 years ago

Text

stolen dances | chap. 8

summary: sometimes supporting the person you love is the hardest challenge you’ll ever face.

pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

rating: m

warning: swearing

additional tags: f2l, ceo!jungkook, bestfriend!jungkook, shrink!yoongi, my best friend’s wedding meets 27 dresses (if the boss/secretary couple had happened), angst-y

words: 2200

links: prev. | next [masterlist]

note: lower case letters intended

chapter summary: maybe there are too many red flags to ingore.

“what do you mean the menu changed?”, you hiss into the receiver, not caring how your colleague aches an eyebrow at your harsh tone.

“mr. jeon’s assistant called yesterday and demanded the gluten free pasta to be added instead of the duchess potatoes.” your caterer sounds as lost as you feel.

“but… the duchess is gluten free – now there’ll be a double pasta dish for entrée and sides”, you explain to the person who professionally cooks. never would you have imagined you’d be this upset about a vegetable.

“i’m doing what mr. jeon wants, ms. _____. my apologies.” yeah well, jungkook doesn’t know what he wants. his cold shoulder equals an iced crystal – your best friend has been mute even after getting back from his business trip. all the information you need as his unofficial wedding planner are thrown at you from different partners – like the caterer today or the florist last monday.

it’s seems like jungkook really wants to sabotage his own wedding to win this fight between the two of you. until now you’ve let him throw his childish temper tantrum, passively accommodating his changed decisions. but you’re drawing the line at the duchess potato.

“very well”, you say to the caterer. “i know you’re just doing your job – sorry for being rude. i can’t wait to taste… the gluten free pasta.”

the chef on the other end chuckles at your faked enthusiasm and you soon join.

“will you be there for the cocktail testing?”, he asks and you rummage through your desk, finding your planner in milliseconds.

“of course, it’s still on saturday?”, you ask, not trusting jungkook to change dates just to mess with your schedule.

after confirming the date, the two of you hang up and you start to pack up for the day. you’ll do the log entries for your students from home.

“everything okay, ___?”, your coworker jisoo questions, seeing you leave earlier than normal.

“yeah, don’t worry. i just… forgot an appointment. see you tomorrow”, you answer absently taking your prepacked lunch from the community fridge to eat later.

after taking two different trains and one bus, your self-made hummus is looking more like vomit than food as you stand in front of jungkook’s office building. but with your stomach in knots, you lose all appetite.

“miss ______, what a lovely surprise!”, the doorman greets you with an honest smile on his face. normally jungkook would send one of his town cars to collect you for your weekly lunch. to see you getting out of a bus worries the employee.

“how is the family, hanseo?”, you ask and answer his smile with one of your own.

“all well and healthy, miss! mr. jeon just got back from his meeting”, he informs you warmly and you bow in thanks.

with swift steps you move to the elevator, ready to make jungkook listen. arriving at the final floor, you greet his secretary with a short hug, your eyes already set on his closed door.

“may i go in?”, you ask mrs. yang – not really up to date on jungkook’s schedule. her knowing eyes stare right through your question.

“he’s all yours for the next hour; i’ll hold all phone calls.” you nod silently grateful for her discretion.

two loud knocks are the only forewarning jungkook gets before you barge into his office. your best friend sits at his desk, the top buttons of his shirt undone. his neatly styled hair and the reading glasses tell you that the last few hours were full of business decisions and negotiations.

his tired eyes look at you in surprise, before they cloud over with indifference.

“_____”

no ‘hey, how’ve you been the last week?’, no ‘did you manage to grab the credit card i forgot at the restaurant i stormed out of?’, no ‘i’m sorry, i canceled your favorite potato dish’.

“jungkook”, you greet him and hate yourself for how soft your voice sounds. your feet won’t allow you to move further into the room as your body stands still right next to the closing door.

a hefty silence sets around you, while the two of you muster the other. you notice the bags under his eyes – even with the expensive concealer covering the dark rings.

“_____”, your best friend says again, uncomfortable with the tension in his office.

“jungkook”, you answer, mimicking his tactic.

two estranged friends smile timidly at each other, before the CEO gets up from his seat and closes the distance. in front of you, he hesitates for a breath, but then you are in his arms. your winter coat and heavy bag create a barrier which jungkook crushes easily. he presses your body close to his chest, the suit jacket tightening around his shoulder blades.

you embrace him back, just as fiercely, and inhale his musky scent. he smells like love and you feel your eyes water.

“you’re a jerk”, you whisper against his neck, not ready to let go, but willing to work through your anger. the former idol huffs and buries his nose deeper in your hair. you can feel his breathe against your scalp and thank the lord with a silent prayer for taking a shower this morning.

“i know”, jungkook admits as he manages to squeeze you tighter at the same time.

“you’re a child”, you continue while drawing soft patterns across his shoulder blades with your fingertips.

“i know”

another silence follow – but it’s one without anger. it feels like going on vacation. nevertheless, problems need to be face, you’ve learned that from your shrink. so, with a heavy heart, you lose your embrace and try to step away from your best friend. after reluctantly holding on to you, he huffs and lets you go.

“have you eaten?”

“jungkook, we need to talk about this”, you tell him while the both of you sit on the leather couch. you have to suppress the impulse to take off your shoes, an old habit after the long nights spent in his office.

“when did you eat lunch, ____?”, he asks again and loses his suit jacket. the white button up shirt underneath looks a size too small, which troubles your heart greatly. jungkook doesn’t seem to notice, his focus remains on your eating habits.

“jungkook, i’ll eat later, promise”, you deflect and pat your bag with the hummus vegetable stew in it. your best friend doesn’t seem impressed.

“you’re upset because i haven’t told you about a close friend of mine”, you start, only to see him grimace at your wording.

“for five months”, he specifies.

“it never came up in conversation, jungkook. you… you don’t know all details of my life”, you justify yourself while mentally bowing at your backbone.

“yesterday, your mother invited me to their vow renewal, i can open a whole art gallery with your food pictures and i helped you plan a funeral for your living room plant last month”, jungkook replies astonished. “i even held the eulogy.”

yeah, fair, you’ll never forget seokjin’s oscar worthy crying scene in front of the calathea. even jimin was impressed.

“but you can’t introduce me to the guy accompanying you to my wedding?” there is a thick, and reasonable, accusation behind his words. you feel your hands sweat as you look at the tired eyes of your best friend.

“i’m afraid you won’t like him”, you offer. it’s the most logical explanation you could come up with after your phone call with taehyung. when truthfully, you are more afraid of the person yoongi will see in you face-to-face with jungkook.

but your best friend seems to buy your white lie. his face softens as he rests one hand on your knee.

“_____”, jungkook starts, “every friend of yours is a friend of mine.” you snort right into his words, not believing him for a second.

“you put my last boyfriend into jail.” the answering chuckle from him does not sound one bit apologetic.

“he was trash.” you know he’s right, still, his distrust was there before it turned out that your ex-boyfriend committed tax fraud.

“what about jisoo?”, you ask. “you’ve never warmed up to her.”

jungkook looks like he just swallowed something bitter at the name of your coworker.

“she hit on me.” his reveal shocks you.

“but she has a fiancé!”, you exclaim, only to see him roll his eyes.

“she hit on me”, he repeats unforgiving.

just… great.

“yoongi is different”, you say softly, not ready to reflect on jisoo’s audacity. it’s quite common for others to hit on jeon jungkook – he’s famous after all. but your own friend?

“let me be the judge”, jungkook demands equally soft and squeezes your knee.

“i’m not asking for your judgement, kookie”, you huff. you don’t need his approval. and yoongi sure as hell doesn’t want it.

“but”, you start again, “i think it’ll be best if you got to know him before the wedding.” you’ve thought about this a lot. it seems like the best course of action. even if you can’t picture yoongi and jungkook in the same room.

“he isn’t invited to the wedding”, your best friend scowls like a child. now you push his hand from your knee, irritated by his actions.

“he is”, you press, not willing to back down. jungkook’s eyes flash in anger.

“you can go with taehyung. he still has to make amends for fucking the DJs”, the CEO offers businesslike and moves up from the couch, like he just singlehandedly solved the problem.

“i don’t need a pity partner, jeon. i – there is a person who actually wants to go with me to your wedding”, you bite back. sure, you had to beg yoongi, but you won’t disclose that now. you’ve seen his gummy smile last week as he tried on expensive suits. he looked way too happy and handsome.

your best friend pushes some documents around his desk, deep in thoughts.

“as my best man you won’t have much time to be with him during the wedding. he will be alone in the midst of strangers. it’ll make him uncomfortable”, he tries to reason. you can’t help but roll your eyes – yoongi’s whole job description is to talk to strangers and make them feel safe. but wait…

“i’m not your best man, jungkook.” you’ve scheduled the event. seokjin’s best man speech comes right before the main course. you even sent the man some keynotes, with topics not to add to his roast.

“you got upgraded”, jungkook states with a shrug. no, no, no, no, no.

“you’ll have to rearrange the seating chart – the place next to my parents’ is now yours.”

“jungkook”, you breathe, astonished by his thoughts, “i’m not your best man.”

he tenses at your refusal, but won’t admit defeat too soon.

“you’re my best friend, so you should be my best man as well”, he says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“she was against it at first – some bullshit about gender norms and how the photos will look. but, ____, not talking to you for this long made me realize, that you are way more important than seokjin.”

you can see the red flags wave behind jungkook as you feel your heart quicken at his words.

“jungkook” no longer is your voice angry. the sadness in your tone makes jungkook flinch while looking at you from across the room.

“we’ve both created very – very idolized versions of one another”, you start to explain. “maybe you think of me as important – but jungkook, there is so much we haven’t shared with each other.”

he shakes his head, willing to interrupt, but you hold your hands up in warning.

“jungkook, i lo- i like being with you a lot these last few years. but there are parts of you i’ve never met. i never shared your trainee days with you, the hardship, the success. i was only an unknown fan cheering your band on from afar.”

you take a deep breath. “but even now, you still surprise me with new sides of yourself. leaving me on an island? disinviting my plus one? that’s not the jungkook i know. and that’s sure as hell not someone i want to toast to.”

your best friend looks like you’ve just broken something dear to him and you can feel the defeat in your bones.

“seokjin is your best man, jungkook”, you end and smile at the CEO who won’t look at you anymore. before you can move closer to him, the door opens.

“mr. jeon, your next appointment is waiting.” mrs. yang sounds apologetic and looks uncomfortable between the two of you – so far apart.

jungkook nods at his secretary and she closes the door, leaving you to finish the train wreck of a conversation.

“are we no longer best friends, ____?”, he whispers as he logs into his computer. his posture screams dismissal, but you can see how tensed his shoulders are and how hard is mind is working.

you have to suppress the coo on the tip of your tongue.

“jungkook – you are my best friend. you are a person of the utmost importance to me.”

“you still like me?” i love you, you fool.

“i still like you way too much for my own good.”

he nods silently and you can see the tiniest smile spreading across his lips.

you leave without goodbye, only to feel your phone vibrating in your pocket while the elevator rushes to the lobby.

bring your plus one to this week’s movie night.

before you can send a smiley face in responds, an email form the caterer pops up.

subject: duchess potatoes are back.

_____

happy new year! i hope you all have a healthy and kind 2021! let’s make life better by wearing our masks, helping others in need and supporting those who experienced hardship during this tiering time!

i know i promised yoongi/jungkook cat fight – but the chapter got so ugly that i squeezed in this scene of reader und kookie talking about this mess. so that yoongs won’t bleed during game night.

i’d love to hear from you all, it’s been really silent in my virtual life…

all the best and the warmest of hugs from, dana

taglist: @livewittykid @thequeen-kat @kagami-s-void @goldenclosethobi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @jinsalpaca @bishuthot @laabellaavitaa21 @baekstans @jalexad @kimluvwoo @jinsearthh

#btswriterscollective #bangtanuniversity #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #idol!jungkook #ceo!jungkook #bts x reader #bts angst #bts scenarios

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bluesylveon2 · 4 years ago

Text

My My, I Could Never Let You Go

Summary: Sasha Zoe just wants her dad to walk her down the aisle. There is only one problem: she doesn't know who her dad is! Sasha invites 3 men in hopes of finding out which one is her father. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairings: Levi x Hange, Sasha x Niccolo, and other background relationships

Disclaimer: This is a Levihan Mamma Mia au. This fanfic is inspired by Mamma Mia which is directed by Phyllida Loyd, written by Catherine Johnson, and uses music from the pop group ABBA. Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha

Author’s Note 1: Hello! This is the Levihan Mamma Mia au that I came up with one day after watching the movie. I mentioned this idea @fanmoose12 blog as an anon, and it received a lot of good feedback so here I am! 🥳 This is my first fanfic and I hope it makes sense and you enjoy it. I will do my best to give this idea justice. Don’t expect it to be an exact replica of the movie. The movie inspired the fic, so there will be some changes. Expect possibly weekly updates, but it may change because I’m in university. For example, this would have been out earlier, but I took a nap because I was exhausted from school. Please understand and enjoy! 😁

EDIT: changed the amount of days Mike was with Hange to 6. Reason? Refer to A/N in ch 15

Read more chapters here!

Prologue

Greece

3 months before the wedding

It was a quiet night on the Greek island of Kalokairi. All of the residents were sound asleep except for one: Sasha Zoe.

Sasha was rowing her boat towards the nearby island of Skiathos with a mission. She felt many emotions go through her as she got closer to the island.

She felt excited and very nervous at the same time. Sasha began to hum a song her mom sang to her as a child to help calm herself down.

She finally makes it to the port and docks her boat before locating the mailbox. Sasha quietly hums to herself again as she makes her way to the yellow mailbox. The mailbox is the key to the answer to her ongoing question.

She takes a deep breath when she reaches the mailbox, gives herself a short pep talk, opens it, and looks over the letters one last time.

“Mike Zacharias” drop

“Erwin Smith” drop

“Levi Ackerman” drop

Sasha closes the mailbox and makes her way back to the dock and leaves Skiathos before anyone on the Kalokairi notices her absence. She sends a quick prayer for each letter to make it to its respectful destination on time and heads back to Kalokairi.

Together with their families

Sasha Zoe & Niccolo Bottura

Invite you to share in their happiness as they join hands in marriage

7:00 in the evening | July 28 20XX

Agios Ioannis Kastri

Kalokairi, 370 03

Greece

Dinner and dancing to follow

Timeskip

Frankfurt, Germany

3 days before the wedding

Levi Ackerman rushed out of Cafe Kuchel when his shift ended and put his best employee, Eld, in charge while he was away. He met his butler/personal driver, Gunther, standing outside of his car before hastily throwing his things to the car and heading to Frankfurt Airport for his flight.

Now Levi is typically a well kept and organized guy, but now was not the time to think about his appearance when his mind is full of Hange Zoe.

Yes, Hange Zoe. The woman he consciously met when Levi booked a random flight to Greece to escape responsibilities back home. It was a bit selfish of him to do, but Levi was tired of everyone constantly breathing down his neck when he wanted some peace.

He knew of Kalokairi thanks to his cousin, Furlan, who took his wife, Isabel, there on vacation a few years ago.

Levi met Hange while he was in Skiathos. She introduced herself first and Levi only gave her his first name. He didn’t want to reveal his last name to her yet. Hange told Levi how she wanted to go to Kalokairi because her cousin often visited the island. Levi. not wanting to give too much away, told Hange how he was on vacation to have some peace.

Hange suggested they explore the island together. Levi was surprised that she practically invited a total stranger to hang out with her.

‘Her vision must be really shitty’ he thought but agreed after seeing the cute look on her face.

They both got to know more about each other on the ferry, and they clicked really well. Hange would go on and on about her dreams, and Levi was there to listen.

Levi didn't show it, but he was interested in hearing Hange talk. He could listen to her for hours.

It was then when Levi knew he didn’t regret saying yes to her offer. He decided to take her to a few spots Furlan mentioned. One spot was a private beach on the island Furlan and Isabel accidentally found one day.

Hange and Levi spent 12 days together exploring the island and getting to know more about each other. Soon enough they both started to fall in love with one another.

Levi cannot forget the special night he spent with Hange. To him, it felt like a dream, and he never wanted to wake up.

Of course, he had no choice but to when he saw Hange’s heartbroken face that day. Levi was ready to beg on his knees and ask for her forgiveness, but Hange practically kicked him out of the island. She threw his stuff out of her house and yelled about how she never wanted to see him again before slamming the door on his face. Hange left him no choice but to return home with his broken heart.

As Levi looked out the window, he couldn’t stop thinking about the letter and why it took Hange so many years to finally reach out. Did she forgive him? Is she planning on humiliating him when they meet again? He felt like he deserved it anyway.

Levi started thinking about the mysterious Sasha Zoe. It’s obvious she is Hange’s kid, but who is the father? More importantly, where is he, so he can beat him up.

Gunther glanced up at the rearview mirror to find Levi glaring at everything passing by. What he didn’t see was Levi's determination to get his answer from Hange one way or another. First, he needs Gunther to drive faster.

“Speed up,” Levi says before going back to thinking about Hange again.

His mom once told him to live his life with no regrets. The thing is, Levi only has one regret, and it was letting Hange Zoe walk out of his life that day.

New York City (NYC), USA

2 before the wedding

Erwin Smith held his suitcase in hand as he navigated his way through the JFK airport to get to his flight to Skiathos in Greece. He thought about Hange as he made it to the gate and sat down. They met when he visited Kalokairi after the suggestion made by his colleague, Dot Pixis. Apparently, Pixis bought him a 5-day pass to Kalokairi so Erwin can take a vacation from college and go to Greece.

Erwin had a feeling Pixis had an unsaid plan for him to see the beautiful women there.

Erwin quietly laughed to himself at the thought. Pixis wasn’t technically wrong when he said there were beautiful women in Kalokairi. It was where he met Hange while on his vacation. Erwin reminisces on how lost he was on the island and knew no Greek at all. It was then when Hange approached him with her yellow crop top and high waisted forest green palazzo pants. She asked if he was lost and offered to be his guide and translator.

Soon enough, Erwin fell in love with her free-spirited personality and how her smile can attract anyone to look at her. He even got to spend the night with her on the fourth day.

Sadly, all good things had to go to an end, and Erwin had to return back to NYC. Erwin would never forget how devastated Hange looked when he announced his departure. He gives Hange his great grandfather’s emerald bolo tie on his last day in Kalokairi.

“Take this, Hange. I kept this bolo tie with me for luck. I hope this gives you luck and you can look at it to remember me.” Erwin kissed Hange one last time before heading to the ferry.

It wasn’t until he spent one whole day in his penthouse in NYC that Erwin realized he needed to see Hange again.

Erwin booked tickets to Skiathos that morning and was back on Skiathos the next morning. Erwin makes it to the port to find Hange on the island too. However, she was on a yacht with another guy and didn’t notice Erwin at all. He noticed her hug him, kiss his cheek, and give the mystery guy the same smile she used with him. It broke Erwin's heart and he thought she already forgot about him.

(Little did he know that Hange kept the bolo tie in the pocket of the dress she was wearing for luck)

Erwin thought he was lucky when she didn’t notice him. She didn't have to see his broken heart as he left the port to go back to NYC.

Erwin sometimes wondered what would have happened had he left for Greece earlier. He was shocked when received the letter after so many years. The biggest mystery was being invited to a wedding, especially when he didn't personally know the bride.

He had a feeling the bride was Hange’s daughter. The unanswered question was who is Sasha’s father? Was it the mystery guy he saw Hange with or another man?

Erwin sighed at the thought as he made his way through the gates and into the plane. He knows he may not get Hange’s heart again, but he hopes to at least see Hange’s smile one more time.

Gothenburg, Sweden

2 days before the wedding

Mike Zacharias was texting his friend Gelgar before his flight to Skiathos. He planned on visiting his grandmother’s grave in Kalokairi after the mystery wedding he was invited to.

He found it strange that Hange invited him to a wedding when he doesn’t know the couple getting married. However, Mike noticed how Sasha had the same last name as Hange, so he decided to attend to investigate.

“I hope Hange has the answer.” Mike thought to himself

Mike started to reminisce about Hange and how close she was to his grandma. It was almost 21 years ago when he visited his Kalokairi, and he remembered how his grandma couldn’t stop talking about a woman named Hange every time he called her. Mike decided to search for her the next time he visited Kalokairi.

Mike was at Skiathos heading to his yacht while also thinking about Hange. He was too caught up thinking about her that he accidentally bumped into a woman and caused her to fall and drop a few things from the impact. He picked her up from the ground while the other women that were with her picked up the items she dropped.

Mike apologized and introduced himself after they cleaned up their mess. Hange introduced herself and her friends Nanaba and Rico.

“You're the one helping Alexandra Zacharias, right?” Mike asked

“That’s me!” Hange replied happily “You must be her grandson Mike. Mrs. Sasha talks about you often!”

Mike realized that his grandmother must trust Hange a lot to reveal her nickname from when she lived in Russia. If his grandma can trust Hange, then he should too.

“Let me help you carry everything to my yacht, and bring you back to Kalokairi as an apology for earlier” Mike insisted

“That’s perfect!” the three girls exclaim happily before following Mike to his yacht.

(Mike also noted how Hange smelled like white musk and vanilla. Nanaba had a fruity smell, and Rico had a woody oriental smell).

Mike couldn’t forget Hange's smile before she hugged him and kissed his cheek after they left the port.

Once they reached Kalokairi, Mike accompanied the girls to his grandma’s villa to help drop off her stuff. They ate dinner at the villa and the girls listened to his grandma tell embarrassing stories of Mike as a child.

After dinner, Mike took the girls to a bar he used to frequent after giving his grandma’s caretaker instructions while they were out. The group spent most of the night at the bar while getting to know more about each other, sharing stories, and having fun.

At the end of the night, Mike walked the girls back to Hange’s house as they were exhausted for the day. Hange, who didn't look tired, didn't want to sleep just yet, so Mike invited Hange to his yacht to explore more of Kalokairi. They learned more about each other like why Hange was in Kalokairi and how she met his grandma. He also learned about her dreams of visiting other countries and discovering new flora and fauna. In turn, Mike told her about how his parents would visit the island every year for vacation, and his own stories about visiting other countries.

“Just do it.” Hange had told him “You look like a guy who would be free rather than staying indoors.”

Hange’s words had deeply moved Mike, and he started to fall for her.

Hange and Mike took nightly yacht trips for 6 days and spent the night together on the final day before Mike had to go back to Gothenburg

Mike remembers seeing Hange cry before he left. He didn’t want to leave, but his parents needed him back in Sweden.

Mike hugged his grandma one last time (little did he know that she would pass away a few months later) and kissed Hange’s forehead before wishing her farewell.

Mike visited Kalokairi once after his grandma died. He never saw Hange during the trip and didn't ask because everyone was busy grieving.

Mike was sitting in his home in Sweden when he remembered his grandmother’s last words to him.

“Go out and explore the world, Mike. Write about your adventures and share them with everyone.” He also remembered Hange’s words the day they met and decided to become an adventurer/author.

Mike smiled to himself after remembering how he wouldn’t be where he is today without Hange. He only hopes that she has an explanation for the mysterious letter he got a few months ago.

Mike knew Sasha was Hange’s daughter the moment he saw her name. He thought it was sweet of Hange to name her after his late grandmother (he assumed she did). Although he may not be Hange’s husband, Mike wanted to at least meet Sasha.

‘She might have a similar personality to grandma’ Mike thought before he heard the announcement to start boarding.

‘First’ Mike thought as he stood up and grabbed his things to board 'I should thank Hange for everything’

Author Notes 2:

I decided to not use the music from Mamma Mia in case of copyright, and I'm not a fan of throwing in lyrics throughout a fic.

There are some characters that have not appeared in Season 4 anime, but will appear later on. There are no plot spoilers.

Niccolo does not have a surname, so I used the surname of the Italian chef Massimo Bottura (yes, I made Niccolo Italian)

For the sake of the fic (and me trying to be somewhat accurate to real life), I mention the island Skiathos which is the closest to Skopelos (the island the movie was filmed at) geographically. It's the fastest way to reach the island by ferry

The characters are probably OOC. Sorry about that

I decided on making Erwin as an American (because of Chris Evans lol), Levi as a German, and Mike Swedish. I chose their ethnicities based on looks and name origin.

I based Hange’s scent on her perfume. Apparently that exists and I didn’t know. It is canon Nanaba has a fruity smell, and I gave Rico the woody oriental smell because I don’t think fruity or floral would work for her.

Fun fact: Sasha is a nickname for Alexandra!

I based the wedding invite on a random one I found on Google. It does come with an RSVP card, but I didn’t mention it in the fic. The formatting might look weird because idk how to set text in the middle here

I hc that Hange was at a check up in another island when Mike came back

#levihan #levi x hange #levihan fanfiction #nicosasha #erwin x hange #mike x hange #well i tried #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aruani #hitch x marlow #mikenana #marco x mina #pokkopikku

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iturbide · 4 years ago

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AU Masterlist

For ease of reference, all AUs will be linked to their respective tag on the blog; for fics marked as ‘In Progress’ or ‘Complete,’ status will link to AO3 if the work has an entry there; for fics marked as ‘One-Shot,’ status will link to either AO3 or Tumblr; for fics marked as ‘In Development,’ status will link to a Tumblr summary or outline of the complete work; all ‘In Planning’ works will be left unlinked.

Fire Emblem: Awakening

The Future Built Upon the Past (In Progress) - My Awakening magnum opus; a look at the events of the doomed timeline and how it led to the course of events that eventually sent Lucina back in time to alter the course of fate.

Affectionately Yours (Complete) - Accepting Plegia’s invitation to visit in his sister’s stead, Chrom rapidly comes to realize that everything he thought he knew about the halidom’s neighbor is at best a wild exaggeration thanks to the guidance of Plegia’s sovereign, Robin.

Cursed Fate (Complete) - A Shadow of the Colossus AU; following Robin’s death, Chrom takes his body back to Plegia for burial; when a disembodied whisper confirms that there may be a chance to restore Robin’s life, Chrom goes on a quest through the Grimleal nation to bring together Grima’s remains.

Crown of Shadows (Complete) / The Shrouded Throne (Complete) - A split-path narrative where, to stop the civil war raging in Plegia, Robin comes to Ylisse to beg aid from Exalt Emmeryn. After getting drafted by accident into the Shepherds, the Plegian and the Ylissean prince become fast friends – and very soon, something more.

Accursed Divine (In Progress) - Robin is trapped in a curse that transforms her by day into a fell beast. Once the curse is broken, the ensuing political drama follows Robin and Chrom uniting their countries after Robin’s ascension to the Plegian throne.

Sigh No More (In Progress) - An arranged marriage AU where following a crushing defeat at Plegian hands, Chrom’s father is forced to wed his son to Robin, who due to Validar’s ritual in her early life now bears more than just Grima’s mark as a sign of her fellblood; despite a rocky beginning, the two become friends and even find love in the union that had only ever been part of politics and power.

Beyond Twilight’s Veil (In Planning) - When Risen begin appearing in Ylisse, Chrom ventures into Plegia on Emmeryn’s behalf to try to find a joint solution, meeting and readily befriending Robin along the way. When things go wrong, leaving Robin half-transformed and Validar dead, the Shepherds are forced to flee Gangrel’s pursuit; two years later, Robin claims the Plegian throne and reaches out to Ylisse in an attempt to rebuild lost friendships.

War Crimes (In Planning) - A collab with anankos; the Exalt of Ylisse becomes a willing host to Naga’s power in a bid to wipe Plegia off the map, but the Fell Dragon’s return puts the war in a deadlock. Chrom is kidnapped and brought to Plegia in a desperate bid to open diplomatic channels, but when that fails he ends up as as a guest and becomes unlikely friends with Robin, the son of a Plegian tactician (who has more than a few secrets).

Manwearer (In Planning) - After becoming separated from his mother, Robin is raised by the taguel of Panne’s warren. On hearing about a threat to the Exalt’s life, the warren mobilizes to her aid, and Robin and Panne ally with the Shepherds to uncover the deeper mystery behind the attack.

Assassin’s Creed: Awakening (In Planning) - An Assassin’s Creed AU; when Emmeryn is kidnapped and slated to become a Grimleal sacrifice, Chrom and the Shepherds rush to save her – only her rescue comes at Plegian hands, instead. Defying his crusading father, Chrom chooses to stand by Robin and ends up embroiled in a millennia-old conflict between secret forces.

Smoke and Mirrors (In Planning) - A Pokemon crossover AU; Robin and her Zoroark Reflet (who prefers a human guise that passes for her brother) join with Chrom, a Pokemon Ranger branching out into competitive training; and his sister Lissa, an aspiring pokemon medic. This brings them into conflict with the Grimleal who are hunting for the Legendary Pokemon Giratina – a pokemon that Robin and Reflet have a very curious connection to.

Sibling AU (In Planning) - Grima is Robin’s older brother and unwilling puppet ruler of Plegia; when Emmeryn invites the recently-crowned king to Ylisse for diplomatic discussions, Grima sneaks his younger brother along to show him the world he’s never had a chance to see, and both unexpectedly find new friends in what they long believed were enemy lands.

Cardcaptor Lissa (In Planning) - A Cardcaptor Sakura crossover AU where Lissa accidentally unseals the Book of Naga and releases magical cards into the world; with the help of a tiny dragon named Tiki, she has to recapture them all before Grima reawakens to usher in the end of days.

Promare AU (In Planning) - A Promare AU; after Chrom thwarts a group of Grimleal dark mages from kidnapping an Ylissean family, his world is turned upside down by a series of shocking revelations, and he chooses to side with Robin to save the Ylissean Grimleal imprisoned by his father’s orders.

As You Are (In Planning) - Robin comes to Ylisse on a diplomatic mission, hoping to warn the Exalt of a potential threat; when an attack leaves the Plegian blind, Chrom confesses his feelings – only to be rebuffed as Robin believes that the feelings are born of guilt, leaving Chrom to grapple with what he fears are unrequited feelings.

Pride and Joy (In Planning) - Raised in Plegia under Mustafa’s care, Robin is drafted into Validar’s assassination attempt on Emmeryn – but decides that the orders should not be fulfilled and defects, saving the Exalt’s life. In the trials to follow, Robin tries to keep the Ylisseans safe from Gangrel’s forces without exposing her own wavering loyalties.

Prisoner of War (In Planning) - The Exalt’s war has left Plegia in ruins, its citizens scattered and the remnants of the army using guerrilla tactics to oppose the crusade. When his father calls him to the front, Chrom is captured by the Plegian resistance, and rapidly discovers that everything he thought he knew about Plegia (and the Heart of Grima who took him captive) is wrong.

Speaker for the Dead (In Planning) - Raised under Validar’s cruel abuse, Robin exists as little more than a hollow shell, surviving each day on the battlefield. When Chrom reaches out to him and offers a glimpse of something better than the threat of death, Robin cautiously accepts and gradually begins to recover from the traumas of Validar’s upbringing.

Design Defect (One-Shot) - A modern AU where Robin is the son of the head of the Grimleal mafia who enters Ylisstol University and meets Chrom, son of Exalt Corp’s CEO and the heir to the family company. While Robin might have some ulterior motives for getting close to Chrom at first, he quickly gets in over his head.

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Kintsugi (In Planning) - A Golden Deer-based golden route, where Claude decides from the moment he reunites with Byleth that they’re going to save as many lives as possible.

Pre-Timeskip Fix-It (In Planning) - A Black Eagles-based fix-it AU where Byleth gets to shut down Edelgard’s alarming rhetoric every time she opens her mouth, and the Imperial princess stumbles her way through the process of becoming a better person.

Spite Project (In Planning) - A canon-divergent AU where the question of “what would have happened if Edelgard had hired Miklan to kill Claude and Dimitri at the start of the year?” leads to Claude and Dimitri saving each other in more ways than one.

Bad End AU (In Development) - A Crimson Flower AU exploring the logical consequences and fall-out associated with Edelgard’s conquest of Fodlan, her deceptions regarding the Agarthan menace, and her choice to kill Claude at Derdriu.

Proof of Life (One-Shot) - After establishing an uneasy alliance at Gronder, the joint Kingdom and Alliance forces proceed north to free Faerghus from Imperial control. On the way, Dimitri and Claude are ambushed by an Imperial assassin, leaving Claude seriously injured; on the way to safety, though, Dimitri is shaken by the Alliance leader’s words, and begins to question his purpose and his ultimate goals.

Fire Emblem: Heroes

Hard Reset (In Planning) - A bad-end Heroes AU where Muspell invades Askr and wipes out the Order of Heroes – but before Surtr can kill Kiran, they fire Breidablik, which somehow transports them to another Zenith. Taken in by the Emblians, Kiran sets about trying to prevent the ruin that befell the world they were first summoned to.

Controlled Chaos (One-Shot) - In the midst of battle against Muspell, Kiran is taken prisoner by Laegjarn and whisked away from the field; when the leaders of the Order elect to wait, the Heroes take matters into their own hands -- led by the last Hero anyone would have expected.

To The Last (One-Shot) - Though peace has finally established between Askr and Embla, Kiran is unexpectedly struck down by an old illness from their life before they were summoned; the Heroes band together in hopes of finding a cure...but in the end, it all comes down to a prayer.

Promare

Life Goes On (In Planning) - My Promare magnum opus and a direct sequel to Send the Scourge, Send the Swarm exploring the Parnassus aftermath, the Promeopolis Burnish and their recovery and reintroduction to society, and the gradual evolution of the city through the combined influence of the wider Federation and the growing Burnish activism movement.

The Enemy of My Enemy (In Planning) - A canon-divergent AU where Lio and the Mad Burnish managed to save those captured by Freeze Force before they were taken to the Lake Friege detention center; after awkwardly helping the Mad Burnish slip through Kray’s trap, Galo inadvertently becomes entangled with the affairs of the terrorist organization.

Pokemon

Project: Elements (In Planning) - My Pokemon magnum opus following a scientist in Team Rocket who discovers that her genetic theory has been put into practice without her knowledge or consent; taking charge of the project herself, she finds herself warring with the ethics and morality of her work when young lives hang in the balance.

Pokekids (In Planning) - Based on an FYCD prompt meshed with an original story in development; the story revolves around an original region and original characters setting out on their journey, the challenges they meet along the way, and the friends they make in the process.

InuYasha

The Rising Wind (Complete) - An AU fic based on loveyou-x3000′s Wind Prompt, exploring the aftermath of Kagura’s death, her revival in a borrowed human form, her developing bond with Sesshomaru, and their eventual family.

Maelstrom (In Planning) - A canon-divergent AU where Sesshomaru diverts Kagura after she betrays Naraku, preventing her death at his hands; as she becomes ingrained within the group, though, Naraku sees an opportunity to make use of her even when she is not within his direct control.

Ace Attorney

Crime of Passion (In Development) - My Ace Attorney magum opus; Miles Edgeworth is once again accused of murder and taken in by police, but this time Phoenix Wright won’t be able to take his case -- because the victim of the crime is none other than the defense attorney. It’s up to Maya to defend the prosecutor this time, while Miles is forced to confront the hard truths about his relationship with the missing lawyer.

#au masterlist #these are the big ones basically #and honorable mention to some of the things i don't usually broadcast

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imaginesbymk · 4 years ago

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PINK + WHITE.

— chapter ten ; stained glass window.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing + smoking

[ chapter index ]

A/N: I am sooooo sorry for the long hiatus! </3

This story is getting more views on Wattpad than here on Tumblr. I still love the show and Luca's my favourite villain, but as much as I want to discontinue this story, I want to get it out of the way because I have drafted a timeline of this story, including Teresa's and Luca's closure on their relationship. So I'm stuck in the middle on what to do???

BTW, I've come up with a headcanon for Luca's full name as Luca LaPaglia Changretta! His middle name is never revealed in the show, I just did this for the fic.

RIP Helen McCrory. You were one of my favourite stars of the show. Fly high <3. The Peaky fandom will miss you so much.

///

TERESA wasn't as religious as the next person, but she kept her respect as her heels echoed down the aisle, immediately spotting the tall man kneeling on one of the pues. His hands were folded in prayer, and he murmured what the Welsh could make out to be Italian tongue.

"Do you want to be alone?" she asks.

Luca pauses, his eyes still shut and hands still in folds. "No. I want you here."

Teresa slides over and sits next to her lover, staring at the giant crucifix behind the front podium. "How often do you pray, amore?"

Luca pauses his prayer again. "Almost every day. God and I keep in touch, y'know."

"What does he say to you?"

"He tells me to tell you to quit interrupting until I'm done talking to Him." Teresa chuckles, prompting her to let him finish. As it took another good minute for Luca to conclude his prayer, Teresa gazed at the stained glass windows on each side, casting a good light from the clouds that allowed a bit of sun for England, some of it casted its light onto Luca, like an angel on an opera stage.

Luca makes a sign of the cross, sitting back on the pue and grunting a bit from kneeling for a while. "How was lunch with Mamma?"

Teresa nodded. "It was lovely."

"Just lovely?"

"Mhm." She holds his hand. "She says your middle name is LaPaglia."

Luca hums, kissing her hand that curled with his. "C'mon, I wanna take you out with me for wine."

"Hmm... Luca LaPaglia Changretta," She said out loud, admiring the beauty of his full name slipping from her lips. "And I had wine with your mother."

"I meant wine shopping. I'm doing most of the taste tests, it's my cousin's birthday soon."

"Then shouldn't he be the one shopping for wine?" she asks.

The Italian pulls the heavy door, escorting Teresa out of the church and into the chauffeur. "He counts on me, I'm better at choosing wine and gin these days."

"ARTHUR, quit pacing. You'll burn your legs out."

"Where the fuck is she?" Arthur grunts. "Eh? Tom, you're really in it for this one. The fuckin' Welsh is not gonna live up to a fuckin' promise."

"You stop that, she's on her way," Tommy takes a sip of his drink.

A split-second passes as the maid knocks on the heavy office door. "Mr. Shelby?" the feminine voice calls softly. "Miss Griffith is here to see you."

Tommy gives a smug look to Arthur and Polly. "Yes. Send her in," he says. They waited for the woman to walk in, kind of wishing for Tommy to immediately scold her once she stepped foot into his office, but Tommy wasn't up to waste that much energy.

Arthur was the one to step in and do so, otherwise. "What? Did you stroll around Manchester or something?"

"Sorry," Teresa frowns, her face reading she wasn't holding any joy from her day so far. "I was with Luca."

"We're all ears," Polly walked around Tommy's desk. "What's happened? Did he fuck you until you forgot how to tell time?"

"I'm assuming Finn told you?" she asks.

"That's Finn for you, Teresa," Arthur points out.

Teresa rolls her eyes. No point of getting back at him this time. Rat or not, he would never hold back a word from the family. She remembered seeing him appear at the gallery, and he wasn't going to keep a secret from Tommy.

"I invited him for a meeting at a bar...then he took me to the theatre..." Teresa trails off.

Tommy opens his cigarette pack. "Go on."

"That's all, Mr. Shelby."

"You slept with Luca Changretta, just say it."

Teresa folded her arms. "Actually, yes. But earlier events prove what I'm about to propose; I'm in."

The members of the Peaky Blinders all raised a brow, mostly Tommy's.

"You slept with Luca Changretta, I didn't expect you to actually follow up with that, I don't recall telling you to do so, either."

"I wanted to discuss his plans on taking the Penarth gallery. It's not for his dirty hands to touch."

"You wish to join because your heart was too broken to hold back?" Polly says. "Is that where we're getting at, Teresa?" The Welsh woman stared at her. This was probably the first time they had seen each other after all those years that followed from her resignation. Since the last time they spoke, Polly didn't have anything held against her, and here she is, quite disappointed that Teresa shared her heart with a man like Luca. She did quite enjoy her company and her contribution to the Peaky Blinders, even when she chose to depart from Tommy and their relationship, then came Grace Burgess. Polly just didn't want to deal with another afterwards unless it was Lizzie.

"You're doing this just to get even? Luca could care less about your feelings now."

"Teresa," Tommy sighs, nodding at his old friend. "Come back here tomorrow."

Teresa nodded and made her exit out the foot of her door.

"And come on time, please." Teresa wished she could slam the door on him, but Arthur shut it as soon as Teresa's foot took a centimeter away. She presses her ear against the wood to hear them muffling.

"Tom?" She hears Arthur speak. "We can't trust her."

Tommy clears his throat, setting down a scrap of an article he read on his desk. "She'll go back to Penarth, but we can't let her stay there. I know what's going to happen."

"What do you know?"

"Italian men will show up to the gallery."

"It's certain Teresa Griffith keeps a firearm in her drawers," Polly says.

"No," Tommy shook his head. "Not enough to take down at least five men. Luca keeps count of who he orders - who he sends. We're more careful of that, we know of that."

"We're not morons, Tommy. Now we hear from Finn that Luca and Teresa were together?"

"Teresa should give us what we need to know from Luca Changretta. She knows too much about him."

"And Luca knows too much about us," Polly slowly walks over to Tommy. "If Teresa forms an alliance, what will she do? She's already slept with him, but I doubt she got anything out of it. She's not here for the sake of helping. She wants in because she's a woman with a broken heart."

Teresa detaches herself from the door, having heard enough. One of the maids returns, noticing the guest hadn't left yet and was suspiciously eavesdropping their boss. Teresa was pulled back by the shoulder like a child, escorting her out of the foyer.

SEVERAL HOURS EARLIER, Teresa woke from the blinding sun. The silky bed sheets that covered hers and Luca's nude bodies were unmade - ruffled around. If you left the curtains open, you're more alerted. Luca never intended on waking Teresa up that way. In fact, he wasn't even lying next to her in the bed.

Luca's white dress shirt casted more brightness but his trousers were half done. He stared outside, holding his China cup of tea in one hand before looking back down at the papers sprawled across his desk.

Teresa sat up to clip on her brassiere, her accent thinned to greet in basic Italian. "Buongiorno."

He didn't respond.

She slides out of bed and approaches the desk. "Do you need me to leave soon? Though, you don't look like you're in a rush for an important meeting."

Still nothing.

"What, Luca?" This wasn't new for Luca to strangely switch up his mood. He wasn't an easy man, it's hard to impress him or to even study his emotions at times. Teresa had the feeling that Luca didn't enjoy what they had done. "Was this a mistake?"

"This was unprofessional." Luca sets his cup and coaster on his desk. "If you think something will come from this, then think again. I never should have taken you to the theatre. You were trying to let my guard down, were you?"

"No," Teresa shook her head. "I wasn't surprised that this was going to happen."

"Such a mind you carry in that blonde head of yours."

"Seeing you again felt good, Luca. I seized the opportunity to share another moment with you. I was thinking you were going to plan on coming back to Penarth indefinitely."

"Miss Griffith, did it ever occur to you that I wasn't supposed to stay here?" Luca frowns. "I'm no citizen here. America is where my heart belongs, if not America; Sicily."

"You fled to America. That was your last ditch effort to get away from the police," Teresa murmured. She folds her arms. "I understand why you had to do it."

"Then why do you hold it against me?" he asks, exhausted.

"Because I never heard from you ever since."

"I was fairly active in New York, you know?"

"I didn't know."

Luca stared at her. "That's your own problem, Miss Griffith."

"Christ, Luca. Enough with the formalities!" Teresa snaps. "I'm standing at your desk, half nude. We fucked in that bed right there!"

"Which was something we shouldn't have done," Luca began rubbing his temples. "I didn't come back here for you, all right? Porca miseria-" he cuts himself off to heave in a deep sigh. "I have to ask. All this time... you're still hung up on me?"

"Yes," Teresa says, her face paling. "Because I missed you, you bloody bastard. I couldn't reach out to you or your mother, not even the American press, to see how you were doing, or if you were kissing another woman's lips."

Luca slid his hand over to pick up the dress and shawl he placed on the side of the desk. "You need to leave now."

There was no point of convincing him anymore. All was said. Teresa knew not to vex a mafioso unarmed. If she had her handgun with her, she would have tried to pull something in a spite of anger. Would that do her a favour? Probably not. The rest of whoever's left of the Changretta family would go after her without question.

There was Tommy, though, and he's still waiting for her response back in Small Heath.

Grabbing her clothes, Teresa marches back to the bed, gets dressed and leaves the hotel room without saying a word to her former lover. Not even a curse.

#pink+white #luca changretta x oc #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta #luca changretta fanfiction #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders

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violetnotez · 5 years ago

Text

Is the this the longest fic Ive ever written? Yes. Does it suck? Also yes. Will nobody read it because it makes no sense but Im still going to post because I wasted way too much damn on this thing? TRIPLE YES.

Word count: 10.4k words (she thicc)

Genre: Angst and Fluff, sfw

AU: Fantasy AU!, Hanahaki disease

Prompt: “How could your keep this from?”

Warnings: blood

Summary: You are born into a worls where you must marry your best friend, Prince Shoto, in order to unite your kingdoms in harmony. You are happy to marry your childhood friend and love, until he leaves for a quest unannounced, and you are left questioning if you really want to marry him. Once he returns a few weeks before your planned wedding, you begin to not fall in love with him, but one of his comrades- the barbarian, Bakugo.

*this is for the even for @bnhabookclub! Heres the link to the post if your interested!

Again. welcome to the shitshow that is my blog. read at your own risk cause this gets REAL WIERD REAL QUICK

Petals-all you could see were the petals.

Your mouth and throat felt so dry, your forehead damp with sweat as your back convulsed painfully, raspy coughs wracking out of your chest as you forced the petals out of your body.

They were so pale, like creamy vanilla, a stark contrast from the droplets of your blood splattered on the delicate buds.

You quickly reached for your handkerchief, wiping the residue off your dry mouth in fear of it dribbling on to your white dress-your wedding dress. Your hands were shaking, unable to cry any more tears at your misery-you had come to terms many weeks ago that you were going to reach an unhappy end.

Why did it have to be him?

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

You were the princess of your kingdom, destined to marry Prince Shoto of the neighboring kingdom. It was something you two had been accustomed to from birth- in order to connect the two kingdoms and end the quarrels between the two civilizations, you had to marry. It would be a harmonious marriage: Prince Shoto was kind, soft spoken, and a natural born leader. You two had been wonderful friends as siblings, your fathers putting away their troubles in order for you two to get along. They were hoping that by making you friends at a young age, you would learn to grow feelings for each other.

For a time, it worked-you had fallen for Prince Shoto, his soft yet powerful demeanor making you blush each time you remembered him, your young hands writing your name with his last in your journal like a prayer. At 13 you already began to count down the days until you would turn 18, because on that day, you were set to marry your predestined lover- Shoto Todoroki.

For years you had felt so lucky you were blessed with such a sweet boy to be with, being able to live out your lives harmoniously and in peace, something both your parents didn't have the luxury to have. It sometimes left you feeling frustrated- Shoto was truly kind, but very quiet about his thoughts. Your love felt one sided, Shoto seemingly only tolerating you because he had to.

Once he got older, he became more distant towards you, clearly wishing to rebel against his father’s wishes by being distant towards you. It hurt you immensely to see your best friend and crush plainly reject you, but you still held on to the hope that you two could be happy with each other. Yet all that changed when the Prince had left for a quest.

He had been gone for what seemed like an eternity and for a time, you were extremely worried. You could barely focus on your studies, only imagining your poor friend somewhere cold, hungry, and alone. You knew he would be fine, he was a resilient fighter, but yet you couldn't help but allow the worrisome thoughts to collect in your brain. After news that the Prince was in a neighboring kingdom, safely traveling with a young boy, a witch, and a warrior, you felt at ease- with all those comrades, he was sure to be safe. You finally breathed a sigh of relief, able to calm your anxieties after a long time of being unable to.

Information continued to trickle in, sometimes good and sometimes bad, but it always stated that the Prince was spotted safe and sound. You took solace in that information, and for awhile, you began to worry less and less about Shoto, until he was barely a memory.

During that time, you had begun to take on the habit of reading. Before it was a task you simply did when forced or extremely bored, only reading books and stories from your own kingdom.

With so much extra time on your hands waiting upon the Prince to return, you began to learn of other stories, ones that were trully a delight to you: stories of nomads who traveled the country and did rituals to bring them fortunes, women who sold potions by gathering mystical ingredients from the woods, people choosing their own destines and their own paths. It intrigued you- from birth you had one mission for your life: to unite your kingdoms. Once you married Prince Shoto, your destiny would be complete: and then what would you do? You had no other purpose, except being a symbol of that peace for the rest of your life, sitting pretty on a throne until your last breath.

It began to eat at your insides, gnaw at your conscience that you were merely a pawn in your father’s legacy. You could now fully understand why Shoto had been so defiant: he had realized the truth of his life as well.

Slowly, you began to learn to dread instead of anticipate your wedding day. With the Prince being gone, it was sending quite a ruckus in your home, your father more annoyed with each passing day that the Prince had not come back. You, on the other hand, rejoiced. The kings had both agreed at your times of birth that if anything happened to either child before your 18th birthday, the agreement would be cancelled and the marriage no more. They would rely on their children to fix their broken ties.

You had just turned 17, the mental clock beginning to tick in you and your father’s minds, as the Prince still wasn't back form his quest. Just a few more months, and you would both have your wishes: Shoto seemed to have no interest in marrying you, and why should you even for that matter? You two truly didnt love each other- your friendship was a hoax your fathers had created in order to save their own legacies. Your love for each other was man-made and a lie. Just a few more months, and you'd be free of this terrible fate.

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

The day you turned 17 and a half, you were busying yourself on your plush pink bed, reading another novel about free spirited women in a far off land.

“Princess y/n,” your hand maiden opened the door quietly, afraid of disturbing you, “the King would like to speak with you.”

You gave your shy handmaiden a small smile, delicately marking the spot in your book as your feet landed on the cold floor.

“Thank you,” you replied, “Ill be there shortly.”

You entered your father’s study, his feet stomping the room heavily as he paced in deep thought.

The room was grand, a golden chair sitting in front of an old ebony desk, the room surrounded by maps, battle plans, and bookcases full of legends of stories written long before your time. Light flitted through long windows against the wall, looking out to the rural countryside and a matching red carpet run the lengths of the stone floors.

Your entrance seemed to have disturbed your Father’s train of thought, his head instantly looking to see who had interrupted him. Once he saw it was you, he sighed, greeting you with a tight smile.

“You wished to see me Father?’ you asked politely, your fingers tugging nervously at the sleeves of your dress. Your father never called upon you unless it was extremely important- had you done something wrong? You wracked your mind for any actions that would had been unwise for your father to find out, but to your surprise, you couldnt think of a single thing you had done.

“Yes, yes,” your father said hastily, waving his hands toward a small wooden chair at the foot of his desk, “please-sit. We have much to discuss.”

You sat on the hard chair, a chill traveling your back as you watched your father sit in his plush throne, his face clearly tired.

“As we all know, Prince Shoto has been on a quite a long quest for some time,” your father began, his voice deep with annoyance, “and has not come back. And with your 18th birthday fast approaching, and it worries me that the boy wont be back in time for your marriage. I have talked to King Todoroki about my worries, who also had the same fear, and he promised to bring the boy back and end his little shenanigan. But Shoto refuses to leave until his quest is complete.”

Your father took in a deep breath through his nose, his face a mix of anger and agitation.

Your heart beat excitedly- the prince wasnt coming back? The news bounced happily inside you, giving you some hope that you needed- that must have been why he had gone on that quest in the first place! Even though you were excited, you felt a tightness in your chest- you were childhood firend after all. He really didnt like you that much that he felt he had to run away?

“Oh dont look so solemn daughter,” your father comforted, his voice soft with sympathy,” Shotos father allowed the boy to finish his quest in 5 months’ time, and he is forced to return to his kingdom. In the meantime, we can not forget the whole reason for your marriage like young Todoroki has- you must connect the kingdoms in order to bring harmony.``

“Which is why,” your father added, “we must begin to plan the wedding.”

Your head shot up, the feeling of shock flooding your body. It was still going to happen? Your body began to feel heavy, your father's words fuzzy against your ear- you didn't want this, any of this. You felt trapped like a songbird in a cage, unable to scream out what you desperately wanted to say: if he didnt love you, you didnt want any part of this.

Your father seemed to not notice the look of terror on your face, continuing to inform you of his plan. “We already have sent out invitation to relatives and noblemen in other countries, as well as begin to plan out the festivities. It will be a 3 day event, full of food and parties and, of course, the celebration of our kingdoms coming together. The closer to the date, we will begin to need you for fittings of your dresses as well as rehearse your wedding vows and such. I promise I will make this as wonderful as I can, for you are my only daughter.”

The king smiled at you, wrapping your stiff body into a hug. You could barely feel his embrace- the world was numb to your screaming mind. You wished upon everything in you to end this, to make this all go away, but you knew you couldn't- you would be forced to do this whether you wanted to or not.

You simply nodded your head to your father’s parting words, and then ran to your quarters, shutting the door and ceremoniously throwing yourself on your bed in defeat.

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

For days you felt numb and broken, all fight leaving your body. You watched as all your handmaidens and servants ran like chickens around the castle, preparing for the enormous festivities coming in close time. You were a good and proper princes, silently placid and allowing everything around you to happen.

Flower arrangements, samples of sweets, and fabrics for your dresses all came to you, and you agreed to all of them or just randomly choose. You could care less for your “special day”- the only thing you could truly hope for was prince Shoto ignoring his father’s wishes and not coming back.

That, of course, was a wishful fantasy. You were having a blissful dream when your hand maiden barged into your room, clearly too excited to be considerate of your sleeping state.

“Miss y/n! Miss y/n! Oh please wake up! There is most wonderful news!” she cried excitedly, gently pulling the covers off your body, “You must get ready at once!”

“Prince Shoto- he is back from his quest!”

---------

The whole of the kingdom rejoiced at the news, since he had arrived a month before the wedding. He was here, ready to marry and unite the kingdom. That was all that truly mattered.

Your handmaiden dressed you in your most elegant gown, the icy aqua color bringing out the rosiness of your cheeks, as she placed pearly ornaments in your hair. You felt like you were being presented as a gift to the Prince, a reminder of what he was destined to do. You sighed, dreading having to reunite with your once friend and secret love.

Shoto was standing in the ballroom of your castle, very accustomed to it since you both played here occasionally as children. He was used to the golden floors and the crystal chandeliers the sizes of boulders, all hung gracefully in a row on the ebony ceiling. Him and his company were standing shoulder to shoulder, facing the polished staircase cascading towards them.

He looked at his new found friend’s faces, their expressions clearly in shock. Izuku, his face ruddy with dirt and his cheeks aflame from nervousness as he twisted his shirt between his fingers (a nervous tick Shoto had noticed). Uraraka gawked at the room around her in awe, her wide eyes drinking up the scene in front of her. Bakugo was least impressed, his arms crossed in front of his exposed chest and his eyes formed in judgmental slits.

Shoto had told the others before why he had to go back, but only after the quest was over- he wanted to help his new found friends, and after promising to help them in their battle, he would have felt extremely guilty leaving them behind.

Their reactions were mixed when he revealed he had a marriage in a few weeks time- Izuku was clearly shocked yet in awe hed be marrying a princess, while Uraraka seemed to find the situation romantic. Bakugo simply laughed, mocking him from being such a “sissy” for actually getting married in the first place.

Shoto was feeling conflicted inside at the moment- it had been so long since he had last seen you, and when he had, he was less than kind to you. He was quiet, distant, and quite petty about the whole situation of your marriage. You had turned barely 17 when he left, his young body desperate for some adventure and resilient to his father’s wishes. He merely saw you as a nuisance, someone in the way of his freedom. He knew it was unkind and unjustified, you didn't know what was going on inside him, but he was angry nevertheless and desperate to leave. So when he was approached by young boy in need of a friend for his quest, it was hard to resist the offer.

But as nights when on and he had time to be alone with his thoughts, his mind always seemed to travel to you. The way you giggled, your laughs sounding like chimes in the wind, or how your smile always seemed to make his skin tingle with warmth.

You were always a strange girl, but always in the best way, daring Shoto to races even thought your father said it was “unlike a princess to do so” or trying to braid Shoto’s mix-matched hair.

He would never forget the day he had allowed you to do so, your nimble fingers soft against his skin and making him burn up from nervousness. Your touch was so calming and soothing, your small compliments and soft voice sending his soul soaring with pleasure. It was then he realized he had loved you for you, not because he was forced to.

Shoto felt guilty for forgetting those cherished memories in his fits of anger, but he had agreed to help Izuku and he vowed to not give up on that promimse. Months went on, and Shoto couldnt tell how much time had passed: he only hoped you were doing okay without him.

It wasnt until his father had came to collect him that he realized how short he was on time. He had still stuck by his friends, yet the constant reminders of your wedding was in the air, haunting him. They would travel through kingdoms, the whispers of this event following him as the townspeople began to talk. It was a wonder his friends never caught on except him, only to find out weeks before your wedding.

Now Shoto was standing in the ballroom, feeling quite nervous- he hadnt seen you in so long….would you look any different? He was certain your beauty had grown by then, the thought of you looking older and more womanly bringing a blush to his cheeks. How would you see him? He had become quite a different person on his quest, his body becoming more hardened from battles with bandits and the harsh life of travelling. Would you feel the same for him still? Were you just as excited as you were so many years ago to finally be together?

Shoto heard the clicks of shoes on the wooden floor, a man with the straightest back he had ever seen standing proudly at the steps of the stairs.The man took a deep breath, his voice traveling through the room as he announced your arrival to the group of travelers.

Yet Shoto didnt hear a single word he said- he was enraptured by your beauty. You had seemed to turn into a fine young woman since he had last seen you, your curves accentuated by the tightness of your gown, the blue complimenting you perfectly. Your hair flowed in soft ringlets on your back, the pearls in your hair like stars. You were an angel blessed to this planet- an angel he was destined to marry.

The only thing that was worrying him was your expression- he had expected you to seem so much more lively, welcoming the bright smile you would always give him when you saw him. But now, your face was gone of any warmth, looking almost numb to the situation as you looked down at the group.

You traveled down the stairs, hating the way your name sounded in the announcer's voice. This was all so cliche- the Prince comes from a quest, and there is the Princess, simply a prize for his hardwork. A trophy of sorts for doing a good deed. Why did it have to be this why? Why couldnt you feel anything? The world had felt so cold for so long, feeling trapped due to the lack of control you had. Everything had seemed to loose its splendor and color, your vision for weeks turning gray in sadness-

Until you saw him.

The ash blonde boy, his hair unruly and his eyes a bright red like blood. He was clad in strange clothes, like a barbarian, his chest completely open and showcasing his taut muscles. You were intrigued by him- you had only seen likes of him in books and stories you read. He was so different, so menacing, and you wanted to know more. He was the only thing you could focus on, not taking any time to look at the others in the group, including Shoto.

Shoto was the first to reach you, unafraid to approach you like the rest of the group as you reached the bottom of the steps.

“Y/n-” he said, his voice deep and airy, “you look-wonderful.”

You gave him a small smile, but it made his heart sink- you didnt look happy at all. It seemed forced, far from the bright grins you used to send his way all the time.

“As do you, Shoto. You look quite different from when we last saw each other.”

You quickly turned your attention away from him, focusing on his new comrades instead.

“I assume these are the young heroes that accompanied you on your journey?”

“Y-yes!” the young boy with the unruly green hair stuttered, nervously bowing his head. He was quite adorable in a way, his small stature and freckles dusted on his cheeks giving him a child-like quality (even though he was most likely your age). “My name is Izuku Midoriya!”

You gave a reassuring smile to the young boy, trying to make him feel comfortable.

“It is wonderful to meet you Izuku.”

You began to walk towards the girl know, her pointy yet colorful hat signaling that she was a light witch, a sorceress who used your powers for good.

The girl shimmied in her dusty boots, clearly as nervous as the boy. She lifted the corners of her cloth dress, bowing slightly.

“My name is Ochaco Uraraka, your highness,” she smiled sweetly, her cheeks dusted in a pinky glow.

“Ochaco…” you mused over the name, its sound foregin yet light on your tongue, “you are a light witch, I assume?”

“Yes, yes I am!” the girl practically squealed, relief seemingly flooding her face. ‘How did you know?”

You giggled a her amazement at you, completely unaware apparently that she had the most witch-like outfit you had ever seen.

“A lucky guess,” you shrugged your shoulders playfully as you began to walk again, your heart beginning to race as you edged toward the barbarian.

You stopped in front of the man, his stature a head taller than yours. You eyes looked slightly up at him, your cheeks reddening- he was much more handsome up close, his rugged features making you feel breathless. He un-apologetically judged you with his vermilion eyes, looking you up and down with scorn.

Why did you find that so attractive?

“And you are-”

“My name is Bakugo.” he instantly interrupted you, his voice deep and velevty like syrup, “thats all you need to know.”

“Bakugo?” Your brain searched for any name similar to that, but found none- this boy was definitely a foreigner, most likely from far off lands you could only dream of. You had no idea why he followed Shoto back to the kingdom, but you were happy he did- he was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

“A warrior, I assume by your garments,” you nodded, your eyes trailing to his torso “and by the looks of your scars, an experienced one.”

He scoffed at your observations, his eyes rolling in his sockets.

“For a princess, your eyes wander a damn lot. But yeah- Im hella of a good warrior. Best in the kingdoms.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his language, your cheeks red by his comment. He was so unapologetic and rude, yet- it was intoxicating to you.

“I’m glad to here that.”

Shoto was eyeing you sadly the whole time- what was so different between you two? Why did you seem so welcoming to the others but so distant to him? His face began to turn red with fury as he watched you interact with Bakugo, the way Bakugo insulted you so plainly and cockily making him want to yell. He watched as your face had light up for just a moment when you spoke with him, something Shoto didn't get the luxury to experience.

He also noticed what Bakugo had vocalized- you eyes did wander when you looked at him. Shoto at first tried to rationalize that you were simply being curious, since Bakugo was definitely a strange sight for you, but the way your cheeks blushed and you smiled so warmly at him made him think otherwise.

What did you see in that barbarian that you didnt with Shoto?

You looked again at the odd group, taking a deep breath through your lungs.

“I want to congratulate you all for your successful quest,” you began, the lines slightly rehearsed, “and as thanks from my father for bringing back Prince Shoto, he would like to welcome you all for dinner tonight. We would love to hear all about your journey then,” you then snuck one last look at Bakugo, his eyes boaring into yours. It was making you feel a warmth inside that you had thought long ceased.

You instantly looked down at your hands, your cheeks feeling hot. You knew this was wrong- you shouldn't feel smitten for any other boy, especially this warrior, yet you couldnt help it- you were entranced by his resilience and the freedom he had, something you could only dream of.

“If youll excuse me, I have - things to attend to. It was a pleasure to see you all” you gave the group a tight smile, turning your back quickly from the group to follow your handmaiden back to your quarters.

Shoto watched you until you were gone, his heart beating painfully. He wished he could run up to you, grab you by your wrist and ask you what was the matter. It was still him, your friend for all those years, and you were still you, his love and his best friend. Were you beginning to forget, like he did? He felt his stomach drop painfully at the idea- he would ask you, tonight. He would figure out what had happened between you two, and fix it.

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

You were now at dinner, sitting stiffly as you moved your food around your plate, your tight corset making you feel un-hungry. All night you had been detached and quiet, feeling almost sick by your surroundings. Your father was overly outgoing to the guest,giving you side-eyed glances and trying to enter you in the conversation. You would simply smile and nod, occasionally throwing in a comment before returning to squishing your food between your utensils.

The only time you ever seemed interested was when Bakugo would speak. His comments were all snarky and rude, completely self centered about how strong or intelligent he was.

He was constantly proving his worth throughout the dinner, taking over the story of their journey when he saw fit, making sure everyone knew he was the most capable one of the group. It was obscene, his remarks, his language, even his personality, but- you were intrigued by it. The only person he had to listen to was himself. It was so intoxicating to watch him talk, to hear what other remarks would leave his mouth. Whenever he spoke, you stood up a little straighter, taking time to take in any information he gave about himself and immortalize it into your brain.

Shoto had felt awkward the whole meal, not knowing how to gauge your emotions. You seemed so distant, as if a stranger was sitting next to him. He wished he could enter your mind, detangle all the emotions and thoughts that were keeping you from being yourself around him. There was no laughter, no genuine smiles, no happiness came from you. This bothered him- you were usually so cheerful. His nervousness was eating the inside of his stomach, as his mind still couldn't figure out how to approach you after dinner.

“-and the wedding will be a three day celebration, full of festivities,” your father continued boisterously, his voice booming embarrassingly around the room, “Shoto and y/n will be the main attention, of course, over 200 noblemen will see them share vows-”

The sound of your chair pushing away echoed throughout the dining hall, making the whole group look to you. You cleared your throat delicately, a hand resting on your chest.

“Excuse me for my rudeness, but Im feeling- unwell,” you sighed a quick smile.

“Are you alright, do I need to-” the king asked, his eyes full of concern as you shook of his worries.

“Oh no, Im completely fine- just a headache,” you gave a pained smile, “I hope you all enjoy the rest of the meal.”

Shoto watched you walk away, desperate to make sure he knew which way you went in this large castle. He instantly pushed away from the table as well, rising quietly.

“I- uh-am full, thank you for the meal,” he bowed to the King slightly, placing his napkin on his plate as he rushed out, confusing the group that was left.

Izuku and Ochaco looked at each other, their cheeks red with embarrassment and shock as they looked at Bakugo, who was clearly not bothered by the disturbance. Ochaco then looked at the king, who was clearly confused by the whole ordeal, as an awkward air lay heavy on the table.

Ochaco hastily took a large bite from her plate, filling her mouth with food- “MMMMMM!” she exaggerated, trying to start up conversation again, “I LOVE the ham!”

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

Shoto ran around the castle, looking through every corridor and door, searching for you.His head was racing, trying to organize his thoughts in his minds. He needed to figure out how to speak to you- should he act normal, like nothing was wrong? Should he be formal and see how that went? Angry? Upset? He didnt know how to approach you, but he knew he had to do it.

He finally saw your gown turn an empty hallway, his feet picking up pace. He quickly was able to catch up once he could pin point your location, his hand wrapping around your wrist in order to stop you.

You felt slender,cool fingers wrap around your skin, making your body run cold. You instantly jumped by the sudden touch, all breath leaving your body as you turned around quickly.

Your wide eyes met the mix matched orbs of Shoto, a small pang of annoyance filling your body from getting so scared.

“Shoto,” you replied breathlessly, slightly happy though it was only him and not somebody else that had grabbed you.

“I-uh-y/n,” he replied back, his mind going blank.

He let go of your wrists, his hands resting at the side of his body. “I-Im sorry to scare you like that,” he apologized, “I just- wanted to speak to you. If you’ll let me.”

You looked at the boy, his eyes now averting yours, probably from nerves. You decided to listen, turning your body to him.

“Apology accepted,” you said plainly, “What did you want to speak about?”

Shoto drew a blank- what did he want to talk about? He loved hearing your voice, finally only reserved for him, but yet you seemed preoccupied. Distant. Like you were on another world and not truly there with him.

He stared at you lightly, looking extremely conflicted. “I-I wanted to talk to you about what happened while I was gone.”

“You explained quite plainly what happened on your journey,” you replied, clearly not in the mood to talk, “I applaud you for your bravery, it must have been quite a difficult journey-” you gave him a small bow, your eyes gone of any warmth. “I really must go to bed, Im sorry, but i do feel-”

You began to walk away again, Shoto desperate to keep you near him. He walked in font you, blocking your path.

“You didnt here me correctly-” he changed his wording this time, trying to be as specific as possible. “I want to know what happened to you while I was gone.”

You eyebrows turned down in confusion. “What are you trying to say Shoto?”

He swallowed, trying to clear his dry throat as he licked his lips, conflicted.

“You seem-different.”

“Its been a year and a half since I last saw you, Shoto,” you reasoned, “of course Ill be different.”

“Yes, but-” he paused, “youre too different. Youre not the same y/n I knew.”

“Why? Because Im not following you around like a love sick puppy?” Annoyance began to bubble inside, feeling attacked by Shoto’s words. “Because I finally got over the fact you didnt love me ? You dont have to pretend Shoto, I know full well you only see me as a nuisance.”

Shock flooded Shoto’s system as your icy words pierced his skin. What happened to you? Yes, he was rude to you before he left, but he didnt feel like that anymore. That was a simple phase, were you going to define him by that?

“I dont see you as a nuisance, y/n.”

“Really?” you scoffed at his words. “then tell me why your father had to go out to find you twice before you finally decided to come back?”

“I made a promise to my friends. I had to finish my quest before-”

“You had a promise to me, Shoto!” you yelled exasperatedly, your heart bursting with hurt. “To your family! To my family! Our people! What was so much more important than that?”

“I was so worried about you Shoto, terrified for you. Those first few months I couldnt think of anything but you.” You were beginning to reveal a lot, too much, but the emotions, the hurt, the anger, was flooding out of you like a broken dam and you couldn't stop it.

“But then I realized that you didnt care for me. You thought I didn't notice how you gave me the cold shoulder those last few months? How you ignored me, only gave me quick answers, acted as if I was just a pest following you around? I remembered all of it, and then I realized- you left because of me.”

“You left because of me, didn't you, Shoto?” your voice was harsh and crude like metal, stabbing into Shoto’s conscience.

He stayed silent- how could he say anything back? Your words were making him feel small and foolish- he should have known that you would have noticed his change in demeanor, just as he noticed yours.

You smiled painfully at his silence, feeling a fresh cut of pain slash inside you. “I knew it.”

“Y/n, I-” There was so much he wanted to say, things he wanted to take back. He didnt want this meeting to go like this- with you even more distant to him. Out of all the possible outcomes, this had to be the worst one.

“Dont even try to backtrack Shoto, I know the truth now,you just confirmed it.”

He knew he was less than kind to you before he left, but know it wasnt like that anymore. Why were you so angry?

“Fine-yes-I left, and it wasnt right,” he admitted, his voice deep, “but Im back. Why are you putting my old self against me now?”

“Because I couldn't for the year and half you were gone! I-I loved you Shoto, and you-”

“You dont love me anymore?” Shoto looked down at you sadly, his eyes full of sorrow. It felt like his heart was breaking in two, the way those words spilled out your mouth so easily making it sting even more.

You swallowed, filling a pit grow in your chest. Everything felt so cold, so empty. This was your best friend- why couldn't you just be nice to him? You thought you had gotten over all this.

“You dont love me-so why should I love you?” your voice was barely a whisper, cold and empty in the frigid hallway.

Shoto stared down at you, his voice caught in his throat. Did you really believe that? That he didnt love you?You had been friends since children- you really thought all those times, all those days you played together, were all fake? Who even were you?

“I just want you to know,” you spoke, your voice monotone and icy,” Im not doing this for my father, or your father, or even you. Im doing this for my people and thats it.”

“It” meaning the wedding.

Tears began to prickle your lashline, confusion flooding your numb body as you began to walk away from Shoto-

you hadnt cried in what seemed like forever.

Why were you now?

“Y/n, please, can we just talk-” he tried to reason, harsh with desperation.

“No.” your voice was plain in its tone that you were done with the conversation.

“Im just curious Shoto- why did you come back? Because if I had the luxury to have all that freedom, to be free for once- I wouldnt.”

Shoto’s heart felt broken as he watched you walk away, your dress ruffling as you continued on your path. He felt defeated, confused, even angry- what had happened to you since he had been gone? Did you really hate him that much? What did you mean you had no freedom? More questions flooded his mind than what were answered, but he now knew one thing- you didnt want anything to do with him.

As Shoto’s was returning to his corrdiors sadly, you were lost in thought, just feeling- empty. You didnt feel sad, or angry, or even spitefu anymorel. Just- numb to the world. You could walk for miles and miles it seemed and you wouldnt feel a thing.

Why was that? Why were so mean to your long lost firend? You should be hugging him from happiness and relief-not meeting him with coldness and hate.

As you were lost in thought, you didn't even notice yourself running into a person. Your hand instantly reached out, meeting soft yet rough skin. You looked up in confusion ,and your breath hitch- it was the barbairan, his vermilion eyes like rubies as he stared down at you in scorn.

“Oi, watch were your going you damn princess,” he scolded,pushing you off him gently. You stumbled slightly, trying to get your footing right- you had run in to him, you had even touched him. If you were feeling alright, and if the circumstances were different, you could practically squeal. “Youre gonna hurt someone.”

“Did I hurt you?”

He scoffed at your comment. “Like you could ever hurt me,” his voice was deep and velvety, his comment sending shocwaves into your system. The reply was prideful, yet it could have been- sweet. Kind, in a way in a different light- maybe he meant it like that?

“How do you know that?” you blurted out, a small smirk crawling across your lips.

You just wanted him to talk more, to hear that velvety voice directed towards you- but you were close to flirting with him. What were you doing? What was going on with you?

One second you were chewing out your life time friend weeks before your wedding, and now you were being smitten with a random man you didn't even know.

He chuckled slightly, his canines glinting. “Your a fucking handful, arentcha?”

He eyed your wobbling feet, as you still were finding your footing slightly.

“You clearly cant walk right-you feeling fine, because Im not gonna be the one who carries you-”

“No, no , Im fine.” you reassured, your cheeks rosy. ‘Thank you for catching me.”

“Youre the one who ran into me.”

“You could have just pushed me off though, you seem like the type to do that,” you gave him a cheeky grin, it disappearing when you heard a slight growl come form him.

“The hell you mean princess?” he was trying to be menacing, but you could tell there was something behind it- he was curious. You loved how he called you “princess”, making it sound like a pet name than a title.

“Your a lone wolf, are you not? You are strong, independent, free-” you began to list off, your eyes focusing on his, “you follow your own code and beliefs”

“Damn right I do,” he agreed, your heart soaring that he looked so proud of you for describing him so perfectly. “-which is why Im confused as hell that half-and-half prince is allowing himself to get married.”

Ouch.

The small amount of hope that Bakugo seemed to like you had quickly got destroyed, feeling hurt flood your body. You quickly tried to shake it off, so Bakugo couldn't see it on your face.

“What he even want to talk to you about anyway?” The boy shifted in his stance, his muscles moving with his movements.

You gulped, guilt filling your body- Shoto, the one who had just fought with. You couldnt tell this boy what had happened- that was private, and really, it was embarrassing.

“Just-uh-about-” you stammered, your cheeks red as you searched for a lie.

“Ugh, let me guess, you two were trading spit werent you?” he interrupted in disgust, taking your red cheeks as a sign you two were doing something unholy in the hallway.

You swallowed, licking your lips as you gave him a tight lipped smile. You were just going to follow along with Bakugo’s line of reasoning- you didnt have any other better ideas.

“Y-yep, just- please dont tell anyone?”

He gave a bitter laugh, his voice booming against your ears. “You guys cant get dirty? I guess that makes sense, since you all our royalty, cant be having any scandals-”

“Do you promise?” you rushed him, now feeling uncomfortable- if anybody heard you and Shoto were kissing in the hallway, and you two were really arguing-

“Yeah, dont worry princess, youre secrets safe with me.”

You sighed a breath of relief, feeling your heart jump at the smirk the boy sent your way.

“Thank you- I- uh- best be going now,” you stammered, rushing past the warrior, “have a nice night Bakugo.”

You rushed to your room, your heart feeling on fire. Your hands were shaking, your mid racing- all you could think about was that boy. Your world had seemed so dark, until he showed up. His rude responses, his chaotic personality, his snarkiness, that overly prideful speech, his freedom- it was so intoxicating to you. You felt your heart pumping against your chest- you hadn't felt this alive in so long.

You suddenly felt very sick, your head feeling drowsy- maybe you were actually catching something, and thats why you were acting so strange? You were gasping for breath it seemed, your corset making it hard to breath. I felt like something was tightening around your chest, small prods poking into you from the inside- it was a strange sensation, one you did not welcome in the slightest. You stumbled to your bed, holding on to the post as your lungs felt tight with no air, liking something was blocking your passageway. Coughs began to erupt out of you, wracking your body until you finally felt you could breathe. You sucked in a deep breath, welcoming the sweet night air, your chest still feeling tight. You looked down at the ground, trying to slow your stammering heart, until your eyes feel upon something new- a single white petal, resting softly on the ground.

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

After that night, You became obsessed with this boy, learning bits and pieces from him though conversation you had overheard from Shoto’s friends and workers inside the castle. You learned he was from an extremely far off land, past even the Mountains, which surprised you. He lived alone, and apparently had a dragon as well. He had gotten in many fights due to his overly prideful personality, which was why he had so many scars decorating his taut body. Your handmaidens seemed to look at him with annoyance, saying he refused to wear anything “civilized” and would plainly cuss them out if they even set foot in his room to clean.

You knew he had a softer side though- he had kept your “secret” safe, right? You heard nothing around the castle about any make-out session or argument between you and Shoto. That little act made you feel special in someway- maybe he had a soft side for you?

Whenever you would feel yourself getting sucked into the sadness of planning your wedding, you’d think of fantasies with that barbarian boy. Him taking you in the middle of night, taking you far away from this place. His hands placed around your waist, that snarky smile looking down at you again.

Seeing him walk around the castle grew a desperation and love in your body, watching his handsome face stare around the rooms, his voice loud and prideful- you wished he could look your way, acknowledge you again. His vermillion eyes sent fire into your soul whenever you closed his eyes, his face being a beacon of warmth in your life.

Yet that beacon of life was killing you from the inside- every day and every night you fantasized about Bakugo, the sickness taking over you grew worse and worse. The closer you got to your wedding day, the worse it felt, the vines inside you prickling at your soft organs. They were growing, you felt it, as you coughed up more and more petals.

For a few days you had no idea what was going on, fear striking you as you wondered if you should ask to see a doctor. But you decided to do your own research, scourging through books until you found your sickness: Hanahaki. The the mythical disease for unrequited love. It was quite rare, but it came to the most lonely, delusional, and desperate of lovers.

It made sense, really- it all started when you talked to Bakugo, after falling in his arms. It hurt he didnt love you back- but why should he? One run-in shouldn't make people fall in love with each other, but somehow it made you. You welcomed the pain alittle, as it was a reminder you still had some feeling other than emptiness inside you. It also terrfiied you- you were supposed to be in love with Shoto, not some barbarian from a far off land you barely spoke to.

How had this happened, how could you let this happen?

Even if you did tell others you had Hanahaki, they would point the finger at Shoto, calling him cold and callous for not loving you. You were the one who was the cold one, pushing your old friend away. Even if you felt some residue of anger for him, you wouldn't put him through that- he didn't deserve it. You let this disease do its course- if it went away youd be freed, knowing that Bakugo loved you back, and if not- well, you’d figure that out when you got there.

You had barely talked to Shoto or even noticed him since that night, not realizing the amount of worry he felt towards you. Everyday that went by he noticed how sick you looked, your skin paling and you eyes losing any life. Every cough you tried to hold back he noticed and it rang in his ear like a terrible siren- there was something wrong with you.It ate at his insides, his fear of you pushing him away again making him scared to ask what was wrong.

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

It was now the night before you wedding and you were feeling less than hopeful. You were supposed to be lively and happy, as your father had thrown a party to celebrate the events of the next day, yet you had no energy left in you to dance or socialize. You stayed in a dark corner, trying your best to blend in and not be noticed.

The coughs were not leaving, and it felt like your chest was being constricted until you could barely breathe. The annoying tickle of a cough was constantly at the back of your throat, as you tried to keep the petals at bay. You were miserable.

“Princess, are you doing alright, you seem a little- pale? Do you need some water, or maybe fresh air,” the young witch Ochaco approached you, her rosy cheeks and bright eyes looking at you.

“Hello, Ochaco,” you greeted, your smile strained, “you know-fresh air would be nice.”

The sweet girl smiled at you, gingerly taking you by the crook of your elbow and out of the ballroom. The fresh air was rather nice, soothing your hurting brain and your sore lungs. You two walked in silence for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Your mind was shifting around, thinking about Shoto and what would happen tomorrow. It hurt too much, though- you still were both not at speaking terms, and now you had to be promised to each other for eternity. The thought made your throat itch even more, and instead, you switched to own of your many fantasies of Bakugo that brought you some comfort.

“So, how are you feeling? Nervous, excited, scared?” Ochaco asked gingerly

“About what?” you asked, looking at her with curiosity

“Uh,um-your wedding,” she giggled nervously, her cheeks growing red again.

Oh-you cursed yourself for getting to invested in your fantasy, feeling embarrassed for thinking of Bakugo and not about Shoto.

You really didnt know how to answer her question-You felt yourself dreading it-how could you tell her that? But you didnt want to lie to her- lying to her would be practically evil, like giving a child a promise and not fulfilling it.

“Its expected of me to marry him,” you reasoned out carefully, “Ive been thinking of this day since I was a child.”

She gaped out you in awe. “Really?That early? In your kingdoms is it a tradition to marry from each other’s kingdoms?”

You gave her a wihsful smile. “Actually- no, it isnt. We’re the first ones.”

Her brown bob fluttered against her cheeks, her eyes staring up at you in confusion.

“I-if you dont mind me asking,” she asked nervously, “why is that?”

You sighed, giving her a small smile.

“Its kind of a long story….”

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

“Long ago our two kingdoms began to quarrel against one another. But that happened years back- we still continued to fight against each other, and quite frankly, we forgot about why. We just knew we hated each other and wanted to see the other fail. My father had always said to me that my mother wished for her children to be born in a peaceful kingdom, yet my father’s pride prevented that from coming true for her.

“Until the day I was born- my mother, sadly, died while giving birth to me. My father now had no queen, and really, no future ruler, since I am a girl and only men can become ruler in my kingdom. In his grief, he began to feel sympathetic, I suppose- he knew King Todoroki had a young boy who was barely turning 4, and my father got an idea. He travelled to his kingdom, and somehow was able to talk King Todoroki into an agreement.”

“In order to end the suffering of our two kingdoms, Shoto and I would marry once I turn 18, in which would bind our kingdoms forever in peace, with Shoto as ruling over both.”

Ochaco breathed out a large sigh, giving you a conflicted expression.

“So-thats why you two are getting married? Its arranged?”

You looked at her in confusion-“Didnt-Shoto tell you that? I thought Bakugo at least knew-”

“Bakugo?” Ochaco blinked a few times, clearly puzzled. “Bakugo just thought it was quite, well, wierd Shoto was getting married- Bakugo is just a lone wolf who cant understand love I guess-”

You strangely felt angry at her words- how could she even say that about him? Yes, he was cold and callous at times, but how could she know he couldn't at least love? You knew he had to at least have some way of having feelings for another person, you had to at least hope for that-

“-it must be why he left last night,”

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a ton of bricks pound into your chest.

“He-he left?

“Um yeah! Something about being ‘bored waiting around for a stupid’- oh my gosh, y/n are you alright!?”

You were coughing up quite alot, your lungs dry and painful as your heart tore in two. He-he left. Without you. Without even a goodbye.

After all that daydreaming, all that hope, that dedication to him, hoping he would notice you- he left. He never loved you, and you knew it- you were just so desperate for someone to take you, to teach you how to be free.

You wanted him to teach you, to see potential in you that you could be just as defiant to the world as him.

Uraraka wrapped her slender arms around your body, patting your back softly to help you rid your body of whatever had attacked you. It was taking everything in you to not let a single petal fall out, the itching in the back your neck unbearable as your heart beat agonizingly against horribly.

You felt a few silky petals slip out of your mouth, soft against your dry tongue. Miraculously, Uraraka didn't suspect a thing- most likely from the darkness she couldn't see the disease overtaking you.

You gulped desperately for air, finally getting a hold on your lungs.

“I-Im fine,” you panted out, raising from the floor on shaky knees. “Thank you”

Urarka gave you a pointed look, clearly not convinced. “Of course, but are you sure? Do you need water, or maybe I should get Shoto-”

“No!” you yelled out, covering your mouth in case of another attack.

You felt a little guilty for yelling at Uraraka so harshly, her wide eyes looking at you in shock-you just couldnt bear seeing Shoto when you were grieving over a lover that was never yours- and apparently dying from it too.

“No, Im fine, really,” you said more calmly, trying to be reassuring, “lets, just- walk back, if thats okay-”

“Yes of course! Ill walk you to your room, just in case you get sick again-”

You two walked in silence again, you mulling over your broken heart as Uraraka watched you in worry. You two passed the ballroom, everyone seemingly enjoying themselves and not noticing you two as you lead the way to your room.

You stepped up to the door, your hand grasping the doorknob until you paused, a question entering your mind. You were still confused why Uraraka said she didnt know your marriage was arranged-you would have expected Shoto to have told his group after saying he was getting married.

Was he embarrassed by it, that he was marrying you?

“You said you were surprised to here our marriage was arranged,” you asked quietly, “Shoto never told you?”

Uraraka shuffled in her pink boots, her shoulder hunched close to her chin.

“He-uh-no,” she breathed out, “he said he made a promise to marry a girl he loved.”

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

Morning.

Daylight.

Wedding.

You should be feeling happy, excited, optmistic-you had been imagining this day since you were a child. But now, all you could feel was a coldness you couldnt seem to shake off- after your talk with Uraraka last night, you felt so confused.

The person you “loved” had never loved you, leaving you sick and hurt.

The person who did love you, you most likely pushed away to the point where they didnt love you anymore.

You couldnt even understand your emotions yourself. All night your sickness wouldnt leave your poor lungs alone, making you cough uncontrollably all night, the petals piling up around you.

You wouldn't allow anyone to see you in the morning, snatching your wedding dress from your hand maidens and putting in yourself. You fixed yourself up, trying to make yourself look as lively as possible, but it seemed impossible- you felt too empty inside to really put your heart into it.

Another round of coughs attacked your chest, a single petal dribbling out of your mouth, along with a speckle of blood. It dripped on the inner folds of your creamy white dress- easily disguisable if you made sure it was covered- yet it made you begin to cry.

What was going on? Why did you have to do this? Why were you still sick?

Your knees hit the cold floor, wave after wave of tears and coughs struck your body in a terrible symphony, the petals piling up on your dress.

You couldnt take it anymore- this sickness was going to have to take you, because you had no energy left to fight it anymore.

You felt a knocking on your door, the sounds harsh against your temple. You sniffled, one last cough feebily spilling out of your bloodied lips.

“Go away-I promise Ill be out soon-” you began sadly, until you heard the door swing open.

You looked up, your face in shock as you did not lock eyes with your handmaiden, but with Shoto’s.

He looked around the floor, noticing the bloody petals, his face completely torn-he knew what was going on.

Shoto stared down at you, his eyes boaring into yours-he knew something was wrong with you. He had came by your room in hopes of fixing your relationship before speaking your vows, working up the courage until he heard you crying. No matter what was between you two, he wouldnt let you go through pain by yourself.

Now he watching you cough up your life, those sickly petals flowing out of you, each one taking a toll on your body.

He gasped out your name, the words like honey as he sat next to you on the floor. You looked so beautiful in that white gown, like an angel from heaven.

But the paleness of your skin, the bags like bruises under your eyes, the blood on your lips- it all reminded him that you were human, and you were hurting inside. He reached for your hand, his fingers grazing your skin-so cold- but you pulled it away quickly.

“Please, dont Shoto-” you whispered hoarsely, “Im-”

Another wave of coughs wracked at your chest, this time the rasps painful against your chest as the vines squeezed.

Shoto didnt know what to do- how could he help you? There wasn't anything he could do to help, except watch his best friend and love slowly cough her life away. A few petals cascaded out of your mouth, adding to the piles as you heaved air back into your lungs, your knuckles white.

“How, how could you keep this from me?” he asked sadly, ignoring your pleas and pulling you into his lap.

You felt how warm he was, and realized- he did love you. He had been there for you as a child, and he was here for you now, comforting you in your worst moment.

Your heart felt like it was exploding as tears cascading down your face, salty and warm against your skin.

“How-how could I Shoto?” I shuldnt have been so mean to you,” you sobbed, “Im so sorry, so sorry, this is all my fault-”

“Please, no, dont be sorry,” he said softly, his arms cradling your body, “we both have our own faults. I shouldnt have left you for so long, and Im sorry for that, I-” he gulped, his heart beating harshly against his chest.

“I-I do love you,y/n, I do.”

You picked up your head, forcing yourself to look at him- he was so handsome, his mix matched eyes softly looking down at you- he was still the little boy you knew from a child, though, always so calm and sweet.

“I know, Shoto, I just, I-” you gulped, fighting to keep the coughs and sobs at bay.

He sighed, feeling his heart sink.

“You loved Bakugo, didnt you? Thats why,” he motioned to the petals, “this is happening to you.”

You gave him a shocked look, your eyes wide and glassy. You forgot how observant Shoto could be- you felt your cheeks grow red, realizing now he must have known by the way you stared so much at Bakugo.

“Was-it that noticebale?”

“Y/n,” he sighed, his chest feeling heavy, “very.”

You giggled at his remark, feeling strange for laughing for once. But Shoto was so abrupt with his words, it always made you laugh at his remarks.

Shoto’s heart soared at your laugh, the sound like chimes against his ears. It died down, the room quickly feeling closed in again.

“I just dont want to do this. I-I want to be friends again. To figure out who were are, without us being forced to be with each other.” you sighed, your heart rattling against your chest. “ I-I want to be with you and marry you- when we decide. Not my father, or your father- I want to be free to choose.”

You turned to Shoto, your hands touching his cheek.

“I-I did love you-and I still do-Im just so confused, and trapped, and-”

“You just want to be your own person,” he finished your sentence, his voice so much stronger than yours.

He looked down at you, his face surprisingly smiling.

“I think I may have arranged that,”

You jumped up, your face in shock. “H-how? Tell me!” you squealed, not unilke a child, your eyes wide with anticipation.

Shoto grinned at your face, loving how excited you could get so quickly.

“Do you remember my oldest brother?” he asked

“Of course I remember Natsuo! He was always so kind to me as a child,” you reminenscenced, “but how is he going to help us?”

“Well, as it turns out, I spoke to our fathers and my older brother,” he said, a small grin on his face, “they agreed that my brother could rule both kingdoms in my place. By himself, and my sister will accompany him if he ever needs help.”

You sucked in a lung full of air, unable to believe what you had just heard-

“So that means-”

“We are free to do what we want now.”

You yelled in happiness, happy tears cascading on your face as you wrapped his body around yours, “thank yous” spilling out of your lips.

Shoto hugged you back, smiling sadly- he had to admit, it was hard negotiating that new deal. After the night, that remark of how you didnt feel “free” stayed in his brain, haunting him until he found a solution. Knowing it would make you happy made it worth it- even if that meant you could leave him now. He loved you, but if that meant you could be happy with or without him, he would be content with the knowledge that you were finally able to be your own person.

“You can now be yourself,” he said sadly, his eyes staring down at the floor, “and even if that means you do not love me, I accept it. You dont have to feel guilty.”

You looked at the poor boy, his eyes shaded as his bi-colored locks cascaded onto his foreheads. You felt a warmth fill your chest, the sensation soothing and calming as the tightness in your lungs dissappeared. The tickling in your throat seemed to wane slightly. Your hand found his as his eyes instantly rose to meet yours.

“I wont feel guilty,” you smiled gently, “I want to be free- with you.”

Taggings: (if you want to be added, just shoot me an ask or a reply on this post and Ill add you on to my future fics!)

@freckledoriya @orokayagi @leeeah-loooser

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnhabookclub #bnha au #bnha fantasy au #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todorki x reader #mha todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #shoto #mha shoto x reader #mha shoto todoroki #bnha prince shoto x reader #prince shoto x reader #prince shoto x you #prince shoto x y/n

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diavolosthots · 4 years ago

Text

DARK DECEPTION - CHAPTER 4

READ CHAPTER 3 here

Pairing(s): Diavolo x reader, mentions of Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Barbatos

Warnings: none

Author's note: Imma give a fair warning up here that AFTER this chapter, things will get wild and there will be a series of chapters with a fair share of warnings

The cheers from the guests were soon drowned out by loud music and dark, club like vibes. Your dress has long changed from white into dark red and felt skin tight around your body. It was hot. Sexy. Attractive. Inviting. Of course you couldn't get married in hell and expect it to be anything even remotely close to conservative. Your skin itself was accented with gold jewelry, showing off your newly found 'status', and of course, your new ring.

The ring you couldn't help but look at while you danced with your newly wed husband. You hated it. Hated him. Hated how everything seemed so perfect. Hated how you could feel his skin against your newly exposed self. Diavolo had long changed out of his white suit and returned to his most natural state; his demon form. A golden, century old crown was neatly placed upon his head; status. Power. And you suddenly felt so small in his arms. The arms that kept you close; made you unable to move.

But you could feel him, feel his muscular chest against your smaller frame, and his disgustingly hot breath against the shell of your ear, "relax, darling… you're so tense." It wasn't comforting. It wasn't a way to ease your muscles and calm your mind. It was threatening; words to make you behave.

You swallowed thickly and tried to relax yourself, but it was so hard against his dominating form. You could feel his thumb start to caress your lower back and you send another silent prayer to Simeon, any angel really, hoping they'd still swoop in and safe you, but Diavolo must've sensed it because his chest rumbled lowly with a growl, a warning, "(Y/N)...". You decided your best shot was just to bury your head into his shoulder and be quiet, hoping the tears wouldn't fall again.

That, however, turned out to be a mistake. Lucifer was only a few feet from you guys, dancing with some random succubus that you didn't know. The jealousy struck first, but was soon overcome by sadness as your eyes met his.

His heart ached. Every fiber in his being wanted to reach out to you; hold you. Comfort you. Bring you back to him. How could he let this happen? Why did he ever pledge his loyalty to Diavolo? He should've known the Demon Lord would do something, anything, to him sooner or later. Lucifer could feel the anger rise in him, seeing your fragile form against someone much more powerful than you. He wanted to get you out of there, to save you. But the smile on his Lord's face, so corrupt and so evil, looking back at him, turned his gaze stone cold, and with one last look onto your embracing forms, he danced away, wishing it was your hand he was once more holding.

It was a long night. You met people you knew you needed to remember, yet you couldn't keep a singular name in your memories, suddenly thankful that Diavolo took most of the talking upon himself and that you got out of most of it. All these demons were so genuinely happy for you, something that's such a rarity here in the Devildom, but it soon registered inside of you that they weren't happy for you. They would never truly care for you.

They were pretending to be happy for their king. Honestly the guy could shit on the carpet and people would clap for him, but of course you couldn't voice that out loud. You were just here to be a pretty face.

Throughout the night, Diavolo placed soft kisses onto your lips, kisses that you needed to return with just as much love as he was giving you, even when they were mainly planted in front of Lucifer. You didn't know what kind of sick game Diavolo was playing, but he must really get a kick out of his 'friend' trying to hide his heartache and keep his stoic composure. It was just evil. To both you and him.

And you ached to reach out and pull yourself into Lucifer, hoping he'd wrap his wings around you and protect you from all the evil; the evil that is your now Husband. But he didn't. You didn't reach out either. Not when Diavolo's hand gripped so tightly around your waist; threatening… daring you to make a stupid mistake. Thankfully, you never did. As much as you wanted to, your soul was crushed, and you barely had the energy to keep a smile on your face so no one would suspect anything.

Slowly, the party came to an end. The brothers had long left and you couldn't even properly talk to them. Aside from Levi, only Beelzebub exchanged a few words with you, but you could see that it pained him to eat the food, "congrats, (Y/N)..." He mumbled between munches, knowing he could barely swallow what was placed on his tongue. You gently embraced the giant and he returned the gesture tightly. He didn't understand; didn't know what went on behind the scenes, but he missed you. All of them did. But now you were the Queen. Their Queen. And they didn't know how to approach you anymore. You didn't know how to approach you anymore either. It was sad. Draining. Killing. It was hard to feel this way.

You sighed, reliving the feeling of Beelzebub's arms around you while the last guests said goodnight and Barbatos returned to his master's side. "My lord…" you could tell he wanted to say something important, maybe a warning? There was something heavy weighing on his tongue. Whatever it was, he never got the chance to voice it, because Diavolo shushed him with a wave of his hand, "not now Barbatos." And with one last glance at you, the butler nodded, bowing and returning to stand up straight with a smile on his lips, "Goodnight my lord, my lady." Your eyes searched Barbatos' once more before a strong hand turned your body toward the staircase, "come on, my Queen." It sent a shiver down your spine, the way he said it. Almost mocking. And maybe it was, but either way it could've never prepared you for what was about to happen.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me fanfic #obey me lord diavolo #barbatos obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

Text

Between Heaven and Hell

Part of the Worshipers Series

➜ Words: 19.5k

➜ Genres: 85% Angst, 15% Fluff, God!AU, War!AU

➜ Summary: The Great War was started by one mortal. One man that was not blinded by prayer and devotion. A peasant who knew that the gods were cruel. And through his suffering, he had one ambition — to kill a god.

➜ Warnings: Implied smut, depictions of chaos and vague depiction of suicide.

➜ Notes: y’all I haven’t found something I’m so proud of in such a long time. Seldom can I say I’ve written a masterpiece but this is truly the shit. I hope you’ll give this fic a chance.

cr.

[Act I] The gods are cruel. They do not listen to prayer. They do not aid the meek or punish the sinners. They do not counsel the grieving — do not provide salvation — do not have mercy on living souls. Waiting for them will not make them come to you. And trusting blindly is a fool’s game. There is no glory in faith. There won’t be redemption. All that exists is suffering. The universe is vicious. If you do not take for yourself, you will have nothing. Hoseok has long realized this, born as a peasant when innocence and pride was taken from him from the beginning. He knew when his mother’s breast milk dried and found her arms thin as she embraced him, trying to soothe him to sleep on an empty stomach. He knew when he had to get used to sleeping on cold floors and have adults dressed well calling him a rat. He knew when his father died of the plague and his younger brother succumbed to the same sickness. When his older sister sold her body for a few shillings and never returned. When his hands became scabbed over and calloused from working the farm. When he had to hold sickles from dawn to dusk to cut long strands of grain and his entire body ached. Hoseok knew when he was nearly beaten to death when the harvest wasn’t enough for the season— If you do not take for yourself, you will have nothing. No matter how many gods he worships and prays to, they will never answer. No matter how hard he tries to remain devout and pious, nothing will ever be given in return. The only person who can save him is himself. “Good evening, Hoseok. My mother sends her blessings to your mother and wanted to give her some oats.” He is faced with your gentle voice and fatigued smile after answering the door. Your hair is tied back with strands framing your features that are exhausted from the day. Dried sweat is evident on your skin, but is also clear that you have tried to quickly wash yourself in the water basin — he can only hope he does not look as foul as he feels. “Thank you, Y/N. That is very kind of your family. Send your mother my best greetings.” “I will.” You linger outside for a moment. The pair of you stare at each other before you realize how inappropriate it is and break the silence. “Has your mother recovered from her illness yet?” “No. Unfortunately, not.” Hoseok realizes that it would do neither of you well if you are seen dawdling outside of his home, so he widens his door and provides an invitation. “Would you like to come in to see her?” “If it is not of any inconvenience….” “It isn’t,” he assures with a tender smile and you nod, entering his modest abode. It may be scandalous that you, an unmarried girl, is with him at this time of night but everyone on the lord’s farm knew that the two of you had been acquainted since childhood. It is also known by all that someday Hoseok will propose to you and take your hand in marriage — it is the natural progression after all. If he had more to offer, he would’ve already wedded to you. But Hoseok is too ashamed at having nothing, of being able to provide so little. There might never be a day when he will have something to give to you. Though for now, he pushes the thoughts away and is merely thankful he had already lit a fire in the common room, afraid it would have been too cold for you to bear. “She is asleep,” you whisper as you peek into the only other room in his home, noticing the rise and fall of the thin blanket and hearing the dry wheezes. You shut the door quietly. “I should let her rest.” “I will let her know you came by.” “Yes, please do.” Hoseok hesitates and the pair of you stare at each other once more. It’s intimate, the glow of the fire illuminated on your profiles. But right when you’re about to break the silence by bidding farewell, he speaks up, “Will you join me for supper, Y/N? I would like to have your company since I have no one else to eat with.” “I would love to.” You share soft smiles and move to get supper prepared. It’s a meager meal that ends up getting put on the round table, a quarter loaf of bread and one bowl of porridge made from the oats that you brought along. There’s not a lot to eat when the land has been dried and the harvest has been small. Hoseok sits across from you on a stool, but he’s unable to start when you pray for your meal, hands pressed together as you murmur underneath your breath. He stays quiet, never uttering a word and never joining you in it. When you finish, he’s about to eat, but you stop him with one hand on his arm, eyes earnestly looking back into his. “We should set some bread aside for the Goddess Irene.” A muscle in Hoseok’s cheek twitches. His hands clench. He spoons the food into his mouth, not looking at you once. “You will do no such thing. You will eat it.” “But she is the Goddess of Healing and Medicine.” Your brows furrow, eyes searching his expression. “This is the least we can do for your mother.” “The least we can do is bring her to a healer. That is the least.” Hoseok’s fist pounds against the table. You flinch, startled, and he sighs, softening his voice. “You will eat it to work when dawn arrives or if you don’t want to, then feed the pigs with it. At least then it will fatten the animal up for slaughter.” “Hoseok….” “It is better than letting it rot away.” It goes silent. He didn’t mean for it to become this tense, but he has no intentions of allowing food to go to waste or for delusion and hope to hinder reality. He will eat every bite of what’s left on the table if you won’t, for the sake of working the fields for tomorrow, and the day that follows, and the day that follows that. If you do not take for yourself, you will have nothing. “How much do you need to take her to a healer?” Hoseok lifts his head and finds you asking solemnly. Immediately, he shakes his head. “No, you don’t need to concern yourself with it. I will do it. You barely have enough to pay your taxes and for your younger brothers.” “Perhaps there is something I can do to help. I want to help. I have extra shillings saved from the last fruitful harvest.” Despite his objections, you insist. “Your mother has always welcomed me with open arms, this is what I want to do for her. You must accept my help, Hoseok.” Hoseok’s pride was taken from him long ago, so he accepts your offer with a downcast head, having no other choice. It is shameful to be indebted to the one he was supposed to provide for in the future and he is embarrassed even more so when you reassure him that it’s fine. Clearly, things are not fine. Though someday, perhaps it will be. With your help and his hard work, in seven months time, he may be able to bring his mother to a healer. And once his mother is no longer bedridden, she may be able to spin and weave, and complete housework for the lord of the land. With the extra that they earn, Hoseok may finally be able to take your hand in marriage and be able to provide like the man that he is, like how he’s always wanted to. But the events that he envisions while working from sunrise to sunset — the ones he considers when he needs strength to cut the next bundle of grain — they never come to fruition. Not when the weather becomes colder. Not when the harvest is poor. Not when the tax raises and the meager wealth he has saved up for his entire lifetime is taken from him and given to the comfortable lord. Not when his mother’s sickness worsens. Not when the gods are cruel. Hoseok stands beside you during his mother’s burial. It’s a chilling morning, one where the skies are gray, one where he turns deaf to the priest’s words. He does not cry and does little to acknowledge those who give condolences. His fist is merely tightened as he remains in his silence, feeling how you tremble in sobs next to him. But Hoseok is not as sorrowful or in grief as he is angry. Wrath flows through him like blood in his veins. He is enraged at his fate, furious at what has become of this pathetic life when he’s done nothing worthy of punishment. Hoseok has always been resentful. But finding his mother freezing and purple-lipped when shaking her awake for supper that night — hearing her beg for mercy and crying out not to die — only to succumb to death minutes later as he embraced her by the fire for some warmth as she had done when he was a baby... It has pushed him to the edge of hatred. “Hoseok…” you call after him to no avail. He doesn’t want to cry, does not want to question why the gods have done this to him. Hoseok wants to scream. He wants retribution. But before he can set himself on the path of no return, you find him the next night by a timid knock on his door. His home is emptier than it ever has been — a family of five brought down to one, taken from him through sickness, starvation and the greed of others. And it is empty with him selling all his belongings away, left with nothing but a sack of food and some clothing. And you take notice from the moment you enter his abode. “Where are you going?” Your voice is distressed, shrill and full of worry. Hoseok stares at the way the flames flicker in the common room and he pokes the fire haphazardly, sat upon the stool with the orange glow casted on his face. He is quiet when he speaks above the sputter and crackle of the blaze— “I am going to kill a god.” “What?!” Your grasp is loud and then your voice drops into a sharp murmur as if they could hear you. “Have you gone mad, Hoseok? Don’t speak of such nonsense ever again. I don’t want to hear it!” But Hoseok ignores your wishes, handing you what he has left — his honesty. “I have a plan. One I’ve thought about for some time. It will work.” You shake your head, stumbling back from him. “You will get yourself killed, brought into damnation. The gods are to be feared and respected, Hoseok. Are you not afraid of their wrath?” “What more could I be afraid of?” His voice raises in volume. “I have lost everything! I have nothing more to lose.” “You have me.” “Then join me.” “You’re asking me to come with you?” There is a pregnant silence, one where he continues to prod the fire, no longer fearing its sparks as he had when he was still a child. “I plan to forge a sword that can kill gods and I will reach Heaven to do so. I have already sold my donkey. Every last bit of what was supposed to be for my mother, I have it.” “You are asking me to leave my brothers,” you cry out. “To leave my family.” “Then stay with them.” The man meets your gaze. “But there is nothing here for either of us, Y/N. You know that. So come with me in search of something worthwhile. I will protect you.” “You are mad.” Maybe he is, but he no longer cares to stay here and to be orderly, to wed and have a family and watch his children starve before succumbing to illnesses. He will no longer accept such a life for himself. “I leave at sunrise.” You speak no words to him, merely turning around and leaving his home. Hoseok watches your backside as you do so, wishing in his heart that he had seen and savoured your smile one final time. If there is one fear within him, it is that he will never return to you, that he will leave you here by your lonesome. But as he slips away from his home before the blush of dawn, before anyone can catch him running away from his duties and sorely punish him for his escape, he sees a silhouette ahead of the road. When Hoseok approaches, the figure turns around and he’s met with your indignant expression. “I’ve been waiting for you for the past hour,” you say with an extended exhale. For the first time in a long while, the corner of his mouth quirks. A smile finds itself on Hoseok’s features, especially when he finds your own sack of belongings slung over your shoulder and that you’re dressed for travel. And together, the two of you venture from the desolate lands that have shackled you down. // The horizon is wide, the world limitless. He sees it now as the two of you climb the hilltops and the valleys with nothing but a few things in your possessions, watching the sun peek from the sky and spill over in orange hues. There is more suffering than he has ever known before, tired faces and hungry children that he comes across, despair that he is familiar with. But with so many ways to go, you ask him where exactly you’re headed. “We need a weapon, one that could actually do them harm.” Hoseok pokes the fire that he’s made on the edge of a forest where you’ve set up camp for the night. There was some bread you had left and he had caught a rabbit with a trap his dad once taught him how to make, one that was currently roasting. “There’s a blacksmith two towns over I heard about. Kings and queens have even commissioned him before. I will spend the rest that I have on it.” “But you think his weapons could harm a divine being?” “The gods are not immortal,” he mutters. “They must have weaknesses like we do.” It goes silent as he listens to the crackle of the fire and the rustling of the tree’s leaves as the warm breeze brushes through your hair. It is serene. He can hear the crickets and turns his head upwards to see the cavern of twinkling stars looking over the universe, like tiny pinpricks of light. The flames cast a golden glow on your face like the many nights ago spent in his abode when he asked you to come with him. You break the quiet with a question, “What are you hoping to achieve by killing a god, Hoseok?” “Retribution. If they choose to ignore us, I will make them hear.” His eyes lift to look at you huddled by the fire for warmth, your face tired and dirtied from travel. He wonders if your feet ache like his does. “Do you want to go back?” You shake your head. “I want to come with you.” “We’re almost there,” he assures to ease you further. “One more day of travel and we’ll make it there.” “Okay.” The corner of your lips lift and your eyes soften. “I trust you.” Hoseok gazes at you and then his arm lifts. “You can come sit beside me. It’ll be warmer with two people next to each other. If you want.” He can see your hesitation, the longing in your eyes but the uncertainty that holds your actions back. But there is no one out here in the wilderness to look upon you both and judge, no gossip that can be handed around the town or glances of disapproval. So when you come over and tuck yourself right by his side, and his arm drapes across your shoulders, pulling you closer as the pair of you warm up, a smile graces his features. You might not be aware but you are Hoseok’s strength. Without you, he would’ve given up long ago. // As he promises, there’s one more day of trekking through dirt paths and winding roads, a night spent under the stars and around campfires and food caught in the forest. Then by afternoon of the next day, you’ve entered the town and found yourselves a rather modest blacksmith shop. It’s dusty and old, the walls ancient and filthy. But Hoseok won’t be fooled by appearances alone. He knows this is the shop that he’s been searching for, the first stop to his destination. An apprentice is heating metal in the fire before hammering it against the anvil, the noise ricocheting through the street. A taller and broader man with a gray beard stands by to watch closely over his shoulder, and Hoseok approaches him without a second to waste. “Excuse me, sir.” He steps away from the working apprentice, arms crossed as he regards Hoseok. “Do you need something from me, boy?” “I am looking to buy the strongest sword you have.” “What for?” The burly man glances up and down at him. It’s clear that Hoseok isn’t a knight nor a guard, not by his thin stature and tired features evident of having been famished as a child. “For hunting?” Hoseok can feel you glance at him in worry, but he had already prepared and the lies roll off his tongue with ease. “We are looking to slay a beast by the East shore. An ogre.” The Blacksmith scoffs, eyeing him carefully. “You? Well, good luck with that. My commissions are full. I’m sorry, but you must look elsewhere.” He stops him before he can walk away. “You are the best blacksmith, aren’t you? I am willing to pay whatever price you need. Please. You are our only hope.” “If I am your only hope, then you are doomed,” he mutters, but turns around and concedes. The old man allows the both of you to enter his shop. “For an ogre, you’ll need something substantial. Perhaps a longsword.” Suddenly, Hoseok is handed a sword that was laying on a workbench. It’s heavy, his wrist pulling downwards and the tip clanks against the floor. The blacksmith shakes his head and inhales sharply. He takes it away. “Or maybe not. A shortsword might be better, yes. But what matters more is what it is made of. We have titanium, but it’s too light. It won’t be as effective for parrying or attacking because it has less weight. Steel is what we would usually use…” “What is your strongest material?” Hoseok asks before he can be handed another sword. “I would like you to make me one of that.” It goes silent. The Blacksmith whirls his head over to look at him. “It is far too costly.” “What is it?” “Thunderstone.” The two of you are shown to the back where the man lifts a cloth, revealing a large slab of silver rock that catches the light and turns to a shade of obsidian. “They say the Heavens once struck down on the world and this is what happened. It was cultivated from foreign lands, said to only have a few in the world like this. Took a year to come here. I was planning to save it for when the King would call me to replace his weaponry, but I am willing to sacrifice it for you...at a price.” “How much do you want it for?” His eyes return onto the blacksmith’s. “Fifty shillings.” Immediately, you grab his arm, brows furrowing. “Hoseok.” “Thirty,” Hoseok bargains, causing the man to scoff abruptly. “Did you not hear what I said? This is valuable materials, boy. You would not come across it for another thousand years!” “If I do not kill the ogre, it will come here to ruin the entire town and destroy your livelihood.” “I have never even heard of such an ogre.” “Well it exists,” Hoseok bluffs impressively. “You will have no way to spend your wealth even if you had it. Think of it as financing me to eliminate this threat for you.” “You are naive, boy. If you do not kill it, someone else will,” the man declares. “But because I admire your bravery and pity you. Forty.” “Thirty five.” “Thirty eight.” “Deal.” Hoseok smiles. “I will pay you when I come to pick up the sword.” The man’s brow quirks as does the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think so. I am not as foolish as to make just to be stolen from. You will pay before I begin my work.” “Then how do I know you won’t just run off with my wealth?” “Because my word is my bond and I can’t just pick everything up and run away with it.” The bearded blacksmith opens his arms as if to show his entire shop. At this point, his wide-eyed apprentice was looking up from his place, watching the whole ordeal too. “You will know where to find me if I do not follow through.” “Then how about half?” he suggests. “That’s fair for both sides.” Hoseok ends up walking away without a single coin to his name. All nineteen of his shillings are gone, but the weapon will be ready in two days time. “Thirty eight…..” You shake your head, sighing. “That’s two horses. Four cows. That would be both our entire life earnings.” “It will be worth it,” he assures you while wearing a soft smile as you walk through the town’s streets. “I have not felt better about anything.” But you’re left unconvinced. “How will you come up with the other half?” Hoseok doesn’t know, but he’s afraid to admit it. “I have my mother’s copper wedding band. It’s the only gift my father gave to her.” But even then, it would only sell for two at most. He would still need seventeen more shillings. “I will figure something out. Don’t worry yourself.” “I will always worry.” You stop to meet his gaze. “If it comes to us, to you, I will always worry, Hoseok.” Hoseok looks into your gentle eyes and reaches out to brush away a strand of hair from your forehead. It’s a tender touch, one where he lingers longer than he needs to. This journey will be worth it — he will make it so that they hear him, so that they hear you — it’s a silent vow he takes. Hoseok ends up selling his mother’s ring for a shilling and a half, less than what it was worth. And two days pass with no more wealth to his name. But he still shows up anyhow, hoping he can stay indebted to the man and swear to pay him back. It was for a good cause after all. “You must be the warrior,” the apprentice exclaims when he sees him again. “You’re going to defeat some wildered beasts, right?” “Yes.” He smiles as the two of you lingering in the front. “My mentor didn’t even sleep trying to make your sword out of that precious thunderstone! It was so hard to work with since it didn’t want to break at all. It’s even better than steel.” The young boy grins. “It’s one of the best weapons I’ve ever seen too. No wildered beast is going to last with it.” “Let’s hope so.” “Let me go get him for you.” He drops what he’s doing to go to the back of the shop. As Hoseok waits patiently for the Blacksmith and his commissioned sword, you turn to him once more with that frown of yours. “Will he really let you be indebted to him?” “Perhaps. I’ll try to convince him,” he says and you may nod, but he can see there is more uncertainty on your mind. “What’s the matter? He won’t hurt us, Y/N.” “That’s not what I’m worried about.” Your voice drops to a murmur and you search his expression for truth. “Do you….really think this sword could kill a god, Hoseok?” “Kill a god?!” There is a deafening shout, one that rumbles his ears. The both of you whirl your heads over to find the Blacksmith standing there with a dark leather scabbard. The silver handle of the sword catches the light. But the man’s face is reddened and he shakes. “So this is what it’s all about?!” You gasp. “No, I—” Hoseok immediately comes to cover you, stepping forward so you are protected in his shadow. “It is our business, not yours.” “I asked around, never heard about an ogre around these places my entire life.” He points at the pair of you with his finger, his jaw clenched and teeth gritted. “You have deceived me, you ungodly heathen! You are more foolish than I had thought! This blasphemous sin will bring you to damnation!” “Then let it.” But Hoseok remains strong when he feels you tremble behind him. “I fear nothing.” “Get out of here! Get out!” The brawny man shoos the pair of you away while his apprentice looks on in equal dread. “Do not stand in my shop any longer. I have nothing to do with this, nothing at all!” He declares it as if the gods are listening when Hoseok knows they aren’t. The Blacksmith throws the sheathed sword at Hoseok. It clangs to the ground along with his sack of shillings. “I don’t want your silver! You blasphemous, foolish man! Get out of my sight!” The entire town has stopped to stare at the two of you. Strangers in an unknown place. The man continues to ridicule and humiliate, but Hoseok stares at the sack of shillings on the dirty ground. You hug his arm and he does not utter a single word to defend himself with. He has long lost his pride, so he merely picks up his coins and the sword. “Come on, let’s go.” He grabs your hand and pulls you away from the prying eyes. It doesn’t matter what profanity or curses are shouted at him — he has the sword and that’s all that matters. // You’re quiet, more than usual. You keep to yourself, answering him with mere nods and some mumbles. He tries to lift your spirits. After all, Hoseok has shillings returned, one of which he spent to pawn his mother’s ring back, but he also had the greatest weapon known to humanity at no cost too. He was in a better place than he had expected of himself. But he knows the man’s words have gotten to you, that you worry about his damnation. Hoseok even catches you praying that evening, but pretends not to see. “Where are we going now?” you ask that same night, sharing a room at an inn. Hoseok found it was the least he could do to provide you some comfort as it had been a long time since you had a roof over your heads. He would’ve chosen two rooms instead of one, but they had been full with no spares. “We will go to Heaven.” He folds his arms underneath his head, staring at the straw ceiling as he laid on the floor. As much as you had insisted he come up with you, he knew better than to share a bed with you when you were both still unmarried — even without the fear of gossip, the tradition still mattered to Hoseok. “How will we do that?” Your voice is soft. Tired. Hoseok turns his head and sees you rested on your side, staring straight ahead at the fire lit in the room. “Do you remember? Where fields are green and hills roll, there are meadows abloom and mortals lost on their stroll, flowers blossom, and scents of perfume—” The corner of your mouth finally quirks at his stiff singing, breaking the silence with his calm voice and precise articulation. “—where water bends, found a girl of Spring. Where forests end, birth that she brings,” you finish for him and Hoseok’s smile becomes tender. Your smile removes his thoughts of how his feet are aching from the journey. He savours the last note that lingers in the air before speaking up. “My mother used to sing that to me a lot.” “I remember. She sang it to me too.” Your eyes become saddened and you look at him. “You want to find the Goddess of Spring?” “I have heard many tales of her. I think I know where she may be — where forests end and water bends, where fields are green and hills roll. That’s the North forest.” “Many people have tried searching for her before, Hoseok.” “She allows people to come to her when they are truly in need. Are we not truly in need?” “Are you going to kill her?” you ask, brows knitting together once more. When he tells you he doesn’t know, you never become eased. “She won’t take us to Heaven to harm others, Hoseok.” “I’ll figure it out when we get there. You don’t have to worry. I’ll protect you.” When he sees that you are unconvinced, he lifts his arm to take your hand, holding it tightly and interlacing his fingers between yours. It’s a comforting touch, one that reassures the both of you. Neither of you let go and you fall asleep that way. When morning arrives, the pair of you begin your trek again, this time to the next town over. It shouldn’t take long before he reaches the North forest with you. The border was already close, but finding the Goddess of Spring was a different challenge on its own. He has nothing to go on but rumours, ancient myths and fairy tales told to children— “Hoseok.” You grab a hold of his sleeve, halting in your spot. He is startled but follows your line of sight, finding a woman dressed in white robes like a ghost haunting the living. She stands still in the middle of the bustle of the street, staring right at you. Her hair is long, eyes piercing and after a moment, she turns away and walks off. A priestess. Hoseok recognizes it from her attire. But before he can brush the stranger away and find which direction he needs to go in, you follow after her, cutting through the market and past the busy roads. Hoseok barely manages to catch up. “Where are you going?” “I think she wants us to follow her,” you murmur, eyes trained forward and never at him. “Why would she?” Hoseok grabs your wrist, stopping you in place and making you look at him. “We have no business with her as she does not with us.” “Do you trust me?” you ask earnestly. “I trust you, Hoseok. So, please? It won’t hurt.” Following the priestess leads the both of you to a white pillared temple, tens of steps that lead to the grand doors. There are erected marble statues all around and while he cannot read the golden letters up top, he recognizes the face from years of worship that his devoted father and mother had done. This temple was for the most revered god of all, the God of Sun, Seokjin. Hoseok notices that while the town was poor and foul, barely held together by straw and mud, the temple was spotless and full of gold trim and marble. “We should go in.” Without waiting for his protests, you enter and Hoseok is left sighing heavily and stomping up the steps while his fists clench. The interior of the temple was even more grand than it was outside. On the dome ceiling was a painting of stars and the sun, a depiction of daytime bleeding into nighttime and a picture of Seokjin standing tall with a phoenix behind him in blazing glory. Hoseok audibly scoffs when he sees it. “That thunderstone sword will not be enough.” The voice echoes all around him and he looks over to where the Priestess is standing in front of the alter and yet another marble statue of Seokjin, except it was more magnificent and detailed than the ones outside. Her eyes stray to the covered sword sitting at Hoseok’s belt. And his hands immediately wrap around the handle as if to protect it or draw it out if necessary. “Who are you?!” his voice reverberates throughout the temple, booming as if he were a god. “I am no one.” The Priestess smiles. “I am merely a worshiper of the Ruler of all Rulers, the God of the Sun, the Great Seokjin. But I also chart stars and constellations, and I have been waiting for you.” You step closer to her much to Hoseok’s dismay. “Waiting for us?” “Yes.” The woman smiles. “I cannot make prophecies and I do not know the future definitively, but I read that chaos is to come. The stars read of calamity and devastation, and I have heard the voice of the Goddess that is no longer. I have heard her tell me that I must fulfill my destiny and shall not fight it, so I will oblige as it is my duty to do so.” Hoseok does not understand what she means. He is sure she has gone mad from worshiping relentlessly without hearing answers back. He cannot blame her — he, too, would have gone insane if what he trusted in never helped him in return. Yet, he remains in his defensive position and narrows his eyes onto her. “What do you want from us?!” The Priestess’ eyes stray back to his sword again. “I want to bless that sword, so that you may be able to fulfill your desires.” Hoseok does not understand. There is no reason why a priestess who believes and worships the gods would help him kill one. “Why would you want to help us? What’s in it for you?” “I will not stand in the way of fate. I will not inhibit anyone from their journey. This is merely my purpose and I know now. That sword one day shall offer you the salvation you have always wished for.” He does not move. Not until you turn around and nod at him, smiling softly. Even then, Hoseok is hesitant as he approaches. But the Priestess never moves abruptly, never steals his weapon away from him. He is merely told to place it on the alter and does so while standing inches away in case he needs it to defend you. The Priestess returns, holding an open book in her arms and with one nod towards you, begins to repeat lines within it. The murmur of mantras and incantations echo around the temple eerily, the ritual proceeding without hesitation. “Hear my prayer.” This is ridiculous. A fool’s game. An act of nonsense and madness. But Hoseok does not stop it when you watch on quietly, your eyes trained on the sword and the Priestess, listening to each word she speaks. He does not stop it when it seems to bring you peace and hope. “Goddess of the Stars, of Light and Life, hear my prayer. You, who has made your sacrifice and succumbed to infinite pain and misery, do not let your efforts be in vain. Bless this sword so that it may fulfill its deed, so that it may provide the redemption for the glory of mankind and Heaven. Let the gods hear what they have missed, let them return to the people they have abandoned, and take away the wrath of humanity. Cleanse this horrible world and grant us with your mercy, we beg of you. Goddess of Loneliness who knows our suffering, hear my prayer.” When the incantation is over and the Priestess opens her eyes, Hoseok immediately takes the sword back, sheathing it by his side. The Priestess gently smiles at him. “The gods do not ignore our prayers. They simply cannot answer like we think they can.” He does not reply. You take her hands within yours, tears gathered at your lashes. “Thank you.” “Be well, child.” She cradles your cheek for a moment. “You need not fear as the benevolent will always be rewarded.” Hoseok takes you away from the temple before the woman can cloud your mind with absurdity. // The journey to the North forest isn’t a long or difficult one. Perhaps it is because he is coming closer to his ambition or that he has the sword right by his side that emanates protection, but time feels fast and he feels stronger than ever before. From a poor peasant without a family to a man who will kill a god. If this is his last accomplishment, he will feel satisfied. But unluckily for Hoseok, by the time the two of you reach the small village near the border of the forest, he finds out that the oncoming winter’s snow will prevent you both from entering. He wouldn’t pay any mind when he could climb icy walls and treading through blizzards, but when he discovers you weak and exhausted despite insisting that you aren’t, he decides to wait until Spring comes. The pair of you manage to find a small cottage on the outskirts of town, one that was owned by a baker and his wife that was meant for the baker’s mother until she passed away a Summer ago. The kind couple has allowed the both of you to stay at that place for a shilling every two weeks. Hoseok is sure the generous offer was only made because they assumed he and you eloped together — after all, it wasn’t often that two peasants would come from far to stay here. But he does not mind the curious rumours or the life that he leads here while waiting for the seasons to change. “You’re back already?” you turn around from your place in the common room and he smiles, entering with the firewood he chopped from the forest. He grins. “You don’t want me here?” “No.” You smile back. “I was worried that you wouldn’t be back before sundown. I’m relieved.” Hoseok sees that instead of resting like he told you to, there’s a needle and thread in your hands and his tunic in your lap. He sits down across from you with his brows raised. “And what are you doing here?” “I went to the shop today and a seamstress offered to teach me her trade. I thought I would start practicing.” “You don’t need to do that.” Hoseok wanted to care and provide for you — especially now that the two of you only have each other. He was trying his best to make sure you wouldn’t have to lift a finger and shoulder any hardships. He never wanted you to do anything laborious or difficult. “But I want to.” Your smile softens. “This is the least I can do. You can cut firewood and hunt for food, but we might want fruit and milk and cheese and you can only buy those things. Let me help, Hoseok. Surely you do not expect me to lie around all day. I would get sick doing so.” He grimaces and sighs. “Well alright. But if it becomes too hard, you don’t have to do it. I didn’t bring you all the way here to work, Y/N.” “I know.” Your gaze becomes tender and you continue sewing up the rip in his old tunic. The winter is cold and hard, but it’s easy when it’s just you and him looking out for one another. On days when Hoseok comes home without being able to hunt or fish, he returns to find that you’ve purchased bread from the baker, and barley and peas in the market. On nights where it’s too cold to sleep on separate straw mats, he holds you with your permission and the both of you cuddle up with one another. The cottage is swept, curtains washed and furniture cleaned. This is what he envisioned marriage to be like with you, and it’s better that he has no taxes to pay or fields to work on from dawn to dusk, but it’s still not enough. You shouldn’t have to strain your eyes to sew once the sun has gone down — he should not have to sleep on a hungry stomach on days he does not find hunt and the bread you buy isn’t enough — neither of you should have to shiver in the middle of the night when the wind creeps through the windows. So when the snow begins to melt, Hoseok takes the sword that was always on the table and begins to prepare for the final journey. “When are we leaving?” you ask quietly during supper, passing a bowl of porridge to him. “In the morning. The snow is gone and the grass has grown. I asked around and there are more myths from the villagers than I have ever heard. She should not be far. It is also the day that the people here will do their offering for the goddess. They will not notice if we are gone.” But when silence meets his ears, he looks up to see your hesitation, the slight furrow of your brows and how your eyes are pinned downwards. “Is something the matter?” “Don’t you like our life here, Hoseok?” You put down your spoon, clearing your throat. “You and I have a home, a warm place to sleep at night. We have food. The people here are kind to us. And you nor I must work under a lord. We are free—” “Do you really think our child could survive here?” Hoseok’s gaze is piercing, looking deep within your eyes. You shy away at the prospect of bearing his child, but he does not relent the thoughts that have plagued him. “What will happen to them when they fall sick?” “They won’t,” you murmur. “We will take care of them.” “You cannot be sure of that. I don’t want you to suffer, Y/N.” Suddenly the food is no longer appealing to him. He does not want to have a single bite. His voice drops to a whisper. “I still see my mother. Sometimes when I am cutting wood, I see my father standing there and watching me. I see my brother playing with the children in the streets. I see my sister crying while I eat. I…..” Your hand reaches across the table and clasps his. Your eyes search his expression and he eases, thankful that you’re here on this journey with him. “I refuse to stand by and let our suffering continue.” If you do not take for yourself, you will have nothing. “I’ll come with you,” you say to him with a smile and he nods, finishing his food in the comforting quiet. // The forest is alive — the trees not merely swaying to the warm breeze that comes during Spring. They dance together to the melody of the chickadee birds perched in their branches that are beginning to bud flowers for Summer. The animals seem to speak to one another, rabbits and squirrels tickling the tall strands of verdant grass as they bound through it. Where fields are green and hills roll, there are meadows abloom and mortals lost on their stroll, flowers blossom, and scents of perfume. Where water bends, found a girl of Spring. Where forests end, birth that she brings. Hoseok holds your hand, helping you tread through the forest floor with hidden roots, sticks and holes that animals have burrowed. It is beautiful here, serene, an oasis hidden from others. The sunlight seems to cascade through the canopy of the trees, illuminating the green into brighter hues. Your breath seems to be taken away as well, head lifted as you take in the nature. The corner of Hoseok’s mouth quirks, glad he was able to show you this sight. “Do you know where we’re going?” “The children said that they kept walking forward, sometimes they even sang.” You laugh and the sound tinkles in his ears, making him savour the noise. “You’re taking the words of children? How do you know we won’t be wandering aimlessly for days until we die?” “Because I would never let you die.” He turns around, giving you a softened smile that only makes your chest tickle pink and the shades of the universe become warmer and more vibrant. Hoseok persuades you to sing after a while and while it seems silly — like the both of you are merely playing as children, something that you never got to do — you follow his wishes. The stroll is pleasant but tedious. After a while, he slows and is about to ask if you’d like to stop for a moment, but then you tug his arm back, a gasp befalling your lips, and he follows your line of sight. There is a young lady walking towards the both of you, humming underneath her breath and seemingly paying no mind. She wears light pink silks, a soft hue that causes her skin to glow with the light coming through the trees. Her attire is translucent but layered as if they are petals of carnations swelling over. The cloths drape behind her and a flower crown decorates her hair that cascades down her back. Her features are delicate and kind. Hoseok has never seen a more beautiful girl in his life, but he won’t be fooled by appearances. “Excuse me.” He pulls you along before you have another second to blink. The woman stops, taking notice of you both. A tender smile spreads into her cheeks. “Hello. Are you lost?” “No,” he quiets his voice to match hers. “We were looking for you.” “Me?” The young girl laughs and it sounds like bells. The birds sweep over the trees, dandelions swaying as she tilts her head to the side. “And why would you do that? I don’t believe I know who you are.” “But we know you. Aren’t you the Goddess of Spring?” The Goddess of Spring. The controller of the vernal equinox, fertility of vegetation and of budding florals. Found where fields are green and hills roll, where the forest opens to a meadow and flowers are blossoming. The Goddess of Blooming Flowers. The Goddess of Birth. Hoseok knows well — at the beginning of each harvest, his parents had gotten onto their knees to pray. But she had never answered. The Goddess smiles knowingly. She is as soft-spoken as before but her voice seems to resonate around the forest as if she is commanding the trees and flowers to listen for her. “And what do you mortals ask of me to have traveled so far into my domain?” He feels you grab onto his hand, front pressed to his side when it is confirmed that it is indeed the Goddess of Spring standing before you. Hoseok squeezes your hand tightly. “We would like to ask the God of Sun for his blessing.” Hoseok has chosen. He will kill the God of the Sun, the greatest god of all, Seokjin. Only then will Heaven be shaken and finally listen to the will of the people. “Then why won’t you do an offering?” the goddess asks, lashes fluttering as she blinks curiously and pouts. “No.” He shakes his head and glances at you before looking at the Goddess of Spring. He lies easily, bluffs rolling off his tongue. “My wife bears my child within her, but it is ill. We have traveled far and wide in hopes of asking him ourselves for his blessing. We are merely peasants — faithful servants with nothing but faith.” His downcast head and folded hands are merely a reverent posture to fool the goddess. The Goddess lays her eyes on you both and seems to sulk. “Humans are not allowed in the realm of Heaven I’m afraid.” “I beg of you. We have nothing left. This is our last hope.” It isn’t complete deception — Hoseok thinks about his family, his father and mother, his younger brother and older sister, all of them gone in some way or another, left him throughout the years of his life. He has no objects to his name, no wealth, no real home — no pride or dignity. He has nothing, but you. “Seokjin is popular, isn’t he? Even when he isn’t a god of health or fertility….” The Goddess of Spring sighs lightly with a smile. “Fine. I will grant you mercy, pitiful human, and allow you to accompany me to Heaven.” The naive goddess extends her arm, palm facing towards the sky. You look at him with your brows knitted together. Hoseok squeezes your fingers in reassurance, and he takes the goddess’ hand. She never once notices the sword at his side. // Heaven is everything he had expected yet nothing alike to the stories he was told as a child. Where land should be, there are instead clouds — white wisps that make him afraid of straying off the path for fear of falling through completely. There are grand temples, extravagant places, lavish homes. There seems to be no end to it, the horizon boundless. Golden plants curl around white pillars and marble steps lead them to the largest palace at a distance away. Everything is decorated in marble that shines and gold that shimmers, never less and never more. The sun is bright but not blinding and the sky is as blue as the ocean itself. It carries a sweet scent of flowers and fruits and Hoseok can taste the fresh, crisp air on his tongue. It’s a divine place without worry or suffering. A place where Kings come to die. A city of riches and glory. It is everything Hoseok had ever wanted for you and him. It is the epitome of what he believes in— If you do not take for yourself, you will have nothing. Hoseok hears boisterous chortling and when he looks over, he sees gods in magnificent robes discussing with one another, each with dwarves by their side who bow their heads and fold their hands together. But once the gods notice his staring, they look back at him and become quiet. Their eyes widen. Hoseok holds your hand tighter, pulling you closer to him. “The timing is perfect actually,” The Goddess of Spring hums as she strolls towards the most grandiose palace that hurts Hoseok’s neck when he tries to look at it. “I believe the council is having a meeting.” The naive goddess is ignorant to the heavy whispers and murmurs from the other gods as they pass, how they huddle together and regard both you and him in mortification, horror and disgust. Hoseok speeds up his walking, discreetly keeping his sword near him as well. And once he makes it to the bottom of the palace, he looks up. The goddess is already hopping upwards, gliding towards the entrance and he exhales steadily, beginning the climb of a hundred marble steps. He’s so close �� all that he’s been looking towards for almost half a year now. Everything that he has placed you and him through….it was this moment that would matter the most. The God of Sun’s home is a paradise inside of Heaven itself. There are countless reverent servants drifting through the palace without looking upwards, each floor tile a piece of art in its own, giant pillars that raised up the ceiling that was seemingly limitless with clouds gathered at the top and the sky peeking through. But the Goddess of Spring cuts through the entrance and straight towards another door and neither Hoseok nor you linger to take in your surroundings. He follows the goddess swiftly and quietly as she pushes the golden doors open, and they creak slowly, revealing a blinding light. The room opens up to fifteen throne chairs placed in half a circle while the center one stands taller than the rest. But they are empty. The gods are instead dwelling in the center of the room, speaking to one another. Had Hoseok not known better, he would have thought they were simply aristocrats gathered together. “I’m here now!” Hoseok recognizes some of them. Jungkook, God of the Sea, that he knows by his hair that is the colour of magenta berries. Namjoon, God of the Underworld and Death, by his blackened robes and menacing aura, along with his wife Miyin, Goddess of Dreams, whose beauty rivals that of Goddess of the Spring. They stand idly in front. They’re all here, from the tales he heard about and prayed to. Hoseok watches as anger surges through him �� knowing that they were here, that they exist, but ignored his prayers. No one pays him nor you any mind as if they are used to overlooking servants. All fourteen gods ignore him, except for one. A god with milky skin and whose intense gaze lingers on Hoseok’s face, calm and collected, yet his cat-like eyes in the colour of obsidian are piercing. “Where were you?” One snaps. “My time is precious!” The Goddess of Spring sheepishly smiles. “I was caught up in something. I brought guests!” She steps aside. A few of them have their eyes widened. Others gasp. But Hoseok immediately lays his stare upon the god who he has sought vengeance against, the god he has chosen as his slaughter. The god of all gods, the ruler of all rulers, God of Sun, Seokjin. He stands three strides away, tall and radiant, in extravagant white and golden robes with hair the colour of the sunlight — glorious yet pathetic to have allowed the world to be in ruin. “Mortals?!” the Goddess of Dreams shrieks. “You brought mortals?!” “They are kind peasants and devout worshipers who have traveled far in search of Seokjin’s blessing. Their child is ill. I have brought mercy upon them by bringing them here.” The Goddess of Spring smiles and turns to the two of you as if it is your turn to get on your knees and chant your gratitude to him, revere his very being, canonize the god. But instead, Hoseok does what he has been practicing for months on end. What he has envisioned, pictured in his mind. He pulls you close, squeezes your hand. He steps forward once. His other hand wraps around the silver handle. Hoseok steps again — and he draws out the sword. It whistles as it cuts through the air. It catches the light and shimmers like the stars itself have been embedded into the surface. The weapon is heavy in Hoseok’s hand but his grip remains tight. The sharp blade is next to the god’s throat. “Don’t move.” Hoseok’s eyes darken and he holds his breath. He stares at the god and never blinks. “Seokjin!” The Goddess of the Sky cries out his name while the God of the Sea steps forward with his trident, but Hoseok shouts again— “I said do not move!” “Hoseok.” There is a murmur by his side. He can feel you trembling. “You really think a mere sword will hurt a god?!” Someone barks out in laughter behind him, but Hoseok is not dissuaded. “This is not just any sword. It was made by thunderstone from the greatest blacksmith. You won’t find this for another thousand years.” His mind searches for ways to make him seem more powerful in a room of fifteen gods, so he spits out the nonsense the Priestess had told him. “And it was blessed by the Goddess of the Stars.” That seems to catch some of the gods’ attention — namely Seokjin whose eyes flicker, deep as the dawn itself. The corner of Hoseok’s mouth quirks into an arrogant smirk. The God of the Underworld scoffs. “There is no such goddess!” “Shut up,” his wife quickly quiets him and no longer moves. She appears shaken, a goddess that trembles in her position. “So that really means something, doesn’t it?” Hoseok straightens his back, power surging through him. This is the last moment of redemption, what he had sought for. After being ignored for so long, he was finally being listened to. The God of the Seas steps forward again, but Seokjin lifts his hand. “You heard him, do not move.” He enunciates each syllable carefully and calmly, eyes fixed onto Hoseok’s. Heaven goes silent. “What do you wish for?” Seokjin asks, voice booming across the land, dropping into a menacing tone, resonating all around. “I want to kill you.” “And what will you gain from that?” “It will be my retribution.” Tears gather at Hoseok’s lashes as he thinks about his mother, his father, and his siblings. All those times he had gotten on his knees, times he had gathered his hands together in the darkness and prayed, sacrificed the last piece of bread and oats as an offering. The times he was beaten and left to die and what he thought were his last words were wasted on begging for salvation from the gods. Hoseok thinks about what his life could’ve been and what it ended up being. “I have lost everything. Everything because you did not hear me,” he spits and his grip tightens until his knuckles turn white. “I have suffered while you were here enjoying your riches and the fruits of our labour. You have never aided your people. You have never helped us. You have never answered our prayers.” The words echo. The God of Sun does not flinch nor look afraid. “And you are angry. You wish for my punishment, for the punishment of Heaven.” “I wish for you to see what an angry mortal truly is.” A small smile comes across the god’s features and while Hoseok is startled, he does not move an inch. “Your anger will not be lessened from this act, mortal. If you kill me, you will die here at the hands of the other gods and both you and your loved one—” Seokjin’s eyes stray to you. “—will wander the underworld without memories. Even if you live, the disruption of Heaven will not aid your troubles below. The hardships will continue. My death will not fix the problems that have plagued you and your loved one.” Seokjin inhales a breath. “But there is one thing you can do. It will give you all you have wished for and more.” Curiosity gets the better of Hoseok. “What is it?” “Become a god.” There is chaos, the shouts of gods behind him in protest, the screams and cries of dissuasion. The prideful God of the Underworld, God of the Sea, and Goddess of Love outright object with harsh voices. The Goddess of the Spring shakes her head and runs from the palace as if she could escape. The Goddess of the Underworld and God of the Moon do not speak, standing still as they watch in horror. The Goddess of the Sky sobs. There is thunder and lightning that rumbles the palace, rain that begins to drip upon the ceiling, thumping like the stars are falling. The rest are rioting or gasping and Hoseok’s jaw clenches. “Silence!” Seokjin sharply inhales when the blade comes closer to his flesh, nearly nicking at his skin. “Immortality,” The God declares. “You will become an immortal god.” “And what about her?” Hoseok asks, quickly glancing at you to find your distressed expression, eyes that hold tears of their own and the quivering of your frame. He itches to embrace you, but cannot. “She will be granted the gift of immortality as well, if she so chooses.” “No,” you speak up for the first time since entering the realm of Heaven and Hoseok gazes at you for longer, his eyes widening and his brows furrowing deep enough to hurt. But you remain steadfast and unwavering as if it did not even take you a moment to consider. “I do not wish to be immortal.” The corner of Seokjin’s mouth quirks, if anything, it’s out of amusement. “You deny a god’s generous gift?” “I only wish for enough to eat, for food and health. I wish for my family to live well and fruitfully.” “Y/N.” Hoseok sternly calls your name, but you do not look at him. You could do anything, have anything, but you are refusing the offer that he had worked so hard to come by, the offer that great kings and emperors would spend their lives searching for. “Very well.” Seokjin smiles and it’s radiant like the sun. “You will be given a health and prosperity blessing. I will assure you of this. A god’s words are his vow.” The God of the Sun turns to Hoseok. “And you? Will you take blessings to live a mortal life? Or will you become a god and protect the people that you have claimed we have abandoned?” Hoseok knows his answer. He had known the second it had come from the god’s mouth. If you do not take for yourself, you will have nothing. “I choose to become a god.” The God of the Sun, the god of all gods, the ruler of all rulers smiles. He extends his arm, hand lifted towards him. And Hoseok lets go of your hand to take Seokjin’s, palms clasping together. At once, the sword clangs to the ground horrifically. And in an instant, Hoseok has become the Immortal Being.

[Act II] Power has never surged through him so strongly before. He walks with his head held high, his posture straight, taking back the pride that was stolen from him since birth. Without the fear of death looming over him, he has become the almighty. Nothing and no one can stop him, not a godly being or a mortal human. He can finally do all that he has ever wished — provide for you. When the pair of you return to the village, rumours spread like wildfire. They had thought you were pregnant and eloped secretly to avoid the scandal or that the two of you had been eaten by wolves trying to run away. But when it is evident that neither happened, there is gossip that you’ve sold your souls to the devil or struck a deal with a witch. Whatever the case is, they are shocked and don’t know what the change is but can feel it. Hoseok knows this with the way they shy off after he stares at them for a prolonged moment. The way their own stares pin to his backside as he walks with vigor down the street, a peasant by name but no longer in blood. In fear of these rumours, the lord quickly evicts both him, you and your family off the farm, but it doesn’t matter. Hoseok easily takes care of your family. Following your wishes, your family is brought to the village near the North border; it’s the place that you had adored when the pair of you were hiding out for winter. Your mother and father stays with you while your brothers leave to learn trades, no longer held captive under the lord’s name. And they are thankful, even without knowing what has happened, they are grateful that he has helped them and that he had brought you back safely. Hoseok has never felt his chest bloom with more pride. He descends down from above, feet no longer on clouds but rooted to the ground. Hoseok inhales a breath and then crosses the distance from where he stands in the darkness to the cottage that has a dim glow from inside. One knock and then the door swings open. Giggles squeeze out your chest the moment he engulfs you in his arms and spins you around. “Hoseok!” you squeal and he sets you back on your feet. “Sorry, I missed you.” His smile softens as he gazes at you, but then quickly searches the room, afraid that your parents would disapprove of the inappropriate affection. “Is your mother…?” “Don’t worry, they’re asleep.” You grin and he enters, the door shut behind. The warm glow of the fire warmed the home and illuminated the profile of your face in its tangerine glow. “I was just about to head to sleep too.” “I’m sorry. I meant to come earlier, but I lost track of time.” “It’s alright. You’re here now, so that’s all that matters.” There’s an extended moment, one where you’re staring at each other intimately. And then you break away, clearing your throat. “Are you hungry? There are still leftovers if you’d like.” “It’s okay.” He sits down at the table, watching you stumble about endearingly. “I don’t need to eat anymore, remember?” “O-Oh, right.” You nod and timidly slump to the wooden chair next to him, hands folded in your lap. “I keep forgetting.” His smile softens and he takes your hand gently, caressing the back of it with the pad of his thumb. “There’s something I actually wanted to talk to you about today. I was planning to talk to your father about it, but I think I should talk to you about it first.” “What’s the matter? Are you in danger?” Hoseok chuckles, watching the way your eyes grow wide. “No, silly.” He holds your hand and whispers into the night. “I wanted to ask you...if you still wanted to be wedded to me.” Ever since becoming a god, Hoseok has no longer known fear. He’s not afraid of anything — not any mortal, any god or deity, not fate. But at this second, he has never been more nervous waiting for your response. Luckily for Hoseok, while he was born with all odds against him, his fortune came through you. A shy smile itches onto your face and you divert your vision into your lap, becoming bashful from the question. “Of course I do.” Hoseok laughs, trying to keep quiet not to awaken your parents, but the relief and happiness overwhelm him. His laughter is infectious and you giggle with him, finally meeting his eyes again. But he quickly removes the distance between you both for a warm embrace. He digs his nose into your shoulder and holds you close. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “For taking someone like me in, for still loving me when I had nothing.” Your arms wrap around him. “It doesn’t matter what you have, Hoseok. I’ve only wanted you.” He pulls apart from you, the grin nearly making his cheeks burst. “The wedding will be the most spectacular event in all of history. You will have the most beautiful gown, if you choose one, and we will have a feast for three days straight. All the gods will be there to congratulate us, just you wait.” “Wait…” Your smile fades and you grab onto his arm. “We’re having our wedding in Heaven?” “Do you not want to?” “W-Well, I was just thinking we could have one here. Something small where my family could come to…..” “Okay.” Hoseok quickly nods, not even taking a second to protest or disagree. “If that’s what you’d like. We can have one here and perhaps commission the baker for a small cake then.” Your smile returns, but it seems saddened somehow. Hoseok has known you well enough throughout his life to recognize it, but before he can ask if you have changed your mind about wanting to be with him, you ask gently— “Are you upset that I did not take the gods’ offer?” He shakes his head, searching your expression. “Why would I be?” “I could have lived forever with you.” The corners of his mouth lifts. “We will still be with one another for the rest of eternity. That, I will promise.” Hoseok squeezes your hand gently. “I don’t want you to be unhappy or make you do what you don’t want to. Unless...you regret it.” You shake your own head. “It’s not what I had come for. I...couldn’t leave my family behind.” “I know and it’s okay. I will take care of you. You don’t have to do or worry about anything. It’s my oath to you.” Even after becoming the Immortal Being, you are still the most important to Hoseok and the only one he has left. The gods may look at him in disdain, scoff as he passes them in Heaven, show their wrath through sneering and harsh comments that soil his name, but he does not pay them any mind. Why should he? They can’t do anything to him. “He cannot come and leave as he wishes! It is outright disrespectful! Dishonourable! He is a mere mortal.” “He is a god like the rest of us, Victoria.” “I refuse.” Hoseok approaches the two gods with his arms behind his back, his chin lifted in the air. No longer is he adorning dirtied tunics and trousers like a peasant, but tight black robes on his body, wrapped around his arms and legs and a sash at his waist. Becoming an Immortal Being has made his skin brighter, hair in a deeper shade of black, cheeks full and no longer hollow. The marks of hunger and exhaustion have all but vanished. “It is rather cowardly to speak about a god behind his back, isn’t it?” he pipes up loudly and the Goddess of Agriculture narrows her eyes onto him, expression pulling into one of disgust. The God of the Sun, on the other hand, regards Hoseok with a friendly smile. “You are no god to me,” she spits. Hoseok hums and nods. “And yet, I am standing right here.” “Let us be civil. This is no way for gods to speak,” Seokjin interjects as he witnesses another argument unfolding right at his palace’s entrance and he clears his throat, turning his attention to him. “Was there something you needed from me, Immortal Being? Are you settling in well?” “Yes.” In spite of nearly ending the God of Sun’s existence, he was still the most cordial of all the divine beings. Hoseok can’t help but think the others need to follow their leader’s example. After all, he is one of them now. “I just wanted to announce that I am to be wedded in a week’s time.” “With that disgusting mortal?!” Victoria interrupts with a shriek and her brows furrow. Her fists clench and she stands taller. “Gods do not marry mere humans. We do not stoop to their status. Clearly if you wish to be seen as a god, you have much to learn—” “That is enough.” Seokjin lifts his palm, silencing the goddess. She is even more appalled, but then he melts into a sheepish smile. “I can take it from here, Victoria. You may be dismissed.” “Hmph!” She spins around and struts down the marble steps of the Sun palace, disappearing from sight. Hoseok scoffs, watching her leave, never once afraid. It was different now that he no longer had to worship these gods, get onto his knees and press his palms together to make a worthless prayer, to put his last hope into deities that would never aid him… “You are being wedded?” Hoseok nods. “In a week’s time. It will be a simple affair.” “That is wonderful!” The God of Sun grins and the room becomes warmer. “I may be able to discuss with the Goddess of Love to perhaps grant you a blessing. The marriages she puts together rarely fails….but don’t tell her that or else I fear she may stop trying.” The Immortal Being smiles. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.” “I hope Heaven has treated you well so far.” The two of them walk together, deeper into his palace where paintings and antiques decorate the halls. It’s a place fit for the god of all gods. “It could be better, but it does little to bother me.” “Pay no mind to the other gods. They aren’t used to change.” Seokjin laughs boisterously by himself and Hoseok wonders how the ruler of all rulers can be so carefree. He doesn’t mind, but it is always surprising that the God of Sun is rather childish. “I would imagine it would be difficult for one to be a mortal and then a god. But you shall be used to it soon enough and you will find many things to do here in Heaven.” The man as radiant as the sunlight pats him on the back. “You are always welcome here if you so choose to be.” The two of them speak to each other for a few minutes more before Hoseok dismisses himself. It was difficult to track time in Heaven when he had only the sun to know what part of the day it is, but as he quickly leaves to have dinner with you, he is stopped by a goddess at the bottom of the marble path leading away from the palace. “You are a fool to have accepted his offer.” The Goddess of Wisdom, Yena, is in a loose purple chiton as deep as violet flowers. The excess fabric is pinned to her left shoulder, cinched in by the waist, a jeweled diadem on the crown of her head. Hoseok turns around at her voice and she does not hesitate. “The only reason the God of Sun gave you that offer was because he thought he could avoid a greater war. But no one threatens a god and wins.” “But I have,” Hoseok boldly declares with the corner of his mouth pulling. “I have cheated death and won against the gods. And someday I will become the most powerful. I will answer all prayers given to me. I will be the salvation that they have always begged for.” Yena sighs, shaking her head lightly. “Mortals always ask for more and more. They are never satisfied and you will come to learn it soon. The humans that the gods seek, answer and bless, the ones that we grant their desires to, they become kings and make others worship them. They know no appreciation once they have gained their ambitions. Mortals destroy, create, ruin and then beg. Mortals are selfish…..as are you.” Her eyes are piercing and she does not allow him to utter a world, merely walking forth. But Hoseok scoffs at her words, finding that even the gods were self-serving. That they would rather leave suffering as is than have mortals revere other mortals and not them. Truly, his belief has not altered— If you do not take for yourself, you will have nothing. He brushes away the Goddess of Wisdom’s words and returns to you. And as he had said to Seokjin, he indeed marries you in a week’s time. It’s a simple arrangement, a ceremony with your family and a few villagers, a cake and celebration in the town square, but it's one where you are wholeheartedly content. Hoseok can see it on your face, the way your eyes crinkle, your lips pulling into the brightest of smiles, the sound of your infectious giggles and the way his own heart blooms to see you like this. You are the most beautiful being in the universe — it is one thing Hoseok is sure of. Through all the things he had seen, all the goddesses and humans he has come across, there is no comparison. He has always loved you and it will never change. “I promise to treat you well,” he murmurs. Your smile is tender. “I already know you will.” And that same night, he pulls you closer than he has ever before. Your hand intertwines and the two of you unify your marriage, laying together and making love in your warm home. Hoseok kisses you until your lips are swollen and the muffled whimpers of his name turn to pleasured cries. Through all the sadness and struggles, the happy moments that he had feared were fleeting, Hoseok is finally able to hold you the way he wanted. He is happy to give himself to you, to hand you a piece of himself, and he is grateful that he can provide you with all you could ever want or need. “Is this even allowed?” Your giggles spill over the next midnight as he pulls you along, like two children making mischief in the night. “I thought mortals weren’t allowed in Heaven, Hoseok.” “It doesn’t matter — I’m a god now. Who will object to me?” Yet from the light spilling outside the Sun palace, he catches sight of the God of the Sea coming from the other way. Jungkook stops in his place, glaring, but he does not utter a word and you merely shuffle closer to Hoseok. The two of you pass as if the other god is not there. Hoseok brings you to the highest point of Seokjin’s palace, to a secluded terrace high in the sky. The horizon is blanketed in an abyss of darkness, but after a moment, silver pinpricks of light show themselves — they are millions of twinkling stars spilling over the sky, accompanying the full moon whose milk luminescence softly glows on you. And from this place, you can look over the many temples and smaller palaces, gaze upon the lights of Heaven. It is a sight neither of you would have witnessed out on the fields or on the farm. “Do you like it?” “It’s spectacular,” you gasp. Hoseok smiles, coming right behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, propping his chin on your shoulder and holding you as you lean on the terrace railings. “Do you think my family would be proud of me, Y/N? I keep thinking about what my mother, my father, my brother and sister would have thought of all this...” “I think….they would be happy to see that you don’t have to suffer like they did,” you murmur. A hum leaves his chest and his cheek lies on your shoulder. “When you said you would follow me, I was so happy. I love you, Y/N. I won’t put you through something like that ever again.” A smile comes across your features. And Hoseok keeps his words. For the entirety of your life, there is not a day where you work back breaking labour or sleep while hungry. Sickness, starvation and suffering never finds you nor your family. Your brothers find trades to work in and they live comfortably with wives of their own and start their own families. Your father passes away peacefully by his grandchildren and your mother in her sleep not long after. The rest of your life is shared with Hoseok — one where he is often gone during the day to Heaven but never fails to return to you. He has everything you could ever wish for and is prepared to fulfill each of your desires. If you wanted, he could conquer kingdoms and take lands, find fame and wealth beyond your imagination. All that is required is one word, but you never wanted much. It is a modest life that he leads with you. One not full of ambition, but of serenity and contentment. The cottage by the North border becomes your own, filled with precious memories and intimate moments. Meals are shared across the table through soft conversation and the fire warming up the walls and floors. There are never restless nights, simply ones where you are asleep while wrapped in each other��s arms. And your love for one another never diminishes. Decades pass as such, quicker than he can comprehend. While Hoseok does not age, he fails to notice the gradual wrinkles that come across your features, the steady graying of your hair, the way your movements become slower. To him, you are still the most beautiful girl that had come with him on his adventure, that had knocked on his door hesitantly to give him and his mother oats, who played with him as a child in the streets. Hoseok, the Immortal Being, loses track of time. One morning, he awakens to an empty bed and comes out to find you perched in a chair by the window, watching the slow sunrise. “Is something the matter?” he asks in a quiet voice as to not disrupt the peace. The sun was soft at dawn, the horizon coloured in rose and tangerine. It is quite a sight, one you are privileged to see, but Hoseok cannot admire Seokjin’s work when he is troubled. Your breathing is slow, but the corner of your mouth lifts. “I am dying.” “Dying?” The word befalls his lips without consideration, without being able to think. It is foreign. Strange to say. He had not thought about death for decades now. “What do you mean dying?” “I can feel it,” you say so easily that he cannot utter a single syllable. “My time has come.” Hoseok, a god, drops to his knees. He kneels before you, hands taking your wrinkled ones that are placed within your lap and he searches your expression. “Are you hurt somewhere? Are you ill? Tell me and I will help you. There is nothing that cannot be fixed. I am a god! No one...no one can take you away from me.” But you slowly shake your head. “I am losing my senses, Hoseok. It is harder to breathe and….everything feels like a dream.” Finally, you turn away from the beautiful sight of dawn and meet his eyes. A tender smile spreads into your wrinkled face and your palm lifts slowly to cup his cheek. He has not aged a single day, as handsome as when you had married him, as lovely as the way you spent your life together. You had grown old with him. But he had not grown old with you. “My life has felt like a very wonderful dream, and for that, I thank you, Hoseok. You have been my greatest companion, the greatest friend and husband I could have ever hoped for.” Your voice croaks, soft and quiet. “I feel nothing. Content, perhaps. I could not have asked for anything more. It has been….a wonderful life.” The Immortal Being gently calls for you. “Y/N.” “Y/N.” Hoseok calls your name intimately. Your best friend, husband, says it while your gazes are locked onto each other’s. “Y/N.” And it is the last thing that you hear. You fall forward and his arms spread to catch you. Your breathing slows, chest pressed against his and your eyes flutter a few times before they shut. Hoseok embraces your body with trembling arms, having watched you die, and he cries. They are tears of a god. And they shed down his cheeks while his lips cry out your name. The name of his wife, of his companion, tear from his throat and take the breath away from his lungs. Hoseok sobs with an agony of what he had only known as a mortal and he cradles your head against his shoulder, holding you close, calling you to wake up again. But you are gone and it is something not even a god can undo. // Hoseok strides through heaven with the wrath of the universe surging through him. Heaven has never been a home to him and it will never be one now — not when they have scorned him, loathed him and still betrays him to this day. He finds the goddess he is searching for and not for a moment does he hesitate. Hoseok comes to her within three strides and before her features can twist and she can bark at him to leave, he grabs a hold of the collar of her robes with tightening fists, knuckles turned white, and he holds her up. “You!” Hoseok spits between gritted teeth, his fury tangible in the air and suffocating her. The Goddess of Medicine and Healing, Irene, pales at his expression. Her eyes are wide and her face falls, terror replacing her contempt. Her hands raise to his wrists as if she can pry him off but the effort is futile. The other gods who are witnesses stand still, frozen in their places at the change of the Immortal Being, no longer indifferent or docile. They watch as Hoseok shakes her. “You said you would bless her with health!” he screams at the top of his lungs, echoing loud enough for all of Heaven to hear. “All she asked for was a blessing of prosperity and health!” At once, Irene knows what he is talking about. After all, it was no secret that the Immortal Being only cared about one mortal. “I-I did!” she shouts back. The bones in Hoseok’s hands crack, his grip so tight that his nails sink past the clothing and into his own skin. Sobs break through his frame, streaming down his face and the goddess is even more horrified. His jaw clenches, teeth grinding hard against each other. “Then why did she die?!” The shout is startling and he releases his grip on the Goddess of Medicine and Healing. Irene collapses to the ground and looks up at him in disdain, her brows knitted together. She moves a strand of her hair back and huffs. “Whether you believe me or not, I did it! And it worked. She was supposed to succumb to disease at twenty four, but she instead lived until eighty. Eighty! She would’ve even lived a more prosperous life without your constant meddling!” Hoseok remains silent. These are not words he wanted to hear. “What do you want me to do?” Irene hisses at him. “All humans must die. Death is inevitable!” “She is to be reborn,” Hoseok demands, fists by his side as he looks down at the pathetic goddess. His shadow looms over her, his eyes unforgiving. “She must come back.” “The gods are reborn. Not mere mortals,” she seethes. “What did you think would happen, Immortal Being? Death takes all. Except for you. Each person begins their cycle again for a fresh start, but you are stuck. It is your curse to shoulder and no one else’s!” Hoseok glares at her through narrowed eyes and then he turns around, vanishing from Heaven. Within a few seconds, he manifests himself into the realm of the Underworld. A place where there is no rise or fall of the sun, no change of moons, where time is even harder to tell. There is only the flickering flames of candles, constant whispers in corners and shadows that seem to follow unknown guests. But Hoseok pays no mind to the desolate wasteland, to the land of black where dead trees with naked branches curl in bizarre directions. He wastes no time and pushes open the double doors. “Where is she?!” The God of the Underworld, Kim Namjoon, dressed in the darkest of robes that glows black emanates intensity and power. He stands from the seat of his grand throne as does his wife, Goddess of Dreams, Miyin who is in loose robes and her eyes cat-like — darkened orbs that glimmer and are reminiscent to the stars. “How dare you enter my domain without permission!” he bellows deep within his stomach. “Who are you to come in here and demand things from me!” “Bring her back!” Hoseok shouts with a surge of anger shaking through him, ignoring the god’s warnings as he comes to stand at the foot of the stairs to their throne. “She was here, wasn’t she?! Wasn’t she?!” “The audacity you have to stand here and expect my answers! You are a fool!” Miyin places a hand on her husband’s shoulder, more sympathetic to Hoseok’s grief that she is able to easily recognize as it had once been her own. “You are in search of your companion, correct? Y/N was her name.” You were here — Hoseok is sure of it now. “Where is she?” “Her soul has been judged and she has passed to the land of the Underworld,” she tells him. “Bring her back,” Hoseok says, calmer than he was before when he now knows where you are. “I need to see her.” The God of the Death, Namjoon, barks out in laughter. He shakes his head with a fond smile. “You have not changed from the fool you were, Immortal Being. You cannot come to the Underworld and demand for souls to return. That’s not how it works, no exceptions are made.” “Bring her back!” Hoseok shouts and it only serves to aggravate the god. A muscle in the god’s cheek twitches and then he hollers— “Leave!” The shadows push him out, binding his fighting limbs until the Underworld palace’s doors shut with a boom and he is alone on the other side. No one will help him. No one will lend a hand. No one will give you back to him or tell him how it could be that an all-knowing god who is as strong as he is can be so defenseless and incapable. Even as a god, Hoseok is powerless. “Y/N!” Hoseok shouts at the top of his lungs, calling out to you and allowing the barren darkness to echo back to him. “Y/N!” He will not beg. Not pray. He will do it himself — he will search for you, even if it takes a hundred or a thousand lifetimes. He has no shortage of time. He has no shortage of lives. “Y/N!” The Immortal Being travels the abyss of the Underworld himself, crying out while walking through dead forests where no trees can blossom flowers, streams with seductive lures for him to drown in, terrains of violent winds that make it hard for him to see. Hoseok is not sure how long he spends in the Underworld when he has lost track of time, but he does not stop trying. He does not stop even when he has not encountered a single wandering soul. But after what seems like eternity, a figure emerges from the darkness. “Go home, Immortal Being.” Miyin stands stagnant in her spot, a melancholic expression rested on her beautiful features. The creeping gloom seems to hug at her figure as if the shadows are acquainted with her presence. “This is no place for you to stay.” “I can’t,” he murmurs and shakes his head despite knowing in the eyes of the goddess, he has become mad and deranged. Hoseok cannot leave you behind. He won’t. “You will never find her,” the Goddess of Dreams and Underworld announces as if she is writing fate. “I will make sure of that. Your unborn child will never reach you either.” He turns his head, eyes locking into hers. “Unborn child?” “She was with one, many decades ago but lost it. I suppose she has never told you of the tragedy, but your mourning cannot be done here.” Miyin’s eyes harden. “You have taken what you wanted and left her. To live forever is to watch those around you die. It is the punishment you must pay for being greedy and prideful.” Hoseok slowly shakes his head. “I cannot accept it.” “But you must.” He had become a god not to know suffering any longer, not to feel this grief and agony. But now he cannot escape this anguish. He realizes he can never be laid to rest. He cannot die. The Immortal Being does not speak a single word. He merely looks to the goddess and then vanishes from the Underworld, leaving you behind somewhere in this desolate land wandering.

On the one year anniversary of your death, Hoseok drinks inside the cottage that was once your warm home. But it is a shadow of once was, full of dust and cobwebs. Hoseok doesn’t dare touch anything, afraid to ruin the last remnants of you.

On the second year anniversary, Hoseok spends it in Heaven to lessen the pain of the mortal world absent of you. But the gods shut their doors. No one welcomes him. No one smiles. He does not belong here.

On the third anniversary, Hoseok tries to drown himself. Neck deep in the cold water, he plunged into the darkness without taking a gasp of air. It doesn’t work. The God of the Sea is cruel, using the harsh tides to drag him back to shore. But Hoseok knew it would have happened either way — no matter how many years he has to spend at the bottom of the ocean or drifting on the surface…. He can’t die.

On the tenth, Hoseok is underneath the stars. He has traveled the world with simply the clothing on his back. He has seen rivers and mountains, glaciers and forests. But none of it amazes him anymore. It all looks the same.

On the twentieth anniversary, Hoseok is sitting on a throne, looking out on his court. He has taken regions and cities for himself, a triumphant kingdom in his name. He has accomplished his ambitions, answered the prayers of people and have them worship him. They always come back asking for more, demanding more and more. But he has everything — all the wealth and riches his mind could’ve possibly conjured. He has a palace, land, gold. But they mean nothing to him.

On the fiftieth anniversary of your death, Hoseok realizes that no one threatens a god and wins. It had taken too long by his lonesome to learn this fact — in a place where he does not belong, in a place where he should no longer be. He has stayed the same, not even a hair different. But when he looks into the mirror, he cannot recognize the person he sees. The only way he holds onto his sanity is through his memories with you as all the things he has ever known becomes replaced, changed and evolved as he remains idle, trapped in his time. He no longer recognizes the world as it once was. His home with you has long been buried through time, ash and warfare. No one remembers him anymore. And he has become an old, old man inside. Yet there is no end in sight. No salvation. No redemption. Death cannot take away his pain. Hoseok descends down to the corner of Heaven, where clouds have darkened and the flowers have wilted. The wooden framed house is cozy, but the windows are barred with steel rods. The door handles are chained, locked with divine powers. He approaches and as if the goddess inside has sensed his presence, she comes to the barricaded window. At the sight of him, the Goddess of Spring furrow her brows deep enough to hurt, beauty marred by her anger. Her features are worn, hair in disarray, the wild allure he had once witnessed dimmed down when she is away from her true home of nature, green meadows and forests alive. The goddess’ teeth grits and she grips the bars that have imprisoned her and kept her from liberation — much like him. “What do you want from me?” she spits at him in malice, spite wrapped around each of her enunciated syllables. “Was it not enough to trick me? Now you have come to mock me?!” “I have come here to mourn with you.” “Mourn with me?” “The God of Sun has punished us both,” Hoseok says. “My wife, she has passed away and I cannot join her. And you, you have been confined to this home for decades because of one mistake, because of one error in judgment.” Because she was kind and benevolent enough to bring Hoseok and you to Heaven all those decades ago, because she trusted in mortals too much. “You deceived me,” she whispers in exasperation. “And Seokjin knows the fault is not yours, yet he still chose to punish you.” The Goddess of Spring hasn’t been able to return to the mortal realm since Hoseok has been made the Immortal Being. She has not seen what her Spring has created. And her resentments are easy to see — they are similar to his own. “Why did you come here?” she murmurs, hands falling to her side as she looks away from him. “I want you to join me.” “For what?” “What I should’ve done from the start.” “You are a fool. Have you learnt nothing?” The goddess shakes her head. “You cannot kill a god.” “Yet I almost did.” The two of them look at one another. “He had tricked me into taking immortality and he has punished you unfairly for decades. Consider this, Goddess of Spring. I am your only way to be free.” If you do not take for yourself, you will have nothing. The Immortal Being vanishes and reappears in the desolate lands he was once banished from. Time has passed since then, the anger perhaps faded despite the contempt that stays. He makes sure to announce his presence this time, following the conduct that the gods have self-constructed, so that his appearance is not unwanted. And after a long moment, the servant comes out and gestures for him to enter. The only person who occupies the throne is God of the Underworld, Namjoon. His wife is missing, attending a pompous event in Heaven and it is the timing that Hoseok had waited for. “It seems as though you have learnt from last time, Immortal Being. Yet you face me once more today. You learn, but remain foolish.” The God of the Underworld looks down upon him, seated at his grand throne, grasping at his arm rests and sitting tall. Hoseok is unpersuaded in the act of intimidation, looking straight into the gods’ eyes. “I have not come here to request that you bring back a soul.” “Oh?” Namjoon’s brow cocks. “Then why do you stand before me, Immortal Being?” “I want you to be my ally,” Hoseok says and Namjoon wears an amused smirk, attention immediately captured. “Of my time spent here in Heaven, it has become clear to me that you merit a better place than where you stand.” “And what place is that?” “In Heaven. On the highest seat of the council.” “You suggest I take Seokjin’s place?” “I suggest that you are entitled to more than you have.” Hoseok’s voice of persuasion is loud, booming across the throne room. “The universe needs reform. Seokjin is weak-hearted and me being here after holding a weapon against his neck is a symbol of that. And it is odd to me that you cannot rule over the living or those in Heaven, even when all entities come to you for their judgment.” The God of Underworld barks out in boisterous laughter. “Perhaps you are not as foolish as I have initially perceived. But why shall I put my trust into a cunning creature like you?” “Because I want my revenge against Seokjin. He has misled me into this immortality.” The god’s smirk only expands.

Fire. The world is on fire. There are shrieks of mortals crying out for their families and loved ones. It is deafening — the screams of men beseeching mercy, only to be slaughtered, the sobbing of children who have their mothers assaulted in front of them. The intense smell of iron, the scent of blood has filled the world. The land is burnt, homes reduced to ash, the gray clouds covering the sun and sky and bringing upon the darkness that cannot be dispelled away. The universe reveals its true interior of ruin and cruelty. The vicious without remorse rises above all else. There is no salvation. There is no redemption. All that exists is suffering. And the people have finally come to realize that the gods do not listen to prayer. No matter how many gods they worship and pray to, they will never answer. No matter how hard they try to remain devout and pious, nothing will ever be given in return. The gods do not aid the meek or punish the sinners. They do not counsel the grieving and do not have mercy on living souls. There is no glory in faith. With the God of Death and Goddess of Birth on his side, lead astray with their own resentments being used as weapons, Hoseok has truly become the most powerful being in the world. And the universe is brought to war. It is a revolution of discontentment — of the Goddess of Spring unleashing her wrath by slaughtering the humans who have plucked her flowers and destroyed her season, by the God of the Underworld using mortals as puppets and tricking them into killing each other, by the people themselves revolting against their deities. They destroy statues, bring flames to temples, condemn the gods they have kneeled to for centuries who had never lent out a reaching hand. There can be no gods if there are no worshipers. In the span of a few days, Heaven has lost all glory. It is empty, a desolate place that has become darkened with gods who have abandoned their people — those that have run into hiding and those who have chosen to fight. The ones that remain are those foolish enough to hold onto their pride and dignity, too pompous to flee from the falling paradise. “It has been raining for days.” The Goddess of Love is staring out at the downpour that has clouded the Heavens and made it darker, turning gold and white to shades of gray. “The world is becoming flooded.” Several of the council members turn their heads towards Jungkook, God of the Sea. But his own eyes are pinned on the Goddess of the Sky who is as guilty as she is sorrowful. “I cannot help it,” she cries and the rain outside becomes heavier. “Then do something to help it!” Jungkook shouts and it rumbles across the room. The bottom of his trident slams against the tiled floors. “I did not call forth these storms!” “What am I supposed to do?!” the goddess asks of him, helpless. “We did not come here to argue,” Yoongi cuts through, a source of calm in the chaos. “The storms are slowing them down and the flood will prevent mortal infantries and troops from moving forth. There will be fewer casualties because of it.” “But they are coming to us,” Yena, Goddess of Wisdom, speaks up. She turns to the most important figure in the room who sits on the highest throne, yet remains expressionless and quiet. Instead of fifteen members of the council, there are only thirteen. “The Immortal Being, the Goddess of Spring and God of the Underworld. They are coming for you.” “Then let them.” “They want to harm you, Seokjin,” the Goddess of Love harshly whispers, unable to believe what was coming from the God of Sun’s lips. It sounded like defeat. “They want to kill you.” “How will they?” Jungkook scoffs. “They do not have the sword.” “How are we not sure the God of the Underworld has not obtained it?” someone else asks. “It is protected,” Miyin declares to the entire council. The sword that Hoseok had forged all those decades ago, the only one who could end a god’s cycle of reincarnation, has been kept safe with her. It is away from Heaven and the mortal realm, away from the hands of other gods and grasps of humans. “I have made sure of it.” Another god in the council barks out in cold laughter. “And how do we know we can trust you?! How can we know you aren’t helping your husband?!” The Goddess of Dreams stands at once. “You dare accuse me of betrayal?!” “The God of the Underworld has! Why would you not?!” “I am not my husband!” “Do you expect us to foolishly believe you had no implication in this matter? That you did not know of his plans?!” “How dare you—” “Enough.” Seokjin’s voice booms across the land, causing silence to spread through the throne room. “The council must make its decision today on what to do. All other matters will be pushed aside.” Miyin huffs, sitting back down, but enunciates each word sharply, “The only gods who know where the sword is exactly is Seokjin, Yoongi and I. It is in safe possession. The Immortal Being will never have his hands on it again.” “If they are coming for Seokjin, then he needs to leave,” the Goddess of the Sky speaks. “He will be protected away from Heaven.” “And where will he go?” Jungkook counters. “The Goddess of Spring knows the mortal realm and the God of the Underworld rules the underworld. What do you suggest?” The goddess opens her mouth, but then shuts it. “The world is wide. Perhaps he could reside in The God of Sea’s palace for some time or even the moon palace.” The Goddess of Love turns and looks at Yoongi who nods silently. But Seokjin interrupts, shaking his head. “I must stay,” he affirms. “The world cannot go on without the sun being lifted.” “But—” “It would truly be an Armageddon without the sun. And I am the ruler of all rulers, the god of all gods. If I abandon Heaven, what will be left of it?” The Goddess of Love and Affections protests, “This is no time to be worried about pride or glory—” “I have said my answer.” “Then we must find a way to defend ourselves,” someone states. “They cannot succeed.” Another nods. “We must defeat the gods and capture them.” “Or we eliminate the Immortal Being completely.” Jungkook turns his head, looking at each member of the council. “He should have never been made a god in the beginning. Look at where it has brought us. He is not meant to be one. He is a mortal in birth.” “The only way we can do such a thing is if we utilize the sword,” the Goddess of Love murmurs. “No.” Miyin stands again. “Absolutely not. The Immortal Being is trying to obtain the sword. It is the very thing he wants. Bringing it to Heaven only risks it falling into his hands.” “How could it?” A god argues. “If it is in Seokjin’s possession, he will not lose it and it will be used as a weapon to defend himself.” “If it keeps Seokjin safe, I agree that it should be brought here,” someone on his left pipes up. Another on his right disagrees. “We will not kill anyone — it would be doing what he has sought to do, and as gods we are above that. We must show that we are above these barbaric acts.” “But even if we captured the Immortal Being and he is sent to the farthest pits, there will always be a risk that he will return for vengeance. Heaven will never truly be at peace.” “The Immortal Being may have become a god through sinful means, but he is nevertheless a god. We do not destroy or kill divine beings!” “He is not born a god. He does not hold the same honour as the rest of us.” “He has betrayed Heaven and started war — it will be his punishment.” “The sword is better kept far away, not to be used or even touched. What happens if it falls into his hands? All of us will be at his mercy.” “The risk is something we must take. If the God of Sun dies, there will be nothing left. The plan will work and then the sword will be swiftly returned to the Goddess of Dreams once more. It will be out of their reach.” Seokjin exhales. The voices of the gods and goddess swirl in his mind, making his temples throb. The weight of his crown feels heavier this evening, but he bears it without showing weakness — he cannot show exhaustion at such dire times. “We will vote,” Seokjin announces and it quiets down each god and goddess. “All those in favour of using the sword.” Jungkook with the Goddess of Love among many others lift their hands. The God of Sun keeps count. “All those in favour of not.” Miyin and Yoongi and another handful raises their arms. The vote is six to six. He is the last one to make the decision. // The once splendored bliss of Heaven is no longer. The temples and palaces have been deserted. The night sky is clear but moonless, the noise of thunder and lightning resounds from afar. It may be peaceful, but only because there is no one left of this land that stands before him. All have left in the wake of conflict, to fight or to flee. The gods have forsaken their duties, left the mortals they were supposed to protect and guide — Seokjin can see it now. He has laid witness to the devastation and calamity, but cannot fix the blame on mortals or a selfish few. The decades of pride and ruthlessness of the deities have led to this moment. It is his mistake for this destruction. And it is now that Seokjin finds remorse for the dwindling compassion the gods have had for suffering, for being merciless and punishing. But he will never abandon it. He will never give in. No matter what the cost is, the God of Sun will never concede or stop fighting to maintain his home of Heaven. He will do everything that is within his powers, use every tactic until he can no longer stand — until his last breath is taken. “They are here.” A calm voice fades into his thoughts and Seokjin turns to an old friend dressed in black robes that bleeds into a milky shade at the hem. Yoongi, the God of the Moon, has always been the composed source of comfort that the God of Sun needed. “You are stubborn for staying,” Yoongi says as they come to stand side by side on the palace’s terrace, looking out at a desolate paradise. “But it is the only way we can win,” Seokjin murmurs and then turns to the god. “What do the stars say? Have you read them?” Yoongi lifts his head, eyes gazing over the horizon filled with twinkling pinprick lights that are watching over the catastrophe. Even without the moon, the stars provide the luminescence needed. “There are signs of destruction and fire…...but they are aligned oddly. I have never seen these constellations before. They go against what I have been charting recently.” Seokjin nods, exhaling steadily. “You should go help Jungkook at the gates. I fear he is struggling to keep them at bay.” Yoongi eyes the other god carefully. “All of Heaven is empty. There are many gods who would not want me to leave you here by yourself. I have promised many of them to stay here with you.” “But you won’t.” A slow smile spreads into the god’s face. “You will leave and preserve yourself. There is no need to worry about me. If I am worthy of your concern then I am not the god of all gods.” Yoongi scoffs lightly at Seokjin’s mischievous disposition, how he can still jest during such dire circumstances. The God of Moon gazes at the God of Sun for an extended moment, sharing thoughtful expressions before he takes his leave — trusting in his will and in his intentions. Seokjin watches as his old friend departs towards the calamity that can be heard thundering from the gates and rumbling the floor of Heaven itself. He stares up at the night full of stars, knowing and waiting to lift the sun above the horizon. Dawn is coming. In five minutes time, he will have to bear the weight of the sun on his shoulders, hold the beams of light until it releases on its own…. But within three, the person he has been waiting for appears. The Immortal Being crosses the hundred steps to the terrace of the palace with exhausted features, sweat dripping from his hairline, dirt pressed onto his cheeks. But his eyes remain strong, gaze unwavering and he comes face to face with the God of Sun. “Hoseok,” Seokjin calls him like he is calling a friend. “I’ve been waiting.” “Have you?” Hoseok is weary, his lids heavy yet unable to be closed for longer than a few seconds, his posture slumping from the many years he’s been alive without permanent rest. “You’ve come alone,” he notes. The Immortal Being nods. “There doesn’t need to be anyone else present.” Long ago, they had stood in front of each other in a similar manner — in the middle of the throne room with a blade held to the god’s throat, a threat made and a deal exchanged. It seemed like the circumstances have changed once more, that now the opposite was true. But the God of Sun knew better. Seokjin was not going to kill Hoseok. Not at this moment. Not ever. “I know why you’ve come here.” Seokjin smiles tenderly, the corner of his mouth pulling, and he lifts the sheathed sword by his side. Hoseok’s eyes fall towards it. “I don’t think you do.” “Trust that I do,” he speaks softly. “I had thought about it. For nights and days. I wondered why you would seek such calamity when you had always wanted to become a better god than I. When you wanted to answer the prayers of other mortals. I could not make sense as to the reason for creating such devastation and suffering, of leading the God of the Underworld and Goddess of Spring against me. It could not be from vengeance alone.” “And what have you made of it?” Seokjin approaches Hoseok, closing the distance between them through three wide strides. And then the God of Sun hands him the sword, giving it to him with the raise of his arm. “You have no plans of killing me,” Seokjin says, staring at him wistfully. “You wish to free yourself of the binds of immortality.” Hoseok’s hand wraps around the silver handle — and he draws out the sword. It whistles as it cuts through the air. It catches the light and shimmers like the stars itself have been embedded into the surface. The weapon is heavy in Hoseok’s hand but his grip remains tight. He moves the sharp blade next to his own throat. Seokjin does not stop him, knowing this is what he wanted from the start, that this was the only way to obtain it. This was the way to end his punishment. Hoseok never wanted retribution. He wanted liberation. “You are selfish. Even in these last moments,” the God of Sun says. “Selfish when you brought your soulmate with you. Selfish when you chose to take immortality. Selfish when you continued to see her after achieving greatness and for causing this destruction for your redemption.” “I know.” Hoseok cries. They are tears of a god and they shed down his cheeks like rain. He stares up at the sky full of stars that are glimmering and gleaming, watching over the universe silently. He thinks of you, his wife and companion, and his soul yearns sorrowfully. “I have been a fool. For so long, I spent my life pitying myself. I never knew what was enough...until now.” If all you do is take for yourself, you will have no one. Hoseok’s eyes flutter shut. A smile spreads into his face. This is his salvation. The salvation he had been waiting his entire existence for— He pierces himself, running the blade by his throat, allowing the warm blood to wash down his body. It is painful — but a physical sort of pain he had not felt for nearly a century. Your name is the last thing spoken from his lips, and then he falls forward, dying on the steps of Heaven as the sun rises. Hoseok is free.

It is an odd place. A place where there is no rise or fall of the sun. There are no change of moons and time is even harder to tell. Darkness lingers in each corner, trees with twisting branches that never bloom of flowers. But in spite of how desolate this land is, he feels at peace, even when he cannot remember how he has come here, where he comes from, what he is. All he knows is his name. Though as he wanders aimlessly, floating through the space, he comes across the most beautiful soul he has ever seen. So with childlike wonder, he approaches and manifests himself into a tangible form. The soul he is gazing at also alters into a translucent body and spins around to look at him, having felt his gaze. And your eyes clear, no longer hazy. He can’t help but find something familiar about you, something that seems to satisfy the long yearning of his own soul. A smile lifts across his face, one that makes you curious enough to blink at him, and Hoseok extends a hand to introduce himself.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #bts angst #hoseok fluff #hoseok fanfic #hoseok angst #hoseok scenario #HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY Y'ALL #this is my gift to you #Im just so psyched to share this story #I'm very proud of it #also i dont know why I keep giving my best stories to Hoseok lol #my stories for him are always ones im so damn happy with

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