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vettelsvee · 4 months ago

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GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 1: I'LL SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

rb sebastian vettel x gf!reader

word count: 4095

summary: seb's gf finds out she's pregnant, and she decides that hiding her pregnancy is the best she could do due to seb's career

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of cheating, curse words, angst, fighting. set on may 2013. for a bit of background: reader and seb have been friends since they were literal babies, but growing up their feelings changed and started dating on 2006.

a/n: this is actually the first chapter of the very first series, Infinity, i posted here! i had to cancel it because i had some problems with wattpad people telling me through indirects i copied their work and i got very, very unmotivated with this story i absolutely love (when actually this was a draft I had of a tom holland fic back in 2017 lol), but i'd love to post the following parts if you like this one! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

You pulled the flush and got up, being careful not to get dizzy. You took some paper and wiped the corners of your mouth to remove any possible traces of vomit. You headed to the sink automatically, quickly pulling out the toothbrush you’ve gotten used to carrying since nausea became part of your daily routine. You really tried to get rid of the acidity in your throat and the bad taste in your mouth, but as you expected, and knowing you've been experiencing this more times than you'd like in the past month and a half, it was impossible.

"Y/N, are you still there? Are you okay?" Britta's voice, accompanied by a few knocks on the door, snapped you out of your trance. You startled and forced yourself to answer, even though it was the last thing you feel like doing.

"Yes, I’m coming. Just a sec!"

"Don’t take too long," she replied. "Not that I don’t want you to take your time, but Seb is worried."

Panic-stricken, you suppressed a laugh that almost escaped.

If only he knew what you were about to do…

"Don’t worry, I’ll be right out," you answered.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating your own reflection longer than you’d like. Minutes passed, and you almost completely lost track of time, aware that you needed to put an end to the intrusive thought that was telling you that what you were about to do was, wrong but inevitably the best thing.

You were going to break away from everything you’ve wanted since you were a child just because things hadn't turned out "right." Seb was at the peak of his professional career, constantly surpassing himself in every race, making history, while you remained stuck in your hometown, working at a bar, dealing with drunks and immature kids pretending to be adults daily, because you didn’t have the luck, or perhaps the financial means, to study what you had dreamed of since you were a child who just wanted to make music.

You leaned on the sink, feeling the cold starting to penetrate your body. A great tremor shook you, and it became increasingly difficult to stay on your feet. Your eyes filled with tears as you confronted the reality of what you were about to do, of the decision you'd made.

Since your boyfriend began not only achieving his dreams but making a name for himself, you thought you didn’t deserve him because you were heading in the opposite direction. Now that you’ve gotten pregnant by him, possibly because the birth control pills you were taking failed for some unknown reason, you felt like this even more.

Despite the love you still felt and possibly always will feel for Sebastian, since you took the pregnancy test with Hanna at one of the most secluded malls in Heppenheim, you knew that letting him know he was going to be a father was never part of your plans.

"Come on, Y/N…" you told yourself, still staring at your reflection. "This is for Seb. You're doing this for him and his career."

You took a deep breath a couple more times, feeling the knot in your throat choking you. You looked at the girl full of insecurities you were one more time. Her eyes reflected doubt and, above all, fear, and you sadly sensed that it will continue to be this way from now on.

Trying to control yourself, you slowly opened the bathroom door, as if wanting to torture yourself. Britta was sitting in one of the chairs, reviewing something in a notebook until you closed the door a bit harder than you meant to.

"Are you really okay?" she asked again, giving you an uncertain look. "I've been hearing you vomit for several weeks now. Don’t you think you should go to the doctor?"

The knot in your throat seemed to tighten even more. See a doctor… Of course you’d been to the doctor! Four weeks and, as of today, four days pregnant was the answer, but no one beyond your parents and your best friend could know.

"Yes, I’m fine," you replied quickly, trying to fake your answer as best as you could. "Don’t worry. It’s probably just a bit of stress," you added, praying she believed you. "I haven't had time to see a doctor, but I assure you, with all my heart, that everything is fine."

And that's why you're leaving the love of your life today.

Britta seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her lips remained slightly open, as if she wanted to say something. Her look gave you the feeling that she didn't quite believe what you were saying.

"Whatever you say, Y/N," she finally said, standing up from her seat. "But seriously, if you need to talk or anything, I’m here for you."

"I know."

"Well, seeing that you're as calm as a lake, we’d better hurry up," she told you. "The last free practice session is about to start, and Seb is probably worried why we haven’t come back yet."

You prepared to leave the room with her. You were more than sure to go with her, but as you were almost out the room, you realize it was now or never.

You stopped before going from the driver’s room to the garage, watching Britta hurry down the stairs, probably aware that you were running late even though there were still about forty-five minutes before the session started.

"Wait, Britta. Just a sec!"

You were convinced your shout from the top of the stairs was heard by more people than you’d like. You wished you could turn invisible as you saw some eyes on you, including Britta’s, which made it hard to speak, and not to mention the variety of emotions you were feeling inside you.

You needed to calm down and act a bit better, or everything you’d been mulling over will end up falling apart.

"I’d like to talk to Seb… alone," you finally said.

"Y/N Y/L/N," she said your name much more seriously now. "You’ve told me that everything is fine, but… are you sure it really is? Are you sure nothing’s wrong?"

No, everything is wrong, and yes, more things are happening than I’d like.

You knew you could trust Britta completely. You were sure that if you told her the news before you did to Seb, she wouldn’t say anything, at least not right away. You wanted to do it; in fact, you’d love to do it because she was like a second mother to you, but you knew you couldn't because, once you left, there’s a really high chance she might end up telling him everything in a moment of weakness.

"Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s nothing serious, don’t worry," you replied with a sigh, trying to console the PR woman and yourself. "I just need to talk to him about… well, a minor issue."

"Of course. Go get him, I’ll wait here. He’s probably talking to Rocky or Horner about who knows what. He hasn’t gone far, especially considering how eager he was to see you."

"Can you get him for me?" you let it out casually.

You ignored her last comment because now, your nerves were eating you alive. Britta seemed to notice your anxiety, so you were grateful she ignored it and acted as if nothing is wrong.

You sighed in relief when you saw her nod, and you couldn't stop thanking her out loud for what she just did for you.

"Lie down on the physio’s couch and try to rest a bit, you look a bit pale," she insisted. Reluctantly, and after repeating it a couple more times, you finally listened to her. "Seb will be here soon. You know he’ll drop everything when it comes to you."

And it was true. Once she left, you remained lying down, drawing small shapes on your stomach with your index finger. As you whispered things to what would supposedly be your child, a whirlwind of varied thoughts flooded your mind.

A small pressure settled in your chest as you became aware that the idea of breaking up with Sebastian was becoming a reality. You didn't want to face it and largely refused to, but you knew that for both of you, especially him, it was actually the best.

Hiding the truth from the guy you’d loved longer than you’d like to admit is exactly the opposite of what you should do, but because he was the most important person in your life, and you knew him almost as well as yourself, you knew he'd have time to play moms and dads in real life.

This year, the only thing he should focus on was winning his fourth Formula 1 World Championship, not learning how to change diapers or feed a baby.

Your thoughts vanished when the door opened abruptly, startling you. Seb appeared with his suit hanging at his waist, hair completely tousled, and a face revealing worry matching the situation you haven’t told him about yet.

"Sunshine! Britta told me you’re not well. What happened? Do you want to go to the doctor? I don’t care about missing the free practice: you’re the most important thing."

The German quickly took your cheeks in his hands. You hadn’t even sat up, and he was already trying to warm your face with his palms, moving it from side to side and examining you as if he was a doctor with the solution to your problems.

"I’m fine, love, relax," you said, breaking free from his grip.

"I know you better than I’d like, Y/N. You’re pale," he pointed out. "You rarely get pale. The last time I saw you like this was when the police chased us after they caught you doing an illegal concert in the school square."

Your anxiety grew more at his perception. You couldn't hide the lie you concocted with Hanna for much longer.

"Seb, really, I’m fine," you insisted, swallowing hard as you tried to find the right words.

He didn't seem to agree with your answer once again, and he didn't seem willing to let it go easily.

For a moment, you were tempted to tell him the truth, especially when you noticed his eyes fixed on you, not intending to look away until he found out what you really wanted to say… As if he wants to know that he was going to be a father next January if your gynecologist’s calculations and the latest technology were correct.

You mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. His concern overwhelmed you completely. When he made a move to hug you and you fell into his arms, you knew you couldn't keep dodging the truth.

"Seb…" you started to say, slowly pulling away from him, "the truth is that... well, there's something wrong."

He clenched his jaw and got very serious.

"Tell me, Y/N. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."

"I know, love. I want to tell you everything, but…" you began calmly, your voice breaking. "This is different, and it’s going to be a bit difficult."

"What do you mean by different and difficult? Y/N, what’s going on?"

Your hands fidgeted nervously as you tried to find the best way to cause him the least harm possible. You noticed that the German's nervous and worried tone had dissipated, and now it was anger that seemed to be consuming him.

"I want to tell you, but I don’t know how to do it without hurting you," you admitted in a whisper.

There it was, you had let it slip.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you decided to wait for Sebastian’s response. Anguish had taken hold of him, and you knew he was waiting for your words as much as you were waiting for his.

His behavior wasn’t helping you; on the contrary, the feeling of guilt was consuming you, as you had foreseen, but there was no turning back now.

It was impossible for you to even think coherently enough to say something that made sense.

You watched as your boyfriend’s gaze turned into pure pain, a pleading search for answers that you didn’t dare to give him.

"Seb…" you spoke again, struggling to maintain your composure and reaching for his hand at the same time. "I need you to listen to me, please."

"I just want you to tell me the truth, Y/N," he called you by your full name. That was the indicator that things weren’t going well and wouldn’t be again. "Whatever it is, I’ll be able to deal with it."

"I don’t want us to be together anymore," you declared. "I’m not in love with you anymore. I haven’t been for about a month or so."

The silence that flooded the room after your false confession was too uncomfortable. His eyes filled with tears; yours did too, but for a different reason than his.

He thought you had stopped loving him when, in fact, you loved him more than ever, especially now.

"Why are you telling me this? Why, Y/N?" he wanted to know. "I thought we were great… I really believed we were better than ever."

"I don’t know, Seb," you murmured between sobs, trying to hide your face so he wouldn’t see how truly affected you were. "There are… there are couples that stop loving each other, and that’s what I think has happened with me. With us."

"What can I do to make you fall in love with me again? I can’t lose you. I can’t lose the sunshine of my life, not when we promised each other a life together."

"You can’t do anything, Seb, and I’m really sorry," you falsely admitted with sadness, trying not to succumb to his desperate plea.

"Sometimes things stop being what they were in the beginning, and, well… ours is no longer what it used to be."

"Of course, it’s not what it used to be! Everything was getting better until you decided to drop this on me, Y/N!" Sebastian yelled at you.

"I was even going to ask you if you wanted us to get…"

"And that’s why I feel it’s better if we move on, but each on our own path!" you interrupted with another shout.

It’s not real, Y/N. Everything you’re saying is a lie.

You inhaled and exhaled more times than you would have liked, but it felt necessary. This charade to try to make Seb’s life a little better was not only costing you your relationship but also your mental health in the long run.

"Is there someone else, Y/N?"

Vettel's voice denoted anger. Rage consumed him at the possibility that there was an answer he didn’t want to hear. His fists, clenched tightly and turning his knuckles white, were proof of it.

"No, not exactly."

And once again, the camouflaged truth.

"What are you saying?" he spat at you, getting closer and closer, consumed by anguish.

"I mean not exactly, but… yes. There is someone else, Seb," you admitted.

The shouts, full of reproaches, insults, and slurs, flooded the room.

You tried to turn a deaf ear. You thought this was all part of a performance and tried to convince yourself that in the future, everything would be fine when you knew it would be the opposite.

"How could you do this to me, Y/N?! How could you cheat on me after almost seven fucking years together?!" Sebastian shouted, taking out his anger on a vase on his desk, throwing it to the ground, spilling the water and the flowers he had given you just a day ago.

"We’ve been through so many things together. We’ve grown up together and fulfilled our dreams together, and now you’re leaving me for some guy you must have slept with on a whim?!"

"Do you think this is easy for me, Sebastian?" you replied, your words true for once. "Stop lying, okay? The only person who has fulfilled their dreams here is you," you said, showing your disagreement on that topic that you knew hurt you and that he had mentioned to hurt you. "While you’ve been living your life as a driver and being the center of attention, I’ve kept working in the same disgusting bar full of creepy old men I’ve been working at since I finished high school," you shouted, furious. You knew this kind of stress wasn’t good for the baby, but right now you didn’t care. "I’ve been saving as much as I could to build a prosperous future even though my salary was a pittance, composing songs and singing them with the hope that they’ll reach someone someday and not be forgotten."

"I’ve told you a million times that you don’t need to work in that fucking bar full of drunk old men who fuck you with their eyes to have a good life," he protested, now much calmer. "With what they pay me we can live comfortably. It's more than enough for both of us."

"I know," you responded calmly, though you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, "but I also know that I can achieve things on my own without anyone’s help."

The blonde let out an ironic laugh. Immediately, he crossed his arms, lifted his head, and looked at you.

"You’ve always been too stubborn, Y/N. Now I see what your future expectations are. After all, I understand: if you never got into the Berlin Art Academy on your own, and you’re still working at the same place after so long…"

You stood still, not knowing what to say or do because you knew exactly what he meant with every word that came out of his mouth. It felt like your feet were cemented to the ground; his words continuously hitting you, wanting to hurt you more and more.

"How dare you to say that to me?"

If you were already shaken and almost broken after this whole conversation, now you were completely sunk. Seeing your reaction, tears streaming down your cheeks non-stop, he seemed to regret it.

Quickly, he approached you, opening his arms intending for you to bury yourself in them. You, as stubborn as he said you were, refused not only the hug but any physical and non-physical contact he wanted to have with you.

"Y/N, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to say that," yes, that was clear, but it had already been said, and the damage was done. "I was wrong. Please forgive me."

No matter how much he kept talking, trying to apologize and make amends, there was nothing else to do.

Without saying anything else, you began to gather all your belongings from the driver’s room of who could now be considered your ex-boyfriend. You didn’t want to do it; you didn’t want to start the zero-contact phase with the boy you had loved since you were ten years old, the one who had loved you like no one ever had before and like no one ever would.

You were saying goodbye to the father of your child to venture into raising her alone so he could pursue his dream in peace and achieve all the successes he so longed for.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“Packing. I’m leaving.”

Your eyes were fixed on the floor, your hands fumbling with the few belongings left to pack in the small backpack you usually took to the paddock. Now, you would have to return to your hotel room and quickly pack everything into the suitcase, rush to the airport, and pray you didn’t miss the flight.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” the blonde frowned, incredulous. “It’s Friday, Y/N, we have the whole weekend ahead of us.”

“Well, from now on, you’ll have all the weekends to yourself,” you shook your head, unable to bear his comments trying to make you stay. “From now on, you won’t have me here on weekends, nor in your life. I’m leaving your life, and I’m not coming back,” you repeated, emphasizing the finality of your words.

Vettel was speechless at your declaration. He kept shaking his head, approaching you, trying to take your belongings, but you stopped him.

No matter how much you wanted to, you weren’t going to stay.

“What do you mean by ‘leaving my life and not coming back’?”

“It means I’m going back to Heppenheim, Sebastian,” you turned to him, trying to maintain composure. “I’m going back, you’ll also end up going back even though we live… you live in Switzerland,” you immediately corrected yourself, “but I hope we never see each other again.”

The firmness behind your words scared you. Everything was a lie that, as the conversation progressed, had grown until you doubted what was real and what wasn’t.

“I really hope you achieve everything you are working hard for,” you continued, insisting to yourself not to break down right there. “I hope you win the championship this year and get the four consecutive ones you’ve wanted for. You, more than anyone, deserve all of it, and I know you’re capable of that and much more.”

You said nothing more because you had stopped being strong. You left, without looking back, the room where you had spent much more time than imaginable, and one of the many places that made up the story starring Sebastian Vettel and you.

You carefully descended the stairs. You walked with a false sense of security through the RedBull garage, dodging any questions about why you were crying, where you were going, and if you had argued with the team’s golden boy, including the endless questions from Britta Roeske that you were trying to ignore at all costs.

You felt curious eyes following you wherever you went, but you didn’t care in the slightest. It was all done.

Now, it was just you and the little pea, or whatever size the baby was.

“Y/N, wait!”

Sebastian’s desperate shouts echoed behind you, getting closer.

You stopped dead, clutching the only strap of the backpack hanging over your shoulder. You slowly turned toward the direction the voices seemed to be coming from and saw the driver running to you, almost choking, as he wiped tears from his cheeks and even those still falling from his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His voice was choked, and his hands acted on their own. Still, it didn’t stop him from taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, where you tasted each other’s tears as you had done many times in your relationship. Where you silently said millions of I love yous that only you and he knew perfectly.

“Please, don’t go, sunshine,” the German expressed. “Whatever it is, we can work on it, but please, don’t let us end.”

“I love you too, Seb, but there’s someone else.”

You finally confessed… not in the most ideal way, but in the right one, especially considering what your goal was after all this trail of lies.

“There’s a new person in my life, and I’m afraid to say that no matter how much I love you, I love them more than I love you, and I always will,” you continued, knowing that every word you were saying about your baby was true. “I love you, Sebastian Vettel, and I’ll never stop loving you, but that person is my main priority right now.”

“Have you been unfaithful?”

Sometimes silence is worth more than a thousand words. In this case, it was the exact opposite.

You stood in front of him for a few seconds, debating internally whether to answer or leave as calmly as possible, without attracting more attention than you already had. You decided on the latter because you couldn’t speak, and the tears wouldn’t let you see clearly; not to mention your judgment was so clouded that you couldn’t think clearly about the next step to end this nightmare.

You finally directed one last look at Seb; whispered that you loved him and always would, even though it was over between you.

All it took was for you to lower your head, turn around, and continue walking, fighting not to look back, to realize that you had made the biggest mistake of your life and would never, for anything in the world, be able to forgive yourself.

And you knew perfectly well that Seb wouldn’t either.

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sukirichi · 4 months ago

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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 015 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. modern royal au. angst. physical violence (not to the reader.) manipulation. lying. angst. hurt and a little bit of comfort ig??

notes. feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 10.4k

series masterlist

[ FIFTEEN ] scattered ‘cross my family line, i’m so good at telling lies – that came from my mother’s side, told a million to survive. . . i can’t forget, i can’t forgive you. ‘cause now i’m scared that everyone i love will leave me

“This was a mistake. We should get divorced.”

The tranquil song of the sea was deceptive. A vast expanse of silver under the soft glow of the full moon caressed Rintaro’s face, his handsome face heartbreakingly heartbroken. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a serene, almost ethereal light upon the two of you. On the distant coast, a lighthouse flickered, its beam briefly piercing the darkness before vanishing. The momentary light was enough to let you see – the truth, the split-second show of vulnerability within his eyes before it left only the memory of its glow.

Rintaro stood in front of you, at an arm’s length away but your heart worlds apart. The long line of spray marked where the sea met the land, its boundary evident. There, where the moon’s loght turned the sand into a luminous carpet beneath your feet, the waves lulled your racing hearts into quiet murmurs swallowed by the breeze.

You listened to his words – words that carried the weight of an ending unforeseen. Disbelief clouded your mind. You refused to accept what you just heard. Turning your head the other way, you bit down on your lip, hard enough you tasted the coppery tang of blood.

The rhythm of the sea was like the lilt of your heartbeat, steady yet trembling. It began, ceased, and began again, each cycle mirroring this endless round of circles you and Rintaro ran in – to loving, to hurting, to forgiving. Was this how ended? In a poorly-timed farewell?

You always knew this moment would come. Someone would have had to say goodbye. You just never thought the words would come from his mouth.

Your feet rooted deep in the sand, you listened to the melancholy refrain of waves crashing against each other. The moonlight reflected in the water, a silver path stretching into the unknown. You stood there, letting the sea speak the emotions too deep to be said out loud.

And what a moment it was – with the beauty of the night, the serene majesty of the sea, and bittersweet flicker of candles behind you.

It would’ve been easier if the sea held your sadness, with the moon as your witness in your quiet despair, the cliffs holding onto their stone each memory you knew you’d keep for many years to come. The night air, sweet and cool, carried away and brought with the wind your unshed tears.

This was a mistake. We should get divorced.

Rintaro’s words echoed in your mind, a cruel reminder that some stories, no matter how beautiful or tragic, all had its end.

“What did you say?” you licked your lips, forcing a smile despite the wobbliness of your knees. It couldn’t be, right? The night was going well. Fate couldn’t be so cruel – he’d just begun to love you. “I must have heard you wrong.”

Your husband turned away from you, his grip on the bouquet tightening. You watched as the flowers crushed between its force, its beauty drained with one just hand.

“You didn’t. I meant what I said – we should end this.”

“Why?”

His head snapped your way. “What do you mean, why?” he hissed, the bouquet slammed on the ground as he gestured to the air. His eyes were blown wide, frantic and desperate. “Look around you. Don’t you realize none of this feels right? Let’s drop the act, Princess. Neither of us truly want each other, and don’t tell me I’m wrong when I see the way you look at me.”

You reeled back, unknowingly clutching at your chest. “And how do I look at you?”

“Like you’re thinking of ways to get rid of me,” he spat out with a laugh, “Like-like you’re looking for the man who courted you two years ago, the one you truly wanted to marry. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, because you’re not going to find him. He never existed in the first place. Whatever it is you’re looking for, you won’t find it in me,” his eyes blazed with fury, but then, as if the fire within him had been doused, his hands fell limply at his sides. “But you may find him in someone else.”

Rintaro’s gaze dropped to the floor. Sorrow filled his eyes, his expression softened before he spun on his heel. Turning away, your husband stepped forward.

“Take one more step–” you threatened him, hands balled into fists. “–and I will make you regret it.”

“Do your worst,” came his tired reply, his shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t care less.”

His steps were quick, as if he couldn’t waste any more time in getting away from you. It made blood boil within your veins. Before you could notice, you’d already crossed the distance in one breath, furiously grabbing him by the elbow and spinning him to face you. You were certain you look crazed – your face flushed, your cheeks damp with tears rolling down. He must’ve seen it too, his face falling at the sight of you.

“No! You think you can walk away from me? You think you can do all this–” you gestured to the beach around you, finding it harder to breathe with each word you spoke. “–buy me a house, tell me you envisioned a future with me, made love to me, and even prepared this dinner–”

“I didn’t do it for you. It was Kiyoomi who came up with this idea because he wanted to make you happy.”

Shaking your head, you shoved at his chest. “He wouldn’t do that. Kiyoomi wouldn’t be so cruel!”

“Oh, but I am for going along with it?” he snapped, closing the distance until his wrath enveloped you. “Get out of your head. Just because I did all those things for you, doesn’t mean they meant something. Are you forgetting I spent two years of my life trying to win you over, and I never once felt something for you other than tolerance?” When your face fell, triumph washed over his features. “That’s right. You remember now, don’t you? She’s the one I want. Everything I do is for her. Don’t forget your place.”

“My place? I am your wife. It’s my ring that you have on your finger. What place should I be forgetting? All of this is for me, you did this for me–”

“Oh, wake the fuck up, Y/N!” he bellowed, grabbing at his hair before he turned to glare at you. “I’m so tired of you going around acting like everything I do meant something. Has it never crossed your mind I could have just been bored? It didn’t, did it? Because you’re honestly foolish enough to let your guard down and believe that I wanted you!”

“Then why do all this if you didn’t?” you retorted, “You could become King as long as you married me and I gave you a son. You didn’t have to buy me a house, o-or act like you cared behind the cameras–”

“Well, are you? Are you with child?”

“No, but why does–”

“Then you have no hold over me. Marriage means nothing. This ring? This stupid fucking thing?” You glanced at the gold band at his finger, the one you watched roll over the floor on that day you gave it back to him. Rintaro hadn’t taken it off since, but now he looked at with resentment – like it suffocated him, choked him. “It means nothing. You cannot make me King if you don’t give me a child. And as long as you’re walking around without a baby in your belly, then you mean nothing to me. You have no purpose in my life.”

“So that’s what this is, then? Because she’s pregnant and I’m not?”

Rintaro’s face morphed into despair for a fleeting moment, so quick you questioned if you saw it at all. But almost as quickly, Rintaro’s posture straightened, his eyes hardening with steely resolve. Your breath caught in your throat – your suspicions confirmed.

So it was true. He knew.

And all of this – this house, that mocking conversation of building a family with you – it had been nothing but a cruel joke.

A strangled gasp escaped your lips. Stumbling back, your hands instinctively clutched at your chest as if desperately holding together the pieces of your shattered heart. The attempt was all for naught. The weight of betrayal crashed over you like a thundering wave. Each thought was a daggered stabbed to your soul as the pieces fit together – your husband, the one you loved, and his true love, now carrying his child.

Tears welled up, blurring your vision. You tried to hold them back, refusing to let him have the satisfaction that he’d succeeded in hurting you.

And it had been so easy, wasn’t it? He knew you so well, knew you like the back of his hand, that it came without too much effort that it was so easy to have you wrapped around his finger. One kiss, one tender touch, one proclamation of his so-called affections, and you would’ve broken your back bending to his will. He knew. He knew how easy it would be to win you over, and time and time again, you fell for it like the fool you were.

Everything burned. The pain was too raw, too overwhelming.

“You are cruel, Suna Rintaro. I regret the day I danced with you,” you gritted your teeth, digging your nails into your palm. Hard. “Perhaps you are right. We should get divorced.”

Rintaro sighed. “It’s for the best, even if it’s not what you think.”

“Because you can finally be with her, right? Your dream life is already coming true. You’re going to be a father, you’re going to spend a future with the one you love, and I’m hopelessly in love with you enough that I’ll just let it happen,” you smiled for him, clapping your hands together slowly and mockingly. “Congratulations. It’s everything you wanted. Things are finally going accordingly to plan. Should we open a wine to celebrate?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Stop acting like a child. You knew what you were getting into when you caught us together and still proceeded with the wedding.”

“You still blame me for that after everything I did for you?”

The silence hung in the air. Somehow, his lack of response already spoke a thousand words.

Unable to help yourself, you glanced at the beach house behind Rintaro. It stood proudly against the backdrop of the setting sun, its white walls glowing warmly in the fading light.

The memories came flooding all at once – the laughter you shared, the stolen kisses when he thought no one was looking, the whispered promises of a life you’d never life. You could almost see them dancing in front of you, like ghosts of the past, lingering in the shadows of the porch and taunting you with the fact it had been too good to be true. So many dreams built, so many dreams shattered.

Your heart ached in ways it shattered you bone-deep. It echoed from your chest and reverberated down to your feet as you recalled the nights you spent wrapped in his arms. His hands on your cheeks, a small smile on his face – when he still looked at you like he loved you and meant it.

But now? Now, that love felt like a cruel illusion – a beautiful dream turned into a living nightmare. The betrayal cut deep, deep enough it left behind the harsh hand prints on your soul. The wounds stinging hard that it might never heal. You forced yourself to tear your gaze away from it – from the swing on the porch swaying gently on the evening breeze, the window that once framed your silhouettes when you welcomed the sunrise together. Each detail was a stab to your already broken heart.

A stray tear fell on your cheek. Brushing it away, hands trembling, you took a deep breath – forcing the salty air to fill your lungs. “Was… was any of it real?”

Turning away from the house was the hardest part. Each step felt heavy, as if the weight of your memories were trying to pull you back. You cast one last, longing glance over your shoulder, your heart silently breaking anew.

Deep down, you already knew his answer. Still, it did not soften the blow when the words left his lips. It didn’t hurt any less when regret crossed his features, like somehow; a part of him wished it had been. “No. None of it was.”

“Okay,” you resigned, your body turned away from him, so he wouldn’t have to see be so pathetic anymore. When you finally spoke again, your voice came out as a breathy whisper. “You should go.”

You heard a slight shuffling behind you, followed by his mumbled words. “I never wanted to stay, anyway.”

When Rintaro walked away from you, each step he took was daunting, final. You didn’t know what hurt you more – the fact he never looked back, or the fact he never hesitated. But there was one thing that was made crystal clear to you now: it was never going to be you. How deeply unfair it was, that a man could say things he did not mean, do things he did not want to. How he could marry you and buy a house, and then turn you away at the next moment.

Love truly was a dangerous thing. It made you break down your walls, hopelessly and blindly handing your heart in the hands of someone, all while silently hoping they wouldn’t break it. And when it did, who would pick up the fallen pieces? Who would gather the shattered shards of your soul as it spilled like blood through his fingertips?

You didn’t have an answer for any of these.

Knees buckling, you fell into the sand, your palms sinking on it with its weight. You cried your heart out – the skies hearing your anguish as it echoed in the dead of the night. You screamed, begged, and called out for a God who never listened. The betrayal left a bitter taste on your tongue, a relentless ache that gnawed at your insides until it felt like nothing was left. As if you’d been hollowed out, bled out to dry, and discarded to the side.

You laid there for who knew how long. The flames of the candle had gone out, the food forgotten and cold. Sand had made its way into your joints and your hair. Your cheek felt crusty and hard from the dried tears. You cried and cried until there were no more tears left – watching from the horizon as the skies deepened into a darker shade.

Just then, a jacket fell on your bare shoulders. Stiffening, you raised your head from where you rested it on your drawn knees – blearily blinking at the figure before you. The man stood tall even with his legs bent, the faintest hint of spice mixing with the breeze.

Behind you, the Second Prince stood, his face devoid of any emotion. Yet, his eyes said it all. You are briefly shocked by how much you saw of yourself within him at that moment. The longing, the sadness – Kiyoomi wore his grief proudly. At the sight of you, his face softened. He offered his hands, one you took with no hesitance, and allowed him to pull you up to your feet. You two stood like that for a few minutes – unspeaking, and just staring at each other.

Kiyoomi was the first to look away.

“You’re cold. You shouldn’t stay out here,” tightening his jacket around you, the Prince suddenly pulled you in for an embrace. It happened too fast, faster than you could react. Before you knew it, your face was pressed against his chest, his heartbeat – strong and mighty – the only sound audible aside from the howling breeze. And you sunk into his hold as your tears stained his shirt, realizing a little too late how much you needed this – to be held so tightly like he feared letting you, like he could squeeze you hard enough and it would hopefully – eventually – piece back together the heart his brother had broken.

“Shhh. I got you, Princess. I’ll always be here for you.”

You’ve gone past the point of believing such flowery words. But when it came from Kiyoomi, you never doubted he’d keep the promises he’d made.

The once-vibrant beach house, filled with laughter and endless conversations, now stood in silence. Its walls held the unspoken truth that forever was not going to last. The gentle breeze that had always carried a promise of endless days spent in joy now whispered farewells through the rustling palms.

Rintaro had begun his farewells. Now, it was your turn to leave everything behind.

The Princes and their companions moved with quiet efficiency. Ever since that dreadful night, things hadn’t been the same anymore. No one spoke about what happened, but it didn’t take a fool to understand that romantic dinners weren’t supposed to end with you and Rintaro returning to the house hours apart – both miserable and mum. One quick look at you two, and the Princes began packing up.

Everyone knew their time had run up.

Casting a final, longing glance at the house, you breathed in the salty breeze one last time. The memories clung to you, each step you took feeling like a betrayal to the woman you could’ve been – the wife he could’ve had, and the mother you would’ve been. With a heavy heart, you watched as everyone loaded their luggage back to their respective vehicles, each one of them driving off. Their movements – along with yours – had been mechanical, as if the finality of their departure had numbed everyone to their core.

You looked out the window. The sun had began to greet the world with its morning kiss. The sea, once shimmering and glistening with spark-like waves, now seemed to mourn with you. The beach, scattered with the footprints of a happier time you’d said goodbye to, would soon be swept clean by the tides.

Any traces of the memories you made would be wiped clean by the world itself. If only it could give you a new beginning, too.

The journey back to the palace was somber. The rolling hills and distant forests passed by in a blur of muted colors – the world passed you by, in both the literal and metaphorical sense. If anything, the ride back felt like walking into your own death. A death march of duty and purpose. Speaking of duty… your hands cradled your belly. You weren’t pregnant, nor were you experiencing any symptoms. Rintaro knew this, too, otherwise he wouldn’t have thrown it in your face that you were merely nothing but a breeding mare for him – and a failed one, at that.

The palace loomed ahead, its grand spires and imposing walls reminding you of your reality.

Back at the beach house, your emotions were valid. There, you were a brokenhearted person who longed for true love. Here, though? None of that mattered. The Palace was not a place for emotions. It was a pillar, the foundation of what the Crown held – power, victory, wealth, control. Here, you were a Princess, and a Princess should always hold her head high.

You couldn’t do it. Bile rose up your throat each time you pictured yourself walking down its grand hallways, the gold shimmering and blinding you. Just the mere thought of the Queen studying you with her observant gaze made you squeamish.

You turned to Rintaro. “Can we please head to my parents instead?”

He looked at you like you’d grown two heads. The Palace was already in view. Still, his gaze darted at you, and back at the Palace, as if seriously considering it. Then, he pinched the bridge of his nose and slumped against his seat. “If you are doing this as an act of revenge–”

“I’m not. My parents truly did want to see us.”

Rintaro contemplated. Absentmindedly, he spun the ring on his finger, gazing down at it with an unreadable expression. His voice was light, and whisper-like as he said, “You cannot tell them about the affair.”

You pursed your lips. You never planned on doing so in the first place. Crossing your arms against your chest, you huffed. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. I never planned on ruining your perfect image.”

Rintaro didn’t bother with responding. Instead, he asked the driver to head back to the Yuzuru Estate, and quickly informed Her Majesty on the detour. It didn’t take long enough before you were surrounded by the familiar grove of trees that led to your place. The sound of wheels on cobblestone mingled with the soft murmur of the midday breeze. Outside, the manicured gardens and stately mansions blurred into a comforting embrace, their elegant silhouettes nostalgic. You couldn’t help but feel the need to reach out, to run your fingertips over the freshly mowed grass, or admire the shapely bushes designed to perfection.

You missed your home very much – one of the few places you felt solace in before your life turned upside down.

Pulling up into the driveway, your butler immediately opened the doors for you. There was a round of warm welcomes and joyful smiles. You’d missed them, too – all the loyal staff who took turns watching over you, even when they remained hesitant to properly acquaint themselves. Nevertheless, it was home. You greedily breathed the fresh air in, letting it fill up your lungs as you breathed out the darkness pooling at your chest.

The double doors opened, and the two of you were ushered in. A few minutes later, your mother came rushing past – a shawl drawled at the curves of her arms. A smile instantaneously, rising up from your seat to meet her halfway.

“My daughter, oh, how I missed you!” she laughed, the sound of it light and coloring up the room. Pulling back from the embrace, she cupped your face with her gloved hands – all her previous smiles slowly wavering. “My goodness, have you been eating well? Sleeping well? You look… different.”

You winced. It would be hard to hide things from her, but you had to try.

Leaning into her palm, you gave her the biggest smile you could muster – teeth flashed and all. “I’m okay, Mother. The Palace can just get a little exhausting sometimes.”

“Does your husband not help you with your duties?”

It was your father who spoke this time. He must’ve come straight from trimming the bushes; a sunhat covered his head, and he wore gardening gloves that were stained with grass and a miniscule of dirt. You didn’t miss the way his gaze leered at your husband. Rintaro was stiff behind you, having stood up as well as soon as your mother entered. “He does most of them, so I believe he is more tired than I am,” you supplied, pointedly ignoring Rintaro’s relieved sigh. Clapping your hands together, you walked towards your father with open arms. “But let’s not discuss any of that – how is everyone doing? I feel like it’s been forever since I last stepped in here.”

“Ah, no,” your father complained as he held you at an arm’s length away, “My clothes are soiled, and you are pristine. Do not bother yourself with getting dirtied.”

You pouted; your mother giggling behind you.

Being back at home was an instant medication. You hadn’t been here in months, yet the effect was evident – your shoulders felt lighter, your smile more natural. You’d stopped trying to think of Iris, too, yet you remained warily aware of your husband. And it was clear Rintaro was unsure of himself. He lingered longer on the doorways, his interactions with your parents more formal than it had been compared to the first time he called upon you. You couldn’t blame him for his discomfort – the question of his affair lingered on the air.

It was only a matter of time before someone addressed it.

A few hours later, with your stomachs filled with warm, homemade meals, you all moved out towards the back gardens. The garden stretched out in a lush expanse beneath the golden glow of the setting sun, each corner rich with the memories of your precious childhood.

Winding stone paths meandered through vibrant displays of blooming flowers – roses in shades of crimson and blush, peonies in soft pastels, and clusters of fragrant lavender. Elegant statues and an ornate fountain stood in the middle of it, their waters cascading beautifully. Majestic oak trees, their branches spreading wide in a serene embrace, provided cool, dappled shade – your signature reading spot from your teenage years.

You’d made many memories here; time spent with your father chasing you and your mother around as your gurgled giggles echoed through the air. It was also where your father taught you to use weapons (much to your mother’s distaste), and eventually, even a date spot when Rintaro wanted a reprieve from the public eye.

Rintaro and your father went ahead. Your father claimed he hadn’t properly worked out in a while, and that perhaps your husband could help him warm up. Beside you, you and your mother watched as the two men rolled their sleeves up to practice sparring. It’s a silly thing, but one you knew Rintaro enjoyed. He often spent time with your father like this when he was still courting you. They toyed with weapons, hunted birds, and sparred with one another. It was your father’s way of gauging Rintaro’s strength at first. Now, they simply did it as a way of bonding.

You smiled despite yourself.

You could still remember those times vividly, where warmth crept up your neck upon the knowledge your parents liked this boy you adored. You appreciated all his efforts, never once backing down from an absurd request from your mother, or another challenge from your father. Rintaro had proven to them, without fail, that he was dedicated in winning your heart.

He’d succeeded. It would be impossible if he didn’t.

He came every day, always at seven in the morning, with a bouquet of flowers that led you into reserving a room just to turn it into an indoor garden. He’d brought flowers for your mother, too, and you knew the moment she shed a tear at his sweetness, that he’d also won their hearts. The sweet ‘yes’ he’d been working hard finally came a year during the courtship. It was on that memorable night he’d driven you out for dinner – no drivers, no servants, no anything. Just you and I, he’d said with a smile, placing a kiss upon your knuckles.

It was the first night you’d kissed him, and the first night you stayed up awake as you lost the battle of trying to calm your racing heart.

If you’d known that early that his heart had already been occupied… No.

Even if you knew, even after you knew, it was too late. You were doomed from the moment he’d picked you out from the crowd. You’d resigned yourself to your fate when the throng of people parted for him as he made his way to you, wearing the most dazzling, lazy smile befitting for a Crown Prince.

You didn’t stand a chance.

You might’ve fallen in love the moment you stepped on his toes, and all he did was laugh.

“My dear,” your mother’s silken voice pulled you out of your trance. Smiling at her, you turned her way, silently sipping on the tea the servants had prepared. Before you, your mother twitched, playing with her fingers splayed on her lap. “I don’t mean to suddenly spring this up on you, but surely you’ll understand a mother’s curiosity and concern. So, tell me. Is it real? Is it true the Crown Prince is cheating on you?”

Your body froze. You’d seen this coming – known she would’ve asked one way or another.

“No, Mother,” you shook your head, dropping your gaze onto your lap in the hopes she wouldn’t see right through you. “His Highness would never. That article was already proven to be a hoax.”

“I see…”

You shared an uneasy silence. Seated across from each other, you stirred your tea absentmindedly, gaze drifting over the manicured hedges that framed the secluded nook. Your mother, poised and composed, sipper her tea with deliberate slowness. You could tell without looking at her that her inquisitive gaze searched for answers on your face. For signs of the truth you struggled to conceal with each passing minute.

The gentle clinking of porcelain and the soft rustling of leaves did little to alleviate the tension, the silence between you two growing heavier with each unspoken word.

Finally, your mother set her cup down and sighed. “I still remember the day the Crown Prince came to call on you,” she began, her words delicate and careful. Her gaze flitted to the two men before you, still elbow-deep in their sparring. “Your father and I didn’t want to believe it at first. You were always beautiful, of course, but you were such a shy, little thing. We worried you might grow old without striking a conversation with any man, but a Prince? A Crown Prince, no less? We were over the moon,” she shook her head at the memory, a small smile playing on her lips. “But then your father and I both agreed you didn’t deserve any lesser man. There couldn’t have been anyone else for you. The Crown Prince was perfect.”

He was, you wanted to agree, he used to be.

“I remember that day, too,” you mused, the image of the Prince with his slicked-back hair and three piece suit flashing in your mind.

You’d expected he would look out of your place in the Estate, whatnot with the royal crest on his chest, yet he never looked more fitting – surrounded by your family portraits and delicately gazing at your childhood photos.

“He was especially handsome – I’d say even more so than when he showed up for the Palace’s royal events.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. It was clear he wanted to impress us, and you, especially,” teased your mother with a slight poke of her elbow, her face softening. “I remember it all, my dear. How he would always share with us his plans for the dates he’d take you on, how he always took you home at the exact time he promised he would. He was a perfect son, the perfect addition to our small family. And I could never, ever forget how you changed when you met him.”

“I changed?” your brows furrowed, before you shrugged in agreement. “I suppose I have. Being with someone like him… I had to be conscious and aware of everything I did. Do you remember that, Mother? When I begged you to come shopping for clothes for me when you knew I never was interested in any of it?”

Your mother giggled behind her hands.

“I was so happy that day when you asked me to come with you! I thought my sweet girl was finally growing into a mature woman. But that wasn’t the change I was talking about,” she continued, sliding her chair closer to yours. Her palm landed on top of your knee, and she slowly caressed there – just like how she did when you first scraped your knees. And how healing it was, a mother’s tender touch on top of your wounds. It made you want to rip your heart out and shove it between her fingers, to silently beg her to make it all okay.

“…When you met him, you became radiant. In love. You smiled more often, and you opened up a whole new world that the Prince showed you. There wasn’t a day you didn’t speak fondly of him. And you had that look on your face, sweetheart–” she ran a finger down the side of your face, her eyes glistening with tears. You couldn’t understand why she looked so broken. “–it was in your eyes. Everyone could tell how much you loved the Prince.”

You swallowed, the smiles you wore becoming more and more faded. “Mother, I still love him.”

“I know, sweetheart, I can tell,” she cooed. Prying the cup from your hands, she immediately held your hands in hers, her warmth soothing as it seeped through her gloves. “But I also know you’re not happy anymore.”

Your resolve began to crumble.

“Mother…”

Your eyes began to glisten with unshed tears that you struggled to keep at bay. Despite your best effort, the façade of composure slipped. A single tear escaped, trailing a path down your cheek – and just like that – a dam had opened. The door holding your secrets unlocked. It was hard – painfully so – to pretend everything was okay when it was not. You felt like a little child again. A little girl craving her mother’s soothing embrace, and you couldn’t help it – you launched yourself into her arms, burying your face in the crook of her shoulder as your body shook with each sob.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother patted your back. Judging by the way her body quivered under you, she’d been crying, too. “It’s okay, I promise. Please, tell me what’s wrong. I can’t handle seeing you like this.”

“Mother, it’s…” you bit at your lip, trying to muffle the whimpers that passed your lips. “I’m sorry, it’s true. I didn’t want to lie, or have to hide it from you, but Rintaro loves you both a lot and I was afraid you’d hate him–”

“Oh! Oh, my poor baby. Never apologize, okay? It wasn’t your fault.”

You clutched her tight, her dress balled into your fists. A part of you told you that you should feel pathetic, that your actions weren’t Princess-like. That Her Majesty would frown at the sight of you and tell you to act your age. But you couldn’t muster the strength, not when your mother’s embrace was the only thing keeping you together – the only thing that told you it was safe enough to fall apart. And so you cried, your tears soaking her dress and the fabric wrinkling under your grip.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your mother’s sniffles was the last thing you heard before the sound of a fist connecting with skin resounded in the area. Pulling back, you gasped at what you saw.

Rintaro was lying on the ground, your father on top of him. Your father grasped Rintaro by the collar, delivering blow by blow to his face until blood spattered to the grass. Somehow, you managed to scream. The sound was ear-splitting as your heels hit the ground, clutching the ends of your dress as you ran for him. Rintaro wasn’t putting up a fight – his arms limp by his side, his head swaying with each merciless punch on his face.

“Stop!”

“You cheating bastard,” your father glowered, rearing his arm back for one final blow. “How could you do that to my daughter?”

“Father! Please, stop!”

The commotion caused servants to pour from every corner. The guards arrived, pulling your father back by the elbow as he struggled to free from their restraints. Meanwhile, your mother stood beside him – crying and dabbing her handkerchief at his blood knuckles. And you? You fell on the ground, uncaring that the grass had stained your dress, and loomed over your husband. “Rin,” you called out. A low groan was all you received, but it was enough. You breathed out a sigh of relief, immediately calling for the servants to bring some ice and towels.

“Get out of here! You aren’t welcome here anymore!” your father kept kicking and screaming, the sounds of your mother’s pleas falling on deaf ears. “I swear by the Gods your title won’t keep you safe, boy, you will regret it–”

“Get up,” hooking your arm around Rintaro’s elbow, you grunted at his weight. “Rin. Come on. Let’s go.”

Still dazed from being beaten, Rintaro’s legs wobbled underneath him. He groaned, finally wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you limped back to the house. Your father was still a screaming mess, but you knew your mother would calm him down eventually. For now, you needed to tend to his cuts.

You brought Rintaro up to your room. A servant had left an ice pack and some towels there already. Making Rintaro get rid of his bloodied shirt, he changed into one of your father’s – his wince displeased yet left with no choice. Once he’d changed into something clean, he sat at the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped and his handsome face bloodied and bruised.

The air was thick with uneasiness in the dimly lit confines of your room.

The soft glow of your candlelight flickered across the ornate furnishings and Rintaro’s wounds. You worked quietly before him, finding there was no need to speak. His face, usually lacking in interest and graced with slow, lackadaisical smiles, was marred by a collection of bruises and cuts.

Your hand trembled slightly as you carefully dabbed a cloth soaked in cool water against a swollen cheek. The Crown Prince, despite his physical pain, looked even more vulnerable under the soft lights – his usual demeanor replaced by quiet resignation.

With delicate movements, you applied salves, ensuring your touch remained tender and soothing. It wouldn’t erase the hurt from his body, but maybe your care would make it ache less. Each gentle stroke of your fingers served as a silent apology for the pain he endured. And the room, filled with the faint scent of healing balms and the soft rustle of fabric, suddenly felt all too intimate.

The silence between you was heavy, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of the bandages and the soft sighs coming from him. As you finished tending to his wounds, your eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like he was that young man from two years ago – fresh-faced, and red-cheeked upon entering a maiden’s room for the first time. He’d been so nervous back then, his hands clammy and drenched with sweat. In reality, that man was just a fragment of who he truly was now – your poor, bruised husband who winced at every tender, caring touch. As if your love wounded him, and cut him in ways he couldn’t heal from.

As if he just waited for that finishing blow to come from you instead, to be his final damnation.

But it never came.

In that fragile moment, Rintaro closed his eyes, leaning into the caress of your palm as it hovered beside his face. This gesture you remembered – of him accidentally cutting his palm open with a letter opener years ago, and when you’d wrapped bandages around his wound. He did the same thing and leaned into your touch, only to kiss the insides of your wrist. He’d looked up at you from under his lashes, his lips full and ready to be kissed. And kiss him you did, because then he’d been yours, and you’d been his.

You didn’t pull away then. You couldn’t pull away now.

Using your thumb to stroke his swollen cheek, you sighed, the sound tired and heavy. “Did you tell my father? Is that why he beat you up?”

“No. We barely spoke during the spar,” he informed, tongue darting out to lick the dried blood off his lips. “But he kept looking over at you and your mother. I reckon he was just waiting for you to reveal the truth eventually,” just then, Rintaro chuckled, wincing when the motion made his cuts split further apart. His smile remained, however, and you drunk his features in – the way he tipped his head to the side, his eyes hooded, with just the barest hint of a playful smile. “You were never a good liar, you know that?”

“Is that so?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “On our second date, you told me you didn’t want to watch the movies because you were worried people might crowd us. But it was written all over your face how much you wanted to.”

That, you remembered, as well. You found it impossible how a Prince – a Crown Prince – could simply saunter to the theaters like he was any regular man. He was right; you did want to. You’d never been to the theaters since it was always crowded, and you never did well in the dark. But you soon learned the dark wasn’t so scary when he had his arms wrapped around you. If anything, it felt elating – having the Prince play with your fingers, his gaze never really focusing on the movie.

Rintaro’s jaw clenched, more so in thought. “You always kept things to yourself, always did things for me even when it made you uncomfortable. Was it because I’m the Crown Prince that you felt you couldn’t be honest with me?”

“Not entirely. I guess I was just afraid that if I didn’t do what you liked, then you would lose interest in me.”

“That would never happen,” he interjected, “The moment I laid my eyes on you, I knew you were the one I wanted to marry.”

The realization dawned on him a little too late. His words carried weight with its double meaning, and he winced. The moment was broken. The thread snapped right in front of your eyes. Pulling away from him, you quickly gathered the bloodied towels and set it aside. You made yourself busy, fully aware of his eyes on you, but you wouldn’t dare look back. You had a feeling that if you did, your mind would run rampant again on the last time he’d been here in your room, when your sheets still smelled like him, and he’d fucked you hard enough on your bed that your bodies left an imprint.

You wouldn’t look at him. You couldn’t.

“I’m sorry about what my father did.”

“It’s fine. I deserved every punch,” he shrugged it off, then smirked. “Although I’m probably less appealing in your eyes now. Bruised and all. I don’t look very Prince Charming-like.”

You snorted. “Since you wish for my honesty, then I’ll tell you now the whole Prince Charming act never suited you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I liked you better when you finally became more comfortable around me. You weren’t as poetic as when you first started courting me, but you were more… yourself. You were funnier, and a lot more charming when you weren’t trying so hard,” you broke that rule all too easily, and you did look at him. You looked at him, even if you could never see through him. “To me, it felt like I wasn’t dating the Crown Prince at all. I liked the unfiltered version of Suna Rintaro better. The one who enjoyed silences, instead of filling it with flowery words to get my heart fluttering. The one who preferred phone calls over texts because you wanted to hear my voice before going to sleep. The one who I considered my closest friend, the one I knew I wanted to marry, too.”

He was beautiful like this – his shirt hanging loosely at his broad shoulders, his arms slightly leaning back as it dipped with his weight on the mattress. His hair was tousled, the dark locks beautifully framing his face. And his eyes – hazel and more brown than green as the orange ember glows kissed him – were something you could lose yourself in for hours. For forever, even.

Suddenly, you wanted the world to end this way. You wanted time to stop if it meant picturing him like this, frozen and unguarded, beautiful and smelling like your perfume. You would’ve died a happy man if it meant this would be your last moment. With him on your bed, his clothes on your floor, and your ring on his finger.

You yearned for him so badly your body ached.

“Princess,” he mumbled after a pregnant pause, his voice coming out small as he said, “Why don’t you hate me?”

“Who says I don’t?”

The smile you pulled from him is lighthearted; unresevered. “Let me rephrase my question. Why do you still love me?”

Because isn’t that what love is? To know someone’s flaws, and to accept them as who they are? To see all your bad mornings and watch you stumble into the bathroom, clumsy and hazy. To see you at your worst, to choose arguments with you than silence with you. I thought that’s what love meant – to see the ugliness in another and to defy the impulse to turn the other way in search of another, the ‘someone better.’

You don’t tell him that. Instead, you offer another truth. “I wish I knew how to answer that myself.”

“I’m afraid,” Rintaro admitted, voice vulnerable and small. “I fear that one day, your hatred of me will consume you, and you will forget why you ever loved me.”

The candles cast soft shadows off his face, flickering like the fleeting time of the time you had with him. Each flame pulsed with the restless ache in your heart as you recalled the moments of closeness and intimacy that was half-heartedly reciprocated.

Your gaze drifted toward the space where he’d once lain beside you, the indentation in the sheets a painful reminder of the absence that now filled the void. You wanted to tell him you hadn’t changed the sheets since he last slept here. The scent of his cologne still lingered in the air, he still had his own pair of socks in your drawer, he’d left a wristwatch or two behind. He was here everywhere in your room, even if his heart wasn’t.

And it was so hard – so fucking hard – to accept that he didn’t love you.

Want me, you pleaded silently, at least want me. Just a little bit.

With slow, deliberate steps, your hand rested lightly on the bed’s edge, your fingers brushing against the cool, smooth fabric, as if permanently pushing the warmth of his presence back to the bed. Your heart ached with a bittersweet yearning for a heart that was never fully yours, a yearning that clung to you until it wrapped its fingers around your throat.

He was here now, wasn’t he? He wasn’t leaving. He said he would divorce you, he said it was always going to be her, but he was here – in front of you, in your room. If you dared to reach out a hand and crawl close enough, you could fall into his lap and cradle his head to your chest. And it was exactly that passionate longing that would ruin you – because you couldn’t resist. You couldn’t resist from trailing your fingers up his arm, all the way to his face. His eyes were unreadable; his pupils dilated and his lips pulled apart.

God, you wanted to kiss him.

So you pulled him close. Grabbed him by the collar, and slid yourself into his lap until Rintaro was forced to scoot backwards to balance you both, his large hands coming to rest on your hips. You breathed hard, shaking your head at yourself before your forehead knocked with his.

“Rin… Your Highness,” you corrected, rasping out the words. “I’m sorry. I know it’s wrong, and I know I could never have your heart but could you just – could you please hold me? Just for a minute, please. Pretend that you’re in love with me, I just–” your breath hitched when he squeezed your hips, to stop you or encourage you, you couldn’t tell. “–I just want to feel it again. That happiness I had with you.”

Rintaro hitched you up higher on his lap. Your chest crashed with his, and his lips followed. He tasted of blood and sugary biscuits. His taste, and his scent, flooded your senses until there was nothing to perceive but him.

And the kiss? It isn’t gentle. It isn’t soft. It’s desperate – lips bruising lips, teeth knocking with teeth, and tongues passionately grasping at one another. Your hands fly everywhere after that. Tugging at his hair, grabbing him harder by the collar to deepen the kiss. He swallows every sound you make, breathes them in like he needs them to live. So you give all you can and moan out his name – not Your Highness – and revel in the way he keens. He melts like snowflakes in the heat of your palm, like your touch burns him. You’re seconds away from dragging him back up on the bed when Rintaro suddenly shoves you off him. He flings himself upright and crosses the other side of the room in quick strides, the quick rise and fall of his back facing you the only thing visible from the dimly-lit room.

He didn’t need to say it out loud.

He’d regretted that kiss. Your heart broke once more as you sat at the edge of your bed. His rejection stung, even more so when he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Rintaro was shivering now as his head knocked against the window. Each breath he took seemed labored, as if even the act of drawing air was a struggle against the overwhelming sorrow that enveloped him. The air around him felt dense with the gravity of his internal torment, and your heart sank as you finally voiced out what he could never say out loud –

“…You really don’t love me.”

The silence falling over the room wrapped around the space like a heavy, suffocating shroud. the absence of sound was deafening. It pressed in on the walls and made each breath feel louder. Every creak of the floorboards or distant murmur from the outside was amplified, heavily echoed in the thick air. And when Rintaro finally spoke, it came with a tone of finality and unconcealed regret.

“I’m sorry.”

You swallowed, blinking back the tears as you fixed your appearance. “Pardon me for a moment,” you began to exit the room, your hands hovering on the handle before you you’re your decision. “Your Highness… is it okay if I stay here at my parents? It’s just for a few days. I don’t think I can handle returning to the Palace anytime soon.”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” Rintaro did one final sweep of your room with his eyes. Something unreadable passed over his face. In the next moment, he cleared his throat, and opened the door himself. “I should leave. Goodnight, Princess. Please tell your parents that I left already, and I truly am sorry for the mess I caused.”

Rintaro was gone before you could say anything.

Just before his back disappeared from your line of sight, you saw something you thought you would never witness – Rintaro took two steps at a time on his way down, his frown pronounced as he wiped the tears off his face.

It unfolds like a badly written tragedy.

One moment, Rintaro is standing in the confines of your room, his heart racing with a desperate urgency that pulsed through every fiber of his being. He’d wanted to keep kissing you. Pulling away, and resisting his desire had to be one of the greatest pains he’d experienced, but he had to. He couldn’t keep doing this to you. His conscience wouldn’t let him.

That’s why he had to resort to doing the only thing he could think of in that moment – to run away and leave you behind.

Storming through the stately halls and out the grand doors of your estate, Rintaro pushed through. The weight of his regrets made each step harder to take, a burden that dragged him toward the waiting car parked outside the chill beginning to settle.

He jumped into the vehicle, ignoring his driver’s confused queries before slamming the door shut behind him. Inside, the car felt like a confining cell, its leather seats and polished surface now an inescapable prison of his own making. His hands, trembling with a mix of frustration and despair, gripped the steering wheel with a white-knuckled intensity.

In a sudden, raw burst of emotion, his fist struck the steering wheel with a deafening thud. The impact reverberated through the car and sent a shiver down his spine.

Still, he kept going – each strike of his fist minimal in comparison to his anguish. He reveled in it, the sharp pain in his knuckles a fleeting distraction from the deeper, more consuming agony that began to eat away at him.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, each inhalation a struggle. The air inside the car felt stifling, thick with the heavy scent of leather and the acrid tang of the remnants of blood at his face. His tears began to flow uncontrollably, streaming down his face and mingling with the sweat that dampened his brow. In the suffocating silence, his mind raced through a myriad of memories – from when he’d first kissed you, when he first held your hand, and the tender embraces he held you in. Each memory served to remind him of what he had now – nothing but a fractured connection, a strained marriage, and your fragile heart which he couldn’t protect.

Each image passing through his mind were tinged with bitterness. He recalled the warmth of your presence, the way your smile could light up the room, and the feeling of your hand in his.

He wished he could take it all back – to start from the beginning, to re-introduce himself to who he truly was. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. It was too late.

He’d gotten Iris pregnant.

Rintaro hadn’t mean to. Sure, he was careless and never used protection, but he thought little of it. Iris’ cycles were irregular and they never worried if she missed her period. She was always on the pill – all because of him, since Kiyoomi wouldn’t have touched her anyway. In another lifetime, Rintaro might’ve felt happy. Instead, he was filled with crushing dread. He couldn’t be a father, he didn’t want to be like his father.

And why hadn’t she told him? All this time… he foolishly thought she’d began ignoring him because it was a mutual, unspoken feeling that they’d just gotten tired. He never handled the media’s criticism well, and Iris wasn’t any better. She cared about her image and reputation more than anything – so why hide this from him? If he had known sooner…

What? his mind taunted, What would you do if you knew sooner?

Rintaro’s head dropped to the steering wheel. The voice in his head was right. He wouldn’t have done anything. Had he known four months ago, he would’ve celebrated. Had he known two months ago, he would’ve been upset, but choose to take responsibility in the end. But now? Now his decision was clear. Without giving it a second thought, Rintaro pulled out of your driveway and headed straight for the palace, dialing Iris on his way.

She picked up on the third ring.

“So it’s true,” he spoke to the phone, driving past the other cars on the highway in full speed. He should drive more carefully, but his blood was pumping loud in his veins – your touch lit a fire in him, and he needed that fire stoked. “You’re pregnant.”

A pause came from the other line. “How did you know?”

Rintaro gripped the steering wheel tighter, glaring at the phone even if she couldn’t see. “You’re heartless, Iris. How could you let my wife find out about it first before I did? Why did she have to tell me?”

“She told you – what? I never planned on letting you know about it, Rintaro. I don’t even know how she found out!”

“What, you were going to use that baby against me? Is that what you planned?” he growled at her, “You’re not keeping that damned baby – you’re getting rid of it right now. I’m not letting you fuck up my marriage.”

“I wasn’t going to keep it anyway! You’re absolutely insane if you think I’m planning to give birth to your filthy child–”

“Shut up!”

Rintaro ended the call. He’d had enough of her and her greediness. How dare she keep something like that from him, aborting his child before he even knew of its existence?

He stepped harder on the gas.

The engine roared in defiant response to his intense, almost reckless driving, its powerful growl a stark contrast to the stifling silence that enveloped the car. The air inside the car was thick with the acrid scent of tension and frustration, each breath he took feeling heavier and more labored as he fought to keep his rage contained.

His thoughts raced with the echoes of the argument, each harsh word and biting remark replaying in his mind like a relentless loop. The sting of her anger gnawed at him, fueling the fire of his own resentment. The images of her face, twisted in frustration, seemed to haunt the darkened windows of the car. Iris seemed to do that often – haunting him both in his dreams and a nightmare.

Rintaro couldn’t fathom why it was too late when he realized she’d never been a good person to begin with.

She was never his friend.

She only approached him because Rintaro was malleable. He was a blank canvas of a man, a lost Prince. He was nothing but an experimental toy for her. She’d kissed him, stolen his heart, and fed him lies that she’d give him what he wanted if he did what she liked. And he did – every fucking time. He drunk himself wasted, because Iris didn’t like drinking alone. He smoked packs of cigarettes for her even when he hated the taste of nicotine, because Iris got antsy without smoking. He fucked her hard and deep, and spent countless nights in her bed, because her husband never wanted to touch her. And what did he get in return?

Fake smiles. Sarcastic, mocking comments. A dry reply from his enthusiastic texts. A quick, good fuck if they were bored enough.

Iris never wanted him. She only ever wanted one thing: security. And when she was married to a Prince, and had another wrapped around her finger? She could do no wrong in the eyes of the throne.

As he drove, the powerful beams of the headlights cast fleeting shadows across the road.

The palace loomed ahead, its silhouette a distant promise of refuge that seemed increasingly out of reach. The anger that coursed through him was a force unto itself, a seething urge that refused to be quelled.

As he approached the grand gates of the palace, his emotions were spilling all over the place. He only had one place in mind: Belleview Manor.

Rounding a corner in the dimly lit hallway of the palace, Rintaro came to an abrupt halt. The reaction of his body was instantaneous: his breath caught in his throat, his muscles locking into place. Before him stood the Queen, her regal presence magnified by the soft, flickering light of the sconces lining the walls. Her silhouette, framed by the rich, opulent draped and the gleaming marble floors, seemed almost otherworldly.

She stood there, unmoving, like she’d somehow known he would be coming any minute now.

Rintaro’s head pounded in his chest. Cold dread washed over him, an icy hand clutching at his insides. The Queen’s serene yet inscrutable expression was nothing but an act, that he knew. In reality, her expressions were alien and foreboding. Her eyes, deceptively warm and reassuring, stared back at him like dark abysses, their depth hinting at the hidden complexities and secrets Rintaro had never cared to consider before.

He felt as if the ground beneath him had shifted, his already unstable world rocked by the revelation of a hidden side to his mother that he never perceived.

He stood frozen, a tangible sense of fear and anger enveloping him as he confronted the unsettling truth: the queen, his mother, was a mystery he had never fully unraveled.

The secrets she harbored, once a vague notion in the back of his mind, now loomed large and menacing, casting a long shadow over his perception of her. The fear that gripped him was profound and disorienting, a jarring contrast to the reverence he had always felt. His whole life, he’d only wanted one thing – to please his mother, to make her proud, to be a Queen’s son worthy of becoming the next King. His whole life he’d only done what he was told.

But in that moment, he was consumed by the chilling realization that the mother he had known and loved was a stranger, and the weight of her concealed truths left him trembling with a profound, unsettling fear.

“You,” he breathed out, his fear now overtaken by his sight going red. He felt mocked, humiliated, used. “Why did you never tell me?”

The memory of that night on the beach was seared into his mind.

He could never forget it – Iris’ sneer, the way her lips curled in contempt, as though he were something beneath her. Her words had cut deep, bleeding into his every being until the truth pounded at his veins. She had looked at him with disdain, her eyes cold and unfeeling, as she spat out how she’d never wanted to be with him, how she’d used him to cure her loneliness. A rejection born from a sick, twisted confession.

And now that he’d fulfilled his purpose in the bleakness of her world, he was nothing more than a disposable distraction. She’d called him worthless, a joke, someone unworthy of her attention – a prince in name but never in her eyes. The wind had whipped around him, cloaked around him like a glacial storm, but it was her biting words that had left him feeling exposed and small.

She’d delivered a stab to his heart that no amount of time could erase.

I never wanted to be with someone like you in the first place.

Didn’t you know, Rin?

You were never the King’s son.

#suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintaro angst #suna x reader angst #haikyuu angst #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x reader angst #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #suna rintaro x you #kiyoomi x you #haikyuu x reader angst

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bueckerrss · 7 months ago

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softcore

pairing: Chris sturniolo x fem! reader

warnings: mentions of drugs, wounds, drowning, cursing, and more.

word count:1146

recommended songs: bittersweet tragedy by Melanie Martinez, softcore by the neighbourhood, and reflections by the neighbourhood.

theyre 18/19 in this story.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

“My muse” that is what he called her and she loved it, she would get him through his darkest times. Their relationship was the most beautiful thing in the world, if people saw them walking down the street they knew that they were deeply in love just by how they looked at each other. but what people didn’t know is how their relationship was behind closed doors, not everything was sunshine and rainbows.

Two months and three days. That's the amount of time he had been distant. And it was driving her crazy, she wanted her boyfriend back. She felt the relationship slipping away but she was determined to make it survive. Even if it's the last thing she does. She didn’t know the reason as to why he was being so distant. The things he had gotten himself into that she wasn’t capable of knowing about.

“What do you mean you can't make it tonight? Chris, we’ve had this planned for weeks now. Could you possibly cancel on them?” she asked, “baby, as much as I want to you know I can’t.” he replied with a frustrated sigh “yea, whatever, it doesn’t matter do whatever you want.” she said “babe, don’t-” he was cut off by the sound of the call hanging up.

He sighed at the memory, it had been a week since that argument. He knew he had to go talk to her about the way he was acting but he didn't have time to do so, he had to be on that boat in less than twenty minutes. He decided to just say fuck it and head to the yacht, he could make it up to her later.

What he didn’t know is that y/n was right behind him following his every step. as he stepped on the dock getting into the yacht y/n several steps behind him. once she got on she hid behind a pair of stacked boxes.

“I’m done doing these deliveries for you ash, it’s becoming too much for me” he told the older man as he shifted uncomfortably “now, why would you decide to come to this trip if you were just going to quit?” the man spoke, rubbing his face in frustration “i have personal matters to take care of and this job is pulling me away from” he stopped when his eyes met hers.

her eyes widened as she realized that he saw her, she quickly ducked behind the boxes trying not to make too much noise. “who is this guy” “what does chris have to do with him?” she thought trying to stay as quiet as possible. as she slowly backed away she accidentally ran into a box knocking it over making it fall with a huge bang.

The sound of the box falling made the two talking guys look the way the sound came from. Shifting uncomfortably at the two pairs of eyes that were on her “this isn’t the bathroom..” she awkwardly giggled before trying to run away.

Before y/n could get far enough a big hand grab her hair and pull her back to be face to face with him, “do you know who she is?” asked ash as he pointed his gun to y/ns head. Chris hesitated as he bit the inside of his cheek in nervousness, fear crosses his eyes before replying: “no.” but ash knew chris like the back of his hand, he knew chris was lying “well then since you don’t know who she is and she was clearly spying on us, you know what I have to do right?” asked ash making eye contact with chris an evil glint in his eyes.

Chris slowly nodded his head, biting his cheek again before chris could utter another word ash pointed his gun at y/n and shot her. The power from the gunshot pushed her back causing her to stubble into the water. “Y/N!” screamed chris as he launched forward trying to stop her, but before he could reach her ash got in the way.

“I thought you didn’t know her, lying is bad christopher, and you know what i do to liars” spoke ash as he got closer to chris. chris quickly pushed through him diving into the water for his lover.

the deeper he dived the deeper he felt he was going to lose her, he should’ve known since the beginning that this would happen. but he wasn’t thinking straight, he got consumed by the thrill of the drug dealer world and how nothing could ever happen to him again.

he finally reached her arm pulling her up with him, once they reached the surface swimming to the dock. chris started coughing from all the water that he had accidentally swallowed as he reached upwards to get to the surface “please don’t be dead” “please don’t be dead” chris kept repeating as he laid y/n down on the wooden deck.

tears streaming down his face as he did cpr on her, he looked around for at least a person to help him. he didn't know what to do but he did know one thing; he couldn’t lose her. not today, not tomorrow, never.

that night he stayed up thinking, he knew it was a dangerous thing what he did and he knew he couldn’t keep her around anymore. he loved her way too much to see her get hurt or worse killed.

he knew he had to do the right thing, that being he had to break up with her, even if it hurt him. he couldn’t see her suffering from his mistakes.

the next day he went to visit her in the hospital, flowers in his hands eyes bloodshot red from crying all night long. but when he saw her, it took everything in him to not break down in front of her.

“babe, hi i wasn’t expecting to see you so early” said y/n a smile on her face as her eyes met her boyfriends, “baby? are you alright?” she said softly the smile slowly fading away.

he just shook his head “i’m sorry” he said his voice breaking he looked up to keep the tears from falling “but you know I can't involve you in this and the fact I obviously can't protect you the way I want to. this isn't safe, y/n.” he said looking at her tears streaming down his face “c-chris what are you talking about?” she said worried.

“i’m just saying i can’t do this anymore y/n it’s not good for us. what i do is clearly dangerous and i don’t want you near any of it. so to keep you safe, im ending it here” he said biting the inside of his cheek before leaving the room. “i love you.” he whispered once the door closed behind him.

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this was written when i was running on a few hours of sleep, then no sleep and then when i was tired so sorry if its bad ☹️ when i have the time and motivation i promise to make this better 😭.

tags: @bernardsbendystraws @patscorner @lexisecretaccx @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloblogs @sturniol0s @raysmayhem-72 @endereies @breeloveschris

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narcissistcookbook · 3 months ago

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about thirteen or fourteen years ago @inkylizard told me about this show Sleep No More (description beneath the cut) they'd seen in an early run in Boston, and i had such bittersweet feelings listening to them talk about it because 1) it was absolutely my kind of thing, and 2) it was basically impossible to see it because it was so far away (i'm Scotland-based)

and since then i probably thought about the show more than most people who have seen it. i ended up working some of what kit described to me into my own music and shows, in a very vague sense

anyway, fast forward over a decade and i'm in NYC for ten days prior to tour and kit tells me that Sleep No More is still on, and it's about to close forever so this is my first and last chance to see it

so anyway

i finally saw it and it was amazing. for once hype wasn't the joy killer. it was inspiring and empowering and it's made me want to explore some of the more outlandish ideas that have been tickling my brain in terms of music writing/performance

i almost went again today, but low energy mixed with a fear of not wanting to dilute the magic by returning to the source convinced me otherwise. i think it means more to me to wait over a decade to see it, and then never be able to see it again.

Brief description of Sleep No More if you haven't seen it and aren't aware of it, told from the perspective of someone who had it described to them once and then saw it once 13 years later and has done no reading or research beyond that. Apologies if I describe it in a way that makes you squirm and go "nooo you aren't explaining it right" 💜

Sleep No More is an adaptation of Macbeth told mostly through the medium of Dance and Vibes. It takes place across the breadth and depth of an entire five floor building called the McKittrick Hotel, which is a dreamlike network of TV/movie-quality sets (a ballroom, a hotel, a city apartment, hell, a street of open shops, a mental hospital, a forest, witches' dens, a huge room full clocks connected to a tiny prayer vestibule, there's too many to mention) and masked audience members are encouraged to wander freely and explore the entirety of the building in any way they like

all the sets are fully explorable and designed to be examined in close detail. if you dig around you'll find letters, medical records, diaries, a fully stocked and unguarded sweet shop, hidden dressing rooms, discarded props, again much more than I could list off here. rooms have backrooms which have other backrooms. secret passageways connect parts of the building/story to other parts.

and through all this the cast are whirling and screeching and sprinting from place to another with little regard for who is or isn't following their storyline. at one point I was one of only two people watching an actor sew up a disembowled teddybear in a child's bedroom - and in the mirror, the same bedroom was reflected covered in blood. at another I was the only person watching a nurse tuck a man made of rocks into a hospital bed. at another, I turned a corner and one of the witches (with about twenty people in tow struggling to keep up) barrelled into me on their way to a scene elsewhere (he stopped and gave me a boop on the nose). another time, i walked into what I thought was an empty interrogation room only to realise after *far too long* that one of the characters was hiding in there with me

and on top of all this, each character has a scene they will only perform to one other audience member chosen by them

the magic for me is that not only can you not see the whole show in a single visit, but that it's basically impossible for anyone to see the whole show period no matter how hard they try. someone i know has seen it seven times and i've seen parts of it that they didn't even know about. it creates a sense of longing for what you'll never see, a sense of loss for the parts you missed, and a deep sense of personal connection with what you were lucky enough to see

what a banger

#sleep no more

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miabebe · 8 months ago

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The Legend of The Sea: Epilogue

"You're crying? You must be turning human, the MerFolk don't cry."

"Of course we do. Why do you think the Sea is nothing but salt?"

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol × reader Genre: Heavy Angst, Romance, Implied smut Word Count: 4K A/n: It's finally here! I felt the angst level in the original fic was too high I wanted to give some closure but also maintain the bittersweet nature of their story so I tried my best, I hope its a satisfactory to you guys! Read the fic here first!

3 months later.

Seungcheol stared at his reflection in the water.

Dark hair toussled messily in the wind, dark circles stark under his eyes. He hadn't slept in days....he couldn't.

Every time he closed his eyes he would go back to that night in his room.

You taking a step back and then another.

Your hair fluttering in the wind of the sea.

Your eyes, when you looked at him for the last time.

He just couldn't get it out of his head. The scene would play over and over and over in his head, as nightfall would turn to daybreak, forcing him out of the confines of his room, forcing him into court, forcing him into his role as King.

That was the unfortunate thing about being one - Seungcheol didn't have the time or the luxury to wallow in his own sorrows. He had a kingdom to look after and people to protect. That meant everyday, he had to be a leader, he had to be the bravest man in the nation. It was only in the darkness of his room, standing before the window, taking in your lingering scent and the echoes of your words that he was his true self - a broken, broken man.

If there was any place that could offer him even a sliver of solitude, it was here, at the seacave. Seungcheol didn't know why he found himself here so often. Even though it was the waters that so cruelly took you from him, perhaps being close to the ocean made him feel close to you. Or perhaps because sometimes, the sea would take pity and wash up little somethings from your life onto the shore - your favourite sea weed, or the rare sea flowers you loved to talk about or those pretty pearls in the oysters.

Over the days, Seungcheol had been collecting those little tidbits, filling the cave with signs and memories of you. He had moved your favourite dresses, your favourite books, everything precious to you that was left in his possession out here. This was his haven, his sanctuary - his last reminder of you. His castle and the men in his court were unfortunately not gracious enough to entertain Seungcheol's misery - they needed him to leave you behind, needed him to find a queen, a political alliance that could strengthen the kingdom. Yet another reason Seungcheol often found himself in the presence of the ocean - even though it was taunting, it was where you belonged and where he freely belonged to you.

Today too the ocean is mocking him not so subtly, as Seungcheol's eyes fell on a little something that washed up on the shore, something he was actually quite familiar with - your seashell necklace.

Many months ago, right here, around the time day blended into night, you met him, speaking urgently. You rambled about some mission, something you had to do, something he had to help you with. Handing him this very necklace, you told him one day you'll come to Land like a blank slate and asked him to return it to you when you felt most lost - you said that it would remind you of what you needed to do when the time came. Seungcheol did not understand at all. It didn't matter though, all he had to do was just help you however he could. Your mission was his mission.

Bending down, he picked up the necklace, wondering how exactly it aided you. He had been noticing changes in you for a while by the time he returned it to you. You were asking more questions about the ocean, you were more quiet, lost in thoughts, lost in a battle with yourself. Seungcheol knew he had to let you figure things out, that's what you told him and that's what he did. By the time he came from war, the way you held onto him when he finally recovered told him something had drastically changed. Before he could even attempt to fathom what it was things had escalated - his father died, you were jailed for an assassination attempt and Seungcheol was forced to become king to free you.

Maybe if he hadn't let you go, you'd still be there, not beside him but at least he'd have the knowledge and the surety that you were okay. But Seungcheol couldn't bind you like that, he couldn't strip you of the one thing you valued the most about being in the ocean - your freedom. He had to let you go, but he didn't think you'd have gone this far away from him.

"She always manages to find a way doesn't she?"

Seungcheol stumbled back at the sound of a voice, completely taken aback. Before him was a woman who was definitely old but didn't seem it - she had a staff in one hand, and had donned clothes that made her look like she was in the waters though she was clearly floating above it. It was an apparition......this was magic - that meant she was a woman of the sea.

"The Sea Witch." She corrected his thought, pointing. "And the owner of that."

Seungcheol glanced at the necklace in his hand. "This is Y/n's."

The old lady let out a laugh, shaking her head. "I told you, she's a smart one that one. Always a step ahead, even of me." As she floated closer to him, Seungcheol did not take a worried step back. "Your lovely Y/n, she was an apprentice in my practice, all members of the Royal family are bound to work under me to understand sea magic-"

"Royal family?" Seungcheol blinked hard and fast. "Y/n.... she's....royalty?"

"Strange isn't it? Neither did you know you were in love with the youngest princess of the Sea, neither did she know she was in love with the only Prince of the land. Things would have been so different had you both known....."

"I don't understand." Seungcheol rubbed his head. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know why Y/n came to land King Choi?"

"I figured it was to kill my father-"

"The king." She corrected. "Y/n's mission was to kill the king. Did you ever wonder why?"

"I pondered about it day and night. The only explanation I could think of was...." Seungcheol recalled that fateful day. "It has something to do with my father setting sail."

"Indeed." She confirmed, making Seungcheol's heart sink in his chest. He knew that was a bad idea, he had voted against it. And with each word of the story that the Sea witch proceeded to tell him, it only made it worse.

"So...." He tried to process everything that had happened. It all made sense and also didn't at the same time. "Y/n had to kill my father or me to get back her kingdom. How did you or anyone think she could have done that without her memories? How could you expect that-"

"Was she not nearly successful King Choi?" The Sea Witch smiled knowingly. "Did you think the Hwangs would set her up to a mission that she could easily fulfill? Their plan was to tie her ancient sea magic, to ensure that she would fail in all ways possible, but your woman..... she's a warrior. She's one of the finest battle strategist the sea has ever seen and she had cleverly planned everything in her favour. That necklace...." She chuckled looking at his hands. "That is one of my most prized possessions, something she knew I would help her in exchange for and so she planted it with you and used it when the time came. She always finds a way King Choi, you see how its reached you again? How she sent me to you?"

Seungcheol stared at the seashell pendant. He had just thought of it as a pretty reminder of where you were from. He didn't know it was your secret weapon. That there was so much to this.

"And what do you want in exchange for it?" The Sea Witch stepped ahead, mistaking his wandering into the past as hesitance. "What is it that you want?"

Seungcheol let out a sad chuckle. There was only one thing he ever wanted.

"You can't give it to me." He held out his hand, returning the necklace to its rightful owner. "You can't bring her back."

"But I can."

The crashing waves were not louder than the racing of Seungcheol's heart against his chest.

"Only the dead can't be brought back King Choi. The living just need to be moved around."

The living.

"That's not possible." Seungcheol shook his head. "I know how Sea magic works, she's told me before, you just told me! I saw the sea foam myself....." He wrapped his hand around shell, its sharp edge bleeding him over a wound that never healed. "How is it possible?"

"Because of that." She pointed at the crimson of his hand dripping into the golden sand. "The Sea works in mysterious ways King Choi; magic works in mysterious ways too. When Y/n fell into the Sea that day, so did the dagger, with your blood on it. Blood for blood. I believe the sea magic was satisfied."

Seungcheol felt a ragged breath leave him. "She's.... alive?"

"Barely."

The Sea Witch waved her staff in the air, making the waters rise like a screen, the evening light behind it projecting an image. It was you, sitting down somewhere on the floor, hugging your legs, softly rocking back and forth. Your arms looked a lot thinner than usual, cheeks sunken in, eyes tired and fluttered shut.

"The Sea might have spared her but the Hwangs didn't. The mission was to kill the king. Your father died a natural death and if it had ended at that, there was nothing to argue but unfatefully, before the completion of 100 days, there was another king." Seungcheol felt his insides turn. "She failed to kill you and so she wasn't deemed worthy of the crown. When Hwangs took over, their first order was to imprison her to avoid any rebellion from her side against the new kingdom."

The Sea Witch tilted her head at him, smiling sadly. "Strange isn't it? What you did to save her was what ended up being her downfall. Fate too works in mysterious ways."

Seungcheol swore if fate appeared before him right now, he would crush it with his bare hands.

"I'll get her back." Never before did he feel the kind of determination coursing through his veins. The image of you slowly disappeared as the sea witch lowered her staff looking amused. "I'll save her no matter what it takes."

"Y/n doesn't need your saving King Choi. She went to prison willingly." Seungcheol’s lips parted in shock. "Taking into consideration that you became King only the night before a 100 days completed, the Council of the Sea offered her one more chance to go to Land and kill you. She refused. She said she would prove her worth for the throne in the Sea itself. Sure she's benevolent, loves her people and is loyal to her kingdom, but the fact is that she was simply not trained for administration - she was no match for the Hwangs and so the Council declined her claim to the throne."

You refused to kill him. Again. Even if meant saving yourself and everything you cared about. Seungcheol was determined to do whatever it took to get you back. Unite heaven and earth if it came to it. Bring hell from underground, whatever it took.

"Then I'll get her throne back. If that's what it takes to free, I'll do it. Even if it means war. I have been working on science that would allow us to breath in water - we'll set sail, we'll fight, we'll free her, I can do it."

The Sea Witch stared at him, at his pacing agitated self, his mind going mad with just one goal.

"Do you know how magic really came to the sea King Choi?"

Seungcheol blinked, taken aback by the irrelevant question but didn't show it. "The Kangs escaped into it with the spectre of magic....." His eyes focused on the staff in her hand, words faltering as he recognised it from the faint drawings in his old books.

"Escaped?" She laughed without humour. "That's hardly the word King Choi - it was an act of love." Seungcheol frowned in confusion as she continued. "Though both families were neck deep in war, of all the people in the world, the Prince of the Choi kingdom was deeply in love with the Kang Princess. It was his love that brought the spectre of magic to the Kangs, allowing them to hide from battle. It was his love that stopped the war, separated both worlds and ensured peace and it was her love that ensured her people survived. Its her love that still keeps them alive even after so many years."

Seungcheol felt like something stabbed him in his chest as he looked at the Sea witch, grip tight over her staff, looking older than time and in her eyes he recognised the look he always saw in his own - a pining, a fruitless longing for the ones they loved. It was her, she was the Kang Princess. "Their love saved the world, you cannot allow yours to end it King Choi. You cannot declare war between two worlds over a mere desire."

Every bit of hope that had risen in Seungcheol crumbled miserably. "Is there nothing I can do? How am I supposed to just sit still knowing she's not alright?"

"Forget her Seungcheol."

" I can't-"

"Listen to me," She urged urgently. "If you don't bring war to Sea, the Hwangs will eventually bring it to Land. There's a reason the people of the Sea do not want them on the throne - they don't care for anything before power. The only strength the Sea had over Land was magic, but now with people here slowly discovering it, with people like you letting your inquisitiveness take over, the Hwangs feel threatened. So I have a solution if you're willing to listen."

Seungcheol nodded.

"Relinquish your knowledge of the Sea and as King, give me permission to take the same away from your people. I will make a deal with the Hwangs - your memories in exchange for Y/n's freedom."

Seungcheol looked at her with hope. "Do you think that would work?"

"Do you think you can do it? Forgetting about the sea would mean, forgetting about her too. You won't remember anything about her, it will be like she never even existed." She looked af him sadly. "But she will be free and she will be home."

Not having even a memory of you? All Seungcheol ever knew was his love for you, if he forgot that, what would he be but a shell of a man? But if it meant you'd be free, that you'd be safe, what else could possibly matter to him?

Seungcheol didn't remember much of what happened after he nodded. He rememebered thick black smoke rising above the forest right from the castle, prompting him to immediately get on his horse and ride towards the fire. It was his library. He watched the guards pour buckets of water to douse the flames but unfortunately it only stopped after every single inch was reduced to ashes. As Seungcheol walked in the aftermath, he racked his brains to remember what exactly was in here and if it truly was valuable or not. Considering he could barely recollect what was here, he figured it must not have been too important and sent orders for the place to be cleaned and the room to be redone. After all, the new queen would need a space of her own.

8 years later

It all began again the day you woke up on the beach.

The air was cool, the sand was hot; the seagulls were flying across the blue sky, the sound of the waves was like a beautiful melody – it was like a perfectly painted picture. It felt serene and pleasant and like home, like nothing could make this moment feel better.

Then you heard the laughter. A familiar, beautiful laughter and so this time, you didn’t hide.

Adjusting your red dress, you pulled yourself up to your feet, leaning against the big boulder and there you saw them, Seungcheol laughing at Kkuma as the little ball of fluff rolled about in the sand. The tightness that did not leave your chest the last eight years slowly began to unravel. There was so much happiness in his laughter, so much life in the way he chased his dog in the sand. It was like he had none of the pain that you were carrying for almost a decade.

Of course, he didn’t. The Sea Witch told you what happened, that he had given up all his memories of the Sea to save you. That he had given up all his memories of you. You knew that meant he didn’t pine for you the way you did for him all these years, but you didn’t think you’d see him so carefree. Something about the way your existence didn’t seem to even affect him sent a strange sadness rippling through you. Maybe coming here was a mistake. What if he had moved on? What if he got married and had a family? What if you returning made no difference to him? You could understand Seungcheol not remembering you but the thought of you not mattering to him anymore? You don’t think you could handle that; you should have never come here.

You took a step back and then another, pulling yourself away from there, pulling yourself away from him when you felt yourself knock into something that let out a small cry. You turned around to see a small boy rubbing his head vigorously, looking at you full of accusation. He looked young, like he was five or six, dressed in the finest of clothes, his hair windswept to the side. You got on your knees, meeting him at eye level to apologise when you felt yourself being knocked over into the sand by a familiar ball of white. Kkuma barked excitedly, covering your in wet licks, making you laugh, the pain in your heart slightly ebbing. Maybe not everyone had forgotten you.

“Kkuma never plays with strangers.” The young boy narrowed his eyes at you. “Who are you?”

You looked at him at a loss of words, when a shadow fell over you making you look up to see a silhouette against the sun. It's only when he crouched beside you that you could see all his features clearly - he's gotten a little old over the years but he still looks like Seungcheol. Your Seungcheol.

“You’re not supposed to be here. The beach is off limits.” He stated and you looked at him pointedly. Somehow, he understood the question in your eyes. “I’m not supposed to be here either but…. Something about the Sea keeps pulling me to it and I am the King so…”

You politely bowed, as one would to a King.

“I’ve not seen you around. Are you from out of town?”

You nodded. You didn't know what else to say to him. How could you explain the events of the last 8 years? Before you were taken away to prison the one thing you managed to do was get a hold of the Sea Witch's shell necklace and guided it to reach him with the little magic you knew. You knew it would bring her to him like it did to you, that it would offer him and explanation and a closure but the result of that ended up so much different than you had expected - you'd lost him in ways you didn't imagine.

After you were released from prison there was only one thing to do - get the Hwangs out of power. So you spent years assembling an army, figuring out the best way to crumble this empire when you received news that your sister was not in fact missing but hidden away by the Hwangs in an attempt to take over the throne. After you had successfully plotted and managed to break her free, even though the Sea Council deemed she was the best fit for the throne, the Hwangs did not surrender. Days and nights you battled, the sea was plagued with storms and horrifying events until finally one day, the hwangs fell from power, returning peace to the waters. It was only after you put your sister on the throne, made sure that the Sea was in safe hands that the Sea witch confided in you - once you gained the ability to breath on Land, you'd always have it - you could go back to Seungcheol.

And here you were, with him right before you, with nothing stopping the two of you from being together yet in his eyes, you were nothing but a mere stranger. You wondered if this was how he felt when he found you so many years ago, when you didn't look at him with an ounce of recognition. It must've hurt, like the way it was hurting now but it did not stop him from looking after you, guiding you, making you fall in love with him all over again.

"So you don't have a place to stay?"

You shook your head.

"Can you not speak?" The little boy quipped, earning a glare from the older man. It made you smile as you nodded. Things had not changed on Land.

Seungcheol eyes though wandered over you like he was trying to see through you, figure you out. They stopped at the shell necklace resting on your neck, one last gift from the sea witch before you left the ocean for good. On it engraved were the words,

"Till death do us part." Seungcheol read and you nodded, echoing his words. "Till death do us part."

He met your eyes and you wondered if be could see how much you longed for him, how much you missed him. His lips parted like he wanted to say something but was interrupted by the little boy standing in between, holding the pendant in his hand.

"Is this from the sea?" You nodded, making his eyes shine in excitement. "My father loves the sea, he thinks there's life under it! He keeps researching and studying about it everyday. Do you know? Have you seen life under the sea-"

Seungcheol pulled the child away from you, mumbling, asking him to play with kkuma who just refused to leave your side. You nearly smiled thinking about how Seungcheol somehow gravitated back to the waters but couldn't bring yourself to when the boy's words ring in your head.

"Father?" You looked at Seungcheol hoping he couldn't see how broken your heart was. Of course he'd moved on.

"I adopted him when he was really young. He was found abandoned at the steps of a church. He needed a parent and the kingdom needed an heir, so....." Seungcheol wasn't quite sure why he was explaining so much to you, a stranger. Something about the questions in your eyes just compelled him to.

"And the Queen?" Your fingers played with the sand, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"I don't have one." Seungcheol confessed. "I could just not bring myself to have one, I don't know why....."

His words trailed odd as he looked at you and that little smile dancing on your lips. God you were so beautiful, why did you make his heart clench like that? He cleared his throat, shaking his head.

"If you don't have a place to stay, you may stay in the Palace till you can arrange for you accommodation. I shall personally look after the necessities, is that okay?"

You nodded slowly as Seungcheol stood up, but this time when he held his hand to help you, you took it, with an unsaid promise to yourself and him, never to let go again.

You were going to make this man fall in love with you all over again. Just like he did.

#seungcheol oneshot #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol romance #Seungcheol smut #seungcheol × reader #choi seungcheol #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen one shot #seventeen series #s.coups angst #s.coups smut #s.coups fluff #s.coups

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ani-iu · 1 month ago

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[𝟑] 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 | angel 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦 × female human 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: marriage of convenience; forced proximity; angst; domestic; crack treated seriously; possessive Adam; he falls first and harder; misogyny; Adam being Adam; explicit language; religious imagery & symbolism; sexual tension; eventual smut; happy ending; not canon compliant. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7,7k.

// blue-eyed altruist, keep your distance, but not too far

𝐀dam hates coffee.

He doesn’t like the earthy smell, finding it difficult to understand how anyone could derive enjoyment from something so unsavoury. And the bitter taste — it always, without fail, fades into the anticlimactic acidic aftertaste on his tongue, so already having endured a string of disappointments in his life, Adam opts out of drinking caffeine to spare himself from even more misery.

Yet, at this moment, as the black stainless steel exterior of the coffee vending machine swallows up the reflection of Adam’s black mask — only leaving an amber frown and two glaring eyes staring back at him visible — Adam feels like the happiest soul in Heaven. The bliss, however, is bittersweet.

By now, a couple of hours have passed since Adam and Lute split up so he could go to Sera’s office alone. But here he is, standing in the empty lobby, stalling the eventual visit for as long as he possibly can. He wasn’t afraid of the seraph; he was merely not in the mood to receive a stern talking to.

Silence means loneliness, and Adam, unable to tolerate either, as soon as the machine grows quiet, allowing that dreadful interval of quietude to settle in and the pungent aroma of coffee to reach his nose, throws the coffee cup into the trash can and restarts the process. The cacophony of mechanical and liquid sounds makes the otherwise deathly silence at least somewhat bearable to endure, allowing Adam to test Sera’s patience with his absence for longer.

The high-pitched string of single-tone beeps signals the completion of another order and diverts Adam's attention from his thoughts, but just as he turns to take the steaming cup and throw it away, he sees Sera's horrifying reflection in the sleek exterior.

"Fuck, Sera! You can’t sneak up on a guy like that!"

"Adam, you are testing my patience." As it echoes through the empty foyer, the seraph's mellow tone of voice is both authoritative and commanding, making her presence felt all the way to Adam's very bones. If you were to ask Adam, he would tell you that the calmness was even worse than if she were to scream at him. "I thought I told your lieutenant I wanted to see you immediately."

"Can’t a guy get a drink first? I had a long day—"

Sera, who is quite familiar with Adam's tendency to change the topic he is not particularly eager to discuss, cuts the angel's prattling short by going straight to the matter at hand. "What is a mortal doing in Heaven?"

"Wow, straight to the point, huh? Well, you all are always on my ass about my way of life, so I decided to change that!"

"You married that mortal." Sera grits through her teeth. She foolishly clung to the hope that perhaps Adam had only brought you here as another rendezvous of his, but marriage, especially if it was officiated by an archangel, was a huge deal.

Adam has the nerve to act surprised. "Oh, so Daniel already ratted me out?"

"No, you did that yourself, but now I will be having a word with archangel Daniel as well for officiating this sacrilegious excuse of matrimony, which, may I add, makes it impossible to send the mortal back! Jaw-dropping, truly. Every single time, Adam, you manage to surprise me with your actions. How did you even get a hold of her?"

"Oh, that's actually a funny story. You should have seen the stunt she pulled in Hell!"

"And that’s where you should have left her — in Hell! Be their problem, not ours!" Sera momentarily raises her voice an octave higher before catching herself and attempting to calm down. She takes a deep breath and exhales, brushing her hair back away from her face while doing so. "Why did she even agree to this?"

Confident to a fault, but having every reason to believe his words, Adam puffs his chest out and points his thumb at himself. "Who can say no to this? Every woman out there wants a piece of the original dick! I just need to pick one of many."

"And you, naturally, go and pick something forbidden." At that moment, it seemed like a reasonable statement to make in an attempt to silence the first man, but that didn't make it less cruel. In front of Sera’s many eyes — visible and not — Adam’s expressive LED mask effortlessly twists his glowing features into a look of pain, although only for a fleeting moment. As soon as Adam gets ahold of his unspoken feelings, Sera concludes their conversation, her tone staying resolute. "Usually wisdom comes with age, but I see that there are instances where age comes alone. I expect you to deal with this problem you created for yourself appropriately. If you keep her under control, I won't interfere. If you are unable to do so, I will. Just like I did with Eve."

And just like that, Adam is left alone, but this time, he is able to stay in that spot for as long as he wants to.

Glancing at the waiting cup of coffee, still steaming away on the drip tray, Adam chucks it into the trash and is about to snap himself to his destination when his gaze gets stuck on his hand. With a defeated sigh, he turns around and strides towards the left wing of the enormous building where all the archangels reside.

Raphael is the last archangel Adam wants to see — ever — usually avoiding the heavenly being as much as he possibly can, which isn’t that hard when the first man is an immortal being who can’t get hurt. But keeping your bleeding wound at the forefront of his mind, Adam has no choice but to seek out the angel of healing of his own volition.

Adam doesn't knock, pushing the door the same way one rips off a band-aid. But instead of experiencing temporary discomfort, he is met with a slender, pale-faced figure.

The eyes, which usually symbolise these celestial beings' all-seeing and omnipresent nature, are tightly wrapped in a white cloth, but a lack of sight doesn't make Raphael's all-pervasive perception any less so. With such a statement, he blatantly showed that he doesn’t need sight to see through others.

Raphael's pride is just another thing he has in common with his fallen brother, apart from their near-identical appearances.

"Adam."

"You already know why I'm here."

Raphael puts his quill down and tilts his head at Adam. "Yes, Sera can be very loud when she wants to. So you really are here because of the mortal? Finally decided to seek my help?"

"She got burned by hellfire. I need something for the wound."

"I was talking about you."

"I’m not hurt."

"That’s what you seem to be desperately trying to convince me of, or are you trying to convince yourself?"

Raphael’s words are met with petulant silence.

The archangel rests his chin in his palm, lazily drawing the silhouette of a bottle in the air with his finger, while Adam watches how an invisible scribble turns into a tangible object before his eyes. Having grabbed Adam's attention, Raphael uses the opportunity wisely. "Not all wounds are physical, and not all of them can be remedied with divine healing. If you want to open your heart to someone again, first you have to mend it together. It has been bleeding for decades, but love heals. Self-love is also love, Adam. You can’t love someone without loving yourself first." The bottle of dark glass grows heavy and starts to drop down, falling into Raphael’s waiting palm. "The burn of hellfire will be the least of her worries if you don’t take into account what I said, Adam."

Snatching the flask of holy water away from the archangel's grasp, Adam teleports instantly back to his apartment. He planned to fly back, but he couldn’t spend a second longer in the same vicinity as Raphael.

If Adam pretended that nothing happened today, it just might seem that way at first glance. All of the furniture is still in its place, and the dust on it is left undisturbed, yet the man can’t help but notice little details like the coffee table being a bit turned to the side while the room feels warmer somehow — more lively and not as empty. Or was it Adam’s subconscious not allowing him to entertain a thought of you not being in his life?

His legs instinctively lead him toward the bedroom, where a small crack in the door allows him to catch a glimpse of the inside without fully stepping into the room.

The moonlight spilling in through the open windows illuminates the minimalistic space. Its rays are softer than the sun's — not as harsh on the eyes — and bathe your feminine features in cool watercolour shades, making you and your existence feel more and more like a dream than reality to the silent observer that is Adam. Adam doesn't even notice when he steps inside, discarding his mask near the bed and sitting on its edge, your sleeping self right behind him.

In the huge bed, you look so tiny and vulnerable — the bedding looks like puffy clouds swallowing you up in dreamy white. But even in deep sleep, you don’t look at peace.

"Mngh…"

Your breathing is laborious as you toss and turn, so Adam thoughtfully glides his index finger along the curve of your body, sliding the long digit under the tightly wrapped strips of fabric and softly tugging on them to loosen up the dress. Almost instantaneously, your lungs take a greedy gulp of air once the pressure on your chest elevates, so fragile and alive…

Adam's hand goes to hover above your face, not yet daring to touch your pinkened cheeks. Instead, he starts small, carefully bringing his leathery fingers down towards soft, warm skin and brushing away a few hair strands that are obstructing his view. But that is when you unconsciously turn your head and nuzzle your cheek into his hand. Adam holds his breath as he watches you closely. Your lips look as mildly intoxicating as the wine you drank, seducing Adam into pressing his own to get a taste. Staring at you in such a way almost feels gluttonous, as if savouring you without your knowledge or consent is one of the sins God warned humanity about, an ever-tantalising morsel…

But just as Adam lowers his face to be merely a hair's breadth away, a feeling of doubt crosses his mind.

Did you drink the wine so that it would be easier to face him? And instead of kissing your lips, he ends up planting a lingering kiss beneath them — on your chin.

Adam's hand, which supports his weight and lays flat beside your head, grips the sheet in anger at himself. He hates himself for his childish dreams of wanting to be loved in this lifetime, for yearning to have someone breathe life into his mundane days, and for wishing for someone who would occupy his self-loathing mind with meaningless conversations.

"Mmm… Marcel…"

He loosens his grip on the sheet and sits up.

"And you, naturally, go and pick something forbidden." Sera's words echo inside Adam's head as if his own inner voice isn't taking enough space in it as it is.

Adam knew a thing or two about forbidden things. He understood how perilous they were and what misery they could bring him if he indulged in them, but there was also the indescribable sweetness that almost made it all better.

He takes your burnt hand into his own — your human skin sharply contrasting with the inky black of his palm — and covers the weeping wound in holy water. With his thumb, he gently moves the liquid back and forth until it all disappears, washing away the blood and pain while only leaving a scar. Hellfire was no joke.

After giving you one last look, Adam gets up from his seat and retreats back to his spot on the couch.

He indulged himself enough for one day.

» » »

It takes you a while to blink your sore eyes open — the room you are in is just too bright.

You toss and turn, pulling the sheets closer to you with involuntary movements. Slightly disoriented, you finally open your eyes, and as your brain connects the dots, the sleepy bliss disappears. You can feel your stomach drop at the realisation that all of it was not a nightmarish hallucination. The room is Adam’s bedroom, as in the first fucking man from the Bible, and you are in Heaven — a place, not a state of bliss.

"God, I’m so fucked." You groan while palming at your eyes. It takes you a few deep breaths in and out to calm yourself down, but once you do and roll to lie on your back, another problem makes itself known.

The wedding dress that had been so tightly wrapped around you yesterday is now just a pile of loose pieces of silk hastily draped over your body, leaving too much skin exposed to the chilly morning air and to anyone’s eyes if they decided to walk in the room. Most importantly, you had your new husband to watch out for, and as that realisation dawns on you, you sit up in the bed while hugging yourself, desperately searching around for something to use as a shield from his perverted gaze. Luckily, it doesn't take you long to spot a neatly folded fabric at the foot of the bed.

Scooting closer, you reach for the garment and unfold it to get a better look. The fabric is so silky smooth that it slides between your fingers like quicksilver. It is cold to the touch, but you have little choice; the other one is to walk naked, so putting on the new dress it is.

You glance at the door before standing up. With the remnants of your previous dress pooled around your legs, you pull the new one over your head. An involuntary shiver shakes your body, but with the help of your body heat, the fabric quickly warms up. If only everything could get better so swiftly.

The dress is more comfortable, less tight, and has long bell sleeves that leave only the tips of your fingers visible. Still no underwear, but beggars can't be choosers.

All dressed up, you plop back onto the bed, your hands fidgeting in your lap. Deep inside you, a conflict rages between your stubbornness and insatiable curiosity. The wine hangover helps the latter prevail, so you warily walk out of the room.

With your heart pounding, you trail your palm across the walls for support, listening for any noise and searching your mind for the appropriate words. How does one start a conversation in this kind of situation?

As you reach the corner behind which the living room resides, you stand up straighter, take a deep breath, and step forward with way more confidence than you feel at the moment.

Only to find the space empty. All that pep talk, only for Adam to be nowhere to be seen. Did he even come back home yesterday?

But instead of relief at the angel's absence, a cold, freezing feeling of dread washes over you, to the point it makes your skin prickle. Sure, you would prefer going back to your old life with no Adam in sight, but if you can’t, you are ready to accept your new normal. This is why, without Adam around, you feel the loneliness and emptiness that you felt when you got the news of Marcel’s passing.

Adam can't die like Marcel did, so his absence is intentional.

Brushing your hair away from your face, you turn your back towards the living room and face the darkness of the corridor with new resolve. You will do your best to make the most of this situation and use your husband’s absence to look for a way to bring your dead boyfriend back from Hell.

There is one more door further down that was left unexplored yesterday — the one you push open, allowing the morning sun to kiss you all over your face. It warms you up like a mother’s hug, and you feel a bit better until you see what type of room it is.

Jackpot.

The cosy home study houses two big bookcases and a desk area with a sizeable amount of drawers, which means ample space for storing something that could be useful to your cause.

The cosy home study houses two big bookcases and a desk area with a sizeable amount of drawers, which means ample space for storing something that could be useful to your cause. Given your affinity for reading, you naturally begin by scanning the leathery spines on the bookshelves.

Gold decorative elements on the spines give off a sense of elegance and luxury, but they emit any lettering that would hint at or spell out a title. When you hook your finger and drag one out of the row, it's a blind guess.

The book has some weight to it, which only adds to the impression of its value in all aspects, but as you open it, it lacks the one thing that is most precious to you. The high-quality paper is pleasant to the touch yet is worthless without any ink staining it.

You flip through the rest of the book, but all pages are like that — empty.

All the same, you painstakingly go through every book. You pick each one with the same exact care as the one before it, skimming through pages on the off chance that one of them will contain something, and after sifting through three shelves worth of books, you would choose any language over blank pages. But as you close the last one and put it on top of a pile, the reality sets in.

You believed that nothing could be more disheartening than finding yourself stranded far from home in a loveless marriage. That is, until now, as you sit on the ground, surrounded by nothing but empty leather shells and an emptier mind.

You stand up and begin putting everything back, and as you reach the last volume, you hug it close to your chest, refusing to accept defeat. Maybe I need some kind of looking glass to be able to read? This is Heaven after all, and naturally, a human couldn’t simply access something that might be deemed sensitive information.

With that, you turn toward the desk.

Come on, Mr. 'I’m so important' should have something useful in his freaking house.

The desk has paperwork in the drawers, but they look like basic forms that probably should have been filled out and signed.

I’m starting to think that either his importance is inflated or he actually doesn’t do anything.

You want to stay confident, but the revelation hits you in the gut. Despair, headache, and hunger unite their forces, and you slump into the armchair by the desk — defeated. It’s difficult to stay optimistic when everything seems to be working against you.

Having nothing else to do, you pick yourself up and give the room one last glance before stepping out and closing the door behind you.

And then your bad mood is only made worse by the unsurprisingly empty kitchen.

You swallow down the taste of nausea at the back of your tongue and turn to face the rest of the living space while leaning your back against the kitchen counter. As you gaze around, you chew at your bottom lip, debating if it’s time for self-cannibalism.

The coffee table is empty of any trash, so Adam must have come back for at least a second. Now the important question is what he did while he was home if he didn’t leave anything for his very alive wife.

Your eyes move to the side of the main area, where you maintain eye contact with another living thing in the apartment — the potted plants. Walking closer towards them, you sink your middle and index fingers into the pot, touching the soil to find it freshly watered.

So, he had half a mind to take care of the plants, but not you? Noted.

Hunger turns into anger as you storm towards the wine cellar to pick up a fresh bottle of poison.

You wonder if this is his tactic to make you succumb to him. Does he think that if he isolates you for a long enough period of time, you would jump in joy to see him, simply because you would crave that human connection? If so, he underestimates you greatly.

You will jump him alright, with a knife at hand.

You get comfortable on the couch, snuggling into the soft blankets. They smell like him, but the scent is surprisingly pleasant, so you don't mind it too much as you nurse a bottle of red wine and patiently wait.

Contrary to popular belief, you weren’t a confrontational person. You wished nothing less than to go back to the bedroom, mind your business, and wait till the next day for Adam to leave. Rinse and repeat. But no, you couldn’t afford that now. Now knowing that there is nothing of value to be found in the house pertaining to your plans, you have no choice but to be confrontational.

When you notice the first signs of the evening in the room, you put the half-empty bottle on the coffee table and begin slowly flipping through the empty pages of the book that you snatched from the decoy study. It's a poor attempt to make yourself get lost in thought, and it gives your fidgeting fingers something to do — not to mention it is more interesting than looking at a plain corner.

You wonder what time it is in Hell, and where Marcel is right now. Is he lying in bed just like you, thinking of you the way you are thinking of him? You know that he is, and that's what keeps you company. The knowledge that wherever he is now, he is with you in thoughts and memories — happy and sad ones. You now cherish every single one.

And that’s when the front door finally opens.

"Oh, you’re still awake?"

Adam is noticeably a bit surprised to find you sitting comfortably on the couch with a new wine bottle opened and standing tall on the coffee table. There’s a glass beside it, half full.

You glance up from the decoy book. "You hoped I wasn’t, huh?"

"Huh?" He dares to act confused.

"What’s your long-term goal? What’s the gain? You just tore me away from everything I once knew, only to leave me all on my own to navigate the land of the dead!" The sound that is created by you loudly closing the book acts like the exclamation mark to your abridged list of grievances, and when you — not so gently — throw it on the coffee table, it reopens and displays the nothingness you have been looking at this whole time. It's a silent testament — one of many — to just how much effort Adam put into caring for you. So much, in fact, that he couldn't even provide you with something to occupy your time. But that is the least of his offences.

He finally closes the door behind him.

"You bitches are so fucking emotional, fuck. Can’t even step properly inside."

Silence.

You are now looking at Adam through your furrowed eyebrows, chewing on the skin of your lips in deep thought. Thank God you threw the book before he spoke; he can practically see the murder plans brewing inside your pretty little head.

And then you smile, falling back onto the couch and rolling around like it is the most comfortable thing in the entire world — it isn't, which is why your words sound even more condescending.

"That’s a lovely couch you have there. Is that why you sleep on it instead of the bed?"

"...what?"

"Why don't you sleep in your bed?"

"I— uh, didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I may be a dick—"

"No," you shake your head, leaning back against the backrest with your arms crossed. "You didn’t sleep there before me either."

"Pff, and you would know?"

"Why?" You ignore his fake display of cockiness.

"Why what—"

"You know damn well what I’m getting at. Don't act stupid, and do yourself a favour by not openly showing that you are not the brightest star in the sky. What’s wrong with the bed?" You would guess that the mask adorning his face serves a specific purpose. Without a doubt, it serves as an accessory on the battlefield, but its constant use leads you to believe that the man in front of you likes to hide his true feelings behind it. Too bad that his mask is just as expressive as the skin he hides underneath it. "It’s not a weakness to admit pain, you know? Talk to me." Give me something to work with...

"Listen, babe, I think this role of a ‘wife’ is getting into your head, as does the holy wine. I think you had enough of that, don’t you?"

He takes the bottle away from you before you can snatch it.

"Maybe leave me with food next time if you don’t want me drinking! How else am I supposed to sustain myself?!"

"Definitely not with liquid, and for your information, holy wine sustains the soul, not your mortal body, dumbass."

"Keyword — mortal! You want me to die?!"

As you scream at one another with such a hefty distance between you two, the situation kind of seems hilarious, if it wasn’t so fucked up.

"Sorry, I didn’t know that I couldn’t leave you by yourself for five fucking minutes as if you were a child! You know you’re free to roam around, little dove? The cage," he turns around and reopens the front door for effect. "Is unlocked."

"As if I will venture to a place that I know nothing about!"

"That didn’t stop you from going to the fucking Hell! Heaven is where you draw the line?! It’s the safest place there is, for fuck sake!"

In your fury-addled state of mind, you stand up on the couch, your bare feet sinking into the plush cushions.

"Maybe the sound doesn’t travel up to that height or you are just as empty as the books in your study, but all the same, let me rephrase my words. Ever think that it would be just as scary as a human to be around angels as it would be surrounded by demons?"

It turns out that wanting compassion out of the first man is useless.

"If only I knew beforehand that you would nag so much."

And for someone as primordial as the Earth itself, Adam comes across as very callow.

"You call me wanting to understand my husband more nagging? Or is it the part where I ask for basic human necessities?!"

It takes him exactly three steps to stand face to face with you. Your breath is visible on his mask.

"Oh, you want to do your wifely duties so badly?" He coo’s at you patronisingly, his voice so flat it makes you shiver in fear. "How about we start with consummating our marriage, hm?"

The words reach the desired reaction as Adam watches your face grow noticeably pale.

"Nothing to say? Can I speak now, or are you going to scream some more?"

You swallow the lump in your throat, tasting defeat. Once again, you lose the shiny spark of hope in your eyes, and Adam swears that the room grows darker just like the colour of your iris.

"I never thought I would have to fight for a marriage I didn’t even want. Why marry me if you have no need nor time for another person? If I wasn’t in a new environment and actually knew someone else who wasn’t you, believe me, I wouldn’t be begging for your company. You are not the prize you think you are. I’m a fish you plucked out of water and threw in a glass with water because, according to you, that’s everything a fish needs — something to breathe."

Adam doesn't stop you from climbing off the couch, nor does he run after you as you slink towards the bedroom.

After gently closing the door, you press yourself against it and slide down until the dress pools around you. You hide your face in your knees and let out a shaky breath. This is your life now: living in a place that will never be your home, surrounded by creatures who will never understand you. Even if these souls once were humans, they have long forgotten what it feels like — Adam is a wonderful example of that.

You don't know if you slept that night. You only know that your eyes were already open when the first rays of the morning sun started spilling into the bedroom. Everything is foggy in your mind as nightmares mix up with reality, until the line becomes so blurred that you don't know where one ends and where the other begins.

After stupidly wasting too much time pressed against the door, you finally exit the bedroom when, to your relief and irritation, Adam is nowhere to be heard again. You don’t want to see his face after yesterday, but his absence also means that he didn’t care about anything you said to him — or about you, for that matter.

As you make your way through the empty apartment, the presence of the study behind you is almost palpable — mocking you behind your back for naively believing it would be of any use to you. However, you won't let a small disappointment deter you from seeking a way out of here.

Sure, being able to find everything you need in one place that you have complete access to would be ideal, but life is never this easy, and the afterlife, being an extension of it, is no different. Nonetheless, you already are planning what your next course of action is going to be, and for it to work out, all you need is to find out where Adam works and think of a diversion so he doesn't question you too much. Of course, on top of everything, having bravery would be an advantage, but it's not a requirement.

And just like the sun comes out after every storm, something in your peripheral vision catches your attention, leading to a growling stomach and a spark of sudden inspiration.

Surprisingly, Adam took into consideration your mortality and left you with a plethora of ingredients — killing two birds with one stone by providing you with something to eat and entertainment in the form of cooking. This is also the moment when you decide what you will use as a diversion in your plan.

Maybe you could slowly make Adam trust you over time, or, even better, somehow infiltrate the circle he’s frequenting until you get the useful information. But you are not known for being patient — determined and stubborn is a more correct description. And as you shove a freshly baked muffin into your mouth while putting the rest into one of the containers you've found, you hype yourself to finally leave the comfort of the apartment, despite your stomach churning with anxiety.

He wants you to venture outside on your own? You will… you will…

And you do.

Until now, you didn't have a chance to truly observe Heaven, but one thing is for certain — you look terribly out of place here.

It’s a very surreal experience, as though you've journeyed into the distant future. Perhaps it's because of all the Renaissance paintings you familiarised yourself with during your frequent visits to local museums and art galleries, but you truly believed that Heaven would have more fields filled with freely roaming animals rather than the anthropomorphic ones who are actually not so subtly staring at you as you pass them by.

Their reactions to you kind of explain the reason behind Adam's hideous mask. He did feel quite human looking underneath it, and judging by the looks you're getting, that's not a very common appearance around here.

"Excuse me, could you tell me where I could find the first man?" You turn and direct your question at the first unfortunate winner you encounter, who appears to resemble a lamb. She even bleats like one, noticeably frightened by your presence and straightforwardness.

However, she is in heaven for a reason. The beautiful angel, unable to turn away a person in need, with a soft, high-pitched voice accompanying her hoof points towards one of the glass buildings and says, "You should find him there."

No maybes are muttered, only an assured statement as her white face blushes golden.

"Thank you."

But you don't care for nuances. Ultimately, you are simply content that you now know for certain where to look for Adam — inside of a particularly tall glass building outside which you now stand.

When you push the door open, its surface fogs up from your warm touch, leaving noticeable fingerprints behind. You tug on the sleeve of your dress and attempt to clean the smudging off, but it seems to only make the mess bigger and, in turn, more visible. Your skin prickles with hot embarrassment as you almost drop the box with your baked goods while trying to fix up the mess.

"Oh, sweetheart, where did your halo go?"

Startled, you jump a bit, causing the door to slam shut with a glass-rattling bang. Seeing no one at your eye level, you glance down to look at a small animal-like creature near your feet. The small sheep angel looks like what grape candy tastes like, dressed in various shades of periwinkle from head to hoof.

Before you can answer him, another voice cuts into the conversation.

"Obviously she’s human, Collin!"

You turn your head to see who the second voice belongs to and notice another tiny guy, but this one looks like a chubby human baby and a more familiar version of the small angels you have seen being depicted in paintings before. These small creatures are cherubim.

"H-human? In Heaven?!" The sheep cherub is soft-spoken, his voice remaining on the lower side even as he shouts.

"If I may ask," you clear your throat to catch the attention of the little cherubims. "Where could I find, um, Adam?"

But they just take the information you have given them and ignore your question entirely.

"It's not surprising that the first man allowed a human to roam freely around Heaven." The more human-looking cherub puffs out his tummy and huffs while crossing his tiny hands in front of his chest.

"Cletus! You shouldn’t speak that way!"

That's when you feel someone tug on your free hand, the one with your wedding ring on.

"So the rumours are true…" the baby cherub whispers underneath his little button nose while the timid sheep jumps into action and finally gives you what you wanted.

"He’s currently at a meeting but should be back soon! You can wait in his office! It’s— actually let me write it down for you!"

With the directions written down in great detail, it doesn't take you long to reach your destination. You give a knock first, in the off chance that Adam got back, and you would have to execute your original plan. You don’t want to — it’s easier if he’s not there — but you will do anything for this to succeed.

The door is unsurprisingly unlocked, and when you step inside and look around, it all suddenly clicks to you. No wonder Adam doesn’t come home.

Adam's workspace looks like what one might expect a person's home to look like. It’s cosy and warm, filled to the brim with character, as each element conveys a deeper meaning without the need for Adam's voice. Now you know where he keeps his guitars or where he writes his music. And the furniture — now you notice that you haven’t seen any wooden furnishings anywhere else apart from Adam’s home and now his office. Everything else around Heaven is cold to the touch and glassy. You can't help but wonder if he builds everything himself.

You finally snap out when the door, no longer being held by you, snaps close shut with a loud bang.

Right, you should probably get going.

However, there are even fewer things to be found here. It's all the same unfinished paperwork you have seen back in his home study, but this time there's not even a decorative bookcase filled with empty books to at least create an illusion.

You halt in your step when you hear footsteps and the sound of Adam’s voice nearby.

When the doors open, you are like a deer caught in headlights. You find yourself standing in the middle of the office, with no time or opportunity to hide. You guess there is no other choice for you but to go along with the original plan.

Another angel accompanies Adam; she resembles Lute in her attire, yet her complexion is darker and her hair is longer, with curls cascading down to her chest. She is standing flush with the taller angel as if attempting to squeeze through the narrow doorway at the same time as Adam. But although he is guiding her away from him, he’s doing so with softness and a light-hearted laugh while the smaller angel seems to drink up the affection with glowing cheeks.

You know you shouldn’t feel the way you do, but you can’t help but feel your heart squeezing up at the sight. And just as you consider ducking to hide under Adam's desk, he suddenly looks in your direction, and his face falls.

"Oh! Hello?" The female angel looks you up and down, craning her head a little bit to the side. "You must be one of the girls from the temples, right? I can’t believe the outdated dresses they make you wear there."

Somehow that stung, even though you didn’t choose your clothing yourself. You started getting used to them, this particular dress being quite comfortable and pretty in its own way, but now you just felt even more like a fool. It didn’t help that you already felt self-conscious — being a human and not an angel. In their eyes, dying could turn you into a sinner, implying that you didn't belong here. But also being branded as old-fashioned for your clothing was definitely a final nail in your imaginary coffin.

Was Adam thinking the same way? Sure, he married you, but perhaps the Hell’s lighting played tricks on him, and now he realises after the fact just how unattracted he is to you. In the Archangel’s office, it was dark too. It would only make sense—

Wow, your self-esteem got really hit. That is the only explanation why you would care what he thinks.

You don’t say anything to her, just raise your hand so your palm is hovering above your head and move it back and forth to show the lack of a halo. This finally catches her attention, and with wide eyes and a meek apology, she leaves you and Adam alone in the room.

"How did you get in here?"

Adam doesn't sound frustrated with you, so that’s a relief. You swallow down any unsavoury words you might be tempted to say and grab a box of muffins from his desk.

"I took up your offer and went for a walk, also thought I would bring you this," you present him with the baked goods. "Think of it as a peace treaty."

He still looks sceptical, so you bite your inner cheek, put the box back on the wooden surface, and move toward Adam with slow steps.

"I’m really sorry for how I acted last night." There is only a small gap between you two as you, without looking away from his masked face, drop to your knees and sit down so that your butt rests on the heels of your feet. "What do you say, let's start over?"

Afraid he would start thinking too much when you want him to not do that, you don't wait for his answer and bring your hands to grasp both of his clothed thighs. You gather the fabric of his robe in your fists, pulling the garment up — all the while maintaining eye contact.

You feel Adam's fingers wrap around one of your wrists, which motivates you to now undo his belt. However, before you can do anything, Adam effortlessly pulls you up.

"You think I’m that dumb, wifey?" He tugs you by your arm until you are leaning against his stomach. "Save the last bit of your dignity and go home. You want me to believe, after the blowout of yesterday’s night, that suddenly you’re so head over heels for me while shaking like a leaf? Please."

But that’s what finally does it for you.

You free your wrist from his grasp and make your way towards the door without saying another word. You don't give a damn about where you're going or where you should go. At this moment, all you want is to reach the end of Heaven and jump off it. You didn't want to see Adam or the judgemental glances of angels and winners as you passed them by.

But just as you are about to reach for a handle, Adam — not wanting this to happen in a place that everyone can see — opens a portal where the door is, and that makes you fall through it straight onto the couch in the living room of your shared apartment.

"Are you really that upset about me not wanting to take advantage of you?" Adam yells as he steps through the portal himself.

"You are quite comfortable taking everything else from me, so I don’t see the problem with that, but no, for your information, that is the least I’m upset about." You sneer back at him. "Did my presence in Hell truly offend you this much that you decided to curse me for a life of misery?"

"Life of misery? Is that what you call a marriage you consented to?!" Adam instantly regrets his outburst. It was always so easy to cast the blame away from himself. Usually, he wasn't at fault, but your solemn face tells a different story. He made a huge mistake.

"I did, huh." With that, you push yourself up from the couch and turn to leave.

That’s when Adam grows desperate, scrambling to get you closer. He quickly gets back into your line of sight in an attempt to grab your hand.

"What do you want me to say?! That I didn’t think it through when I married you?? Bitches fall on their knees for me! They love me! What makes you so different? For your information, I take wedding wows extremely seriously, and I’m not some kind of monster to touch you when you don’t want me to. I–I didn’t want to come onto you and make you uncomfortable." Adam can't even bear to look you into your eyes. "I wanted your loyalty, that unrelenting devotion for myself. I didn’t think it through. I thought, at that moment, that I could take it, but it was never mine to take. But here you are, bending over backwards, trying to prove something! Is he really worth all of this? Do you think you are so brave for doing something like this? Sacrificing yourself for nothing?"

"For nothing?! I'm doing this for love! Love IS a sacrifice, and I sacrificed being with Marcel because I love him enough to give my life and future for him when I don’t even know if he’s alive. That’s how much I love him." You scream at Adam as if your loud voice would finally get through him, but he doesn't even look in your direction. He leaves you to stare at your own reflection in his dark, shiny cheek. "Everyone deserves love, but you devoid yourself of it on your own. I accepted my fate! I really wanted to know you more, see from your perspective, and what did I get in return?! You treated me like a joke!"

"I don’t want this to just be bearable for you! I don’t want to see you because I can’t bear looking at someone who is just okay to be here!"

"What’s even the point of wearing that mask if you can’t even look me in the eyes while saying that I’m just a mistake you made?"

"I know that you hate me. It would be so unbelievably stupid of you if you didn't, and that’s why it’s easier if you direct all of your hate towards this," he points to his masked face. "Than the real thing."

You two stand so close to one another — too close — but neither of you moves away for a while. Adam can hear your breathing, but that's it.

And that's when one of you makes a move — you walk around him. Adam tries to grab you again, but you yank your arm away.

"At least hate me like you did before. I need you to feel some type of way, anything but indifferent… please. Scream and shout, but don’t stay silent."

He hates the silence.

You stop, but don't turn around to face him.

"All I can do is pity you. You are your worst enemy, Adam."

Back in the bedroom, you tear the dress off your body and fall onto the bed. You curl in on yourself and burry your face into the fluffy sheets, soaking them in your fury-fuelled tears while screaming all of the frustration away. Your head is a mess, and your heart is too.

Helpless — you feel so helpless.

#adam x you #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel x reader #adam

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mileycyprus-hill · 19 days ago

Text

The Heart of Gondor

Boromir x female reader

Summary: Set after Boromir's conversation with Aragorn in Lothlorien following the fall of Gandalf. As the 10th walker of the Fellowship and longtime comrade of the Captain of Gondor, you rest with Boromir and share a moment of comfort with him, asking him questions about his childhood - specifically his mother as he rarely spoke of her. Boromir finally opens up about his mother for the first time.

Tags/Warnings: no warnings, just fluff and romance.

———————————

Tell me, what was she like...your mother?" Your question travels softly to Boromir's ears. Your voice is tender, like a breeze rustling through the leaves of Lothlórien. In the gentle glow of candlelight, your eyes shimmer like pools of earnest curiosity, reflecting the flickering white lights and the deep, ancient sorrow that dwelled within the heart of Boromir.

Boromir sits across from you, the light casting shadows that dance across his rugged features. The shadows seemed to come alive, whispering tales of valor and loss. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword, but his grip is loose, as if the weight of the weapon had become too much to bear, and his thoughts were far from the battlefield. For a moment, the world outside these woods - the ceaseless war, the burdens of leadership - all faded into the background. In this quiet, intimate space, he is merely a man speaking of his past and memories to a woman he secretly adores.

"She was…" Boromir began, his voice rough with the echoes of old grief, "a woman of grace and strength. Her name was Finduilas, and she was the heart of our home."

You sit upon a cushion on the forest floor before him and listen with your full attention, as if enraptured. Unbeknownst to you, your presence is soothing; a balm to his calloused soul. You have been his companion on this perilous journey, a steadfast friend who has given him comfort in his darkest moments. Boromir had rarely ever spoken about his mother to you, but your curiosity was both a gentle nudge and a silent invitation to finally open himself to you.

Boromir leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze distant as if he were peering into a mirror of memory. "She was a daughter of the house of Dol Amroth. Her beauty was renowned, but it was not just her appearance that captivated those around her. It was her spirit, her kindness, and her wisdom. She had a grace that went beyond mere physical beauty."

He paused, drawing a deep breath, as if to steady himself against the tide of memories that threatened to overwhelm him. He feels you watching him closely, as if you're sensing the deep well of emotion that lays beneath his stoic exterior.

"In those days," he continued, "our home was full of laughter and light. She would sing to us in the evening, her voice like a melody that lingered in the air long after the last note had faded. She had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic. I remember the way she would kneel beside me and Faramir, her hands gently brushing our hair as she told us stories of old."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but it was bittersweet. "She would speak of the stars and the moon, of the ancient forests and the seas. She had a knowledge of things beyond the reach of our young minds, and she shared that with us as if it were the most precious gift."

Boromir pauses to look into your eyes. He sees them shine with empathy and understanding. Boromir is offering not just a recollection of his mother but a piece of his soul, a glimpse into a world that had been lost to him. You reach out, placing a comforting hand over his. Your touch is light and reassuring.

"Tell me more about her," you encourage him softly.

Boromir’s gaze drops to your joined hands, the warmth of your touch grounding him. "She was everything a young boy could ask for in a mother," he said, his voice carrying the weight of both his sorrow and his love. "She wished for us to find happiness and peace. She hoped that we would grow up to be honorable and just, and that we would live our lives filled with purpose."

His eyes grew distant once more, as if he could see his mother's face before him, illuminated by the pale light. "She believed in the goodness of people, even in the darkest of times. I remember her saying that the true measure of a man is not how he faced victory but how he endured adversity."

There was a long silence, filled only by the mournful song of the elves and the gentle rustling of leaves. Your eyes hold steady, your presence a steadying force in the storm of his emotions.

"And your father?" You ask gently, your voice breaking the silence with a note of curiosity and concern. "What is he like?"

Boromir’s expression grew solemn. "My father, Denethor, is a man of great strength and ambition. He is fiercely dedicated to Gondor, to protecting our people. But, true dedication often comes at a cost. He is a ruler, and the weight of his responsibility sometimes...pushes him away from those he loves."

He looks back at you once more, his eyes shadowed with pain. "The relationship between my mother and father was complicated. While they loved each other deeply, the pressures of leadership created a rift between them. My mother tried to bridge the gap, to bring warmth and light into our lives...despite the heavy shadow that loomed over our family."

There was a softness in his gaze as he continued. "Her memory is what keeps Faramir and myself together, though Faramir was much too young when she passed. She reminded us of the beauty in the world, even when my father's prophetic speeches seemed to overshadow everything. Her love was like a beacon in the dark, guiding us through the trials of our lives."

"It sounds like she was a remarkable woman," you say softly. "A true light in the darkness."

Boromir’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a sense of relief, as if he had finally shared a burden that had been too heavy to carry alone. "She was," he agrees quietly. "And her memory continues to guide me, even in the darkest of times."

You continue to sit together in silence, while the lights of Lothlorien cast a cool glow around you. The shadows of the night seem less daunting now, the weight of Boromir's memories lightened by the act of sharing them.

A small, genuine smile touches Boromir's lips as he moves closer to you. "Thank you, my lady," he says.

You blink your eyes at him in confusion. Why should he thank you when you're the one who asked him?

As if answering your unspoken question, Boromir says, "It is a gift to have someone who listens. Given our task in this journey, it is easy to forget the simple comforts of companionship and understanding."

Your knees graze against his as you close the gap between the two of you, taking both of his hands into your own. "I am honored to be here with you, Captain Boromir," you reply. "And I hope to always be your steadfast companion."

Boromir's eyes widen with sudden realization. From this moment, he is confirmed that his romantic feelings of adoration for you is not unrequited, but mutual.

Gazing into your eyes, he feels a spiritual bond is forged—an established connection of shared understanding, empathy, and the quiet strength that comes from knowing and being known.

All that is left now is to seal the bond. Like a flower reaching for the warmth of the sun, Boromir leans into you and presses his lips against yours, his heart blooming in his chest from the feeling. A swarm of emotions swirl within him: joy, curiosity, fear, and excitement. The fear is quickly subdued and overcome with excitement and curiosity once he feels your lips reciprocate his kiss.

The night stretches on, filled with the promise of new beginnings and the echoes of old memories. As the two of you sit together in each other's embrace, the world outside seems a little less daunting, the burdens of your quest momentarily lightened by the simple, profound act of sharing a piece of each others hearts.

#I might continue this one #idk #I need more emotionally vulnerable Boromir #and more stories about his mother #boromir #boromir x reader #boromir x female reader #lotr #lotr fanfic

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yuurivoice · 2 months ago

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Hi Yuuri I just wanted to say I miss Howell. That’s all I hope you have a good day😊

I do too! There's still a lot about him I want to know and figure out. I was able to delve into him a bit more (and get some much needed closure) with some friends. I don't think he's really a character that I want to do various iterations of in different worlds and campaigns, because it's that specific story of his that I love. If it's removed from that world and story, I'd rather have another shot at a new character.

I was able to salvage a couple of relationships out of the rubble from the entire ordeal surrounding TnD, and I've got no beef with anyone who wasn't literal human trash, so Howell's place in my heart is unscathed in terms of being attached to a really shitty time and situation.

Reflecting on those days, that shit was a nightmare scenario. Obviously my own emotional turmoil pales in comparison to the literal criminal and victim in our midst, don't get that twisted because those most directly impacted by one asshole's actions should be the primary concern. It is a hell of a pill to swallow having something that dear to you go up in flames in such a public and grotesque way.

I don't blame anyone who feels any type of way about how it was handled and the aftermath of it. The truth of it all is, one person's really fucked up actions had widespread effects on a lot of people. The radius of that bomb was no joke.

Howell is very dear to me, and those Sundays were genuinely the favorite day of the week for me over that time. The backlash, anger, resentment, and then emptiness of it all really took its toll, as I'm sure it did on everyone caught in the blast zone.

The bad guy got got in the end, and I'm thankful for the folks who made sure that happened.

That year as a whole was really difficult. That wasn't the only heavy thing I had to work through that year. There was a stretch of six months that were probably the worst of my adult life in terms of interpersonal turmoil. The universe really took a bat to my kneecaps.

Saying ALLLLLLLL of that to say, if I had lost my love for Howell, it would have taken a significant toll on me creatively. I would not so freely share the parts of myself it takes to create the stories and characters I do now. I can pretty confidently say that something like Echoes or Shattered would never happen.

I struggled mightily with BitterSweet Chapter 3 for that reason. It was hard to want to carve out pieces of myself to share with the world, and certainly very difficult to work with anyone else out of fear that their bad actions could rob me of my passion even more.

But I learned a lot, and over that time I also think I was able to show my community how serious situations get handled while I'm at the helm. I hate that me and the team have been on the frontlines of a few really serious community PR nightmares, but I do think we've been able to exhibit an ability to treat things with maturity, respect, and direct action.

So Howell means a lot to me. We've been on two journeys, one fictional, and one real...and boy we've gotten our asses kicked more than a few times.

There is a chance, albeit a small one, that there's a DnD story to be told with Howell and some friends, for the world to partake in. Don't know if it'll happen, but the chances aren't 0%...

#it's okay if y'all literally don't know wtf i'm talking about #just trust that Howell was really cool #and those times were really fucked up #there is a small handful of followers who were around #and i don't know if they even fw me and related folks like that now lol #i haven't really talked about this much publicly so #there's that i suppose

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daggerspare-standingby · 2 months ago

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THE CHASE - Part 8 | Hangman X Reader

I’m so sorry for the long wait on this part. There’s been a lot happening for me the last little while. I turned 30 yesterday and it was a bittersweet day for me. Lots of tears this whole week.

As always, thank you so much for the support and love on this story and in general! It means the world to me. Picking up where we left off and getting a little spicy! Thanks @dizzybee03 for helping me through my plot block!

Warnings; teasing, dry humping, I don’t think there’s anything else but I’m posting from my phone so maybe? Let me know if there’s something I missed!

PART 8

“Well then, what are you waiting for Seresin? Kiss me.” Jake’s brain must have short circuited. Looking at you standing in front of him, in that adorable looking sundress, the half drank beer bottle hanging from your fingers, asking him to kiss you. He stood up, the glow of the flames flickering across both of your faces, as your eyes searched his face, he searched yours. He lifted his hand to brush his knuckles against the apples of your cheeks, warm from the sun and the fire. “Are you sure Darlin? Once we do this, there isn’t any going back.” You met his gaze head on, the flames from the bonfire reflecting in your intense stare. Jake cupped your cheek and pulled you closer to him, his other hand snaking around your waist as his lips slanted against yours in a soft kiss. You brought your arms up around his neck and held yourself closer to him, kissing back.

Neither of you heard any of the whistles, cheers and “told you so’s” that were emanating from the group, you were so wrapped up in the feel of each other. You feeling the warmth of Jake’s body against your front and the heat of the fire against your back, the softness of his lips on yours as he maintained a PDA safe kiss, the smell of wood burning, mixed with his signature cinnamon and sandalwood scent and combined with coconut and salt from the lotion you’d both applied throughout the day. It was perfect in your mind. When he pulled away from you slowly, your eyes fluttered open, meeting his sincere gaze “guess there’s no going back now Darlin’” You smiled and shook your head “guess not”. You both turned to face your friends, hands intertwined. Bradley was grinning ear to ear, Natasha who looked partially disgusted because “Bagman?! Really?” You rolled your eyes with a smile that she returned before glaring at Jake and poking him in his ridiculously solid chest “be good to her Bagman, if Penny loses another bartender, she’ll kill you. But this one’s actually our friend too so if you break her heart I’ll break you.” You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at her threat and gave her a hug “thanks for having my back Nat.” Javy was the only one who was grinning like the cat that got the cream, as he approached Jake and gave him a strong slap on the shoulder and then pulled him into a hug and said quietly into his ear “I’m proud of you, man.” He then pulled you into a hug too, lifting you up off the ground “finally!” You laughed and patted his back “thanks Javy.” Jake smirked “get your hands off my girlfriend, Machado.” Javy grinned at him and set you back down, “you have no idea how long he’s been waiting to say that.” You looked at Jake whose cheeks were tinted pink and you leaned into his side, relishing in the warmth from his body heat and the fire. You two returned to your seats by the fire and the rest of the squad joined you, breaking off into their own conversations.

This was not what you had expected to happen on your day off. In less than 12 hours you got asked out by a friend, a new boyfriend, and all your friends had found out about the relationship. After a whirlwind day and the blazing heat on the beach, being sat next to a roaring fire and Jake’s warm body beside you, you began dozing off. Only when the warm beer was removed from your slackening grip and a pair of even warmer arms were wrapped around you and you were lifted up did you start to rouse briefly, before the warm smell of sandalwood and cinnamon, smokiness and coconut sunscreen lulled you back under. “I’ll get her home, thanks Phoenix.” Jake’s tone was hushed, as to not wake you as he lifted you easily into his arms, Coyote had grabbed both of your bags and walked ahead of him to the truck to open the passenger door for him to set you inside. Once he had you buckled in, he closed the door and gave Javi a bro hug before climbing in himself and pulling out of the parking lot towards your place.

You felt it as soon as his truck stopped in front of your place, but you kept your eyes closed to relish in the feeling of his warm embrace. You heard him rustling around and when he got out of the truck but it took longer than it should have for him to come around to your side, you almost opened your eyes to check, but as you were about to you heard him on the opposite side of the door, opening it and reaching in to unbuckle you. “Come on sunshine” he scooped you into his arms easily, as if you weighed nothing and carried you right up the front steps and into the house. He kicked the door closed and that's when you realized he must have gone to open the door before coming to get you. He brought you into your bedroom and you squeaked when he tossed you onto the bed not so gracefully. Your eyes shot open and you were met with his shit eating grin “you snore Darlin’.” Your mouth dropped in mock shock but didn’t stay that way long as you began giggling “sorry, the heat must have knocked me out” You sat up on your knees and moved towards him, almost eye to eye with him while you were kneeling on the bed and he was standing, it sent shivers up your spine. “I should get going…” He didn’t look convinced at his own words, in fact you were sure it wouldn’t take anything to get him to stay. His hands were stuffed deep in his pockets and he was looking at you with such tenderness that it made your heart ache a little. You brushed your fingers along his cheek softly as your eyes met his and you said quietly “stay…” You saw his resolve crumbling behind the green of his eyes and you moved a little closer to him, letting your other hand rest against his chest “please?”

Jake was a goner. He was so hooked on you that you could probably ask him to do any number of things that would get him kicked out of the Navy and he’d happily do it just to see the smile on your face. When you asked him to stay and added the small please after, coupled with your hands on him, he nearly let the moan that was buried deep in his chest escape. Instead he slipped his hands out of his pockets and around your waist, as he pulled you the rest of the way in for a breathtaking kiss, figuring that if his mouth was busy he wouldn’t say something stupid like ‘I love you’ or ‘will you marry me’ both of which were bouncing around in his primitive brain because he knew deep in his bones that he wanted to make you his forever. But he couldn’t scare you. So he kissed you, with everything in his body that he could muster. It was so forceful that you fell back on the bed, pulling him on top of you and giggling, as he chased your lips with his. You ran your hands through his sun kissed tresses and he instantly felt the tension ease out of his body and you couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped you at the feel of his weight on you, even though he was careful not to crush you. At that sound, a sound that of course went straight south, he pulled away, sitting back on his knees looking at you spread out below him, chest heaving, dress slightly askew, eyes wild and cheeks pink. He wanted to burn this image into his mind forever. You reached back up for him, your hand running down his chest over his t-shirt before your fingers slipped underneath it brushing against his abs. He inhaled sharply “Darlin’”

The look you gave him should have struck him dead if he was anyone else, but he was Jake, and he was a little turned on when a girl was mean to him. “Don’t you Darlin’ me Seresin.” You sat up, legs still mostly pinned between his thighs. “We are both consenting adults, and I’m positive I don’t have to explain to you that there are a number of things that we can do without having sex.” He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. God he was obsessed with you. He cupped your face tenderly as he leaned down to capture your lips in a soft kiss that was very much Jake and not Hangman at all. “I just wanted to make sure you were sure of what you wanted to do.” You looked up at him with an eyebrow raised, before you pushed up his shirt and took it off him before tossing it somewhere in your room “I’m sure, so so sure.” Your hands found their way to his shoulders as you pulled him back down on top of you, lips finding their way together like magnets.

Jake was positive there would be no other feeling better than your lips on his, and the way your waist was seemingly molded to his hands like it was carved out just for him. Your entire body just fit with his like a puzzle piece and the sounds you made as he let his hands roam your form made him never want to stop touching you. Somehow, you had rolled the two of you so he was pressed against your mattress and you were atop him, straddling his hips. He knew you could feel his erection and he was about to pull away to adjust when you pressed yourself with more force and let a breathless moan slip from your lips. He tensed under you, causing you to pull further away to look at him as you continued to slightly move your hips against him, essentially dry riding his erection. The wink you shot him before letting your head tip back told him you knew exactly what you were doing and doing it on purpose. His hands slipped down your waist to your hips as he helped to guide you, mesmerized by the way your body was moving, lost in the way you knew what you wanted, and the way you took it while still honoring the fact that he wanted to wait a little longer before actually sleeping with you. And when you finally came undone, with all your clothes on, he was able to see exactly how your body reacted; the sheen of sweat along your chest and neck, the way your hands had cupped your tits just before you came, the way your eyes closed and mouth opened in a silent o, and he felt your thigh muscles tighten around his waist and then immediately relax as soon as you came. He filed that away in his memory bank for next time because he wanted to make sure you always had that reaction with him. He was so caught up in watching you he didn’t feel his own release building up until it was too late. “Oh shit.”

Your body was wound so tightly, everything about him surrounded your senses and that alone was almost enough to make you cum. The way he helped guide your hips as you dry humped him, the small squeeze he gave to your thighs at random moments when he probably thought you weren’t going to notice, the way his green eyes never left your face for a moment, and of course the way his length was hard as a rock beneath you, everything coupled together made for a perfect storm and with another swirl of your hips you came for him, soaking your swimsuit bottoms and likely his too.

Your body shook with spasms of aftershocks as Jake pulled you down against his chest, hands immediately running up and down your back and muttered praises into your ear. “Shh I’ve got you baby, such a good girl, I’ve got you.” You let out a small whimper at the “good girl” and then went nearly boneless on top of him. “M’sorry, gimme a minute” you mumbled into his neck as he just continued rubbing your back and let out a soft chuckle “when you’re ready”. He was still semi-hard between your legs and another shiver ran through you at the thought of his stamina. After a few minutes, you pushed yourself up slightly with your hands on his chest, and pressed your lips to his lightly. It seemed he read your mind because before you could move your hands lower on his chest and mutter “your turn”, he grabbed your wrists and held your palms flat on his pecs “this is about you Darlin’. I’m good.” As you were about to protest he silenced you with a kiss “really, I’m good to just lay here with you.” You just about melted into a puddle at his words “but-” He shook his head “no buts.” You realized you weren’t going to win any argument with him, so you settled for climbing off his lap “I’m going to go shower and brush my teeth… I’ll leave an extra toothbrush for you” He nodded and watched as you made your way into the ensuite bathroom and left the door a tiny bit open as an invitation.

Once you were in the bathroom Jake relaxed into the pillows and ran his hands over his face and through his hair. How did he just cum in his shorts like a fucking teenager. When he heard the water turn on in the shower, he stood up and removed his soaked swim trunks, he couldn’t tell what was yours and what was his and it was low key hot as fuck. As he was about to grab a fresh pair of boxer briefs from his duffel, he paused, eyes moving to the bathroom door that you left partially open. He stood up straight and before his brain could talk him out of it, walked into the bathroom with as much confidence as he could muster to join you in the shower.

You were humming along to a tune in your head and Jake watched your shadow on the curtain for a brief moment as you brought your hands up to run them through your hair. You looked like you had your back to the curtain, face under the spray, so he took advantage and pulled back the curtain and stepped in behind you, pulling the curtain closed again. His hands immediately found their way to your waist and he gave himself a little distance between your bodies, as much as he could being in a confined shower stall. He was mesmerized by the way the water trailed down your back and your ass was a lot cuter naked than it was in any piece of clothing he’d seen you in. Jake’s hands found their way to your waist, leaving goosebumps in their wake as you brought your hands down to meet his before you looked at him over your shoulder, fighting the urge to cast your glance downwards “I’m glad you joined me”. He pressed a small kiss to your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him as he reached for the loofah with one hand, soaping it up and beginning to run it across your back and shoulders “i’m glad I did too, you have a really cute butt.” You giggled “Jake Seresin, are you an ass man?” He shrugged “only for you.” He continued sudsing you up and you let your body relax into it, enjoying the comfortable silence. He guided your body under the warm spray again to rinse off and you turned to face him, arms wrapping around his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Will you stay tonight?” He wanted to laugh, as if he could leave you now. He would stay with you even if it meant getting up at 4 am to be on base at 6. He pressed his lips against your again “of course, Darlin. I think you’re going to have a hard time gettin’ rid of me now that you let me in.” You giggled and ran your hands along his shoulders, marveling at how normally you were hardened against men’s advances, but with Jake here in your house, touching you so gently, you turned into a puddle. You were a bit surprised he hadn’t turned the touching into anything even remotely sexual and you hadn’t even looked, but you could feel, and even soft he was impressive. Jake tilted your chin up to meet your eyes with his “not tonight, go towel off and get into bed. I’m right behind you Darlin’” You sank your teeth into your bottom lip as you stepped out of the shower and into the cooler bathroom air, skin prickling with goosebumps. You wrapped yourself in your fluffy towel and grabbed one for Jake as well, before going about your nightly routine

Jake turned off the water and wrapped the towel around his waist, before joining you next to the sink, not missing the way your eyes followed a water droplet that trailed down the middle of his chest and into the towel. He took the extra toothbrush you offered and began brushing alongside you and when he finished rinsing he pressed his lips to your cheek and left the bathroom so you could finish your routine. He slipped on his boxer briefs and ran the towel through his hair a few times, before checking the route to base from your house and setting his alarm. Then he lay in bed waiting for you. He admired, with a soft smile on his face, as you came out of the bathroom still wrapped in your towel and grabbed yourself panties and something to sleep in, before slipping back into the bathroom. When you emerged the next time you were wearing a satin short set, with your hair braided and you crawled into bed next to him.

Both of you turned to face each other, your hand finding its way to his chest even in the darkness, trailing soft patterns with your nails and the next thing he knew, your hair was lightly tickling him as you rested your head on his chest. His heartbeat already lulling you to sleep and you knew that you’d probably never get another good nights rest without him beside you. Your blood pounded in your ears as you began to panic at how fast and how hard you realized you actually were falling for Jake. And as quickly as the panic came, it faded with each light stroke of Jake’s fingertips on your back. “You’re in control Darlin’. We can talk about it if you want to.” You shook your head lightly and whispered quietly, not wanting to break the stillness “not now, we can talk about it later.” You felt him give you a small squeeze and then continue tracing his fingertips up and down your back. That was how, combined with the steady beat of his heart, you fell into one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.

—

Tag List

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#the Chase #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman fic #jake seresin fanfiction

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midastouch013 · 8 months ago

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Remembering Him

Summary: Today's the annivessary of Pietro's death, and your there for your girlfriend

Warnings: Mentions of character death. Talking of losing a loved one. Sad Wanda

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The morning sun cast a gentle glow over the Avengers compound, but for Wanda Maximoff, the day felt heavy with sorrow. It marked the anniversary of her brother Pietro's death, a wound that never truly healed. As Wanda sat alone in the quiet living room, memories of their time together flooded her mind.

You, her girlfriend, entered the room with a soft smile, holding a cup of coffee for her. Wanda glanced up, her eyes reflecting both gratitude and pain. You placed the coffee on the coffee table and took a seat beside her.

"Hey, love," you whispered, taking a seat beside her. reaching for her hand. Wanda managed a small smile but remained distant. You knew that today was especially difficult for her.

"I thought we could spend today celebrating Pietro's life," you suggested. "Doing things he loved, and maybe sharing some of the stories you've told me about him."

Wanda nodded, "I'll try," she said softly, allowing you to guide her through the day.

Starting with music, you encouraged her to play some of Pietro's favorite tunes. As the melodies filled the room, your hands around her waist, as her hands wrapped around your shoulder, swaying softly to the music. Wanda began to share stories, and a bittersweet smile crossed her face.

"I remember a night in Sokovia," she began, her voice soft. "There was a street musician playing a beautiful, slow song on the accordion. Pietro, being Pietro, took my hand and said, 'Let's dance, sis.' So, there we were, twirling under the moonlight, lost in the music and each other."

A warmth filled the room as you envisioned the scene – Wanda and Pietro, sharing a dance in the quiet streets of Sokovia. "That sounds incredibly special," you remarked.

"It was, and then, right after" she spoke, her voice carrying a hint of laughter. " The man began playing a fast-paced song and Pietro, being Pietro, decided we should dance to that too. So, there we were, dancing in the square, drawing a small crowd. It was so spontaneous and silly, but for a moment, everything felt perfect."

You chuckled, "Sounds like he had a talent for turning ordinary moments into extraordinary memories."

Wanda nodded, her eyes distant yet alive with the memories. "Exactly. He had a way of making life an adventure."

The day unfolded with shared stories and activities, each one honoring Pietro's passions. When you moved to the kitchen to attempt one of his favorite dishes, Wanda's laughter filled the air, seeing how you made the same mistakes that he would.

As you neared the end of the day, Wanda and you found yourselves on the rooftop, beneath a sky sprinkled with stars—the same stars Pietro once marveled at during quiet nights.

You both lay on a blanket, shoulders touching, staring up at the vast expanse above. The day had been filled with shared memories, laughter, and a dance that echoed the bond between siblings. Yet, as the night deepened, a subtle melancholy began to seep into the air.

"We used to lay on rooftops," Wanda said softly, her gaze fixed on the twinkling stars. "He loved stargazing. Said it made him feel connected to something greater."

You nodded, squeezing her hand in acknowledgment. The quiet conversation continued, sharing stories of nights spent under the open sky in Sokovia, where Pietro would point out constellations with infectious enthusiasm.

"I miss him so much," Wanda admitted, her voice trembling with vulnerability. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

You pulled her into a comforting embrace, letting her tears fall without reservation. "It's okay, Wands," you whispered, holding her close. " You can cry, its okay"

Wanda clung to you, allowing herself to release the pent-up emotions she had held back for so long. The weight of loss, the ache of missing her brother, poured out in quiet sobs.

After a while, the tears subsided, leaving behind a sense of catharsis. Wanda pulled away, her eyes red but filled with a newfound lightness. You wiped away the remaining tears and gave her a tender smile.

"Thank you for being here," she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude.

"Always, love," you assured her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

As the day came to an end, you both sat under the evening sky, surrounded by the echoes of laughter and tears, celebrating the life of a brother who would forever live on in memories and the love he left behind. You'd never met him before, but you were sure that you would have loved him if he were there

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I'm short of ideas, someone help me.

—----------

#avengers #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #wanda maximov #wandavision #pietro maximoff #pietro marvel #wanda x you #wanda x y/n

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vettelsvee · 27 days ago

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GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 5: I'LL NEVER LEAVE... NEVER MIND [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist | wattpad f1 masterlist | ao3 | ask anything or let's talk!

ferrari sebastian vettel x ex gf!female reader

word count: 4437

summary: after not seeing each other in almost five years, seb and y/n finally meet with just one purpose for her: telling seb they have a 4 year old daughter. will y/n be able to tell him?

warnings: mentions of sex. i think nothing else but i literally cried while writing this. i recommend that you listen to loml by taylor swift while reading this hehe

taglist: [ @saltycomicsanimalssalad @hc-dutch @mycenterfold @simplyamberj @spitesfvl-blog @jaydaaasworld @lottalove4evelyn @zoeyjadetice2010 @jehun @ferralari @cosmoscoffeee @mcmuppet @myescapefromthislife @sleutherclaw @youre-on-your-ownkid ]

a/n: i'm finally back! sorry you had to wait this long to get a new chapter but writers block had me going like crazy, as well as my mental health in general. i had something else planned for today BUT be aware of what I'm posting tomorrow since you might like it! christmas is coming soon and i have a surprise ready for you. let me remind you that feedback and reposts are truly appreciated. and also comment me your thoughts and theories on the story pls! missed you so much guys, thank you for everything, love you all <3

May 15th Heppenheim, Germany

“Y/N, remember that you need to be careful with what you say to Seb. I know you want to tell him about Emily, but also consider whether today is the right time. Imagine if…”

You stop listening to Hanna the moment her lips utter your daughter’s name. Instead, your mind started creating a thousand different scenarios about what could happen when you saw your ex-boyfriend today. Your gaze remained fixed on the mirror in your room.

You only returned home five days ago, but it felt like an eternity.

You knew perfectly well why, or rather, you knew perfectly well who was to blame for your distorted sense of time: Sebastian Vettel, of course.

The trip to London felt like a fresh start. While the main reason to go was your meeting with Capital Records to discuss what your near future might hold, you considered it as an opportunity to rethink what you wanted to do with your life from now on.

You had just turned 30, and the only thing you longed for was to start this new decade with a clean slate in every possible way. That, of course, included facing your past mistakes and recognizing your faults, one of which you might be about to commit today.

Hanna acted as some sort of mediator between you and Seb because, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to send him even the simplest of messages. The driver seemed to understand, as he told Hanna not to worry, that he understood, and that all you needed to do was show up without standing him up.

Despite having agreed to meet at your house, you decided to dress up a little to present yourself in the best way possible. After spending far more time than you’d like to admit choosing what to wear, you settled on a light blue knee-length dress and white Converse sneakers, with a bracelet your daughter made (or better said your mother made, just Emily took credit for).

"Y/N, are you even listening to me?"

The reflection of your best friend in the mirror startled you. You turned towards her, trying to maintain the calm you’ve lacked since returning from London. Exactly five days that have felt like five years.

Like the five years since you last saw Seb.

"Hey, cat got your tongue or what?" insisted the blonde. "Seriously, Y/N, I want you to be speechless, but preferably when you and Seb take the conversation from the couch to the bed and he makes you scream his name again just like he used to do when..."

"Hanna, for God's sake, shut up! Seb and I are only going to talk about..."

"I know, I know, I was just trying to make you laugh. You know I like to..."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

If you were restless before, pacing back and forth in your room, checking that there was no trace of Emily in the house for Seb to find, now you were frozen like a statue.

You looked at Hanna, and she looked back at you. You shrugged, but Hanna just put her exaggeratedly unfriendly faces.

"Hanna, no..."

"It's Seb, Y/N! It's just Seb, for heaven's sake," she interrupted, and you cut her off just as fast.

"It's the Seb I haven't seen in five years!" you stammered, feeling the anxiety taking over. "Seriously, Hanna, this was a very, very bad idea. I don’t even know why I asked you to tell him to come and..."

"Because he's the father of your daughter, and your only goal is to tell him!" she yelled, trying not to raise her voice too much but failing miserably. You hoped to God Vettel didn’t hear that.

"Hanna..."

"Since I know you're not going to open the door, I'll do it myself. Stay here or come down, do whatever you want, but I'll tell Seb to come find you because clearly, you can't handle welcoming your guest," she declared.

Without saying anything else, she strided out of your room. You could only follow her, practically tripping down the stairs, legs trembling like a teenager on her first date. Your pulse was pounding in your temples, while your mind kept screaming at your body to calm down.

As soon as you stepped onto the ground floor, you saw Hanna opening the door. Her cheerful voice broke the silence, asking Seb how he was and, to your surprise, inviting him in.

You inched closer, not quite enough for them to notice you. Then you stopped, inspecting Seb from head to toe, as if you didn't already know every inch of his body by heart. Even though you were used to seeing him on TV and social media daily, it felt like you haven’t seen him in all this time you’ve been out of touch. He was wearing a slightly worn-out white t-shirt and jeans. His hair was perfectly trimmed, though a bit longer on top, and his beard, probably several days old, was what caught your attention the most, looking just the way you liked it.

But what really captivated you was the bouquet of yellow tulips he was holding, just like he used to bring you for dates or whenever it was a special day for either of you back when you were dating.

You swallowed hard, guilt washing over you as you thought, for a fleeting moment, about him handing you a flower bouquet before you told him you were having his baby.

"Hi..."

You thought your whisper was too soft to be heard, but it was quite the opposite.

Both Seb and Hanna turned to look at each other, then focused on you, still standing in the entryway. Your best friend tensed up slightly, but you tried to reassure her with a slight movement of your hands. The expression on your ex-boyfriend’s face seemed to light up at your small intervention, even if it was minimal.

“Well, Seb, I'll leave you with Y/N. I have a few errands to run…” Your friend tried to excuse herself, though both of you knew it wasn’t true. “See you later for a drink guys!

She winked and quickly slipped out, shutting the door behind her before either of you could even say goodbye.

Now, it was just the two of you, alone.

Seb looked at you again, and you couldn’t help it but get lost in the blue of his eyes. The situation felt strange. You used to cherish every moment of being alone together, but now you didn’t even know how to say a simple "hello."

You once trusted him completely, and now you were unsure whether to offer him a drink or tell him that you have a four-year-old daughter.

“Hi, sunshine,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Hi, Seb.”

He took a step towards you, slowly moving closer. You noticed how his gaze shifted from the flowers to your eyes, as if he was searching for some kind of answer from you. His eyes reflected a mixture of nervousness and tenderness, stirring a whirlwind of emotions inside you.

He didn’t have to say it, you could see it in his eyes. He was afraid of how you’d react to this gesture, this little detail that used to drive you crazy, but now… you didn’t know how to feel about it.

You, on the other hand, were utterly stunned.

How, after all this time and how cold you ended things, could he still do this? How could he still remember?

“These... are for you,” he finally said, his voice low and shaky. He handed you the bouquet, his hands trembling.

You met his gaze, and the way he looked at you was filled with fear, insecurity, and maybe, just maybe, a bit of tenderness. He didn’t need to say it out loud because you knew him too well. He was afraid of how you’d react to this gesture.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, taking your time to smell the flowers.

You couldn’t hold it in. Tears began to blur your vision, and a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

He noticed. Even though you didn’t want to, even though you didn’t feel capable of getting close enough to give him a kiss on the cheek or maybe even a hug, Seb did it anyway.

“It's okay, Y/N,” he whispered. “It’s okay...”

But it wasn’t okay… it was far from okay.

Sebastian Vettel was here, once again, standing in front of you, and possibly back in your life. The boy you once considered your best friend, the best friend you fell in love with, the driver you always supported, and most importantly, the father of your child, was back in your life in such an unexpected way that it still felt surreal.

“I don’t know...” you tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. “It feels surreal that after everything, after such an empty goodbye, here we are, together again,” you confessed. “It’s weird seeing you in front of me in the flesh and not as pixels on a screen.”

“Y/N…”

“I’ve missed you, Seb. So much.”

You knew your honesty didn’t catch him by surprise, because he felt the same way. That’s what hurt the most.

“I missed you too, Y/N. I really did...” he said after a moment, wrapping his arms around you, and you pressed your face against his chest.

“Seb…”

“Don’t overthink it, really,” he interrupted gently. “I’m not here to talk about the past or blame anyone,” he paused, letting out a breath before continuing. “I just want us to go back to who we were before we were together. But, if I’m being honest, we’ve been in love with each other for so long that I can’t remember a time when you weren’t my everything.”

Your lips trembled. The weight of his words was too much for you to handle, at least today, in a first encounter where you haven’t even spent ten minutes together.

You felt awful. You felt shattered inside knowing that if you were in this situation, it was because of you.

“Well, Y/N, tell me…”

“No, no,” you quickly interrupted, grabbing his arm and guiding him to sit on the couch. Immediately after, you rushed to the kitchen to grab the drinks and snacks you spent all morning preparing. “You tell me first. Even though I’ve seen you on TV, I know you’re very private about your life, you know... You never share anything with the media, and well, you don’t even have social media so… How are you?”

He let out a short laugh as he picked up a bottle of water and a cheese-and-salmon toast.

“Well, to be honest, I’m doing much better than when you left me,” he revealed. It didn’t surprise you. After all, it was what you expected him to say. “You must have had your reasons for breaking up with me, and after all these years, I’m not going to ask why you did it. But I won’t lie to you… you left me shattered, Y/N.”

“Seb, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” he cut in softly, making a gentle gesture with his hand to calm you down. “Like I said, I’m not looking for an explanation or an apology. I just want you to know how I felt. Mentally… damn, Y/N, you broke me, and I completely lost myself, but at the same time, that’s what gave me the strength to win the championship in 2013,” he looked away from your eyes, shifting his gaze to the wall. Nervously, he started playing with his fingers. “All I could think about was you and that, maybe, there was a chance you were watching...”

“Of course I was, Seb,” you said softly, trying to hold back the tears and keep your composure. “No matter what happened, I never stopped watching or supporting you. I’ve always been, and will always be, your number one fan.”

He nodded, a bittersweet expression crossing his face.

“That year, everything I did was with the thought in mind that you were watching and, somehow, it helped me move forward. But… 2014 was when everything fell apart,” he admitted. “Red Bull wasn’t the same anymore, or at least, I didn’t feel the same way. I wasn’t winning, Daniel was beating me… I felt like I had lost everything, including you and, with time, I started to feel like I had no reason to stay with the team or maybe even in Formula 1. Until Ferrari offered me the contract.”

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Unlike any regular sports fan, you found out through Heike when you were out for a walk with Emily.

“When I was given the chance to sign with Ferrari in 2015... Y/N, really, that’s when I realized it wasn’t the end. That’s what I needed to move forward. I think I mentioned it to you on WhatsApp, but I don’t know if you remember…”

You swallowed hard. Of course, you remembered. He told you just before the news became public, before his mum told you, but you didn’t know how to answer him or if you really should do it. The demons in your head made you think it was a joke, even just an excuse to get closer to you. And you also felt that if he did sign with Ferrari, it would open a door you had closed because you weren’t ready to face the truth.

Just like you were doing now.

“I remember, yes,” you murmured, unable to look him in the eyes.

“When I didn’t get a reply from you I decided not to push it. That’s when I realized you didn’t want anything to do with me. Yet I kept sending you stuff as you might know…”

“That’s not it…” You could barely speak. You were as broken as he was. “I read the message, Seb, but… I burst into tears and didn’t have the strength to reply. I didn’t want to give you false hope when I wasn’t ready to… I didn’t want to hurt you more than I already had,” you confessed. “I knew that if I spoke to you again, I’d hurt you again. And I’d hurt myself too. I couldn’t do that to you, Seb.”

He nodded, looking for some kind of affirmation in your gaze.

“At first, I felt really out of place on the team, you know? And I felt that way for a long time,” he revealed. “It was completely out of my comfort zone, and I felt like I’d never fit in. But little by little, Kimi, Maurizio, and the team made me feel like family. It’s strange to think about it now, but I can’t imagine being with any team other than Ferrari.” You agreed with him, from what you had seen on TV, it was clear he felt that way. “Fighting for the world title with them this year and having a real shot at beating Mercedes… I never thought I’d get to this point.”

You looked at him with a mix of admiration and nostalgia. This was the Seb you knew, the Seb with ambition, who always desired more and more. The Seb who never gave up.

The Seb who didn’t break down, even when he had every reason to.

“I’m so proud of you, Seb. I’ve always been, and I always will be. Don’t forget that.”

“Of course, Y/N,” he looked uncomfortable. Quite a bit, actually. “Well… enough about me. You know I don’t like talking about myself… What about you? What have you been up to all this time? My mom told me a bit, and I’ve seen you a few times, but…”

More than not knowing what to say, you sensed he didn’t want to intrude too much into your life.

You swallowed, trying not to get more nervous than you already were, because now, you supposed, was the moment to tell him about Emily.

“Well, not much has changed, really,” you started, unsure of what to say. “I’ve been in Heppenheim the whole time, except for a couple of trips to Berlin, but nothing unusual,” you tried to smile, but your mind kept circling around the fact that you had to tell him you had a daughter. “I’ve been working at the bar and writing music. To be honest, since we broke up I’ve had a lot more inspiration.”

And since I gave birth to Emily, you thought.

Seb didn’t say anything. You figured he understood. After all, he had thrown himself into his career to cope, while you had poured your emotions into writing songs about the story you shared to cope with grief.

“Now things have changed a bit,” you continued, trying to sound more upbeat to push away the painful memories. “Ever since Red went viral… I swear, I uploaded it without expecting anything, but the reaction…”

“The song is amazing, Y/N. Of course it went viral.”

“I’ve been offered a record deal,” you blurted out. “A few years ago, I met Niall Horan at the bar. You know, the guy who was on that band, One Direction…” Seb nodded, his eyes wide, encouraging you to continue. “He told me he was traveling to find some inspiration for his solo career, and I guess Heppenheim seemed like a good place for him to visit.”

“Wait, wait… a record deal?”

“Apparently, Niall told his label that I was the voice behind Red, and, well… Capital Records offered me a contract,” you explained. “They called me to have a meeting in London, which is why we couldn’t meet up last time…”

His face was calm, unreadable, though his mouth had curved into a big smile. He didn’t seem surprised, and you knew there was a strong chance Hanna had told him everything.

If that was true…

“I hope you accepted, Y/N.”

“Well… actually, I didn’t. I turned it down.”

His smile faded for a moment, and his expression became completely serious.

“You turned it down? Why? Sunshine, this is an opportunity…”

“Yes, I know it’s an amazing opportunity, but I can’t accept it. Not right now.”

You figured this was the moment you should tell him the real reason behind rejecting such a big deal, which included a tour if you sold a certain amount of CDs.

Sebastian kept staring at you, which only made you more nervous. You tried to gather your thoughts, searching for the right way to tell him you had a four-year-old daughter, but you couldn’t find the moment.

You couldn’t just drop it on him now, after all, this was your first real conversation in almost five years.

“Y/N, darling…”

“I can’t take the risk when the only thing I’ve managed is to get one song out of all the ones I sent to the label to go viral,” you half-lied. It was true that you didn’t want to talk about it yet, but you were also insecure about your music. “As much as I’d love to have an album, to fill stadiums and have people singing along to my songs, I can’t take that risk.”

“But, Y/N…”

“I’m not sure all the songs on the album would be successful, Seb.”

“Y/N, you have no idea what you’re going to regret if you let this go....”

“No, Seb, I know exactly what I’m doing, really,” you shook your head, firm in your decision. “This is the best thing for me.”

And for Emily too, though you didn’t say that out loud.

Seb remained silent for longer than you would have liked, as if trying to process what you’d just told him. Then, he stood up, crouching down to your level, and taking your hands in his, he said:

“Alright. If you think your songs aren’t good enough, sing one of them to me.”

“What?” you asked, confused.

“If you turned down the record deal because you think your songs aren’t good enough for the world to hear, sing one of them to me.”

His tone, though calm, was direct and insistent.

“Seb… I can’t. I’m too embarrassed,” you laughed nervously.

“Come on, Y/N,” he said, gently rubbing your hands with his thumbs, just like he always did when your anxiety was at its worst. “It’s just me. I’m still the same after all these years.”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to let it go until you gave in. It was Seb, and he always got what he wanted from you, even when you didn’t want to. In the end, you gave in, carefully standing up from the couch and heading towards the piano at the back of the room, gesturing for him to follow you.

You carefully slided the bench back, lifting the lid as you sat down. You positioned your hands, starting to play the first few chords to warm up, ensuring your memory flawlessly recalled the piece.

“This is song number 5, like your driver number... It's called loml.”

You continued playing, finally giving way to the song.

Who's gonna stop us from waltzing Back into rekindled flames? If we know the steps anyway We embroidered the memories Of the time I was away Stitching, ‘We were just kids, babe.’ I said, ‘I don't mind, it takes time.’ I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed I felt aglow like this Never before and never since.

Your voice shook as you began to sing, but you kept going, holding on to what your ex-boyfriend had told you about how he knew it was about him. As you settled into the song, you started feeling more comfortable, just like you did when you used to sing for Seb. Though you couldn’t look at him because you were absorbed in the key, your fingers delicately moving over it, you could feel his eyes on you.

You shit-talked me under the table Talking rings and talking cradles I wish I could un-recall How we almost had it all Dancing phantoms on the terrace Are they second-hand embarrassed That I can't get out of bed? Cause something counterfeit's dead.

Tears started falling from your eyes as you approached the final part of the song. Memories of your shared history flashed through your mind like a movie. Your vision was completely blurred, and you felt a tightness in your chest that was overwhelming, making it hard to breathe, almost impossible to keep singing. Somehow, though, you fought to hold it together, just as you did the day you said goodbye to the man now sitting beside you.

Oh, what a valiant roar What a bland goodbye The coward claimed he was a lion I'm combing through the braids of lies ‘I’ll never leave’... ‘Never mind.’ Our field of dreams, engulfed in fire Your arson matches your somber eyes And I'll still see it until I die You're the loss of my life.

Silence filled the room as you played the final notes. With your hands still resting on the keyboard, you looked at Seb. Once again, you didn’t know what to say to him, and you knew he didn't either. He was motionless, running a hand through his hair, probably trying to process what he just heard.

Y/Ni, this song... it’s about us, isn’t it?”

“It might be,” you admited, unable to lie to him, at least not about this.

He sighed. You could tell he was affected; you knew it the moment his tears began to form, just as yours continued to flow.

“You should rethink the contract,” he said firmly. “This song deserves to be heard by more than just me, your parents, and Hanna.”

“I can’t, Seb. I just can’t…”

“Can I sit next to you?”

You looked up and saw him gesturing to the bench. Confused, not sure what to do or say, you shifted a little, making space, and he sat beside you. Seb didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around you, offering a comfort that felt wonderful but also caused you to crumble a bit more inside.

You surprised yourself by resting your head on his shoulder.

“Why are you so determined to convince yourself you don’t deserve this opportunity?” His tone was soft, just like the way he stroked your hair. “Do you really think you're not good enough to be a successful singer?”

“It’s not about being good enough, it’s that I’m not,” you whisper,ed your throat tightening. “I’m not a good person, Seb, and it’s only a matter of time before I screw up again and hurt someone, just like I hurt you.”

“Does this… have something to do with the second date in your YouTube channel username?”

You stood your head up, staring at him in confusion while trying not to panic.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your username,” he repeated, moving closer. “I figured out that the numbers represent two dates. I know for sure that one of them is June 15, 2006, the day we started dating, but the other one… I don’t know what January 12, 2014 means for you because we weren’t talking by then, but it must be important. And based on what you just said…”

Your eyes widened in shock. You were paralyzed, not knowing how to react.

How could he have noticed something so… insignificant? How had he connected the dots and figured out the dates you had in mind when you created that account?

You thought this would be the perfect moment to tell him that the second date marks the birth of your daughter, the daughter you had together; that on that day, while you were in labor, he was at the hospital waiting for some exams results and he was talking to your dad, who couldn’t contain his excitement about his granddaughter’s arrival and had to keep it a secret from him.

But you couldn’t. Not yet. You need to regain his trust first. You and Seb needed to rebuild the kind of relationship you had before you became the love of each other’s lives.

“Seb…” you trailed off, unable to continue. “I swear, on everything that matters to you, I’ll tell you, but right now… I just can’t.”

He looked at you for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. You knew him better than you knew yourself, and you knew he was persistent, that he needed an answer, but you also knew he was respectful and wouldn't push you.

“That’s okay,” he said finally, a bit resigned. “I understand, it’s fine. I’m not asking you to tell me now if you’re not ready, but I want you to know that when you are, I’ll be here to listen.”

You looked at him, grateful, and nodded without saying anything else.

You both sat at the piano bench for a while, in silence, listening only to the sound of your breathing and the melody of the song replaying in your mind, as intrusive thoughts overwhelmed you.

“If I waited almost 19 years of my life to be your boyfriend, I can wait a little longer, it doesn’t matter the time you need, for you to tell me,” Seb finally spoke, and his words broke you a little more than you already were. “Let’s be friends again, what do you think?” he offered, giving you a small smile. “Let’s take things slowly, like maybe we should have done when we first started dating. You know…”

“Slowly, no problem,” you repeated, smiling back at him.

You felt a weight lift from your shoulders at his words. Maybe you were not at the peak of your relationship, and maybe you’d never got back there, but at least you were working together to turn your story into something new.

“You know what, Y/N? I’ve always felt like our story wasn’t over. I don’t just mean that romantically, but in a broader sense,” he said quickly. “We have a whole lot of history, and now is when we’re going to start writing our second book.”

“I know, Seb. I’ve been thinking the same thing ever since I said goodbye to you,” you confess. “That day, goodbyes were bittersweet, but I knew it wasn’t the end and that I’d see you again.”

Before the year ends. I’m telling Seb Emily is her daughter before December 31st.

160 notes · View notes

infernalodie · 1 year ago

Text

𝐀𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐏𝐭.𝟏) || 𝐆𝐰𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐲

“𝘏𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘮, 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘎𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘛𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯“

Inspo: Sleep Token - Ascensionism

Pairing: Gwen Stacy x Black!Fem!reader

Summary: They would understand soon enough and when they did they would wish to have followed you...

Warnings: Angst

Part Two

Words: 1461

A canon event.

It’s something Miguel had lectured to you about a year ago. The inevitability of having to lose someone that makes you and every Spider-person them. It defined you as a hero and a human being and made you realize that the positives of this job came with their negatives. Dire and unchanging ones. And sometimes you thought that you would be prepared for that day. But it was a simple lie you continued to tell yourself in the hope that it would numb the pain.

But who was Miguel to tell you how your story was supposed to go?

He worked off a theory. Off the numbers and data that an A.I. gave him. He was a man of science. Not belief. So, there has been no in-person count of what it led to if a Spider-Person stopped their canon event. Saving their loved ones and themselves from the pain that could come from it if they didn’t do what their instincts told them.

And you had planned to be the first. Wishing to prove the man wrong in every statement he’d made to your first meeting.

The plans had been set, promises were made for people to be there when that day came. You did everything you could to be prepared. You trained harder. You fought harder. All of it with the goal to protect those you could.

But you weren’t enough. Your efforts were fucking meaningless.

Looking down on New York, your swollen eyes watched the fires burn brightly. Rain soaking your braids with loose strands sticking to your forehead and cheeks. And your suit was charred and torn in multiple placements. Mask balled up in your tight fists. A wound spanning across your stomach bled continuously despite your attempt of webbing it shut for the time being.

All you wanted was for it to all stop.

You could hear it. A rapturing through reality with its natural orange glow reflecting off the puddles surrounding your spot on the edge of the clock tower. Two shadows cast on either side of your quivering figure, relaying the arrival of two people you’d trusted.

Arriving too late for it to matter.

“Y/n?” Gwen muttered, peeling her mask off and approaching your stiff figure. “Are you okay?”

You sat there for a few moments, sifting through the many emotions flowing through you at once. Pondering how to answer such a question from someone you thought to care.

“I never got to see the sunset, Gwen,” you said, words measured. “I hoped that I could feel its warmth again. But it’s been blocked out.”

A lingering absence, in reality, was the best way to describe how you spoke. And the way your eyes watched out on the city with a bittersweet smile. Something was poetic about this outcome. How after one event, everything else seemed to dissolve into chaos.

Beside her, Hobie pursed his lips at the sight of the city on fire. “That ain’t good,” he commented, staring at the chaos ensuing in your universe.

Riots, killings, and theft. All being committed under your watch. If someone asked you if you’d let it get this bad, you would say no. But whatever was left in your heart from the day before was gone. A thick, black void leaked from the wound. Its presence is only left to show you its place once held love.

Looking over your shoulder, your gaze connected to Gwen’s. It was full of anxiety and pain. “Where were you?” Tears clouded your vision. In a way, Gwen couldn’t help but find you beautiful at this moment. Rain pelting down around the two of you. Water droplets disguising the tears that slipped down your cheeks fearlessly.

But she could also see the pain in them. “You told me you would be here when I needed you! But you were elsewhere. Running around with him!” You waved your hand dismissively toward Hobie, who was confused about how he was brought into the argument. “I trusted you and you lied to me!”

“I had no way of knowing, Y/n. I wasn’t able to come here,” Gwen tried to reason, taking cautious steps toward you. “You have to understand I have no control over this. Miguel-“

A laugh erupted through your chest. It was eerie. Full of anger and frustration. And Gwen felt tiny underneath your hollowed gaze. With each provoking step, you grew larger in threat and intimidation. “Really? You’re going to blame this on Miguel?” You questioned, finally reaching her and grabbing her by the throat.

The action caused Hobie to step in. “Y/n, stop!” As Hobie reached to grab you, your claws drew. Nails swiftly carved themselves into his flesh, paralyzing him–his body becoming numb and crashing to the ground. A grunt fell from his lips as his eyes watched fearfully of your intentions.

Turning your gaze to Gwen, you tightened your grip around her thin throat. Feeling her hands slap at your arm, fingers squeezing around the limb in hopes she could break free. Yet, the struggle only enabled you to lift her off the ground. A blood-boiling rage mounting levels that combatted any level of understanding you held for the girl.

This wasn’t about you losing your sister. This wasn’t related to Miguel or any of the other Spider-People. This was about Gwen. Her promise. Her reassurance that everything would be fine–and you fucking believed it.

She twisted your expectations. Betting on a piece of fiction that was riddled with lies of its consistency to your story. Her words, her whispered lies of misconstrued success–They were all hopeless conceptions to place in your mind. A methodical game of chess that she’s been winning from the first move.

But even with this outlook on her, you couldn’t understand why. Why would she do this? Why would she leave you on your own? Why wouldn’t she just say she couldn’t be there? Why, why, why? Too many questions for a simple answer to justify. And it posed the final question rattling in your head; do you even want to know why?

“If you cared about me, you would’ve been here to help me. If Miles were trusted, he would’ve been here. He would’ve tried to save my sister. He would’ve followed through on a promise.” Clenching your jaw, you squeezed a little tighter, teeth clamping together. The faint wobbling of your lips was evident as your nose twitched in frustration. “What does that say about you?”

Gwen bit her lip, hoping the pain would suppress the stinging behind her eyes. Managing to find leverage with her feet pressing on your chest, pushing away just enough to let out a choked, “I’m sorry.”

Two words. An apology that was not only long overdue but meaningless. Not when you had buried Amelie yourself. When you had to listen to her whimpers, hands holding onto your arms demanding you reveal yourself to her.

Gwen should’ve been here.

“If you’d asked me to be there for you, I would’ve been there in an instant. The same goes for Miles,” you confessed shamelessly. The idea of restrictions on emotions is unveiled by the brutal and honest truth of your pain. Displaying the bitter ink that seeped through your eyes, masking themselves in tears. “And that’s because I love you two too much to see you both be in pain. I would do anything to take that pain and place it on my shoulders. But you lied!”

Through the open skylight of the clock tower, the clouds shifted from obscuring the large rock floating in space. And the moonlight spilled through the glass and revealed Gwen’s tear-stained cheeks. There was a second of hesitance. A flicker of question in yourself. But you pushed it aside, clenching your jaw. “And I won’t let you or any more of us do that.” Grabbing her wrist, you peeled the interdimensional travel watch from her wrist and tossed her aside.

Gwen hit the ground with a thud, rolling across the wet rooftop until she was laid beside Hobie. But when she found you, the portal using the watch was activated. The destination was unknown to her.

“Y/n, stop, please!” The blonde cried. “You don’t have to do this. We can talk about this!”

But you kept your back to her, hoping the ink leaking from your eyes wouldn’t be noticed. “I continued because I wanted to be ready for the day you came when I needed you,” you muttered. “You made me this way, Gwen.”

Gwen leaned Hobie against a wall, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he closed his eyes. She fell to his side, placing her hands over her face. The sunrise. The start of something new.

#gwen stacy #gwen stacy imagine #gwen stacy fanfiction #gwen stacy across the spider verse #gwen stacy into the spider verse #gwen stacy angst #gwen stacy x black reader #gwen stacy x black!reader #gwen stacy x black!fem!reader #gwen stacy x black fem reader #x poc reader #x reader #poc reader #gwen stacy x reader

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kthsbelle · 1 year ago

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SECOND CHANCES

pairings : tattooed eren jaeger x fem!reader

sypnosis : written from eren’s pov . a couple trying to find themselves and meaning in their relationship after eren cheated .

a/n : this is a small / short gift to y’all because my first fic reached 10k !!! this is huge for me. i write because I love it and wanted to share an idea . the attention was something special to me . this is an excerpt from a fun roleplay i had . i thought it told am interested story . enjoy !

the day dissolved into dusk, a canopy of brooding clouds hovered over eren's head, foretelling a sense of impending doom.   ominous. foreboding.   as the sun set over the bustling city , the brunette sat at the small kitchen table in his apartment, gazing blankly at his plate of untouched food. the fluorescent light overhead cast a harsh glow on the scene, highlighting the cracks in the yellowing linoleum and the smudges on the walls . the traffic outside was steady hum , punctuated by the occasional honk or screech of brakes that indicated a slightly heavy afternoon jam . the lighting in the small kitchen was dim, casting long shadows across the room . the only source of light were a few overhead bulbs that hung from the ceiling , one of them flickering slightly as if on the verge of burning out . it was almost ironic ; the lighting seemed to be synchronized with the weight of the atmosphere as eren sat , left to face his own demise ; the threatening and inauspicious fact that he was guilty of his own misfortune . 

  across from him sat yourself , his girlfriend- well, seemingly ‘ex’- girlfriend , just as absent-minded , who seemed to have taken profound interest in the food on your plate , having looked at anything but him this whole dinner . he understood , though - he wasn’t able to look at his reflection in the mirror either . the man shifted in his seat , fork now moving to pick at the fluffy scoop of mashed potatoes in his plate . eren's obsidian gaze fell on you for another moment , the slight rouge on your cheek being visible as well as the delicate lines of the side of your face . for a woman of small stature , you always made a prodigious impact . a delicate snub of nose , sun-lit strands and eyes that pulled on something deep in his chest .

  he swept his gaze about the room . his place seemed nothing but the empty of shell that nursed memories of what once was . the walls painted a cool shade of gray licked by the orangeade shade of the sun streaming through , the hardwood floors and the clean lines of the furniture that gave this space an uncluttered feel which eren always sought when it came to the comfort of his apartment. the polaroid photos on the shelf under the television caught his eyes ; both of you sunkissed , glowing at his favorite band’s concert . his piercing eyes shifted towards the kitchen , the red vintage coffee maker you had bought at a thrift store during one of your weekend adventures sat at the top of a shelf collecting dust . the spice rack that you had helped him organize so meticulously still sat untouched , and the refrigerator door was nothing more than a pit of bittersweet, scattered memories , adorned with postcards, unchecked bucket list items that served as a reminder of your memories together.   he exhaled a lungful of sorrow as his fork finally pierced through a branch of asparagus which he hesitantly brought to his mouth . the man who usually enjoyed his greens found himself hardly able to pull his lips apart to welcome the vegetable . he chewed carefully and swallowed , the piece of food sitting at the pit of his stomach like a pile of rocks . eren cleared his wry throat gently before attempting to chase the dryness with a sip of the , now, watered down coke . he placed the glass back down , the signet ring around his little finger shooting gold through the glass' stem . the tattoo on his finger was exposed for a brief second . ‘333’ written in italic wrapped around his pinky as the time at which he first confessed his feelings to you . he had mapped many others . the black , and occasionally , red ink traced an endless pattern on his skin that kept a record of his most prized moments with you . if you had done something special , it would end up immortalized on his skin - somewhere , within the drawings on his chest or sleeves . with his gaping collar , sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his forearms and windblown dark hair , he seemed quite more at ease than he truly was . 

his aquamarine eyes lifted towards you again , this time , a bit more urgently . his calm expression betrayed his inner turmoil . strong currents rose in his irises . he seemed to be deep in thought , stare lost in something he couldn't explain . was all of this truly lost ?   oh , he was so wrong . 

the memories of his cheating were nothing he could recall with a calm mind . they made his stomach churn with the acidic burn of guilt and disappointment . he couldn't help but feel that a deep part of him craved to have his actions be justified - he wanted to feel something . and though he didn't search for it ; it - she came to him and he simply let it happen . he couldn’t deny , he wanted the sense of intimacy that only physical contact and desire with another human could provide . quite selfish , he knew . but he truly thought there was nothing left for him in his relationship that had been slowly nibbled away by their own issues .

" you’re always alone…ever want company ?" he remembered the red head's words as he picked up his skateboard , roguish green eyes piercing through his soul . it was such a formulaic thing to say that it almost broke a lopsided smile out of him . " what if i was ?" the words tipped over his lips faster than he could think and before he knew it , he was tangled under a pair of limbs.   he spared her the details when recounting the ordeals of his affair . it was an especially hard conversation to have . it had to be paced . between the pauses to breathe and the glossiness that coated her eyes every few seconds , he was forced to watch the damage he'd caused . but were they forced to relive this over and over ?

still now , as they sat to eat their dinner , the air in the room was thick with tension and unspoken words . he wanted to say something, anything to break the silence, to ease the tension.

he fidgeted with his fork , drumming it against the table as he tried to find something to say , but the words wouldn't come . he wanted this crushing reality disappear , for the fog to dissipate - maybe there was still a chance that none of this was lost , that a remaining spark could be ignited for the depths of your eyes . you were , and still remained , as mesmerizing as a raging ocean, with depths and currents that no one could fully comprehend . but he did .   eren cleared his throat , embarrassment seared him from inside out .   a sheen of sweat broke out on his curved brow .

his tongue was a sailor's knot but he finally mustered the courage to speak.   a hard swallow , an intense searching gaze ,   " babe..."   the husky whisper of a confession ,   '' i know i messed up . but i just-this is the truest thing i've known . can we talk again ?"

#belle’s writings 🎧! ♡ ✶ . ࣪ ׅ #eren jaeger #aot imagine #eren jeager x reader #eren x reader #aot x y/n #aot drabbles #eren aot

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tellmegoodbye · 4 months ago

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Welcome back!!!

One again this is a loving reminder that we now have a fanfic playlist, so if you can't think of any songs for canon but you have some fanfic songs lying around, go for it!

This week I am going back to the original playlists and I'm doing Linkin Park songs! I'm surprised it's taken me this long to do this theme, knowing me.

Sharp Edges - Linkin Park

Mama always told me don't you run Don't you run with scissors, son You're gonna hurt someone Mama told me look before you leap Always think before you speak, and watch the friends you keep Stay along the beaten path, never listened when she said

Sharp edges have consequences I guess that I had to find out for myself Sharp edges have consequences Now every scar is a story I can tell

This is probably my favorite song for TK and Gwyn. She never stopped trying to help even if TK wasn't always ready to listen. It's a bittersweet thing for him to think about now that she's gone.

Shadow of the Day - Linkin Park

I close both locks below the window I close both blinds and turn away Sometimes solutions aren't so simple Sometimes goodbye's the only way, oh

And the sun will set for you The sun will set for you And the shadow of the day Will embrace the world in grey And the sun will set for you

In cards and flowers on your window Your friends all plead for you to stay

This song reminds me of how at the end of season 4 Robert had come to the decision to end his own life. We didn't get much screentime with him and Owen, but their story is still incredibly tragic and these lyrics are the perfect representation of how he had been sad, but also made peace with his choice.

Crawling - Linkin Park

There's something inside me that pulls beneath the surface Consuming, confusing This lack of self control I fear is never ending Controlling I can't seem

To find myself again My walls are closing in (Without a sense of confidence, I'm convinced) (That there's just too much pressure to take) I've felt this way before So insecure

Crawling in my skin These wounds, they will not heal Fear is how I fall Confusing what is real

Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me Distracting, reacting Against my will I stand beside my own reflection It's haunting

I chose the live version for this song because it hits even harder than the original. You can hear the pain in Chester's voice even more when the song is stripped down like this.

This is a TK song to me, and it specifically makes me think of the flashbacks in 3x08, and that scene on the plane where he's locked himself in the bathroom and has that moment where he realizes just how bad things have gotten, despite the denial he expressed with Gwyn. He's terrified that he won't be able to get better and that he's always going to be the version of himself he sees in the mirror. He feels like he's lost control of himself and doesn't know if he'll ever get it back again.

Quick sidenote: I have had a few people express that they're busy on mondays, but I literally just chose this day for the alliteration, like wip wednesday or seven sentences sunday. You can do these any day of the week!

Tags!

@strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @goodways @ironheartwriter @herefortarlos

@literateowl @carlos-tk @heartstringsduet @emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi

@nancys-braids @captain-gillian @reyesstrand

@bonheur-cafe @firstprince-history-huh @paperstorm @guardian-angle22 @reeeallygood

@kiwichaeng @toomanycupsoftea @fandomswonderland @messymindofmine @goldenskykaysani

and anyone else who would like to join in!

#har rambles #music monday #911ls music mondays #music tag

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burntsecrets · 17 days ago

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Is It Over Now?

Pairing: Eddie X Reader

Word Count: 1961

Prompt: Is it Over Now? (Taylor’s Version)(From the Vault)

Summary: Eddie and the Reader meet for the first time in person. After a whirlwind weekend, the Reader is left with more questions than answers.

Warnings: unrequited love, emotional distress, heartbreak, implied intimacy, brief mentions of past relationships, lingering sadness, unresolved feelings, longing

Author’s Note: This is part two in a four-part one-shot series that begins with I Never Told You. This series is loosely based on an actual experience that didn’t have a happy ending, so while the emotions are raw and heartfelt, the journey will reflect the bittersweet nature of love, longing, and the words left unsaid. Thank you for joining me on this emotional ride — I hope it resonates with anyone who’s ever had to let go of something they couldn’t quite reach and been left wondering, “What If.”

You’re standing in the arrivals terminal, fingers tight on the handle of your suitcase, heart a mess in your chest as you scan the line of cars for his van. It’s weirdly familiar but foreign; after all those late-night calls, the banter, the laughter, the unspoken things — none of it quite prepared you for this moment. You finally spot him, the van’s rusty paint and “Corroded Coffin” bumper sticker giving it away, and there he is, leaning out of the driver’s side, grinning.

“Hey!” he calls, waving you over with that boyish enthusiasm he’d show only to you. It’s sudden, raw, and a million times more real than any screen ever was.

You manage a half-smile, shuffling over, the handle of your suitcase jerking as you try not to trip over your own feet. You’re a bundle of nerves, cheeks warming up at just the sight of him. The moment is fleeting as he helps with your bag, gives you a quick hug, and nudges you into the passenger seat, barely more than a heartbeat, before he has to drive away. The rush, the swirl of smells in his van — a mix of old leather and Eddie's cologne — it’s almost too much, too fast.

“So…how was the flight?” His question comes as he pulls out of the terminal, glancing at you with the same easy grin you recognize from countless video calls, but there’s something about it here, in the close confines of his van, that has you glancing away.

“Oh, you know,” you say, trying not to fumble over words, “turbulence, overpriced coffee, the usual.” You laugh, though it sounds thin to your ears, your fingers fiddling with the fraying edge of your sweater as you look out the window, desperate to act casual.

But Eddie doesn’t seem fazed, filling the silence with his own tales, stories that come tumbling out like he’s known you forever, while you barely manage a laugh here or a nod there, trying not to analyze every twitch of his hand, every look he sneaks over.

The temptation to reach for him, to feel his hand in yours, keeps dancing at the edge of your mind, but each time you almost reach out, you pull back, afraid of what it might mean — of what it might change.

The scenery shifts, trees thickening as he veers off the main road, the small town of Hawkins behind you. “Thought I’d take you somewhere cool first,” Eddie says, eyes flicking to yours with that glint of mischief you love so much. “Got a nature trail I think you’ll like.”

You nod, smiling despite yourself, fingers clenched tight on your seatbelt as the van eases to a stop in a small gravel lot. The woods loom large around you, leaves crunching underfoot as you both step out.

It’s quiet, peaceful, and a little easier to breathe here, surrounded by trees and the crisp October air. As you walk, you almost blurt out what you’ve been dying to tell him for months now — that he’s everything you didn’t know you needed, that maybe these two years have been leading up to this. But before you can even find the words, he’s speaking, his tone softer, gaze far away.

“Me and the girl I was seeing… we, uh… called it quits,” he murmurs, kicking at a loose stone in the path.

“Oh…” You swallow, feeling that familiar ache unfurling in your chest, the confession you’d planned dissolving before you. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

“Nah, it’s… fine. Kinda inevitable, really,” he says, but there’s a weight in his words. You nod, though everything in you sinks, the words you’d practiced dying on your lips. Now isn’t the time.

The sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the trail as you head back to his apartment, and by the time you’ve finished dinner, it’s easy to sink into the comfort of his presence, laughter breaking through the lingering tension.

He insists you take his bed, but you end up curled beside him anyway, breathing steady in the soft silence as you lie awake, the warmth of him too near, too impossible. Somehow, you fall asleep beside him, his arm brushing yours.

The next morning, he takes you to a diner for breakfast, filling up on pancakes and coffee before heading to the bookstore. You roam the aisles together, trading book recommendations, and he laughs as you light up at the rare first editions on display. You’re like two kids exploring the shelves, losing time until he drags you to his favorite record store.

The store is a chaotic blend of genres, vinyl covers spilling over shelves, and it’s easy to let yourself get lost in the noise, the closeness of him by your side as you flip through albums together. You catch him glancing at you once or twice, an odd look in his eyes that he quickly hides behind a smirk or a joke. It keeps you wondering, thoughts churning, but you push it down, telling yourself he’s still getting over his breakup.

At Spirit Halloween, the eerie decorations and creepy animatronics distract you both for a while, laughter echoing through the aisles as you try on absurd costumes and take pictures, Robin joining you later. She’s quick to warm up to you, and you find yourself talking easily with her, sharing little jokes as Eddie watches you, a quiet smile on his face.

The night settles around you like a heavy blanket, shadows softening the edges of Eddie’s apartment, casting everything in a warm, secretive glow. You’re both sprawled on his worn-out couch, a stack of empty takeout containers scattered on the table, and the low hum of a vinyl record spinning in the background. Eddie’s laughter has faded to a comfortable silence, but his gaze lingers — warm, thoughtful, almost hesitant. He’s close, his arm resting along the back of the couch, his eyes holding yours in a way that makes your heart stammer in your chest. You feel it, the gentle weight of his attention, how it sends warmth spreading through you, wrapping around every corner of your mind.

He clears his throat, fingers drumming lightly on his knee before his voice cuts through the quiet. “Hey… can I kiss you?”

The air stills, and for a moment, everything inside you freezes, disbelief mixing with the heady rush of want that coils in your chest. Your pulse drums, quick and unsteady, and every warning you’ve told yourself, every reason to guard your heart, fades like distant echoes. There’s nothing in this moment but the pull of him, the wild, reckless promise in his eyes, and the way your entire body leans forward, answering him. “Yes,” you whisper, the word barely a breath, but it’s all he needs.

Then his lips find yours, soft but sure, and the world dissolves. His kiss is a quiet question, slow and gentle, then insistent, and your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. His hand slides around your back, fingers pressing against your spine, anchoring you to him, the warmth of his touch sending a thrill down your skin. The kiss deepens, his mouth exploring yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless, dizzy, like you’re both unraveling and coming together all at once. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this is going to hurt, but in the heat of his touch, you can’t make yourself care.

Hours blur and melt into each other, and by the time exhaustion pulls you both under, the last thought that dances across your mind is how perfect it all feels, how alive you feel wrapped in his arms, knowing you’re about to lose this.

The next morning, dawn filters through the blinds, spilling over his sleeping face. You slip from the bed, moving quietly to the bathroom, steeling yourself under the cool spray of the shower, rehearsing the words you’ve wanted to say all weekend. Today’s the day, you tell yourself. You’ll tell him everything.

You go through the motions, folding your clothes into your suitcase, brushing your fingers over little memories from the past few days — his laugh, the way his hand felt in yours, the warmth of his gaze. But as he drives you to the airport, your heart in your throat, the silence in the car starts to stretch thin, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you.

Finally, just as you’re working up the nerve, he breaks the silence, voice a little too casual. “Hey, so… my ex texted me this morning.”

You freeze, breath catching, and every ounce of courage, every moment you’d built up over the weekend, shatters like glass. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “She… I don’t know. She wants to talk things over when you leave. Try and… I don’t know, sort things out, I guess.”

Your chest tightens, the ache blooming sharp and sudden, but you force a smile, nodding as if you understand. Inside, though, every word you’ve been holding onto slips away, and all you’re left with is the hollow space where they’d been.

The airport appears in the distance, the moment closing in. You open your mouth, the urge to say something clawing at you, desperate to leave him with a piece of what you feel, but the words stick, the weight of everything that’s changed sitting heavy in your throat. “Thanks for the weekend, Eddie. Really. It… it meant a lot.”

He looks at you, something flickering in his eyes — confusion, maybe regret — but he nods, his smile soft, genuine. “Yeah, it meant a lot to me too.”

And then, before you can let yourself say anything more, you pull your suitcase from the backseat, giving him one last, lingering look. There’s so much you want to tell him, so much you ache to say, but you hold it in, swallowing the words, letting them settle painfully in your chest as you walk through the terminal doors.

It’s only when you’re seated at your gate, the minutes ticking down, that you finally let yourself feel it. The ache unfurls, bittersweet and raw, knowing that while he’ll always mean everything to you, you’ll keep loving him — silently, painfully, and completely. You turn the memory of his kiss over in your mind, replaying the warmth of his touch, the way his eyes held something unspoken every time he looked at you. Part of you wonders if he felt it too, even just for a moment.

But then the reality hits, sharp as a knife: his ex’s message, the way he spoke about her with a hesitant hope in his voice. The hope that he might go back to her, that maybe she’s the one he’ll choose in the end. And you’re left here, the weight of your silence and all the unsaid words pressing down on you like a stone.

A thought flickers, quiet and unsettling — Was that it? Was that my one chance, and did I miss it? You bite your lip, holding back tears as you wonder if the weekend, fleeting and fragile, was all you were ever meant to have. Did he feel something real, something he’d only bury again the moment you walked away? Or was it just you, holding on to a dream, hoping for something more that might already be slipping away?

As they call your boarding group, you glance back one last time, almost expecting to see him there, running to you with all the things you’re dying to hear. But the terminal is empty, and you turn toward the gate, feeling the ache settle deeper, hollow but heavy.

And as you walk down the jetway, the question lingers, hanging over you like a shadow: Is it truly over now?

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