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sukirichi · 2 months ago

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[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 020 ]

“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. angst, living like criminals (lol), implied smut, unedited.

notes. you guys I can’t believe we finally reached the ending! this was such a long but enjoyable ride and I cannot thank you all enough for being so supportive in this series <3 this chapter is really long but I hope you guys enjoy it and happy ber-months!! (also just a lil note that we still have an epilogue – and yes, I’ve finished writing that too, so whatever happens in the ending… know we’ll still have some tidbits for the epilogue!)

wc. 19k

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[ TWENTY ] all of the small things that you do are what remind me why I fell for you. and when we’re apart and I’m missing you, I close my eyes and all I see is you and the small things you do.

You didn’t know what woke you up first – the birds chittering outside, the soft rustling of the sheets beside you, or the low groans emanating from your husband.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting its golden glow as it kissed your eyelids and gently coaxed you from sleep. The soft chittering of birds outside the cabin filled the morning air with a melody so pure and light it almost felt like a dream. The world was still, bathed in an ethereal calm that seemed almost too perfect to be a real.

You wondered if it was. Real. True – you laid there, cocooned in your thin blankets that you got in a fleece market, breathing in the scent of pine and fresh morning dew, as if trying to memorize this magical peace. It was so quiet that it felt almost deafening, so different from everything you’d known before, that it was hard to believe this life was now yours. No more waking up at the same time everyday while servants bathed and dressed you. No more awkward breakfasts filled with tension as you discussed politics. Instead, your mornings felt like this – waking up whenever you liked, and having home cooked meals that was sometimes taken by leaning against the countertops, cereal bowls in hand as you discussed with your husband what you’d do for the day. Not that there was much to do – Rintaro chopped wood, you washed your clothes and prepared the meals, and he kept the house warm.

Waking up in the light of early morning, the familiar scent of pine and crisp mountain air filled the small cabin. The bed was warm, and as you stirred, your hand instinctively reached out to search for him. The roughness of his palm met yours, and you felt his fingers curl around yours gently, the gesture silently confirming that it was real – he was real – and that none of it was a dream. You turned your head, and there he was. Rintaro, still half-asleep, his eyes closed with his lips slightly curled downwards. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at him a moment longer.

Had he always been like this? When was the last time you’d shared the same bed as him back in your old country? Looking back at it… it’d been almost a year before your wedding that you did. Despite greeting the new day by being tangled in the sheets all night long, Rintaro rarely stayed the night when you were still dating. He’d always leave with a quick kiss to your forehead, and you’d be too exhausted – bone weary and pleasured in all the best of ways – to ask him to stay. And when you had been married… there were plenty of beds, but none to be shared.

But now, he was here, as he had been for the past six months. Waking up next to you with always the same expression – his arm slung across his forehead because his eyes were too sensitive to the light, and his lips turned in a frown because he would’ve slept forever if he could. I could never be a morning person, he’d mumbled once, a mug of coffee in hand, I don’t get how you look so beautiful this early, though. Maybe that’s the only good thing about waking up.

What is? you’d teased and acted coy, and Rintaro would hide his blush behind his mug. Seeing you first thing in the morning, he’d say.

Without thinking, you leaned in, gently pushing his arm that blocked your way so you could brush your lips against his forehead. It was a simple gesture, one you had shared with him countless of times before, but it never lost its meaning. It was your silent way of saying, “Good morning,” in the hopes that it’d reassured him that, despite everything, the two of you were still together, and would stay together through thick and thin.

Rintaro grumbled beneath you, as he always did whenever you kissed him. Six months of the two of you navigating this new life together, and he still acted like a stranger at times. Today, however, he welcomed it a little bit. His grumblings were incoherent, his hand flying to rest against your waist as you hovered over him, trying to memorize all the details on his face and how he’d changed. For one, his hair had grown a little too long. It reached the nape of his neck and flared out into wispy spikes, the tendrils soft yet curling around your finger. Two, his stubble was becoming more prominent, the dark shadow present across his face. If you swiped your palm against his jaw, it’d feel uncomfortably sharp.

Not that you minded. Smiling to yourself, you reached over to press another kiss to his nose when Rintaro stopped you, your wrist caught in his arm. “Don’t,” he warns in a low voice laced heavily with sleep, “You said my stubble hurts you.”

“It’s just itchy. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Yeah, but you still don’t like it,” he pouted, and you bit back the giggle threatening to pour out of you.

The peace of the moment was broken only by the soft rumble of your stomach. You winced at the sound and slipped out of bed, padding softly across the wooden floor to the small kitchen. The pantry door creaked as you opened it, revealing nearly empty shelves. A couple of cans, a bag of rice, and some dried herbs – enough for one meal, maybe two.

You felt Rintaro’s presence behind you before you heard him, his hands snaking around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. You were running low on groceries again, but it didn’t worry you. This life, however simple and secluded, was a far cry from the grandiosity of the palace, but it was yours. And in this quiet cabin, up high in the mountains in a country at the other side of the world where no one knew you, you’d found a strange sort of peace.

“We’re running low.”

“Huh?” Rintaro mumbled against your shoulder, raising his eyes to eye the shelf. It was nearly empty, and he hummed to himself, confused. “We just checked our stock two weeks ago. I was sure it’d last us a few more weeks.”

You snorted, not making any attempts to remove his arm around your waist as you picked up the cans. Green beans, mushrooms, and some off-brand cheap tuna that tasted so salty you felt like you’d licked the sea. “Yeah, two weeks ago. You eat like a bear, Rin.”

“Oh. Sorry,” he released his hold around you, and stepped away. Scratching the back of his neck, he tipped his chin in the direction of the shelves. “We should go down later to get groceries. I heard there was a night market, too, and I still have some money left to get whatever you like.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“I insist,” he said, eyeing your bare neck, ears, and wrists. Just six months ago, you’d been decorated in the finest of stones and most exquisite gowns. Now? You wore whatever would fit you from the thrift shops, and you hadn’t worn any accessories aside from your wedding ring ever since arriving here. It just didn’t make sense to keep wearing your old garments when you needed to keep a low profile. So you’d stashed and kept all your old clothes at the back of some rotting cabinet, occasionally checking to see if it was still in good condition in case you needed to sell it for some extra cash. You didn’t mind the change, truth be told. But you could tell Rintaro was struggling to see you in this light – walking around barefoot, dressed in his tattered and loose sweaters that you hadn’t washed in days because soap was hard to come by, and your face bare of anything.

You didn’t look like a Princess, but you didn’t have to. You weren’t one anymore.

Rintaro sighed. “It’s been a long time since you got yourself something you liked. I want to spoil you, even if its just for tonight.”

You grimaced, unsure of what to say. “I appreciate that but… we should really use the money for something else, Rin. You know we can’t afford to buy anything that isn’t essential right now,” you reminded him, gnawing on your lip as you both danced around the undeniable fact looming overhead. “The money my parents gave us won’t last forever.”

“I could get a job.”

“No,” you responded without skipping a beat, “Not an option. It’s too risky. You and I could be recognized and it’s just… We’re okay, Rin. What we have now? The life we have together? I can’t just let it go. There’s no way I’m letting you be exposed out there.”

Rintaro was silent for a moment. You knew he knew you were right – you could be in the middle of nowhere and still be recognized. He’d spent his entire life being in the limelight, his every move publicized on television and the media. He would be easy to point out from the crowd even if his hair grew a little longer, a little more unkempt. Regardless of the truth that he wasn’t a royal by blood, he could never shake off the elegance in which he moved with, or the mannerisms that weren’t normal in this country’s culture. Just thinking about him being separated from you because of something as foolish as a job… you couldn’t stomach the thought of it.

“But we can’t keep living like this,” he argued softly, looking around your old, dusty cabin with a weary expression. “Just barely getting by.”

“We’ll find a way, okay?” you reassured him, reaching over to cup his face. He’d been pestering you to let him go to town so he can find a stable source of income for months now, but you were stubborn. You’d watched over him like a walk just to ensure he wouldn’t leave. But he was right, there had to be something you or him could do to do more than just survive. “We’ll talk about it tonight. I promise.”

That night, you and Rintaro set out to brave through the weather. The cold winter air nipped at your face as you and Rin stepped into the grocery store, the warmth inside immediately welcoming. The both of you were bundled up in thick sweaters, scarves, and hats, trying to keep the biting chill at bay. Your hand found its way into his, and he squeezed it gently, offering both comfort and warmth as you navigated the aisles together.

This was only your third time grocery shopping, and it still felt strange, almost like playing house. The abundance of choices, the unfamiliar task of sticking to a budget, and the realization that you now had to manage everything on your own – it was all new, and both thrilling and daunting. You remembered the first time you arrived here, Rintaro had unknowingly picked out whatever he liked, careless of the prices simply because he’d never had to think about it before. But as soon as you reached the checkout counter, and your money wasn’t enough, he’d shamefully put back everything – chocolates, salty chips, wine. It left an impression to the cashiers working, and it was another two months before you both had enough courage to return.

Now, though, you were more familiar with it. You both moved slowly, scanning the shelves with a mix of curiosity and caution. Rin paused in front of a display of cookies, his hand reaching out to grab a box of your favorites. You hesitated, a mix of longing and practicality battling in your mind. “Put that back,” you said softly, glancing at the price tag. It was enough to make your pockets hurt. It was the good kind of cookies – artisan, with premium dark chocolate.

“Why?” Rin asked, holding the box up as if examining it more closely. “You like these cookies.”

“They’re way over our budget,” you explained, trying to ignore how much you wanted to take them home. God, those cookies and some hot cocoa with marshmallows on top, along with a good show playing on TV? If you had some TV! Wouldn’t that be wonderful? It’d be the perfect way to spend winter at home.

“But these are your favorite,” he insisted, and there was a warmth in his voice that made you stop and look at him.

You frowned slightly, confused. “How’d you know that? I never told you.”

A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You keep eyeing them each time we come down this aisle, and it’s the only thing you finish in one sitting. This is the only snack you never portion out. You last ate these two months ago.”

Your heart skipped a beat, touched by how closely he paid attention to the smallest things. His eyes were soft, full of a tenderness that made you momentarily forget the cold and the weight of everything else.

“Come on,” he urged gently, placing the box of cookies in the cart despite your earlier protest. “We’re not going to starve if you let yourself have this treat.”

You wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes made you relent. There was something so sweet, so earnest about the way he cared for you, even in these small moments. You found yourself smiling, warmth spreading through you as you let the moment sink in. And you tried so very had, you really did, to forget about the price tag. He was right that you wouldn’t starve. Still, you couldn’t afford to be careless, just as you didn’t have the heart to say no to him when he seemed like he’d be moments away from getting down on his knees and say ‘just get the damned cookies!’ It almost made you laugh, and you thought about how Rintaro was slowly becoming more like the Rintaro you’d known – before everything fell apart.

How he’d always watched you closely to know everything you liked. How you’d often find everything you were eyeing at your bedroom the next day, with a handwritten card for him that read: anything that catches your eye is yours. love, rin. How he always knew you wanted something before you even said it out loud.

The titles had been stripped off of you, and the grandeur was left behind in a kingdom that lost its glory. But he was still Rin, your Rin. And you liked him a little more when he didn’t have his Crown.

As you continued down the aisle, your hand still firmly in his, you let his warmth seep into you. You went into an automatic mode after that – just following him around while he picked out the cheapest products to restock. He struggled a little when your hand was still tightly wound in his, though he made no move to move away.

The cold, biting air greeted you again as you and Rin stepped out of the grocery store, the sky a dull gray that hinted at more snow to come. Rin insisted on carrying all the bags, despite how heavy they were, his breath growing visible in the cold as he shouldered the weight without complaint. His broad shoulders hunched slightly against the chill, but he kept his usual calm demeanor, his focus entirely on getting everything to the car.

You both had recently managed to get a car – a cheap, low-key one that didn’t attract much attention. It was far from the luxurious vehicles you were once accustomed to, but it was practical, blending in perfectly with the other cars in town. As Rin loaded the bags into the trunk, you couldn’t help but watch him. Rin kept a careful distance as he moved, his hesitance evident. Even now, after everything you had been through together, there was still a space between you –an invisible line that he seemed too afraid to cross. He was always respectful, always careful, but you could see it in his eyes, in the way he held himself back: he still felt like he wasn’t good enough for you, like he was just a nobody and you were still the princess, despite the life you were trying to build together. And he couldn’t be any more wrong.

The drive back to the cabin was quiet, the car heater humming softly as you passed through the snow-covered landscape. It felt almost like playing house, like you were a normal husband and wife just going about their day, but there was that undercurrent of tension, the unspoken fears and doubts that Rin carried with him, no matter how much you tried to show him that none of it mattered to you. Because everyone knew, the whole world knew, you weren’t a normal husband and wife. You’d been a Princess and he’d been a Prince, both destined to be great leaders only to come out like this – walking in public with your heads down, faces concealed, and desperately trying to mask your accent in the hopes no one would pick up on the recognizable Inarizaki dialects. Normal married couples didn’t go around falling for people outside their marriages, too, yet here you were. Rintaro with an ex-girlfriend he almost had a family with if she hadn’t aborted, and you… You looked out the window, shaking away any thoughts of him.

It’d been six months. Six months where you didn’t utter his name. Six months where you refused to bring up to your memory how his voice sounded like, how his curls felt so soft when you ran your hands through it. You’d lived for a good six months without him, and you were determined to never think about him ever again.

This was the life you had now – a life where Kiyoomi couldn’t fit in the puzzle pieces. He was someone you loved in the past, and whatever lingering feelings that still longed for him, whatever dreams of his face that haunted you and kept you awake at night – all of it had to be buried. Because all you had was Rintaro, and you were all he had, too. Never in a million years could you abandon your husband for a twisted, short-lived love affair.

He’s free now, you reminded yourself. If I went back to him… he would’ve never been freed from everything that made him miserable. It’s what you tell yourself when no one was looking. It’s what you prayed to believe every night, what you hoped to be real when you knew you still would’ve loved to hear from him.

When you finally arrived back at the cabin, you both worked to bring the groceries inside, setting them on the small kitchen counter. The cabin was warm, a contrast to the biting cold outside, and you could see Rin visibly relax once you were indoors. Still, he kept that distance, even as you unpacked the bags together. You handed him the box of cookies, a small smile playing on your lips.

“You know,” you began softly, watching him place the cookies in the pantry, “I don’t care about any of it.”

He paused, his back to you, but you saw the slight stiffening of his shoulders. “Any of what?” he asked, his voice careful, guarded.

“All of it,” you replied, stepping closer to him, your hand gently resting on his arm. “The money, the status... all of it.”

Rin turned to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours, still filled with that doubt, that lingering fear that he wasn’t enough. You could see how deeply it pained him, the thought that he might be holding you back, that he wasn’t worthy of the life you were building together.

“You’re all I care about,” you continued, your voice steady, hoping he could hear the truth in your words. I’ve forgotten him. I chose you. I need to forget him – I don’t want to think about him. “I don’t care that we’re not living in a palace or that we have to drive around in a beat-up old car. This–” you gestured around the cozy cabin, the groceries, the simple life you were making together “–this is enough for me. You’re enough for me.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at you like he was trying to find the right words. The tension between you felt thick, almost tangible, as you waited for him to respond. Then, with a slow, almost reluctant nod, Rin let out a breath, the weight on his shoulders seeming to ease just a fraction.

“Okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but there was something in his eyes –something that told you he was trying to believe it, trying to let go of that doubt, even if it would take time.

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest as you reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. He leaned into your touch, just slightly, as if testing the waters, and for a moment, the space between you seemed to disappear. It hurt to see him hold himself back, to watch him act as if he had to prove himself worthy of your presence, of your love. You wished he could see himself the way you saw him: the man who had sacrificed everything, who had chosen you despite the dangers, who had stood by you when the world crumbled around you.

As you stood there, close enough to feel the warmth of his body against yours, you knew that this was where you belonged – with him, in this quiet, simple life. It wasn’t the life you had once imagined for yourself, filled with grandeur and endless possibilities, but it was a life that was real, a life built on shared struggles and small, precious moments like this. You had made your choice, and it was Rin you chose – Rin you would stay with, no matter how your heart had once pulled in another direction.

There was a time when the thought of leaving the man you truly loved would have been unbearable, when the idea of letting go of that dream would have broken you. But now, standing beside Rin, you realized that you had already begun to let go, to accept that some things were not meant to be. You had chosen loyalty, not just out of duty, but because you wanted to. You wanted to build something new, something solid, with the man who had been through so much with you. And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to believe it too.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, averting his gaze to stare at his feet instead. “It’s not… it’s going to take me a while. To become who you want, I mean. And I’m not sure if it’s going to be worth the wait but I just wanted you to know that… that I’m trying. I really am. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there, but I hope when I do, if I do, you’re still going be there.”

You nodded, a small, relieved laugh escaping your lips. “I was always there for you, aren’t I?” Rintaro nodded, his lips pursing because your words had rang true. Even in his worst, darkest moments, you hadn’t ran away. You still went back to his arms, no matter how angry you’d been, because it had always been him without question. You just hoped that he would choose you, too. “So…” you smiled in hopes to lighten up the mood, “Are you cooking tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ll take care of dinner,” he gestured to the grocery bags, “You go and change.”

You stepped into the bedroom, the familiar creak of the door a reminder of how much your life had changed. The room was small, a far cry from the grandeur of the palace, but it was cozy, filled with the little things that had come to mean so much more to you now. You pulled off your sweater and jeans, slipping into something more comfortable –a soft, worn shirt and loose pants. The cabin was warm, the faint crackle of the fireplace in the living room filling the silence as you looked out the window at the snow-covered mountains. It was hard to believe that this was your life now, so far removed from the chaos and danger that had once consumed every waking moment.

The smell of food wafted into the room, drawing you out of your thoughts.

Rin was in the kitchen, moving around with a quiet focus. He wasn’t the best cook, but he was trying, learning how to make simple meals from scratch. There was something endearing about the way he concentrated on getting things just right, even if it didn’t always turn out perfect. Tonight, though, the food smelled good – comforting, familiar, like home. You walked back into the living room, where Rin had set two plates on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. He glanced up at you as you entered, his expression softening as he took you in.

It was these moments that made everything worth it, the quiet, unspoken understanding between the two of you as you navigated this new life together.

Smiling, you sat down beside him on the sofa, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as you both began to eat. The food was simple –some kind of stew with bread on the side – but it was good, better than you’d expected. The radio played softly in the background, the crackling voice of the announcer delivering the latest international news. You listened as you ate, the names and events pulling you back to the world you’d left behind.

The news from Inarizaki was a mix of the familiar and the unexpected.

First Prince Ushijima Wakatoshi had been appointed and crowned as King – a solid, dependable choice, just as you’d always known he would be. Third Prince Kita Shinsuke had renounced his title and become a lawmaker, a decision that surprised you, though you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him finally finding his own path. The news of his engagement to Airi Yamamoto, a former maid of the palace, was even more surprising, but it made sense in a way. Kita had always been grounded, and maybe that was what he needed now. Besides, him and Airi finding love and coming out triumphant despite all the struggles… they really were a testament that sometimes, love could prevail all.

The next segment of the news, however, had your husband stiffening beside you.

Former Princess Iris Amari had been imprisoned, facing a lifetime behind bars, along with the former Queen Suna. It was hard to feel anything for them now – anger, sadness, pity – it all felt so distant, like a story you’d once heard but no longer cared to remember. Prince Tooru and Princess Maiko were expecting their first child, a new life that would carry the legacy of the royal family forward. The youngest prince, Tobio, had been chosen to represent Inarizaki in the Olympics for the Men’s Volleyball division – a bright future ahead of him, far away from the shadows of the palace.

The mention of Tobio's name made your heart ache. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him standing tall on that global stage, doing what he loved most.

But as the pride swelled in your chest, it was accompanied by a deep, gnawing sadness. Tobio had always felt like a younger brother to you, the one person in the palace who had looked up to you without judgment, who had never asked for more than your time and affection. You missed him – the sound of his laughter, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about volleyball, the bond you shared.

Leaving him behind was one of the hardest things you had to do. You wished you could have explained things to him, reassured him that your departure wasn’t abandonment. But you’d left so abruptly, without a word, and now you feared that he might think you’d chosen to disappear without a care for him. The thought of him being upset, of him feeling betrayed by your absence, weighed heavily on you.

You hoped that one day, he’d understand. That he’d see why you had to leave and that it wasn’t because you didn’t love him. You wished more than anything that you could reach out to him, but for now, all you could do was hope – hope that he was happy, that he wasn’t burdened by your absence, and that he knew, somehow, that you were still watching over him from afar, still caring for him like the older sister you’d always been.

And then there was Prince Kiyoomi.

The name hit you like a punch to the gut, even though you’d been expecting it. Recently annulled, he had chosen to return to his home country, Itachiyama, taking an official break from his royal duties. The words felt heavy, final, like a door closing that you hadn’t quite been ready to walk away from. But it was done, and there was no going back.

You tried to picture him in Itachiyama, back in that quiet, secluded farmhouse nestled among the rolling hills. The place he had always spoken of with such fondness, a sanctuary far removed from the demands of royal life. You wondered if he was happier there now, free from the suffocating expectations and endless scrutiny that had plagued his days in the palace.

Was he finding peace in the simplicity of farm life, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of his childhood? Or did the walls of that old farmhouse remind him of the time you were together, of the dreams you had once shared, and the future you had both believed in? The life you could’ve had together?

The thought of him there, alone, made your heart ache in ways you hadn’t expected. You could almost see him – sitting on the porch, the wind tousling his dark hair as he gazed out over the fields, lost in thought. Did he think of you in those quiet moments, or had he pushed you from his mind, determined to move on, just as you were trying to do?

You wanted to believe that he was content, that he had found some semblance of happiness in his old life. But the part of you that still loved him, that still felt the sting of losing him, couldn’t help but wonder if he was as heartbroken as you were.

Every time you heard his name, it was like reopening an old wound, the pain as fresh and raw as the day you had walked away. You had chosen this path, and you knew it was the right one for you and Rintaro. But that didn’t make the loss any less real, or the memories any less painful. The farmhouse in Itachiyama loomed large in your mind, a symbol of everything you had given up, and everything you could never get back. And in the quiet of your new life, far away from the palace and its ghosts, you couldn’t help but wonder if he, too, was haunted by the same memories, and if he, too, wished that things could have been different.

But what if it had been different? What if the police never went after Rintaro? What if… your husband simply left the Palace, knowing it was never a place to call his, and you’d proceeded with the annulment under the grounds that it was never a valid royal marriage?

The government would’ve let you go. No one would question your decisions, especially not after it’d been revealed to the world how Rintaro loved Iris first. And they’d been so close, too, to getting what they wanted. So close to living the life you believed to be yours, so close to having the family you dreamt of building with him. A life you’d long let go of, just as you’d decided to choose Kiyoomi when Rintaro no longer wanted you.

And yet, you were here, on the other side of the world and more than a thousand miles away from the quiet Prince who’d silently stole your heart with his actions more than his words. Here you were, anywhere but where he was.

If it had been different…

You took a deep breath, pushing the thoughts away as you leaned a little closer to Rin, letting your shoulder rest against his. He was here, with you, and that was what mattered now. The world outside could change and shift, but this – this quiet, simple life with him – was yours to keep. It wasn’t the life you dreamt of having. It would never be the life you would’ve chose to live had you had any other choice, but it was yours now. It was all you had. It was the only path you could’ve chosen, because you knew one thing to be true: the farther you were from Kiyoomi, the safer he would be.

As you finished your meal, you set your plate aside and turned the radio off, letting the silence settle around you both. Rin reached out, his hand finding yours, and you laced your fingers together, feeling the steady, reassuring warmth of his grip. It was a small thing, but it meant everything in between – I’m sorry, his touch seemed to say, as if he knew he’d stolen away your future. It’s okay, you squeezed back, putting on your softest smile as you ignored the desperate singing of another’s name from your heart.

After dinner, the two of you moved in quiet harmony, cleaning up the remnants of the meal and tidying the small kitchen.

The routine had become familiar, though not yet second nature. It was strange how quickly you had adapted to this new life – this simple, quiet existence where the luxuries of your past were nothing but distant memories. With the dishes done and the fire in the hearth dying down, you and Rintaro made your way to bed, the weight of the day settling heavily on your weary shoulders.

Usually, it was you who fell asleep first, the exhaustion of chores you were still learning how to do pulling you into an early slumber. But tonight, sleep didn’t seem to want to knock on your door. As you lay on your side of the bed, you noticed Rintaro’s breathing had already evened out, his body finally succumbing to the fatigue that had clung to him since morning. You watched him for a moment, his face softened by sleep, and you felt a pang of tenderness, mixed with something deeper – guilt, perhaps, or the remnants of a love that had once been your whole world.

Your thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Kiyoomi.

It was a mistake to let your mind wander there, but tonight you couldn’t help it. The realization came suddenly, hitting you with a quiet, painful intensity – you didn’t even have a picture of him. No physical reminders of the man who had once been your everything. You tried to recall his face, the sharpness of his features, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at you, but the image was already starting to blur. Time would do that, you knew. It would erode the edges of your memories until he was nothing more than a distant shadow in your mind. You would forget what he looked like, the sound of his voice, the way his touch had made you feel safe, loved. You could search for him, you supposed. His name would be easy enough to find, even without a phone, but you knew that would only make things harder. Seeing his face now, seeing him move on without you – it would be a fresh wound, one you weren’t ready to bear. And there was this dark voice at the back of your head warning you that you might grow weak, that you might succumb to your longing and run back to his arms if you caught a glimpse of his face.

So you couldn’t. You had to push him away, because you couldn’t push Rintaro out of your life.

The bed felt colder tonight, lonelier, even with Rintaro beside you. The space between you both seemed to stretch impossibly wide, filled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You longed for Kiyoomi in a way that was almost physical, a deep ache in your chest that you couldn’t soothe. But you were here now, with Rintaro, and this was your life. This was the choice you had made. A choice you couldn’t begin to regret now.

Just as you began to drift into a restless sleep, you heard it – a low, anguished moan coming from Rintaro. You turned to him, finding him caught in the throes of a nightmare, his body tense, his face twisted in fear and pain. He whimpered, and your heart clenched at the sound. Without thinking, you reached out to wake him, your hand gentle on his arm. But before you could, he jolted awake, eyes wide and frantic, searching the darkness as if expecting to find your side of the bed empty.

“Hey,” you whispered softly, your voice calm despite the storm inside you. “You’re okay, Rin. It was just a nightmare.”

He turned to you, his expression a mix of disbelief and relief. “You didn’t leave,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, reaching out to touch his face, to ground him in the reality of your presence as you brushed his bangs away from his eyes. He saw you a little better under the light, and he stared hard, scrutinizing your features as if he wondered if you were real.

“No, of course not. I’m right here with you.”

His eyes held yours for a moment, searching for something – reassurance, comfort, perhaps a sign that you truly meant what you said. Slowly, the tension in his body began to ease, though you could still feel the lingering effects of whatever horrors had haunted his dreams. You stayed like that for a while, your hand trailing down his cheek, his gaze locked on yours, until finally, he closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath.

You lay back down beside him, but sleep was still far from your grasp. Instead, you stared up at the ceiling, your thoughts spinning in the darkness.

You had chosen to stay, to forget the man you once loved and to build a life with the man beside you. But the memories of Kiyoomi lingered, just as Rintaro’s fears lingered, both of you trapped in a past you couldn’t entirely leave behind. And as the night wore on, you found yourself hoping – praying – that time would work its magic, that the wounds would heal, and that one day, this life would feel like enough. That this life would stop feeling like it was something you would want to run away from.

The mornings in the mountains were always serene, the world still wrapped in a blanket of soft mist as the sun slowly began its ascent. The forest, with its towering trees and the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze, had become a place of both comfort and anxiety for you. It was here that Rin had started his morning walks, slipping out of bed before dawn to find solace in the quiet solitude of the woods. But each time he left, a knot of worry tightened in your chest, fearing that one day he might not come back.

Today was no different.

You had woken early, as you had been doing for the past few months, to join him on these walks. The crisp morning air was cool against your skin, and the soft crunch of leaves beneath your boots was the only sound that accompanied your footsteps. Rin walked beside you, his hand warm around yours, guiding you through the familiar path.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the trees, you glanced up at him. His face was calm, but you could see the lingering shadows of sleepless nights in his eyes. He squeezed your hand gently, and then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he leaned in to kiss your cheek, the gesture as natural as breathing.

“I’m not sure I like this morning routine of yours,” you murmured, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

Rin’s lips curved into a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just have trouble sleeping, and taking a walk calms my mind.”

Rin’s nightmares had become a constant presence in your lives, a dark shadow that clung to the quiet of the night. At first, they were sporadic, just an occasional disruption to your sleep. You would wake to find him thrashing beside you, his breaths ragged and shallow as he wrestled with the demons of his past. A soft touch or a whispered word would be enough to calm him, to pull him back from whatever horrors plagued his dreams. But as the months passed, the nightmares grew more frequent, more intense.

There were nights when you would wake to the sound of his strangled cries, his body drenched in sweat, the bed sheets twisted around him as if they were binding him in place. His face, usually so composed, would be contorted in fear or pain, his hands gripping the mattress as though it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. It was in those moments that your heart ached the most, seeing the man you loved tormented by memories he couldn’t escape.

You tried to help him, staying awake late into the night, watching over him like a silent guardian. But the more you observed, the more you realized how deeply the nightmares had taken root. There were times when he would mumble incoherently in his sleep, his words a jumbled mix of regret and sorrow, apologies meant for someone he couldn’t reach. Sometimes, he would wake up with a start, his eyes wide and unseeing, as if still trapped in the nightmare’s grip, and it would take him several minutes to recognize where he was, to remember that he was safe.

The worst nights were the ones where he would fall back into sleep only to be dragged into another nightmare almost immediately. You would feel him trembling beside you, his breath hitching as the terror took hold again. On those nights, the darkness seemed endless, stretching on forever with no relief in sight. You could do nothing but hold him, your own heart pounding in fear for him, wishing you could take away his pain.

It wasn’t just the nights that were affected. The lack of restful sleep began to take its toll on Rin during the day. He moved through your quiet life in the mountains with a heaviness that hadn’t been there before, his shoulders constantly slumped, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. The spark that had once lit up his gaze when he looked at you was dimmed, replaced by a haunted expression that he couldn’t quite shake.

You worried for him constantly, the anxiety gnawing at you with each passing day.

The isolation of your new life, which had once felt like a blessing, now felt like a curse. There was no one here to help him, no one who could offer him the support he so desperately needed. It was just the two of you, alone in the mountains, and you felt helpless in the face of his suffering.

Rin tried to hide it, of course. He would force a smile when you looked at him too long, crack a joke to ease the tension, or brush off your concern with a wave of his hand. But you could see through the façade, see how the nightmares had begun to wear him down, chipping away at his spirit bit by bit.

As the year wore on, the nightmares became a fixture of your life, an inescapable reality that you both had to endure. And with each one, your fear grew.

You feared for Rin, for the toll this was taking on him, and you feared for the future, wondering how much longer he could withstand this torment before it broke him completely. You feared that the man you loved might one day be consumed by the darkness that haunted his dreams, and that no matter how tightly you held on to him, it wouldn’t be enough to pull him back.

You knew what that meant. The nightmares still haunted him, though he rarely spoke of them. You stopped walking for a moment, turning to face him fully. “Is it the nightmares?” you asked softly, your voice filled with concern. “Next time, you should wake me up so I can be there for you.”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at you. “I don’t know… You need to get all the rest you need.”

“Rin,” you said, your tone gentle but firm. “We’re not really doing anything here that takes up too much of my time. I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten all the rest that I need.”

He let out a soft sigh, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Fine,” he relented, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.

“You really should’ve woken me up sooner,” you continued, your tone lightening as you tried to ease the tension. “I would’ve loved watching every sunrise with you.”

He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a pause, a beat of silence where you could almost feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. And then, as if he couldn’t hold it in any longer, he asked, “Do you… do you still think about him?”

You knew immediately who he meant. The name lingered between you, unspoken but understood. “Kiyoomi.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Do you miss him?”

Your breath caught in your throat for a moment, the familiar ache of longing tugging at your heart. “I do… A lot,” you admitted, your voice soft and tinged with sadness. “But it doesn’t change a thing for me. I’d still keep on choosing to be here with you.”

He looked at you, his gaze searching, as if trying to find the truth in your words. “You really don’t regret it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head, a small, reassuring smile playing on your lips. “No. I think this is the quietest my life’s ever been, and I never thought that was possible.”

“I don’t know,” Rin said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he tried to lighten the mood. “Your life used to be pretty dull before you met me.”

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying on the cool morning air. “That’s true. My life took an unexpected turn when you came into my world.”

His smile faltered slightly, the guilt he carried still evident in his eyes. “I know it’s not going to change anything, but I’m really sorry for everything I did to you.”

You reached up, cupping his face gently in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “I know you are,” you said softly. “I won’t ever forget it, you know. The pain that you put me through. But I won’t hold it against you forever, either – we both need to move on. And the past year of being here with you… you’ve been greater to me than you ever were.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch, as if trying to absorb the comfort you offered. “I’m trying to make up for it.”

“I don’t regret it,” you repeated, your voice steady and full of conviction. “I don’t regret you.”

His eyes opened, meeting yours with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. “I know,” he said quietly. “I hope you never do.”

You and Rin had carved out a life here in the mountains, hidden away from the world, surviving on the money you had brought with you. It wasn’t much, and you knew it wouldn’t last forever, but for now, it was enough. Finding jobs was out of the question – exposure would be too dangerous, a risk neither of you could afford to take. So, you made do with what you had, stretching every resource as far as it could go.

Despite the limitations, you found a happiness that you hadn’t known was possible. The tension and fear that had defined so much of your past were gone, replaced by a warmth that grew between you and Rin.

You fell into a routine that was both simple yet deeply fulfilling – so domestic that you sometimes were struck in awe that it was possible for you and him to never argue. You cooked meals with what ingredients you had, experimenting with recipes and flavors that were new to you. Rin would clean up after, meticulously washing the dishes and wiping down the counters, always taking care to leave the kitchen spotless. It was a dance you both moved through effortlessly, a silent understanding that had formed over time on who took over which chores.

In this secluded life, you and Rin had grown more affectionate, the distance that once existed between you slowly dissolving.

It was as if you had been transported back in time to the days when he was still courting you, the days when every touch, every glance, had been filled with the thrill of new love. Now, there were stolen kisses in the middle of the day, hands that found each other in the quiet moments, and long nights spent tangled together under the blankets. It was a closeness that you had never imagined you would have with him, a warmth that made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t for years.

One chilly afternoon, you found yourself watching Rin as he chopped wood outside the cabin, preparing to build a fire to keep you both warm. He was focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he swung the axe with surprising precision. You couldn’t help but smile, leaning against the doorframe as you admired the scene. It was so different from the life you had known, and yet it felt right, like this was how things were always meant to be. Just as you were about to call out to him, your mind played a trick on you. Instead of Rintaro swinging the axe back, you suddenly pictured Kiyoomi – drenched with sweat, his shirt sticking to him as he effortlessly chopped wood. It would’ve been something he did normally back at the farmhouse.

You immediately blinked the image away.

Kiyoomi wasn’t here. You had your husband instead, dressed in a brown shirt instead of a white one like Kiyoomi always wore. Rintaro’s hair was longer now, too, long enough that he could tie the ends of it in a tiny ponytail – something he’d asked you to teach him once.

“Since when have you learned to chop wood?” you teased, the playful tone in your voice breaking the quiet.

Rin paused, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He turned to you with a grin, the familiar spark of mischief in his eyes. “YouTube teaches you a lot,” he replied, his voice light. “Look up my search history. Surviving the Wilderness: Part One.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Building a fire. Huh. I never would’ve imagined.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, as he resumed chopping the wood. “Neither did I,” he admitted. “But I’m figuring it out. Just like we’re figuring everything else out. Besides, it’s almost winter, and I don’t want us to freeze our asses off.”

You watched him for a moment longer, feeling a swell of affection as you took in the sight of him – strong, determined, doing whatever it took to keep you both safe and comfortable. The Rin you knew had always been capable, but this was different. He was adapting, learning new skills, and embracing this life with a resolve that made you love him even more.

It was in these quiet moments, surrounded by the stillness of the mountains, that you realized just how much you had both grown. The struggles you faced were real, and there were days when the challenges felt overwhelming. But you faced them together, and that made all the difference. This life was far from perfect, but it was yours, and as long as you had Rin by your side, you knew you could face anything. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the chill in the air, but it was a welcome kind of cold, one that reminded you of the warmth waiting inside. Watching Rin work, you felt a deep sense of contentment, a peace that had once seemed impossible. You were no longer the princess of Inarizaki, burdened by duty and expectations. Here, in this quiet corner of the world, you were simply a woman in love, sharing a life with the man who had become your everything.

You just had to stop thinking about the Prince you’d left behind, and everything would’ve been perfect.

After storing the chopped wood neatly beside the cabin, Rin finally built the fire, the crackling warmth spreading through the small living space. The cabin had become your sanctuary, a place where the outside world couldn’t reach you. As the fire roared to life, you prepared dinner, the aroma of simmering vegetables and spices filling the room. Rin watched you for a moment, his gaze soft and affectionate, before excusing himself for his daily walk.

You still accompanied him on his morning walks, but you had noticed that sometimes, he needed those walks alone. You didn’t question it, understanding that he needed time to process everything, to find peace in his own way. So, when he left, you focused on finishing the meal, knowing he would return soon.

When Rin came back, there was a change in him. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t look like he had been battling his demons. Instead, he seemed lighter, almost happy, with a hint of excitement in his eyes. You looked up from the table as he entered, curiosity piqued by the newfound energy in his step.

“Let’s go somewhere after dinner,” he said, his voice carrying an eagerness that made you smile.

You raised an eyebrow, playfully skeptical. “We can’t go to town so soon.”

He shook his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “We’re not going to town.”

“Then where?”

“Just trust me. You’ll love it.”

Intrigued, you agreed, and after a quick meal, Rin led you out of the cabin, guiding you through the forest paths that had become so familiar. The path to the lake was one you’d walked countless times before, the familiar crunch of leaves and twigs underfoot, the cool breeze winding through the trees, and the gentle rustling of branches overhead. You knew every rock, every bend in the trail, so when Rin had suggested taking you somewhere new, you'd been skeptical. What else could there possibly be to see?

But now, as you trailed behind him, your hand held securely in his, you couldn’t help but marvel at the way he moved with purpose, as if he were leading you somewhere magical. His broad back seemed to block the rest of the world from view, the strength in his stride grounding you, keeping you tethered right at his side. You couldn’t help the warmth blooming through your chest. A hundred times, you’d held his hand. A hundred times, you’d breathed in his scent – the smell of the soap you both shared, the scent of the cheap laundry detergent, and the hint of pine from the trees whenever he spent the day outside. A hundred times you’d had him, and still, you were caught taken aback during times like these.

He was mine now. A sentiment you had always held within your close, so confidently and so true. He was yours as you were his, even before he’d placed rings on your fingers. But this time? It felt real. Here, in the middle of nowhere where the titles are gone and your names were different on the rare times people would ask, you’d never felt more like yourself. More like his wife. Unconsciously, you squeezed his hand tighter as you let him lead you deeper into the forest.

Because you knew you would’ve followed him wherever he went.

The trees began to thin as you entered a clearing, and that’s when you saw it – a lake, nestled quietly in the heart of the woods, its surface shimmering beneath the glow of the moon. It stretched out before you, the dark water rippling gently with the breeze, reflecting the sky in a way that made the stars seem to dance on the surface.

The moonlight kissed the edges of the lake, casting an ephemeral glow that made the scene look almost unreal. The trees encircling the water stood tall and proud, their shadows dancing across the surface, adding a touch of mystery to the place. It felt secluded, hidden from the rest of the world, a secret just for the two of you. You stood there for a moment, taking it all in. The cold, biting air nipped at your skin, but the beauty of the scene made you forget the chill. Rin stood beside you now, his hand still entwined with yours.

“Oh, Rin,” you breathed, taking in the serene beauty before you. “It’s so beautiful here.”

His smile widened, pleased by your reaction. “Come on. Let’s take a dip.”

You hesitated, the chill in the air making you shiver slightly. “Isn’t it too cold for you?”

He stepped closer, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into his warmth. “I have you to warm me up.”

The moment you both dipped into the water, a sharp chill shot through your body, making you shiver and gasp at the coldness of it. Rin winced too, his shoulders tense as he adjusted to the sudden temperature. But neither of you retreated. Instead, you splashed water at him, laughing as he sputtered in surprise. He retaliated by sending a wave of water your way, both of you caught up in a playful exchange that echoed through the trees.

“Oh, you want to play like that, huh?” he spat out water, his eyes narrowed in a threat. A squeal erupted out of you when you saw him begin to flick water your direction.

The moonlight reflected off the surface of the lake, glistening as your laughter filled the night. You moved closer to Rin, clinging to him as he waded deeper, your body shaking with giggles and shivers alike. His arms were solid, reassuring as they held you steady in the water. Instinctively, you flattened your feet against his sides, hoping to steal some of his warmth, earning a quiet grumble from him. But even as he complained, you could see the amusement dancing in his eyes, the corners of his mouth fighting a smile.

You stayed like that, the two of you laughing so hard your sides ached, your cheeks flushed from the cold and the pure joy of the moment. It felt as though time had stopped, and the rest of the world had melted away, leaving just the two of you, weightless and free in the water. In that instant, nothing else mattered. It was perfect in its simplicity, a memory you could hold onto forever.

As you swam closer to him, the water rippling gently between you, there was a shift in the air.

Something heavy, almost tangible, lingered between you and Rin – an unspoken tension that made the world around you slow. You locked eyes with him, and for a moment, neither of you moved. His gaze, dark and contemplative, held yours, the weight of it sending a different kind of shiver through your body, one that had nothing to do with the cold water. The playful splashing and laughter from earlier faded into the background, leaving only the quiet sounds of the lake and the soft rustling of the trees around you.

There was a hesitation. You’d kissed Rin before – many times. It had always felt effortless, natural, like something you did without thinking, a reflex born of the years you’d spent together. But this time, the air between you was charged with something deeper, something more complicated. Both of you stood still, suspended in that delicate moment where time felt like it might fracture under the weight of what you were too afraid to say aloud.

The past lingered in the space between your bodies, reminding you of the others who had once filled your hearts. The love that still tugged at you when you thought of those times, those people. It wasn’t something either of you could escape. You had both longed for someone else, had lives once built on dreams you thought would come true with others. Yet here you were, drawn back to one another, the years of distance and heartache only sharpening the realization that what remained between you was real.

Rin made the first move, his hand hesitantly reaching out to you under the water. When his fingers curled gently around yours, it felt like a quiet promise, a reassurance. Slowly, carefully, he pulled you closer, his eyes never leaving yours. There was no rush, no urgency. Just the steady, unspoken acknowledgment that this was different. It had always been different.

As his face neared yours, you could feel your heart pounding, not with the excitement of something new, but with the quiet realization of something you had known all along. Rin leaned in, his lips brushing yours softly, as though he were testing the waters of a deeper truth. The kiss wasn’t fiery or overwhelming. There were no butterflies, no fireworks exploding behind your eyes. Instead, it was gentle, tender—like the first sip of warm tea on a cold night. His lips were familiar, comforting, and the way they moved against yours felt like coming home after a long, exhausting journey.

You breathed him in, his scent mingling with the damp earth and crisp air around you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, not out of desire but out of need—an unspoken need for the stability and love he had always offered. The world around you seemed to blur, fading into the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing and the gentle splash of water as you floated together in that quiet, peaceful moment.

There was a sweetness to the kiss, but it carried with it the weight of the past—the knowledge of all you had endured to reach this point. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that sent your heart racing; it was the kind that settled deep into your bones, reminding you of everything you had been through together, of all the things that couldn’t be undone. It was as if, in that one moment, the years of distance, pain, and longing were washed away, leaving only the simplicity of what had always been between you.

Rin held you close, his touch soft yet secure, and for the first time in a long while, you felt utterly safe. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his lips moved with a quiet reverence, made you feel like you belonged. Not to the world, or to the kingdom you’d left behind, but to him. To this moment.

There was no rush. No desperation. Only the slow, steady realization that the love you had for each other had never left. It had simply been buried beneath the weight of all the things you thought you needed to be, all the expectations and dreams that hadn’t worked out. And now, standing here with him, feeling the solidity of his presence, you knew that this was what you had been looking for all along.

The kiss ended softly, naturally, like the final notes of a lullaby, and when you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, eyes closed, soaking in the warmth of his breath against your skin. It wasn’t about passion, or excitement, or even romance. It was about finding peace in each other’s presence, knowing that no matter where life took you, this moment, this love, was the only constant.

You didn’t need the world. You didn’t need anything beyond what you had right there with him. The ache in your heart for what was lost still lingered, but it no longer hurt. It was just… there, like a distant memory. Something that had shaped you, but no longer defined you.

“I really don’t deserve you,” Rin whispered, his voice thick with emotion, the vulnerability in his words cutting through the peaceful night.

You pressed a finger to his lips, silencing his doubt. “Shhh. Nothing could hurt us now.”

He held you tighter, his face buried in your neck, and for a moment, you both just breathed, letting the quiet reassurance of your love settle between you. The weight of the past year, the fear, the guilt—it all seemed to fade in the embrace of the night, leaving only the two of you, together, stronger than ever.

For the first time in a long time, you felt truly safe. The world might have changed, your titles and riches might have been left behind, but here, with Rin, you had found something far more valuable – the promise of a marriage you’d always longed for.

Rin loved this life with you, however undeserving he thought he was.

He got to wake up next to you every morning, shared every meal with you, and could kiss and touch you whenever he liked. It wasn’t always this easy, though, he’d admit. You hadn’t always been so… giving. He knew this, because he was always watching, always looking at you whenever you thought he wouldn’t notice. And he wasn’t stupid. He’d known you for many years, had spent most of that time analyzing the slightest twitch of your brows, down to the most miniscule curl of your lip to try and decode what those gestures meant. He knew, without a doubt, you still thought of him. He also knew, undoubtedly, and with pure conviction, that you loved him still.

Just not the way you used to.

He’d long given up on that – the possibility that things would go back to the way it was. Rintaro had thrown out that absurd idea out the window. The hurt would always remain, and the lies he’d spilled would be etched bone-deep until the day he reached his grave. You wouldn’t ever forgive him, but this… having you in his home, having you in his arms, being allowed the freedom to still speak your name with that softness he’d never had with anyone before, it was enough. It would be enough, for now. He just had to pretend he couldn’t see you – the way you would tuck your cheek onto your shoulder, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you shut your eyes, each time his arm would wrap your waist before a slight, barely noticeable grimace would settle onto your features. You always acted on instinct, to always turn away and flinch each time he got near.

You thought he’d never notice. The way your eyes turn downcast, or the way your hands go still around the cheap cereal bowl you’d gotten at a fleece market each time something reminded you of the Prince you’d left behind. Each time his name was mentioned in the radio, you would freeze, your gaze travelling off the distance even though there was nothing to see but trees beyond the windows.

You thought Rintaro wouldn’t see all those things.

Nearly two years later, Rintaro could barely recognize you.

Gone was the woman he’d laid his eyes on at Tobio’s ball, the one bedazzled with the jewelry even the former Queen couldn’t have. Gone was the woman who was pampered and beloved by all. There was just you, and the faint traces of it. You’d lost weight – not enough to worry him, but enough to remind him of the comfortable and secure life he’d robbed you of, regardless if it had been your choice, too. And during the early hours of the day when sleep wouldn’t come to him, you always cried. Always. Sometimes, you cried out for your mother. But more often than not, you would always whisper his name, the sound so broken and desperate that it almost sounded like a plea. You would clutch the thin sheet (a poor excuse of a blanket, really) up to your chest, and keep crying in your sleep. The next day when you woke, Rintaro is sitting shock-still beside you on your bed, and you wonder why he couldn’t sleep at all.

You loved him. Rintaro knew that – you wouldn’t have risked it all and came with him if there wasn’t a tiny part in your heart that held him still. But he also knew you loved Kiyoomi and missed him dearly, so much so that Rintaro often has to fight the urge to call his brother and have him take you away.

Some days, he pondered on just that.

How easy it would be to buy a phone on the rare times he went downtown, call Kiyoomi, and ask him to finally come get you. He wouldn’t know what the consequences of that would be. For all he knew, he could be putting you in more danger by exposing you to the eyes of the Kingdom. He knew, however, that you might not hate the idea so much – that you might even thank him for taking on the burden of making the decision for you. Rintaro wasn’t foolish enough to not recognize that you had this pleading look in your eyes sometimes, one that begged at him to become the bad guy again, to give you a reason to run away. Maybe you wouldn’t be so inclined to stay with him anymore if he’d just let his true colors to be revealed.

Try as he might, Rintaro couldn’t find it in himself to give you anymore reasons to hate him. If anything, it was the opposite. It took him nearly a year to realize your heart was too big, too pure. No matter how much he kept his distance, telling himself that being together didn’t have to mean being together, he would always be drawn to you – and you would always coax him out of the protective walls he’d set up around his heart.

You were always there, and he hated it. He hated how you never gave him even the smallest moment to stop loving you. It could’ve been easier for him that way. Instead, you were the first thing he laid his eyes on when he woke, his name the first thing you would utter in that sleepy, raspy voice of yours as you smiled up at him with the first stretch of sunlight. How could he do it, then? How could he fall out of love with you when he’d lost everything except you? That thought itself sometimes had him wondering, too, if you loved him out of loyalty, or if you loved him because like him, you simply had nothing and no one else.

But that wouldn’t be entirely true, could it? You had your parents. You had Kiyoomi. You had some of the Princes wrapped around your finger – one who loved you like a sister, one who had a former adoration for you, and one with an unwavering loyalty in his support.

You could still have a second chance in life.

Rintaro didn’t have that anymore.

It was that realization in mind that gave him the courage to start lying to you again. Unbeknownst to you, Rintaro had been visiting the town more often. It started off as just once a week, familiarizing himself with the shops and hidden passages he could easily sneak off to. Then he began visiting more often, twice a week to finally buy a phone and contact his not-so brother.

Shinsuke, no longer Prince Kita, was now a lawmaker. From the few and far occurrences where he’d been in touch with the older man, he’d understood why Shinsuke made that decision. He’d had enough of the darkness and corruption of the monarchy – couldn’t see himself holding onto the respectable title of Prince now that he’d learned of everything the former Queen, and some of his brothers, did. Drowning in shame and anger at the Palace he’d once called home, he renounced his title and set out to make things better. With his goals aligned with Wakatoshi, who had now been crowned King, Inarizaki was recovering – little by little.

And they’d talked about you.

Wakatoshi wasn’t entirely pleased after finding out that you and Rintaro had upped and left. It didn’t change the fact you were both still criminals in the eyes of the Kingdom, but it was a Kingdom that was his. And as stoic as he may be, Wakatoshi wasn’t unforgiving. It took a few more months of convincing before he finally agreed to give you another chance – you. Not him. Regardless of whether Rintaro had never willingly played the part of the Queen’s pawn to secure her title, Wakatoshi and Shinsuke both couldn’t find any post for Rintaro within the Royal Family where he could return. But you did – you could return, and be forgiven. You could have a second chance in life.

Rintaro had never wanted to lie to you again, but he couldn’t stop it. For many nights, and many more months to come, he was only plagued by one thought as he counted his last day: the urge to finally give you the life you deserved.

Someday, he promised, I’ll make it all right for you.

Rintaro woke up before dawn, the faint light just beginning to creep through the curtains. You were still asleep beside him, your breath slow and steady, your face soft with peace that was rare in the waking world. For a moment, he let himself lie there, watching you, memorizing every detail – how your hair fanned out on the pillow, the curve of your lips, the way you unconsciously curled toward him.

He was living the dream. Every morning, he woke up next to you, and he could kiss you whenever he wanted. It was everything he’d ever hoped for when you first chose him, when you left everything behind to build this life together. But deep down, he knew it couldn’t last. This life, as peaceful as it seemed, was fragile. The simplicity, the isolation – it was wearing on you. He could see it in the way you hesitated at the store, holding back from buying the things you liked. He noticed how you’d glance at the few items in the cart and sigh quietly, as if you were measuring out not just money, but a piece of yourself each time. You were budgeting your life now, in a way that went far beyond groceries.

It wasn’t just about the material things either. You weren’t able to talk to people like you used to, to be yourself.

You were hiding. From the world, from your past, from the person you once were. You’d severed almost every connection to the ones you loved – Tobio, Kiyoomi, your family –all because you couldn’t risk being found. He’d never forget that time your mother’s birthday came around, and you excused yourself during dinner, hiding in the bathroom where you muffled your cries upon missing them. And staying here, with him, meant you’d have to keep living this way, in the shadows.

He couldn’t let it go on.

Rintaro closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He didn’t deserve you, he never had. And now, he was starting to see that staying with him might be ruining your life. You deserved more than this half-existence. More than the fear of being discovered, more than rationing out pieces of yourself just to survive. He wanted to keep you with him forever, but he knew deep down that this was too good to be true. One day, something would break – either the life you’d built together or your spirit. And he couldn’t bear to see you trapped any longer.

As you stirred beside him, your eyes fluttering open, he forced a smile, brushing your hair gently from your face. But in his heart, he knew what he had to do. He had to let you go. For your sake, even if it meant losing everything he ever wanted.

“Hey,” you breathed out, a small smile on your face. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he echoed, his voice croaking more than he’d like. He couldn’t help it; he felt like there was a lump in his throat, making it difficult to speak. “I’m…” I’m sorry, he wanted to say, I love you and I’m sorry. The words never left his lips. “I’m going to prepare you breakfast, and then go out to prepare some firewood.”

The lie was easy enough to tell. It was a routine you’d gotten used to – he always woke up first to prepare your meals while you showered, so you could eat right away right after. Rintaro would share his breakfast with you, often dropping a berry or two onto your plate, urging you to eat more. Shortly after, he’d disappear out in the woods to look for firewood, and you would set out to wash the laundry, or whatever it was that you did when he wasn’t around.

You didn’t question him as he left the bed. To you, it would just be any other day. But to him, it might as well be the last time he ever saw you, so he allowed himself to indulge in the sight of you a little longer.

The straps of your nightgown were slipping down one shoulder, one of your hands on top of it as you stretched your muscles. Your eyes were closed, and with the sunlight dripping behind your languid form, Rintaro was almost tempted to stay. To tell Shinsuke he’d changed his mind. To tell your parents that he was sorry, yet again, because he wanted to stay with you a little longer.

Rintaro closed the bedroom door shut behind him, willing himself to keep walking away. He couldn’t back out – not now.

The smell of breakfast cooking puled you from bed, and you quietly made your way to the kitchen, drawn in by the warmth of it all – Rintaro at the stove, the soft sizzle of food frying. He stood there, stirring something in the pan, but his mind seemed far away. You paused at the doorway, watching him. His broad shoulders, the gentle concentration etched on his face.

A smile tugged at your lips as you walked over, lightly bumping his arm. “Hey,” you teased. “You’re spacing out again.”

He’d been doing that more often. Just randomly staring out into space, and it’d take you more than three times to call out his name before he snapped out of it. It was slightly hilarious, you thought. How he went from being this effortless charmer to this almost shy, reserved man you called your husband. It was as if… the loss of his titles, and the identity he’d known, had given way to the appearance of this not-so new person. Someone quieter, someone gentler, someone more tender. You couldn’t say you didn’t like it. Nevertheless, it was slightly alarming at first. How someone could change so much – but you weren’t a stranger to that, were you? You’d seen Rintaro in his best and worst, and somehow, learned to love him in both.

He blinked, startled, then turns to you with a soft smile, shaking his head as if to clear the thoughts that had taken him away. “It’s nothing,” he said, but his gaze lingers on you, warm and tender. And then, without warning, he added, “You’re beautiful.”

The words hit you harder than expected. You hadn’t felt beautiful in a long time – not with the way things had been. The stress, the hiding, the weight of everything hanging over your head. But the way he looked at you just then, like you were the one who hung the moon and stars, you couldn’t help but believe he meant it. His eyes were so full of love, so full of something deep and true, warmth spread all over your skin.

You tried to play it off, hiding your smile behind your hand as you lean against the counter beside him. “You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled with a shy laugh, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart felt lighter, the way his words made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in so long.

The moment stretched in silence, comfortable and intimate, with the soft clatter of dishes and the gentle aroma of breakfast filling the space between you. You watched as Rintaro moved around the kitchen, steady and familiar, and for a fleeting second, everything feels perfect. Simple, but perfect.

When he finally plated the food, he hands you yours first, and wordlessly drops an extra helping from his own plate onto yours. It was a small gesture, but it made you smile wider. He always did things like that – quietly making sure you were taken care of, in all the little ways that spoke louder than words.

You didn’t argue. Instead, you sat down at the table, your heart full as you glanced at him. In the smallest acts, there was love. And as you sat there, the morning sunlight filtering through the window, the quiet hum of life surrounding you both, you realized just how much he meant to you. How much you loved him, too.

After breakfast, you took the plates to the sink, rolling up your sleeves as the warm water rushes over your hands. The clink of dishes and the soft hum of your thoughts filled the room while Rintaro puts on his jacket, getting ready to head out and gather firewood. He caught your eye before leaving, giving you that small, reassuring smile that always makes your heart twist. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. The weight of everything hangs in the unspoken silence between you both.

Once the door closes behind him, the house felt quieter, emptier. You wiped down the table, the counters, and then swept the floor, keeping yourself busy. There was always something to clean or tidy up, something to organize in this new life you’ve carved out together. It wasn’t much, but it was enough – at least for now.

But as you moved around the small house, thoughts crept in. You sit down at the table again, pulling out what little remains of the money your parents had given you when they sent you both off. The stack was thin, much thinner than it used to be. You counted the bills, the coins, over and over, but no matter how you add it up, it was clear that it wasn’t going to last.

A sigh escaped your lips as you pressed your fingertips against your forehead, trying to push away the rising anxiety. You’d already been careful, budgeting, avoiding any unnecessary purchases, only getting the bare essentials, but the truth was unavoidable. It wasn’t enough. Soon, it will run out, and what then? You would be lying if you said you never considered this life was going to be permanent now. You would be lying again if you also said that the thought of having children didn’t cross your mind, and how could it not? It had been nearly two years since you’d lived here, and Rintaro had been nothing but perfect. You and him were finally living the peaceful married life you’d always dreamt of – where you woke up tangled in each other’s arms, listened to each other’s stories with rapt attention, and loved each other like today was going to be your last. Especially after that one night at the hidden lake, all the feelings you’d buried beneath a mountain of pain and hurt had resurfaced. You began to want him more, began to long for the next time he’d kiss you again, and even if he’d taken you night after night until you woke up late, sore and thoroughly loved, you couldn’t get enough of it. Couldn’t get enough of him.

The fake identities your parents had provided had been your lifeline, a way to survive without being recognized. But it wasn’t enough to keep you both hidden forever. Even with new names and fabricated pasts, the constant paranoia lingered. Getting a job would expose you, especially when neither of you knew the world outside the palace or the kingdom you’d left behind. You had no skills for this life, and the fear of being caught only made it harder to even try.

You glanced around the small space, the modest kitchen, the worn furniture, and the faint scent of breakfast still lingering in the air. It wasn’t the life you were born into, but it was the life you chose. And despite the uncertainty, despite the fear that gnawed at the back of your mind, you wouldn’t trade it. Not for anything.

Still, the weight of it all pressed down. You stood up and move to the window, watching the faint outline of the forest where Rintaro had disappeared. He’d be back soon, arms full of firewood, his face a little flushed from the cold. You could picture it clearly, his warm smile as he set the logs down by the hearth, the small moments of peace you found in each other’s company.

But for now, you were alone with your worries. You folded the bills neatly and tucked them away, pushing the anxiety to the back of your mind. It wouldn’t help to dwell on it – although maybe having a child was out of the question now. Not when you and Rintaro could barely get through.

Unable to help it, your mind drifted back to the beach house he’d bought for you.

And here’s the backyard – plenty of space for our future kids to play in. I’m thinking twins, one boy and one girl, and then we’ll stop trying for another. Two little devils should be enough. The boy needs to be the eldest though, so he can protect his little Princess. You smiled at the memory, reminiscing of a time when you had the world and everything else – before everything fell apart. Gaze trailing from where Rintaro had left, you sighed. You missed him already.

So you waited, listening to the ticking of the clock, the quiet creaks of the house, and the sound of the wind outside, hoping that somehow, everything will be okay. Because despite the uncertainty, despite the fear, you trusted him. And in this quiet moment, that trust is all you have. Everything would work out. It just had to.

When Rintaro finally returned, with an armful of firewood and his boots laden with dirt, you all but rushed out the door and rushed into him. It took him a few seconds before he realized what you were doing, and hastily dropped the wood beneath his feet. A small ‘oomph’ escaped his chest as you ran into his arms, your chest colliding with his. Arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his waist, you breathed in the scent of him – like sweat, soap, and a hint of pine. He smelled so Rintaro, and entirely all yours.

“Whoa,” he exclaimed, slightly swaying from how you nearly knocked him over.

Heat crept up the back of your neck as it dawned on you what you did, and you grimaced, burying your head deeper into his neck. “Sorry. I just missed you too much.”

“I wasn’t gone for that long.”

“It felt like a long time,” you murmured, pulling back to glance at what he’d gathered. “Did you get enough firewood?”

“I did, yeah,” he nodded, not once letting go of you. His hand ran up and down your spine in soothing motions, much like how he often did to lull you to sleep after a long night of making love. Your body reacted instantaneously at the gesture. Grinding down on him, you bit your lip, too shy to meet his gaze when your husband inhaled sharply. “I-I’ll get started on dinner.”

You tried not to let disappointment get to you when he put you down. “Wait,” you called out to him, and Rintaro stopped, briefly glancing at you over his shoulder. “Your hair’s getting long.”

“Oh,” he touched the tips of his hair, as if only realizing now he’d grown out bangs. “I guess it is.”

“Come here. I’ll give you a haircut.”

His hair had grown out a lot since you’d left everything behind, and while you loved the messy, rugged look on him, you’d been itching to tidy it up. Without waiting for a response, you grabbed a spare sheet, tied it around his neck, and led him to the chair.

He didn’t protest, just sat there quietly as you combed your fingers through his hair. The room fell into a thick silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable – it was heavy, like there was something unsaid between you. The scissors made soft snipping sounds as you worked, trimming away the overgrown locks, and you could feel his gaze on you, though he never said a word. Every so often, your fingers brushed the back of his neck, and you could feel the heat between you both rising.

You tried to focus on the task at hand, but your mind kept wandering. There was something about this moment, the quiet intimacy of it. You weren’t just cutting his hair – it was like you were touching something deeper, something that had been building between you for a while now. And it scared you a little.

When you finished, you stepped back, admiring your work. His hair was shorter than you’d intended, but it suited him. He looked different, more mature. His sharp features were more pronounced now, no longer hidden behind the shaggy locks. It made him look… handsome. More than that, he looked like the man you knew he was, someone who had been through so much, and yet, still stood strong. Not quite such a Prince anymore, yet he couldn’t look more like himself. More like the Rintaro you’d fallen for even without the pretense of titles.

Before you realized it, you had moved closer again, your body almost instinctively finding its way to his lap. You settled there without thinking, knees on either side of him as you stared at his new haircut. Your hands rested lightly on his shoulders, and the proximity made your heart race. You couldn’t help but admire him, running your fingers through the now-short strands. He looked up at you, and for a moment, the tension between you snapped tight. His eyes held yours, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. There was a quiet intensity in the way he looked at you, and for the first time, you truly saw him – no distractions, no walls, just Rintaro.

The way he looked at you made your breath hitch. It wasn’t just admiration – it was need, want, something that had been simmering between you both, unspoken but undeniable. And in that moment, sitting on his lap, your hands in his hair, it was clear you felt it too.

As you sat there, the air between you thick with tension, Rintaro’s hands slowly found their way to your waist, his touch hesitant at first, as if he wasn’t sure if he should. But once his fingers settled there, gripping gently, the hesitation melted away. Your pulse quickened, your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel the familiar warmth spreading through your body. The simplicity of his touch made it all the more intense.

Neither of you spoke, but words weren’t necessary. The atmosphere was charged with a mix of longing and vulnerability. You had been so close to him for so long – sharing the same space, the same struggles, the same quiet moments—but this was different. It felt like you were both finally acknowledging what had always been there, hidden beneath the surface.

Rintaro’s eyes searched yours, and for a second, he looked like he might say something, but instead, he just exhaled softly, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. You weren’t sure if it was the way his breath hitched or the intensity of the moment, but you found yourself leaning down, your foreheads almost touching, the space between you growing impossibly small.

His gaze flickered down to your lips, and that was when you both hesitated again. You had kissed before, many times, but this felt different, weighted with the emotions you had tried to keep at bay. Neither of you could pretend anymore—there was no turning away from the truth. The love, the guilt, the fear, it all hovered between you, heavy and real.

And then, he leaned in, finally bridging the gap. The kiss wasn’t hurried or heated – it was slow, deliberate, like both of you were savoring this moment for what it was. His lips against yours felt comforting, familiar, and yet this time, it felt like more. The gentle press of his mouth, the way he cradled your face afterward, it all spoke of a kind of tenderness that had been growing between you for longer than either of you realized.

There were no fireworks, no sudden rush of heat. Instead, there was something even more powerful – an overwhelming sense of rightness. As his hands moved from your waist to pull you closer, you melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours as you clung to him. It was a moment suspended in time, and it felt like home. You breathed him in, your fingers threading through his freshly cut hair, and in that quiet, shared space, you both allowed yourselves to be vulnerable.

The kiss ended, but you didn’t move, your foreheads resting together as you caught your breath. It wasn’t explosive or wild; it was gentle and grounding. In his arms, you felt safe, like no matter what happened outside of this moment, you’d always have this – each other.

And for the first time in a long while, you both let yourselves believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

“I love you,” you blurted out, and Rintaro stiffened beneath your fingers.”

“…What?”

“I said, I love you,” you repeated, feeling like a weight had been lifted off your chest now that you’d said it. Deep down, you always had. The love that you had for him never disappeared – it was always there, lingering, sometimes more of a quiet voice that never spoke. But it was definitely roaring now in your chest, threatening to claw its way out of your chest as you held his gaze. “I know that… it hasn’t been easy, and I hadn’t said it in a long time, but I thought you should know. I love you, Rin. I never stopped loving you.”

Your husband shuddered beneath you, looking equally tortured and relieved. “But you can’t,” he whispered, his voice broken. “I haven’t been good to you. I never was from the start. I lied, and I cheated, and I hurt you again and again. I’m not someone who deserves your love.”

“I know,” you admitted, and something unreadable crossed in his face. “But I can’t help it, can I?” You were crying now, feeling the tears slip down your cheek before you could stop it.

“I don’t want you to regret it.”

You closed your eyes, grazing your lips to his. “That’s my decision to make.”

As you sat on his lap, your heart raced in your chest, the quiet tension between you shifting into something heavier, something desperate. His hands tightened on your waist, fingers digging in just a little more firmly than before, and you felt the heat of his body beneath yours. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thickening with unspoken need.

You weren’t sure who moved first – maybe it was him, maybe it was you – but the next kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow or tender. It crashed over you like a wave, urgent and raw, as if neither of you could wait another second. His lips claimed yours with a fervor that startled you, and you responded in kind, matching his intensity as your hands moved to grip his shoulders, your fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt.

The softness from before was gone, replaced with something almost wild. Your breath mingled in short, sharp gasps as his mouth moved against yours, hungry and demanding. It wasn’t angry, not really, but it felt like a release – of every emotion you’d been holding back, every moment of doubt, fear, and longing. His kiss was hard, almost bruising, but you welcomed it, pulling him closer, needing to feel him, to drown in him.

Your hands slid from his shoulders to the back of his neck, pulling him in as if you were afraid he might slip away. His hands roamed your back, pulling you flush against him, his touch rougher than usual, like he couldn’t get close enough, like it wasn’t enough to just hold you.

The heat between you flared, your bodies pressed together as if you could fuse into one, and the kiss deepened, growing more intense with every second. It felt like you were pouring everything you had into it – every fear, every hope, every piece of yourself that you had tried to keep hidden. His lips moved with an urgency that made your head spin, and you met him with the same frantic energy, kissing him harder, deeper, until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. The world outside faded into nothing, your mind consumed by the feel of his mouth on yours, the way his hands gripped you like he couldn’t bear to let go.

How you stumbled back to the bedroom was beyond you. The next thing you knew, you were being dropped onto the softness of your bad, Rintaro’s larger frame hovering over you. Your clothes abandoned on a pile next to his. Every worshipping touch on your body wasn’t sweet or careful. It was overwhelming, chaotic, and messy, filled with all the things you’d both tried to hold back. But it was real, and in that moment, you both gave in to it, to each other, with everything you had.

When you’d both crashed with pleasure, your name spoken in garbled moans, it felt like you had just stepped off the edge and found that he was there to catch you. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

When you woke up that morning, it was with a sense of warmth and contentment you hadn’t felt in so long. The remnants of the night before lingered in your mind, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. You stretched beneath the covers, feeling the ache of last night in your bones but relishing the memory. You smiled, thinking of Rin, his touch, his kiss – how intimate you had been.

But the bed beside you was empty, and the sheets were cool. He was an early riser, so you didn’t think much of it at first. Maybe he was out on one of his usual morning walks through the woods to clear his head. You sighed, rolling over and pulling the blanket tighter around you for a few more minutes of quiet bliss before getting up.

When you finally rose from bed, the house was eerily still. You called out for him, expecting to hear his familiar voice call back, but there was only silence. It didn’t bother you at first – it wasn’t unusual that he had gone to gather some firewood; maybe he was preparing something outside. You went about your routine, washing up and getting dressed, still feeling a soft smile on your face.

But as the hours ticked by and there was no sign of Rin, a quiet sense of unease began to creep in. You stepped out into the cold, hoping to catch a glimpse of him by the tree line or near the shed. But there was nothing. Not a single footprint in the frost-covered ground, no telltale signs of him chopping wood or setting off on his usual walk.

Your pulse quickened. You hurried back inside, checking the small kitchen where he might have left a note, but there was nothing there either.

The unease sharpened into something colder and more piercing as you wandered into the bedroom and noticed it – his things were gone. His coat, once draped over the chair, and his boots, lined up neatly by the door, had vanished. The small bag he always kept packed with essentials was nowhere to be seen. The room, which had once been a haven of shared moments and passionate kisses, felt hollow, the absence of his presence rendering the space unbearably large and desolate.

A wave of disorientation washed over you, and you instinctively began opening drawers and rifling through closets, desperate to find some sign of his belongings. But each drawer you opened and every closet you searched yielded nothing but emptiness. His clothes, the few personal items that had once filled the room with his essence, were gone. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air, leaving no trace behind.

Panic surged through you, a rising tide of fear and confusion.

Your heart raced as you moved from room to room, your steps growing more frantic with each passing second. You searched under furniture, peered into corners, and even checked the storage spaces, hoping beyond hope that this was all just a terrible misunderstanding. But every corner you turned revealed only more absence, more vacancy, and the knot in your chest tightened painfully with each revelation of what was missing.

In the midst of your growing despair, your eyes caught sight of a small, folded piece of paper resting on the bedside table. Your hands trembled as you reached for it, unfolding it with a mixture of dread and anticipation. The note, penned in his familiar handwriting, offered no immediate comfort, but it was a tangible reminder that, even in his departure, he had left something behind – a final, aching fragment of his presence amid the overwhelming void.

He was gone.

You stood in the middle of the room, heart pounding in your chest as the realization fully sank in. The warmth you had woken up with was gone, replaced by a cold, hollow feeling you couldn’t shake. He’d left, and he hadn’t even said goodbye.

Exhaling through shaky breaths, you read the letter.

to my wife,

I want to begin by saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the pain and confusion I put you through. I know that no words can truly convey how much I regret knowing that I’d broken your heart, and continuously trampled on the trust you’d given me time and time again. I will forever be haunted by the memory of the hurt I’ve inflicted upon you, and I will never forgive myself for the sorrow I’ve brought into your life. You never deserved any of that, just as I never deserved the love you so freely gave me.

The past two years living in the cabin with you have been the greatest of my life.

Those moments, those days when it felt as though we were truly a happy husband and wife, those days when it felt as if nothing in the world could touch us ever again, are memories I will cherish for the rest of my life. Sometimes, in those quiet evenings, I allowed myself to dream and dared to hope that this life could be real – that we could live without fear, without pain. It was a fleeting hope, nothing but a silly dream of mine. A beautiful illusion that, even now, makes me yearn for what might have been. What could have been.

But the truth is… I couldn’t bear to see us – to see you – living in this constant state of hiding and looking over our shoulders out of fear. I couldn’t continue to witness the toll that our isolation, our running away, has taken on you, knowing that it was all because of me. We fled the kingdom to escape the consequences of my poorly timed decisions, and now I am confronted with the unbearable reality that our love and our lives are marred by the very choices I made. I could only run so far from them. There is only so much distance I can put between me and the past, but the ghosts of my mistakes will always haunt me, and I can no longer stand and watch as you, too, suffer from it.

You have shown me a love and loyalty that I didn’t deserve, and for that, I am eternally grateful. Even when I faltered, when I was unworthy of your affection, you stood by me. When you learned of the lies I’ve told you, you still gave me the benefit of the doubt. Your unwavering loyalty and support has been both my solace and my shame. I cannot remain by your side any longer, not when I know that our suffering is a direct consequence of my failures. It was my fault that we had to leave our country, the place you called home and where your family was.

I know that time and time again, you’ve reassured me you don’t regret it. I know you wouldn’t have changed it for anything, that you have come to accept the reality of our life. I never doubted you, but I doubt myself. I always will. I could try my hardest to become someone good for you, someone worthy of you, and I fear that’s something I could never live up to you. Every time I look at you, I am reminded of who you are – someone who had always been too good for me. Someone who’d thrown away her life just so I wouldn’t be alone. Someone who’d betrayed her country and willingly followed me when I myself didn’t know where to go. You had always been perfect, always too loving, always putting others before yourself. You wouldn’t have chosen otherwise, which is why I decided to do make that choice for you instead.

I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.

I had to leave while you were asleep, because I feared that if I stayed, I would change my mind and keep you in this play pretend of house. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I believe it was the only choice that will allow you to find peace and healing. I hope you will understand that I am doing this because I want the best for you, even if it means I must be gone from your life.

Please know that I love you enough that I’m willing to accept you’re going to keep hating me again from now on. My heart aches knowing that I’d left you alone in this strange place, but it was the only thing I could do. I know you miss your parents, and you miss how your life used to be. I couldn’t keep you apart from them any longer.

Don’t be scared of what may lie ahead. There isn’t much that I can do for you, but I’ve already arranged and secured your safe return to Inarizaki. Wakatoshi has reassured me of this, and sooner or later, you will be escorted to reunite with your parents. Tobio is waiting for you, too.

I hope that, in time, everything will make sense, and that you will find the happiness and freedom that you deserve. As you read this letter, I’m probably miles away already. Please do not come looking for me, because I may find it impossible to not keep you to myself a little longer.

Forever yours, in love and regret,

Rintaro

The letter trembled in your hands, each word becoming a blur as your tears began to fall.

The ink started to smudge and bleed, his neat handwriting dissolving into dark, spreading blotches. Your sobs wracked your body, each cry an echo of the betrayal and heartbreak that consumed you.

As the reality of his abandonment sank in, the air around you seemed to close in, heavy with the weight of his departure. You felt as though you were suffocating, the room closing in with the oppressive silence of his absence. The letter slipped from your hands, but you clutched it desperately as though it were a lifeline, the only connection left to the man who had left you behind.

In a frantic haze, you ignored his request to not come looking for him, a surge of determination driving you outside. Your feet were bare, and the cold ground met them with unforgiving harshness. The chill and roughness of the terrain did little to slow you down, and you pushed through, driven by a desperate need to find him. He couldn’t be that far, but then again, you couldn’t tell how long you’d been asleep for. Still, you ran, each step a mix of pain and desperation, the ground cutting into your feet until they were raw and bleeding. The physical pain was a distant second to unforgiving way your heart shattered into pieces, the vision of his face and the agony of his departure the only thing driving you forward.

Hours seemed to stretch endlessly as you searched, your hope dwindling with each passing minute.

Exhaustion began to overtake you, your legs heavy and your breaths labored. The landscape blurred around you, a twisted mirage of your torment. At the back of your head, you swore you could still see him – could still see his broad back watching the sunrise, could still feel his warm hands interlacing with yours through the morning fog. Even if he was no longer there.

Spent and broken, you collapsed onto the cold ground, clutching the letter tightly against your chest. Your bare feet, now wounded and battered, throbbed with pain, but the physical hurt was insignificant compared to the emptiness carved out in your heart.

Bone weary, you laid on the cold ground, tears mixing with the dirt, the letter your only solace. You held the wrinkled letter close to your chest, the only sound was the ragged whisper of your sobs, echoing into the forest where his presence used to be.

Hours passed you by.

You laid there, unmoving, the cold ground helping you numb your aching heart. Just as the forest seemed to blanket you within its freezing embrace, you heard the distant sound of footsteps. They grew closer, and you looked up, your heart pounding with a mix of dread and hope. You’d expected to see Rintaro, desperately hoping that he’d taken back his words and returned. That he never meant to leave, and he was here to stay. And then, as if conjured by your deepest longing and torment, he appeared – the very man who plagued your dreams, the one you had chosen to leave behind.

Kiyoomi.

The past two years had been kind to him, despite his grief. He stood a little taller, if not a little broader, too. But it was evident on his face, the misery that you were certain mirrored yours. His face that had been etched with a permanent frown darkened upon the sight of you – laid out in the floor caked in dirt, shivering in nothing but a nightgown and Rintaro’s letter clutched upon your chest. Wordlessly, he hurried to you. Crouching beside you, his movements were swift and sure, like having you in his arms was the most natural thing and he was simply reclaiming what was his. Gently, he lifted you into his arms, cradling you as though you were the most precious thing in the world. His coat, warm and familiar and still smelling like him, enveloped you, shielding you from the night’s gold.

And he still felt like home.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder. Just like that, the dam had broken – your sorrow flooded through, your cries erupted at the back of your throat, raw and unrestrained. Kiyoomi pulled you closer, his embrace tender yet firm, as he was afraid holding you tighter would further break you apart.

He placed gentle kisses on your forehead, rocking you back and forth as an attempt to soothe you. As you clung to him, the warmth of his body and the softness of his touch eased your trembling. His arms held you tightly, enveloping you in his embrace like a protective shield.

He felt like a sanctuary in the storm – warm and reassuring. You yearned to nestle against his chest, to bury your face in the comforting curve of his embrace, and hold on tightly while you let the storm pass. Only it never would, even if the storm had already done its damage and travelled a hundred miles away. Kiyoomi could never undo the damage it had left in its wake.

“It’s okay,” he murmured against your hair, and for once, you doubted how true his words would be. “I’m going to take you home now.”

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

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aneluvs · 2 years ago

Text

magnetic mishap | bucky barnes

summary: you bought magnets for Bucky's arm, forgetting that vibranium is not magnetic

warnings: fluff, no use of y/n, gn!reader, drunk!reader, alcohol consumption, tears, bucky in love™ (if i missed any pls lmk!)

word count: 0.8k

A/N: i saw this post by @redwolf1123 and i couldn't help myself! this is my first ever bucky fic! i hope i did him justice :) English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammar/ spelling mistakes. feedback is appreciated!

The living room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the floor lamp casting a warm ambiance. Bucky Barnes sat on the olive-colored couch, resting his head on the taupe throw pillows you'd fawned over at the flea market, obsessing over the embroidered leaves on the pillows, exclaiming how well they'd match with the couch you'd bought when you first moved in the apartment. That was a memory he was fond of. It was after your first year together- when you moved in together, deciding to look for apartments in Brooklyn.

His legs were propped up comfortably on the other end of the couch. A copy of The Hobbit you gifted him sat in his hands, his eyes flitting over each word, totally engrossed in the worn-out book with deckle edges and a spine that can barely hold up itself he'd read many times.

He looked up from his reading as muffled giggles and the clinking of keys sounded from outside, along with a few curse words as you tried to fit the keys into the lock. After a minute or so, the front door creaked open, and in you came, a stumbling, drunken mess. Bucky's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, his heart constricting at the bright look on your face as your eyes zeroed in on him.

"Hi, baby!" You called out, your voice slightly slurred with the telltale signs of a fun night out with your friends.

Bucky closed his book, placed it on the coffee table, and waited for you to reach the couch, a smile spreading across his face. He loved these moments- when you returned home all giddy and carefree. You were a ray of sunshine, lighting up his dark, lonely world.

"Hey, doll," Bucky replied, his voice filled with affection, and adoration, as he watched you walk towards him. His eyes were twinkling with love as you finally reached him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, guiding you into his lap, and you immediately snuggled up, like it was second nature for you- which it was. "You had a good time tonight?"

You nodded enthusiastically, your head all but bopped up and down and swayed from side to side, your face flushed. "The best time! We danced, and- and we... oh! I have something for you!" You reached into your purse, retrieving a small package wrapped in colorful paper.

Bucky's curiosity was piqued as he took the package from you, carefully unwrapping it, and revealing a set of magnets. His eyes widened in surprise. "Magnets?"

You nodded again, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "For your arm!" Your words slurred slightly as you laughed, your intoxication making the idea seem absolutely brilliant.

You took out a heart-shaped magnet, trying to stick it on Bucky's arm, to no avail. It kept falling; you huffed, annoyed, and took out another magnet from the set, this time, one shaped like a rocket ship. Aggravation was quick to take the place of your excitement when it kept falling as well.

Bucky chuckled softly, his heart melting at your drunken enthusiasm. He glanced down at his vibranium arm, knowing that the magnets wouldn't stick, he felt kind of guilty having to break the news to you. "Doll, vibranium isn't magnetic."

Your smile faltered, and your brows furrowed in disappointment. Your intoxicated glee quickly transformed into genuine heartbreak, as tears welled up in your eyes. "I... I didn't think about that," you murmured, voice laced with sadness and disappointment.

Bucky's heart ached at the sight of your distress. He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear that had escaped. "Hey, hey, it's alright," he whispered soothingly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You didn't know. It's the thought that counts."

You sniffled, lower lip trembling. "But I wanted to your arm to look even cooler. Imagine how cool it would look with magnets, Buck."

Bucky's heart swelled with love and adoration. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing at your antics. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you sighed at the feathery touch of his lips, seemingly content for the time being.

"I love you, Bucky," you whispered, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips, your eyes shimmering with affection.

"I love you more than words can express," Bucky confessed, his voice filled with sincerity.

At that moment, everything else faded away. Sat in Bucky's lap, wrapped in his arms, your love for one another radiating throughout the room.

"C'mon," Bucky ushered, "let's get you to bed, honey." His voice was gentle.

"Next time, I'm getting stickers," you mumbled to yourself, a very serious look on your face.

Bucky smiled blissfully, a blush adorning his face. As he held you, he knew that his love for you was unbreakable, even in the face of small disappointments. Your bond was stronger than any magnet could ever be.

i hope you liked it, pls let me know what you thought of this. likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #bucky #bucky barnes x you #the avengers #marvel #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot

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edgeray · 8 days ago

Text

I BESEECH YOU

Goddess! Arlecchino x Reader

You fear that your death draws near. You pray to be spared from suffering when you meet your fate.

Content warnings / info - none

When you're a dying individual, time swims past you, ungraspable and constantly evading you. There is almost too much time and never enough of it, a phenomenon that only comes to those whose mercy is death. While you bide your time, waiting for the inevitable to approach, there are still things that need to be tended to. Your farm and animals reserves no impatience despite your aching body and weakening limbs. Still, you find it hard to gripe when they preoccupy you from your fate.

No physician that has found a cure for your ailment, a medical anomaly for someone whose age was just ripe for marrying a reliable, decent man. Oh, how the villagers pity you, yet have not spared a single moment of their time or peace of mind for you.

Winter draws near. Whispers on the streets tell you that this year's harvest was abysmal. A famed apostle foretells that this winter will be harsher than the last. The nobles have, expectedly, stockpiled much of the village's harvest, and your neighbors were left to barter for remains and leftovers. Mania runs amok in the markets. The village brims with a fraught energy, despair palpable in the sad sight of the commoners.

It's an omen, you think. Just as your condition starts to worsen, every breath grows more labored than the last with each frigid and snow-casted night. Even now, with the fur-lined coat and the wool hat, the chill penetrates into your skin. You clutch onto the loaf of bread and bundles of fruit a little closer to your body as you traverse through the snow. It crunches underneath your feet, each bare step another dose of iciness injected into your veins. You shudder and lift your gaze.

A forgotten, barren shrine greets your view, a crumbling but no less sacred sanctuary. A relieved huff escapes from you.

The villagers have long abandoned this shrine and its goddess a long time ago. When the town began prospering, there sprung up many other trivialities for villagers to fret over–not when death seems so distant. When fields thrive, the weather is fair, the villagers’ pockets are full, and the nobles bless them with protection, death comes for few. Why worship the Goddess of Death when you can earn Lord Pantalone's blessing or be gifted with Lord Dottore's longevity and vitality? No longer is death a contagious disease, more so an afterthought. You used to think this way before you were struck with a curious illness. What use does currency have when you're dying? Why had Lord Dottore cursed you?

You kneel before the house of Lord Arlecchino. The coarse ground bites into your skin. The remains of your past offerings suggest that some critters have gotten to them before your Goddess has. Pesky creatures. You lay down the offerings in the center, before closing your eyes.

“Almighty Lord Arlecchino. I greet you, my Goddess of Death. How do you fare?” There is silence, but you still wait for an answer.

“I apologize this time for my lacking offerings. If you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I would be gratified. This year's harvest was not abundant… perhaps my village's luck has been used up. I believe there will be a lot of souls for you to collect. And… I will be among them,” you profess quietly, looking up at the ceiling.

You dip your head back down, inhaling deeply. “I know I have provided only humble gifts to you. But I have been devoted to you for years… I have taken care of this place of worship… may I ask of you for one thing, my Lord?”

The wind whistles through the shrine, and a gust kisses your skin. You take it as a sign to continue. “If you deem me worthy of this grace, then… I would like to die without suffering. If possible… I would like to pass during my slumber. If my request is too impudent… you may strike me down now. Or… I will wait for the time when I meet you. I thank you for your presence. Please indulge yourself in my gifts, Lord Arlecchino.”

You take one final bow, before getting up. You pray that the Goddess will take pity on you. You begin to turn, but then falter. Uncoiling the fabric around your neck, you place down your wool scarf onto the ground.

“I am not certain if you feel the winter chill as I do. Even if you do not, I would like for you to have it. The winter is grueling, as cold and beautiful as you are.”

You finally turn and leave. When you are nothing but a small silhouette in the distance, a pale woman emerges in the shadows of the shrine, observing you.

“Foolish, precious human,” the Goddess sighs as she leans down, grasping onto the scarf. “Do you undermine my omnipotence so much that you do not ask for me to relieve you of your illness? Or perhaps your heart is too large to muse the thought.”

She wraps the soft material around her neck. It is comforting. “It is not time for you to meet me just yet.”

Whipped up something quick cuz I was in a mood. Should I continue, maybe? Lowkey should finish my Halloween Event fic but... too many other ideas.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino #arlecchino x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #edgeray.writes

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kiame-sama · 1 month ago

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[Human reader being filmed while having a rare moment to themselves] This is human reader. Human reader likes her personal space.

[next shot is Human Reader being crowded by the Monster twst cast] This is Monster Twst, they also like human reader’s personal space.

Jokes aside I love your au! I think it’s really breathed some life into the aus of twst!! I especially love your world building!! I must admit, when I first read some of the monsters that you picked for the cast I was hesitant, but now I can’t imagine them as anything else? Especially Rook!! When I first went into this au I was expecting a wolf, some breed of hunting dog, maybe a bird of prey, something like that right? But I can totally see him as a spider now!!

If I may ask, this is in regards of poachers in your au, are they strictly trying to kill reader, or are there poachers hoping to catch her as like, an exotic pet? What would be the ratio/market for that? Personally speaking, I can totally see someone trying to get close to the royals/high ranking families of the twst guys by stealing reader and presenting them as like an “exotic pet” (even though I know it would end awfully for that person) imagine Hades or Maleficant’s reaction to that… yikes. On the other hand, if someone tried to gift reader to Leona’s family, that would be like free PR for them. Like imagine the show of “we would never!” and the following act of showing how trustworthy they are in taking care of such a “fragile species” you’d have to pry Reader away from their cold, dead, furry grippers

Oh!! And do you have any old wives tales/folk legends regarding humans and, well, their body parts? Ik this sounds morbid, and I’m so sorry, but I have a headcanon that some humans were used for potions. Idk what kind of potions, but I just know someone was dripping blood or throwing hair into a cauldron. I also can’t get this thought out of my head of some guy in twst having a “lucky charm” that’s like, human hair or something, kinda like rabbits feet, that “their grandpa passed down to them and it’s been In the family for generations”, you know? Last question, I promise, do you think Crowley has a secret collection of human artifacts? I can totally see Reader snooping around and finding an ancient cookbook or a map of the island that shows you where you can finds herbs, spices, fruit, and safe places to hunt

Warnings: poachers, talk of Human consumption, my monster AU, history of my AU, some Crowley history for this AU,

~~~~~~~~

- The poachers are not only trying to kill the Last Human, though there are many. Some are seeking this Human to be a pet, either for themselves or someone very influential. Some are seeking to be 'middle-men' and take the Human to sell later down the line. There are even a few older Fae poachers looking to 'raise' this Human as they lost their own adopted Human children a while back and seek to rekindle that feeling even if this Human is technically an adult already.

- Some poachers do seek to kill this Human and sell them piece by piece to whoever is buying. Human wombs and testicles were often used in 'fertility' potions as it was believed Humans were fertile universal breeders (they technically were, but consuming their parts did nothing for monster-folk fertility). Human teeth were often collected by Fae as luck charms (hence the idea of a tooth fairy) and many Fae who raised Humans still have their Human's baby teeth or have since passed those teeth on to their descendants. Many poachers are looking to get and sell the Human's teeth for charms, the meat to those eccentric monsters that want the rarest meat, their reproductive organs for these 'folk-medicines', and the other parts to whoever will pay enough for them.

- Those Poachers that seek to sell the Human as an exotic pet will absolutely go to the most influential they can think of- Hades and Malefecent are high on that list given their age and power- but several dignitaries and Kings/Queens are also on the list of potential buyers for a pet Human. Some even seek to take this Human to put in a Zoo/nature preserve as this is the last of a species after all, why not parade this specimen around for all to see? It will end very poorly regardless of who these poachers try to sell the Human as a pet to, but ESPECIALLY bad in the case of Falena, Maleficent, and Hades for different reasons.

- None of these poachers realize THE Malleus Draconia has already staked a claim and made this Human part of his Hoard. Some would stop dead in their tracks and give up the hunt if they were to find out, some are desperate enough to try their luck. None will succeed if Malleus has anything to say about it.

~•§•~

- Crowley does have a lot of Human artifacts! He is a Crow and Humans made such lovely items that he has collected quite a bit. (Y/n) isn't the only Human Crowley has tried to keep before. He is determined to keep this one, unlike the last little female Human six-hundred years ago who was unfortunately taken away from his care for reasons. He loves Humans. LOVES them. He loves that they are such a diverse species and he loves the way Humans just make things work even between monster-folk that traditionally hate each other.

- Crowley collects Human things and fully sees this current Human as his chick. He will try to parent them regardless of how old they are. He loves the idea of raising his own Human and is somewhat hoping this Human can give him that sense of parental success or even provide a half-human infant he can raise later on. Of course, he is not sure who he would ever allow to mate his precious chick in order to make that half-human infant, but the idea is still one he holds out hope for.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #Humans Are Extinct TWST AU #twst monster au

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iomoru · 16 days ago

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Hi, how are you? I read your rules, and I wanted to know if you could do Kinich x reader and how it would be at the start of the relationship. Like, go on a lot of dates and give you gifts (so romantic uwu) or would bring you to do commissions and half of the rewards would be yours (so romantic ✨️👌 in his mind that's a romantic date). Idk, I think it would be funny

-🦉

Treasured Moments

A/n: I actually made this at like 2 am or so but I forgot to post it bc I ended up falling asleep and woke up at 10 am (･ω･*)ｰ

Genre: Canon Verse, Fluff, Gn! Reader, Kinich x Reader, Second Person, Fluff

Summary: At the start of your relationship, Kinich fills your days with thoughtful gifts, surprise dates, and shared commissions, always giving you half the reward. Despite Ajaw’s teasing doubts, Kinich’s devotion and promises of protection make every moment feel even more meaningful.

The sun was low, casting a soft glow over the village as Kinich led you through the bustling market. You’d barely agreed to start dating him—something still new, almost surreal—and yet here he was, eager and bright-eyed, making sure to spend as much time with you as possible. Today, it seemed, was another one of those surprise dates.

“Close your eyes,” Kinich said, his hand warm over yours as he guided you carefully. “It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

Though you were used to his surprises, there was always that thrill of wondering what he’d planned next. This time, when he stopped and told you to open your eyes, you were met with a small array of goods: a little pouch of silver coins, a fine piece of jewelry glinting with polished stones, and a small bag of sweets he’d picked up along the way.

“Choose whatever catches your eye,” he said with a smile, his gaze never leaving you. “I want you to have something special from today.”

You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat up at his genuine affection. “You spoil me too much, you know that?”

"Isn’t that the idea?” He winked, putting one of the sweets into your hand. The two of you shared a laugh as you wandered through the rest of the market, his hand sometimes finding yours.

The next day, Kinich’s presence at your door brightened your morning again, but this time with a new plan in mind. “Today,” he said, “you’re going to help me with a commission.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is this your way of getting free help?”

“Not exactly.” He chuckled. “Half the rewards will be yours. Just think of it as...a date with a little teamwork.”

As the two of you set off into the forest for the commission, Kinich cautiously leading you through each task, whether it was gathering herbs or helping a villager with some lost belongings. Whenever he handed over his share of the reward, he would make a show of adding a bit extra for you. Even the simplest of jobs felt special with him around, and the growing pile of trinkets and small rewards became cherished reminders of your adventures together.

And when night fell, he led you to a quiet spot by a lake, where you sat side by side, sharing stories and watching the stars. He offered you a small box—a new gift he’d been saving all day—inside, a delicate charm shaped like a flower, carved from bone and polished to perfection.

“Every date, I want you to have something to remember,” he murmured, brushing his fingers along your hand. “Something I've picked just for you.”

Suddenly, an all-too-familiar voice echoed in your mind.

“Are you really going to give them a piece of your pathetic salary every time you do this? I mean, really, Kinich?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Kinich groaned. “Ajaw…” he muttered under his breath, casting a quick glance around as if he could spot him.

“Don’t listen to him,” you whispered with a grin, leaning into his shoulder. “I like that you spoil me.”

He relaxed, shooting a glare toward the sky as if Ajaw were floating somewhere above you, listening. “Yeah, well, he’ll just have to deal with it.”

But before Kinich could say anything else, Ajaw’s voice appeared again, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.

“Fine, but remember, love alone won’t protect them forever.”

You looked up at Kinich, catching the protective glint in his eyes. He squeezed your hand a little tighter, his gaze softening as he turned back to you.

“Well,” he said, his voice quiet yet firm, “I’ll keep trying anyway.”

As he reached for you, Ajaw’s voice faded, leaving only the sound of the lake rippling softly, stars reflected in its waters. In that moment, with the weight of his promises and the warmth of his love beside you, everything felt perfect.

A/n: one more kinich x reader request and I'm jumping off a 500 story building (ㆁᴗㆁ✿)

#iomoruツ #iomorurequestsツ #iomoruwritingsツ #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin fluff #kinich x y/n #kinich x you #kinich x reader #kinich fluff #genshin kinich #genshin impact kinich #kinich

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twoduelsabers · 2 months ago

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hiiii! i absolutely love your imagines of Qimir! could I request a fic where you ask him to pretend to be ur boyfriend because there's some sketchy people following you?

kissing to escape with qimir

content warnings -> none

a/n: first of all thank you!! second of all, HELP THIS IS MY FAVOURITE TROPE how did you know...

"qimir!"

she tugged at his sleeve urgently, visibly uncomfortable. she could sense that they were being followed, and even with her force and combat abilities, she didn't think she could just take down twenty men. armed men. in a busy market. well, she might have or might have not just killed a syndicate member, but... well she was tasked with it by her master- whom the pyke wronged.

"i know!"

qimir jabbered, pulling her further into the crowd. but there was no use- the chase was only getting closer and closer.

she wasn't keen on dying, or getting captured. her master wouldn't be so pleased to find her locked in a cell- and besides- she definitely didn't want qimir to get hurt. she scanned the surroundings, looking for a way out, or at least a hiding spot.

"you were in that business not too long ago! think of something, for force's sake!"

she nudged his arm, feeling more surrounded every minute.

"well, i wasn't assassinating pykes! just smuggling weapons!"

qimir huffed, then suddenly lowered his head to not get recognised by one of the guards.

and that gave her an idea... a very desperate one, but they might have just needed desperate measures.

"follow me!"

she urged, yanking him towards a busy alley. the sky was darkening, casting shadows on the narrow area, and that was exactly what she needed.

"hey! what are you-"

qimir protested as she backed up behind stacked crates and pulled him with her, but closed his mouth immediately as he saw just how close they were.

the silence hung heavy in the air, and the angry voices of the guards were heard closer to their location. they needed to hide. now.

"qimir."

she muttered, catching his attention. her hands came up behind his neck, pulling his cloak completely over his head. his eyes darkened, as if he was completely focused.

"kiss me."

these words barely made it through her throat. this could go wrong in so many ways. first of all, they could get caught. second of all, it might ruin the friendship that just started to bloom between them, or qimir might not even comply and-

but her thoughts were completely silenced when suddenly his lips were on hers. she was so surprised that he actually kissed her, that she didn't move and inch. the guards were rummaging through the crowd just inches away from them, and only that made her fist his shirt and pull him closer.

his cloak hid them both well, and they were left unnoticed. qimir was oh so well aware of that, but with how she kissed him he didn't want to pull away either.

her senses were completely dulled for the short moments of closeness. she didn't hear where the enemy went, and frankly, she didn't even care. she never thought about qimir in that way but... there was something about how he held her that she didn't want to let go.

it was him who broke the kiss. his intense gaze and parted lips only made her breath quicken.

"they're gone."

qimir reminded, speaking in a hushed voice.

"yeah- yeah, we should go-"

she replied breathlessly, quickly turning away from him and making her way through the alley. qimir followed her closely, his arm occasionally brushing against hers.

she didn't know where all of this would lead, but as long as he was by her side, she wouldn't complain.

reblogs appreciated!

masterlist

#manny jacinto #manny jacinto x reader #qimir the acolyte #qimir x reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars qimir #the acolyte fanfiction #the stranger x reader

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sunsetchicane · 3 months ago

Text

Postcards - Part 2 [LN4]

lando norris x [travel] journalist fem!reader

find the series here

word count: 7.3k

summary: The one where it's six months later and you still find yourself thinking about him. Maybe a another fated meeting will be the second chance you need.

warnings: fluff, banter, yearning, an unrealistic portrayal of London [probably], sexual innuendo, maybe a kiss or two idk, and...angst

author's note: Heyyy team. Back with another part for you. I think I really like this part and I hope you all enjoy! As always, feedback is appreciated!! So please feel free to leave any questions/concerns/comments you have. I hope you like it and keep your eyes peeled for what's coming next! Lots of love! [xoxo elle]

Summer Break July 2022

When walking down Camden Market, you can’t help but feel tucked into history. Life bustles in the walkways. Mothers corral starry-eyed children. Small bunches of friends are bent over their drinks while they taste each other’s. Couples promenade languidly, hands folded together and heads leaned in. Everything and nothing at all happens at Camden. Time stands still, holding tightly to memories and secrets. The brick that makes up the streets and walls stands proud and true, veterans at their trade. Music floats out of shops like dandelion seeds on a summer’s breeze, planting itself wherever fate leads.

It’s only your second day in London. You arrived late into the afternoon yesterday, not feeling up to checking out the subject matter of your project after traveling. Instead, you checked into the small townhouse that you’d be staying at for the duration of your trip and then wandered about the streets of London. You’ve never been to London before, but it was exactly as you’d imagined it. Tall red buses perused the streets. Towering buildings loomed over skinny walkways. But your favorite sight was the sun slipping just below the horizon, relinquishing the world to dusk, and the street lamps casting a warm glow over the summer night.

Today, however, you weren’t wandering the winding streets of the city, you’re acquainting yourself with one of London’s most well known attractions: Camden Market. When you were young, you saw pictures of it in some magazine you’d found in your school’s library. You’d adored the way the market looked on the page and promised yourself that you would see it for yourself someday and take pictures of your own. And now you are. The dream of a little girl flutters in your chest. You clutch onto your camera as your fingers tremble from the weight of your emotions. You really made it.

Closing your eyes and sighing, you bask in the moment for a second longer before fishing out your phone from your pocket. The market just opened, so you have the entire day to explore and find your story. The history of Camden is so rich that it can be found around every corner, tucked into every shop, and, most importantly, etched into the memories of the people.

Piecing together a story with stunning visuals here is difficult not for the lack of inspiration, but for the over abundance of it. How you’re going to choose what to share with the world, you have no idea.

This isn’t your first story with your publication, but it is your first major one. After working on small, local pieces, your boss finally caved and gave you a real assignment. It came in a nick of time, too, because you’d been getting antsy about staying in one place for so long. You needed to get out. But, there’s a lot of pressure to rise to the occasion. If you don’t do well on this piece, who knows when the next time you’ll be assigned something like this again.

You move through the market, stopping to watch or take pictures or talk with a shop owner here and there. The hustle and bustle keeps you moving, the current of moving bodies too strong to fight.

After a few hours of nonstop walking, you have dozens of ideas scribbled down and photos stored in your camera. You have a few specific shops and names written down to revisit when you come back with a more detailed idea of what your story is going to look like. The thoughts swirling through your brain move at lightspeed.

The only thing that breaks your intense concentration is the wafting smell of cooking food. Involuntarily, your stomach grumbles and your mouth waters at the savory smell. The only part of Camden that you haven’t sampled yet is the food. Suddenly, you’re desperate to find wherever that smell is coming from. You don’t think you’ve ever inhaled something so lovely.

After tucking away your notebook and slinging your camera off to your side, you hold your backpack over a shoulder and begin seeking out your lunch. There are a dozen different places to choose from, each producing a signature scent that crawls into the walkways. Signs that don each of the shop’s names does nothing to help you decide, everything speaking to your stomach in a different way. Frustration grows inside of you, fueled by hunger.

But then, as if the universe had a plan all along to keep you exactly where you were, you see him strolling down the walkway. Lando. Your breath catches in your chest, leaving you feeling lightheaded. Jaw slack and eyes wide, you take the sight of him.

His eyes are following the line of shops over his shoulder, seemingly focused on whatever they have to offer. He’s wearing a pair of jeans that hang from his hips and slouch against his sneakers. His plain black t-shirt hugs his arms and chest, but falls a little looser around his middle. To complete his look, he has a beat up black baseball cap atop his head. It pushes down his curls, framing his neck with soft brown coils. Even from this distance, you can see that his hair is much longer and healthier than when you saw him last.

The first thing you feel when you see him is immense exhilaration. Never were you expecting to see him again. After sending him his print and a postcard, there had been little in the way of communication. A few weeks after sending the package, you received a follow request from him on Instagram. Battling yourself for all of two seconds, you accepted it and then accidentally began stalking his page. He had posted a story only a couple minutes before requesting to follow you. Opening the story, you had found your photo of him tacked up on a wall in his home.

“My good side. Or so I’ve been told.”

The caption on the story had made you laugh. Staring at your phone, grinning like a fool, all for a boy a thousand miles and a different destiny away.

Following each other had been the only movement on either front. For a few weeks, you’d pull up his DM and write out message after message. Not one was ever sent. There was no reason for you to reach out to him. Plus, you didn’t know if he even wanted to hear from you. Following you on Instagram is a far cry from being cool with what happened between you half a year ago.

The night you spent together, though it was cut short, still haunts you and holds you.

You had been somewhat keeping up with this season of Formula One just to have a way to stay connected to him in a way. Even if you couldn’t see him or speak with him, at least you could watch from a distance. Every time you’ve tried to stop, tried to forget him, you’ve been unsuccessful. All of your tactics that you’ve been practicing your whole life haven’t been able to eradicate Lando from your system. He’s a bad habit that you can’t break.

You want him in a way that you’ve never wanted anything before. Slowly, you’re creeping to the edge of your own rules, wondering what fate looks like on the other side.

But, reality comes crashing in when his eyes lazily flick up to yours and the elation that was just coursing through your bloodstream turns icy cold. Terror seizes your chest in an iron grip. You can’t move, you can’t breathe, you can’t even run.

For a moment you both stand still, completely frozen in time while the world continues on without you. People rush in and out of view, obscuring your vision in millisecond intervals. Everytime you lose sight of him, you wonder if he’ll actually be there.

He is. He’s really there.

And now he’s walking toward you.

A million questions rush through your head in a panic. Is he still upset at you? What is he going to say? Will you be able to say goodbye again?

Caught in the spinning of your own thoughts, you miss him drawing closer and closer with a stupid grin splitting his face. When you finally snap back into reality, he’s standing right in front of you.

His arms wrap around your waist, hoisting you into the best hug you’ve ever experienced. Hands down. With his touch, every single thought, anxiety, and question evaporate. There’s nothing in this world except for the way his hands hold your waist and his arms flex against your back.

Dropping your bag from your shoulder, you can’t help but toss your arms around his neck, hugging him right back. Smiling wildly, you push your forehead into his shoulder. Your nose fills with the scent of him, sending you reeling all the way back to six months ago when you saw him last.

While you’re in his arms, it feels as though no time has passed. It’s simply the day after you met, both of you ready for your next adventure together.

Together.

The word feels odd to you. It’s so unused in your life. You’ve always been alone. Growing up in the foster care system, you never stayed with someone long enough to use the word ‘together.’ So, there’s never been a desire in you to ever experience ‘together’ with someone. Until now.

“Hi,” Lando says warmly. You can hear the smile in his voice. A rush of heat paints your cheeks red as you pull away from him. As much as you want to keep your hands on him, you drop your hands from his neck and take a small step back. He lets his hands slip away from your waist, your body suddenly cold from the lack of his touch.

“Hi,” you respond, unable to remove the smile on your lips.

For a couple of seconds you both stand in awe of each other. He’s grown so much, not that you didn’t already know that. His Instagram is regularly updated for race weekends and things in between, so you’ve watched him grow over the last six months. However, nothing compares to seeing him in person. The shitty part is that he looks so damn good. How are you supposed to say goodbye to that face, that smile, again?

“I can’t believe this,” Lando says while adjusting his cap that was thrown askew by the brute force of your embrace. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you say while watching his hands go about their work. “How are you?”

“Alright,” he says while nodding. “But great now. It’s been ages. What are you doing in London?”

Nerves buzz in your chest and fingertips. It almost sounds like he’s missed you. You’ve missed him. You’ve never missed anything the way that you miss him.

“I’m working on a story,” you say breathlessly. “About Camden.”

His face lights up as you tell him about your time in London so far. He seems excited when you tell him that you’re going to be here for a while and are looking forward to doing a little more sightseeing when you can. His eyes are wide and bright as he listens to you. Every once in a while you get caught stumbling over your words because you got lost in the curve of his jaw, or the smattering of freckles on his face, or by those damn eyes.

Unable to keep talking coherently, you ask him what he’s doing in London. He tells you that he’s on summer holiday and spending a little time with family. He flew into London this morning and came to do some gift shopping for his parents before driving to Bristol.

He’s standing so close to you that you could reach out with little effort and take his hand in yours. The memory of his hand ghosts along your fingers, urging you to just reach out.

But for all of your desires, you have to hold fast to what you know to be true. This is temporary. Everything between you and Lando will pass because it always does. These feelings only feel this full and vivid because he’s standing right in front of you. This is a chance meeting that should never have happened. It only makes things more complicated.

“What are you doing right now?” Lando asks suddenly, breaking you away from planning an exit strategy. Your heart sinks to your toes.

“I–well–” You’re floundering. You never flounder. How is this the time that you can’t come up with some witty response or a quick out?

“Would you like to grab lunch? Maybe do a little catching up?” he presses. There’s this look on his face that makes you die a little. His eyes are so bright, lit up by the softest of smiles on his face. He looks perfectly at peace in your presence. There’s a happiness that exudes from his aura, taking you captive in its warm arms.

“Yes.” It comes out in a whisper. You’re barely aware that you actually said it aloud. The answer fell from deep within your heart, spilling out because it had to. You’d like nothing more than to sit across a table from Lando and talk with him until the world comes to an end.

Immediately, you regret your answer. Agreeing to this means spending time with him and reopening the doors you’ve been struggling to keep shut. What you should be doing is locking those doors and throwing away the key. You should be doing everything in your power to do what you do best: to run. The urge is there, pulling you away from Lando and the fate that could be. The familiar safety of running away calls to you.

But it’s counteracted by the intense desire to stay.

For the second time in your entire life and for the same reason both times, you’re split in two. War rages inside you; mind versus heart; logic versus feeling; safety versus adventure.

Lando reaches over, snapping up your backpack and hauling it over his shoulder. He sends you a wink, which you roll your eyes at.

“Follow me,” he says while tilting his head back towards the food walkway. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth to avoid smiling like a fool, you nod your head and fall in step with him.

Together you waltz along in front of the shops. Lando is looking down a little ways, obviously searching out a particular shop. You can’t help but be grateful that you didn’t have to choose which place to eat at. You probably would have spent the rest of the day hopping from spot to spot, tasting a little bit of everything.

After a short walk, Lando stops the two of you in front of a small stall. With a smile on his face, he explains what the shop serves. He obviously loves the place and can’t stop rambling on about it while you stand in line. Honestly, you only hear half of what he’s saying. You’re too busy watching the way his mouth moves and how his eyes dart around and the way he moves his hands while he speaks.

“So, what are you going to get?” he asks. You’d blanked out when he was explaining the menu to you.

“Just whatever you’re getting. I trust your judgment,” you say while shrugging, trying to be as normal as possible. You’d rather him not know that you’ve been ogling him this whole time. It doesn’t bode well for your attempts to get over him.

“You do?” he asks with a scoff. You laugh then, remembering the ice cream incident from six months ago. His choice was less than stellar, so why would it be different now? Maybe you should reconsider your options.

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “But I’m giving you a chance at redemption.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but he’s swiftly cut off by the woman behind the counter calling the next customer. Lando walks up in front of you and orders for the both of you. He pays the tender before circling back to you.

“No going back now,” he says while handing you a cup of ice water. Shaking your head at him, you pluck the water from his hand gratefully.

“What do I owe you?” you ask while reaching for your wallet.

“Nothing,” he says with a smirk. You glare up at him, trying to fry that smug look off his face. The opposite happens, his smirk growing into a grin.

“I think I’ve got it covered,” he says, reminding you that he’s a millionaire with just six words. What a snob.

“Fine,” you say while stuffing your wallet back into your pocket. “Just trying to have manners. Ever heard of them?”

His jaw drops and his eyes narrow in a look of disbelief. He’s carrying your bag and paying for your food. He’s actually being quite the gentleman, but you still need to bust his chops a little. The smug idiot deserves it, just a little bit. Behind your amused look, there’s an affection that scares you.

Standing side by side, you wait for your food while making small talk. It shocks you how easy conversation flows between the two of you. Nothing has ever been this perfectly natural for you. It just feels right to be by his side while talking about simple nothings.

Just as your hunger starts to crest into annoyance, Lando’s number is called. Excusing himself, he jogs over and grabs the two boxes from the counter. The smell hits you before he even arrives back at your side. It takes everything in you not to rip the paper to-go box from his hands and devour the food right there. Instead, Lando leads you both over to an empty picnic table.

Lando plops down onto the bench, setting both boxes in front of him. For a moment, you think about rounding the table to sit across from him. It would put more distance between the two of you, a safety cushion of sorts.

You sit right next to him.

Smiling smally, he slides your food in front of you. With a needy sigh, you pop open the box and look at the meal in front of you. It’s chicken strips and fries. Raising your eyes to the sky, you begin to pray to the powers-that-be to keep you from laughing in his face.

“What?” Lando says through a mouth full of fries when he catches you barely holding back your laugh.

“I was wrong when I called you geriatric last December. I know now that you’re actually a child.” you strain to say. Lando simply cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Hater,” he says while popping off the lid to his dipping sauce. “Would a child eat chili mayo?”

Smiling wildly, you watch as he dunks his chicken strip into the mayo. After taking a bite of it, he has a little mayo on the corner of his mouth, not doing anything to negate the child accusations.

Instead of teasing him anymore, you dive into your own meal. You have to hand it to Lando because these are the best chicken strips you’ve ever had. You don��t tell him that, though. No need to inflate his ego anymore than it already is.

The two of you eat like you haven’t eaten in years. He polishes off the whole box before you and waits for you to finish.

“Stop watching, you creep,” you say while finishing off the end of your fries.

“I’m not watching you,” he lies. “I’m wondering if you’re going to have that last piece of chicken.”

Rolling your eyes, you toss it into his box. With a cheeky smile, he snatches it up and pops it into his mouth.

After you’ve both disposed of your trash, you begin taking a lazy walk around the market. There’s an unsaid agreement hanging between you to not acknowledge the fact that you’d only agreed to lunch together, not whatever this is.

“What are you doing for the rest of the day?” Lando asks while watching the shops as you pass them by. A dozen different excuses jump to the surface of why you can’t stay with him for the rest of the day. Shame fills you as you realize that your first instinct to a simple question is to get out of it. For someone who’s living is asking questions and getting answers, you’re horrible at being questioned.

There’s yet again the choice that you were poised with all those months ago. With Lando standing in front of you, do you do the right thing and say goodbye or do you say to hell with your rules and reach out.

You’ve already tried endlessly to forget him. Maybe you just need to get him out of your system. At least that’s how you justify your decision.

“Not much,” you answer honestly. All you were going to do today was do a little more exploring before returning to your home for the next few days to iron out your story.

Lando turns to you with a surprised look gracing his features. There’s something else there too, something that surprises you. There’s hope in the way his lips arch upwards and in the tilt of his head.

“What?” you say in response to the face he pulled, turning your eyes from him to the scenery around you. Looking at him like this has your stomach in knots for so many reasons.

“Nothing,” He says while shaking his head. He sounds so pleased it makes your chest ache.

“If you’re not busy, I can show you around a little,” Lando says distantly while turning to examine some jewelry sold by a nearby shop. His nonchalance is transparent, a false front put up to curb his enthusiasm. In a way, it puts you at ease. You’re both going to pretend that this is just some casual meet up between old friends. If you can’t make yourself run away, maybe you can keep yourself safe this way.

“Don’t you have to get to your parents’ house?” you ask, not wanting to impose on his plans. He shakes his head, telling you that he’ll just go a little later than planned.

“Alright,” you find yourself saying. Lando freezes, then finally turns around to face you.

“Alright?” he asks, making sure he heard you correctly.

“Where to first?”

—

For a while in the afternoon, you stroll around the market until Lando finds a present for his parents. Once he buys it and tucks it away into your bag, he tells you that it’s time to explore London.

He forces you onto one of those buses that has an open air seating area, informing you that it is the best way to see the streets of London. He tells you that when he was a kid, he and his friends used to come on these and mess about. You can’t help but imagine a small Lando running up and down the aisle, causing chaos with a gaggle of little boys while their parents watched on. Parts of him still hold onto that childlike joy and wonder, shining like sunspots through the man he’s becoming. He must have had a happy childhood. An ache that feels like envy pinches at your heart.

You can’t help but wonder who you would be if you grew up the way he did.

After riding around on the bus, he takes you to walk along the River Thames. Crowds of people go about their days around you while you and Lando create your own little world together. Every place that he points out will forever be a reminder of him. His words paint over the sights, coloring them a shade of him in your mind.

Once you get close to the London Bridge, the two of you walk up to the walkway’s railing that overlooks the river. Instinctively, you pull out your camera to snap a few shots. At first, you take a couple of just the bridge in all its glory. The clear summer sky is a beautiful backdrop to the brilliant bridge that watches over the busy river that flows under it.

Lando has his back to you, his head turned toward the bridge. He’s mumbling something about the ships that skim across the surface of the river. But your attention is turned toward focusing him into the frame. His brown curls blow softly in the wind. The shirt he’s wearing fills and flutters with the river’s breeze. He looks perfect as he leans up against the railing, his arms rested against the top and his hands loosely folded together. The photo you take feels so intimate. For all the business and life going on, the eye is completely drawn to him. He’s captivating.

“Lando,” you whisper, wanting to get his attention while your camera is still raised to your eye.

Turning around, his face is caught in a look that you’re eternally grateful you caught on camera. There’s the hint of a smile on his lips, his eyes are wide, and his eyebrows are drawn up. He’s ready to answer any question you have, ready to hear anything you have to say. It’s a look straight from a movie scene. The look on his face changes swiftly from pleased to surprised when he sees the camera pointed at him.

“What are you doing?” he asks, a laugh forcing his face into a proper smile.

“Taking pictures,” you answer matter-of-factly.

Rolling his eyes, he begins to make faces at the camera. Without missing a beat, you keep snapping photo after photo of him. After a minute or so, you turn the camera off and drop it back down to your side. Lando watches you carefully, his eyes tracking your every movement. The way he’s staring at you makes you feel exposed and analyzed. Distantly, you think you should be scared of his eyes on you this way. But that’s a problem for another time.

The rest of the day passes easily. Lando brings you to some of his favorite spots around the city. He tells you stories; you listen carefully, trying your best to learn everything you can about him. You can’t help but feel like you’ve known him for a hundred years. The ease at which you speak, the natural way you understand each other's ques and mannerisms, it all feels instinctual. And yet, there’s still that layer of nervous excitement that lights you on fire. Every time your hands brush as you walk or you catch eyes lingering on each other, there’s an electricity that shoots through your heart.

Lando brings you to a place to grab a bite to eat for supper. As you sit together for another meal, you find yourselves arguing lightheartedly about the stupidest things. All things aside, you realize you haven’t had a friend like this in so long. When you began rejecting relationships with people, it had been a hard adjustment. But over the years, you’d grown so used to being alone that you forgot how lonely you were. Sitting across from Lando, listening to him laugh with you and tease you, it dawns on you just how lonely you’ve been.

By the time you’re done eating, the sun is starting to sink into the horizon. Golden hues are splattered across the sky, painting the city in orange. Lando promised one more sight that would put all the others to shame. Apparently Big Ben is highlighted by the setting sun and is a must see while in London.

With ice cream cones in hand, he hauls you quickly down the street towards the clock tower. Clouds create ombre lines in the sky, bringing the old clock to life. It’s a sight like none other. Big Ben stands like an ancient soldier keeping watch over his city by harnessing the light and fire of the sun.

Wordlessly, you take a photo of the scene in front of you, but only one. Turning your camera off and holding it loosely at your side, you just take in the view. It’s perfect. Everything about today has been perfect. You haven’t been this happy in a long time.

Lando looms right next to you, his presence warm and full. A hand ghosts over yours, just the fleeting touches of fingers against your skin. Breathing suddenly becomes difficult, your lungs laboring to take in any oxygen. You don’t move a muscle, afraid that he’ll admit that it was an accident or worse.

But it happens again. One of his hands reaches towards your’s, plucking the camera from it. Then his other hand slides into your now empty one. Instantly, the sky isn’t the only thing on fire. Warmth envelops your body, everything stemming from where your hand fits in his.

Looking over to him, you watch as he slings the strap of your camera around his neck. He looks over to you, a small smile on his face. As your eyes scan over his tanned features, you catch a small bit of ice cream caught at the corner of his mouth. An amused smile crosses over your face. He’s really never beating those child accusations.

“What?” he says while his face twists from peaceful to concerned.

“Nothing you just have some-” You say while you instinctively reach to wipe his mouth with your thumb. As you make contact, you realize what you’re doing. But it’s too late. You’re close enough now that you can feel his breath on your face. Inches separate you, mere inches.

Slowly, you finish the job you set out to do and wipe the corner of his mouth with your thumb. Hooded eyes greet yours when you dare to look at him.

“Ice cream,” you finish your earlier statement as your hand lingers against his face. Stubble rubs against your fingers, but his skin is soft and warm under it.

There’s maybe a half a second between you trying to pull your hand away and his coming up to cup your jaw. His thumb props up your chin while his fingers press into the back of your neck. You’re barely able to suck in a breath before his lips are on yours. Sinking into him immediately, you kiss him back with matched passion. He feels divine pressed against you. Fire licks at your body, turning you molten in his grip.

For the first time possibly ever, you feel confident that where you stand is exactly where you want to be. Reaching out to him, you grab his neck with both hands to pull him closer.

The kiss is damning, his lips drawing you closer and closer. Letting go is not an option, the end of this isn’t even a thought in your mind. Everything you know is this kiss. The rest of the world has faded away; your past has faded into an obsolete flash. While his hands are on you, there’s hope. While your fingers press into his skin, there’s a future.

His hands start to drift, needing to feel more of you. With gentle but firm fingers, he explores your body. One of his hands comes to rest on your waist while the other splays out against your lower back, encouraging you to arch into him. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, causing you to gasp.

The momentary severing of your connection allows you to breathe for a second. Then your name falls from Lando’s lips in a whisper like honey and you’re submerged once again. Dusk wraps around you while you kiss like the world is ending.

Six months have been spent dreaming of moments like this. Lando has plagued you every day and every night for months. The steady ache that you thought would fade has just been set to rest and replaced with a roaring fire. Down to the very marrow of your bones you feel his kiss. You’re insatiable, needing more of him.

Neither of you know how long you’ve been standing there when you finally pull apart. Lando doesn’t give any sign that he’s removing his hands from you. Instead, he just holds you close while his head drops between your collar and jaw. A jolt runs down your spine when you feel him placing the gentlest of kisses up your neck.

“Thank you,” he says while pulling away to look you in the eyes. Reeling back a little, it strikes you as odd that that’s what he’s decided to say after you’ve just experienced the best make out of your entire life. Your reaction doesn’t phase Lando, of course. He just smiles down at you like he knows something you don’t.

“For the photo and the postcard,” he finishes, putting your shock to rest. A baffled laugh rises from your chest and you let your forehead fall against his chest. Laughing with you, he adjusts his arms around waist, pulling you tight against him.

“I can’t believe you’re bringing that up right now.” you laugh into his chest, dumbfounded that he was even thinking about it.

“Why? This is the perfect time to bring it up,” he defends. You pull back in his arms to look at him and give him a confused frown.

“I wanted to wait until I saw you in person so I could thank you properly. Now I have,” he says smugly as if this was his plan all along. Not only had he been thinking about and scheming this all day, he’d been waiting for months to do it. Chills cascade over your skin as you let the weight of that sink in. Maybe he missed you as much as you missed him. It’s an insane thought because you should never have felt that way after meeting him once. Rarely over the last six months have you let yourself hope that he felt the same way. Maybe you should have had a little faith.

But to what end?

The familiar feeling of doubt begins to creep in, but you refuse to ruin one of the best moments you’ve ever experienced. Even if you’ll pay for it later, you’re going to do your best to preserve whatever just passed between you and Lando.

“That’s so cheesy,” you find yourself laughing. Lando squeezes your sides, making you squeal and press into his chest.

“I think you meant ‘romantic,’” he corrects, emulating the conversation that you shared months ago. It makes you smile.

“Maybe I did,” you concede softly. Raising yourself up off his chest, you lean in a press the barest of kisses to his soft lips. He accepts your lips on his with equal tenderness.

Pulling away for the second time, you press your hands flat against his chest to push away from him. He lets you go, but it takes a few seconds. After you’re free from the circle of his arms, you pull one of his hands into yours and begin walking into the night.

The dying light gives way into a sultry purple and navy blue. The air flits over the water and through the trees on a gentle breeze. With Lando’s hand in yours and your lips still tingling from his kiss, you can chalk this up to the perfect night.

“Can I take a few pictures?” Lando asks as he pulls you in front of him, your camera held in his other hand. You’d completely forgotten that he had taken your camera from you.

“Sure,” you say while nodding. “Do you know how?”

“Yeah,” He scoffs smugly. “Point and click. Easy as that.”

Blinking at him, you’re slightly in awe of his absolute blind confidence. A man really just believes whatever he wants, doesn’t he.

“Alright,” you say while dropping his hand. “Take a few for me.”

Confidently, he smiles at you and brings the camera to his eye. Then pulls it away with a frown on his face.

“Lens cap,” you tell him while pointing to the end of the camera. His eyes flick to you while his confidence falters for just a second. Once he has the cap removed, he brings the camera back up to his eye. He’s obviously a little more pleased when he can actually see his surroundings through the viewfinder.

Silently, you watch as he struts about taking pictures of this and that. Watching on, you can’t help the smile that spreads onto your face. He’s like a kid in a candy store. Once something catches his eye, he walks over to it and spends minutes on making sure it’s just how he wants it.

While he gallivants about with your camera, you have a moment to really think about everything that’s happened today. Playing it over in your head, it seems like a movie or as if it wasn’t really happening to you. The person you are with Lando seems so different to the person that you know yourself to be. It’s like the person that you are when you’re around him is this fuller version of yourself. Your broken pieces seem to draw together, finally ready to heal. There’s a joy that you’ve never known when your hand is in his. It feels right; it feels real.

And in the nighttime streets of London, you feel a star of hope being born in your chest. And you hold it tight. Maybe there are some things that don’t have to be temporary. Running is all you’ve ever known. Once a place doesn’t fit your needs or desires, you run away to the next place. But what if there’s somewhere, or someone, out there that will always fit your needs and desires. What if it wasn’t chance that brought together again two people whose paths should never have crossed?

What if you didn’t have to run?

“How do you get them to come up on the screen?” Lando says while fast walking over to you and pulling you from your train of thought. When he reaches you, you pull the camera from his hands. He rounds behind you, placing his chin on your shoulder and his hands around your stomach. Pressing the play button, you bring the pictures onto the display screen. It starts with yours from the beginning of the day. The bright morning shot of the Camden Market sign seems like a lifetime ago.

You drag the wheel dial back, sending you to the last picture taken. It’s completely dark.

“What?” Lando mumbles into your shoulder, his body going rigid against you. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

Slowly, you spin the dial backward to keep browsing through his pictures. Nearly every single one is too dark to make out.

Obviously frustrated, Lando huffs and presses his forehead into your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at his display of exasperation. His lesson has been well learned.

“I don’t get it,” he says while you turn in his arms. He’s pouty now, his face pinched into a frown.

“Did you adjust the aperture, the ISO, and the shutter speed?” you ask pointedly. He doesn’t give you the dignity of a response. Instead, he pulls his lips into a line and squints his eyes at you. He’s not taking any of your bull shit. Deciding it's your turn to play the smug jerk, you smirk at him.

“Point and click, right?” you tease while slinging the camera around your neck. You reach into Lando’s front pocket while looking him in the eyes to fish out your lens cap. His eyes go wide as your hand slides in and out of his pocket. Tilting your head to the side, you watch as he sucks in a deep breath. You’ve absolutely flustered him, something you don’t think often happens.

“Huh?” he mumbles, obviously not catching what you had said earlier.

“I can give you a lesson on the bus ride to my place if you’d like,” you say with an innocent smile. Lando blinks away his shock and then accepts your offer.

Walking side by side, you make your way to the bus stop. Hopping on the bus to where your house is, Lando leads you to a row and lets you have the window seat.

While the bus teeters along, you give Lando a brief lesson on camera basics. He nods along, his eyes following your fingers as they dance along the camera. He seems genuinely interested in what you have to say. A warm feeling flares in your chest that he cares about what you do enough to learn about it.

Too soon, the bus arrives at your stop. Together, you get off the bus and walk towards the town house you’re staying in. Lando has your hand clasped in his while he asks you question after question about cameras. You do your best to answer him, a smile constant on your face.

“This is me,” you sigh quietly while stopping in front of the gate of the house. He stops too, turning to stand in front of you. There’s a question poised on your lips that you already know the answer to were you to ask it. Once more the choice to reach out looms in front of you.

“How long are you in London for exactly?” Lando asks. He hadn’t asked about it all day. You’ve been wondering when it was going to come up and it finally has.

“Just the next few days,” you tell him. He nods along with your words.

“After that?” he presses while fiddling with your fingers.

“Back to Monaco for a while until I get a new assignment. Probably only a few days,” you admit. “What about you?”

“I’m going on vacation with my family to Bali for a week and then with some friends to Australia the next week. Then I’ll be in Woking for work,” he says, his eyes not lifting to find yours. The realization hits you like a dump truck.

“Then the season starts again,” you say, your voice strained.

“And you’ll be on assignment,” he shoots back, his voice the same as yours.

All the hope that’s been accumulating throughout your time with Lando burns to ash in a matter of mere seconds. The guiding star that flared to life just hours ago, collapses in on itself, creating a black hole inside of you. All joy is sucked away, leaving you cold and alone. Where hope once was, despair takes its place.

It’s nearly laughable that you ever thought you wouldn’t have to say goodbye. Even when you tried not to run, the universe did it for you. Thinking that fate brought you together was a child’s wish. It’s fate that’s tearing you apart. There can be no other way for you, running away is the only option. Saying goodbye will always be your fate, your curse.

“I’ll come to Monaco,” Lando says suddenly, his hands gripping yours. His eyes are like fire when you look into them. His face is stormy, angry even. You know the look well. He’s fighting. He’s a fighter.

You remember when you were a fighter.

“Alright,” you choke out, feeling utterly broken. Pulling you close, he takes your lips with his own. You can feel his promise in his kiss, his hope to see you again. It shatters you further. Tears well in your eyes, but you don’t allow them to fall. This pain is what you bargained for and now you’re paying in full. But you kiss him, you kiss him with everything you have because you know it will be the last.

Two fated times your paths crossed.

And two times you were ripped apart by that same fate.

When he pulls away, you can’t look him in the eye. He holds you close while he whispers into your ear.

“I’ll see you in Monaco.” His voice is stern and sure. All you do is nod into his chest.

When he walks away, he doesn’t say goodbye. He believes that this isn’t one. You know better.

This time, you don’t look over your shoulder to watch him leave.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

Text

When I Say Run 1

Warnings: dark elements, such as chasing and kidnapping.

Note: I do appreciate all your feedback if you read this. I will hopefully have the next few part done soon. I don't intend this to be very much more than three or so parts.

Inspired by @navybrat817's Monday Thot

You've seen the man before. Often the market is overcrowded enough that you rarely see the same face twice, but you recognize him at once. His deep blue eyes are hard to forget along with the grim shadow cast over his unaltered and unamused expression. You know him because he always seems to know you.

More than once, you caught him watching you. At first, you convinced yourself he was looking past you, or through you, as it felt. But he doesn't look away that day, you do.

You move to the next stall to examine some figs. You realise why you really noticed him. He doesn't belong. What it seems, by his fraying ball cap and canvas jacket, is that he is hiding from someone.

The more you think about him, the more uneasy you are. How is it that you see him every time you come to the market? You come early and he is there, late and he is there. The coincidence feels too canny to be believed.

Still, you aren’t convinced it is more than that. You get carried away and make up ridiculous hypotheticals in your mind. There are many who come to the market every weekend. You probably run into a dozen people over and over and never even realise it. Why then, does he stick out in your mind?

You grab a carton of cherries and a couple of peaches. You pay and take your change, brushing against someone as you pull your hand back. You feel something fall on your foot and kneel down to help gather the dropped plums. The man’s gloved fingers touch the bruises on the skin and you hold back a gasp as you look him in the face.

“Sorry,” you utter as you hand him a dark plum, “I didn’t see you there.”

You stand as he takes the fruit and slip your own into your cloth bag. You sling it over your shoulder as he assures you it's fine but you don’t wait for a conversation. You hadn’t even noticed him get that close. Before, he was well across the plaza with a horde between you. That he moved that fast, so seamlessly is eerie.

You enter a tent a few stalls down and pretend to admire the patterned china of a teapot. There is a putrid taste in your mouth, the rotten flavour of paranoia on your dry tongue. You check the tag on the pot and leave without purchase.

You look around as you emerge back into the late morning sun, the heat of the crowd adding to the sheen of sweat over your brow. You clear your throat as you don’t see the man and keep your head down as you resign yourself to your light haul. You will feel better once you got home.

You weave through the swarm to the edge of the market and dip down the side street as the hum of voices fades behind you. Your apartment is a few blocks down, nestled above a bookstore cafe. It's s humble and affordable, but you can’t complain.

You pull out your change purse as you near the shop but as you reach the front door, it swings open before you can reach for it. It’s him. Again. The leather gloves, the vibrant irises, the dark shanks of hair that frame his squared jaw. He is striking in more ways than one.

You thank him as he holds the door and enter the small shop. You’re nervous. You can get your coffee and wait him out. You don’t want to lead him back to your apartment just above. Or you could lead him on a chase through the city until you lose him and circle back. Your mind races as you try to convince yourself you’re overreacting but you just can’t.

You order your cinnamon blend but the man once more curtails you. He hold a bill out to the cashier and grits for her to keep the change.

“Sir, you don’t have to--”

“I’d like to buy you a coffee,” he insists as he waves the bill at the cashier, “want something sweet to go with it?”

His accent is subtle. He doesn’t speak your language naturally but he does it well. You shake your head and step away from the till. He follows you to the corner where you await your order.

“You can have the coffee,” you say, “I’m not interested.”

“Why not?” he asks. His bluntness makes you squirm.

“I have a boyfriend,” you lie as you rub your neck, “here--”

You unclasped your coin purse and he stops you, squeezing your hand until the clasp clicks shut. “No, you don’t,” he says, “it’s my treat.”

“I don’t want it,” you recoil from him and repeat, “I’m not interested.”

You make to brush by him and he catches your arm, “why not?”

“Because,” you jerk away from him, “why are you following me?”

“Following you?” he scoffs, “you feel special, don’t you?”

“No, I told you, I have a boyfriend.”

“You know, when you lie,” he says, “I can see it…” he hovers his finger along your throat, “right there. Your pulse picks up.”

You push his hand away and sidle past him. You’re shaking as you hurry to the door and look back. He watches you but stays where he is. Your order is called and he turns to grab it. You leave under the chime of the door and peer up and down the street.

You go to the left, heading for the market to hide among the sea of people. It will give you time to figure out what to do next. The station is on the other side of the plaza, you could probably get there without much trouble. That will scare him away.

Your footsteps echo around you like a movie scene. You grip your bag on your shoulder and stop short as a figure appears from the alleyway. You can hear the market just ahead of you, just one corner away.

“You forgot your coffee,” the man says as he blocks your path, “don’t you know that it’s rude to refuse a gift?”

You swallow and back away, speechless. You glanc around. How did he move so fast? You spin on your heel and walk in the other direction. You listen for him behind you but when you dare to peek over your shoulder, he is gone.

You quiver and hook around the next corner, hoping to loop to the west entrance of the market. He’s there too. He tilts his head as he grins and tosses the coffee so it spills down the brick wall. You retreat away from the splash and blink at him dumbly. The street is mostly empty but you hear someone else.

You spin back and fight not to break into a sprint. That time, you don’t look back. You head back along the same way you came but turn down another street before you get to the alley. A metal rattle sounds from overhead as a blur drops down in front you from the rickety fire escape above. The man fixes his hat and chuckles.

“I think you should start running,” he taunts.

You nearly trip over your heels as you rear back. Fear bubbles in your chest and you fall into a run, spurred by his ominous timbre. The bag bounces against your side as you squeeze your change purse in your other hand, feet hitting the old brick road heavy and hard. You stumble as you glance back but find no pursuit.

You slow as your chest burns and stop to catch your breath. It take a moment to get your bearings. You bend over and gulp. You straighten up and face the street behind you, searching for the man in the grey jacket. There is only a couple holding hands and a group of young boys giggling as they kick around a beaten football.

You look up along the rooves of the buildings and the balconies. You don’t see anything. You shake your head and puff. Fucking creep. Probably just wanted to scare you.

You don’t go back to your apartment right away. You’re too agitated for that. You can’t help but look around every few steps and peek down every alley and street before you pass. It’s a good forty minutes before you realise you're lost. You never come to this part of town.

You swear under your breath and cringe. You should have gone to the precinct like you planned. You were so panicked you didn’t think. You were more focused on getting away than getting safe.

You drop your change purse into your jumbled bag of cherries and peaches. You reach into your pocket and your heart drops. You search both pockets. Your phone must have fallen out when you were running.

You resign yourself to a listless trail back home through the urban maze. You could figure it out, there has to be a map around here somewhere. You are sure you just passed one a moment ago.

You start down the street and mourn the loss of your phone. That would take a while to replace with your lousy wages. Fuck. Why didn’t you buy the warranty?

The roar of a motorcycle cuts through the din of the city streets and echoes all around you. You ignore it and follow the sidewalk as you squint at the street signs above. You try to find something familiar, something to find your way.

Suddenly you're taken off your feet, a crushing grip knots the back of your shirt as you're hurtled forward. You scream as the brickwork hazes beneath you and suddenly the engine revs and you’re turned sharply with its motion. You float just above the ground, dangling from your shirt.

You looked up in confusion, the strength of the man holding you with one arm sends ice through your veins. The twinkling eyes, the angle of his jaw, and the slight curve of his lips makes you wince. He thrusts you closer and bends you over the front of the motorcycle so that you're trapped between him and the tank.

“Better tuck those feet in,” he warns as you're folded over the metal on your stomach, “I told you to run.”

He veers suddenly and the momentum pushes you against him as you clung to the bike, wind whipping your face as it hovers before the dingy pipes of the bike. It feels as if you’ll fly off at any second. You reach to grasp onto the man's jacket as you clench every muscle of your body to keep from slipping.

The engine rips through the air as your head spins. You have a choice; fall off and die or hang on and live.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #drabble #series #captain america #winter soldier #avengers #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes x reader

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sinkovia · 9 months ago

Text

Black Market

Hitman Simon Riley x Doctor Fem!Reader

In desperate need of money to clear a million-dollar debt, you accept Simon's offer to become his personal doctor, earning twenty percent of each contract he completes. But as you plunge back into the black market, ghosts from your past emerge, threatening to unravel everything you've worked so hard to run away from.

Mention of Kidnapping.

Masterlist - Black Market Masterlist

Simon sat in his dimly lit house, the dim glow of his computer screen casting shadows across his face. He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping impatiently on the keyboard as he navigated through the depths of the black market.

His eyes scanned the screen, brows furrowing in frustration as he scrolled through the listings, weighing the risks against the potential rewards. Contract after contract flashed before him, each promising a hefty sum of money in exchange for services rendered.

But to Simon, they were all the same—assassinations, espionage, sabotage. The thrill of danger had lost its appeal long ago, replaced by a sense of weariness and disillusionment.

Cursing under his breath, Simon scrolled through the listings for hire, his frustration growing with each passing moment. There were no personal black market doctors available for hire—every reputable one was already taken. It seemed like luck was against him today.

With a heavy sigh, he closed the browser window and turned his attention to the stack of mail sitting on his desk. Among the bills and junk mail, there it was – a jury duty summons.

He groaned aloud, rubbing his temples in frustration. Spending hours in a stuffy courtroom was the last thing he needed right now. It meant taking time away from his work, time that could be spent securing lucrative contracts and staying ahead of the game.

But there was no avoiding it. He knew he'd have to fulfill his civic duty, no matter how inconvenient it might be. With a resigned shake of his head, he tucked the summons into his pocket, another burden to add to the weight on his shoulders.

You find yourself slumping down on the hard concrete steps in front of the courthouse, the weight of defeat heavy upon you. Having lost your case and now facing a million dollars in debt, the world seems to close in around you. With a resigned sigh, you reach for your pack of cigarettes, seeking solace in the familiar routine.

"Mind sharing your pack?" A deep, coarse voice breaks through your thoughts, and you glance over to see a tall man dressed in black leaning against the railing beside you. Without hesitation, you extend your pack to him, and he takes one before returning the pack to you.

Simon curses to himself, realizing he's forgotten his lighter, confiscated earlier by a courthouse officer. "Mind lighting me? Fuckers at the courthouse took my light," he grumbles, frustration evident in his voice.

You smiled and handed him your lighter, the flame casting a warm glow on his face as he lit his cigarette. "Jury duty?" you asked casually, observing him take a deep drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

"Yeah, you?" he replied, his tone resigned but with a hint of intrigue.

You laughed wryly and took another drag, the bitter taste of nicotine mingling with the heavy weight of your circumstances. "Just got sued for a million fucking dollars."

"Bloody fuck, what did you do?" Simon's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his interest immediately piqued.

You couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "I replaced a man’s heart with a pig heart," you confessed, fully aware of how crazy it sounded.

Simon's eyes widened in intrigue, and without hesitation, he walked over and sat down next to you, his curiosity now fully ignited. Knowing how to perform a heart transplant suggested a level of medical expertise that interested him.

"And how the bloody hell did you do that?" he asked, his curiosity evident in his voice.

“I was just sitting at the intersection for ages waiting for the light to change, when I noticed a guy getting mugged. Without thinking, I grabbed my emergency kit from the car and rushed over. Since I have O negative blood, I used my own blood for a transfusion to stabilize him. Then, I spotted a truck nearby loaded with pigs. I didn't waste a second - I hopped in, grabbed a pig, and performed an open heart surgery right there on the sidewalk. Sure, the guy ended up with a pig heart, but he's alive because of it. And now he's suing me? Unbelievable. Should've left that fuck to die.”

Simon couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, but beneath the laughter, a plan began to form in his mind.

"So he was standing in the courtroom with a pig's heart?"

You shook your head, a wry smile playing on your lips. "No, he ended up getting a proper heart transplant. One that would never have happened if I hadn't stepped in. The bastard would've bled out and wasted all my blood before the paramedics even arrived."

"Are you a licensed doctor?”

Open heart surgery on a sidewalk and having O-negative blood? You were better than any doctor he could hire on the black market.

You shrugged nonchalantly. "No, I had my license revoked a few years back. They said my practice and way of thinking were unconventional, that I should be working in a lab making more Frankenstein’s than helping people. I took it as a compliment though. Those doctors were just scared of what I could do, of how far I would go to save someone."

Simon smiled and took another drag before smashing the cigarette on the floor under his boot.

"So you're looking for jobs?"

You sighed, mirroring his action with your own cigarette. "In desperate need for a job."

"I think we could help each other," Simon suggested, his tone shifting slightly.

You slowly side-eyed him, then awkwardly laughed as you leaned away. "I'm not looking for jobs like that."

Simon's eyebrow quirked up before he realized how he sounded, and he shook his head with a smile. "Not like that, love. I meant that you could work for me, and I'd pay you."

You relaxed a bit and leaned back, intrigued. "What do you do?"

"Let's just say, you stay with me as my personal doctor, and I pay you twenty percent after each job I complete. You'll have your money in a couple of months,"

"A million dollars in a couple of months? What kind of jobs are giving you that type of money-" realization dawned on you, and a chill ran down your spine. Simon was involved in something much darker than you anticipated, and memories of your own past involvements in the black market came flooding back, making your palms sweat with unease.

"I'm sorry, but I can't take your offer," you said, your voice firm but polite. Simon furrowed his brows in confusion and frustration. He had just given you an opportunity of a lifetime, one you so desperately needed, and you turned him down?

Internally sighing, Simon knew he'd have to resort to more extreme measures now.

You got up and dusted off your butt before looking down at him. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm going to head out," you said, offering a weak smile before turning and heading to your car.

That night, Simon tracked down where you lived and noted your home address. He packed his duffle bag and got into his car, making his way over to your house. With careful precision, he snuck into your backyard and opened your back window before silently slipping inside.

Meanwhile, you were sitting at your desk, scrolling through job offerings in your pajamas, feeling the weight of impending debt pressing down on you. With a heavy sigh, you turned off your monitor, resigned to your fate. That's when you noticed it—the faint outline of a man in the dark reflection of your monitor screen.

Simon attempted to cover your mouth with a rag, but you reacted swiftly, elbowing him hard and knocking the wind out of him. Turning around, you landed a solid punch to his jaw, leaving Simon in disbelief. He had underestimated you.

As you ran, trying to reach your room, Simon quickly pinned you to the floor. Despite your resistance, he managed to overpower you, but you fought back fiercely, headbutting him in the face. Simon grunted, trying his best not to harm you.

You nearly reached your nightstand where you kept your gun, but Simon pinned you down again, this time on your stomach. Desperately, you struggled against him, but Simon pressed a rag against your mouth and nose, forcing you to inhale its contents. Despite your efforts to resist, you eventually succumbed to the effects, your body going limp in a matter of seconds.

Simon breathed deeply as he stood up, his chest heaving with exertion. Opening your nightstand, he retrieved your gun with a heavy sigh. "Bloody hell, love,"

Simon headed to the bathroom in search of your medical supplies. Finding what he needed, he grabbed a trash bag and hastily gathered a few of your clothes and essential items. With a sense of urgency, he tied up the bag and threw it over his shoulder, carefully picking you up and carrying you to his car.

Tag list: @shinchanboi @talooolaaloolla

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acupofqueercoffee · 4 months ago

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“Fires of Fidelity”

Rhaenys Targaryen x Female Reader

wc : 4800+

cw : ambiguous relationships // description of violence which i wouldn’t call graphic but it depends i guess // there’s smut towards the end, also not very explicit but then again, it depends :’)) // i am OBSESSED with her hair, so it would only make sense that my reader is also obsessed

rook’s rest doesn’t exist for me 🥰 fuck rook’s rest, and happiest of birthdays to my absolute badass of a queen 🥳🎂 but fuck her too (affectionate)

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

The market is teeming with hustle and bustle of common folks. A cacophony of vendors shouting and shoppers strolling around, alongside an undertone of your lady’s heeled boots kissing gravel throbs inside your ears, softened only by the cloak that you are currently shrouded under.

Overhead, clouds hang heavy, a grim portrait of gloomy greys and ivory whites, the sun but a vague presence in the silver-lined edges. No shadows paint the ground aside from you who is hot on your lady’s heels. Everywhere she walks, you follow, akin to a shadow perpetually casted on the ground.

Meanwhile, a few children scamper around you, shouting, laughing, and one comes astray, collides with your lady before she continues scurrying on her jolly little way, blissfully unaware. The sudden jostle has the precarious effect on the body in front of you for you notice the break in rhythm of the feet that are taking graceful steps. All at once, you are directly behind her, the gentle sway of her body braced by a stable palm across her back.

“Careful, Prin-” Eyes, a milky-way of green and brown, render you quiet. You are, after all, accompanying your Princess on her covert little trip to town.

Nevertheless, a token of her gratitude follows in the form of the tiniest hint of a smile that beautifully graces her features. Disguised beneath the cloak though her head is, given the close proximity of your bodies, you are granted an audience with wisps of moon-kissed locks caressing the delicate plane of her forehead.

“Walk next to me.” She says, and donning a playful smile, you drop a whisper directly into her ears. “As my lady commands.”

Aloofness shrouds her mien, lips a firm line, although it is not lost on you that there is a twinkle in her eyes, the cause of which dawns on you as soon as a sly hand disappears into the privacy of your cloak. Two of her digits waste no time in pinching your flesh through the fabric of your cloth. Pain blossoms, bringing with it a small wince to your face.

When her fingers remain unrelenting, a grumble flies past your lips, “I jest. I jest.” And only then does she relent with a hum, feet never faltering as you walk abreast, her body the very picture of cool and collected save a smile touching her lips.

“I have promised gifts for my granddaughters. What do you think would delight them?”

“Well, I’m afraid I’m the worst person you could have turned to for such suggestions.”

“Indulge me, then. Go on.”

Ever the woman of queenly manner, even her cadence oozes charisma. It colours your cheeks rosy, bringing forth memories from which the delightful utterance has graced your ears under more intimate circumstances.

“I don’t know.” You begin by clearing your throat, a shrug on your shoulders as you walk. “Perhaps a kiss on their cheeks would suffice? I know for a fact that it would delight me greatly.”

Being both a Princess and a Dragonrider, your lady looks every bit the epitome of poise and gravitas. Seldom does she wear her emotions on her face, head held high and spine ram-rod straight, always an enchanting enigma except to trained eyes which, as a matter of fact, are few and far between, although an aura of authority is effortlessly, perpetually crowned on her Targaryen head. However, having spent a better part of your years by her side, during formal as well as more personal occasions, you have mastered the art of unravelling the subtleties of her features and nuances of her words.

It is how you find yourself now, raising a hand in faux surrender along with a defensive arm across your waist by merely a slight tilt of her head and a gaze to your face.

“Again, I jest.”

In the vicinity of the place where you currently stand, a ruckus suddenly arises, a heated argument between two vendors, it appears, which quickly fans the flames of a full-blown uproar. A crack of thunder is a prelude to the heavy drizzle that descends upon the crowd as fists are thrown, and like a carcass attracting vultures, the fight lures those who have an innate thirst for violence.

While the chaos unfolds, your sole focus is solemnly fixed on the Princess by your side, all the more so because a plethora of people are darting around in panic. You do not know, have no time to seek what your lady’s wishes are as instinct forces you to act. Taking her waist in your arm, you tuck her body into a nook as delicately as possible.

A desperate attempt on your part to narrowly escape the wagon that whizzes past leaves your bodies fitted together, your lady’s back pressed against the wall with your hand behind her head softening the impact. Her breath caresses your face, and the perfumed air is tentalising, fruity with sweet floral notes alongside something that is entirely her.

Meanwhile, the downpour has become more merciless, and you commit to memory the way raindrops cling to her lashes like tiny diamonds.

“Have anyone ever told you that you have such beautiful eyelashes, Princess?”

An arch of an eyebrow accompanies the dainty little rain-soaked lips as they curve into a dizzying smile.

“Evidently, I have.”

“So it seems.” You chuckle, step away, although not before you have adjusted her cloak in such a way that it will offer her face more protection against the rain. “I’m afraid you’ll have to cut your trip short, my lady.”

“It would appear so.”

“Shall we return to the castle then?”

Rivulets of rain travel down your cheeks, and your lady invites herself into your space, mirroring your movement from a while ago as fingers fix the hood on your head, supple in their movements.

“Yes, let’s return home.”

Home.

Home to you is not a place, but rather, a person. A person to whom you have sworn loyalty, to protect, to kill for, and should the need arise, to give your life for. Simply put, your home is by your Princess’s side, and hence, the subtle admission that the castle is as much a home to you as it is to her becomes the culprit behind the joyful little swell of your heart.

The short journey back to the castle is taken by way of a detour, in which you lead your lady through quiet alleyways, except that they are too deserted, almost suspiciously so. Once you reach the town square, you guide your lady to the exit on the other side, a hand on her back as you match her pace.

Beyond the archway, a hooded person is looming out of the darkness, and no sooner have you registered their dubious presence than your hand is grabbing your lady’s waist to urge her behind your body.

“Well, well, look who we have here.”

You recognise the voice to be that of a person from your life before your Princess, a thug who has had unsavoury history with you.

“I don’t have time for your tomfoolery.”

Mockery drips from your lips as you turn, taking your lady by her arm to leave through another archway, but to your vexation, you find that more hooded hooligans have obstructed your path. Hidden beneath your cloak is a sword attached to your hip. Closing your fingers around the hilt of it, you scan your surroundings with a surreptitious move of your eyes. There is a total of five people, six if you include the man standing behind you.

“Don’t you mean, you have no time at all because you see, me and my boys, we’re about to end you right here.”

He taunts you with his words, his insufferable tone grating on your nerves, and irked, you unsheathe your sword, just in time to swivel on your feet and parry his slash, a clang echoing through the alley when your blades collide. At the same time as you hold your stance, a strong kick is unleashed to his chest. The force of it sends him sprawling across the ground, and you let loose a snicker.

“All bark and no bite, eh?”

From your left and right, two of his lapdogs charge at you, and your blade effortlessly cuts through the air in a blur of sharp counterattacks and swift manoeuvres. You make quick work of them, one stab through the abdomen, another through the chest, and they are nothing but marionettes severed of strings, drowning in a pool of their own blood. Following in the wink of an eye is a shower of three more swords that descends upon you in full force, and you block them with your blade, raised horizontally above your head. No matter how well-trained you are, the combined strength of three against one is proving to be a little beyond your endurance.

Your knee has barely braced against the muddy ground when all of a sudden, one of your opponents drops dead, the Velaryon seahorse adorned hilt of a dagger which is embedded in his back letting you know that it has been a product of your lady’s great finesse.

Until now, all of their attention has been fixated on you, but now that your lady has divulged her capabilities, the two lapdogs disperse, one rushing towards your lady with a cry while the other swings his blade at you with renewed vigour. Every inch of your body screams at you to rush to your lady’s side, but the wretched little demon in front of you is giving you no leeway, lavishing you with onslaughts upon onslaughts of attacks, one of which, in your desperation to end him quickly, manages to catch you in your cloak.

“Stay focused, tigress.” As if sensing your distress, your Princess calls out to you. “Don’t worry about me.”

One touch of her voice and fire meets gasoline, the flame within you burning so fiercely that you let out a loud roar.

“Come on! Come at me, you cunt of a coward!!”

Having his feather ruffled by your gibe, he charges at you once more, but when the blade comes, rather than avoiding it, you catch it between your arm and body, trapping the sword and its wielder in place as you push your blade through his chest so hard that a good few length of it escapes through his back. Blood pours out of his sorry little mouth, and retrieving your sword from his body effectively drops him to the ground.

Your lady’s strikes, not as refined though they are as yours, can easily withstand a vermin whose attacks are disorganized at best. Furthermore, she is swift on her feet, wielding the agility of a crane whereas you possess the strength of a tigress, or so your Princess has whispered into your ears, your strikes always heavy, deep and precise.

Speaking of the Princess, your gaze catches her in time to feast your eyes upon her magnificence. The vermin has swung his blade at your lady, but she has gracefully swept down, and before he can recover, her dagger has made his stomach its temporary case, a snug fit. You watch, morbidly fascinated, as blood spills forth the hole once she pulls out her weapon before bestowing another swift stab upon his neck.

Out of five lapdogs, two lie dead at the hands of your lady, and three at yours which leaves only the old hound who at present, is eyeing you with contempt. When he starts advancing however, instead of lunging at you, he opts for your Princess, but having predicted his dirty, old tricks, you easily intercept, swift and light on your feet as your blades clash. You dance around each other in an exchange of onslaughts until once again, you are forced to maintain a firm stance to keep his sword from bearing down on you.

The rain has thinned and through the clouds, the sun’s rays has spilled across Driftmark. In the corner of your eyes, you discern a glint. You notice it a second too late though because one moment, both of his hands are keeping a firm grip on the blade, and the next, one hand has disappeared into his cloak to retrieve a hidden dagger. Nevertheless, his strength barely wavers, and so engrossed in keeping the looming threat at bay you are that you have not been able to stop in time the dagger that stabs you.

Although its sharp tip has scarcely pierced your flesh before you lock your fingers around his wrist, the struggle that pursues leaves a crimson slash across the plane of your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you swallow the pain in fear that it will upset your Princess who apparently has seized the opportunity to deliver cuts to the backs of his knees. Immediately, he falls to the ground with a grunt. Meanwhile, you waste no time in kicking the dagger away from his hand and throwing his blade across the square.

“Bagged yourself another degenerate like yourself, huh? Or did you whore yourself out?”

You are not as perturbed by him making a ridicule out of you as you are livid by his insults towards your lady, but when you have poised to throw a punch to his face, a gentle hand on your arm stops you.

Pulled free of the hood and kissed by sunshine, a waterfall of liquid starlight almost appears to be glowing.

“Lady wife of the Sea Snake.”

She remains silent at his observation, staring him down, but something about him not addressing your lady by her individual title rubs you the wrong way. Still, you will not interfere, for after all, you dance to your lady’s every desire.

Entwined hands resting just below her waist, your Princess has donned intimidation as though it is regalia, a goddess to be worshiped oozing effortless allure.

“I- I didn’t know. Have mercy.”

“I can be merciful if I so choose, but I can’t in good conscience have a vengeful man pouncing on my sworn shield at every chance he gets. And what’s more, you have thrown insults to my face. I could have your tongue for it.” She blinks, sly and languid, slow and deliberate, alongside a small tilt to her head. “So, what do you propose I do, hm?”

“My tongue. If- if it would appease you-”

The old hound in the face of the dragon is like a lamb to the slaughter, grovelling at the feet of the exalted creature who slowly approaches him.

“Insults are insignificant.” So, she drawls, and before he can register a word, a dagger has been plunged so deeply into his throat by way of his mouth that blood gurgles. “Keep your tongue.”

A squelch accompanies the recovery of the dagger. While she wipes it clean off blood on his cloth, you carry out your own retrieval of her other dagger buried in the back of another body. It, too, is wiped clean before being sheathed on her hip.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Your question is answered with a query. “Are you?”

Her gaze, beneath the dapple of daylight, holds the warmth of sunlit amber, flecked with whispers of forest green, and when it caresses your body from head to toe in silent observation, the wound hidden beneath your cloak throbs in harmony with the beat of your heart.

“I am.” You say, and your lopsided grin garners a small smile in return. “It’s high time we returned home then.”

It is only when you have escorted your lady into the safety of her castle that your false bravado comes to light. Your fingers touch your stomach and they come away wet, viscous, and overwhelmingly red. While you are lost in your head, the voice that caresses your ears comes in the form of your name, and you look up to find your lady standing in front of you.

Stickiness clings to your palm as you curl your digits into a fist, but your sorry excuse of an attempt is proven futile when lithe fingers lock around your wrist. A tug coupled with a look from her is all it takes for your fist to pour open. You can almost pinpoint the exact moment when realisation dawns on her, in the delicate lines on her face that have all but calcified into rocky plains.

“Uncloak.” Her tone harbours an icy ring to it by the time she speaks, releasing your hand at the same time, although when you stand unmoving, she demands instead. “Now.”

Pulling your dark cloak open reveals to your lady the cut across your stomach in all its scarlet, grisly glory. There is a twitch to her jaw as well as a tiny tilt to her head, and when she looks at you, a tempest brews in her eyes, but beneath the blaze of storm-tossed sea, dark and churning with a blazing anger, you find a shadow of concern.

“Pay a visit to the Maester, get it treated, and by nightfall, I want you in my chambers.”

And so, that is how you find yourself in your lady’s chambers after getting the crimson slash properly cleaned, stitched and wrapped in fresh linens at the masterful hands of House Valeryon’s Maester.

The door shuts with a soft click, and a greeting falls past your lips.

“Princess.”

You have crossed paths with her handmaiden in the corridors leading up to the chambers, and she must have helped your lady get ready for bed, you conclude, for the Princess is now comfortably clothed. Oddly enough however, her braids are not yet unwoven which is how you find her now, sitting in front of her vanity desk, a waterfall of white silk flowing down her back.

As if possessing a mind of their own, your legs carry you towards your lady before depositing you directly behind her back. Immediately, reverently, your fingers make a descent onto the intricate little bun perched atop her head, during which the Princess regards you silently through the mirror’s reflection. With much delicacy, you unbind the thick braid that is keeping the bun in place, and doing so spills another layer of those silken locks in an effortless cascade down her back.

“You would do well to remember-” It is amidst you undoing one of the smaller braids that her voice graces your ears for the first time since you have set foot in her chambers. Meanwhile, her gaze finds yours in the mirror. “-that your fealty to me is to no avail should you lie wounded and are unable to fulfill your duties.”

“But what good is a sworn shield who cannot…well…” With a sigh, you drop your gaze to your hands before seeking her eyes once more. “…shield?”

“And what good is a sworn shield who cannot stand?”

“I am perfectly capable of standing though.”

“Are you?”

And then, she is turning on her seat, a lock of her star-kissed hair slipping through your fingers like liquid silver, as she seizes you by your tunic. In the wink of an eye, dainty lips collide with your own, all but sucking your soul out of your body, and your witty remark, which you have been intending to let loose, dissolves on her tongue altogether.

Such marks the epilogue to your little repartee.

While one hand holds a fistful of fabric, another wanders, ghosting along your thigh to then settle on your stomach, fingertips dancing across the gauze before it grabs your waist. A wicked pad of a thumb presses onto your side, and the outcome is just shy of agony, a whimper being fed into your lady’s mouth as your knees very nearly fail you.

“Kneel.”

With a mere touch of her murmured breath branded so deliciously onto your lips that are presently bearing the fruit of her ardent assaults, you are instantly reduced to a puddle at her feet, eager to worship your goddess.

“Hmm, I thought as much.”

“Well,-” Your tone is tinged with a whine, whereas a smile blossoms on your face. “-that was unfair.”

“Are you questioning your Princess?”

You tuck your face into her stomach, dropping a little kiss onto the spot where you think her navel lies.

“I wouldn’t dare, Princess.”

In the meantime, fingers trace patterns on your cheek, caress the outline of your jaw, and closing your eyes, you revel in the luxurious sensation up until a palm that cradles your face coaxes you out of your sweet sanctuary.

“It would be cruel of me to have you remain kneeling.” As she speaks, her thumb maps each curve and contour of your lips, which, swollen by now, speaks of whispered words and the heady waltz of fervent kisses. “I believe improvisations are in order.”

“Strip.”

And strip, you do, for at present, you stand only in your loose trousers.

Gracefully, tentalisingly, your lady arises, and even though a few braids remain in place, her hair, now freed from its confine, flows freely past her hip, a cascade of luminous waves shimmering like moonlight upon a still lake. Her gaze, on the other hand, is fixed on the linen that is entirely wrapped around your waist. The seepage of blood from the wound paints the white fabric in a vague vermillion which offers a glimpse into the extent of the injury.

“It will heal in no time, my lady.” Your attempt at soothing your lady is received with a gentle threat. “I do not tolerate imprudence. Nor deceit. It would do you well to remember that.”

“I will, Princess. But it doesn’t mean I won’t do it all over again if it concerns your safety.”

“Stubborn as ever.”

“My Princess likes me stubborn though, doesn’t she?”

“With that bold tongue of yours, count yourself lucky that I do.” Although she has leveled you with a glare, the blaze of which can very well put the sun to shame, you smile a cheeky little grin, looking every bit the picture of a cat that has eaten the canary, or rather, a tigress who has eaten the dragon. “That I agree. My tongue is capable of doing unimaginable wonders after all.”

You feel her hands move, and fearing that her fingers are once again going to subject you to those ruthless torments, you quickly raise your hands in surrender. She proves you wrong however by snaking her fingers into the waistband of your trousers.

“These need to go too.”

Your Princess has said her command, and like the very devotee that you are, your hands make swift work of getting rid of the only piece of clothing that is covering your body. Meanwhile, what enters your line of sight is a heap of white fabric that pools at your lady’s feet.

A breath catches in your throat, your heart beating with an awe so profound that it borders on reverence. She is a nymph of old tales, a creature of myth sung by the bards, born of the elements and graced with the beauty of the divine. Her presence, lucid and otherworldly at the same time, seems to draw the very light towards her, bathed in a halo of celestial radiance.

Your lady’s bare frame, delicate and strong, speaks of both grace and power, a goddess in her own right. It is a sight that will never tire you, and despite having seen it before, you are awed anew by such glorious vision. Your gaze lingers, admiring the soft curves and the rise and fall of her chest, enthralled by the sheer wonder of her existence that stirs the deepest corner of your soul.

Fascinated, you go to take her hips in your hands, but a push from her, and pliantly, you let yourself fall onto the mattress, for after all, a dragon will always be a dragon no matter the circumstances. You have not so much as blinked when she climbs atop the bed to straddle your body, toned thighs, befitting a dragon-rider of her caliber, on either side of your ribcage.

Your lips collide.

Amidst the clash of tongues and teeth, your hands find home on her waist, flesh supple and soft beneath your fingertips, as you move to sit up, lifting your lady slightly to reposition her on your lap, a special throne fit for your Queen.

Wetness oozes, and as soon as you feel the heat of her core on your thigh, you moan, but given that you are locked in place by a hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and an arm around your neck, it tumbles directly into her mouth. There is a sway to her hips, her essence coating your flesh, and all too eagerly, you encourage the dragon-rider to ride your thigh to her heart’s content, hands sliding into the delicious little dip of her waist as you help her maintain the rhythm that she has set.

Her lips part from yours with a delectable little mewl. Those delicate buds, once dainty, now beautifully bears the bloom of passion’s visit. Each swell hints at the fervor of love’s embrace, leaving them a charming, rosy hue, a testament to moments of rapture. Coated in a layer of dew, they glisten softly in the warm glow, as if kissed by dawn itself, promising the sweet ache of desire.

Like a siren’s call, they lure you, and enchanted, you give in, raising a hand to gently trace the curve of her lips beneath your fingertips. A gasp escapes your lips once your wrist is caught in her hand. Another catches in your throat when two of your fingers are sucked into her mouth.

Every ridge and bone is visited by a velveteen tip of a tongue, licking, prodding, and by the time she guides your hand between her legs, your fingers are as equally soaked as her core. They slip inside smoothly to be enveloped in luxurious softness. Curling your fingers into a cruel, little curve seems to drown your lady in sweet suffering if the way her forehead falls atop your shoulder to muffle the sounds, that very nearly spill out of her, with a bite to your flesh is any indication.

Beneath the soft folds of her belly, you can see muscles straining, hidden little pearl, hard and sensitive, grinding against your palm to seek friction. Meanwhile, your love-struck gaze is busy admiring the lovely little freckles that are scattered across her chest, a spillage of stars, and upon chasing them with your lips, syrupy sweet kisses blossom in their wake.

The sight of her trembling frame as she rides your fingers is a scene worthy to be immortalised in art form, but at the same time, you frankly doubt that bards and painters all across Westeros can truly do your lady’s ethereal beauty justice. Swelling to near bursting with adoration, you hold her to your chest, fingers doing their job in the warm cavern of her core, and in doing so, you earn yourself a nibble to your neck, lips closing around your pulse point, sucking, kissing.

Hot air escapes your mouth as you bury your nose in the healthy mane of her hair.

“You seem awfully fond of my hair, tigress.” She pants, whereas you smile, nuzzling her silky strands that are not only smooth but also addictively fragrant. “Fond is an understatement, Princess.”

“What is it, then?”

“Love.”

“You love my hair?”

You abandon your happy, little haven in favour of taking her face in your hand. Tiny pearls of sweat blooms on her forehead while her lips are slightly parted. A knit occupies the space between her eyebrows while her eyes, usually an intense hazel brown, are now hazy with hunger.

“I love you,-” It is into the delicate lines forming at the corner of her mouth that you breathe your admission. “-and everything you have to offer.”

She says nothing, but you doubt even a thousand spoken words will be capable of touching you the way you feel deeply touched by being made aware of the effect it has on her in the fluttering of her folds as they clench your fingers. Your lady has died that sweet little death in your embrace, head collapsing onto your shoulder. It is only when her muscles have relaxed, and her core has released its grip on your fingers that they can finally slip out.

“And my dear tigress.” Fingers lazily toy with your hair. “Yes, Princess?”

“Don’t you dare hide your wounds from me ever again.” Your arms wrap around her body to hold her a little closer, a little tighter, into which she happily melts, rare moments where you can witness her softer, more affectionate side.

Nevertheless, you must have taken too long to her liking because the delicate flesh of your neck falls victim to her teeth.

“Do I make myself clear?”

Although she has left you throbbing in pain, the happiness that swells inside your chest easily prevails over anything and everything, burning so fiercely that you feel as if you can conquer the Seven Kingdoms to offer it to her on a diamond platter. Suppressing your silly little urge, you content yourself instead with a delicate press of a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“Delightfully so, Princess.”

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