#being told that sort of thing just melds into your soul | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

salt-warrior · 4 years ago

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Alright folks... it’s time for me to forever shame myself, because I’m publishing a crack fic. I’ve NEVER done that before because I usually just write crack fics for my own enjoyment, but this crack fic was inspired by a post that @impossiblesuitcase wrote. So thank you for that, lovely. Also thank you @cosmicnovaflare for pushing me to write this, I love you always.

This crack fic is a crossover of three of my own fanfictions. So if you have not red Unsinkable, The Echo of Silence, and The Time it Takes to Fall, then literally none of this will make any sense. All three play vital roles in this story. Seriously, you’ll be in the dark so don’t read it unless you’ve read all of them.

Again, this is a crack fic so it’s even more wildly unrealistic than my other writing. And I am also going to pretend I never wrote it because I am ashamed. The original endings are the real endings in my mind. You have been warned.

So without further ado, I present you with 6,249 words of crack fic that I wrote in one sitting yesterday instead of doing my homework. Enjoy.

Tags: @shellyseashell @cindersassasin @gingerale2017 @healing-winston-pratt @winterrhayle @just2bubbly @f-r-o-p @idkchatie (I’m only tagging the people who were really angry with Unsinkable because I think a lot of you have read all three of those stories? If not, then sorry for the tag, I love you guys<333)

Until Forever Ends

Before Kai’s father had passed away, he’d told Kai to pursue what he needed to find peace. He’d probably meant something along the lines of falling in love with another girl or switching up his career. Surely he hadn’t intended for his son to look into the mythical sisters of life and death.

It had been a long day, with him first going to his father's funeral, then to see Cinder's gravesite one last time. He hated leaving her there, but he had hope that when they would meet again, he would speak to her and not a marble headstone.

He'd mailed notes to all his friends that morning. To Scarlet and Wolf, Jacin and Winter, and Cress. He'd detailed an adventure across the world that he would be having. After all, his father had left everything he owned to Kai, and he wanted to make the most of living. Of course it was all a fantastic lie; he was traveling the world, and perhaps it would be an adventure, but it was more of a journey than anything else. And he didn't plan on ever coming home.

Because even if he found what he was looking for, he couldn't return to his friends. They wouldn't understand—they couldn't understand.

So he would travel to the ends of the Earth, and he would find her.

***

Kai sat on a sandy beach, the waves lapping up over his legs, his nostrils filling with the scent of salt. The sky was gray and the air cold, but he could not feel its bitter sting. His clothes were torn ragged and his hair grown long and shaggy. If one were to gaze upon him, they would believe him to be insane. But he did not care. He was on the hunt for the sisters of life and death— and he was close.

It had been months since his father’s funeral; months since he’d left Cinder’s grave back in Arizona. He’d flown across the sea and traveled to lands he hadn’t even known existed. He’d slept under the stars and beneath the blanket of darkness. He’d listened to stories of people who lived their lives over and over in search of love and those who had been played for fools. He’d seen much and learned even more.

He’d heard tales of the two sisters: one life and the other death. They began as whispered fairy tales, told to him by drunkards and fools. But as he investigated further, he discovered that the sisters were real.

They existed throughout all the lands of the world, always under different names. In some lands they were simply Life and Death, while in others they were Angel and Demon or creatures of the Earth. He simply knew them as Light and Darkness. He only hoped to call out to the sister of light and life, not the one of darkness and death.

Throughout all his travels, no one had ever been able to tell him how to call each sister, only that they came to the cries of the brokenhearted who claimed, and fervently meant, that they would do anything to bring their love back to them. It had to be a plea for love that consumed one’s entire soul— but his soul was filled with Cinder, and Cinder alone.

He watched the black sea as it foamed about him. There had been conflicting views as to where one had to be when summoning either of the sisters. Some claimed that the person had to be in the place of their lover’s birth, while others explained that you had to be in the exact place of their final breath. One woman had even claimed that without the body of his dead lover still warm in his arms, he could not bring her back. Kai had shivered at that proclamation, with Cinder dead and in the ground for well over a year.

But there had been one account that had remained etched in his mind. A scholar somewhere in Europe, who had quoted the lines of Edgar Allen Poe’s last poem to Kai.

“And neither the angels of Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.”

“The sea would be the best place to call one of the sisters to you,” the scholar had said. “For that is their home. With the Angel above and the Demon below, they will hear your cries.”

So Kai went to the sea.

Slowly the gray sky melded into black, allowing for the stars to dot the emptiness and the moon to shine across the waves with hints of white light. He knew he should have been cold, and perhaps he was, but there was nothing left in him but the aching wish to be with Cinder once more.

“Cinder,” he whispered her name through chapped lips. “My love. I would do anything–” his voice broke off with a sob, tears falling like the spray of the ocean. “Anything,” he reiterated. “To be with you again.”

The waves of the sea began to swirl about him, pulling him off the beach and out into the waves. He screamed as his head dipped below the water, but a bubble of air had formed around him, preventing any wetness from glancing across his skin.

Everything seemed to grow lighter, despite the darkness he had remembered seeing. The waves danced about him in hues of deep purple and foam green. Fish swam around him in a flurry, and even the stars in the sky appeared to stand in closer proximity to himself.

Then everything slowed, and Kai found himself thrown back upon the sandy beach shore. He laid upon the ground, staring at the moon in the sky, which seemed within arms reach. He lifted a hand as if to touch it.

A hand reached out to brush against his fingers, and Kai pulled back. Silhouetted against the moon was the most glorious woman that Kai had ever beheld. There was no beauty comparable to her own. Her skin was dark and lined with gold tracings that resembled the very waves of the sea. She wore a dress of crimson that covered her figure elegantly, and jewelry of gold lined her ears and neck.

“Oh my stars,” she gasped, jumping back from him as she gazed upon his face. “It’s you.”

Kai was too shocked to speak. He dropped his hand back upon his chest as he looked up at her. His eyes mapped the kindness in her face and the confusion in her eyes as she gawked at him. All that he could register was that he was in the presence of an otherworldly being.

At long last her words caught up to his thoughts and puzzlement of his own registered in his mind. “Do we know one another?”

The woman’s face softened, and she shook her head slowly. “No, I suppose we do not. Or at the very least, not in this lifetime; not in this world. I am Light, the sister of life and all things which make life beautiful. For what reason do you weep so?”

Kai’s heart skipped a beat at her words. He pushed himself up so he rested upon his knees before her, looking up at her glorious face. She glowed, as if she were the moon itself, rather than just having it shine behind her.

“My wife,” Kai explained, “Cinder, died. She is gone from this life, and I wish to be with her again. I… I just wish to be with her again.”

“You are a fool to call down a deity on purpose. You could have just as easily received my sister,” Light exclaimed, though there was a certain sorrow hidden behind her gaze. “But you have been shadowed with luck upon this day. I can sense your pain, and the both of us know that you could call upon me only if your very soul screamed for your love and your love alone.

“I do not often grant requests of such a sort, unlike my sister, who joys in tricking lovers to be her slaves for all eternity. I find that traveling into the next world is the best option— that waiting for Darkness to collect you and transfer your soul fresh and new into another world is the best way to go.” She stopped speaking, then fell to her knees so she and Kai were at eye-level with one another. “But I have met your soul in another world— one where it knew only pain. I have met many creatures of the Earth through my eons of serving them. I aid those in all the universes known alongside my sister. But in all that time I have never stumbled upon the same man twice.

“And it is for that reason that I shall grant you your request,” Light said, touching her fingers against Kai’s cheek. She winced as she wiped the tears from his face.

Kai couldn’t breath, unable to process the words she was speaking to him. He would be with Cinder once more— she would be returned to him. All would be right in the world once more.

“However, I cannot reunite you with the girl you knew in this world,” Light explained with a sigh. “With your love gone for over a year, that piece of her soul has already passed into a new universe— it has been wiped of all her joy and all her sorrows. That piece of Cinder now abides somewhere else.”

Within an instant, Kai felt his world crumble into a thousand pieces. He hated himself for believing that it had been possible— that he could be with Cinder once more. But he was too late; he had waited too long. Now he would have to live the rest of this wretched life without her and hope to meet her in another universe.

“Do not fret, dear child,” Light chided, smoothing the hair back from his face in a motherly fashion. “For there is hope yet.”

“There is?” Kai asked.

“Yes; for while that fraction of Cinder that you know has vanished into another world, her soul still resides in other universes. You see, the soul lives thousands of lives, all in different realities. For it is not one solid being, it is an entity that never ceases to exist, and can exist in more than one place at once. The only problem being that the more time it spends in one universe, the more corrupt and destroyed it becomes. If your soul could recall other realities, you would understand of what I speak, for this was the exact circumstance under which we last met.”

Kai nodded along, pretending that he had even the faintest idea of what she was speaking of. She let out a great exasperated sigh, shaking her head. Light dropped her hand from his face and got to her feet.

“Your mortal mind cannot begin to comprehend the meaning of eternity. For while you shall live forever, you will not know it. There is a block upon your soul to cause you to forget; that is why it pains man so much to try and imagine living for forever.

“But that does not matter now. For when you are dead, your soul shall endure cleansing once more and be whisked off into another life in which you shall live and love and die again. Exhausting, isn’t it?”

Kai stared blankly, completely at a loss for words.

Light looked down upon him, stars shining in her eyes. “Dear child, there is another world in which your dearest love lived with you, but you were taken from her. Her soul aches for you in the way that yours aches for hers. I have never before transferred a soul to a different reality without death occurring first, but I have also never stumbled upon the same soul twice. Yours is a soul filled with more love and loss than any other I have come to know. So upon this night I shall reunite you with your love.”

The ocean began to swirl about them once more, pulling Kai into its great depths, but this time he did not scream. Light began to rise into the air, her arms spread wide as if to cup the moon above her hair. The wind howled, twisting the coils of her black hair about her face and the crimson swathes of fabric about her body. She was a glorious arrayment of red and gold and shining light.

Above the wind, Light shouted in a tongue lost to mortals, for it was the language of the first of mankind, and it had been forgotten. The sea continued to spin around Kai, fish of every color swimming about him. He was in the eye of an oceanic tornado.

Still Light rose higher into the air, pulling her crashing waves about her as she ascended toward the moon. All that Kai could see were the many sea creatures and the luminous goddess above him, growing brighter every moment.

A high-pitched scream filled his ears, though it was not a human one. It blocked out the sound of the waves and the echoing chants of Light above him. It filled his very being as the blinding light penetrated his soul.

And just as he wondered if this would be the destruction of his very soul, everything went black.

***

Kai awoke to the roar of the ocean, and felt an instant rush of cold tear through his body. His mind flashed with the memories of calling Light to him and begging her to send him to a life in which Cinder lived. He could recall the overwhelming light that had surrounded him, and the screaming that blocked out all other thoughts as the goddess rose above him in a tornado of the sea.

He pushed himself up and stared out at the waves. It was bright— the middle of the day by his reckoning— and warm. People stood in the ocean waves wearing an odd assortment of clothes rather than bathing suits. Or at least, they weren’t the kind of bathing suits that Kai knew.

A few people stared at him with quizzical looks, though Kai couldn’t deny that he probably deserved them. He wasn’t sure how long he had been laying upon the beach, though he was almost certain it had been some time.

“Are you alright, mister?” A kid asked, looking down at Kai. His cheeks were pink from sunburn, though it wasn’t particularly hot out.

“Yeah,” Kai said, getting to his feet and dusting off his jeans. The boy watched him warily. “Hey kid, what day is it?”

“December second,” the boy replied.

“And,” Kai scratched behind his ear. "What’s the year?”

The boy gawked at him for a moment, as if he thought Kai were either very dumb or very strange. “1912,” he said the year slowly, his slightly syrupy accent not helping. “What year did you reckon it to be?”

“I don’t know.” Kai glanced around, trying to gauge the situation. He didn’t know much about 1912. Actually, he knew nothing about it other than it was a couple years before World War I broke out. “Hey kid, where are we?”

The child, who couldn’t have been older than ten gave him an incredulous stare, then glanced over his shoulder, as if to check for his mother. “Savannah, sir,” he said.

“Savannah…”

“Georgia, sir,” the kid said, taking a couple steps back from Kai.

“Okay.” Kai sucked in a breath between his teeth, trying to think of what to do next. He was beginning to panic, for he did not know where to find Cinder in this different time and place. He didn’t even know if her name was Cinder, or even Selene.

“Hey kid?” Kai asked, glancing back down to talk to the boy, but he was running toward a woman glaring daggers at Kai.

Releasing a sigh, Kai walked away from the beach and toward the bustling town. People shot glares at him as he walked down the streets. He wasn’t exactly dressed in the way a normal twenty-first century guy would be, but his jeans and shredded red t-shirt didn’t fit in with the people surrounding him either. But there wasn’t a thing he could do about it; he had no money and no connections. He was alone in a world that did not belong to him. He couldn’t even be certain that Georgia meant the same thing to these people as it did him.

He was beginning to wonder if perhaps this was all some ridiculous dream, and whether or not he would wake up soon. But he’d thought that a lot over the past year, praying to whatever being that saw over mankind that Cinder wasn’t dead— that he wasn’t alone. That he could be with his wife once more.

And then he saw her.

Her hair was longer than she’d ever worn it in his reality, nearly reaching her waist, and she wore a pale pink dress that fell well past her knees. But if those details were strange, it was nothing in comparison to the buggy she was pushing in front of her. Kai felt his stomach drop. Was she married to another man? Had she chosen Thorne in this reality instead of him?

Panic gripped him, but before he could run and hide in an alleyway, she glanced up and right at his face. Her eyes widened with shock, then joy, then fear. It was that last look that made his heart ache. He had known Cinder for seven years, but never had she looked at him in such a way.

She sunk to her knees, hands gripping the front of the stroller. “Kai,” she breathed, staring at him now with absolute horror. A tear traced down her cheek and fell to the concrete like a single drop of rain. The pain on her face ripped through his body— he could not stand to watch her suffer so.

He rushed to her side, kneeling down upon the ground beside her, much like Light had done with him the night before, or whenever it was that he had spoken with the goddess. She shook as he brushed her hair from her face and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Cinder,” he whispered, voice low. “I know that this is confusing and frightening, but I need to talk with you. I have things to explain.”

“But you’re dead,” she sobbed, turning her face away from his and shutting her eyes tight. “You didn’t make it off the ship alive. They told me you drowned. They told me you were dead. You’re dead. You’re just a figment of my imagination. You can’t be real.”

“Cinder,” Kai hushed, glancing around them. There were people walking past them, staring with curious eyes, but none of them looked nervous for Cinder’s sake. “Cinder, I know that I’m dead here. And I know that my explanation for my being here might not make any sense, but I need to speak with you in private. I can explain everything. I will explain everything. I just need for us to go somewhere where we can’t be overheard.”

She opened her eyes and the look of absolute shame in her eyes caused his heart to stop. Tears traced down her cheeks in abundance; Kai had never known Cinder to cry in such a way. He worried that she would say no— that she had moved on. That his coming here was a burden upon her. But slowly, she nodded her head.

***

They went to a park just down the street from the beach. It was run-down, with a sad swing set of splintering seats and an abandoned jungle gym. There were no children around, or even any people for that matter, a fact that Kai found almost strange. Though at his inquisitive look, Cinder simply looked away from him.

She led him to a park table that sat somewhat lopsided but was sturdy all the same. She parked the buggy beside her, drawing the cover up so it shielded whatever was inside.

Kai took a seat across from her, bouncing his legs with nerves as he watched her and she looked away. He didn’t understand why she was acting in such a way. He hadn’t had much time to think of how he expected her to react to him appearing to her out of nowhere, but it definitely hadn’t been this. Confusion, yes. But this show of shame was frightening.

“Cinder,” Kai said, tilting his head in an attempt to get her to look at him. “Cinder, what’s the matter?”

She inhaled deeply, a great shuddering breath. Then finally, she looked at him. Her eyes were red and her cheeks puffy. But despite the remorse coloring her features, she was still his Cinder. She was the girl that he had met at ASU his Junior year in college. She was the girl he had fallen in love with.

“They told me that you died,” she whispered. “I-I–”

“Alright,” Kai cut in, not wanting her to believe that she had insulted his memory in any way. After all, he was dead in this reality. He did not wish for her to believe that anything she had done after his death was wrong. “Sorry, love, I really don’t mean to cause you any harm. I just– I don’t know how to explain what I’m about to tell you.” Somehow his words came out slow and calm, though he felt rather as if he were about to explode. “But I need to tell you something, and I only ask that you listen to the entirety of my story because it might sound somewhat preposterous.”

She nodded her head slowly, tears wiping at her eyes.

Kai told their story, starting from the day he had met her back when she still lived with her step-sister. He explained that he had loved her for five years in silence before finally proclaiming his love for her when she’d explained that she’d never been in love before. He told her how they had gotten married only three months later and lived two years together happily before she’d died in a dreadful car accident.

She listened silently, her tears drying and her eyes hardening and he explained how Thorne had been in love with her and how Kai had gotten into a fight with both him and her father. She never once interrupted him, even as he explained his months of mourning, then his months of searching for a way to conjure one of the sisters of life and death.

It was only when he told her of how Light had appeared to him on the beach and brought him to her world through an oceanic tornado filled with moonlight that she chose to interrupt.

“What?” She hissed, tilting her head at him in that I-don’t-believe-a-single-word-coming-out-of-your-mouth sort of a way. If she had been the Cinder of his universe, he knew that she would have asked him how high he was.

“I know it sounds ridiculous,” Kai said, “but you have to believe me. I know that I don’t belong here— that I’m not meant to live in this world. But before you died you told me that you believe in soulmates. That you thought that every person had another half. You told me when we got together that you could feel that it was right— that it was a whisper in your ear that it was me. And I didn’t believe in soulmates then, but I do now. My soul loves your soul. It has loved it in universes that I don’t even know of, but it adored you all the same. My love for you will never die, no matter how many times I die myself. You are the only one that I will ever love. I cannot help it. My soul cannot think to love another so long as it knows you.”

“But this doesn’t make any sense,” Cinder whispered, her guards coming down. “Even if you were from another universe and you loved me there, I assure you that you would not care for me in this one. Not after what I’ve done to you.”

“Did you kill me?” Kai asked, half curious and half terrified.

Cinder let out a slight, hiccupping laugh. Kai did not feel at ease.

“Cinder,” Kai said, growing serious once more. “I don’t know what happened here— what happened to me— but I know that no matter where we are in the space-time continuum, my soul will always love yours. But if you wish me to leave you, I will.” His mouth went dry with the words, but he meant them. No matter how much it hurt to be parted from her, he would do what she asked of him.

“I’m married,” Cinder blurted out. “After you died, I married Carswell. We were engaged to be married before I eloped with you in London, but when I came back and you were dead, Kingsley thought that it would be the best option. That it would be better for everyone, especially the–”

She buried her face in her hands, but all Kai could think of was that she had married Carswell Thorne— her best friend in his world. The one who had told her that he was in love with her the day that she died. The Carswell that had fought with him at Scarlet and Wolf’s house. His blood boiled with rage, though not with Cinder. She had done what she had to to survive. But Thorne— he would have gladly hit him again.

Kai sucked in a breath and returned his thoughts to the more pressing matters. He had no clue what had happened to him in this life. For all he knew, Carswell Thorne had killed him and forced Cinder to be his bride. Maybe that’s how things had worked back then. Kai was no history major, but he knew that honor was often important to people. Perhaps there had even been a duel.

“What happened to me?” Kai asked, his voice soft. “How did I die in this life?”

Cinder drew her hands down from her face, but kept her eyes averted from him as she said, “You drowned. We were on the Titanic–”

“The Titanic?” Kai interjected, with a gasp. “Like Jack and Rose?”

“I– I don’t know,” Cinder said, furrowing her brow. “But we were sailing home and the ship– the ship sank. You forced me onto a lifeboat even though I said I wanted to stay with you.” She glared at him. “And you went down with the ship. You drowned. Or froze. I do not know, I wasn’t there with you when you passed from this life and onto the next. But you left me.”

“Oh,” Kai whispered. His body deflated. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be sorry,” Cinder sneered, then she shook her head. “No. No, you were just doing what you thought was the right thing. You saved me. And you saved–” She shut her eyes again, then finally reached out toward the buggy and pulled back the top to uncover what lay inside.

Oh course Kai knew what strollers were for, but before that moment he hadn’t really considered that there would be a child inside— at the very least, not her child. His child.

But it was his child. He could tell just by looking at the small infant that he was both Cinder and Kai mixed together. He was still young, but no longer a newborn. Great black tufts of hair rested on his head, and when he opened his eyes— Kai let out a gasp. They were exactly his own.

Cinder rocked the child back and forth, running his finger over its face in a soft, motherly way that made Kai’s very soul ache. They’d had a child together, and Kai hadn’t gotten to be there. It didn’t even particularly matter to him that it wasn’t exactly his child. He should have been there, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t been there for Cinder or their baby. He had abandoned them.

“I’m so sorry,” Kai blurted, devastation seeming to carve his heart out of his body. “Cinder,” Kai sobbed, his eyes stinging with tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I– I did abandon you. I’m so terribly sorry.”

“Shhh,” Cinder hushed, reaching a hand across the table and laying it over Kai’s. She looked startled. “Kai–” she started, then shook her head. “Kai, I’m mad at you, or him, or– I don’t even know. I’m mad that you saved me when you didn’t save yourself. But I will never be mad that you saved him.”

Kai stared down at her hand on his and saw the tracery of an old burn. It wasn’t as severe as the one she had had in his universe, but it was still there.

Cinder seemed to realize herself and pulled back. She bit her lip and stared down at the baby, brow furrowed.

“I named him after you,” she whispered after a time.

Kai opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.

“Kaito Rikan Prince,” Cinder continued, not looking at him. “I just– I saw him, and I knew who he was. It didn’t matter that my mother thought that he should have my grandfather’s name or that Kingsley thought he should be named after himself.” She made a face at that. “I knew that he should have the name of his father and his grandfather because they had helped to save his life.

“But now that you’re here, I– I don’t really know if that fits. It would be confusing to have two Kai’s around. But Rikan— I don’t know. I think that perhaps he could be a Rikan.”

“Uh-huh,” Kai breathed, still reeling.

Cinder looked up at him, her eyes softening. “I still don’t understand everything that happened, and in all honesty, I don’t believe you understand it all either.”

“But,” Cinder continued, closing one eye as if she were cringing at herself. “I know that every night for the past eight months I have cried for the pain of missing you so. I know that you have never left my thoughts for even an instant, both in waking and in sleep. I know that my soul loves yours, and while I do not know how long it has cared for you, I know that it always will.

“I know you’re not the you that I knew, but you also are. You’re my Kai, and not just because you look and sound like him. You watch me with that same careful way, and your laugh is the same. And strangest of all, you calm my very soul. It’s as if it knows that it’s you.

“I don’t know if you still want me,” Cinder swallowed, “after all that I’ve done. But please believe me when I say that I do not love Carswell— he is my dear friend and nothing more— and he does not love me in return. Not in this life.” She looked down at her child— their child— and smiled wistfully. “But if you do still wish to be with me, if your heart can still love me in spite of my most grievous offenses, then I will run away with you once more.” She grinned at this, the way one did when a happy memory was stirred in their conscience.

“You… You want me?” Kai asked, breathless.

Cinder looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I will always want you, Kai. No matter the time or place, I will always desire you to be by my side. Always.”

Kai watched her, his eyes searching hers for any falsities; he found none. Slowly, a smile spread across his face.

They were staring at one another, eyes that had not gazed upon the other in far too long. They were poisoned souls standing before their long sought-after cure. But now that they had found one another, neither knew what to do.

Hesitantly, Kai stood and walked over to the other side of the table. He sat close enough to touch her, though he did not. He simply stared at her, wordlessly, and she stared back.

“Kai,” Cinder whispered, breathless. She still held the infant in her arms, but he had fallen fast asleep. “Kai, I–”

“I know,” he chuckled, leaning in close to her. They were both inclining toward the other, as if through a magnetic pull. He could feel her breath as their faces rested inches apart. Neither moved in, both too scared of what would happen next.

Then Cinder muttered his name, and Kai closed the gap between them.

She let out a little gasp, as if surprised. But she kissed him back, and it was as if she had never left him— as if the past year had not happened, and they had been together all the while. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, his fingers brushing back stray strands of hair.

They broke apart, both flushed but smiling all the same. Kai couldn’t stop staring at her, and reveling in the fact that he had found her. They were together once more. She wanted him.

After a time of shared smiles and conversations about the other’s universe, Cinder asked Kai if he wanted to hold the child, and he accepted happily. And when the baby rested in his arms, tears slipped from his eyes as love overtook his soul. He’d thought about him and Cinder having kids many times during their marriage, though they’d never quite been ready for it. It didn’t even matter that this child belonged to the Kai of this world and not to him— he loved him all the same.

They made plans for what they would do— how they would leave this place and start a new life together. Cinder would pack her belongings and they would take a train to the west. She had all her money from her dowry, and the Prince estates had been left in her name after the deaths of both Prince men.

When they parted, it was a sweet farewell, filled with promises to see the other soon, for they would never abandon the other again.

***

Kai leaned back into the couch, careful not to disturb baby Rikan as he slept. He adored the feeling of holding the small child in his arms and his small stirrings in his sleep. Even the little sounds he made caused for his heart to melt.

“Hey Kai,” Cinder called, walking into the room. He shushed her, nodding his head down toward the sleeping baby, though there wasn’t much worry. Rikan was a heavy sleeper. “Oh, sorry, Ri,” she whispered, tip-toeing over to the pair of them and settling herself down beside Kai.

She grabbed a quilt from beside the couch and laid it over hers and Kai’s laps. Then she settled her head on Kai’s shoulder. She reached her hand up to rest under Kai’s, smiling as she looked down at their baby.

They had left Georgia the same day that they had met one another there, randomly deciding to take the train to Colorado. It had been a somewhat frightening journey, with both of them worrying whether or not someone would come after them, but so far, no one had. They’d been settled into their apartment for over three weeks, happy and together at last.

There were still many things that they both didn’t understand, about one another and the situation. But at the end of the day, they were Cinder and Kai— even if Cinder was still confused about the fact that Kai’s last name was Crown and not Prince, though she did claim it was growing on her.

“I love this,” Cinder said, brushing the black tufts of Rikan’s hair. “It feels right, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“For so long I felt a dreadful emptiness within me, and while there’s still a sadness for what I’ve lost, it's not as great. It’s manageable.”

“I know what you mean.” Kai kissed the top of her head. “We’re different, but the same at the same time. It’s different, but it’s also… just us. We’re still us.”

“We’re still us,” Cinder echoed, letting out a sigh.

There were so many things in Kai’s life that didn’t make sense, but it had been that way even before he’d entered into an alternate universe. He hadn’t understood why Thorne had proclaimed his love for Cinder, or why Chandler Blackburn hadn’t been able to love his daughter. Even his own crushing grief had been confusing at times. And while this world was different in customs and manners and the ways in which society functioned, none of that mattered. For so long as he was with Cinder, all of it was okay.

“I love you,” Kai whispered.

“And I love you,” Cinder said. “And I’ll love you so long as my soul survives, for you’re the only one, Kai. You’re the only one I shall ever truly love.”

“And you are the only one for me as well.” Kai grinned. “And I will love you for forever and ever. No," Kai said, his eyes searching hers and seeing only Cinder. "I will love you until forever ends.”

#crack fic #unsinkable au #unsinkable #the echo of silence #the time it takes to fall #salt warrior stories

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dreamties · 4 years ago

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Amanda Young W/ a Fem!S/O Who’s An Apprentice

A/n- Another wonderful anon wanted Amanda with a s/o that was also an apprentice for John! I’ve gotta say, this was such an intriguing concept to work with- so thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to write it. 🥺

Also! requests are open, rules and characters are pinned at the top of my blog. :)

T/W- Mentions of s*lf-h*rm (I can add more/other warnings if needed! )

it takes a while for her to warm up to you, and your relationship is a little rocky at first.

since you both are apprentices for Jigsaw- or John Kramer- she see’s you mostly as competition. she gets pretty jealous of you.

she started a little bit before you, so her relationship with John has already been built up a bit. you arrive to help out shortly after your first test.

she’s seeking attention and love and appreciation from John, through all the work that she does for him.

she gets so upset when he praises you for something, she feels so unworthy- but at the end of the day, it fuels her to want to be better and work harder.

she’s into girls, so lesbian or bi, but all of her experiences so far have been with men. a part of her did really like you at first, but she wasn’t able to identify those feelings right away.

one of the first times your alone with her, cleaning up after a game- she opens up about her bitter feelings towards you. your the first time she has acknowledged her female crushes before(still hasn’t told you yet- but she’s getting there!!)

“I don’t want to replace you,” you sigh, “You’re so smart and capable on your own, Amanda. I know you could do it by yourself. But- I want to do it together.”

she’s just so in awe over you

you start helping each other out more, giving little tips and discussing ideas. You work on new traps and repair old ones with her.

through this time together, she eventually opens up about some of her past- since she feels like she can trust you. You’ve shown her this kindness and acceptance that not even Kramer had given to her- or could give to her.

she tells you about her previous experiences with guys(she hasn’t been with very nice people- it makes you feel vary sad hearing about this), and says sometimes when she’s too stressed and hopeless that she cuts.

you’re still used to whatever your relationship is with her, so you offer your arms out, asking if it would be alright to hold her. she stares sort of wide-eyed, seemingly caught off guard. she gently nods, feeling hesitant to lean into your touch at first. it’s all very new to both of you.

you give her a few words of affirmation, just to let her know that ‘hey, sorry you feel like this- I’m here to listen though.’

When it comes to Amanda’s first time being in charge of the entire set-up without Kramer’s help- Amanda asks you to do it with her. not that she wasn’t ready, but she liked having you there...sort of her partner in crime.

you act as a moral guide for her- or, as much as you can considering your job.

In the movies, Amanda makes a lot of choices that make it impossible for anyone to survive the game. You help to persuade her otherwise. like in the first game she orchestrates, she considered welding the door shut- but you softly argued that the whole point of all this was to give these people a second chance. like Kramer had done for you and Amanda.

you end up spending a lot of late nights with her. with getting the people for the games, and designing & fixing, and lots and lots of planning.

You’d been working together in Kramer’s workshop, finally realizing the two of you should head home. You go with Amanda, wanting to make sure she got home in one piece, but felt all too tired when you arrived. she notices, inviting you in.

it’s the first time you’ve been in her apartment. both nestled into the couch.

you bare your soul to her like she did all that time ago, and her response mimics yours. you lay your head against her chest, allowing her to cautiously wrap you in a hug.

it must of have been some sort of heat of the moment, type of thing. but the warmth that you could feel as your otherwise cold bodies meld together, made you smile ear to ear, whispering, “I love you.”

she’s so quiet, and all you can hear is her soft breathing- so at least you knew she was still there.

she eventually replies, “I love you, too.”

you fall sleep in her arms. the next time you’re alone together, she says that you’re her first girlfriend- you remind her it’s okay to be nervous, but that she doesn’t have to be. she’s in good hands.

a few other fun things:

giving her good luck kisses before a night of hard work(setting up games/traps, and all that...)

cleaning your masks afterwards. occasionally swapping masks- it’s kind of like when partners share clothes, except way more personal. you would never let anyone even touch your mask before, so it’s always a surprise to Kramer when he’s you dawned in a pig mask and Amanda in a (insert favorite farm animal) mask.

It makes you giggle in delight seeing your gf in your mask. every. single. time.

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bearsinpotatosacks · 4 years ago

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Maybe Death is Just Going Home- A Spones Fic

The wind was soft on the back of his neck. Stroking the weak skin that was exposed. Sunrise was still underway, the blues and yellows and greens all mixing together.

His garden was thriving under the care of his yard workers, who he'd employed to do the tough work his brittle body couldn't take anymore. The pond near the fence was full of lily pads and flowers, fish showing their faces occasionally. Flowers poked their heads up to the sky from the raised flower beds. A wind chime jingled somewhere to his right.

He remembered a time when he didn't let himself enjoy these things. The song of a bird or the way a flower bloomed. It was the days of being a strict Vulcan, of denying the emotions that drove his species to pure logic and repression, of pushing his human half to the point of breaking with every breath.

His friends helped him cultivate these sides of himself. Jim through kind words. Leonard with initial harsh behaviour, that he realised was his affection and watched it melt into true care and love.

His heart panged at the thought of them, a pain he rarely let himself indulge in. There was little chance of seeing them again. Who knew how much time had passed for them? How old they'd be if he found a way to return home, an impossible feat, or if they'd even be alive?

There was even less of a chance of seeing Jim again. His research into finding him again had failed, even with the alternate technology he had at his disposal. There was no way to cheat death, especially one that happened in another world. They'd already done so with him and he didn't think it would be allowed a second time, or a third if you counted this universe's Jim.

He opened his eyes again. Meditation was meant to clear his head. But everything was too muddled lately to sort. He could feel the end coming.

The skyline far away melded into the sky. Ships left and arrived from ports. Cars and trains with families all on their separated journeys. Infinite possibilities.

He turned his gaze to the grass springing up and spreading out away from the glass of the city. The growing season was coming. Flowers blooming, the sun on his face. Storms were frequenting the skies more often, the grounds soft and supple from the rain.

He closed his eyes and smiled to himself as he felt the ache deep in his bones. Today was a good day to die.

"How old are you now?" A familiar voice pricked his ears. "And yet you can still cross your legs so wound up like that without pain?"

He opened his eyes. "Leonard." His husband.

"Who else is it gonna be?"

He raised an eyebrow and took in what was most likely a hallucination. Leonard's hair was grey and hands worn, circa their encounter with the Klingons just before the Enterprise was decommissioned. Just before Jim went missing.

His red uniform was smooth, unwrinkled against his body. A look of mischief filled his eyes, a rare sight but a welcome one. He'd accept anything after all the years.

"You do realise that this isn't real, and therefore there is no point in conversing with you,"

Leonard feigned hurt with a hand on his heart, "I came here to give you a peaceful send-off and here I am being insulted by the man I call my husband,"

"The statistical probability of seeing you as a hallucination, in a much younger state than I left you in, is impossible, "

"We have done many impossible things over the years, and besides, the last time I knew, you don't have conversations with hallucinations," He crossed his arms and sat on the wall to a raised flower bed.

"What is your suggestion then?"

"I'm an angel, sent from God, to convince you to come along and die,"

"There are two faults with your proposal,"

"Two?"

"Yes, two," He said. "That is a very Christian focused theory, Leonard, and as you know my belief systems are of Surak's teachings and Judaism,"

"Last time I checked, Christians and Jews have an overlap in a religious book, our old testament, your Torah,"

Spock nodded.

"And ain't the story of Abraham in there, where he was told by God he was gonna have a kid of his own,"

"Yes, your point being?"

"And ain't the Exodus story, the one o' Moses, have God showing themselves to Moses to convince him to free the Jews,"

"These are theologically correct, Leonard, but I am still waiting for a point," He smiled again, he missed their debates.

"If those events happened in our religious books then what's saying it ain't happening right now, bringing me to you,"

"I didn't know you believed these tales so strongly, from what I believe these tales are to learn lessons from, not to take any literal meaning. And both of your examples were God showing themselves, and we both know you are not God," He looked at him. "Therefore you're not here."

"My second point was that I am ready to die, and God, being all-seeing, would know that,"

Leonard got off the wall. The look of mischief replaced by concern and love. Death had always been a sensitive subject for him. One of the most common disagreements was regarding Spock's longer lifespan. And it didn't matter how many times he told him that they could have a relationship just like any other, he knew he'd never let the subject go.

"I do have one more question," Spock continued.

"What?"

"Your belief in angels, does it encompass the idea of the dead becoming them if they have lived good lives?"

The air wavered between them as their emotions poured into it. He thought they were both glad they knew some things without words.

"Yes,"

"Then that means that to get to me you must have died, which is counterintuitive to your plan of convincing me to die,"

"Why?"

He shuddered, his eyes filling with tears as his hands shook. "Why? Why do you think the knowledge that you died alone, without seeing me or having me by your side as you left this world, would ease me into death?"

The image of a fragile Leonard, delirious from pain medication, calling for him with his dying breaths flashed to the forefront of his mind. He shook his head to rid himself of it but only made it clearer as the silence dragged on.

Leonard's face broke into a slight smile to ease him. He stepped towards him and reached his hands out to him.

"I knew you'd say something like that, so I want you to know I was at peace," He said. "After one hundred and eighty-three years, Spock, I was very fulfilled and welcomed it, just like your doing now,"

Their eyes locked and words ceased. Spock's head cleared, like all he needed was a conversation with him to clear up all the metaphorical mud in his head.

"Come home to me, Spock,"

And he did. Standing up from his position on the terrace and fitting perfectly into his arms like he always did.

His hands traced the stubble on his chin as Leonard carded a hand through his hair, now black again due to his soul matching the time period. Their lips touched in a simple kiss and everything felt complete.

The sunrise dissolved away with the sounds of spring. And Spock was home once again in Leonard's arms.

And that's it! I got inspired by that scene in Beyond where AOS Spock saw a picture of the original crew and my angsty bittersweet brain got this question. How did Spock Prime die and how can I make that queer and peaceful?

I hope you enjoyed this, I enjoyed writing this!

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groovybaybee · 4 years ago

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Greener - I

cw: mentions of abuse (not this chapter and nothing too intense but better safe than sorry) also alcohol consumption

(6k)

Spago, 7pm, reservation under my name, have fun saucy xxx

Oh, Lucy. Lovely, wonderful, maddening Lucy. Not only would she select my date for the evening, she, of course, would make a decision about when and where.

In all honesty, I do not mind. I would gladly allow that girl to run my life, she pretty much has made all the big decisions for me anyway. Lucy had been the one who forced me to enter our school’s talent show and sing in public for the first time. I lost hard, unable to compete with Anthony Piaz’s flaming diabolo tricks, but I was grateful to her, nonetheless. Lucy was also the one who made me move out to Los Angeles with her, telling me we needed to be with the stars if we wanted to be like them. It might sound cheesy, but that girl can be very persuasive when she wants to be. Since we were teenagers, she told me all about how we were going to make it big, I would be a singer and she would produce all my music.

Lucy has always been a dreamer, but she is the most dedicated and ambitious person I know, plotting out every detail of every day to make sure she could get to where she wanted to be. Her and I had understood that we could not just rock up in America and instantly start working for record labels. We would spend hours in her room, writing and producing songs every weekend, sending them to local and national radio stations, record labels, anyone we could think of.

Then one day, the universe fell into place. Our song, Penny, started to gain some traction. I will never forget the day we heard our song played on the radio for the first time. I never could forget it with the video of the two of us screaming and crying and laughing and hugging being sent to my phone every time I get frustrated.

‘They never gave up, and neither will we’

Luce has always been good like that, putting things in perspective when I start spiralling out.

Truthfully, Lucy has always been a bit of a hero to me. The voice of reason, even when I did not want to hear it. I trust her with my life. So, when I was offered a contract with a record label, I had insisted that she aid in the production, knowing that once the world could see her talent there would be no stopping her. And there never has been. Though we still work together on projects and tracks wherever we can, both of us have been blessed with opportunities to work with some of our idols in the music industry. However, it still feels the most special when it is just her and me working together.

Knowing that she always has my best interests at heart, agreeing to be set up on a blind date by her was easy. It was only afterwards that the doubts had started to creep in. Of course, Lucy knows me well, probably better than anyone, and so her choice of date for me would undoubtedly be my type. I know that they will be charming and funny and most likely have a smile that makes me want to swat them directly in the face for being so cute. However, it would be impossible for her to know the other person so well, so me showing up may not be what they had hoped for.

They could want to meet someone girly, polished, calm. While I can be those things sometimes, pretending to be anyone but myself would only lead down an unfortunate and embarrassing path in the long run. This self-assuredness, in theory, is lovely, but does not stop the nagging feeling in my stomach that whoever I am meeting at the restaurant will not be pleased to see me.

Trying my best to shake this thought, I get ready for my date. Landing on a simple black dress (knowing my tendencies to spill anything in my grasp), partnering it with a silver chain necklace, a few matching rings, and some thickly heeled silver boots. I put on a touch of makeup, style my hair, and spritz myself with perfume before grabbing a coat, stuffing the pockets with my necessities, and getting in the Uber I had pre-emptively ordered. I am going to be early but that suits me just fine.

Arriving at the restaurant, nestled beside Rodeo Drive, I thank the driver and exit the car. Spago is far too fancy for me to feel fully comfortable, a small part of myself always believing that my life is some sort of coma dream and one day I would wake up back home, older and having done nothing with my life. Despite my instinct to run and feign illness, I enter the restaurant and tell the matre d’ Lucy’s name. He gives me a pleasant smile and leads me through the bustling restaurant to an empty table on the patio outside. Thanking him, I seat myself at the table beside a sheltered, freestanding fireplace, taking a second to appreciate the warmth of the toasting embers against the slight breeze of the evening under the dwindling sun.

Looking out to the chair across from me, panic and excitement swirl around in my stomach. Wondering what they will be like and whether we will get on has me desperately searching around the quiet outside space for anyone who works here to urge them for a glass of wine. I manage to locate someone, but the thought instantly leaves my mind when I notice a person trailing behind them. They head straight in my direction and my head snaps back to the table, trying not to have their first impression of me be my crazy wine-hungry eyes. I take a deep breath, and a second to remember Lucy’s message: ‘have fun’.

Turning to meet my date as they stop at our table, a smile slips across my lips without my telling it to. Yep, Lucy definitely knows me. The man in front of me is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, but with an added dash of unreservedness, dressed in a black dress shirt, the collar of which pokes out over a baby blue suit jacket, trousers matching. My eyes land on his hand, ringed fingers clutching a bouquet of yellow roses. I cannot deny it, the sight sends a little zip of happiness through my body. Travelling upwards, I land on his face. And pause.

If this is a very elaborate prank, I have to give it up to Lucy. This is incredible. I remember her telling me that she was working with him on a track for his second album, but I would not have thought they were close enough to discuss love lives. If so, surely she would have snapped him up for herself. The amount of conversations we had spent discussing our celebrity crushes and he always popped up on both of our lists. There is no way this is happening. This just proves that I am, in fact, comatose.

“Hi,” he speaks with a tentative smile.

On the off chance that I am not in a simulation, I stand up and greet him, still unable to form words as he presses a kiss to each of my cheeks.

“Lucy said you liked yellow,” he says almost sounding nervous, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hand.

“I do,” I say softly, shaking my head to bring me back to reality while he is looking away from me. “They’re, uh, they’re beautiful.”

He hands me the flowers and my brain almost completely malfunctions, unable to comprehend that I am sat, on a date, with a man I have been fawning over from afar for over a year. Sure, I have always known of him, but something about him kicking off his solo career and dressing differently, acting differently, it was all just incredibly attractive. Something so sexy about his confidence. An opinion I had expressed to Lucy many times in varying degrees of enthusiasm, her use of the word ‘saucy’ in her text to me suddenly making a lot more sense.

“Thank you, really,” I say, looking up from the flowers to him, a full head taller than me. “Sorry, I’m being weird, Lucy just… is full of surprises,” I admit, meeting his gaze as he observes me cautiously. He must think I am crazy, or incredibly rude, most likely both.

“I’m Violet,” I quickly introduce myself and gesture for us to sit. He does, with a relieved smile which I mirror.

“Harry,” he says gently.

Duh.

Harry Styles. I am on a date with Harry Styles. The man I had admitted to wanting to let ‘break my heart and sex me back together’. Not one of my best lines, I will agree. And he is even better looking in person. His hair is kind of messy in a very put-together kind of way. His eyes are deep and their hold on me is strong. And his lips kink up at the edges, pulling joy out to his cheeks as he watches me, almost assessing me.

“Yeah, I’m actually a fan of your music,” I admit shyly, hoping that he finds it endearing rather than psychotic.

“Likewise. To be honest, I can’t believe I’m sat here with you,” he speaks deeply.

This has to be a prank. No way on Earth did Harry Styles, Harry Styles, just say that to me.

“I didn’t realise you and Lucy were so close,” I confess, allowing my confusion and curiosity to spill out of my mouth at lightning speed.

“Oh, yeah, first day we met it was like instant sibling rivalry, you know? Straight away bullying each other,” Harry explains with a low, breathy chuckle. God, even his laugh is sexy.

I will admit to being relieved to hear that their feelings for one another were strictly platonic, not wanting to step on Lucy’s toes even if she had been the one to set us up. Something about hearing this new information allows my most recent conversations with her to make a lot more sense, her being the one to let me explain in detail all the disgusting things I would let this man do to me while she just laughed. That sly devil.

“How long have you two known each other?” he asks, sipping at the glass of water on his side of the table.

“Oh, since we were kids, think our souls are melded at this point,” I tell him, earning a captivated smile that reaches up to his eyes. “Do you do this thing a lot?” I ask, fascinated as to how I ended up in this situation. When he looks at me blankly, I hurriedly add, “Blind dates?”

“Not really, only one other time and it was… interesting,” he says, eyes glazing over as his mind flashes back.

“Me neither,” I start, bringing his attention back to the present in hopes to prevent him from reliving whatever terrible memory I had just triggered, “I do have a very important question for you though,”

“What’s that?” he asks with a grin that matches the one creeping on to my face.

“Are you a wine person?” I ask, faking sincerity.

“Oh, yeah,” he nods, laughing at my intensity.

“Good, ten points to you,” I smirk as we both glance down at the drinks menus, after a moment of reflection I speak up, “Want to just get the cheapest? Don’t think my palette could tell the difference.”

Harry lets out a small laugh and agrees happily, ordering a bottle of chardonnay for the two of us when the waiter circles around to us. My mind begins to spiral as I watch Harry pour us each a glass, wondering how I ended up here, what I think of him, what he thinks of me. Brain almost about to short-circuit[AH1] , I cheers my glass with his and take a long sip of white wine, desperate for a touch of Dutch courage.

We sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, eyes locked as we drink in our surroundings, allowing the madness of the evening to sink in for our brains to process. There is a gentle smirk on each of our faces, enjoying the mischief of our mutual friend.

“I really loved the album by the way,” I confess to him, only to be rewarded with a bright and grateful smile.

“Thank you,” he says softly, an excited buzz coming from him as he shifts in his seat to lean his elbows on the table, chin resting on his interlaced knuckles. “I listen to The Lady Grey Project at least once a week,” he admits, and if I look closely (which I do) I can see a light rosy flush appearing on his cheeks.

At this point I reckon a rhinoceros could stampede into the restaurant and I would not bat an eyelid. Of course, he listens to my album regularly, this is a dream, in all honesty I am just shocked he does not have a tattoo of my face on his body somewhere. I say a silent prayer that I will be allowed to remain in whatever simulation I am in.

“You’re too kind,” I smirk, having to use my wine glass to hide as much of my blushing face from him.

“Can I ask where the Lady Grey name came from?” he asks curious about my stage-name, watching intently as I swallow and place my glass down. “Sorry if I’m being too nosy by the way, tell me to fuck off if you want,” he says, causing a light laugh to tumble from my lips.

He watches me with a soft gaze that makes me want to melt into a puddle underneath the table. Does he like me? No, he is probably just being polite.

Calm down crazy.

“Um, well, Lucy and I used to spend days in her room making music, and all we would eat was Cadbury’s Fingers and all we drank was Lady Grey tea, it was kind of our fuel you know? And then it just kind of stuck, and we used to joke about who Lady Grey was and I don’t know, I sort of idolised the character we created,” I explain as best I can.

“So, you became her?” Harry asks softly, his smile never faltering once while I spoke.

“Yeah, Lady Grey and Lucy Hind were going to take on the world together,” I say, looking down at the tablecloth, a slight feeling of embarrassment for oversharing my childhood dreams. It probably seemed so silly to him.

“And you are,” is all he says.

When I look up at him, his eyes are so gentle and comforting, and staring into them feels like stepping into a warm bath.

The waiter arrives back to our table to take our orders, preventing me from drooling over how idyllic this date is becoming. Harry apologises for the two of us, neither having even looked at the food menu yet, and asks for another minute. Eventually, we order our food and the conversation continues to flow easily, finding out about each other’s passions for not only music, but art in general, both discovering that the other loves to draw and paint despite having very minimal talent for it.

We talk about what we are working on, both giddy at gaining secret information about the other’s new projects. He whispers to me that he has a new album coming out at the end of the year, in return I tell him I have a small tour happening in a few months, a few intimate venues across the country. He tells me he would love to come to a show. I mentally let out a scream.

We discuss our hometowns throughout the main course, both hailing from the north of England, giggling over the surprising culture shock of living in LA. Conversation moves to talking about our families and still feeling homesick.

“I’ve been writing about home a lot recently,” I admit, finishing my second glass of wine, “I miss the colour green so much,” I laugh honestly, missing the miles and miles of fields and trees I could see from my family home.

“I get that completely,” he says, refilling my glass without me even having to ask, “I miss my little village and knowing everyone there. LA can feel a bit lonely at times,”

There is a pregnant pause, silence falling over the two of us as I give him a small nod, understanding wholly the feeling of moving across the world. It is scary and isolating and you really have to push through and commit to your work to ensure it was all worthwhile. However, that does not leave much room for forging any kind of relationship other than professional. Harry is right, it can be very lonely sometimes.

I find myself watching him, eyes a little bit softened by the wine and the evening light. Seeing his face flicker under the crackling firelight feels like I am seeing him for the first time, as though his features are completely new to me and I get to meet a whole new person. He really is breath-taking. Something about getting to know him allows me to see his personality in his physicality; patient eyes and dimples that deepen every time I nearly knock over my glass and insist that I am not drunk, that this is just how I am. Finding myself smiling while I watch him, I remind myself to act like a normal human being and sip at my wine.

But he watches me right back.

When desert rolls around, both of us are too full to appreciate anything fancy, sadly deciding to call it a night. After insisting that we split the bill, threatening to get his bank account details somehow and send him a direct deposit, we leave the table.

“Man, I shouldn’t have worn this dress, looks like I’m smuggling a watermelon,” I say, rubbing my bloated belly slightly as we walk through the restaurant, now significantly emptier than when I had arrived nearly three hours earlier.

“I like it,” Harry tells me, biting back a smirk, “Wrote a song about watermelons, actually,”

“Really? You’ll have to let me hear it sometime,” I say, thanking him as he holds the door open for me to walk through.

“Do you, uh, do you need a lift home?” Harry asks once we are outside, wrapping our jackets a little tighter around ourselves in the early autumn air. I pause to look at him and assess the sincerity of his offer. When he looks at me with nothing but kindness and caution, I nod, finding his trepidation incredibly endearing.

“That would be great, thank you,” I say softly, failing to mention that I would say yes to any offer he made so long as it meant I could spend longer getting to know him.

“Cool!” he says with so much enthusiasm that I have to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from smiling too big, utterly smitten with him. Harry clears his throat and pulls out his phone, calling his driver to come and pick us up. “He’ll be five minutes,” his voice is back to its low rumble when he turns to me, a light flush spread across his cheekbones. I pretend not to notice, instead fixing my attention to the roses in my hand.

“I’ve had a really nice time,” I tell him, hoping that in showing some vulnerability it will ease his embarrassment. It works. As I look up at him, he meets my gaze and smiles down at me gently.

“Me too. I think you’re really cool to be around,” he says tenderly, taking a step closer to me so that he is less than an arm’s length away. “More than exceeded my expectations for tonight,” he teases.

“I think part of me still thinks this is a prank,” I admit, breathing a laugh as I find myself gravitating closer to Harry, silently praying that he will kiss me.

“I know, I was listening to Penny on the way here to keep me sane,” his voice has dropped to just above a whisper, his face less than a foot from mine.

“As if,” I laugh incredulously, finding myself stepping back slightly so I do not deafen him.

“I was!” he defends with a chuckle, “I love that song,”

“Sorry,” I breathe, “I just didn’t think anyone really listened to it, except maybe my parents,”

“It was the first song of yours I ever heard,” he says, closing the gap between us again, “Thought how talented you were, even wanted to cover it.”

Back into the simulation you go.

“Wanna make sweet music together?” I tease, my voice a little low and breathy as the space between us rapidly reduces.

Harry exhales a chuckle, eyes flitting between my own and my lips.

He is fully going to kiss you.

Or at least he would, if that had not been the moment Harry’s driver decides to pull up to the curb, startling us both. Gaze fixed to the ground to hide my certainly bright pink cheeks, I shuffle into the car when Harry opens the door for me, sliding in shortly afterwards.

“Where to?” Harry asks, clearing his throat slightly.

I tell him my address, watching as he and his driver share a small nod before we set off.

The first few minutes of the ride are, I will admit, awkward. The only sound to be heard is the crinkling of the paper surrounding my flowers, my hands fidgeting nervously.

He was going to kiss me. He totally would have kissed me if we were alone for just one more moment.

An assertive person would kiss him now.

Would he want that? Would I want that? For our first kiss to be in the back of his car as we drove through my neighbourhood. I’m not so sure. Harry feels special, like he deserves a bit more romance than that.

I continue to fiddle with the paper in my lap.

“What’s your favourite flower?” I ask curiously, eyes fixating on the bright yellow petals.

“Quite like apple blossoms,” he tells me. His voice is soft, and I can tell his head is turned to look directly at me.

“See, I never would have guessed that.” I confess. Upon hearing him breathe a laugh, I follow it up with a mirrored tone, “What? You’re a mysterious dude.”

“Very mysterious,” he jokes as I look back up at him. There is a warmth in his eyes as they shimmer with laughter. It is almost as though the small amount of time focussing on something other than him has erased all memory of his face. Suddenly, excitement courses through my body. His stupid, happy face making my stomach squeeze itself.

“A real enigma,” I smirk after gathering myself.

There is silence again in the car, our eyes softly locked on the other’s, even as we pull up beside my house.

“This is me,” my voice is barely louder than a whisper.

“I’ll walk you,” Harry says, our gaze still unmoved.

For a moment, my mind drifts to Harry’s driver. I wonder what he makes of us sitting in the back of his car despite reaching our destination. Perhaps he thinks it is sweet, two kids still so nervous enough around one another that we both refuse to make a move. Maybe he thinks we are crazy and should just get out of the car like normal people would.

I nod my head slightly, more so trying to encourage myself to get moving rather than Harry. In all honesty, I would love little more than to just sit here and look at him, to feel whatever tension there is between us for a moment longer. But I steal myself away from that thought and open the car door.

Harry, ever the gentleman, sees me to my front door. It is a little old-fashioned but incredibly charming, nonetheless. I turn to face him once we reach the doorstep, craning my neck a little to meet his eyes.

My gaze lingers a moment on his lips, and I wonder if I should kiss him. Or would he not like that? He seems like he would not be opposed to a woman making the first move, but he is also the type to open doors and walk people to their homes. What if he wants to be the one to initiate? I doubt he would find me kissing him to be emasculating, but what if he recoiled at the thought? Maybe I shouldn’t kiss him. Maybe I should invite him inside. I will admit, the idea of ending the night with him sounds idyllic, but what if that gives the wrong impression. What if he is the type of guy who cares about a woman’s sexual habits? I never would have him pegged for that sort of person, but you never know.

Nerves and paranoia form a whirlpool in my brain, sucking me in until I am so overwhelmed that all I can physically do is stare at him, trying not to allow my eyes to widen too far in fear of looking like a maniac.

He looks down at me with a gentle gaze, his right hand lifting and fingertips gently grazing the side of my left hand. His thumb brushes across my wrists, his eyes flitting across my face until I am convinced that he has stopped on my lips. The palpable energy from outside the restaurant returns.

“Can I—” Harry starts but I interrupt him.

“Yes,” I say hurriedly, my heart beating a little louder in my chest at the thought of his lips against mine.

Thank goodness he’s making the first move. If it were up to you, you would be standing here for days.

“Great,” he smiles broadly, quickly retracting his hand from mine and reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, “Lets make music sometime.”

Harry hands me his unlocked phone.

You absolute fucking idiot, V.

I quickly input my phone number and hand it back to him with a small smile.

“Great,” he grins, part of me hating how adorable he is, the majority simply hating how dim-witted I am.

He wasn’t trying to kiss you.

“Hang out again soon?” he asks brightly.

I just nod and return a polite smile. He beams down at me before bidding me goodnight and walking back to his car.

As quick as physically possible, I unlock my front door, dash inside and shut the door behind me.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

I sink to the floor, back pressed to the door. He wants to work together. While that notion alone would have had me fainting before tonight, I cannot help but feel a little disheartened to have misread the situation.

He didn’t want to kiss you.

My mind quickly scans through the whole evening, wonder at which event I began to misinterpret the signals. Maybe he was going to give me a hug outside the restaurant. Maybe he actually was going to kiss me, but then I laughed in his face and stepped away from him. Did I put him off me that quickly?

Pulling myself off the floor, I put the flowers in a mug of water, telling myself I will deal with them tomorrow once I am over the embarrassment.

* * *

I barely sleep, tossing and turning and reliving every stupid detail and mistake I undoubtedly made.

“You absolute cow!” I shout with a laugh when I spot Lucy walking towards me.

She just laughs along with me, a slight bashful blush arising in her cheeks as she steps closer to me.

I had text her when I got home last night, asking her to meet me first thing and she had agreed. Meeting at the dog park between our houses had been my idea, desperate to see her new Dalmatian puppy, Pip. I had arrived early, pre-emptively getting Lucy and I lattes, knowing fully well that no matter what time I got there I would still beat her by at least ten minutes.

“Thanks, gorgeous,” Lucy greets, taking the coffee I had extended to her.

“Hello, sweetpea,” I say in a higher pitch than my natural tone, crouching to welcome the excited dog. Pip wags her tail aggressively, desperately trying to lick my face. I giggle as my face scrunches at all the attention she is giving me, “I know, I know, it’s been a whole two days since I saw you, how could I neglect you like that?”

“She pissed on my shoes. Right little dickhead,” Lucy muses as I stand up, giving the pup one last scratch behind the ears. My eyes drop to her feet as we begin to walk through the park. “Not these ones, idiot,” she laughs.

“Don’t call me an idiot, I have a bone to pick with you,” I reply, trying my very hardest to chastise her but just giggling through it, faking sincerity always having been difficult for me, “What was it you told me? ‘Its just a date, no biggie’?”

“Something like that,” she mumbles, feigning shame but smirking as she looks at the ground.

“Harry Styles,” I mock, “Harry fucking Styles. You could have warned me, mate! I thought about him in the shower before dinner, thought I must have slipped and bumped my head when he rocked up,”

Lucy laughs as continue through the park, walking out on to the open expanse of the field. Pip excitedly yaps at the dogs playing in the distance, a little too young to join them just yet. We walk in bemused silence for a moment until we find a bench and take seat on it, sipping intermittently at our cooled down coffees.

“How was it then? Complete disaster or did you hold it together?” Lucy asks.

“Well, I thought I was holding it together, we were even kind of flirty,” I begin. Remembering last night stirs up excitement in my stomach, contrasting my skin crawling with embarrassment, “But he never kissed me. He walked me to my door, got me to give him my number and left,”

Luce nods, letting me give her the gist of the previous night, not pushing for more information as I bounce one of my legs anxiously. “He got your number though?” She offers, always looking on the bright side.

“Yeah, because he wants to make music together,” I say, a small smirk interrupting my words.

“Make music or make music?” She teases, wiggling her eyebrows dramatically.

“I don’t know!” I laugh, giving her a gentle push when she keeps leaning closer to me and putting her creepy moving eyebrows in my eyeline, “We complimented each other and stuff, and it became a bit of a joke but now I’m worried he was serious and I just made a fool out of myself… I did have half a bottle of wine,” my tone more serious now.

“One, you’re a delight when you drink. Two, I bet Harry was such a fucking flirt, ‘Oh yeah, baby, lets make symphonies with our bodies’,” I cannot help but crack a smile at her, surprisingly accurate, impression, “And three, even if you did misread things, it sounds like he would be up for working with you, and if I remember correctly, you said you’d give your left kidney to sing a duet with him,”

“I’m never drinking sambuca again,” I mutter, shuddering at the memory of that night, drunkenly screaming as Sweet Creature played over the speakers of the bar.

“I say text him,” Lucy shrugs as if the solution is so obvious that she cannot understand why the two of us are even having this conversation.

“Ah,” I breath, “That’s another thing. I was a bit distracted by the whole ‘not wanting to kiss me’ thing that I forgot to ask for his number.”

“Idiot,” Lucy giggles, picking up Pip as she paws at her leg and setting her between the two of us on the bench, allowing me better access to pet her freely, “I’ll text it you,”

“I can’t text him out of the blue, won’t that look psycho?” I stress.

“No,” Lucy says, again so plainly it is as though she cannot believe she is explaining something so simple, “Pretty sure Harry likes confident people anyway.”

“Why would he want to date me then?” I mumble, eyes fixed on Pip’s as her mouth hangs open, tongue rolling out happily as she gets attention from the both of us.

“Maybe because you can throw it back like no one I’ve ever seen,” Lucy teases.

“Fucking hate sambuca,” I grumble half-heartedly.

The text from Lucy arrives on my phone a few hours later, just as I step out of the shower. I have to wipe a few droplets of water from the screen before it allows me to unlock it.

Don’t puss out x

Underneath is what I can only assume is Harry’s number. I stare at the white screen for a while, contemplating whether or not to text him. Should I? Luce said he liked confidence, and I wanted him to like me, or at least not think of me as some blob of flesh he sat through dinner with. What would I say? What possible message could I send that did not make me sound like a creep?

Hey it’s Violet. Lucy gave me your number, promise I didn’t ask for it

No, that sounds rude.

Hi, it’s Violet from last night. Lucy gave me your number, hope you don’t mind. I’d love to make sweet music with you

He could read that two ways. Either he would read it as me just wanting to work together, or that I wanted to see him with no clothes on. Neither option appeal despite both being shamefully accurate.

The condensation on my bathroom mirror has almost vanished by the time I set my phone back down. Desperate to go about my day without worrying, I head across the landing and into my bedroom.

Despite having lived here for well over a year, the Los Angeles heat never fails to stifle me, even as autumn creeps into view. The humidity seeps into my bare skin as I flop back on my bed, urgently searching for a reason to get back up and be proactive with the work I need to get done today. That in itself should be reason enough, but the temperature in my room seems to counter any sensible thoughts in my brain. So, I let my eyes close for a moment.

However, Lucy’s words keep circling around in my mind.

‘Don’t puss out’

That is what I always do. Deciding to grow a backbone, I stand up and march back into the bathroom to pick up my phone. I quickly unlock it, ignoring the notifications on my lock screen, assuming its just my manager prompting me to get my act together. I quickly copy the phone number from Lucy and make a contact for Harry, set on typing a message to him and pressing send before I can overthink how keen I will most likely come across.

You are keen.

Selecting his contact, my phone takes me to a chat with him, however, it is not blank like I had expected. Instead, there is a white bubble of text, a smaller bubble beneath it, both timestamped seven minutes ago.

I know films and tv shows always say you should wait at least three days before messaging but I reckon it’s all bollocks. I had a really good time last night and would love to hang out again. I understand if this seems a bit eager so I’ll leave it up to you. Whatever you fancy I’m up for – Harry

Also I don’t know why I signed that off like it’s an email but I’m going to stick with it so I seem confident – Harry

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carrera-ffxiv · 4 years ago

Text

Drowning Sun (8.2)

Knock. Knock.

Hadriel paused at the door, expecting to hear some movement; expecting to hear something.

Knock ...Knock.

An eerie silence followed. A sigh escaped his lips; he adjusted the package at his side and leaned in to listen against the door.

Again, nothing.

A singular thud sounded, more muffled than the rest. Hadriel pushed open the door and released the broken handle; he removed his handkerchief from it and tucked it away in his vest before gently guiding the door shut. It remained slightly ajar from the damage he inflicted.

The apartment was dark. Fitting for a blind woman, but he felt something was off. “Dawn?” he called to her. “I just wanted to check up on you…”

His pricey leather shoes made dull clacks against the flooring. His gloved hand traced along his face and hair, catching his eyepatch; he removed it with a single smooth movement and tucked it into his pocket. A bright eye scanned the room.

Dawn sat slumped against the wall, her ears plugged with a white stethoscope, the golden chest-piece against her bosom. She was convinced she could hear it; between the beats of her heart she could hear it slither in her chest. Feel it. Dawn’s hand raked through her hair and clutched a handful. Anxiety was the only thing that tethered her fraying sanity to that moment in reality. She thought she could hear dull thuds in the background but the thought quickly faded along a torrent of stressors that drowned her consciousness. She felt like she was losing parts of herself faster than she could retain- as if sand slipping through her fingers.

There she was, in between oddly shaped pillows and piles of books, holding something close to her chest. “Dawn…?” he called to her again. Her hair was frazzled and she seemed dazed, afraid even. Waiting for something.

Her heart beat a hundred malms a minute.

His gaze pierced deeper and confirmed what he knew, a bitter grimace fleetingly wearing on his features. This was his fault, wasn’t it? He had sent her on the mission that took her sight. He had given her that soul crystal which corrupted her aether. He had unintentionally forced her into this position. While moving pieces on the chess board he had forgotten about a single pawn ...and now this was the result: An unnecessary sacrifice.

“Hadriel…” she seethed in a brief moment of clarity. Did she recognize his voice? Or perhaps it was something else within her that recognized him. Either way, it didn’t matter. Carrera’s words lasted with her- ‘As for whose plan… who gave you the stone?’ Was her current predicament: her unraveling, the result of this man’s intent? She felt her skin burn as the soulstone along her chest brightened. She plucked the stethoscope from her ears and placed it carefully on top of a book before darting forward to strike him.

A wild but oddly accurate blow. Hadriel stepped to one side to avoid it. She adjusted and adapted to his movement- was she hearing his subtle steps? Strike after strike, he would adjust his shoulder to move out of the way, then tilt his head. He turned and ducked underneath before returning to his full height again. He could read her movement like an open book as he saw the aether shift between her arms and legs. He would smoothly guide her forearm away from his persons with a gentle touch, causing her to miss.

Her breath grew more desperate and ragged as she kept at it. Still, he would either step aside or swat at her attempts with a hand. Her movement was practiced and intentional, not that of a novice. Strangely enough, it felt easier to counter since he could predict the movements as opposed to the wild flailings of an amateur. Still, it was odd that she moved the way she did before it dawned on him. She was fighting much like Adala did without her greatsword- with practiced movement and intuition. Countless times he had watched her spar with Rina. Fast, experienced, and predictably unpredictable.

She grew tired of his evasiveness; bladed edges of light sparked from her fists as she redoubled her efforts.

A quick and hard jab found Dawn’s diaphragm, knocking the wind from her lungs. She fell to her knees and coughed, but there was no air to let loose. She choked and struggled to try to breathe in air but her throat would not take any in.

“This isn’t you Dawn… breathe. Focus. Find yourself. Don’t lose track of who you are. I believe in you.”

He often told people what he thought they needed, not what he had calculated in his mind. His left hand grasped the hilt of his blade tightly. Mira had asked him to help her, and he had done what he thought was best.

She retched. Then she heaved. She did her best to inflate her lungs again as tears continued to stream down her face. Dawn tried to focus but his voice seemed so far away. All she could feel was an unbridled fury held within the core of her being. She felt a gentle guiding hand along her chin, lifting her face. A dull ache struck her left eye as she could feel it being pried from her skull. The sound of metal humming sharply followed by immeasurable pain deep in her head.

Anguish swelled in her lungs and fled from her dry throat. Agony gripped her like a vice, with each cruel beat of her throbbing heart sending wave upon wave of madness into the void that was once her eye; she moved to shield her injury long after it was too late. As blood dripped from her shaking fingers, Dawn yielded to the torment as her body contorted and convulsed along the floor; Her head felt like it was about to burst like a cracked egg. Just a few paces away Hadriel tore into the small package he kept tucked beneath his arm and twisted the top of the revealed jar open. The contents sloshed as he lifted her replacement within his grasp; the dull, lifeless, salvaged eye of his friend, Adala. With a twist of his wrist the jar and the gelatin liquid within went scattering across the floor, and with one swift motion Hadriel grabbed the panicking woman by the wrist and hoisted her onto her feet.

She felt a foreign object- wet, soft, and cold where her eye should be. She collapsed into a sitting slump as he released her, the pain still assaulting every sense she had.

His dry voice only continued to boil her blood as she tried to focus on what was happening, “You want to get better. It’s up to you. Remember the people who care about you. Your friends. Your family. Heal your eye. I’ve severed the nerve, if you don’t use your magic you’ll remain broken.”

None of it made sense to her. Why would he mutilate her further? Over months he had helped her to learn to live again, but now, why was he so cruel? She could only ponder these things as she desperately lit up her wound with a bright light. She felt the broken and torn tethers from her optic nerve melding into the lingering strings from the eye. They connected as the nerve endings mended and snapped together. Each connection sparked an indescribable sensation. Her right hand fell forward to catch herself from collapsing, her left cradled her face as beads of sweat rolled down her visage. She looked up to Hadriel, the glowing blue eye staring directly at him between her fingers.

“W-what is this? This...”

She saw millions of tiny, shimmering blue lights forming shapes before her. One such shape was the man in front of her. In the periphery of her vision she could see the plants and potions lit up, and even the lightest glow came from static objects around her. Books and even the floor maintained the residue of aether bleeding from the two of them. She was breathless again, but not from blunt force trauma this time. She witnessed brilliant lights forming his frame, the largest concentration of which rested in his heart. It made a sort of sense, it was the engine to his being and kept him alive. But one oddity failed to escape her notice; a comparable amount of aether was gathered within his left eye.

She continued to speak, “This… this is… I know whose eye this is.”

He shook his head, “I promised Mira I would help you.” his voice was quiet and forced.

“But,” she whined, “...Am I even myself anymore?” Her hands ran through her hair and intertwined behind her head. “I’m losing a piece of myself ...every. Day.”

“You’re not that same girl who walked in through our doors. You’re something else now. Whether you want to find out what that is, or stay here in the dark crying- that’s up to you. Life is never what we expect. And it hasn’t been fair to you, more than most. But, life ...is rarely ever fair.”

“It’s consuming me, who I am, what am I supposed to do when there’s nothing left?”

“Give up. Let go. Or, or you could hold onto the things that make you, you. Dawn, only you know who you truly are. Get up, wipe your tears, live your life. Find out who you are through all this. One step forward at a time. You don’t really have a choice. If you give up, then it all ends; I’ve already told you this before. You didn’t give up when you lost your sight, don’t give up now because you have to fight for your survival. Win, overcome, and stay with us.”

She looked over to her side. She could see her own residual aether on the stethoscope she placed.

“Fight to control. That’s all this is. That amulet is aether. That thing inside your chest is composed of aether. You have the finest aether manipulation I’ve ever seen, you can do this, if you let yourself. If you stop being afraid of what could be, afraid of what you might lose.” he kneeled down to her level. “Think instead of what you might gain.”

She grabbed for the scope and clutched at it against her bosom. “I’ll, ...I’ll try… I’m trying.”

“Don’t give up. Mira’s been worried about you. That’s all I can ask.” he sighed a bit, “Take a potion and get some rest. You’ll need it.”

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shijiujun · 4 years ago

Note

I LOVE your chuyao fics. I was wondering if you can write something about them being soulmates with soul marks. Another prompt is chuyao being soulmates but was never able to be together for different reasons, but in this lifetime, this is their chance. Time after Time. Life after Life. Their souls yearning to be together. LOVE you for sharing your fics.

Heya! Oh my god, this took FOREVER, I think about 3 months plus, but here it is, it’s a shorter one but ooof it’s my first soulmate/soulmark/reincarnation fic!

Summary: Lu Yao dies at the grand old age of 72 seated in his rocking chair, his hand clutching onto a photo of him and Chusheng, a man who died nearly 40 years ago without even saying goodbye to him. A man who had his soul mark, but didn’t tell him.

He remembers Qiao Chusheng fully when he sees him in what seems to be their next life the moment he lays his eyes on him.

“You’re the new roommate then?” asks Chusheng, standing at the door with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “Come on in.”

Warnings: Major character deaths (temporary!!!)

⬇⬇⬇

1965

An almost faded photo of him and Chusheng - the only one Lu Yao has - sits on the table next to a cup of steaming tea. Leaning into his rocking chair which is lined with thick fur to keep him warm in the dead of winter, Lu Yao reaches out with shaking hands to slide it over to him.

They were so young then, Chusheng in that lovely, gorgeous navy blue three-piece suit and himself in that red corduroy jacket and pants, a photo Youning took when they were not looking. Lu Yao can hardly remember what it was they were talking about that sunny afternoon, but as he closes his eyes, he thinks he can still feel the warm sunlight on his skin, the fresh scent of flowers and grass in the air as he stood right next to Chusheng.

And the smile in Chusheng's voice as he spoke to him.

One would think that at the ripe old age of 72, Lu Yao would have learnt to let things go, but the regret sits heavy in his chest — an unchanging weight that has lodged itself permanently between his heart and his ribcage, throbbing painfully with every breath he has taken in the last forty years.

Forty years, Lu Yao thinks.

Forty years since he laid eyes on the man he loved for the very last time. A man he never got to spend his life with, for which Lu Yao has regretted since.

As he aged, as the wrinkles sank deeper and sun spots emerged on his once-smooth and unblemished skin, Lu Yao can barely see his own soul mark anymore. The image of it however has been seared into his brain — a full moon right over his heart, just like the one he saw that night with Chusheng on the bridge, when they were both naive and hoping life was just that bit simpler, that time would pass just a little slower.

A full moon that was printed right over Chusheng’s heart, identical to Lu Yao’s.

Qiao Chusheng, Lu Yao blinks languidly, how dare you?

When Lu Yao finally saw it, when he finally realized that he had lost so much time he could have had with Chusheng because the man truly was his soulmate all along, Chusheng was no longer breathing.

I’m sorry, Liu Zi had said to him, his face ashen.

Lu Yao stood in the morgue, a place he had spent so much time with Chusheng in as the man watched him conduct multiple brief autopsies on their latest victims. Instead of an unknown face and body lying there this time, however, it was Chusheng.

By then, Lu Yao hadn’t seen Chusheng in three years, having fled to Paris to escape his family and a love that he thought would never be reciprocated.

He told us not to let you know, Youning said, her eyes swollen from a few hours of continuous tears, he wanted something better for you.

Well, Lu Yao thinks bitterly, Chusheng eliminated that 'better' option the moment he died, leaving him alone with regrets of all the things they never said to each other. And forty years later, he is old, dying and alone. No wife, no children, no family in sight.

If Youning didn’t force him to come live with her and her huge family a few years ago, Lu Yao might have died even sooner perhaps.

As it is, Youning and her husband are still alive. If Chusheng did not leave them so early, he would have been uncle to three lovely children and their children too. The manor is never quiet, the silence constantly punctuated with high-pitched giggles, raucous laughter and heavy footsteps. Hands, both big and small, patting or shaking at him to get his attention, asking him to tell them exciting stories of his days way back as a consulting detective.

Those days were his happiest. And after his soulmate left him, the most painful.

If only he had said something, if only he did not leave like a coward, if only Lu Yao had opened his fucking mouth and taken a leap of faith, he could have had a few more years with Chusheng, if not a lifetime.

Lu Yao has lived four, excruciating and long decades after as punishment, even though he’d thought about following after Chusheng too many times. Every glance at the soul mark on his chest makes the skin burn as his throat tightens, unable to breathe as the memory of Chusheng’s every word, his every smile and touch, assaults his senses.

The afternoon today is unnaturally lovely for this season, sunlight peeking through the dense clouds and casting a golden glow against the thick sheets of snow outside. Lu Yao is afraid of the cold and has dreaded every winter since Chusheng was buried, because the only person who loved him enough to ensure that he was always warmed up died forty years ago, taking along with him Lu Yao’s beating heart.

On this day, however, the biting winds don’t seem to bother him all that much. He left the door open earlier, and from where he’s seated, he can see the grand manor that is Youning and her soulmate’s home. Outside in the courtyard, Li Chuyu, Youning’s eldest daughter, is watching her two children and their three cousins tumble in the snow with Li Minsheng, Chuyu’s younger brother and Youning’s third child.

They grew up calling him San Tu shushu, and Lu Yao wonders what kind of an uncle Chusheng would have been. If Chusheng knew that Lu Yao spent most of his time buying expensive gifts for the children and agreeing to all their requests, including when Chuyu and her younger sister, Chuwen, begged him to bring them to a crime scene, Lu Yao knows Chusheng might have scolded him for it.

I wouldn’t have, Chusheng’s voice sounds in the back of his head.

Lu Yao smiles. Chusheng is standing right there next to him as he says that, dressed in the same navy blue suit from the photo in his hands.

“You wouldn’t have?” Lu Yao croaks before huffing in laughter, “You’re such a liar, Lao Qiao.”

How would I have had the heart to scold you, Chusheng points out, I would have scolded the children instead.

“Even I can’t bear to scold them,” Lu Yao says, sighing as he looks out again. “Minsheng reminds me of you. And the way Chuwen nags at me sometimes, it’s as if you were around when they were growing up.”

They grew up well, Chusheng agrees.

Lu Yao feels the slightest of pressure on his shoulder, but he no longer has any energy to turn and look at Chusheng.

San Tu ah, Chusheng says softly, you did well.

“Did I?” asks Lu Yao, shuddering as he takes in another breath. “I lost you.”

Stupid, and there it is, that exasperated but immensely fond tone that Lu Yao has not heard in so long, you’ll never lose me.

Lu Yao chuckles, and for the first time since he saw Chusheng’s lifeless body, that weight in his chest eases.

Much later, when little Ruoyun runs into the little hut that serves as San Tu yeye’s private study, she sees the old man asleep on his rocking chair. Her baba and gugu are there, their eyes puffy and red, and Youning nainai is there as well, seated on a stool right next to San Tu yeye.

“Nainai! I want to ask yeye about something,” Ruoyun says quietly, coming inside. “Is yeye sleeping?”

She goes to Youning when the old woman opens her arms, wondering why everyone is crying.

“Ruoyun ah,” Youning nainai says, “Your San Tu yeye went to find your Chusheng yeye.”

“Chusheng yeye? The one who has San Tu yeye’s mark?”

Clutched tight in his right hand is the photo she took so many years ago of Chusheng and Lu Yao, his fingers curled around it as he left.

===

2019

He remembers Qiao Chusheng fully when he sees him in what seems to be their next life the moment he lays his eyes on him.

“You’re the new roommate then?” asks Chusheng, standing at the door with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “Come on in.”

Lu Yao stands frozen in the doorway for a good few seconds, his eyes trained on his new roommate as everything clicks in his head, all the missing pieces sliding together perfectly in his head as images of a different looking Qiao Chusheng melds together with the one before him.

For as long as Lu Yao could remember, he has dreamt of himself and his soulmate, but differently. Snippets and snatches of moments that belonged to a different time, and when he was younger, his mother would bring him to doctors and psychologists to see what exactly was ailing him but Lu Yao continued having the dreams. He learnt instead to hide them from his family and friends.

He did wonder if he was going insane, or if there was something wrong with him, but while the dreams were frequent when he was much younger, once he entered high school, they only turned up occasionally. In university, Lu Yao could almost pretend he was normal and that everything he dreamt of and saw was simply a figment of his imagination.

A man in an old police uniform, driving an old, vintage car. The same man putting a watch on his wrist. The man in a long, black cape on one occasion, in a leather jacket on a few other occasions, and the one that surfaced frequently was him in a three-piece navy blue suit. Lu Yao never heard any sort of dialogue, but he remembers the man’s gentle eyes, full of fondness for him and the smile tugging at his lips whenever he looks at Lu Yao.

Looking at him like he loves him. The same soul mark on the man’s chest, right where Lu Yao’s is.

A full moon, like the one he and Qiao Chusheng, in their past life, was looking at that night. Lu Yao remembers that night as clearly as if it was a recurring dream.

And right here, right now, Lu Yao’s breath catches, because his new roommate’s soul mark is there for everyone to see, fresh from his shower.

It matches the soul mark on Lu Yao’s chest, and for a moment, he feels nauseous and sick.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chusheng frowns, stepping forward. “You look a little sick, are you-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Lu Yao bends over, and empties his stomach right on the man’s doorstep.

—

When his mind is clearer and the urge to throw up has abated somewhat, Lu Yao feels like throwing himself into the river and be done with it.

His soulmate, his one and only true love, and Lu Yao just made him clean up his mess. Most people would be happy to find their soulmates, he knows, but right now, Lu Yao is petrified. His cheeks are scalding hot with embarrassment as he lies there unmoving on the couch after Chusheng helped him there.

“Lu Yao, isn’t it?” Chusheng’s voice sounds right next to him then, and Lu Yao jolts. “Man-jie said you were coming over today.”

“I’m Qiao Chusheng. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

Ah, Lu Yao thinks, even his name is the same.

Lu Yao suspects that he’s truly gone off the bend, because what are the fucking odds? Soulmates and soul marks are the order of the natural world, but reincarnation, prophetic dreams, fate and what not? That’s something you only see out of movies.

Shaking his head in mortification, Lu Yao croaks, “I was feeling a little under the weather from the long train ride. I’m a doctor, I’m fine.”

Then, “I’m really sorry about the door.”

“No worries. You’re a doctor at Jiahui International? That’s four streets away from here,” Chusheng smiles.

Lu Yao feels his dumb, traitorous heart leap at the sight of those curved lips.

“Yeah, this is the closest place I could find,” Lu Yao swallows. “You… What do you do?”

“I work at the precinct, it’s seven blocks away in the other direction,” Chusheng answers.

A police officer, Lu Yao thinks, just like…

Just like before.

“It’s almost time for dinner and I’ve got some ingredients in the fridge,” Chusheng says suddenly, getting to his feet. “Are you allergic to anything? I’ll do some seafood porridge and two light dishes.”

“Ah, you don’t have to go to the trouble-“

Lu Yao tries to get to his feet, but Chusheng pats at his shoulder, signalling for him to just lie down and take a good rest.

“Consider it a welcome dinner,” he winks. “I haven’t had many roommates that throw up right on the door the first time we meet.”

Lu Yao’s cheeks flame immediately and the nausea recedes momentarily. He’s not sure if he can manage without throwing up again, so he obeys and lies there, almost drifting off to the sound of Chusheng in the kitchen.

It feels as if he’s split into two - one part of him remembers another Qiao Chusheng from a long, long time ago, and the other part of him has met his own Qiao Chusheng now. Are they one and the same? If they are, it doesn’t seem as if this Qiao Chusheng suffers from the same dreams as he does, because the man didn’t even pause one bit at the sight of him earlier.

Smiling to himself a little, Lu Yao knows all he has is time. If the dreams are from a past life, a past life of love unfulfilled and soulmates who were doomed to part, then in this one, in this life…

Lu Yao will never let him go again.

He’s interrupted from his thoughts when a steaming hot bowl of porridge appears in front of him, and the scent has his stomach growling loudly.

“You’re too skinny,” Chusheng says, sitting down on the coffee table as he moves the bowl closer to Lu Yao. “Are all doctors as skinny as you are?”

“Have you seen a lot of doctors?”

Lu Yao asks, then grabs for the bowl thankfully as he sits up. His hand touches Chusheng’s unintentionally right at that moment, and Lu Yao draws in a sharp breath and jerks, as if the contact burnt him.

Chusheng is staring at him with an indescribable expression on his face.

Damn it, Lu Yao did not think so far earlier, how he would tell Qiao Chusheng that he has a matching mark on his own chest. He didn’t think the connection would be this strong either — in his dreams, he doesn’t recall this ever happening, otherwise maybe Lu Yao in the past would have gotten a clue, considering how often Qiao Chusheng touched him.

Quietly, as if entranced, Chusheng reaches out. His fingers lightly trail over the spot where Lu Yao’s soul mark should be, hidden underneath his shirt.

“… here?” he asks, eyes wide. “The same?”

Setting the bowl on the table next to Chusheng, Lu Yao unbuttons the top few buttons on his shirt, his fingers hesitant and a little clumsy. His cheeks are tinged slightly in red and even though he knows this is his soulmate, the man he's destined to spend the rest of his life with, this Qiao Chusheng is new to him.

“You didn’t say anything earlier when you saw mine,” Chusheng swallows, Lu Yao’s soul mark visible to him now.

“I was busy throwing up at your door,” reminds Lu Yao, and then because it’s a little ticklish, he grasps at Chusheng’s straying hand.

The grip brings Chusheng back to the present, but nothing can prepare Lu Yao for the wide, gorgeous smile that emerges on Chusheng’s face.

"You mean... our door," Chusheng replies cheekily.

It takes Lu Yao's breath away.

“Here, eat up, and we should… we should talk,” Chusheng says, already sounding like a naggy motherhen as he picks up the bowl again.

He watches a little reverently, so quiet as he watches Lu Yao eat, not forgetting to pick up some vegetables and meat from the two other dishes he cooked and place them in Lu Yao’s bowl whenever it looks a little empty.

Perhaps this Chusheng will never remember, Lu Yao wonders, it’s too soon to tell.

One thing is for certain — the way this Chusheng looks at him, and the way the past Qiao Chusheng looked at Lu Yao… it is exactly the same.

“What do you like to eat? I’ll do some grocery shopping later,” Chusheng suggests.

Lu Yao smiles then, remembering all the times this man bought breakfast and meals for him in a lifetime that is not his own.

“We can go together,” he says.

They have the rest of this life to figure it out.

#my roommate is a detective #mriad #chuyao #民国奇探 #ahhhh kind of back from writing hiatus i guess?#this has been in my askbox forever #sorry anon #thank you anon #soulmate!au #soulmark!au #reincarnation #fic

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alpaca-writes · 3 years ago

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Mystics, Chapter 30

Sorry for the impromptu hiatus, I became pretty busy these last few weeks -and in addition I had little inspo to continue as of late- but never fear! Mystics is back on the road and I plan to finish the first draft of this story by the end of August! (Here’s hoping!)

Xx. - Alpaca

Read Chapters 1-29 and more HERE

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: Not much to warn about for this one! Just some discussion of future mutilation to come :)

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

CHAPTER THIRTY: VOW AND PROMISE

“He didn’t.”

“I am telling you, Persephone, Lyrem must have put Rosanna in the Labyrinth. Who else would have been so callous? So evil?”

“He would never,” she stamped her foot making her stance known. “Lyrem would have loved his own child more than life itself. I saw into his memories and I guarantee you, Charlotte, that it was my half-brother’s doing.”

Charlotte raised a finger toward the goddess. “Hold on- who is your half-brother?”

Persephone sighed and then muttered nearly out of ear-shot, “who isn’t my half-brother…”

Persephone took a step back. There was a lot that Charlotte didn’t know and in the midst of explaining the Pan/ Paimon conundrum, Charlotte stopped her.

“Arthur told me about the demon, Persephone.”

“He’s a diabolical thing- I call Pan a demon all the time”-

“No- Arthur thinks that Pan is a demon. He’s walking in there with holy water as a weapon and my crucifix in his pocket!”

Persephone’s eyes grew a little wider. “… Oh, oh right...” she peeped.

“So, what you’re saying is that my child is currently not just stuck with that venomous creep, Lyrem, but they are also being held hostage by a sadistic malevolent God,” Charlotte surmised, “and for some reason you and… Hades the God of the Underworld, sent my very mortal, very human brother to save them without any help at all?”

The booming voice of Hades came down from somewhere above to justify the logic of the situation.

“Well, you see, our souls are larger than the souls of mortal humans, dear little thing. It is easier for Pan to shut the door on beings like myself and Persephone. Mortals like you are like ants… or termites: they squeeze in through the cracks of our realms and cause a mess here and there without care for us. I gave Arthur just a touch of my power to stand a fighting chance of releasing Apollo from his prison there. Once he does, Pan will likely be unable to defend his claim on our territory.”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. “Did you just call me a termite?”

Hades fell silent, using the fact that he was unseen to his advantage and pretended to have not heard the woman. Charlotte shook her head in the attempt to clear it.

“How can I believe that Pan won’t simply snap his fingers and kill Arthur? Or Arch? And what exactly is your goal here? To leave? Once you escape, how can I be certain that my child and my brother exit the Underworld alive?!”

“Once we are released, we will be allowed back into the Underworld, and we will punish Pan for his crimes against your family and humanity itself,” Persephone explained as Charlotte advanced on her like a predator. “Right, Uncle?”

“Of course,” Hades confirmed.

Charlotte took their words lightly, knowing she had little advantage in the position she held.

“I don’t trust you- either of you! You act as though people are just little toys- pawns to observe and to order around! Arch isn’t safe in your hands anymore than they are in Pan’s. Of that much, I am certain”-

“There’s no reason to further explain our position on the matter,” Hades boomed, sounding for the first time uneasy and somewhat offended. “Persephone, just ignore the termite. We shall wait for Apollo to open a way through for us.”

Persephone’s gaze fell from the woman and into the darkness as she battled her conscience. She opened her mouth to speak, and then hesitated, wondering if Hades was right; if she should listen to her uncle. She eyed Charlotte carefully as a pang of guilt struck her through like a sword. The mother’s anger was understandable. She had lost her child without any indication to whether they were alive or safe. The situation was strikingly familiar; Persephone found herself wondering if her own mother had tried searching for her, and fought gods with the same passionate rage as Charlotte was now. She would have been honoured if Demeter had done anything of the sort. Running away from Mount Olympus without a word to anyone was a very cruel thing to do- whether or not it was to a trusted family member. Persephone saw that now, clear as ever.

“Charlotte, Mother of Arch,” Persephone addressed her and then gulped. “You have my word that your family will be protected and will leave the Underworld unharmed”-

Hades’ voice came scolding from above. “Persephone…”

“-this I vow.”

From underneath the shoulder of her dress came winding down a string of vines.

“I serve my own essence as sacrifice upon the condition that”-

“Persephone!” Hades growled, interrupting her, “a deal such as this is not to be taken so lightly!”

Charlotte rose her head to watch the blooming white flowers spring from Persephone’s arm and grow down to her fingers with poisonous thorns to ward off any who would try to remove her power from her. The vines began to wither and die from her shoulders down, killing the flowers as Hades forced her hand. In a snap decision, Persephone plucked the last remaining flower from the tips of her fingers. Hades had tried to work quickly, but it was not enough.

“There!” Persephone grasped Charlotte’s hand, with her own, giving the woman the flower to hold. Now you can’t say anything, Uncle.”

Hades audibly huffed in disappointment. “You stupid child!”

Charlotte stared down at the flower, wondering what it all meant.

“Everything I am is in that blossom,” Persephone said boldly, and terrified, “If Arch is not returned safely to you and to Earth- if Arthur isn’t returned safely and to Earth, then… you can choose whether or not I continue living as a goddess.”

Charlotte blinked. She expected to have some sort of leverage- maybe get something in writing, but this was beyond what she had expected to receive as collateral.

“You can’t trust a mortal with your essence, Persephone!” Hades continued to berate. “They are sneaking, and conniving! You have no idea what this one will do with it!”

“She can’t use it, Uncle.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then you had better help her save her child then, and her brother,” Persephone advised, feeling more powerful with every word, “otherwise, Charlotte will turn me into one of your loathsome termites… Won’t you?” she turned.

Charlotte cupped the flower gently in her hand, “what about Rosanna?”

Persephone nodded somberly. “We will try our best to help you find her as well.”

Hades was thankful yet again for his unseen nature as he contemplated what he would have to tell Zeus and Demeter about the poor decisions their daughter had made under his care. How did a simple Pan-esque prank become a life and death situation for a goddess? And for the sake of a few measly mortals, no less! There was nothing to be done about it now. Charlotte had Persephone’s essence in her hand. As he watched the women make their bargain with life, the flower petals melded into Charlotte’s palm.

It tickled, and then ached as the flower solidified beneath her skin. Charlotte felt the area, seemingly no different than before besides a small outline of the six petals. She looked back at Persephone, who was looking a bit humbled by the experience, and now seemed rather discouraged by the cautionary words spewed by her most trusted of family.

“Thank you,” Charlotte swallowed back any more show of emotion. “Now… Is there anything we can do to help Arch? To help Arthur?”

“No! We are stuck here until we have Apollo!” Hades grew sick and tired of repeating himself.

“Unfortunately, he is right,” Persephone concurred.

Charlotte huffed, with her hands on her hips, staring daggers at the goddess.

Persephone gulped, “but, we can start a plan to find Rosanna, I suppose.”

Charlotte nodded, “that’s better.”

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

Meanwhile, in the Underworld,

��Just relax,” Paimon crooned.

“Relax?! You lied to me. I’m not becoming any stronger, am I?” Arch’s anger was getting the better of them- overpowering even their fear.

“Now, now, I didn’t lie to you,” Paimon countered, controlling his own temperament. “I asked difficult things of you, and in return I promised to reward you. Doesn’t that seem fair?”

“Not when you can just take it away and give it back at will! Lyrem said you weren’t a demon either so what the hell are you?”-

“Lyrem says a lot of things. It does not matter- and it will not matter, very soon. Just relax, now.” Paimon held their shoulders down as Arch sat in the desk chair. Keeping them still was important. “I am not as talented in the memory department as most of my kin are, so if you struggle up here”- he tapped their forehead with a couple fingers. “-then I may take away your ability to speak, or dance, or enjoy rom-coms. That doesn’t sound very pleasant, now, does it?”

Arch glared at him with their jaw clenched tight. They held back.

“No,” they reluctantly agreed. “But… what if I don’t want to forget?”

Paimon tsked at them. “Nobody wants to forget,”-

“No, I mean,” they tried to clarify. Paimon looked like he wasn’t going to be willing to give them much time. “What if… I still want to work with you?”

Paimon stopped himself from raising his hand to their head. He looked at them skeptically and considered their words.

“Despite knowing what you know?” he asked.

Arch nodded.

“Look, I am pissed that you lied, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t make this work. I still want power, but I want to have a clear arrangement, you know?” They continued, noticing the change in Paimon’s demeanour. He was considering the offer. “I don’t want to be kept in the dark- if the power is yours and I borrow it from time to time, then I’m happy with that- I just want to know things.”

Paimon raised hand to his mouth and backed away to contemplate. Idly, he fiddled with the discman and headphone set on the desk.

“Just let me know things. That’s all I ask.” The voice repeated behind him.

“And what about our mutual friend?”

“Lyrem?”

Paimon nodded, turning to them.

Arch scratched at their nose.

“I think Lyrem needs to retire.” They stated.

“And… your uncle? Your mother?”

Their scratching nails found the back of their neck. They thought of Charlotte’s disappearance, and Arthur’s insistence to help them get out of the mess they had found themselves in.

But Arch knew better than to assume everything could return to normal. Uncle Arty didn’t know that what they had become. He didn’t know that they had started flaying people alive, and dismembering bodies, and removing human hearts to eat them. There was no way to go back to who they were. Not now. It was for the best if they became a distant memory.

“I never want to see them ever again,” they replied.

Paimon feigned a sympathetic pout and wrapped a comforting arm around their shoulder. No nails dug into their flesh, no threats followed, but instead-

“I promise, you’ll never have to see them ever again,” he spoke reassuringly, and then added, “Not if you do one last thing for me.”

Arch nodded, “alright, name it.”

“I have made a deal with Lyrem- he doesn’t believe you to be strong enough yet to take over for him when he is gone.” Paimon started. “If you can show him that you are skilled enough- ruthless enough- to replace him then his empire is yours- oh, and it will be mine as well, I suppose. I know you want everything to be straightforward.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Arch stood themselves up, and walked through the room. “And how do I prove myself?”

“You’ll carve out a heart for him,” Paimon grinned, “without any help, in under five minutes”-

“That doesn’t seem too hard”-

“-and blindfolded.”

Their dark brows knit together, suspiciously studying the satyr.

“Straightforward,” Arch broached. “Who am I carving?”

Paimon waved a hand. “Oh, there is need for you to be concerned with”-

“Is it Lyrem? I bet it’s Lyrem.”

Paimon paused, sighed, and cocking his head at them, he wagged his finger. “I told him you were quick!”

Arch shrugged with their usual sideways smirk.

“I am pretty smart, aren’t I?” they boasted. “Hey, can I listen to some tunes while I do it? Personally, I don’t like all the screaming and crying.”

Paimon picked up the discman without hesitation and handed it over to them.

Arch smiled, accepting it. “Cool.”

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knifefather · 4 years ago

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Hi. I dont really know how to start this. But can you write something about being some sort of kindred spirit with Bruno? Like going through similar stuff, having similar values, being in a leadership position. Trying to get away from a past life. Learning the truth about a dirty secret, and living with guilt. What would romance be like, being someone similar? If this s/o was feeling down, would Bruno even try to cheer them up? If life came crashing down, if the flashbacks came at the same time every year, even if everyone around seemed so desensitized, would he even attempt to help? Or would they both just be so fucked up? I'm sorry this was long and kind of self-indulgent. If possible, I would like to be 🦅 anon.

Yes of course! Welcome to the anon gang!

Being a kindred spirit with Bruno would be so incredibly intimate. Being his loved one is already intimate enough, but having that spiritual connection with him would be the most fulfilling thing in the world. To have him look in your eyes and know that he’s seen a life very similar to yours is the most comforting thing. You never feel more safe and understood than when your love is by your side. He would definitely try to help you, even if nobody else noticed you were struggling, because he knows what you’re going through and knows that you can’t do it alone. If Bruno could be there for you, he would in a heartbeat, because that’s what you would do, too.

It’s been years since it happened to you. It’s been years, and you still hold your head and squeeze your eyes shut at the barrage of memories. The environment around you is different, but the weather outside mirrors the forecast of harder days. The words said that you shouldn’t have heard ring in your ears over and over, like a disorder. The ones that you should have said are twice as loud.

You can’t afford to be weak like this--you have people who depend on you. It’s your job to be diligent, to be a pillar of strength for those who are weak. People look up to you, and you can’t bear the thought of letting them down. To disappoint them is to disappoint yourself. The cold, bony hands of depression seized you with a vice-like grip easily. Even despite the strength you display, the fire inside you is not enough to shake its grasp, your flames doused easily.

You drag in a shaky breath, tears threatening to spill from your eyes for the first time in a very long time. Suddenly, you feel a soft hand on your shoulder, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You whip your head behind you to see Bruno standing there, his eyes sparkling with concern as he gazes at you. No words have to be said. He takes in your form near the window, gazing morosely at the landscape on the other side. Your eyes are still glistening from your unguarded moment.

Shame hits you hard and heavy. Out of everyone, you care about what Bruno thinks of you the most. Yet, he is the one who judges you the least. In its essence, it’s not the lack of judgment: he’s already passed judgment on you from the moment he met you, and from then, he knew that you had a good heart. In those emotional moments where you told him the bits and pieces of your past, he knew then that you both were one and the same. He fell in love with you quickly and even if he has to remind you over and over that you’re worth loving, he would do it until the end of time. There are many times when you’ve had to do the same for him.

Bruno looks at you, his hand comforting on your shoulder. When his eyes are on you, you feel actually seen. He doesn’t look through you, but at your soul.

“It gets easier as the years go by.” His eyes flicker from your face to outside. “Give it time... You’ll change, just like the weather outside.”

“Even if it changes, it always returns to the same conditions,” you retort, your brows furrowing. Don’t cry. Do not cry. Not in front of him. You will yourself to restrain your emotions.

“You never feel the same thing twice.” You cock your head, confused, and he elaborates.

“F. Scott Fitzgerald said, ‘There are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice.’ It’s applicable to many other parts of our lives, too.” With how earnestly he is beaming at you, you almost feel embarrassed. You feel a blush bloom on your cheeks, and he gives one of his small, rare smiles at your expression.

“The pain you felt in the past won’t be as strong in the present. That pain changes. It brings on different challenges, but also new ways to deal with those challenges,” he says, his voice gentle and almost matter-of-fact. You know that those words come from his heart--like you, Bruno has been through the wringer.

“Why do people leave?” you ask, more so to yourself rather than to him. Your voice cracks as you speak, and you try in vain to swallow the lump of emotion gathered in your throat. “Why do things have to fall apart? And why are people like you and me caught in the middle? Why doesn’t anyone else understand?” you ask with an increasingly upset tone, a single tear streaking down your face. You are looking back out the window now, your brain plagued by all of the hardship that you tried so hard to hold back.

Bruno is quick to brush that tear from your cheek. His own face is pained, but behind it, a glimmer of hope that he wants to impart onto you. He grabs your chin softly and made you face him. Your heart flutters at the gesture.

“No one will ever know. But what we do know is that there are people like you and I that stay.” You bite your lip, trying to shove down the emotion that threatens to tumble out of you. “We put things back together. We right wrongs because we’ve seen calamity. Taking care of others just ensures that we’re doing our best to make sure that nobody feels as horrible as we have,” Bruno tells you, reaching down to grab both of your hands in his.

“We’ve seldom seen calm, so we make our own.”

You shiver. Bruno’s words turn over and over in your mind, reminding you of every horrible thing that had lead you to that point. Against your will, you begin to cry. You try to hide it at first, looking away from him and withdrawing your hands. It isn’t hard for him to see, and he coos to you softly in Italian before drawing you into his arms. Your body trembles from the sobs, and he lovingly strokes down your shoulders to sooth you.

You lose track of how long you spend in Bruno’s arms, him cradling your head and letting you vent your emotions. He sees so much of his younger self in you, felt the same feelings as you and thought your thoughts. In the moment, you feel strange, like your body is melding into his. You feel like apart of something bigger than yourself and truly understood. For so long you felt like you were screaming and nobody could hear you. You’ve been heard, at long last.

Carefully, Bruno helps you to your feet and wraps an arm around you. Before you walk away with him, you gaze out the window once again. The scene is still the same as before, very little changing in the past few minutes. Though, something is different this time. The disquiet inside you was hushed, and you felt and all-encompassing warm feeling as you look away from the window and at Bruno’s inviting tan face, his warm hand gripping yours.

Calm.

#this was such an amazing ask #i love this concept so much #i hope that i did this justice #i could tell you've been through some pain in your life so i hope that i made this relatable #bruno bucciarati #bruno confession #jjba #sfw #knife asks #tw loss #tw depression #🦅 anon #knife requests

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jjkfire · 5 years ago

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Obey

Reader x Taehyung // mafia!AU // 8k words

Summary: You’re the agency’s worst escort and yet the local mafia’s head of security still chooses you

Genre: Smut, Fluff (?)

A/N: how long has this been sitting in my drafts? too long. anyway, smut? who is she? i forgot.

Having to pay off loan sharks and save up for graduate school isn’t exactly easy. Your day job pays you good money but the interest on the illegal loan your estranged father left you with, compounds with each growing day. You knew coming back to your hometown had been a mistake but with your mother’s recent death, you didn’t know where else to go. Who knew that when you returned, you’d be slapped with a debt so big that you couldn’t even dream of paying it off? You haven’t seen your father since you were 4 but that didn’t stop the loan sharks. They needed their money back and you were his only available next of kin. You needed more money and you needed it quick. That’s why when your co-worker, Seokjin tells you of an opening at the local escort agency, you jump at the chance.

Seokjin is an angel, that much you’re convinced. He’s pulled so many strings just for you and you don’t think there’s any way you can ever repay his kindness. He pretty much runs the HR side of things for the escort agency and is the only reason why you’ve been allowed to get away with most of the nonsense that you do. In summary, you’re a horrible escort and Jin covers for you every time.

The local escort agency is a rather interesting organization. It serviced mainly the local mafia boys, providing the men with entertainment every time they stopped by the lounge. Whatever it was they were interested in doing for the night, be that gambling, karaoke or even just plain old drinking, the lounge was the place for that. All the newbies to the escort agency were often made to work most nights, servicing these men.

The job was simple. You were basically glorified arm candy. You would bring the boys their drinks, let them touch your butt a little or let them kiss your neck if they wanted to and then go home with a few extra hundred-dollar bills. Now just as all the other girls, clients could choose to call you up and rent you for a night. Yet, you’ve made it a whole year without that happening. Any other one of the escorts would be upset about that because everyone knows you get more money if you actually spent the night with someone. It’s a bit of a talent of yours, turning clients away from you without putting yourself in jeopardy but this time around, you seem to have run out of luck.

Tonight, you find yourself standing in line with 4 other girls, facing a double-sided mirror. It’s common practice for when someone high up in the mafia hierarchy was looking for a new plaything… or so you’ve been told. This is your first time ever being in this room. To put off the client, you chose an ill-fitting dress for the night. You hadn’t even bothered to put on make-up either. Your agency has long stopped trying to tell you what to do. Lord knows Jin has given up months ago. Anyway, you’re not sure why you’re even here. You rarely— or more accurately, never got selected from the binder because you had made it a mission to make yourself sound rather boring, unappealing even and you even made sure to be extremely honest about your lack of sexual prowess.

Yet, despite all of that, you were selected… and by Kim Taehyung no less. See, this time you were actually nervous. No one had seen you in this state before, actually trembling.

Last week

“Why was my profile even in the binder? Don’t you usually offer some sort of premium binder with only the best girls to clients as important as him?” You ask Jin as you pace up and down his office.

“We did but then he asked for the general binder. Said that he didn’t quite trust our taste.”

“Honestly, my profile shouldn’t even be in the binder anymore,” You groan.

Truth is, you shouldn’t even be an employee anymore but they needed pretty faces to entertain the boys. See, you wanted the money from being an escort but you weren’t quite sure about the sex part. The last boyfriend you had, had made sure you were painfully aware at how bad you were at pleasing men. So, you and Jin came up with the master plan to help you become an escort without really being one. Together you curated your profile, making sure that the men would skip right past your page when going through the binder of girls they could select from. It’s worked so far. You’ve fooled every single man that’s gone through the binder… except Taehyung of course.

Seokjin and every living, breathing soul had told you to keep your distance from him. See, Taehyung was the Head of Security for the local mafia. That meant he was the fixer. If there was a problem in any form, that being a situation or even a person, he would make the problem disappear. Easy, fast, quick. Taehyung embodied efficiency. They said he worked like a robot, pulling the trigger with absolutely no remorse. So, the word on the street was if you just so much as breathe wrongly in his presence, he could end you right there, right then. Around him, mistakes weren’t allowed and thus, you were told that if you ever got selected to be his regular, your life expectancy would sink like a rock.

You should’ve listened, you really should’ve. You should’ve found other ways to keep yourself busy but it’s not your fault that the girls didn’t give you a good enough description of him the first night you met him. They said tall and dangerous but to you, Taehyung seemed anything but dangerous.

There were girls aplenty that night you were working the lounge. You slipped away into the other room, knowing full well that you wouldn’t be missed. You arranged and rearranged the strawberries and assorted snacks on the many different plates. You twisted and turned all the alcohol bottles laid out and read their labels over and over just to pass time. You munched on the snacks, humming a tune as you looked out the window to see the town you call home. It’s not until you saw Taehyung in the reflection that you jumped in your spot, quickly swallowing what you had in your mouth before dusting your dress off any crumbs.

“C-can I get anything for you? Whiskey, maybe?” You asked with a smile despite the fact that you had been caught red-handed slacking on the job.

“A double shot gin and tonic would be nice,” He smiled and you got to work immediately. You were stirring the tall glass soon after, ready to lead him into the main room but he made himself comfortable on one of the couches behind you instead.

“It’s getting a little rowdy out there,” He laughed. “You know how Jimin gets when he’s having a good game of blackjack.”

You only nodded, laughing before you set down his drink in front of him. You stood awkwardly before him, unsure if you were meant to join him or return to the main room. As if sensing your unease, he called for you to take a seat.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” He hummed, stirring his drink. “Are you new?”

“Me? Oh, I’ve been here a few months already so not exactly new… but I’m Y/N,” You smiled, introducing yourself.

“Taehyung,” He grinned in return and he watched your eyes go wide, like you had a moment of realization. “Judging by your expression, you’ve heard of me?”

“Y-yeah… You’re the Head of Security. A very important man,” You laughed but he could sense the fear behind your laughter.

Though you were awkward at first, you quickly became comfortable. Taehyung was easy to be around, interesting to talk to and with every night you saw him, the two of you only grew closer. He would often find you in the back room, the same way he found you the first time, munching away on snacks meant for him and the boys. The two of you would be lost in your own world, talking about anything from conspiracy theories to sports to world politics and even local gossip. That’s not to say all the two of you ever did was talk. Sometimes he had his hand halfway up your skirt, your lips melding against his, moving at a set rhythm until you pull away, breathless, but aching for more. You guess you didn’t actually mind it. Taehyung was easy on the eyes, and that was an understatement. If anything it was sure as hell better than being fondled by some 50 year old guy. Maybe it also had to do with the fact that you were inexperienced, that this was the most action you’ve gotten since you broke up with your boyfriend more than 3 years ago. If anything, it was an ego boost. Who would say no to making out with someone like him? The answer is well… almost everybody, but contrary to what everyone said, Taehyung seemed harmless. In fact, he was rather sweet. Always taking his time with you, always respectful.

You believed it, you really did. You understood that Taehyung might be a ruffian at work but when it was just you and him, he was anything but. Jin had to sit you down and really knock some sense into you, detailing his crimes, reiterating stories he had heard. He was ruthless, a maniac. Someone who would slit your throat without hesitation. Jin said you and the other girls had to understand that if Taehyung picked any one of you, there was no room for anything but perfection. You knew among the 5 girls that he had chosen, you were the weakest link and for your sake, everyone prayed he wouldn’t choose you because if he did, it was game over. It wasn’t just your life at risk you see, it was everyone’s. If Taehyung was unhappy with the service, after dealing with you, the next to go would be Jin and given Taehyung’s reputation, everyone would follow suit. It won’t be you, you mumbled. He wasn’t stupid. The boys talk about the escorts among themselves. He must know that any of the other girls would be a much better choice. You were worrying for nothing, you smiled. It wasn’t going to be you, you were confident it wasn’t.

“Y/N,” Jin hears Taehyung say through his earpiece. With unsteady fingers, he points at you and Taehyung gives an affirmation.

When Jin grabs you by the hand, attempting to lead you out of the room, you hesitate. You were so sure you weren’t going to be chosen, not when you were standing next to what were the top stars of the agency. Panic rises within you because you’re not ready for this responsibility. You couldn’t have the fate of the agency resting in your hands.

“I have herpes!” You shout, lying, eyes roaming around the double-sided mirror, not knowing where exactly he was standing. “Tell him I have herpes,” You tell Jin who winces when you tug his arm with urgency.

“He says he doesn’t care,” Jin mumbles, tapping at his earpiece.

“W-wait— Taehy—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because Jin is already dragging you out of the room. He wears an expression you’ve never seen before. It’s anger and fear, all mixed into one and when he pins you with his stare, you choose to look at your feet.

The elevator ride is silent, the doors opening with a ding when it reaches the top floor, the suite reserved for only the best clients. The last time you were in here was for a training session. You were taught how to work the room. Where to sit, what to do, how to entice the men. You struggle to remember most of it now, not when you’re thinking of how you were going to even survive tonight.

“Jin, please, you need to do something,” You whine, almost thrashing in your spot when you stop in front of the door. “Tell him something, tell him—”

“Stop making a scene! There’s nothing I can do now, do you understand?” Jin grumbles, shaking you. “Listen once you go into that room, I can’t really protect you anymore. You know what he’s capable of so, keep that pretty trap of yours shut.”

You simply nod, suddenly rendered mute by the warning. Before shutting the door on you, Jin flashes you a thumbs up, trying to look optimistic but you know more than anyone that he’s scared. In some way, he feels responsible for all of this and god, if anything happens to you, he’s not sure he can forgive himself. With shaky legs, you step further into the room, scanning the suite for a place to sit. Your eyes snap to the bed and you assume that’s where he would want you to be. It’s where you’ve been taught to sit anyway.

It isn’t long before you hear the door creak, Taehyung stepping into the room with a soft smile on his lips. He greets you and all you do is wave dumbly. God, you’re absolutely adorable. While unbuttoning his blazer, he realizes you look different tonight. The expression you wear mimics the one you had on the first time he met you. Fear. He could see it on every inch of your face.

“I uhh— I have herpes,” You mumble, again, as a last-ditch effort.

“I know you don’t,” Taehyung sighs, holding up a piece of paper that you know holds the results from the STD test that the agency made you go for just a few days ago.

“How are you so sure? The test results could be fabricated.”

“Oh your agency wouldn’t dare,” He laughs, placing his blazer on the back of a chair.

“Maybe I slept with someone last night,” You mumble, shuffling your feet. You mean to sound confident but it comes out sounding as anything but that.

“Yeah? And how was it then?” He asks as he removes his gun from his waistband, setting it down on the table. The sight makes Jin’s numerous warnings sound in your head again. This was no time to lie, no time to joke.

“Mustn’t have been that great if it’s taking you so long to answer,” He chuckles, noting your silence.

“I-I didn’t sleep with anyone last night,” You sigh, hands folding nervously in your lap.

Taehyung simply laughs before striding over to take a seat next to you. You’re nervous that much he can tell. You can’t even look him in the eye.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He murmurs, and you gulp, forcing yourself to look at him just so you can nod.

At that, he smiles. He stands up and makes his way over to the ice bucket tucked in the corner of the room.

“Champagne?”

“Yes, please.”

That’s the only sentence you’ve said so far with absolute certainty.

He walks over, glass of champagne in one hand and plate of strawberries in another. You accept them both meekly. Twirling the glass of champagne in your hand while you munch on a strawberry.

You’re a nervous eater and drinker. You knocked back glasses of champagne and almost cleared the whole plate of strawberries on your own.

“I have a feeling you don’t do this very often,” Taehyung smiles, refilling your glass for what must’ve been the 5th time now.

“H-huh? Oh, um, sorry,” You mumble as you snap into action. You tug your dress a little lower by the cleavage before you move up on the bed. You move slow, Taehyung watching as you kick off your shoes. Taking your time, you lay on your side, shoulders rolled back so your chest was on display. Your other hand slides to rest on your hip, before it slides down lower, drawing his attention to what he wanted the most. With your champagne still in hand, you put on a sultry expression, one you’ve been coached to make. Your free hand reaches for a strawberry, stopping to lick your lips just after a bite.

Taehyung takes a seat on the bed, laughing as he shook his head. When he turns to look at you, he sees a frown on your face. You didn’t understand. You did everything they told you to do. He was supposed to be smirking, not laughing. Taehyung pats the spot next to him, beckoning you over to take a seat.

“It doesn’t suit you,” He hums, when you’re finally at his side. “The whole sexy act they teach you girls to put on.”

“But, I-I’m plenty sexy,” You pout. You knew you weren’t a bombshell like some of the other girls were but you had your… well, charm.

“You are, you are,” He grins, pulling you onto his lap with ease as he’s done many times before. “I never said you weren’t. I just think you’re sexier when you’re doing your own thing, not whatever they teach you,” He hums as he pulls you in closer, his chest now flush against your back.

“But the act is what you boys like,” You mumble, as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “You know, we flash some skin, sway our hips, wink a little and by then you’ll all be drooling already.”

Taehyung lets out a breathy laugh, one hand wrapped around your centre while the other reaches for his champagne glass. He simply clinks his glass against yours with a smile.

“I can’t deny that,” He sighs after setting aside both his glass and yours. “But you see I much prefer you like this. Disobedient and sassy.”

You can’t see his face but you can almost imagine the smirk he’s wearing right now. It’s the one he always flashes you when he’s busy ogling you. His fingers toy with the sleeves of your dress that sit awkwardly on your shoulder, slipping them off with practised ease, as if he does this all the time and you sit there in his lap, too afraid to move.

“T-Taehy—"

There’s a hum of approval that leaves his lips, when your dress pools at your waist, his fingers brushing the underside of your bra. He peppers your shoulder with kisses, moving along until he reached your neck, his lips moving slow, leaving marks that you are sure will show tomorrow. Your breath stutters, quiet moans leaving your lips as his hand moves up to wrap around your throat. It’s right and it’s wrong. You want to but you can’t and you mean to stay silent but you can’t help but say what’s been on your mind since he stepped into the room.

“I haven’t had sex in years,” You blurt out, your eyes shut tight as you feel his lips pull away, the grip around your neck now loose as his hand drops back to your waist.

“I don’t know if they lied on my profile but I genuinely haven’t done it in years,” You sigh, hands toying with the material of your dress. They must’ve lied on your profile. Otherwise, Taehyung would’ve never picked you. “And I know they give us ratings, in terms of how good we are in bed and—”

“They rated you a 1/10.”

“Really? Wh—wha— T-That’s mean. I think I’m at least a solid three,” You huff. Three was the arbitrary number you and Jin had decided on because you were bad, but you weren’t that bad. “Anyway, that’s not my point.”

“What is your point then, love?” He asks and you twist in his lap to look at him. His hold on you is still tender, hands softly sitting on your hips.

“There’s a girl we have, Mirae. She’s a 10/10. Everyone that’s been with her, loves her.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with her. She was in the final line-up,” Taehyung mumbles, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What did she have to do with anything the two of you were doing right now?

“Exactly! You can just call them up, say you’re dissatisfied with me and ask for Mirae,” You smile. “They’ll send her right up.”

“But I’m not dissatisfied with you,” He frowns, utterly at a loss at why you would think so.

“O-okay, but she’s a guarantee 10/10 will blow your mind type of girl,” You mumble.

Your gaze is fixed somewhere else, as if you were too afraid to look him in the eye. It’s odd. You seemed to have had no problems being in his presence all the weeks prior to this. Maybe he was just so caught up in his own emotions to realize that you wanted none of this. Though, he’s sure that’s not the case. Most of the times he had you in his lap in the lounge, you’d be moaning into his mouth as you kissed him back as fervently as he did. You’d drive him crazy, grinding down on him as if you wanted more, moaning sinful things into his ears.

“Do I make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No… no, not at all.”

“So then do I scare you?”

“Not exactly,” You murmur, fingers pinching at your dress. “It’s just… you’re an important guy a-and we strive to impress. I also can’t afford to lose this job,” You mumble, eyes downcast.

“So you think you’re going to lose this job if I’m not impressed?”

“It’s a possibility, yes.”

“I’ll tell them you were a 10/10 mind blowing experience even if you were atrocious if that’s what you’re worried about.”

You look up at him with wide eyes, as if hope was gleaming in them and at that he could only smile. My god, you had him wrapped around your finger and you didn’t even know it.

“A-and you can’t take it out on anyone at the agency,” You mumble.

“You have my word, love,” He grins, nodding. “And I am always a man of my word.”

See, he’s anything but dangerous. You didn’t understand why everyone sees him as some type of monster.

“So,” He hums, twisting you back into your original spot, his chest pressed against your back once more. “Now back to business. You said you haven’t had sex in years? Is that why you’re always dripping even when all we’ve been doing is kissing?”

“I-I do not know what you’re talking about.”

Taehyung laughs, lips tucked between his teeth when you attempt to shrink away.

“There’s no need to be shy about it,” He smiles, hands moving down towards your thigh. His fingers massage your inner thighs, slowly making its way up. They creep higher and higher and you whimper, especially so when he lets out a breathy laugh. “So, you decided to skip the panties today,” He notes when he finds nothing but your smooth skin. His fingers move through your folds, making you squirm in his hold. “And here I was, thinking you didn’t want any of this.”

“I… I ran out of time,” You mumble. “Couldn’t find a clean pair.”

Taehyung snorts, shaking his head. You surely are an interesting character.

“I’m not complaining,” He smirks. “It just makes my job easier.”

Taehyung surely takes his time, his fingers moving at a glacial pace as his lips continue their work on your neck. You want to tell him to speed it up, to do something because you needed your 3-year drought to come to an end.

“You have something to say?” He questions as you continue to whine and fidget.

“I want more,” You murmur.

“More? More what, love?”

You know he’s just teasing. He knows what you want. How could he possibly not.

“Tell me, what do you want? Is it my fingers in your pussy?” He smirks, plunging two of them into you without any warning whatsoever and you moan, your eyebrows knit together at the sensation. “Or do you want me to touch you here? Work this until you’re sore and begging me to stop?” He queries, his thumb beginning to rub your clit in tight circles. You screw your eyes shut at the feeling, your hand fisting the sheets by your side as you spread your legs wider. God, it’s been too long, you think to yourself. This could hardly compare to your nightly routine of rubbing one out yourself under the blanket. The way his fingers stretch you when he curls them upwards makes you feel delirious and all you can do is mumble his name over and over. His thumb rubs tighter, faster circles against your bundle of nerves and you bite down on your lip to muffle the choked noises that threaten to spill out of your mouth.

“Look at you, you’re making such a mess,” He murmurs into your ear. The way his lips ghosts the shell of your ear makes a shiver run through you. His lips slowly moves down to leave marks on your neck, his tongue laving across the spots he’s decorated your skin with. “You’re dripping all over. Is it because you haven’t been touched in a while or because you’ve never been touched like this at all?”

You can’t answer, not when he’s doing all of that. Your mouth hangs open, almost as if you’re trying to answer him but all that leaves your throat are soft moans. Taehyung only laughs, his free hand moving to unbuckle your bra, fingers pinching your nipples when you finally help him rid yourself of the bra.

“Answer me, love,” He grins, teasing your nipple again, the act eliciting yet another moan out of you. “Has anyone else made you feel like this?”

“N-no,” You manage to say. “M-my ex wasn’t into anything other than doing it in the doggy position.”

“That’s a shame,” He sighs. “He never got to see you like this, moaning and whimpering, all desperate for more,” He hums, his hand abandoning your chest to move up to your throat, squeezing it lightly.

“I’m gonna cum,” You choke out as you begin to see white behind your eyelids, your legs trembling as he picks up the pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you with fervour.

“Not yet, love. You only cum when I say so.”

“I c-cant—”

“Ah, but you will,” He mumbles, adding a third finger, making you let out a choked sob. He wears an evil smirk as he teases your breast with his hand, his fingers moving to pinch your nipple harshly. You let out a whimper, your head lolling back as you try to ignore the tension in the pit of your stomach that threatens to snap.

“Please, please Taehyung, I—" Your sentence is cut short by a moan because he presses against your clit harder, rubbing figure eights at a pace that almost makes you go limp. You can feel your control begin to slip, your legs trembling as the pressure building in your abdomen finally snaps and you see nothing but hot white behind your eyelids. You’re panting, grinding down onto Taehyung’s lap as a slew of cuss words escape you. The man is relentless, his digits curling into your walls, his thumb still continuing on at its furious pace as you climb down from your high.

“I guess you’re not very good at following orders,” Taehyung sighs, clicking his tongue as he finally stops, pulling his hand away from your sopping pussy. He brings his hand up to your mouth, forcing you to lick clean your juices off his fingers and you do, tongue moving across them as you suck. “Dirty girl,” He smirks, pulling his digits out of your mouth before he grabs you by the waist, twisting you in his lap so you were facing him again.

“So what shall we do with you, hmm?” He prompts, his hold tender but his gaze otherwise. “I don’t take too kindly to disobedient sluts,” He huffs, removing his hold on you to loosen the tie he’s been wearing. You gulp, almost trembling because you couldn’t quite tell what he was going to do next. With the tie still in his hands, he reaches over to lift you up off his lap, urging to make yourself at home higher up the bed. He smirks, eyeing you in all your glory and with a single finger he points at your dress still pooled at your waist. You nod in understanding, discarding it without him having to say a single word. There was no more room for mistakes.

“This time when I say you only cum when I say so, I hope you listen,” He exhales as he stands up to unbuckle his pants. “Unless of course, you wish to be punished,” He smiles, devilishly so, as he unbuttons his shirt, tossing the tie onto the bed.

“N-no, I don’t,” You mumble, stuttering, unsure exactly what kind of punishment he meant. Did he mean punishment as in he would put a bullet in your skull or punishment as in a light spank on the ass? Though the latter sounds tempting, you’re not willing to find out just what he has in store for you in case of your disobedience. “I’ll be good,” You murmur, hypnotized when he rids himself of his pants and boxers, his cock slapping against his stomach.

“Will you?” He hums, hands wrapped around his member, groaning as he pumps himself a few times, precum leaking out of the tip. You watch, mesmerized, almost drooling as he pads over closer to you. “But you know, I can’t help but think I’m being too easy on you.”

You freeze in your spot, unsure of what to do next. Luckily for you, Taehyung does all the work. With his back sinking into the pillows, he pulls you onto his lap again but this time you’re facing him.

“See, this isn’t the first time. You’re always defiant, sassy, and I can’t count the number of times I’ve wanted to fuck you stupid when we were in the lounge just so you could understand who you were dealing with,” He hums, rubbing the head of his cock against your folds. You shiver, biting your lip as you could feel it just mere centimetres away from where you wanted it to be.

“Then do it,” You tease, hand slipping down to guide his length to your entrance because if he was going to leave you waiting for so long, he obviously needed help. Taehyung only laughs at that, slapping your hand away. He guides you onto your back, pinning your hands above your head as he leaves kisses down the valley of your breasts, only stopping because he can hear you release a shaky exhale.

“Oh, I will,” He smirks, pulling away to line up his cock to your pussy. He starts slow, teasing you as he rubs his cock against your core, groaning as your juices coated his length. You whine, about to demand him to do something but before you can say anything, he plunges into you, thrusting upwards in one swift motion, giving you no time to adjust to his size. You gasp, mouth hanging open as you let out a choked sob. “Baby, I’ll fuck you so good, so hard but only if you promise to listen.”

“I-I will,” You whimper, soft moans filling up the room as he rocks against you slowly.

“Good,” He mumbles before his tongue envelops one of your nipples. “Now keep your hands there. No touching until I say so.”

You only nod in response, barely able to hear him as your mind goes blank, his cock brushing against the spot that made your toes curl. Your body felt like it was on fire, his touch making you keen against him, his lips making your mind grow hazy.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” He groans, eyes screwed shut as he delivers on his promise, thrusting into you so hard that you could almost feel him in your throat. He lifts your legs up over his shoulder and god, you didn’t think he could make you feel any better but as he buries his cock into you to the hilt, you can only moan in return. Taehyung whines, meeting your tongue in a sloppy kiss, lips moving against yours with fervour. It takes everything in you to not reach out to tug at his hair, to pull him closer. You needed him, wanted him.

“Tae, I-I want—” You manage to choke out between kisses but he silences you with his lips.

“More?” He asks, laughing breathily as he pulls out halfway before he slams back into you. Your eyes roll back as he does it a few more times, rendering you silent apart from the long moans that leave you without your consent. “You’re a greedy little slut, aren’t you?”

“Tae,” You murmur, your walls clenching around him as he thrusts deeper, harder.

“Don’t do that, baby. Not yet,” He warns, slipping a thumb into your mouth. You nod, tongue wrapping around it as you suck. Fuck, you were driving him insane. His other hand holds onto your waist with a grip so tight you’re sure it’ll bruise tomorrow. You could care less, especially when he was making you feel this good. You could already feel it, the coil in your stomach being held together solely by your will threatening to release, your muscles tightening and Taehyung warns you once more when you clench around him yet another time.

“Be good,” He grumbles, his grip on your waist tightening and you wail, nodding as you focus on keeping yourself together. You lace your hands through his hair, finding purchase on whatever you can, as if doing any of that could help you from falling apart.

“What did I say about touching?” Taehyung growls, as he pulls away from you, your pussy clenching at the sudden emptiness. Your eyes snap open, eyebrows tucked together in worry as Taehyung sighs, reaching for his tie at the end of the bed.

“S-sorry, I was just trying to—”

Taehyung isn’t interested in your excuses. He flips you over, almost as if you weighed nothing, quickly pinning your hands behind your back.

“Since you have trouble listening, let me help you,” He mumbles, using his necktie to tie your hands together, the soft silk digging into your wrists as he double knots it. He huffs, lifting you by the waist so you were now on your knees, the side of your face still pressed to the mattress. “I knew I was being too easy on you,” He mumbles, hand splayed over your ass that was now on show for him. Without warning, he brings his hand down harshly onto the flesh of your ass, making you tuck your lips between your teeth, partially muffling your moan.

“So, are you going to behave now?”

“Yes!” You cry, nodding into the sheets.

“No more chances,” Taehyung mumbles. “Next time you disobey me, I’m going to leave you high and dry, begging me to make you cum.”

You don’t even have the chance to say anything because Taehyung wastes no time, hand around your neck as his cock pushes past your folds, filling you up once again.

“Fuuuck,” You moan as he thrusts into you, his fat cock stretching you out deliciously. You clench your fists, wrists struggling against his necktie because all you wanted right now was to tug at his hair or dig your nails into his skin. God, he was driving you insane.

His hand around your neck isn’t there to choke you but more so he could find leverage to slam into you harder. You whimper and whine, legs threatening to give way with every time he thrusts into you.

“You don’t know how long I’ve thought about you like this,” He groans. “All pretty and obedient for me, moaning my name. So fucking good for me.”

The latter part of his sentence is punctuated by his thrusts, his arm wrapped around your centre helps hold you up as your thighs turn to jelly. His rhythm is sloppy now and you can tell he’s close just by the way he’s whining in your ear.

“Just for you,” You cry, as his hand slips down towards your clit, rubbing the nub with just the right pressure, making your head spin. Your sentence seems to spark something in Taehyung because he grips your neck tighter, quickening his pace.

“Fuck, baby you’re driving me crazy,” He grunts as you begin to lose control, your pussy clenching against his length, making the man lose his composure. “God, your pussy feels so good, so fucking wet and tight just for me.”

“L-let me cum, please,” You beg, almost sobbing as your toes curl up in pleasure. “Please, Tae, I c-can’t anymore.”

Taehyung grunts, pulling out all the way before he plunges back in, his following thrusts short and shallow as he struggles to keep a grip on you. He bucks his hip forward, hand grabbing your shoulder as your name comes out in the form of moans. From your spot, you can see his eyebrows tucked together, his face looking absolutely fucked out and god, you’d do anything to see him look like that again. He chases his high desperately, groaning long and hard before he jerks forward, his cock stuttering as his seed spills into you, your walls clenching around him. You whine, cussing as he brings you to your high, his fingers circling your clit, making your vision go white. As he comes down from his high, he thrusts into you, hitting the bundle of nerves inside you, hitting the spot that made you hold your breath.

“Pl-please, please, please, Taehyung, I need to cum,” You cry, wail almost as you feel the coil in your stomach grow even tighter.

“You want to cum?” He asks, grunting. You nod, whining as he picks up the pace. “Then be a good girl and cum all over my cock, baby.”

You swear you almost black out, your orgasm so intense that you can no longer hold yourself up, your limbs betraying you as you sink into the mattress, pussy pulsing as it clenches uncontrollably. Taehyung pulls out, flipping you over before his lips finds yours between your pants. His kisses are languid and soft, almost as if it’s an apology. His touch is gentle, cradling your cheeks as he kisses you senseless, sucking at your lips so you would part them for him. His free hand moves down to your pussy his fingers slowly gathering his cum that was spilling out just to push it back into you and you squirm under his hold, whimpering. He continues for a while, his fingers brushing over your clit every so often so he could hear you whine, asking him to stop as your pussy throbbed, feeling a tad bit sensitive.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asks as he undoes the necktie that holds your hands together. He frowns, hands smoothing over your wrists that have been rubbed raw. The question catches you off guard, his entire demeanour does. You’re pretty sure most guys do not treat their escorts this way.

“It’s fine, Taehyung. I-I liked it,” You mumble, eyes downcast. At that he smiles, grabbing the soft towel from the nearby table along with his blazer with him. He’s mostly quiet as he cleans you up. Of course he kind of sits there mesmerized as he watches his cum leak out of your pussy. Damn, you seriously don’t understand what you do to him.

Taehyung offers you his shirt before he puts on his boxers and you sit there, awkwardly buttoning his shirt because isn’t he supposed to leave now? Isn’t that how these things usually go? The men would come here, have their fun and leave immediately after. Why was he still here, lingering?

He soon returns to the bed, his hand reaching into the pockets of his blazer to pull out something. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as he produces two packets, a giant foot printed on each one. You stare it for a little longer before a dawn of realization hits you and you smile, immediately unwrapping the packet when he hands it to you.

“Oh my god, I love these. I almost forgot they existed,” You smile, pulling out the lollipop that was shaped in a foot before carefully dipping it back into the bottom of the packet that held the fizzy powder. “It’s so hard to find them nowadays.”

“Yeah, you can only get them at those really old family owned sundry shops now,” He smiles, unwrapping his own one.

“Seriously, I love this candy so much,” You laugh. “It brings me back to my childhood.”

Taehyung only grins as he makes himself comfortable among the pillows. He beckons you over by patting the spot next to him.

“You know, this sort of feels like it’s meant to console me. Like a hey, you were bad in bed but here, have a lollipop! It’ll make you feel better,” You laugh and Taehyung blushes.

“Th-That’s not what I meant by giving you this lollipop. If anything you’re leagues better than the 3/10 that you think you are.”

“Well, what was your intention then?”

“Nothing really,” He hums. “It’s just that I’m a man of my word is all.”

18 years ago

“It’s not that bad really,” You assure the boy that’s crying in front of you. “It doesn’t hurt one bit,” You smile, wiping the blood away from your lips.

You’re lying. It hurts… a lot and you kind of regret standing up to the bullies but you weren’t just going to sit back and watch those older boys beat up that same little kid again.

“I’m so sorry,” He mumbles, sobbing. “Next time you shouldn’t try to help.”

“I can’t leave you alone like that,” You frown. “They’re just being big meanies. You didn’t even do anything wrong.”

The boy sighs. You’re as stubborn as an ox. How could you not see that this was a losing battle? They were going to bully him forever. He was an easy target, the poor boy with tattered clothes and no money for food. He just came to the playground to escape from the constant fights his parents would have. He just wanted one moment of peace, and if not the playground, he had nowhere else to go. It was better than home anyway. Even if he got beat up here, at least he would get his moment of peace whenever he laid in the sand box alone, sobbing. At least there was no shouting here once the sun begins to set.

“Oh, my mum’s here,” You hum, breaking the boy out of the trance he was in. “Come on!” You smile, grabbing him by the hand, leading him to your mother.

“What the— Y/N, what happened?” Your mother questions, panicked.

“Well, we—,” You point to yourself and then to the boy next to you. “—stood up to the bullies!”

Your mother sighs, crouching down to inspect your split lip. She can only shake her head as you give her a grin, wincing in pain when you smile too wide.

“And you, oh sweetheart,” She mumbles, softly turning to see his face littered with bruises. “Where are your parents?”

“Busy fighting, throwing things at each other,” The boy answers honestly.

Your mother hums, gulping nervously.

“What’s your name?”

“Kim,” He answers easily with his last name that he shares with thousands of people. His father had told him not to give out his full name. Especially since there’s an order out to kidnap a Kim Taehyung. The mafia needed some leverage so that his father would actually pay back his debt.

“O-okay, Kim,” Your mother smiles. “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

“Can I?” He asks, absolutely beaming at the thought of finally being able to eat a hot meal.

“Sure, what would you like to have? Y/N here likes— Where’d she go? Y/N—”

Your mother only grumbles to herself as she watches you run back towards her, two little packets in your hand.

“I told you to stop running off like that,” Your mother frowns.

“But he was going to leave,” You mumble, pointing to the ice-cream man who’s packing up his cart, putting away the assorted candies he sold along with his ice-cream. “Here,” You smile, handing a packet to the boy. He inspects it with furrowed eyebrows, twisting the packet with a large foot printed on it.

Your obsession with the weirdly shaped lollipop honestly drives your mother crazy. It certainly didn’t help that it was not the easiest candy to find.

“It tastes funny,” The boy mumbles, noting that the candy fizzes in his mouth. “And it’s sour,” He murmurs, face scrunching up at the taste. “But I like it.”

“Exactly! It’s the best!” You smile, dipping the lollipop back into the packet to pick up some more powder.

Your mother takes the both of you by the hand, leading you two to a nearby restaurant. She picks the place because she’s had a long day and she really just wants a good plate of fried rice to heal her soul. She notes the Kim boy is rather quiet, but in your presence, he seems to light up. Shame, she sighs. It’s nice that you were getting along so well with this kid, but you and your mother are moving away to another town in just a few days. Moreover, it didn’t quite sit well with her that the boy had said some rather disturbing things about his home life… and the fact that he was being bullied daily at the playground, that hurt her heart too. But, it was hard taking care of you alone. She didn’t really need more to worry about, in fact she couldn’t afford it.

“You sure you’ll be okay walking home?” Your mother asks, as the three of you stand outside the restaurant.

“Yes.”

“We can walk you home if you would just let us know where it is.”

“My parents really don’t like me giving out our address to strangers,” He mumbles, staring at his feet.

“Okay,” Your mother hums. “You be safe, alright?”

Taehyung nods, ready to walk away when you stop him, making him stand there as you tug at your mother’s sleeve, making her crouch down so you could whisper in her ear.

“Please,” You beg, hands clasped together as your mother gives you a pointed look after having heard your request. She sighs before she nods and digs into her purse for her wallet. The grin you have on when she hands you the money is truly precious.

“Here, take this,” You smile, handing the boy the $20 your mother had just given you. “Don’t let those stupid boys hurt you anymore a-and get yourself something nice to eat tomorrow.”

“Y/N,” He says, dumbfounded, staring at the bill in his hand.

“Oh and here,” You grin, putting the lollipop packet in his hand. “I was saving this for later but I think you should have it.”

“Y/N,” He repeats in the same tone, still in shock. He knows he should say something along the lines of no, I can’t take any of this but the truth is… he wanted both of those things in his hands badly.

“I’ll see you around Kim,” You mumble as you wave at him, walking backwards to your mum who’s waiting further ahead.

“I… I promise I’ll get you this when I have money next time!” He shouts, holding up the packet. “I’ll pay you back 100 times the amount,” He says, pointing at the $20.

“You promise?”

“I promise!”

Taehyung is a man of his word, always has been and always will be. It’s why when you go to drop off your monthly installment for the debt your father owes, they inform you that with the amount you had just paid, you had completely cleared the debt. They tell you that they were surprised to receive the money you mailed in last week and the truth is, so are you but you only nod nonchalantly. You make sure to get the proper documentation from them, to confirm that they were absolutely certain that your account has been cleared. You walk out of there with a nice little slip with their insignia and a gang member’s signature that verifies that the debt has been paid in full. You laugh to yourself, absolutely grateful for their miscalculation or rather, mismanagement. You actually had hundreds and thousands left to pay but hey, you’re not going to tell them that. God, you can’t wait to tell Taehyung what dumbasses his rivals are.

*bonus*

check out this ask for extras like how tae knew it was oc and if he ever tells her that he’s the little boy she helped out!

A/N: as always, thanks for reading and feedback is always welcome!!! (: also this was meant to be a drabble… i swear… but u kno meeeee

#bts smut #taehyung smut #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #taehyung fluff

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aeondeug · 4 years ago

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There’s a lot of things that I felt while reading the end of the comic. The one thing that really hit me hardest in the emotional feels though was Ichigo managing this sort of perfect mix of his power sets and combining them together. And when Orihime looks at him and is scared because of the like whole Vasto Lorde stabbed Uryu incident he tells her that it’s ok. He is still him. And then he proceeds to go on this explanation of like. How the powers come from his specific family backgrounds and he wasn’t able to meld them together before but now he can. He isn’t great at it yet, he admits that too. But he can mix them and all and isn’t afraid of them.

I’m mixed. Specifically I fall into that lovely european hell stew thing on one half and then the other half it’s Mexican. I grew up and still live in an environment where it is regularly told to me that Mexicans aren’t really people. That we’re somehow monstrous or animalistic. We show up as drug dealers, gang members, overly sexualized women who are seductive as hell and down to fuck in media. When we’re talked about by papers, writers use words like “hunt” when talking about us. And casually people just talk about how we’re stupid, angry, sexist, and so on and so forth. Just like as casual ass conversation.

This is a very easy environment to grow like a sense of intense self loathing in. And a violent denial of what one is. I read a story recently written by Kim Sa-Ryang recently for a class called Into the Light. Kim Sa-Ryang being a Zainichi, a Korean living in Japan, writer. In it there’s this kid named Haruo. His mom’s Zainichi. His dad, people think, mainland Japanese. When she gets in the hospital people talk about that. Just talk loudly about the fact that his mom’s Korean. The kid starts crying and shouts “That’s a lie! My mom’s not Korean!” and he turns to his teacher, also Korean, and begs him “I’m not Korean! I’m not! Tell him, Mr. Minami!” And that just hits me. Really hard. Because that’s what I was like as a kid. That sort of self hatred and denial.

Which takes us back to Bleach. Bleach we’ve got like. Ichigo being nervous about or in denial about the whole hollow inside him thing. It’s a tough topic. A thing he kind of hates. Which makes sense. It’s very spooky and this whole time hollows have kind of like been things he’s fighting and they’re like angry and violent. They’re not evil. They’re people who need help and he helps them. But they’re still emotions just run absolutely rampant. And he has to take time getting over this. Incorporating it. And even at the end of Arrancar he hasn’t perfectly figured it out. And we learn that this all comes from his father and the soul realer half of his family. And this is a thing he only learns in his teens.

But then he learns another thing. He’s also in his late teens when he learns that his mother was a Quincy. Literally no one told him about this. It’s just a thing he learns later. He knew about the like trauma that the Quincies have as a whole and the genocide they went through because of Uryu. But it’s been a sort of distant thing. And now he’s learning oh actually you’re a Quincy too and like your mom has this complicated thing going on with how she was raised. Because of what she is. This all just kind of being dumped in an arc where the ancestral father of the Quincies has gone “Oh yeah I like rule all Quincies and have weird blood based mind control basically yo”.

I said, again. That I’m mixed. The rest is a european stew and most of that is like something I am extremely disconnected from. With one exception. And that one is the Ukrainian side of the family. Growing up I didn’t really know about this much. The word “Ukrainian” was used but was never talked in any more detail than like “Oh we’re part Scottish, family is from Nova Scotia too”. But like in terms of things that we’ve got foodwise. A lot of it’s Ukrainian foods. Things like pierogi, cabbage rolls, etc. We had weird things about food. We always had more food than anyone else. We had a particular love of imperishables in specific and hoarded those. There was a strong emphasis on not wasting any food. Extremely strong. And we’re always eating. Always. Think Kyoko from Madoka levels of constantly snacking. We also hated Russia and communists. This I didn’t think much of because most Americans do. But like. My family had and still has a particularly strong hatred for it. One that when I compare it to like general worries burns far, far hotter.

I learned, in my teens, that my family went to Canada. I learned when they did. And I was able to finally piece two and two together with that whole Holodomor thing. The Ukrainian genocide by the USSR. No one told me about this. That we were refugees. It was just a thing I learned much later on in life. Just like oh wow huh. We’ve got like this generational trauma thing that literally no one talked about. Something that’s just dropped in my lap later on in life and I have to figure out how to cope with this sudden new info of like “Oh yeah by the way we were almost murdered by a genocidal regime that happened and that’s why we collect cans of food.”

So we have this moment of Ichigo perfectly synthesizing those two halves. The spooky, scary monster but it isn’t actually monstrous half from his father. The suddenly learned in your late teens that your family were victims of a genocide side from his mother. And he combines them together. He admits that he’s still not too good at things. That he’s still figuring things out. But he’s able to look at them both head on. He’s able to figure out how they interact. How to combine them together. Because he’s both. He’s both and he’s still him and being both is part of why he’s him and why he’s still him.

Given like my life. My experience. This hits really hard. It means a lot. I do get why people go “Oh well it’s just bullshit. Ichigo is just all these things already and then he learns that he’s also a Quincy? What the fuck!” Because like, yes, it does seem very “Oh look how special he is” and it does get used to give him special super powers. But I look at it and I just see me. The person having to untangle weird fucked up self hatred towards one part of me. The person having to untangle that so much of my behavior draws back to this trauma no one felt I had any need to know about. And the person who has to find out how to meld that all together and to accept it all.

At some point I’d like to look into this more formally. Less personally. Grabbing stuff from the comic. Pointing out how Ichigo just assumed he was like just Japanese. Talking about that with quotes and stuff and bringing other works and writers and what not. But for now I suppose this will do. Ichigo’s a mixed kid. And one whose ultimate power comes from untangling that all and melding it together. That means things to me.

#bleach

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out-of-jams · 5 years ago

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Airplane Mode | Track 11: Blue Side | jhs

Summary: Set in the same universe as Love at First Touch by bagelswrites.

In a world where a bruise marks the first touch of your soulmate, time is the only thing that matters. The marks take hours to appear, sometimes even days if you're really unlucky. Once First Touch is initiated, both parties only have a few weeks to find the other. From then on, the body begins to reject any form of sustenance other than the touch of the other. If one fails to find their soulmate, they starve to death.

So what happens when your soulmate is an internationally famous idol?

And you're just one fan in a sea of many who can't even speak the same language.

Pairing: Hoseok x Fem Character

Word Count: 2.3k

Genre: Fluff. Angst. Idol!au. Smut. Soulmate!au.

Warnings: Explicit language (you already know).

Words written like this are spoken in Korean.

It was warm. Humid.

The moisture hanging in the air turned Eunjae’s lungs into a cage of steam, but she didn’t pay it any mind. Not with the way hot water poured over her skin, thundering against the shower walls and drenching her hair until it stuck like glue. To her, to the shower curtain that coudn’t seem to stay still, to her waterlogged lashes.

And it burned. Not necissarily in a bad way. But in a way that distracted her from the thoughts that plagued her mind on an endless loop.

Eunjae had been fine all day. But that was probably because she’d been so busy that she hadn’t managed to get a second to herself. Not even when she’d met with Hoseok for a quick “lunch.” (They really needed to come up with a better name for skin touch.) Hell, she’d even been fine with listening to Tiffany boss her around for the rest of the afternoon.

It wasn’t until Eunjae got home, until nothing but empty silence greeted her at the door, that she finally crashed back down to reality. She was good at that--ignoring things, problems, anything that brought her stress. And she had a really bad habit of pushing things to the side until they built up so high that they flooded over her walls like a tsunami.

And it always hit so unexpectantly. One minute she was fine, but then the next, something small or inconsequiential would trigger her into a mental breakdown. How it hadn’t happened already was a mystery to her. With all of the stress of moving to a new country where she didn’t even speak the language, and leaving behind everything she knew and loved. Add in the fact that her soulmate was an international superstar who had to hide her like a dirty little secret.

Not that she blamed Hoseok. None of it was his fault. But Eunjae wasn’t used to being hidden.

To being so completely and utterly alone.

The cool, slippery shower wall greeted her forehead as she leaned against it, eyes closed against the torrential downpour of water. It did well to mix with the salty trail of tears ghosting her cheeks and washing down the drain like a phantom. And the quiet sobs that racked her frame blended with the sound of the shower curtain catching the water in a song of silent chaos.

Everything was hitting her at once and it was so god damned overwhelming.

Eunjae felt stuck, trapped in a steel cage that she couldn’t escape from. She didn’t dislike the boys, not at all. But there were so many factors that were out of her control. Snatched away before she had time to process what the hell was going on. And maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, wouldn’t be so completely and utterly unberable if she wasn’t so alone .

Sure, Hoseok was her soulmate. But he didn’t know her, not really. They barely knew each other at all. And that was the problem. There was only one person who knew Eunjae for who she really was: her faults, her secrets, her dreams. But Miles wasn’t there. He was thousands of miles away where her problems couldn’t reach.

Somehow he always knew the perfect solution to whatever troubled her mind, but he wasn’t there . And she couldn’t call him, couldn’t wake him up to bug him with her issues when she knew that he had a lot going on already.

So she dealt with it in the only way she could.

By hanging onto the shower wall like it was an old friend.

She was used to keeping her pain to herself, to crying alone in a steam filled bathroom where no one could hear her. Because she didn’t like to shed the smile that she wore like a mask to show the vulnerable girl underneath. Eunjae couldn’t stand the feeling of baring her soul for people to look at.

So she stood there and let the water hit her skin until it turned cold and the salty tears behind her eyes turned into a burning ache. She hated crying too, but the calm it brought afterwards gave her a certain solace that she wouldn’t have been able to find otherwise. And as she twisted the knob to turn the water off and stepped out of the shower, the blurred lines of her reflection stared back at her in the mirror.

It was foggy, the steam making it almost impossible to see more than a few feet in front of her. But that was okay, because she didn’t need to look anyway. Eunjae knew she always looked like a hot mess after crying, with red rimmed eyes and rosy cheeks. So she just towled off, got dressed, and ran a brush through her waist length, tangled hair.

At least the overbearing pressure was gone from her chest and she didn’t quite feel like she was drowning anymore. Everything was fine again. Until she walked out in the hallway and bumped face first into someone’s chest.

The electrifying current that shot through her body confirmed what she didn’t have to lift her head to see. But Eunjae did anyway, whether out of habit or because of the gentle pair of hands that held onto her shoulders to prevent her from falling, she didn’t know.

Her gaze met brown eyes so soft that it threatened to flood her own with tears again.

Wordlessly, Hoseok turned her by his tender grip on her shoulders and led her back down the hallway towards the living room. The warmth bleeding from his body and into hers did little to barricade the embarassment that flooded Eunjae’s veins. She hadn’t intended for him to see her like that.

Why he was even there was a mystery to her. It was late at night, she knew that much. Though time seemed to meld together into a mindless blur. There was something about crying late at night that made a person feel disconnected from the world, like time was at a standstill.

The soft cushions of the couch met the bare skin exposed by Eunjae’s shorts and she took a moment to send a silent thank you to herself for remembering to wear some. Hoseok’s body heat refused to leave her chilled skin as he sat down beside her, the cushion dipping with his added weight.

“Jae.”

Eunjae’s head shot up to meet Hoseok’s tender stare. That was the first time he’d ever shortened her name and it caught her by surprise. His gaze held hers steadily, tongue wetting his lips in preparation for his next words. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her response left her lips with an automated quickness and had Hoseok raising his eyebrows.

“I heard.”

Now it was her turn to raise her brows with fake noncholance. “Heard what?”

“Jae.” His hand shot out to catch her chin when she tried to turn away. And the serious look that overtook his face drew the fight out of her like a punctured tire.

How the hell he always managed to see straight through her was something that Eunjae would like the answer to. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t something that she was used to. And so, with his fingers still heating her skin, all she could do was break his hard stare to look somewhere over his shoulder.

A moment of silence passed. And then another in which he sat there patiently and waited her out. Until she finally opened her mouth and told him what was wrong in the simplest way she could. One that required the least amount of soul baring for her to still get her point across.

“I miss home.”

“New York?” Eunjae wasn’t sure if his question was rhetorical, or if he was jsut clarifying what she meant, but she nodded anyway. And he trapped one of her hands in both of his, though that still did nothing to goad her into looking in his direction. “What do you miss?”

Eunjae didn’t need Hoseok to elaborate to understand what he meant. “Everything? I don’t know. My friends, my family. Everything.”

“You feel...alone?” Hoseok was perceptive. So-much-so that it was a little scary.

“A little.”

Hoseok looked conflicted. Though not in a frustrated sort of way, no, it probably had more to do with the fact that they couldn’t communicate clearly with each other. And he didn’t know how to translate what it was that he wanted to say for her to understand him and vice versa. But he tried anyway.

“I..,” he layed a palm against his chest, resporting to getting his point across with gestures instead of words. “Am here.”

And finally, finally, Eunjae lifted her gaze to meet his earnest one and his mouth pulled up in a smile so gentle. “For you.”

Eunjae would be lying if she said that his words didn’t spark something within her chest. If it didn’t bring her some sort of consolation. She knew that Hoseok meant what he said, even though there was still a barrier between them. Because at the end of the day, they were still strangers.

“I know that now.”

But maybe they didn’t have to be.

And his hand squeezing her own spoke of his voiceless agreement. “Good.”

A moment of silence passed through the air, but it wasn’t awkward or tense or anything. No, it was filled with a certain something that felt like comfort. Like the invisible barrier between them was beginning to dwindle. And Eunjae was reluctant to break the moment, but she had to know.

“What were you doing here anyway?” At his inquisitive look, she elaborated. “Before I got out of the shower.”

Hoseok made a sound of realization, like he’d just remembered something important. “Movie night?”

“Movie night?” Eunjae’s mouth twitched, threatening to break into her first smile of the night.

“Yes! Movie night!” And Hoseok mirrored her tiny smile with one of his own. “Bangtan is having.”

Eunjae still wasn’t sure what that had to do with him paying her a visit. Had he wanted to sate his hunger beforehand? “Oh?”

Hoseok stood from the couch then, but he didn’t move away, didn’t leave her behind. Instead, he turned to look down at her with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows and tiny dimples. “You come with?”

It was an invitation, though not just to watch movies. And Eunjae knew that, could see it in the way he outstreched his hand towards her like he already knew the answer, but waited anyway. She could feel it in the way that his fingers closed around hers when she placed her hand in his. Because he wasn’t just inviting her to watch movies.

No, it was so much more than that. And it was something that didn’t need to be said aloud.

Hoseok’s presence walking beside her own brought Eunjae a certain comfort that she couldn’t describe. Maybe it was the fact that she’d let him see a vulnerable piece of her, or perhaps it was the bond that settled between them like electric static. Whatever it was, she was grateful to have him there.

Grateful for the door the Bangtan’s dorm that he held open for her in a silent invitation. And it wasn’t just an invitation inside the apartment, no, it was so much more.

Shouts greeted them as they passed through the threshold leading into the living room and Eunjae had absolutely zero time to prepare herself for Taehyung to throw himself at her. His arms encircled her waist before she could react and lifted her straight off her feet.

“Jae-yah!” Taehyung’s baritone voice pierced her eardrums and he didn’t even bother with setting her down. He just carried her over to the crowded looking couch like she was a little kid who couldn’t walk on her own.

Eunjae stated such, but Taehyung merely pretended like he couldn’t understand her. So all she could do was dangle in his arms like a limp piece of soggy bread. And with the loud voices of the rest of Bangtan all fighting to speak over one another, Jimin scooted over on the shorter end of the L-shaped couch. With his body pressed against the armrest, he greeted her with an enthusiastic, “Jae-yah!” as Taehyung dropped her in the now empty space.

“What are we watching?” Eunjae’s question caught Namjoon’s attention from the opposite end of the couch.

He wiggled the remote in his hands. “Avengers. The first one.”

Before Namjoon could even think of continuing, Jungkook poked his head up from his seat on the floor where he’d been digging around in a bag of what looked like snacks to look up at her. “You are...fan?”

He spoke slowly, taking the time to enunciate each word and it brought a smile to Eunjae’s face before she could think to stop it. “A fan of Marvel? Who isn’t?”

The response tore a bunny-like smile from the younger boy as he threw his arms up. “Yes!”

And as someone turned off the lights and Namjoon fast-forwarded straight to the dvd menu, Eunjae caught Hoseok’s eyes from across the room. He sat sandwiched between Yoongi and Seokjin, and he sent her an inconspicuous wiggle of his eyebrows. And as she did absolutely nothing to hide her playful eyeroll, it hit her.

Maybe, just maybe, here could feel like home too.

#bts #bts fic #hoseok #bangtanarmynet #btsbookclub #hoseok fic

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cxhnow · 4 years ago

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Chloe x Halle's Transformation Into Elite R&B Superstars Begins Now

The metamorphosis of Chloe and Halle Bailey has been a sight to behold. The sisters have been growing -- as women and musicians -- in front of the world for the past several years, first entering the spotlight through evocative cover songs uploaded to YouTube in the early 2010s. Signed to Parkwood Entertainment by Beyoncé in 2015 as teenagers, the artists have become well known for their ethereal vocals, which meld effortlessly.

As singers, songwriters, and producers, much of the work Chloe x Halle have released has come directly from their minds, mouths, and fingertips. Their hands-on approach has led to a body of imaginative material that is easily traced back to them, and only them.

In their early work, the siblings tackled topics that any young person would be able to relate to, such as harmless flirtations. “Boys texting me and begging me to see ‘em/ You can’t schedule an appointment with a queen like me,” Halle sang coquettishly on “Too Much Sauce” from 2017’s The Two of Us.

On their latest effort, Ungodly Hour, released in June, the duo is done playing dating games. “You ain’t gotta tell me what it is/ ‘Cause I saw the messages/ You must got me f--ked up/ You must got me f--ked up / I think I had enough,” Chloe sings bluntly on “Forgive Me.”

But the project isn’t just about relationships and situationships. The lead single, “Do It,” is a spirited vibe about the power of friendship and the appeal of being flexible with life’s adventures. From top to bottom, Ungodly Hour is presented as a declaration of evolution. The statement made by Chloe, 22, and Halle, 20, is one that points toward matured perspectives on love, womanhood, and artistry.

Billboard spoke to Chloe x Halle about “Do It” debuting on the Hot 100, what it’s like developing their craft under Beyoncé’s tutelage, and how it feels to be Black women artists in a climate where Black people are constantly in the news, for better or worse.

Can you explain what your album title means, contextually?

Chloe: Ungodly Hour, for us, represents loving every layer of ourselves, because you have your good side, your naughty side, all of these different things that make you who you are. I feel like the world is used to knowing the really sweet side of us, and that’s because we don’t really share our personal lives. So we really wanted to share that through the music. The phrase of the title track, it literally says “Love me at the ungodly hour.” It’s saying, “Love me not only when I’m at my best, but also my worst.” We feel like that wrapped up what the entire album means.

The sound of this project is both cohesive and varied. It weaves in and out of itself expertly, but also unpredictably. I know you do a lot of your own work, but how did you work with producers to achieve that?

Halle: Whenever it comes to us making a project, it’s very easy for my sister and I to collaborate with one another. We just know each other like the back of our hands, so we can be honest with each other. The music just naturally writes and produces itself. When it comes to collaborating with other producers, I would say we’re very open -- but also picky. We love to work with people we’re actually fans of.

For this album, some of the producers we worked with are Scott Storch, who is an angel inside and out, and also Sounwave, who does a lot of stuff with Kendrick Lamar, as well as Disclosure, which was really fun to work with them for the first time. A realized pattern in all of these amazing producers is they’re all such kind and genuine souls inside and out. We just love to collaborate with people who have the same kind of mindset as we do.

But when it comes to a majority of the production, my sister does that in her sleep. We really take ownership in writing and producing everything that we do because it’s our story to tell intimately, and everybody else should just be there to help enhance.

Do you feel like being so hands-on with your own music and creative output makes your evolution that much more critical?

Chloe: I definitely feel that because we put our complete souls into our music, and we as human beings are growing every day, that’s just naturally how the music grows with us. We used to put this unspoken pressure on ourselves, when it comes to making music and ways we could kind of level up and constantly get better, which is the case for us still.

But I think my mindset has kind of shifted more to making music that makes me happy, music that gives me chills, because I am such a big music lover and fan myself, first. So as long as I love the music and we’re allowing ourselves to create the way we’re meant to, that’s all I could ever ask for. We’re growing as women every day -- we’re learning about love and heartbreak and hardships. Of course that will help evolve the music, because we're learning about new experiences.

Let’s talk about “Do It.” It’s such a bop; I love everything about it. How did you decide it was single material? Was it made intentionally for that purpose?

Halle: “Do It” came about very, very naturally. We worked with this beautiful woman named Victoria Monét who we had known for about a year before working with her. We had always heard about her, and heard how much of an amazing writer she was. We went to her birthday party, kind of just feeling each other out before we got into a session. The session was such a fun session.

Whenever you’re working with another Black woman who is a writer, it’s amazing because you feel like you’re connecting as sisters, in a way. Especially with the content and material of this song, it’s very party-ish vibes, “I’m out with my girls, and we’re going to have a good time.” So that was very much the energy that was in the studio when we were making it.

As well as Scott Storch, the amazing producer on “Do It,” he is a legend in this game, so we were honored that he got to produce this record for us and just once again make something that feels so good and upbeat. It was a great time. We were really happy with how it turned out, but we surprised ourselves because we didn’t know it would be the single until, I think, a few weeks later. We were listening back and were like, “Oh! This one is really good.”

“Do It” debuted on the Hot 100 at No. 83, and it’s your first entry on the chart. Congratulations! How are y’all feeling about that?

Chloe: It feels absolutely, absolutely amazing. We make music just because we love it. Anything that comes out of that, charting or any awards or anything, is so surprising and exciting for us, because that’s not why we do this. But it’s such a big reward and pat on the back when it does happen, so we’re so grateful. I’m still so happy that people are even listening to the music because we were holding onto it for so long, just listening to it with ourselves on our computers. It’s still surreal that the music is even out.

What has it been like growing up in front of the world?

Halle: I think growing up in the limelight where everybody can sort of see you has definitely been an interesting world for us. We’re just two Southern girls from Atlanta, Ga., and our parents have always instilled in us values that are so important to us, like staying humble and being kind, and just keeping these values always throughout our life, no matter how successful we get or not. So when everybody has been like, “Well, how do you feel after all of this success?” In a way, we still are in disbelief.

We still are kind of really shocked that all of these beautiful blessings are happening for us. We’re so very grateful. But at the same time, I also have to bring myself back to Earth a lot of the time, and remind myself that yes, that is an amazing accomplishment, but the world is so big and there are other amazing, important things in the world that are going on right now. Sometimes being a celebrity-ish version of yourself is not the most important thing.

I think how I deal with growing up with people looking at me is just remembering I’m completely as normal as they are. I am the same girl from Atlanta, the same 5-year-old who just loved jazz, just loved to sing and bring some love and peace and healing with my voice. And to do whatever I can with that, I just have to not let all of the opinions of others get in my head. I just focus on why I do this, because I love it.

Did Beyoncé give you any transitional advice, as you grow with your music?

Chloe: One thing she told us very early on is, "Don’t worry about dumbing yourself down for the world — let the world catch up to you." So that piece of information has honestly been very vital for us, as we have been growing into our artistry every single day.

I appreciate Beyoncé because she lets us flourish on our own, and lets us create on our own and bring everything that we have to offer to the table. Once we feel like we’ve gotten it at a very strong place, that’s when we’ll present it to her and that’s when she’ll hear it and give us notes, if she has any.

I would just have to say that seeing how hands-on she is with her own music, and seeing how she is a fantastic business woman, it is so inspiring to my sister and I as young Black women because one day, we want to take over our own empire, as well. And if we could ever even get half of what she has accomplished, then we’ve done our job.

Every day, we just want to work harder and harder and continue to raise the bar with ourselves. Truly, the only competition you could really have is yourself, and as long as we’re growing every day, that’s all we could ask for.

What keeps you coming back to doing cover songs?

Halle: I feel like covers are a bit like our home. We’ve always loved singing other people’s songs and putting our own twists on it. That’s something that has always brought us great joy, because if we’re not recording ourselves singing it, we’re still singing the songs around the house. So we might as well record it and let other people see it, too. That’s a way of just going back home and pinching ourselves again, singing our inspirations’ songs like Lauryn Hill and TLC and Beyoncé, all of these amazing women, especially, who we just love. It’s really nice to sing their songs and be reminded of why we love music so much, and why we do this.

I know you postponed the release of this album out of respect for the Black Lives Matter movement. What does it mean for you to be Black women trying to create something great for the world in this climate?

Chloe: It honestly is the most empowering feeling because each day, I’m reminded of the strength that our ancestors had, and it gives me fuel to want to be the best version of myself. Because of them, I’m here today, and my sister and I can be the sole creators and be the head of what we create and what we want people to hear from us. That’s because of them. With everything happening right now, the Black Lives Matter movement, of course that affects us. This isn’t anything new for us, because we have always been Black women.

Growing up, we were young Black girls. We have witnessed things. The world is just now catching up and noticing how wrong it has been for years and years and years. But there is power in underestimation, and our people have been underestimated for so long, but we prove them wrong every time: that we are powerful, that we are great, that we will continue to rise from the ashes. I feel empowered as a young Black woman taking charge. And I hope I’m making our whole bloodline proud. [x]

#chloexhalle #chloe x halle #chloe and halle #chloeandhalle #chloe bailey #halle bailey #2020 #ungodly hour #ungodly hour interviews #interviews #july 2020 #july 7 2020 #do it #victoria monet #billboard #billboard magazine

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Dragon Dancer IV: Eye of the Tiger

As the golden light dimmed in Mingfei’s eyes, the servitor beasts also faded. Their bodies turned to shadows and they melted into the surrounding dark of this rainy night. Mingfei staggered as though released by something that held him. He shook his head, staring into space, his eyes searching for me.

My pulse was racing. I was trembling. I didn’t know what I should say or do. Was he himself? Or was he still the dominating killer of a few moments ago? My eyes shifted to Mingze who stood silently watching me before turning on his heel and walking away.

Mingfei appeared to be himself, sighing wearily. “I didn’t want you to see that.”

He walked over and knelt next to me. I moved my sleeve. It was soaked with blood from the puncture wound of the Servitor’s vertebral spine. “What was that?”

“It’s a trick.” He glanced up at me. “Do... do you mind? Can I see it?”

“Oh.” I lifted my shirt to show the injury. “Is it bad?”

“No. You’re still a high purity hybrid even in the dream world. You’ll heal up in about an hour or so. It’s not bleeding too bad. Just keep pressure on it.”

He put my arm back to my stomach and held it there, adding his strength to mine.

I stared at him for a little longer, the questions piling up behind my lips. “What sort of trick was it? We can’t use Soul Skills here...”

“It’s not a Soul Skill. It’s a memory. Before you came to Cassel, Chu Zihang, Fingel and I were assigned a special dragonslaying mission. I was still new so I wasn’t confident. Plus, I was going through a few things. I ended up playing all night at a Internet Cafe where I met a classmate.”

He sighed. “Long story short, she ended up in this alley way with a bunch of hoodlums. I tried to save her... and got beaten up instead.”

“I was pretty badly hurt when Mingze came. I wouldn’t....want to say he came to my ‘rescue’ because this was a trap for me. But before I could do anything he’d... melded with me.”

“Melded?” I asked.

“Yeah. He granted me one percent of his power.”

“And this cost you a quarter of your life?”

“No. It was... I guess you could call it a free sample. Anyway... I beat up the guys. The bad thing was...” His eyes grew distant. His breath shuddered. He shook his head. “Anyway, I got really freaked out.”

“I bet.” I replied in a soft voice. “So... You’re reliving that memory. He melded with you again or...? I mean those guys now weren’t just ordinary thugs. But you took them down like they were nothing.”

“Don’t think too much about it. Here.” He crouched down, turning his back to me. “Let me carry you. I know where this is going.”

I clung to his shoulders and he tucked his arms under my knees. He was wobbly for a moment but soon we were on our way towards a subway entrance.

“It’s important not to follow him too much. Everything he does is trying to get me to sell my soul to him. He’s showing me memories probably to remind me how good it feels to have this sort of strength... so that when the pressure is on, I’ll give up. So whatever he says, it’s better to just respond with nonsense or ignore it. Okay?”

“Okay, Senpai!”

“Heh... you haven’t called me that in a while. You’ve grown to surpass me. Just like I always thought you would.”

As we descended into the subway platform, I rested my head against his broad warm back. He told me not to think about it, but my mind worked too fast. Those monsters were stronger than thugs. Mingfei had not ‘melded’ with Mingze. So how did he get that power to defeat those servitors? He twisted that servitor’s neck like it was a hapless chicken. Not even Chu Zihang was capable of that.

The memory of our conversation on the deck of the garbage vessel came back to me. Mingfei, fearful that he was a dragon king, wanted to run away.

I had asked if it was so bad... being a dragon king. But now with Cassell banging at the door, if Mingfei turned out to be one... he would be killed immediately and I would be asked to pull the trigger. What would I do?

Mingfei had warned me back then that two of the Dragon Kings he slew were his personal friends. He sank that sorrow into the deep wells of his heart and carried those secrets in an impressive silence. I imagined Mingfei as a raging dragon and felt my face get hot.

“You’ll always be Senpai.” I whimpered.

“Hey... what’s with that tone? Cheer up!”

We reached the edge of the platform and he jumped down into the tracks, walking into a pitch black tunnel. It was extremely silent with only the sounds of dripping water echoing like windchimes and the sound of our own sighs as we made our way through, stepping double time.

The moisture and the chill of the underground made tremble and I held on tighter, partly for comfort and partly for warmth, and partly because I feared this might be the last time I would be with my dearest friend.

“Why don’t you sing a happy song?”

A tear, hot against my cold face, soaked his shirt. “Happy song?”

“Yeah... something to get us pumped up?” There was a tremor in his voice in the dark.

“Okay uh...”

My voice was shaking and rough but I squeaked out the melody to ‘Eye of the Tiger’

Rising up, back on the street Did my time, took my chances Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet Just a man and his will to survive

“Hey! That’s what I’m talking about. Keep it up Meixiu!”

I didn’t really feel so confident, but his encouragement egged me on and so my voice grew loud and less shaky.

So many times it happens too fast You change your passion for glory Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past You must fight just to keep them alive

I started to smile despite my angst and Mingfei joined me in the chorus. It was absolutely ridiculous. Death stalked us in the dreams and out of the dreams. What would Chu Zihang or Caesar think of us? I could imagine those two veterans shaking their dismay at our silly attempt to add a soundtrack to our adventures like this was some sort of drama or video.

But wasn’t this better than some serious faced action hero with big muscles and a machete? If this was to be our last fight, it was better if we go out, singing and laughing.

It's the eye of the tiger It's the thrill of the fight Rising up to the challenge of our rival And the last known survivor Stalks his prey in the night And he's watching us all with the eye of the tiger

I was surprised by a something warm and wet falling on my face and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Oh!”

“What is it? Are you hurting still?” He asked, concerned.

“No, something... slimy just fell on my face.” I wiped it off with one hand and then smelled it. “UGH! It smells awful. Like a mix of feces and vomit.”

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Don’t rub it on my shirt!” Mingfei protested and then stopped and then started to run. “Oh shit! I forgot!”

I clung to him tighter. The ceiling lit up with constellations of bright beaming yellow eyes and shifting dark shadow bodies. “Oh no! Run! Mingfei!”

Gigantic bat wings filled my vision and sharp breezes passed just over my head. I squeezed myself to Mingfei’s back and shut my eyes. The whole tunnel was a cacophany of shrieks and screams and howling. My own voice added to the din, my screaming rattling my throat.

“Meixiu! Hang on!” I heard a sharp whistle sound and bright light penetrated my eyelids.

I looked up, and was immediately blinded by the headlight of a train speeding towards us. “Mingfei!!!”

“Don’t worry! It will stop!”

How could it stop? It was well known that a train could take miles to come to a stop. And this one.... “No!” I closed my eyes and waited for the collision. Instead, I heard the hiss of the subway door.

I opened my eyes and we’d jumped inside a worn train car, dimly lit by fluorescent lights. Outside, the winged demons screeched and scraped claws on the glass.

With a barely audible hum, the train started up again and we were moving. The lights flickered and the hand holds swung from the ceiling. But otherwise everything was silent and still again.

“Ugh... Here, get off.”

I slid off Mingfei’s back and he went to one of the seats and flopped down with exhaustion, one hand over his eyes, trying to catch his breath. The wound on his arm was completely gone.

I sat next to him, trying to still my racing heartbeat. “Want to tell me where we’re going?”

“To the King of Earth and Mountain’s hide away. Where he melded with me the second time.” He answered, staring up at the ceiling. “If what I’m thinking is there.... then that’ll make my job a lot easier.”

I glanced at him. Was he going to go berserk again? “I’m feeling pretty useless.”

Mingfei started to laugh and I scowled. “What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking...” He turned to me, his brown eyes twinkling. “That’s my line.”

I smiled back at him.

His laughter subsided. “You know... There’s something I want to tell you. When we first met. I liked you.”

My eyes widened slightly. “Really.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure about it at first because... Caesar kinda set us up and I liked someone else at the time. But when we were hanging out in Japan I realized, you were brave and... I had someone to talk to who wasn’t looking down on me. Someone who looked up to me. When I thought you died I just... lost it. I was really depressed.”

“Mingfei...”

“Yeah, I know. You’re married and have a kid and it’s stupid of me to say this.”

“You... always supported Zihang and I. So this is a shock.” I sat up straight.

“Yeah well... while you were gone those six months. It was the only time I ever saw Zihang cry. I don’t know what it was about. He had a bunch of blooming cherry blossoms outside your dorm and just.... I didn’t ever want to see that again.” He looked at me, seriously. “So when you came back. I had to step aside.”

“Anjou had that contest where whoever won got to be Star of Cassell and whoever that person asked out had to date them for three months and couldn’t refuse. I knew that person had to either be you or Zihang.”

“I was too slow finding the key and I didn’t know the code to win. But Mingze pointed me to both. So I gave the code to Zihang and the key to you.”

“But why would Mingze do that if you were helping Zihang? He says he’s your brother. Wouldn’t he want you to have a girlfriend?”

“I dunno. That guy makes fun of me and then turns around and treats me as a charity case.”

Mingfei suddenly frowned and turned away. “Let’s stop talking about him.”

#Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Lu Mingfei #Lu Mingze

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