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littlemisspascal · 5 months ago

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Share My Moon

Part of The Fox, The Mage, and The Cupboard

Pairing: Din x Female Reader // also referenced Pero Tovar x Female Reader

Word Count: 3200+

Summary: If you’d known then of the upcoming hell, you would’ve savored the brief taste of heaven significantly more.

Warnings: Magic AU with mages and familiars, Reader has a backstory but no name or description except having hair, Reader's mother makes an appearance, worldbuilding, Ginger Ale being the supportive friend I wish I had, language, angst, grief, mentions of death, passage of time is kind of wibbly wobbly here

Author Note: I've missed this little universe and felt like pouring out some angsty feels. Expands a bit more upon events referenced in Young Love. Hope someone out there likes it 💜💜💜

Pics in moodboard found on Canva + Pinterest. The Omera + Din pic is merely used for aesthetic purposes and does not depict Reader's physical appearance.

Share My Moon - Candle Cocoon

The times that we exist together. Words not needed. Words not said. Memory past. Baking frenzy, harvest night. Pause, look up, the window is bright. Share my Moon. Feel It’s light. Always know that wherever you go. You just need to know that we share the same moon.

~~~

For as many people called Eldergrove home, there were twice as many who no longer did. They moved on and never looked back. The village and its inhabitants nothing more than tiny specks in the rearview mirrors of their lives. You wondered sometimes, if despite the miles of separation, they ever could feel it when their name was spoken by reminiscing villagers. A pinch of nostalgia in the center of their chest for a chapter of their lives they’d closed.

Maybe that was what led a handful of souls back to their old stomping grounds, even after some swore they’d never step foot on Eldergrove soil again.

The Miller brothers upped and left after the deaths of their parents. Ben was barely fifteen at the time, too stubborn and too emotionally damaged to be abandoned by his older sibling. Years later they returned out of the blue, bringing with them Santiago and Frankie, and moved back into the Miller household alongside their cousin like they’d never left. You were reminded of a pack of feral dogs, dangerously codependent and easy to spook, distrustful of the friendly hands offering to help them.

Pero Tovar and William Garin stuck around long enough to graduate school before they packed their things and disappeared. Nobody in the village could figure out for sure where they went or what they did the eight years they were gone. But once William’s ability to kill any prey with a bow and arrow in one shot and Pero’s complete lack of reaction to bloodshed were noticed, the rumor mill blazed with conspiracy theories each more outrageous than the last.

And it hurt to think about how each of these boys who left came back different. They came back as men. Damaged, bloodstained, and exhausted men chewed up and spit out by the big bad world.

It hurt even worse to think about Din this way. Din with his unwavering faith. Din with his impenetrable armor. Beaten and scorned. Unvalued. He deserved a softer life than the one fate had handed him. Nothing could ever convince you otherwise.

On paper, Din had no reason to return. He’d never called Eldergrove home. He’d never called anywhere home. Mandalorians weren’t meant to form attachments outside of their family bonds. Weren’t built for the apple pie and white picket fence domestic lifestyle.

Still, like the ocean drawn to the shoreline, he came back to you over and over.

You thought that was a constant you could depend upon in your ever-changing life.

And maybe it would have remained one, if not for your brazen act of selfishness. If you hadn't been drowning in grief over the deaths of your loved ones and overwhelmed by Din’s kindness, his fidelity, his everything and stopped yourself from lifting his helmet high enough to slam a kiss against his lips.

If you’d known then of the upcoming hell, you would’ve savored the brief taste of heaven significantly more.

If, if, if…They seemed to multiply like rabbits, invading every corner of your brain.

You’d known it was a mistake in the fragile seconds before he pushed you back, so it wasn’t surprising to find him gone by the time you’d summoned up the nerve to walk out of Ivers Forest. His constant absence the several following months without a single word of contact was another puncture driven through your tormented heart. The kind that kept you up at night, white hot and unbearably tender, but deserved all the same for fucking everything up.

It had made sense back then, in its own twisted way, that the anguish would stick with you forever, infiltrating every last atom you possessed. But life had the annoying tendency of moving on and on and on, uncaring of who it pissed off in doing so, and even the most gruesome of wounds stopped bleeding eventually, leaving behind a couple of jagged scars as reminders of lessons learned.

And boy did you learn yours the hard way.

You and Din? The shortest of love stories summed up in four words.

Wrong place. Wrong time.

You were a mere shadow of your former self in the aftermath of the funerals and Din’s departure. Shattered without a plan of how to glue yourself back together again. People noticed, of course they did, looking at you with pity in their eyes and offering paper-thin smiles. Turned you into a bit of a recluse to avoid facing them, feeling too much like an object or statue to gawk at rather than a real human being. Though there were some days you didn’t even feel like one of those either.

Your relationship with The Cupboard was a love/hate one, switching back and forth depending on the week or day or hour. It was funny in a pathetic, tragic sort of way how a building you’d known since birth became almost unrecognizable once it stopped being your grandmother’s shop and now belonged to you. You spent days refamiliarizing yourself with every tool and ingredient, the contents of each drawer, the ‘hidden’ nook beneath one of the floorboards you once stuffed shiny pebbles and bird feathers in like your own personal treasure trove. Nothing in there now except a couple of dust bunnies.

Inheriting the shop also meant inheriting your grandmother’s loyal mass of clientele. They sent in their orders by mail from afar, knocked on the shop door if you had the light on, or asked through your mother when you made yourself purposefully scarce. No one commented on the unpredictable hours. Grief could be used to excuse all types of strange behavior.

Wearing the same clothes for several days in a row? Grief.

Locking yourself away in a tiny room with nothing but molds and candlewax for hours on end? Grief was the explanation.

In your defense, you did spend time outside of the shop and your bedroom. Quite a bit, actually. Not your fault there weren’t any witnesses in Ivers Forest to see you collecting herbs or tending to the graves there. Sometimes you’d personally deliver orders to customers who lived beyond Eldergrove’s boundaries rather than send them by post–Rosedale, Bogcaster, once even Sassashire Falls for a woman with a particularly nasty reaction to a bee sting.

A good night’s sleep was hard to come by, no matter the candles which burned on your bedside table. You’d dream of what you’d lost. Who you had lost. And if you weren’t dreaming, you were having a staring contest with the moon outside the window, full and white, a guardian against the worst of the hungry shadows. Stared until your eyes burned and the questions beating against your skull fell mute. The clock numbers ticked by from midnight ‘till dawn. Life went on and on and on.

Mornings were easier. You’d make tea while Ginger cobbled together a little breakfast meal from whatever could be found in the fridge. She knew better than to comment on your tired eyes or frumpy appearance, instead just nudged her elbow against yours in a silent I’m here if you need me.

You stuffed your mouth with food and stacked the dishes and silverware in the sink to deal with later. Wished Ginger luck on finishing her newest invention designs.

Then back to The Cupboard you went. Same old, same old.

Your mother worried about you–well, that was always a fact. But she worried even more so that year, had a concerned crease between her eyebrows every time you stopped by, hugged you an extra bit tighter as if she could somehow absorb the negative emotions and take them on herself.

“You know, darling,” she told you one evening, a couple glasses of wine too many loosening her tongue, “that boy could never hate you.”

Your mother was your closest confidant–boy troubles, irritating customers, crippling insecurities, she knew just what to say to make every problem shrink down into manageable ones. Easy to fix.

But not this.

“Mom–”

“It was obvious from the minute you brought him home you were tied to each other. He may not be your familiar, but your grandmother and I both knew you would always be in each other’s lives.”

“Not anymore.” You shook your head, a wet sob stuck in your throat. “He’s not coming back. Not again.”

“I know it feels like an ending, darling. Like all hope is lost,” she said, hands squeezing your shoulders. Her eyes were bright and expressive, impossible to look away from. “But sometimes things fall apart because there’s no other way for them to go. And it’s natural to feel hurt and confused and angry. Those challenging moments are meant to teach us new things though, open our stubborn eyes and change us into us. Din will come back when the timing’s right. When you’ve both grown up a bit, walked your own separate paths for a few seasons. Trust me.”

So that’s what you did.

You grew up, settled into your own skin. You made a name for yourself as a skilled mage and chandler. You started smiling a bit more.

Missing Din became easier–felt less like the throbbing absence of a limb, more like the yearning ache of homesickness. Curious, since you were the one who had a roof over your head and a mailing address.

There were still some nights you’d find yourself watching the moon, its waning and waxing. And it became a comfort, imagining Din somewhere out there in the wilds on his own path, sharing the same view.

Take your time, you would think in the lulling seconds before drifting off. I'm not going anywhere.

If not for the stone markers, the graves in Ivers Forest wouldn’t look much like burial sites. The dislodged piles of dirt had been reclaimed by the earth, smoothed out and replenished with green tufts of grass dotted with dandelions doing what they did best. Thriving where least wanted.

Sunlight trickled in through the overarching tree branches, shimmering beams igniting the dust and pollen floating in the air. The only movement in an otherwise frozen patch of wilderness. Not even the birds or crickets sung their songs there. Used to make you feel nauseous–the silence so still your heartbeat hurt to hear.

You craved quietness these days. Wished you could preserve it in the wax of your candles somehow, then burn its essence and inhale its effects until your racing thoughts permanently settled down. But every kind of magic had its limitations. Capturing the hush of a soul’s final resting place, raising the dead back to the realm of the living…it was all too much for you.

The lit candle cupped between your hands flickered, reacting to the negative dip of your mood. An infusion of lavender, bergamot, and a hint of lemon meant to invoke calmness–one of your grandmother’s favorite recipes. Except it didn’t smell like hers, missing the unique, spicy aftereffect of her own magic that you would never in your lifetime be able to mimic. It was a plain and simple fact: you could run her store, you could copy her recipes, but you couldn’t ever actually be her.

Didn’t stop you from trying to fill your grandmother’s shoes though, to be everything she was remembered and loved for.

A talented mage, a successful businesswoman, a respected member of the community. Accomplishments which matched those of a happy life. Accomplishments you’d earned for yourself, checked off each box through hard work and stubborn persistence.

You should have been happy.

But the feeling remained elusive to you. Hovered just beyond your reach, enshrouded in a mist of uncertainty, not so different from a certain bounty hunter you were dearly fond of.

It was foolish, thinking of him at the same spot everything shattered to pieces. You rubbed at your nose, grimacing against the phantom sensation of blood leaking from your nostrils. If only you’d mourned the loss of your grandmother and Aunt Bunny the way most people did, instead of nearly getting yourself killed trying to bend the rules of the universe to your whim, maybe then things would have been different. Happier.

Your candle’s flame flickered again, angrier this time, nearly snuffing out.

“Sorry, sorry. Brighter days are on the horizon, I believe you,” you muttered to yourself, staring down at your grandmother’s marker with a rueful half-smile. Some days it felt cathartic to speak out loud, other times a little ridiculous. Regardless, nobody ever replied back.

“It’s always darkest before the dawn,” a familiar voice agreed from behind.

Until then, apparently.

Ginger was a great roommate. She was tidy, thoughtful, far more brilliant than everyone else in the village combined. She also knew how to find you when you didn’t want to be found and when it was time to bring you home again. Even when you weren’t ready to admit so.

You greeted her with an arm nudge as she stepped up beside you, shoulder pressing back against yours. She adjusted her glasses, then neatly held her hands in front of her. The stance of someone who intended to stick around for a while.

“Caught up in the past again, hmm?”

“Guilty,” you answered with a sigh. “Can’t seem to shake the habit.”

“You ever think about, maybe, finding someone to anchor you in the present?” she asked, like the question had an easy answer.

“Someone like who?”

“A boyfriend.”

You hummed a dismissive note. “No. Not even once. Why the hell would I want that?”

“It’s called dating, hon. Lots of single fish out there in the sea, including some of Merlin’s friends.” Ginger tilted her head to meet your gaze, an encouraging look in her dark eyes. “Could be good for you. Why not give it a shot?”

Why not? Because you were still grappling with the consequences of the last (and first) time you kissed someone. Why not? Because dating meant opening yourself up to someone, allowing them to see you. Every crack, every shadow, every shortcoming. Why not? Because someone already had seen you like that…and you’d lost him.

You bit into your lower lip, stared down at the pooling melted wax filling the jar as if the words you lacked were stuck there, waiting to be pulled free. But nothing could be found.

“Change can be scary,” Ginger said after a moment. There was a note of sympathy in her voice, and you didn’t want to hear it. Not there, where out of the corner of your eye you swore you glimpsed the glint of beskar, where the dividing line between past and present had never been blurrier. “But…you’re not happy with the way things are right now, are you?” The expression on Ginger’s face told you she knew the truth. She just wanted to hear you say it.

It wasn’t an easy thing to do. Something about actually giving voice to the problem that had been weighing down on you so long felt akin to tearing your heart out of your chest. Exposed for one of your closest friends in the whole world to gawk at.

“No,” you answered, shoulders curving with defeat. A sour taste in your mouth, you choked out, “I’m not happy.”

“The first step’s admitting it.” Your roommate slung her arm around your back, squeezing your upper arm. Then: “The next step’s taking a leap of faith and doing something about it.”

Later, you convinced a stubborn Pero Tovar to make you a cottage out of The Cupboard. (That’s a whole other story on its own).

Later, Pero kissed you beneath a sky full of shooting stars. It was unexpectedly sweet. Romantic. (Another story for another time.)

Later, you broke Pero’s heart because (beware of spoilers) for all the potential reasons you might’ve been happy together, there was one glaring detail you couldn’t overlook no matter how hard you tried.

He wasn’t Din.

And life went on and on and on.

On one shelf in The Cupboard, towards the back where you kept your wax molds, there was a row of candles—different colors, different infusions, each created with a different person in mind. There was a pink one for your mother, a grey one for your stepfather, light blue for Ginger and green for Benny and yellow for Frankie. Din’s was gold, Will’s a dark shade of purple and Santiago’s a vibrant orange. Pero had a black one, though with the unpleasant awkwardness still lingering after the breakup his had become the least burned in your collection—well, actually that was not entirely true. There was one you’d never lit at all. An earthy brown shade and still as pristine as the day you made it for a familiar you’d yet to meet.

None of these people asked for a candle. They didn’t pay for them or choose their colors or infusions. You made the candles in your own free time of your own volition. Because there was something about the process of melting wax and adding scents, about infusing strength and peace and creativity and protection that gave you a sense of purpose, of being a positive force.

You burned them sporadically, sometimes for hours while you finalized orders, sometimes for under ten minutes as you drank a cup of tea. You burned them when your magic sensed something was needed, a void only it could help fill. You burned them because nothing hurt you worse than when the ones you loved most were suffering, the hopeful vibrance in their eyes dimming and waning.

There were some tragedies which could not be avoided. Some hardships that must be endured and overcome by one’s own strength. Life was never a smooth path for anybody. For every sunny day there were also moonless nights.

But light would always come again.

Afterall, even the biggest of shadows were powerless against the smallest of candle flames.

Monday: breakfast at your mother’s house, yummy biscuits and troubled lines along your stepfather’s brow, news of a sick relative, a grey candle burned to bring him peace of mind.

Tuesday: lunch with Frankie, tired smudges beneath downcast eyes, discussions of nightmares, the dancing flame of a yellow candle promised sweeter dreams.

Wednesday: stacks of orders, piles of laundry, Ginger lent a helping hand, a blue candle lit over dinner in gratitude.

Thursday: Santiago and his restless spirit, the notes of an acoustic guitar played by scarred hands, new song lyrics in black ink, an orange candle ignited to summon enlightenment of life’s priorities.

Friday: woke up before the sunrise, magic tugged at your chest, a gold candle grabbed and lit before you even registered its meaning, heartbeat dangerously frantic.

It’s happening, you thought with a laugh verging on hysterical. It’s really happening.

Din was coming back.

Night had descended upon Eldergrove by the time Din approached The Cupboard. It was reassuring to learn his preference for the cloak of darkness concealing his presence hadn’t changed. Helped appease something ruffled deep inside you, eased the tension in your spine.

He knocked on the door–and that hadn’t changed either, the achingly familiar thud of leather-gloved knuckles against the wood. Even without the gold candle still burning away on your kitchen table, you would have known it was him by the mere sound alone.

Electricity seemed to thrum along your nerves, pulse spasming and fingers trembling as you gripped the doorknob. Your mom had told you Din would return when the timing was right, and you’d believed her. Except absolutely nothing felt right about then and there. It was an impossible clash of too soon and too long without any middle ground to stand on.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and stepped outside. A leap of faith.

And for the first time in over a year, you and Din shared the same moon.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #pedrostories #din djarin fanfiction #my fic #my writing

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sandwitchstories · 5 months ago

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Sneak peek at a Sukuna fic that will be posted soon!!

Title: The Rose of The Devil's Garden

(this fic was actually inspired by one of my all time favorite songs. Rose Of The Devil's Garden by Tiger Army. If you've never heard it you should go look it up immediately)

Summary: Y/N is a young woman the same age as Ryoumen Sukuna. Like him she is scorned for things beyond her control. She is a foreigner alone in these lands. She has a secret that she has never told another soul.

Sukuna is a young man around the same age. His heart is hardened by the cruelty of others. But somehow this girl... This... Runt, is slipping passed his safeguards. Should he let her or kill her?

This is their story.

Smut will be coming when they are old enough in the story.

Hope you like this little snippet! Leave a comment if you wish to be tagged when the first chapter drops!

Ch1 snippet: a black rose

Ryoumen Sukuna paused as he felt a presence behind him. It was a girl. Close in age to him. He was frozen, unsure what to do. Should he kill her before she mocked him? Leave before she got the chance?

He knew with 2 faces and 4 arms he was an unusual sight. People had been cruel to him since the second of his birth. But if he was anything it was determined. He would prove them all wrong and be the most powerful of all.

He didn't have time to keep pondering what to do as the girl approached. He looked down into her curious face. She was without a doubt the prettiest girl he had ever seen. With her cinnamon red hair and giant green eyes with too long black lashes.

She looked up at him and gave a hesitant smile. “Since you're so tall, do you think you could lend me a hand? I can't reach some of the fruits that are on the tree over there.”

He glanced to where she pointed and sure enough the tree was bare except the top. “Uh. Sure.”

She gave him a huge smile. The first time anyone had ever smiled at him. “Thank you so much! I am sorry to bother you.”

“It is no bother,” he replied following her. Unsure why.

She looked at him and smiled again. “I'm Y/N! What's your name?”

“Sukuna,” he replied.

“It's nice to meet you, Sukuna! Want to be friends?” She asked as they approached the tree.

Friends? He didn't have friends. He bathed in the blood of others.

He gave a non committal noise and followed her.

He glanced at her face as she hummed and took the fruit from him and put it into her basket. “Where are your parents?”

Something dark passed over her features before she glanced at the ground. “The villagers killed them out of fear several years ago when I was 10. I am 14 now.”

“So you are alone?” He asked, pausing.

“I am,” she shrugged. “But I'm alive. And even if the only reason I am alive is to spite the very ones that tried to kill me, that is enough. I can do all things through spite which strengthens me.” She pointed past him to his left. “You missed a few.”

“Be patient, runt. I'm getting to it,” he huffed at the slightly younger girl. He stole a glance at her again.

Another soul left alone in this damn world. Like him she was alone. Unlike him, other than her strange coloring, she appeared normal. But he could feel something dark and powerful within her. Maybe being friends with her would be beneficial to both of them?

He pondered this thought as he let her boss him around about what fruits to pick. She was a strange one. Bold, beautiful, brave. He liked her alot.

A few days later he heard the yelling of “get that freak!” “Kill the freak!”

For the first time ever it wasn't directed at him. He shook his head. Humans were such vile creatures. He was walking away until he heard a familiar female voice yell back.

“Please! Stop! I haven't done anything!”

“We don't care! We know what you are, you filthy foreigner! If you aren't going to let us fuck you then we will kill you!! Die, bitch!”

“no!! Please!!!”

Sukuna moved at a blurring speed, knocking weapons away from her and standing in front of Y/N, blocking her fully. “Well well well what do we have here?”

“S…s…stay out of this, you freak!” One of the men called back to him. “This has nothing to do with you! This is between us and the little soon to be whore behind you!”

“Yeah!” Another man called “we only want the girl. Have her over and we will be on our way!”

He gave them a murderous look. “I will leave only one of you alive so you can deliver a message for me.”

“Oh yeah? And what message is that?”

“Anyone who even looks at her wrong is on my list to kill. She is under my protection. Do you foolish mortals understand?” He asked, all 4 arms braced for a fight.

He easily got rid of the pathetic humans and finally turned around to look at Y/N. She sat wide eyed behind him. She was trying desperately to keep her ruined kimono closed over her supple breasts and curvaceous body. He had dreamed of her often since they had gotten older. But he would not defil her or take her like this.

“Here,” he said, shedding his robe and leaving him in his hakama pants. He covered her in his robe which was comically big on her.

She startled him by flying forward and wrapping her arms around him, uncaring of his monsterous appearance. “Thank you, Kuna.”

She shortened his name and it did something to his heart. How had this runt managed to worm past all of his safeguards? He wasn't sure. And he didn't care that they were barely teenagers now, he would protect the little runt always.

He wrapped two arms around her waist and another around her shoulders. The final hand cupped the back of her head gently, brushing his hand up and down through her hair gently. He had no idea what it was going to take to awaken the dorment power he could feel deep within Y/N, but until then, until she could stand strong against her enemies, he would stand in front of her. And once she came into her power? Well, when that happened he hoped she would stand beside him.

But, until then… he held her close. “I'm here. Nothing can harm you if we are together. I promise.”

#ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #ryoumen sukuna x reader #jjk wip #writing wip #not witch starting another fic #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk writing wip

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decoysouled · 10 months ago

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all the things i should(n't) have said // accepting. @apocryphis // ❝ you'd think we'd be better at saying 'goodbye'. ❞ from xiao to the aether of your choice!

THE ANSWER TO XIAO'S STATEMENT IS SIMPLE: Aether will never get better at saying goodbye to him, not even when the cosmos have faded into memory & even the ashes of the old universe have vanished into nothingness. This is a truth he has carried with him for five hundred years of visits cut short & final farewells that came with a distance which never seemed to last — yet, he cannot find peace in their goodbyes, even when he will see Xiao again.

Even when their next meeting will once more no longer be infused with hurt & betrayal & longing for what should have been, rather than the hands fate had chosen to deal the two of them.

Perhaps part of it is uncertainty, of not knowing whether this will be the last time they meet — Aether cannot count how many times he has said goodbye to someone, only to return & find they are gone & buried & he had not known. He cannot count how many times he has cared & loved & said farewell only to be met with scorn when he returned to the side of those he cherished most, for leaving had become another form of betrayal in the eyes of all.

( they cannot count how many times they had dreamt of xiao's presence. how many times they had yearned to call for him, if only because they did not wish to let go of a broken friendship. )

❝I think... I don't think I want to get good at it.❞ Aether murmurs after several minutes of silence. ❝Do you?❞ & for a moment, he wonders if he has overstepped, for how many times has Xiao said goodbye to someone? To Aether? He may have lost track of how many times this scene has played out in the past few centuries, but it would be presumptuous to think that Xiao had lost count, too.

& how cruel it has been of Aether to bestow his own fate onto Xiao: to force him to say goodbye without finality & without any knowledge of what would become of a close friend before their next meeting, if it ever arrived. These days, he wonders if he has ever been kind at all, when he has treated such a close companion with callousness & indifference for so long.

The moments feel as if they stretch out into eternity, but maybe it only feels that way because he wishes they would — he doesn't want to leave, Aether is sure, even if he will only be returning to Sumeru for the time being. He had not wanted to face Xiao, to walk into Liyue & face his anger for the last time, especially after everything he has said to him.

( & how many times have they hurt him with their words? how many times had their hurt become a knife in their hand & in his back? )

It is reminiscent of the past, the way Aether moves forward & gathers Xiao in his arms, a mark of the final moments that would be spent together before he left him behind once more. & if, this time, Aether holds him just a little tighter. & if, this time, he rests his chin on Xiao's shoulder to hide the tears that well up in his eyes. & if, this time, he does not truly wish to let go & walk away from someone he holds so dear.

& if, every time, the only person who needs to know his feelings in these moments is standing before him, then Aether will never tell another soul.

#002. ❝transmissions: down with the fallen.❞ — answered #& fandom — genshin impact #100. ❝like i’m trapped inside a wrong dimension.❞ — aether #121. ❝living with eyes wide open.❞ — V6 ( the order )#apocryphis #addressed to — xiao (apocryphis)#( decided to set this after the other thread will end )#( for when Aether is returning to Sumeru )#( the other option was traveller verse when he leaves teyvat but i feel like i would cry writing it so alas )

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kaeliwritesstuff · 1 year ago

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To Thaw a Frozen Heart [Genshin Fanfic | Kaeya x OC]

Chapter 1

Diluc sat at his desk, a scornful frown painted his face as he glanced at the time again.

Where is she? He paced as he finally heard the front door to the winery open. His eyes fell upon his younger sister, as she tried to sneak into the place quietly. Whenever she turned around she was met with his glare.

Rachel gulped, and Diluc crossed his arms as she walked over to him timidly, "Just where have you been?" He asked lowly. "You know it's way past curfew."

"I-I'm sorry Diluc," his younger sister murmured.

"Tell me what happened," he sighed. It wasn't like her to break the rules. She must've had a reason.

"Ah well..." Rachel looked back up at him. "I was spending some time with Aether. He returned for a moment after his endeavors in Liyue." She explained as her expression went from sheepish to a little more sullen. "We already heard word about what's happened. But there's so much more to it than the stories tell. He's gone through some tough situations. And he still hasn't heard from or seen his sister... I didn't want to stop his venting because of my curfew."

Diluc knew there was some reason. His sister had a kind heart. But her kind heart is what would be her downfall without him around. "At least you had the Traveler there to keep you safe in case something happens but Rachel," he took a deep breath. "I set rules in place for a reason. I can't always be there to protect you. And you don't have a vision nor fighting skills to protect yourself."

Diluc would look over his younger sister. She's grown so much over the years. She is just four years younger than he and Kaeya. He's noticed a huge change in her ever since father died and Kaeya no longer stayed with them. And Diluc couldn't stand to look at Kaeya's face quite often. Some days were worse than others. But the only one left of his family that he had was Rachel. He was called overprotective often. But who wouldn't be in this circumstance? He wouldn't know what he would do without her.

Rachel looked up at him, an unreadable expression formed on her face as she continued to talk. "I know, but... Diluc I'm no longer a little girl. We have friends too, who will protect me in case something were to happen." Diluc wanted to rebuttal her comment but she held her hand up to continue. "I know there's been a lot on your shoulders. You've had to take dads place in literally everything, including taking care of me..." she looked guilty. "For that I'm forever grateful."

"To me it does not matter your age..." Diluc said in a softer tone. "Rachel you are my little sister, I will always be very protective of you."

"Especially since we've lost dad... I know, Diluc. I'm the only family you have left." Rachel said in a knowing tone. Diluc was always surprised at Rachel's astute observations of others. It's like she knows how people think or feel before they even say it. It's why she had so many close friends, and many opened up to her. Rachel was more of a listener than a talker. But she always talked with Diluc. "And Kaeya... he's still family."

This made Diluc clench his jaw. "I've told you many times, Rachel. Kaeya can't be trusted. It's not speculation, it's not out of any random reason why I say this. He *can't* be trusted."

"But he's still our brother," Rachel stood firm. This was the one thing he and Rachel fought on. Kaeya. Diluc had many speculations of the relationship between her and Kaeya. She still saw him as a brother, sure. But he knew there was more to it. A secret crush between them both? Perhaps. All he knew was that Rachel liked Kaeya more than just that. And Diluc would make sure that Kaeya could not break her heart.

"He's no brother of mine," Diluc said in an almost sinister tone. He felt himself harden at the idea of Kaeya being his brother once more.

"You know that isn't true," Rachel replied in a firm voice. He was surprised to see how grown up she had become. It was like she could see into his heart and soul, even though he locked everything away. "He's still our brother... even if you two don't get along. I can see you both still care."

Diluc sighed, "Rachel, we aren't having this argument again. You're to tend to the flowers and the gardens around the winery tomorrow as punishment for staying out so late. Don't forget to do your other tasks as well." He sent her on her way. Rachel looked like she wanted to say something else but her brows furrowed. She gave him this look that she was hurt by him, but she knew that he in the end, was right about some things. Diluc felt slightly guilty as he watched his sister go upstairs to her room. The room she's had since their father owned the winery.

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ══════

Rachel fell into her bed as she picked a pillow up to hide her face into it. It felt cooler than the air around her. She closed her eyes as she thought of what Aether talked about earlier. He seemed increasingly concerned about finding his twin. Rachel couldn't help but to feel for him... if Diluc randomly disappeared after she woke up, she'd be in the same position. Plus talking about his adventures in Liyue made her curious enough to want to explore Teyvet. Maybe when she was older...

Rachel sighed deeper as she recalled another part of the evening. One she kept from her brother. She had stopped at Angel's Share to make sure the place was properly stocked up before she would help transport supplies there tomorrow. Unsurprisingly to her, Kaeya was also there.

──⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──

"Hey Rae," Kaeya said in a playful tone. "Come have a drink with me?" There was a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Rachel shook her head, "You know Diluc would kill me right? Besides, I'm already late returning." Rachel noticed Kaeya's rosy cheeks as he had already been drinking. Probably trying to feel out another bandit that dropped by. Those poor men who decided to get a drink.

"Come on Rachel," he said a bit softly, as he moved a bit closer to her so others wouldn't overhear what was said. "You're already out late anyway. I... wanted to ask you a question."

Rachel had a hard time resisting his natural charm. This wasn't one of those charms he'd use on others to win them over. She and Kaeya have known each other since he got adopted into their family all those years ago. She and Kaeya used to be very close up until he wasn't allowed to return home.

"Fine, you can ask the question. But I won't be drinking," Rachel said with a defeated sigh.

"It's just too bad I have another drink waiting for you at the table," Kaeya chuckled. Rachel let out a short laugh as she walked over to the table he wanted to sit at. There was indeed, already a drink there.

Rachel lifted the cup to her lips, noticing Kaeya's playful gaze as he watched her take a sip. "What's your question?" She asked pointedly with a raised brow.

Kaeya's eyes got a little more serious, but he was still smiling. Albeit the shine behind it diminished. "I've noticed you and The Traveler have gotten closer..." he made an observation.

Just as Rachel was about to take another sip she stopped. Her eyes look over the Cavalry Captain. Her red eyes held a twinkle in them. "We have... he's a friend of mine since he helped the people of Monstadt out. You and Diluc included."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about, Rae," Kaeya leaned forward a bit against the table. She could smell the alcohol from his breath before she took a huge gulp of the drink he gave her.

The drink burned as it went down. "If you're implying he and I are more than just friends... I'm sorry to disappoint you." She smirked slightly. "Even if he and I were to see each other in that way... what does it matter if we liked one another?" She asked with a raised brow, her breath waiting in anticipation of what he'd say.

Kaeya chuckled and leaned back in his chair. "I just need to make sure you aren't sneaking around with another man behind your brother's back. Imagine how surprised and pissed he'd be." Kaeya said as his eyes told another story. His playful glint couldn't fool her. Rachel was really good at reading people. If she were to not know Kaeya for as long as she had, though... he might be impossible to read.

"If Aether and I planned to date, he would be the first person I'd tell," Rachel smirked slightly. "Are you sure there is no other reason for you asking, other than to make sure I'm not secretly seeing someone behind Diluc's back?" She asked with an emphasis on her brothers name. Because she knew Kaeya didn't want her seeing anyone period. Not with their deep bond...

"I'm afraid that's all there is too it," he chuckled and raised his cup to his lips.

"Liar," Rachel said softly as she finished her drink. She was tipsy at this point.

"What can I say? That's my specialty. It's just too bad your specialty is to see the true intentions of people's hearts, huh?" He leaned in, looking deeper into Rachel's crimson eyes.

"That's one way of calling me observant." Rachel chuckled, feeling her face getting hit from the alcohol.

"You're more than just observant, Rae..." Kaeya said in a much lower tone. "You're so scarily observant, I myself have felt that you can see right through my frozen heart." Although the words were said in a sarcastic tone, Rachel knew just how much Kaeya meant those words.

Rachel rolled her eyes at his pun. "Even if your heart was frozen, I'd still tell you that it's beating just like everyone else's. So, stop counting yourself out." Rachel said as a warning. She knew him too well. Kaeya chuckled as he leaned forward a little more.

"It's almost midnight," he said softly. This made Rachel's eyes widen as her head snapped to the clock. Where did the time go? She was so dead... a dark chuckle could be heard from Kaeya. "Good luck, Rae."

Rachel sent a glare his way. "Thanks for the drink, I'll pay next time..."

"No need," she heard him call out as she dashed out the door.

────── ∘❉∘ ──────

"That look you had was entertaining enough..." Kaeya said as he watched Rachel leave. He stared at the glass in his hand now, as his smile dropped. It was always so hard to hold himself back when he saw her. That girl who could always warm his usually frozen and frigid heart. He set the glass against the table a bit loudly.

If only he could allow his aching love for her to be set free. But there were already so many factors in the way. So many secrets hidden from her. All to make sure she never got hurt. He and Diluc both had agreed to not let her in on what happened to their father until she was older. But both seemed to silently agree in not mentioning his betrayal as being a Khaenri'ah spy.

Diluc has made it very clear that he would not interfere with Kaeya and Rachel in having a friendly relationship with each other as long as Kaeya did not step over the line in pursuing the romantic side with Rachel. Well... easier said than done. Rachel was truly the only person who could potentially understand Kaeya completely. And she was such an open heart for him... she would more than likely accept everything about him and still stand by his side even if he completely broke her heart. Kaeya did not want to hurt or use Rachel the most out of everyone. It just annoyed him that Diluc thought he had to lay these rules out for him.

His eyes trailed back to the entrance and exit of the tavern. Kaeya was amazed that he knew Rachel and Diluc so well that even the crazy similarities they had on the outside could not have him compare them mentally from one another. He could not see Diluc as he stared at Rachel. And he couldn't see Rachel when he stared at Diluc. Both with deep fiery red hair and eyes. He chuckled to himself.

Suddenly his chest filled with guilt and sadness. There was an inner conflict going inside his mind and chest each time Rachek left. From Khaenri'ah to the night of their fathers death... the fact that his own father abandoned him to partake in being an agent for the people of Khaenri'ah. He was not supposed to get as attached to these people as he did. But the fact their father was willing to take him in as his own son when Kaeya waited for hours for his own father to return... the way he grew close to Diluc and Rachel as they grew up. He was supposed to be doing his job for his home world which was long gone. Yet he grew to like this world and the people in it. The inner struggle never stopped.

"Charles, I'll take another," Kaeya said as he raised his empty glass over at the bartender with his signature smile. There were still a few patrons left in here he could speak with. Kaeya was very good at using his influence over others. Besides, why not do what he's best at?

#genshin #genshin diluc #genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin kaeya #genshin oc #genshin mondstadt #genshin impact kaeya #genshin impact diluc #angel’s share #kaeya alberich #kaeya #kaeyagenshinimpact #kaeya x oc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc genshin impact #oc genshin #Diluc sister

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everysatelliteandstar · 1 year ago

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on a crowded street in 1944…

Chapter 2

AO3 | Chapter 1

“So,” asks Jae-ha — with a mischievous glint in his eye — as they leave the bar, “where to next?”

Yeon Kyung shoots him a glare that threatens to vaporize him. “Home. I’m going to sleep for twelve hours straight.”

Jae-ha laughs through a face of disappointment, but complies, waving goodbye to Yeon Kyung as he leaves her at the door of her boarding house a few minutes later.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, and she only rolls her eyes as she shuts the door.

Yeon Kyung sleeps for the next twenty-one hours, waking up only when the lady who runs the boarding house checks on her, concerned she’s died in her sleep.

“I’m so sorry,” yawns Yeon Kyung, noticing the foul taste in her mouth and the emptiness in her stomach. “But I haven’t slept that well for months.”

“You must be hungry,” says Ms. Kam, stoking the fire. “I made sundubu-jjigae for dinner. There's still some left.”

“Oh. Thank you, Ms. Kam. I'll take your offer as soon as I wash up.”

“Very well.” She sounds equally concerned about Yeon Kyung and disapproving of her.

Half an hour later, Yeon Kyung is three spoonfuls into her tofu soup when Ms. Kam interrupts her.

“Your gentleman friend is outside again.”

“Jae-ha? What does he want?” asks Yeon Kyung through her mouthful of food.

“Well, how should I know, girl?” chides the lady, so Yeon Kyung chokes down the soup and goes to wrap herself in a sweater before going outside to see her visitor.

“Hello again,” he smiles when he sees her.

“Hi. What brings you here?”

“Wanna go for a drink?”

She gives a long sigh, her breath turning white in front of her face. “No.”

“What, just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Aww, come on, I even came earlier this time!”

“Forget it, Jae-ha. I've been asleep all day and I'm very warm and cozy in here. I already went out with you last night, so kindly let me stay in today.”

“Not even one drink?” he pleads.

“Well, it's all the same, isn't it? I'd have to leave my warm house and walk there. But if you're still going, then you could bring me back a bottle of soju.”

Jae-ha gasps in exaggerated offense. “So you won’t go with me, but you'll still make me bring you back a drink?”

“Well, you don’t have to.”

“No, it's fine,” he answers, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I get it. I've overstayed my welcome. I'll just go.” He begins to walk backwards toward the front gate. “Alone. Sad.”

Yeon Kyung's eyes twinkle in amusement. “I am sorry, Yoo Jae-ha. But I'll go out with you next time, okay? Ask me out at a respectable hour and I'll join you. Lunch.”

“Lunch,” he agrees. “Tomorrow?”

“Sure. I promise I'll wake up by eleven this time.”

“Sounds good.”

“Good night.”

“Good night.” Jae-ha smiles and waves before walking off, and Yeon Kyung heads back inside to the dining room to finish her soup.

It's about an hour later that she changes her mind.

She intended to read a bit and then go back to sleep, but as it turns out, having slept for nearly a whole day straight means she isn't the least bit tired now — in fact, she feels more energy than she has in months. Besides, the fireplace in her room is burning so hot that she's starting to long for the cold air that she just scorned to Jae-ha earlier. She considers going after him.

“It's only been an hour,” she tells herself. “He might still be there. We were there for an hour and a half last night.”

She peers out at the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway. Nine twenty-five. “I shouldn't.”

… except that she's about to go stir crazy.

She wrestles with it for the next ten minutes before deciding she's going. It takes her another ten minutes to get dressed and sneak past Ms. Kam, who, if she catches her, will certainly interrogate her as to where she's going at this hour.

The cold air hits Yeon Kyung's face unforgivingly as she steps outside, and she immediately feels she's made the wrong call — but behind the closed door, she can already hear Ms. Kam’s voice returning to the foyer, so there’s no turning back now — she soldiers on and leaves the confines of the courtyard. She’s pretty sure she remembers the way to Lee Doseong’s bar. “After all, I walked there and back last night, right?”

An additional fifteen minutes later, Yeon Kyung is certain she’s lost.

“Oh, where did I go wrong?” she bemoans, finding herself on an unusually crowded and busy street. She supposes this is better than if she had ended up alone in a dark alley, but that knowledge does nothing to decrease her confusion — or the chilling air that sneaks under her scarf and into her coat. There’s a clock in the square nearby, and she checks the time. It is now ten o’clock.

“Darn it all. I'm lost and I’ll bet Jae-ha isn’t even there anymore.” She turns around, deciding to retrace her steps and go back home.

“The whole thing was stupid,” she mutters to herself, rubbing her arms to generate some warmth. “I’m better off sweating in that stuffy room than freezing to death out here.”

She’s about to turn the corner when she collides with someone coming from the opposite direction.

“Ah!” exclaims Yeon Kyung, stumbling backwards from the impact. “Joesonghab— aniyo— gomen’nasai!”

“Joesonghaeyo,” says the young woman she’s crashed into at the same time, and there’s a pause as they register what’s just happened.

The young woman speaks first. “You’re Korean?”

Yeon Kyung gives a small laugh. “Yes. You, too?”

Her whole face brightens with a pretty smile. “Yes! What a nice coincidence!”

“Of all the people in Tokyo, I’m glad I crashed into another Korean,” agrees Yeon Kyung, re-adjusting her scarf.

She chuckles. “May I ask where you’re headed?”

There’s a distinct lack of honorifics in her address that would normally put Yeon Kyung on edge, but out here in the cold, wet night, someone speaking casually to Yeon Kyung feels more reassuring than it should normally be.

“Actually,” she answers, seizing an opportunity when she sees it, “I was a bit lost, so I was going to try and head back home. Do you know this area well?”

“I sure do,” her new acquaintance tells her, flashing a grin. “Maybe I can help you. Where do you live?”

“On the corner of 47th and Mitsumasa. There’s a boarding house there.”

“I see. And where were you trying to get to?”

“Oh, a little run-down bar my friend showed me last night. I don’t suppose you know it? It’s run by a Mr. Lee Doseong.”

She stares at Yeon Kyung in awe for a moment, then smiles — again. “Friend, I think this may be your lucky night.”

Yeon Kyung stares back. “Why is that?”

“I was just headed to Lee Doseong’s myself. I don’t suppose you’d want me to guide the way?”

“That— would be great, actually,” she accepts, equally in awe. The woman links her arm with Yeon Kyung’s to guide her along, and the action is so familiar and sudden that it startles her — who is this girl who’s so unafraid to be this casual with someone she met scarcely a minute ago?

Can I even trust her to actually take me to Doseong’s?! Yeon Kyung suddenly thinks. After all, the whole thing happened so quickly — first she was asking for directions home, and in a moment she was being pulled along to the bar. She tries to squash down the fear in her mind and make small talk instead.

“This cold is brutal, isn’t it?”

“It’s terrifying,” agrees her younger companion. “I barely own enough blankets to keep warm in my own home. And yet, here I am out on the town looking for trouble,” she laughs. “In the end, the best thing for staying warm out here is a good, strong drink.”

Yeon Kyung chuckles with her. “You sound like my friend. Last night I wanted to stay home with some tea, but he made me come out with him and have ‘a few drinks to warm us up.’”

“He sounds like my kind of person,” she answers with a merry laugh.

She laughs a lot, Yeon Kyung notes.

“Hey, I don't even know your name yet,” she tries next.

“Oh, I’m Dong Mak-gae,” she replies brightly. “And you are?”

“Choi Yeon Kyung.”

“Pleased to meet you, Choi Yeon Kyung-ssi.”

Another block and they’re standing across the street from the bar, as promised.

“And there it is!” cheers Mak-gae, motioning toward the old building. “Good times await.”

“I sure hope so.”

They cross the street and Mak-gae opens the door and pokes her head inside. “Oppa, are you in here?” she calls brightly, and a voice inside is heard replying to her.

She opens the door completely, letting cold air rush into the warm little bar.

“Come on in,” she tells Yeon Kyung, motioning excitedly, and Yeon Kyung cautiously does.

The door is closed behind her and she stands once again in the quiet establishment, though, even excluding the bustle of Mak-gae’s entrance, the place is definitely less quiet than it was last night — there's about three times as many people.

“Wow, what happened here?” wonders Yeon Kyung aloud.

“It's Friday!” answers Mak-gae. “There's side dishes tonight.”

“I see.”

Yeon Kyung takes a moment to breathe and look around as Mak-gae walks over to the bar. Jae-ha doesn’t seem to be here anymore, but she hasn't even finished verifying that when Mak-gae gets her attention again.

“Yeon Kyung-ssi, come meet my brother,” she tells her, motioning her over to a man sitting at the bar. He turns around, and Yeon Kyung is stunned to find Heo Im looking back at her.

“This is Yeon Kyung,” says Mak-gae. “And this is my brother, Im.”

“Hello,” she says, slowly extending a hand toward him. He shakes it warmly.

“It's a pleasure.”

“Okay.” Mak-gae claps her hands together once. “Now that I've got that out of the way. Doseong-ssi, a bottle of soju, please! Oh, Yeon Kyung-ssi, what’ll you have?”

“Uh— Same as you,” she answers, still dazed.

“Make that two bottles,” she tells Doseong, who nods at her and smiles at Yeon Kyung in greeting.

“Sit down,” Mak-gae says, leaving a barstool available between her and her brother, which Yeon Kyung takes.

She smiles shyly at Heo Im, unsure of what to say. What an interesting coincidence is on the tip of her tongue, but he speaks up first.

“What brings you here with Mak-gae?”

“Oh. I was actually wandering around lost when I ran into her — literally ran into her —, and we found out we were headed to the same place, so she brought me over.”

His eyes widen. “You were lost? In this cold? That's terrible. How long had you been lost for?”

“Oh, about five minutes. Last night was the first time I came here, so I couldn’t remember the way.”

He nods. “Were you— were you supposed to be meeting your boyfriend? Because he was here. He left about five minutes ago.”

“You mean Jae-ha?”

“Yes.”

“Well— yes, I was trying to catch up to him.”

“You two seem very familiar with each other,” interrupts Mak-gae.

Yeon Kyung and Im both laugh lightly.

“We actually, uh, knew each other,” Yeon Kyung explains.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, we met last night when she was here with her boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Yeon Kyung corrects him.

“…Oh. Not your boyfriend.”

“Just my friend.”

“Just your friend,” he repeats mechanically. The weight of the words seems to hang in the air between them.

They look at each other for a very long five seconds before Mak-gae, eyeing them suspiciously, clears her throat. “Dear me, I feel like an intruder all of a sudden.”

This breaks the spell.

Yeon Kyung looks away before he does. “So anyway, I was here with — *ahem* — said friend last night, and your brother happened to be here as well.”

“Well, how about that?” smiles Mak-gae. “And here you two are again.”

“Here we are,” they agree, mirth sparkling in the eyes of both.

#on a crowded street in 1944...#elly writes!#fanfiction #live up to your name #lutyn #deserving of the name #kdrama #choi yeon kyung #heo im #dividers by cafekitsune

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theheadlessgroom · 3 months ago

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Randall was similarly gobsmacked by this announcement, brows rising in genuine surprise, and despite his excitement at the idea of getting to spend more time with his grandparents, he couldn't help but have the same reservations Emily did: What if they regretted it? They no doubt had whole afterlives back in Louisiana, surely they had friends and neighbors they would miss, and who they'd miss in turn, wouldn't they? New Orleans was their home, after all-did they really want to leave it all behind after a month in Anaheim?

But if Randall and Emily were unsure of this choice, August and Josephine seemed very set in their decision; neither of them took any offense to Emily's questions, with the Burke matriarch answering, "We've had more than enough time, in my opinion. Certainly, being close to our daughter again is a big part of our choice; it has been heaven meeting our family for the first time, and I think it would break both our hearts to leave, even if we did come back for holidays.

But to tell you the truth, dearheart...the biggest part of this is the fact that we're among honest, like-minded folks here at Gracey Manor. And that's something we've come to see is in short supply back in New Orleans."

Between these happy memories made under the Gracey's roof were stories of the past, accounts from June, Wilhelm, and Randall about the way they were treated by their neighbors in the years following August and Josephine's deaths. Neighbors, who happily greeted the Burkes by name, complimented their home, made small talk when out in town, were the same people who shunned their daughter, scorned their son-in-law, and reviled their grandson. These people, who knew damn well whose parents they were talking to, happily smiled and played nice with August and Josephine, while no doubt remembering their daughter and her family, and the way they treated them. And Josephine had a sinking feeling they had no regrets for that treatment.

How could they? How could they stand there and talk to Josephine and her husband about anything and everything, be downright chummy with them, when they knew perfectly well they were never the same way towards June? How could they sit there and act so lovely, while no doubt recalling their daughter, and how she fell from grace, marrying an Irishman and raising a son with him...?

It made her ectoplasm boil like a kettle left on the stove too long, but the genuine kindness and welcoming warmth of the Mansion and its residence helped to temper her anger with her soon-to-be-ex-neighbors: They were fine folk, friendly and free-spirited, with not one bad word to say about her family. They were the sorts of people the Burkes would happily have as neighbors, and would have soon enough.

As Josephine talked with Emily, August was quick to reassure Lon and Erika that they wouldn't be gone long, saying, "We'll be back in plenty of time for Thanksgiving, don't you worry. We'd just like to go back and get some important things, such as our photo albums and some family heirlooms. As your grandmother likes to say, we'll be back in two shakes of a lambs' tail."

@beatingheart-bride

"I'd rather not find out," August chuckled nervously-as much fun as it would be to dress as a pirate, just for the party, he didn't want to spend the entirety of the celebration avoiding becoming a tasty treat for a hungry alligator. Having heard the nervousness in her husband's voice at even just the idea, Josephine reached over to squeeze his hand, assuring him, "I wouldn't let it eat you, Auggie, don't worry-not even a nibble."

"Thank you, Josie," he replied appreciatively, flashing her a shy, boyish smile (a smile he had unknowingly passed on to his grandson) as he squeezed her hand back, a sight that made the Pace brothers smile wistfully-for as much fun as they'd had at Gracey Manor, reuniting with Wilhelm, meeting their sister-in-law and their extended family, it was clear that they missed their wives and children back home in Ireland, lending a bittersweetness to the air as they sipped their stouts.

Neither Lon nor Erika missed this bittersweetness, with the latter venturing to ask, in a soft, shy voice, "Uncle Colin, Uncle Callahan...will you come back for Thanksgiving?"

"And Christmas? And New Years too?" Lon added, both of them looking at their uncles with wide, expectant eyes, looks that made the elder Pace twins chuckle as Colin assured them, "We certainly will-we'll talk it over with your aunties and cousins, and see about all of us making a trip back. It'd mean a lot for all of us to spend the holidays together-it's been too long since we celebrated with our little brother, and having everyone here...well, that makes it even more special."

"And even when we go home-and we will have to go home eventually; we can't shirk our duties at the farm forever," Callahan continued, resting a comforting hand on his young nephew's shoulder. "We'll make sure to keep plenty in touch-we'll regularly give everyone a ring, and send cards and letters too, between our visits. Trust us, lad-even when we're halfway 'round the world, it sure won't feel like it, I promise.

And besides, if there's a holiday we don't want to miss celebrating here with you, it's Saint Paddy's Day!" he added with a grin, a grin that got both Lon and Erika to brighten up a little, taking solace in the notion that it wouldn't be long before they saw one another again. "We hear tell that's your mama's birthday to boot, so we'll be sure to be here-it's gonna be a real special one!"

#((oh they are FAR more bumbling than constance and nicholas-they couldn't organize a coup like they could))#((i don't think they could organize themselves out of a wet paper bag!))#((and even if they could; they're not only bumblers; they're also just not that ambitious!))#((that sort of thing isn't really their speed; i think they'd be happy being the usual pains that they are:))#((being uncouth; unpleasant little hypocrites; and they wouldn't last a day in gracey manor!))#((even if the paces weren't living there; they'd be so unpleasant that dorian would still want them out))#((but you KNOW they wouldn't be able to resist bothering the paces if they knew they were there))#((and the only upside to that would be that; yeah; wilhelm would be at the forefront of giving them the boot))#((and if colin and callahan were there? well the more the merrier! wilhelm has probably told them about amos))#((and the rest of his cronies; and so the paces brothers would love NOTHING more than to help kick those bullies out!))#outofhatboxes #beatingheart-bride #V:Two Worlds; One Family

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specialagentlokitty · 2 years ago

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Hotch x Daughter!reader - forget and forgive

i have to say that i forgot the plot but i remember it being HotchxDaughter!Reader with hurt/comfort angst. but im not sure what it was abt. so if you want to you can fill that in for yourself! - Anon💜

Sitting on the couch, you looked at all of the food you had set out, it was all cold now. It probably went cold hours ago, but you still held out some hope.

You hadn’t touched any of it, you had watched a few movies and played a few games to pass the time, but as you looked at your phone you sighed to yourself.

“Nearly midnight…” you mumbled.

You had put Jack to bed hours ago after playing some games with him, that’s when you started cooking everything.

You spent nearly two hours cooking it all.

“What a waste…” you mumbled again.

You didn’t bother cleaning up, you decided you could do that in the morning and you turned everything off.

Making sure the door was locked and all the windows were closed, you made your way to your room and just laid in your bed.

You scrolled through your phone for maybe an hour when the front door was unlocked.

“(Y/N)?” Your dad called.

You didn’t reply, and when you heard him walking closer you pretended to be asleep when he knocked on your door.

“Sweetheart?”

Hotch waited on the other side for a reply, but after a few minutes he got worried and opened the door slightly.

You still had you lamp on so he walked over and looked at you.

Asleep.

Pulling your quilt up to cover you, he turned you light off and left your room, making his way over to the living room.

That’s when he saw all the door laid out.

Wrapping it all up he stuck it in the fridge and went to bed himself.

When you woke up in the morning, you showered and changed and stuffed your earphones in as you made your way downstairs.

“(Y/N)!” Jack beamed.

“Hey.” You smiled.

Kissing his head, you made yourself a drink and stood at the sink as you watched your dad cook.

“Pancake?” He smiled.

“No thanks, I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat breakfast (Y/N). Jack and I are going to the park later to meet the others, want to come? It’s been a while and they’re asking about you.” Hotch smiled.

You shook your head and placed your glass into the sink.

“I’ve already got plans. I’ll be home later.”

Giving Jack a hug, you ruffled his hair.

“See you later bud, have fun.”

Hotch held his arms out but you simply left the kitchen, put your shoes on then left the house.

He didn’t see you for the rest of the day, you replied to his texts very bluntly and you were vague about where you were and what you were doing.

“I don’t get it Dave, she’s never this off with me.”

Rossi looked at his friend.

“Have you don’t anything to upset her?” He asked.

“No. I came home, there was food on the table like her and Jack had a movie night, but they didn’t eat any of it. She never had breakfast, didn’t hug me before she left, and she’s now being vague about what she’s doing and where she is. Usually she tells me everything.”

Derek walked over, hearing the conversation and stood in front of his boss.

“That’s a woman scorned.” Derek said.

“What?” Hotch asked.

“Trust me Hotch, I’d know. That’s a woman who is upset with you. You’ve done something or forgotten something, and she’s just going to wait until you realise it.”

Hotch sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll talk to her tonight.”

“Just don’t push her, women don’t like it when they’re being pushed.” Emily smiled walking past.

Hotch nodded his head, taking all of their advice into account.

He’d never raised a teenage daughter before, and without Hayley it was even harder. He had no clue what to do half the time, he was trying his best.

Putting it all to the back of his mind, he focused on trying to have a good day with everyone, but it didn’t feel the same without you there.

He wanted you there, his oldest kid, he wanted you to be with them all like the family you were.

When he got home, Jack was tired but wanted to stay awake to tell you all about his day.

“She’ll be home soon okay buddy?”

“I want to tell her now.” Jack pouted.

“You can tell her all about it tomorrow when you have your dinner date with her, okay?” Hotch smiled.

Jack pouted and yawned, but he nodded his head.

Hotch smiled and put Jack to bed, then he went into the living room and waited.

As the hours ticked by he started to get more and more worried, but when you finally rolled in, hours after your curfew he was furious.

“Where were you?” He said sternly.

You looked at him and rubbed your eyes slightly, letting out a long yawn as you kicked your shoes off and hung you jacket up.

“I fell asleep at Mia’s…” you mumbled.

Hotch rose a brow at you.

“You know the rules (Y/N), you have to be home by nine. I understand you’re old enough to know what you’re doing, but you still have rules to follow.”

You just hummed and started to walk up the stairs.

“Not so fast, we still need to talk.”

You stopped and turned around to face your dad, leaning against the wall as you looked at him.

“What’s going on with you?” He asked quietly.

“Nothing. I’m going to bed. Night.”

You started to walk up the stairs.

“(Y/N).”

You stopped and looked at him.

“You know you can talk to me right?”

You didn’t reply, you simply just carried on walking.

For the next few days Hotch kept trying to talk to you, to get you to do things with him, but nothing seemed to work.

On his last day off, he sat on the couch, holding a phot of you and him in his hands, he felt lost.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked softly.

Hotch looked up and smiled at his son, setting the photo aside.

“Of course buddy, what’s up?” He asked.

“Are you sad because (Y/N) wont talk to you?”

Hotch laughed a little.

“Don’t you worry about it.”

Jack nodded his head and went back over to his toys.

“She’s sad to.”

This caught Hotch’s attention.

“Do you know why?”

He knew if there’s one person you might have told it may have been your little brother.

“She said it’s because you don’t keep your word.” Jack replied.

Hotch furrowed his brows a little bit.

Jack got up and padded away, saying he needed to get some more toys.

Again, you came home late, this time as you looked around, you noticed your dad in the living room, setting plates down.

“Movie night?” He asked.

He held a hopefully smile on his face which fell when you shook your head.

“I’m going to bed.”

“Come on, just one movie.” He chuckled.

You didn’t reply and he sighed.

“I’m so sorry I forgot our movie night sweetheart.” He said softly.

You shook your head again.

“You always forget. For months you’ve been forgetting dad. Everything he have planned you forget.”

“I really am sorry, I’ve taken some more time off just to spend it with you. Jack is going to sleep over with Henry for a few days. Anything you want to do we’ll do.”

“That won’t make up for the months you’ve left me behind.”

Hotch flinched at the coldness of your tone, but he could hear the sadness in your voice as well.

“I know (Y/N), I know it won’t. But please let me try, I never meant to hurt you, I guess I got so lost in my work…” he whispered.

You looked at him, the tears in his eyes.

You knew he was trying his best to make it up to you, and you felt bad for being so mean to him but you were hurt and angry with him.

“Please?” He asked.

You sighed and walked over, sitting on the couch.

“One movie.”

“Thank you, you pick.”

You nodded and stuck your favourite film on.

You didn’t really say much, and neither did Hotch, he was just glad that you decided to stay with him.

At some point you started drifting off to sleep, your head on your dads shoulder as you curled yourself up.

“You never finish a whole film.” He chuckled.

Grabbing the blanket, he covered you up with it and kissed the top of your head.

“I love you (Y/N).” He whispered.

You smiled softly, and playfully hit his arm.

“I love you too dad…” you whispered.

You went quiet for a few minutes.

“And I forgive you…”

With that, you drifted off to sleep with a smile on your face, happy to finally spend some time with your dad

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron x reader

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queen-haq · 3 years ago

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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 1

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Words: ~2200 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to any kind of emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

~~~~~~

You met Billy Russo at an industry conference two years ago. While you didn’t know much about military security at that time, your specialty was online security and both of you ended up attending a lot of the same events. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, magnetic and a total flirt, and it was obvious he was aware of his good looks and used it to his benefit. You didn’t sleep with him during the conference. Something told you his dance card was already full every night. So, instead, you exchanged contact information and left it at that.

A year later you were hired as a consultant for one of Anvil’s direct competitors and moved to New York City. When Billy called you to meet for drinks, you knew exactly what he was up to. You were no fool. He wanted information on your employer and thought he could charm you into spilling secrets. You told him it wouldn’t work over a second drink, and he simply laughed.

You didn’t fuck him until a month later. The official reason for the delay was conflicting schedules but mostly it was due to insecurity on your part. To the outside world you were attractive in the kind of way that snuck up on people. You weren’t the type to turn heads, like Billy was, and your fucked up childhood had ensured you didn’t let anyone in easily. It wasn’t until a pep talk from your best friend, Davina, about enjoying Billy Russo for what he was – a fun time and nothing more - did you finally decide to take the leap.

Fucking Billy had been unlike anything you’d experienced before. You’d had sex before of course, but not the kind of sex that made you lose all of your inhibitions and scream and come for hours. Billy knew how to coax you out of your shell and demand things from him you’d never even knew you wanted. You fucked him in your apartment, his penthouse, the underground parking lot, in his car and that was all within the first week. He had opened up a whole new world for you and you were willing to try anything and do anything he wanted. After that first night together, all the walls you’d built around your heart collapsed. Your best friend warned you repeatedly that great sex made people confuse lust for love, that she was worried you were falling for Billy, but you told her you were an adult and could handle yourself.

Of course that had been bullshit.

It had been been almost a year now since you and Billy were sleeping together and you had no idea where you stood with him. You didn’t even know if he was fucking other women, though a part of you suspected he was. If he was with you two nights a week that left five other nights to be with someone else. It clawed at you, knowing you weren’t enough for him. It heightened all of your insecurities, made you believe that you were worthless and ugly just like your abusive father used to scream at you. Of course you’d never tell Billy that. The minute he suspected you were getting attached to him emotionally he’d bolt, he’d already warned you of that. So you kept your thoughts to yourself and let your pain eat away at your insides when he wasn’t with you.

At least that had been the plan until you saw him on a date with Madani.

You were at a restaurant with some of your coworkers, enjoying happy hour, when you got up to use the bathroom and spotted Billy sitting in the other corner of the room. The breath rushed out of your lungs, your knees felt weak. They were enraptured with each other, legs intertwined, heads close, a true couple. You knew who she was because he’d let it slip he’d been working with Homeland on something and, you being you, you’d looked her up. Her pictures didn’t do her justice, because she was stunning. And exactly the type of woman Billy would be proud to be seen with.

After you and Billy started sleeping together, Billy rarely took you out. Sure you guys would go to some hole-in-the-wall places or fast food joints but never to fine restaurants, not like this one. You never complained because why waste time when you could be busy fucking his brains out? Except now that you saw him and Madani sitting only a few feet away from you, and he was proudly holding her hand and being openly affectionate, you realized it had all been by design. He never took you out because he was ashamed of you. If you had been prettier, thinner, sexier, taller – anything but what you already are – he’d want you as more than a fuck buddy. He’d want you as his girlfriend.

It was a bitter pill to swallow but at least now you knew the truth and that meant you were back in control of your life.

As much as it hurt, it felt good to know you were the ones making decisions about your future again and they didn’t revolve around Billy. No longer would you be obsessing over what he wanted, what he was doing, if he’d like a certain thing on you or not, if he was fucking someone else or not. You wouldn’t spend hours researching Billy like you did in the past and finding out things about him that he never knew you knew. No, now you were finally free.

And it was time to move on.

Tonight was the night of the fundraising gala. Your company had purchased a table and the CEO of your company had personally extended an invite for you to attend. Based on a conversation you had with Billy three weeks ago, you knew he would also be attending to represent Anvil. When you’d first broached the subject you’d hoped he’d asked you to attend as his date – but he hadn’t. At the time you’d reassured herself the reasons were practical. It would be weird for Billy to be sitting at a competitor’s table (if he went with you) and you would risk offending your boss if you sat at Billy’s. But now you knew the truth.

So, tonight, you were dressed to the nines in a curve-hugging gold dress with a plunging neckline which emphasized all of your assets. Your heels, which cost more than the dress itself, were over five inches high and made you feel like an Amazonian goddess when you sauntered in them.

When you walked into the ballroom with Davina in your arms that night, you felt confident in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

The thing about you that a lot of people didn’t know was that you were fucking fantastic at owning a room – despite your insecurities. You may not be beautiful but you were charming. You were really great at getting strangers to open up, people were drawn to you. It was one of the reasons your CEO promoted you so quickly after a few months. Your job, initially at least, was meant to be a technical role but when you were invited to a party with potential clients you had schmoozed them so easily they had signed the contract within the week. And then you had impressed them with your actual technical skills which only cemented their positive impression of you.

So, yeah, you were in your element and you were ready to charm.

“What table are we?” Davina asked.

“14,” you said. Of course your eyes were automatically drawn to Anvil’s table on the seating chart. 157. A safe distance from your table, which meant there was a good chance you two wouldn’t even be crossing paths in the grand ballroom. You didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or disappointed.

A while later you were circulating around the north bar, chatting up with some potential clients that your boss had wanted you to pay particular attention to when you saw Dinah Madani. She was in one of those slinky, maroon satin dresses, her hair up, and you felt that surge of jealousy go through you again. She was probably here as Billy’s guest considering this wasn’t the kind of events Homeland agents typically attended.

“Y/N!” You turned to find your boss waving you towards him.

Glad for the distraction, you picked up two glasses of champagne from a nearby server and headed towards him, handing him his drink. Your boss was chatting to a group of people you vaguely recognized, but the smile on your face stiffened when you spotted Billy amongst them.

Fuck. He looked good in a tux. His hair was slicked back, and you were struck with the sharp memory of fucking him in his car one night with your fingers roughly fisting his hair. God, you loved his hair, loved running your fingers through the silky strands.

Billy’s eyebrow quirked up when he saw you and you wondered what he thought of you so dressed up. No. It didn’t matter what he thought of you. Fuck him, you reminded yourself.

“Y/N is our new Executive Director,” your boss said, introducing you to the group. “Her division has shown a significant growth ever since she joined Valiant.”

You smiled, shaking hands with everyone. When it was Billy’s turn, you reached out to clasp his hand, not betraying any emotion even though you felt an immediate charge upon touching him. He gave you an amused smile, like he was enjoying the charade.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said. “And don’t listen to Roger. Valiant was doing fine on its own.”

“But Y/N has definitely changed the way we do some of our regular operations. I didn’t realize how archaic this industry’s systems and processes were until she came along.”

“Sounds like I may need to poach Y/N from Valiant,” Billy said with a smug smile, his eyes fixed on you.

“Anvil couldn’t afford me,” you reciprocated with equal smugness.

Roger laughed, patting your arm. “We’re not giving her up without a fight.”

“Clearly,” Billy replied.

The expression on Billy’s face was new to you, you had no idea what he was thinking but you also didn’t want to waste any more of your time obsessing over him.

Roger leaned in closer, lowering his voice so others wouldn’t hear him. “Table 35. Those were the clients I told you about.” As you glanced over to the table he mentioned, your eyes met Billy’s. He was watching you intently, still with the unreadable mask on his face.

Ignoring Billy, you flashed a confident smile up at Roger. “Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

You turned back to the group, your gaze skipping past Billy’s. “It was a pleasure to meet you all. I hope you have a great evening.” Bidding everyone goodbye, you headed to Table 35.

***

An hour later you were on the terrace, enjoying the cold, crisp New York air that rattled your bone. You were exhausted. Networking took a lot out of you and now you just wanted to go home and soak in the tub. Davina, a natural extrovert, was still in the ballroom, flirting and socializing but you needed a few minutes of privacy so you had snuck outside to compose yourself.

“Congratulations on the promotion.”

Your jaw clenched as soon as you heard Billy’s voice from behind you. You turned around to look at him as he swaggered forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

“You never told me,” he remarked.

You shrugged your shoulders. “We didn’t tell each other a lot of things.”

“I get the distinct feeling you’re pissed at me but I don’t know why. Care to fill me in?”

“What reason would I have to be pissed at you?”

“You tell me. I’ve called you-”

“You’ve never called me,” you interjected.

“Fine. Texted. Whatever.” Billy took a step closer, forcing you to look up at him. Even in your fucking stilettos, he towered over you. “You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks now. Why the ghosting?”

“I just think it’s time I move on.”

Oh, Billy didn’t like that. His eyes grew darker, so dark they were almost pitch-black. “Really? You’ve got the next one lined up already?”

As much as you wanted to believe he was jealous, you knew that wasn’t the case. “We both know you don’t give a fuck about me so drop the fake jealousy bit.” You tried to walk past him but he grabbed your arm and pulled you close. You felt his angry breath skim over your skin as he glared down at you. “Let me go, Billy.”

“Why?” he snarled. “So you can go fuck Roger?”

“You really expect me to believe you’re jealous of me seeing someone else?” you snapped back. “Or is it because it’s Roger? He’s more successful than you, he’s your competitor, his company has been taking all the contracts you’ve been fighting for and now he’s got you beat in the one area you thought you excelled at. Fucking.” You angled forward on purpose, holding his gaze. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you go fuck Roger and leave me out of it?” You smiled up at him. “Or does Madani not let you stray?”

Understanding dawned on Billy’s face. “So that’s what this is about.”

Part Two

A/N - This is my first reader insert fic. Hope you guys enjoyed it. If you’d like me to tag you, please leave a comment or DM me.

If you created this GIF, please let me know so I can give proper credit :)

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo imagine #the punisher #reader insert #ben barnes #my fics

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wolken-himmel · 3 years ago

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In which Riddle has a hard time accepting the fact that his crush (Y/n) is much taller than him — especially because of Ace's relentless teasing.

Can he get over this pet-peeve and confess his feelings to (Y/n)?

Request by anon.

"Aw, imagine if Riddle and (Y/n) married!"

Ace had a giant grin on his lips, aimed to irritate the already furious Riddle even more. Deuce, who stood next to him, was glancing back and forth between Ace and Riddle, hoping that this wouldn't lead to a full-blown catastrophe that he would have to solve later.

Riddle crossed his arms, and his cheeks were a dark red. "Trappola," he pressed out through clenched teeth while doing his best to not appear too flustered by Ace's words.

A mischievous glint appeared in Ace's eyes. "(Y/n) would be the one to carry you bridal style, no?" he asked before immediately breaking out into wild cackling that left Riddle and Deuce speechless, the latter especially questioning if Ace wanted to die today.

"Shut up, you idiot!" Riddle growled, although his voice pitifully broke at the end.

"Ace," Deuce reprimanded as he stepped between them before Riddle could throw himself at Ace and tear out his throat in one sweep. A sigh escaped the blue-haired boy's lips while sweat trickled down his forehead from all the stress. "You should stop before the dorm-head explodes."

Ace shot his friend an innocent look, about to open his mouth again before he was interrupted by a new presence appearing beside them, having arrived unnoticed due to the three students being too busy with bickering. You tilted your titled to the side and crossed your arms, asking, "Stop with what?"

Riddle immediately stopped screaming when his eyes fell on you, and he froze in his movement. Slowly closing his mouth, he averted his gaze to the floor and began traipsing around. "(Y/n)!" he cried out, his voice an octave higher as he still avoided your gaze. Then, before you could ask if he was alright, he snapped around and hastily rushed off. "I—I should go..."

Awkward silence followed afterwards, especially from your side — confusion was all that occupied your mind. Just as you were about to open your mouth to ask what had happened here, Deuce beat you to it by loudly hissing, "Nope. Nope. This won't do."

"Deuce?" You shot him a worried frown, one that he only responded to with an exasperated groan. Meanwhile, Ace was laughing loudly that you thought he had gone mad. Slapping the red-head's shoulder to get him to shut up, you returned your attention to Deuce again to ask, "What's up?"

"(Y/n), help me..." Deuce whispered while burying his face in his palms, letting out a series of exasperated whines. "I can't stand by and try to stop Riddle from killing Ace any longer."

Ace rolled his eyes and let out a little scoff. "I'm not that bad."

"As I said," Deuce drawled while glaring at Ace with scorn and fury in his blue eyes. Although he continued to speak to you, his unwavering glare never left Ace's. "Our dormleader is even stricter whenever he's in a bad mood — and lately, he's always been in a bad mood."

You sighed, scratching the back of your neck. "I wonder what's up with Riddle..."

•••

A few days later, you were on your way to Heartslabyul to find your two idiot friends that had been babysitting your other idiot friend for the day. As you entered the front plaza of the dorm property, you were met with the dorm leader himself seemingly waiting for someone in front of the entrance.

You tilted your head to the side at the sight of Riddle, who had been avoiding you for the last days. Not intending to waste any of his time, you shot him a curt nod before walking past him; yet, his hand shot out and curled around your wrist, catching you off-guard. "(Y/n)," he said, his voice and expression unreadable as you turned around to face him. "I need to talk to you."

Surprised, your eyebrows quirked up. "Oh? Hello, Riddle!" you chirped, happy that he finally had decided to stop avoiding you. Turning around fully to face him properly, you shot him a bright smile. "What do you need?"

"Uhm— so I think my shoelaces are undone..." Riddle slowly removed his hand from your wrist to let his arm hang limply by his side again. His eyes never really met yours, always trained at the floor as if he was afraid of facing you truly. You quirked an eyebrow since you were a little bit taken aback by what he was implying. "And Ace causes me back problems... so would you be so nice and tie my shoelaces for me, please?"

Suspicious for real now, you tilted your head to the side and pursed your lips, which left him quite scared that you would laugh about him like Ace always did. He began trembling, but his expression never changed from that steely unreadable frown. "How does Ace cause you back problems—"

"Just do as I said!" he barked, and you winced.

Exhaling in defeat, you got onto your knees to grab the laces of his shoes that he wore instead of his boots for PE. "Okay... fine." Picking up the shoelaces of his left shoe, you quickly tied a knot before adding a neat bow on top. Your fingers moved quickly, and you soon were finished with the other shoe, too.

Just as you were about to get up, Riddle put a hand on your head to keep you on your knees. "No. Just stay there," he exclaimed, suddenly feeling much more confident. A grin spread on his face as you peered up at him curiously, wondering why you couldn't get back up again. The high of the moment gave him enough determination to do what he had planned all along. "Alright, I'm ready to do it."

"Do what?" you asked while furrowing your eyebrows. "And why do I have to keep kneeling like this?"

Riddle finally no longer had to think about the fact that you were taller than him — even if it was just for the moment. Taking a deep breath, he quickly blurted out, "I really like you. I really really like you." His cheeks grew redder the more he spoke, and you quickly caught on to what he was doing. Laughter spilt from your lips at the silly situation you had gotten yourself into, but Riddle remained serious as ever. His fists were shaking by the time he finished with his confession with a simple question. "So would you do me the honour of being my girlfriend?"

Amused, you merely retorted, "Can I... stand up again?"

Riddle grew irritated by your reply that didn't do anything in answering his question. His heart still wildly beating in his chest, he croaked out, "Only once you've told me your answer."

You nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "Of course! I'd love to be your girlfriend, Riddle!" you chimed, which left Riddle yapping for air in utter relief. He removed his hand from your head and allowed you to rise to your feet again, which you wasted no time in doing so. Giggling at his bashful expression, it was now your turn to extend your hand and pat his head. "You're really precious and cute—"

"I'm not cute!" he protested immediately.

"Fine, then you're handsome." Your smile softened, and so did his frown. You pulled back your hand, cooing, "Is that better?"

"M-Much better," Riddle replied shyly, his voice quiet and meek. So, it was surprising when he let out a loud shriek upon you wrapping your arms around him and raising him up into the air, all the while hugging him close to you. The dorm leader immediately began thrashing around in your arms, furious screams escaping his throat. He would have collared you if it weren't for you restraining him with your hug. "Hey! Let me down this instant!"

"No~" you cooed, laughing. "And there's nothing you can do about it!"

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst x you #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #reader insert #y/n #disney twst #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst riddle #twst riddle rosehearts #twst riddle x reader #twisted wonderland riddle #female reader

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apocalypticgargoyle · 4 years ago

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𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐔𝐌 𝐈 ↟ 𝐓𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞

↠ summary: After fleeing from the regime taking over the castle, you find yourself under the protection of the renowned Blood God, Technoblade.

↠ fantasy au, slowburn romance

↠ pairing: c!Techno x fm!reader

↠ tw: blood, mentions of gore, mentions of violence

↠ wc: ~2.3k

a/n: This is actually a pretty self-indulgent thing so no characters or plotlines will really be accurate. As always, my series(es) are at the mercy of my inbox so if you have any comments/ideas/want to make a moodboard, let me know! Happy reading :)

♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

The leaves crunched beneath your feet with every dragging step, your strides heavy and uneven as you clutched your side. Sticky ribbons of crimson threaded through your fingers, oozing from between your ribs as each movement sent a new flash of white, stabbing pain to echo through your body. Your toes were growing numb, and your vision was blurring at the edges.

The snow stirred pink in the steep trenches you had begun to cut into the earth. As your lungs burned with each gulping breath, you wondered how long you could make it in this state. Where had you even been going in the first place? You couldn’t remember at this point, only that you were running.

Each time you figured you could go on no longer, your body somehow managed to carry you further. The uphill incline you were now grappling with left your knees buried and the chill of hypothermia began to take effect.

Bright flairs torn open the darkness of the sky, a sign they were looking for you in the woods now. Surely, they would see the trail of struggle you had left behind and would follow you. The shrieking noise of the lights scrapped against your eardrums, adding to the intense beating of your heart already pounding against your damaged ribs.

Your ice-cold fingers reached for the trunks of the slender trees masking your identity, hoping for any signs of leverage to propel yourself forward and away from the noise of the bloodhounds and nearby circuits of soldiers and their braying steeds. The light from the flairs illuminated the scenery around you, the shadows of the trees stretching across the snow like bony limbs aching to entangle their prey.

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as searing pain rippled through one of your legs. Tears stung your eyes as you avoided looking at the flesh now torn from your worn body as you dislodged your knee from a tree root buried in the snow. The frustration weighing on your tired body was overcoming your earlier adrenaline.

You scorned yourself as you looked down at the blood seeping from your mangled limbs and into the crystal snow. So much blood, you thought, finding it difficult to lift your head as you propelled yourself further up the hill. The dogs were nearing your location, the flairs becoming more sporadic as if they knew exactly where you were. Maybe your mind was draining as your blood further spread against your skin.

You had lost feeling in your legs, the warmth of your blood pooling in your shoes was no longer a reality check for you. Your eyelids felt as heavy as stone as your chest ached for rest, a burn of exhaustion settling in your lungs. Your knees buckled beneath you, digging into the blanket of white as your body sighed in relief at stopping. You knew you needed to move further. You needed to put more distance between you and the men, but you were so tired.

As your body began to fold in on itself, you could barely make out a figure standing before you. Animalistic eyes of panic and confusion burned into your figure. His cloak drifted against his stature in the nipping winter breeze. Neither of you moved at first, your cheeks burning from your tears and the cold. He watched you, unsure of your next move or if you even had the life force to pick yourself up enough to be a threat.

You weren’t sure how, but suddenly you found yourself staring at the night sky, your corpse cradled by the icy snowdrifts. Large flakes of translucent white flakes made it seem as if the stars were falling towards you, swirling around the tree limbs and avoiding their grasp. As the black sky began to blur your vision, your body began to feel lighter, the urge to relax becoming overwhelming as you no longer heard the dogs, only the sound of the snow hitting the ground could break through your calm as your eyelids drifted shut.

Bright light streamed into your room, burning your eyes slightly as you came to. Your mind panicked, realizing the sweet smell infiltrating your senses was completely unfamiliar to you. You hesitated to reopen your eyes, your ears picking up on a quiet scrapping noise somewhere in the room you were laying. Your body was stiff; sore even. You could feel someone else in the room. You could tell the other presence wasn’t paying you any mind, but the fact that they were there startled you. Could they be waiting to kill you? Did it matter if you were dead anyway?

You finally mustered enough courage to open your eyes, a bare wood ceiling staring back at you. You turned your head to the side, finally spotting the other person. You could tell by the broadness of his shoulders that it was the man in the woods. Images from that night flashed into your mind as you looked at him. The look of worry that had painted his features into pitted darkness was wiped clean, instead, a healthy calm settled over his face.

His feet were kicked up at the end of your bed, a book resting on his lap as he leaned back in an old chair. He held a bright green apple and a knife, lazily cutting a slice for himself as his eyes skimmed the pages like he’d read the words over and over in the past. A blush crept to your cheeks as your gaze traveled to the part of his chest peeking from beneath his open shirt. His pink hair was braided back with a hint of messiness like the escaping tendrils were planned. What wasn’t tied back hung freely around his strong shoulders.

It scorned you to think in such a way, but you figured you really were dead and some Roman god was waiting to send you to the Fields of Mourning, or, more accurately in your case, Tartarus.

As you moved to sit up, pain spiked throughout your body, joints aching with soreness and the sharpness of your wounds signaling your nerve endings. You groaned, attempting to fight through your instinct to cry. The man watched you, an eyebrow raised in your direction as his deadpanned expression surveyed your actions. He cut another piece of apple off, the blade pressing against the pad of his thumb without bother.

“You should probably hold still,” he stated, ruby irises flashing over your pathetic state. You eyed him carefully before lowering yourself back into the pillows. You reached up to touch the cut that you knew would scar from one of the men. Their blade had sliced across your cheek; a failed attempt to decapitate you. Your brows furrowed slightly as your fingers moved into your hair, finding it crudely cut near the bottom of your ears. You looked at him, mustering the panic you felt into your expression. His eyes softened in guilt. “I’m sorry. I had to hide you rather quickly after you passed out. It worked,” he mumbled the last part.

You swallowed; the dryness of your throat felt like sandpaper as you opened your mouth to speak. “Where’s my bag?” You croaked; your voice as foreign to you as the man sitting before you.

He wet his lips as he sat forward in the chair, settling his feet on the ground and his elbows on his knees. You watched his muscles flex as he moved. You could tell he was no stranger to manual labor, and by the slight dusting of sunburn painting his nose beneath his freckles, you figured he usually spent more time outside. The sunspots reminded you of your friend, Dream; a man that now helped to lead the tetrarchy dismantling the kingdom.

“I’ve hidden it. Just until I know you won’t kill me, or until you’re better,” he answered plainly. “I know what nightshade can do.” You narrowed your eyes at him slightly, your fingers curling around the soft blankets covering you. He stood, sticking the book into a spot in the array of shelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling. “I seem to be sheltering our local Locusta, huh?” He quipped.

You wet your lips. “Just because I travel with nightshade doesn’t make me an Emperor killer,” you grumbled, watching the way his shirt gave little heed to his strong frame. The curtains moved in the slight breeze swirling into the room.

The man moved toward you, dragging the chair closer to your head. “They sure went after you like you were,” he stated bluntly.

You perked an eyebrow at him. “From one point of view, it could seem like that…” you jested.

He smirked slightly, shaking his head before pulling back your covers. You almost shrieked at the sight of all the bandages twisting around your limbs. You wiggled your toes, sighing in relief that you paralyzed from the waist down. If you didn’t move, you didn’t hurt, but as soon as you angled yourself upward to lean on your elbows, your whole body protested in pain. The man skimmed his fingers along the bandages wrapping around your shin. You could practically feel the heat of his body seeping into your own.

You watched his delicate fingers smooth an edge that was ruffled from the sheets and you moving about. “This one was rather deep,” he commented, his fingers then traveling towards your side as his ruby eyes danced from yours to your bandages. Your breath hitched at his closeness, his presence commanding. “A friend of mine helped me stitch you up over here.”

“Were you the one that dressed me?” You snarked, letting your eyes travel the length of his body.

He chuckled lowly, pulling the blankets back over you and sitting back in the chair. He tucked some of his hair away from his face, kicking his feet up on the bed again. “I had to,” he answered. You chewed on your bottom lip, your eyebrows giving away your slight flirtations. You knew he was only humoring you because you were his injured little bird. “I’ve seen a naked woman before. Calm down,” he grumbled.

You smirked, tucking your arms behind your head. “Oh, you have now?” He bit into the apple he was holding, the blush creeping to his eyes not going without notice by you. “How long have I been out, oh great Asclepius?” You joshed, making him chew the inside of his cheek.

His eyes drifted towards the window in thought before slightly furrowing his brows. “Just over a week,” he replied. “Should I be concerned about your knowledge of Roman history over Greek?”

You scoffed, partially in disbelief for how much time had elapsed, partially in response to his question. “Should I be concerned of your favoring of Greek history?” The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. “Perhaps we’re just destined to be emulations of each other then?”

“Maybe so,” he concurred. The stoicism of his façade seemed to crack around you. As he smiled at you, he bore small fangs, something that seemed all too familiar to you. Your mind began to race, attempting to place his features with a name or, at the very least, a legend.

Your mind clicked, Dream’s voice flashing into your mind from when the two of you were sitting in a tavern, discussing the Blood God of the western woods. Your heart began to pick up speed as reality had settled in of how vulnerable to you in front of such a beast. Your mind ran blank and cold as you looked at him, suddenly terrified that if you dare close your eyes again, he would kill you.

You had not expected him to be so… alluring. You’d heard stories of his piglin appearance, his wild tusks, and even cloven hooves. The man before you looked like a character pulled from an ancient storybook, not someone who had torn some of your acquaintances' limb from limb. Dream always mocked a prayer to the old gods each time his name was mentioned. They told stories of the man in orphanages like the ones you’d been passed between.

Now, as you sat like a wounded animal in the gaze of the Blood God, you wondered which of the pair of you would kill the other first. “Not feeling so chatty anymore, Locusta?” He teased.

You could feel the color draining from your face. “I know who you are.” You swallowed harshly. “Why did you help me?”

He sighed, chuckling to himself. “I thought you were pretty,” he teased. You folded your hands on your chest, looking up at the ceiling once again. “I no longer live up to my legacy,” he answered.

“I’m a killer.” You turned your head to look at him, receiving his indifferent expression head-on. “I could kill you.”

He wet his lips. “I could kill you,” he mirrored. “Wouldn’t it be more fun if we didn’t, though?”

You stared at him blankly. “Is this a trick?”

He scoffed. “I would have left you out in the snow if I planned on killing you. I would have given you up when the Royal Guard came knocking down my door,” he paused for a second. His eyes analyzing you as you controlled your breathing. “I would have slit your throat at the sight of the Mad King’s mark. Trust me, I have no intention of killing you.”

Your fingers reached to brush against the branded scar on your shoulder; a triquetra knot symbolizing your loyalty to the Mad King and his sons. It set you apart from the normal guard; you were an advisor and a trusted associate of the King. After the fall of the monarchy, you’d been on the run because of it. What you’d once worn as a badge of honor was now proving to be the sigil of your downfall.

Despite your mellowing fear of him, your mind searched for answers. “Who are you if not the Blood God?” You questioned, the silence between the two of you breaking hesitantly.

“Techno,” he replied, his eyes searching your face as if he were looking for your approval.

You pushed yourself to roll onto your side, gazing at him with calculating eyes, wanting to understand him completely. “I like Asclepius better,” you whispered.

#technoblade x reader #techno fanfic #techno x reader #techno x you #techno x y/n #fantasy au #tw blood #tw gore

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tennessoui · 3 years ago

Note

If you're up up to it, how about obikin and 42?

yes!!! Prompt 42 is Star-Crossed Lovers, but star-crossed lovers are soooooo out now. 'Crossed the stars to be lovers' is IN, baby!!

(2.7k)

Someone has left a letter on his bunk. Obi-Wan as a rule doesn’t get letters. Actually, as a rule, Obi-Wan has never wanted to receive a letter in his entire life. They all have datapads for a reason, and it’s because they’ve evolved past the need for flimsi and ink when there are means at their disposal to deliver messages near instantly.

So no, Obi-Wan has never wanted to see a letter sitting on his bunk. He finds the whole thing rather trying, actually, the Flimsi Friends program the Jedi Order established fifty standard years ago in an attempt to connect their Jedi with others across the branches through letters. Obi-Wan had scorned the idea as an Initiate living comfortably in the Temple on Coruscant, and his opinion hadn’t really changed once he began his tenure at the AgriCorps.

Kabre notices before anyone else. “Oh, hey! Obi-Wan’s got a letter.”

“Finally,” Aldran grins, craning his neck from where he’s collapsed on his bunk. “We only signed you up months ago.”

“Really, you shouldn’t have,” Obi-Wan says. “Really.”

“Oh, come now, little Obi,” Kabre pats him on the head. Obi-Wan is twenty-five and of a perfectly average height, but Kabre is close to three heads taller than him and of an indeterminable age. “Think of it as an opportunity to strengthen your connection to the living Force.”

“Through the Flimsi Friends program,” Obi-Wan deadpans, raising an eyebrow up at his peer.

“Getting letters from Susa is the highlight of my week,” Aldran tells the ceiling dreamily.

Obi-Wan shares a commiserating eyeroll with Kabre. “That’s because you’re in love with her.”

“Who wouldn’t be? She’s so sweet and kind and pretty and she has all these stories from her adventures in the ExploraCorps--”

“Alright, who got him talking about Susa?” Lathrum asks from the door, sighing in exasperation as he makes his way over to his own bunk. “It’ll be a standard day before he’s done.”

“Hey!” Aldran gasps, offended and already close to sulking. “Whatever. Fine. Everyone’s just jealous that Susa and I are in love because y’all are never going to find something nearly as good as we have.”

“Obi-Wan finally got a letter from the program,” Kabre announces to Lathrum. “We were just saying that he should at least try to be excited.”

“Yes, perhaps you’ll meet your own Susa,” Lathrum smirks, peeling off his dirt-covered tunic. His next words come out muffled. “Force help us if that happens.”

“No need to worry,” Obi-Wan says dryly, picking up the letter and studying it. “They appear to be a youngling.”

“A youngling wrote you?” Kabre asks, barely restrained glee in his deep baritone.

Aldran guffaws from his bunk. “Well now you have to write back!”

“Knowing your luck, it’s probably a youngling from the Jedi Temple,” Lathrum says. “Dear Obi-Wan, Today someone chose me to be their Padawan and I’m one step closer to being a Jedi Knight. How are your plants doing?”

“Yes, alright,” Obi-Wan shakes his head, smiling slightly. He had met Lathrum when he was fourteen and still bitterly disappointed about his new position at the AgriCorps, and Lathrum has never let him forget it even after all these years.

He sits down on his mattress and pulls out the letter. It’s short at least. The handwriting is atrocious but the spelling is worse.

Dear Obi-Wan,

Hi! My name is Anakin Skywalker. I am nine years old. How are you doing today? My master says I have to write this to practice my spelling. I think not everyone can learn Basic, but he says I have to and that all Jedi masters know how. I didn’t ever know there was all this stuff I have to do to be a Jedi. I’ve been here for weeks now and I still don’t have my lightsaber!

I think the temple is really weird. It’s so big and cold. I miss my friends back home. Me and Kitster would go crazy exploring this place but no one here wants to play with me. Master Jinn says not to worry and I’m not! The temple is just really big and I’m cold all the time and I miss my mom. Master Jinn found me on Tatooine and took me here to make me a Jedi which is great, but everyone here already knows each other and I don’t think they like me much. I know the Jedi Council doesn’t. They didn’t even want to train me but Master Jinn inzi--incis--said he would.

Do you want to be friends?

Would you explore the temple with me?

Write back soon please,

Anakin

“Well?” Kabre asks, when Obi-Wan finishes silently reading the letter.

Obi-Wan sighs and rubs a hand over the jagged penmanship. It’s all too obvious that this Anakin Skywalker is...painfully young, churlish and childish and achingly lonely.

Obi-Wan sighs again, harder, as he looks up at his bunkmates. “Where do we keep the blasted flimsi?”

---

Dear Anakin,

Thank you for your letter, it was very nice to read. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m 25 years old. I hope you are settling in at the Temple better by the time this letter finds you. I have to admit I was very surprised to hear that you are nine years old and have been allowed to train to be a Jedi. That’s unheard of. I’m sure you’ll be an excellent Jedi. There must have been a reason your master chose you. The Force wills it and it will be.

It is understandable to miss your mother and your old home. When I became a member of the AgriCorps, I spent the first few months missing the Jedi temple on Coruscant a lot. It was the only home I ever had. But we make others as we go. The Temple is big and I suppose very cold compared to a desert planet--I looked up Tatooine here and there wasn’t much information, but I could never live somewhere with two suns! I’d be burned to a crisp in a matter of hours.

The upside to the Temple being big is that there are a lot of hiding spots and footholds for climbing. Try the pillars in the entrance hall. They connect to each other. My friends and I would run around on top of them for hours, although I think that was mostly because we were too scared to get down. You should ask Knight Eerin about it, or Knight Vos. They’re usually in the Mess Hall if not the Halls of Healing.

I’m sure Master Jinn has you busy with meditation and classes, but I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Best,

Obi-Wan Kenobi

---

Dear Obi-Wan,

I was really excited to get your letter! I didn’t know it would take so long but it’s been ages! So much stuff has happened. I finally finished my remedial classes and Master says we can focus more time of katas now! I can’t wait to learn how to fight! And Master Windu smiled at me the other day when he saw me in the hall because Master told him about my grades!

I asked Knight Eerin about you and she showed me some pictures she had on her datapad of you when you lived at the Temple. You look really pretty cool! I have blond hair and blue eyes if you were wondering. My mom always said she thought I was going to be really tall. What do you look like now? What do you do at the AgriCorps? Why did you leave the Temple? Knight Eerin says you need to give her a comm call soon. She didn’t sound very happy.

I made a friend! Knight Vos’ padawan was there when I talked to him about what you told me, and she came with me to go exploring! She’s so cool. She’s been helping me with my katas too.

Apparently I won’t get my lightsaber for years! That’s so long!

Anyway I have to go and do my reading now but please write back faster this time, Obi-Wan!

--Ani

----

Obi-Wan never reacts quite as happily and dramatically as Aldrin does when he sees a letter from Anakin on his bunk in the evenings, but over the years everyone learns not to disturb Obi-Wan on those nights.

The first letter Obi-Wan receives from Anakin after the boy turns eighteen includes his commlink frequency hastily crammed at the bottom of the page. If you want, Anakin has scribbled.

“Finally,” Obi-Wan jokes when the line connects and Anakin answers breathlessly. “No offense to you, dear one, and you have come quite a ways since you were a youngling, but your handwriting is still atrocious. I’d much rather talk to you like this than try to puzzle out what you’ve written.”

Anakin splutters and then stutters out in a voice slower and deeper than Obi-Wan had expected, “I didn’t know you had an accent, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan finds that he likes that voice saying his name in that way.

That’s the first sign of trouble.

----

Anakin sends a photo of his knighting ceremony. Obi-Wan wants to cry with pride. His friends tease him about it relentlessly. “You look like I did the day I married Susa,” Aldrin crows and takes a picture of Obi-Wan’s blushing, laughing face. Later, Obi-Wan reluctantly sends it to Anakin.

“I’m jealous of your friends,” Anakin confesses with an exhale of static. “They get to see you everyday.”

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, unable to say more. Unable to admit that he’s thought the same thing about Anakin’s master at the Temple. Unable to deny it though.

They move onto safer topics, ones that make Obi-Wan’s chest feel less tight.

----

“Jedi Knights are forbidden to have romantic attachments,” Kabre tells him apropos of nothing one late evening when they’re leaning against the railings of their cabin.

Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to pretend to not know what his friend is talking about. Anakin is twenty-three now. They call each other as often as possible, whenever they have enough free time. Thinking about Anakin, somewhere out in the galaxy, makes Obi-Wan feel dangerous things. Dangerous, insidious, illogical things.

“Yes,” he agrees.

“Everything you’ve ever told me about this boy makes me think he’s in love with you,” Kabre says. “And the way you tell it makes me think you’re in love with him too.”

“Kabre, I…”

“I’m not asking you to deny it to me, Obi-Wan. You don’t need to defend yourself. You know no one cares if you’ve gone and fallen in love with your flimsi friend. It happens. And Force knows there’s no way you could be more insufferable than Aldrin and Susa.”

“He’s a Jedi Knight, Kabre,” Obi-Wan looks away, off over the fields. “I know what that means.”

----

When Anakin is twenty-four, Obi-Wan walks into his room to see a letter on his pillow. He blinks in surprise. He hasn’t gotten a letter since they petered out in favor of comm calls with Anakin.

But he’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.

He sits down to read it.

Dear Obi-Wan,

I find myself growing weary of Knighthood. I love my Padawan, I love the missions, I love the fighting. But I love something else more. I have for almost as long as I can remember.

I’ve been looking through the old letters from you. I’ve kept them all. I know Jedi should not have material attachments, but I found that I could no more throw them away than give my lightsaber to a Sith. They make up our story.

You were the first friend I ever had at the Temple. I don’t quite think you realized that then, and you may not even realize it now. But you were. I would get a letter from you and feel warm for weeks afterwards.

Actually, everything I love about the Temple and the Jedi you gave to me. My friends now, indirectly. All the hiding spots. Moving meditation.

When I got my kyber crystal, I wanted to tell you before anyone else. When my Padawan braid was cut, I gave it to my master, but wished I had something I could give to you too.

That was the day I really admitted to myself that you already have all of me.

Obi-Wan, I’m in love with you. I love you more every time we talk. Disengaging the comms at the end of the night hurts like losing my hand all over again. I love you, I love you.

And I have been a coward about it for too many years. I was afraid that you would reject me, think me too rash and young and foolish. But I know what I want. You told me in one of your letters that you believed I lived off of a single-minded desire to achieve my goals and that I would let nothing stand in the way.

I do not plan on starting now, if you will have me that is. I dream of nothing more than to feel your hands on my face, to listen to the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

I will not disrespect the ways of the Jedi by loving you quietly, when I know you are my deepest, strongest attachment. One that I will not shake, even if I lived to be as old as Master Yoda himself.

If you find that you feel the same way, I will leave the Jedi Order tomorrow and meet you on Bandomeer. If you do not, then I understand and will never speak of this again. I am something of an expert after all these years of loving you silently from afar.

Yours sincerely, yours always, yours completely,

Anakin

Obi-Wan traces the words with a shaking hand. He doesn’t know he’s crying until a tear falls onto the flimsi. Oh, Anakin. Oh, his brave, foolish Anakin.

Will he really be so selfish as to allow Anakin to leave his Knighthood for him? His padawan, his home?

But the knowledge that Anakin loves him is a heady, addictive feeling. Obi-Wan has never truly gotten the things he wants. He loves his life now, of course. But he hadn’t wanted it.

And he loves Anakin.

He loves him terribly.

He reaches for a piece of flimsi and a pen.

----

Anakin will be the first to admit he’s been in a foul mood for a few standard weeks now. He’d sent that letter to Obi-Wan--Force, why had he sent that letter to Obi-Wan, obviously the man will never want to talk to him again now--and then immediately Ahsoka and him had been called in for a mission.

It had been awful and disgusting. Anakin is covered in mud from head to toe, and his padawan doesn’t look any better. And worst of all, he had had no time at all to comm Obi-Wan. No time at all to see how the man had taken his confession. It feels like he’s been holding his breath for days.

But he’s at the Temple now. He can clean himself off and call Obi-Wan incessantly until the man answers. Anakin can’t keep living like this.

“Letter for you, Master,” Ahsoka says as he enters their quarters. She’d been sent ahead while Anakin had finished docking the ship, and now she’s sitting at the table perfectly clean.

Anakin thinks his heart stops at these words and then it starts beating as fast as it ever has before. “Where?”

“I put it on your bed,” Ahsoka peers up at him with a furrowed brow. “Are you okay, Skyguy? You look a bit--”

But Anakin’s gone, already tearing into his room. There on the bedspread is a letter. Obi-Wan’s written him a letter.

Anakin has to try opening it three times before he finally gets his fingers to cooperate. It’s very short.

Dearest One, Obi-Wan has written.

I’ll meet you here tomorrow on Bandomeer. I will be waiting.

Forever yours,

Obi-Wan

Anakin smiles and feels like he could cry or sing or dance or scream from all the joy that’s welled up in his chest at this small handful of words Obi-Wan has given him. They’re everything and more.

Mindful of the mud on his person, he puts the letter gently on his bed and walks back out to the common area. Ahsoka is right where he left her.

“Okay, now you just look scary,” she says, pointing a fork at him. “Stop smiling like that.”

Anakin lets his grin die. He won’t relish this next part, but it’s for Obi-Wan. It’s so he can be with Obi-Wan. It's necessary. “Snips,” he says, sitting down opposite her. “We need to talk.”

#asks #prompt fill #i could literally write like 20k of this tbh #i had a few more letters planned but i knew i needed to hurry it up #anyway #sw #obikin #this is also as usual highly unedited all mistakes are artistic and actually great

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yandere-society · 4 years ago

Text

Scream

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: It’s been a year since your mother was slaughtered, with no leads pointing to any possible suspects. It’s been an up-hill battle for you to accept what happened— especially with no answers or closure— and the citizens of your hometown have been sleeping with one eye open ever since. But now, the mystery killer has decided to make an anniversary visit, and is making it known that they not only have a dire love for infamous horror films... but they also have their targets set on you and all of your closest friends.

Word count: 8k

Headline: Small Town Woodsbroro Is Waking Up Screaming Once Again!

Warnings: dark themes; Gore; Smut; Crackhead humor (only because I promised my bff I’d give her an honorable death scene); Foul language; Jungkook is psychotic; Graphic depictions of him killing your mom/friends; we’re also going to pretend that it’s outrageously easy to get away with murder; dont fact check me on anything you read here; rough sex; mask kink.

Admin: @tatertotthethot

Baley was high as a fucking kite.

So high, that she didn’t care about it being 1am as she blasted the Cha-Cha slide at full volume.

So high, that she was completely disregarding her lactose intolerance whilst making herself a triple layered, sharp cheddar grilled cheese that was bound to have her ass blasting right back off by 3am.

So, outrageously stoned, that she was totally unaware of the masked killer standing just outside the glass doors in her kitchen, watching her every move.. With her beat up, hogtied boyfriend laying out next to him.

“Now it’s time to fawnky! To the right now—“

She crab walked along with the instructions, spatula in hand.

“To the left!”

“Take it back now, y’all.”

Ghostface grimaced beneath his mask, eyes stalking the stoned woman with disdain. She was the epitome of “crackhead energy” and it pissed him off how much she resembles you. It only makes sense, being as you two have been best friends since kindergarten— probably soulmates in a past life— but it is within that fact that Ghostface has grown to absolutely fucking loath her.

She’s too much like you. She keeps up with your humor and probably has more of your heart than he, himself, has earned a place in yet. He knows good and well that if it ever came down to you having to pick between him and her, you’ll pick her.

That simply will not do. That’s exactly why he is about to rid you of that option— or, as he sees it, the dilemma.

He growled and swung at the air, wishing he could just bust in and end her already.

“How could you be in love with that creature?” He hissed at Taehyung, the built-in voice box beneath his mask altering it enough to remain anonymous. The question was quite hypocritical, being as he was in love with a girl that most would consider Baley’s second-half, but only you were an exception to being so.. abnormal.

“Mmmph—“ Taehyung drearily gurgled out from beneath the strip of tape over his mouth, tears breaching his eyes as he watched Baley’s precious, uncoordinated ass do the “Charlie brown”. It looked more like a fucked up gallop.

“What is the sex like, dude?” Ghostface ripped the duck tape off Taehyung’s split lips. “That’s a serious question.”

“Boo bear..” was all Taehyung could muster up, more scared for her than himself.

Ghostface gagged and slapped the tape right back on with a little too much force, having to take a second to regain his composure before pressing the call button on Taehyung’s phone. The Spotify music thankfully cut off as her phone rang out from the counter.

Baley was only upset for a split before she spotted the name on her phone screen, and was quick to answer it with a sickening amount of glee.

“Angel muffin!” She cooed. Gross

“Hi, boo bear..” Ghostface flipped his middle finger up at Taehyung before clutching his Bowie knife back down to his side.

“Oh my God, What was that? You sound like Corpse, mixed with the bear from Five Nights At Freddy’s.”

“The bears name is Freddy, dumbass.”

Baley neck rolled back in offense.

“Are you trying to get pegged or prolapsed? Might wanna remember who the fuck you’re talking to, the next time you call this cellular.” She snapped, hanging the phone up with a viscous pout. She still somehow managed to pick back up on the beat and cha-cha’d real smooth as she took the pot off the eye and turned the stove off, visibly upset.

Ghostface stood there for a moment, processing what she just said, before turning towards Taehyung.

“She claps your cheeks?”

Taehyung glared back at the screaming-ghost mask, bracing himself when a gloved hand reached out to once again rip the ductape off his lips.

“It’s not sus!” He immediately defended. “I have a gspot up there for a reason. I am not ashamed to use it.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that!” The killer snapped out. “why would you let that.. unstable individual insert something into your rectum—“

“You’ve got a whole lotta nerve calling somebody else unstable,” Taehyung deadpanned, and with that, his mouth was once again resealed shut.

He called Baley’s phone again, just as she was about to take a bite of the sandwhich that she’ll, unfortunately, never get to eat.

“What, fucker?” She scorned.

“I can see you.”

“Oh, yeah?” She sarcastically spat. “Then what am I doing?”

She clenched her buttcheeks in and hunched her back out, her body resembling a question mark, before vigorously gyrating her body- mostly just her spine. Jungkook knows from the various tiktoks you’ve shown him that he was witnessing the inverted-twerk.

“Hm? Tell me, fuckboy. What am I doing?”

”Something a fucking cockroach does after I spray Raid on it. How the fuck do you clench your buttcheeks like that?”

Baley halted in mid thrust, surprised but not exactly fearful (yet) as she whizzed around to face the sliding glass doors that led into her back yard. It was pitch black outside, and all she could see was her own reflection starring back at her. She was also too high to care about the fact that she had the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and the strings pulled all the way out, which only exposed the center of her face in a squished circle.

“I use my glutes. You know that. Why haven’t you come in?” She asked, not superstitious but a lil-stitious.

“This isn’t Taehyung.”

“Okay, Isn’t Taehyung. Why haven’t you come in?”

“Because I want you to come out here.” The killer responded, grinning at the visible unease finally creeping into the girls stance.

“Okay, babe— I hate to be a bummer here, but considering that today is the one-year anniversary of Ms. (L/N)’s murder, this isn’t very Cash Money of you. Can you please just come in and.. stop?”

He let out a chuckle, a dark one.

“Boo bear?”

“What, Isn’t Taehyung?”

“Turn on the outside lights.“

Ghostface put the speaker on the phone and sat it on the ground as he crouched over Taehyung, pulling him to sit up straight. He watched as Baley apprehensively padded over to the light switch by the door. He could practically feel her heart beating in-sync with Taehyung’s racing one as he placed the knife to his neck, smiling beneath his disguise.

The lights flickered on, and she screamed, terror finally bringing the seriousness out in the situation.

“HANG UP OR MOVE A MUSCLE AND HE DIES!” The killer roared, knowing she was still too high for her survival instincts to kick in. Any sober, sane individual would’ve probably caught on to the fact that they were gonna die no matter what she did. What was just making it easier for himself, knowing her dumbass was gonna comply.

“W-What do you want me to do?”

See?

“Be a good girl, and come here.”

“Quit trying to seduce me, you sick son of a bitch. My boyfriend’s literally right there!” She croaked out, voice shrill with exasperation.

The killer plunged the knife into Taehyung’s arm, making him jolt to life with a pain-filled howl. Baley began sobbing out, apologizing profusely.

“Your boyfriends going to get gutted like a fish if I have to repeat myself. Drop the phone and come here.” Ghostface seethed, wrenching the knife back out on the last word.

Baley reluctantly— and stupidly— did as told. She let the phone fall from her hand, then jumped out of her skin as the Bluetooth reconnected in the house and started playing WAP. She tried not to sing along despite the situation as she padded over, shaky hands rising to cover her mouth.

“N-Now what?” She asked.

“I just figured your last words should be said face-to-face. Is there anything you two would like to say to each other?” He asked, that being the only generosity he’d be willing to spare as he ripped the tape away from Tae’s mouth, one last time.

Baley dropped to her knees, so much despair in her eyes. So many things she wanted to say. She recollected herself and caught her breath in just enough time to utter final goodbye: “I-I-I said certified freak..”

Tae’s eyes closed as a single tear escaped, nodding his head in understanding. “Seven days a week...”

“GAH!” The killer roared out, wrenching Taehyung’s head back to slice his throat before shoving him away and lunging at Baley.

She landed on her back with him on top, and he wasted no time as he began slashing her apart, in any way he possibly could. He let all the pent up rage and annoyance he felt towards her, out on her body. It was worse than the brutality he inflicted on to your mother this time last year. He’d only stabbed her a total of 19 times— one for every year she failed you as a mother. With Baley, he didn’t stop tearing into her until WAP ended. And damn, did it feel good. He finally felt like he’d purged his soul clean.

This may all seem reckless, but Jungkook was actually just lucky. In order to mask his true motive behind all this, he had to find another one to cover it with. It was simply convenient that Baley’s father is the town mayor, and after a little digging, he made the grand discovery that he was also having a secret affair with (Y/N)’s mother. In fact, the mayor had several mistresses throughout the town.

Jungk—er, Ghostface.. chopped off one of Baley’s fingers and slid the glass door shut, writing the same words on it that he wrote on your mother’s bathroom mirror.

CHEATING PIG!!

Yes. When he did this last year, the police had to dissect through your mother’s long line of past sexual partners, and had to track down the father you never met for an interview. No leads came about, because it was all time wasted, anyways. Now, with this new addition, the mayor will not only have to set the scandals ablaze again by having to publicly confess his infidelity to the town and police, but they’ll have to lead on another pointless investigation for every woman he’s cheated with— over a dozen of them. They’ll have to also charge him with withholding crucial information from the investigation as well, but what’s so fucking comical about it all is that.. NONE of it has anything to do with any of this. It’ll just be another cold case with no leads.

And maybe, just MAYBE you’ll be smart enough to ditch this place and come with him. That’s all he wanted. You have nothing left and nothing to come back to now, and as long as you give in to him and leave, there won’t have to be anymore lives taken. You could start a new life and never experience another hell like the one he’s creating here. If only you’d say yes.

“May you both continue to clap each other’s cheeks in the deepest depths of hell,” he told the mauled corpses as he walked off, so happy to have Baley gone that he almost wanted to skip to his car.

Now, he will go home and clap your cheeks to complete the cycle.

—

“Damnit, bitch, pick up,” you huffed in frustration as Baley’s FaceTime continued to roll over, telling you that she’s unavailable. You thought you could power through today with your newly adapted ability to suppress shit, but it was hard when you’re left alone to reminisce. You just couldn’t shake the fact that the date on today’s calendar marked the same day that your heart, soul, and peace of mind was so horribly torn apart.

It didn’t help that you also missed your mother terribly. She wasn’t always the best, but she still loved you, and you loved her. Oh, God. Mom—

No. No. Don’t think about her.

You tried calling Baley one more time and couldn’t fight off the tremble in your hands, nor the tears at your water ducts as it rung through till the end. Damnit.

You couldn’t be angry. She doesn’t owe you the company— especially since you two have already been FaceTiming all day. But she was good at distractions, always able to drag you out of your shell of deprecation with her chaotic sense of humor. She is one of the only two people you have in your life that are capable of doing such, but you knew you’d get scolded if you blew up the others phone. Jungkook hates being hounded and rushed, having already told you that he’ll be there any minute. But he’s taking way too fucking long it seems, and you just hate sitting here, waiting.

You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. The feeling first crept up on you this time last year and never left. You felt so venerable to the cruel world when you’re alone, especially since the maniac is still out there.

You still resent the police department for practically giving up on your mother’s case after 9 months. “Cheating pig” was the only lead they got and yet, it pointed them no where. She wasn’t in a relationship. She didn’t even like relationships. And still, they deemed it a randomized attack— no leads, no motives. Nothing. Just a local woman stabbed in the chest 19 times while taking a shower. Like some Psycho remake. No signs of forced entry. No evidence of sexual assault. Just a very passionate, yet unexplainable massacre with a useless message left behind.

It doesn’t make sense. And even though you wish to never have the attacker come back, you can feel it in your bones that they will wish to clarify it one day.

“Fuck it.” You breathed out, heart slamming against your chest and paranoia gnawing at your insides as you quickly scrolled to Jungkook contact. But then, just as your thumb twitched to press the call button, your door bell rung and you sprung up to your feet, making a mad dash to the door. You checked the peep hole first, just knowing it was gonna be him, but was disappointed when it wasn’t. That still didn’t keep a rush of relief from washing over you when you did see who it really was, though. You forced a welcoming smile on to your face as you unlocked all 7 bolts from the door, and opened it to greet Namjoon and Hobi with a hug.

They were cops, currently in their uniforms, also old friends from highschool. They’ve been looking out for you ever since last year, always making sure you knew you were safe beneath their watch. They use to take turns guarding your house until they were told to stop, but you were extremely happy to see them both here at the same time tonight.

“Everything okay?” Hobi asked, having noticed the shake in your limbs during the brief embrace. He leaned back and observed the tension in your eyes, even though you were hoping to hide it.

“Yes, just— today,” was all you could say, and didn’t have to clarify for them to understand.

“That’s why we’re here. We got permission to guard your house tonight,” Namjoon explained, eyes drifting over your shoulder and into your house. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, but Jungkook should be here any minute now. He had to go to South Korea for a week for his fathers birthday and just flew back in tonight, but apparently there’s been some huge wreck on the main highway and everyone has been stuck.”

That bit of information was actually true. However, Jungkook was lucky enough to have just miss it.. because he’s the one that actually caused it. It was honestly dumb-luck as to how he did it, but kind of amazing when given details.

He was in the express lane, him and the car behind him hitting 80mph. He recognized the car as the one that was parked beside his back at the airport, because he had stopped and took a moment to judge the driver for how worn down and raggedy the tires were. One bad pot hole or nail in the road would strip that sucker straight from the rim.

And that’s exactly what inspired him as he recognized the car, an idea sparking that could soon serve as an alibi in the future. He already had a hand out the window, smoking a cigarette. He still has those iron steak-nails he used at his construction sight. They’re 5 inches in length, subtle enough to casually drop out of a car window along with the cigarette. If they hit just right...

He gave it a try, honestly thinking it wasn’t going to work.

But holy fucking hell, did it. Not even a second after he dropped it, did the car suddenly swerve out as it’s tires screeched and sparks flew. Rubber scattered out amongst the road as the car continued to spin out, getting struck by a the car in all 6 lanes of traffic, ultimately causing a huge pile up in just under 10 seconds. It was the most destruction he’s ever witnessed and it happened so fucking fast he almost ran himself off the road just watching from the rear view mirror.

“NO FUCKING WAY!” Jungkook had squawked out as his head rapidly whipped back and forth to witness the massive mess he just created behind him. He was smiling like the maniac he is, undoubtably impressed with himself. He did it so lazily, too. But it only pumped him up even more for what he needed to do- the whole reason he even thought to do that. He only wanted something major enough to buy himself maybe an hour’s worth of time, so that when/if he gets interrogated in the future, they can check the traffic reports for a registered wreck to fit his alibi. But considering that he just shut the whole damn highway down, it’ll not only register but definitely make tonight’s news.

“Ah, yeah. We heard about that. 36 cars piled up. Can’t believe nobody was killed.” Namjoon said.

“How the fuck did that even happen?” You wondered, baffled.

“Some dickhead was going 80 an hour on an old tire and it wiped out after hitting a nail on the road. Thankfully, he only has a broken nose and whip flash, but with all the cars that got totaled— I don’t even want to know how much the cost of damage would be. But it caused 5 miles worth of traffic back-up.”

“Mm..” you grimaced, shaking your head. “Well.. would you guys like some dinner? Maybe some Coffee?”

“Ah, thanks, but there’s no need. We’ve got all the energy drinks and McDonald’s we need. You just chill out for the night, we’re right out here if you need anything,” Hobi assured, making you genuinely smile for the first time in the past two days.

But that was just before a familiar car pulled up that had your mood skyrocketing.

“FINALLY!” You broke out, sprinting down the steps and over the driver side of it right as the man of the hour stepped out. He welcomed you with open arms and easily lifted your feet up of the ground.

He looked just as good as he smelt. You’ve missed him more than words could describe in this past week— and Jungkook knew it. Of course, he had offered to take you with him so that you could finally meet his parents. But as predicted, you declined, saying that it’d be too much to meet his mother when the anniversary of your own’s death was approaching.

You continued to squeeze your arms around his neck for the next several seconds, and it wasn’t until he heard you sniffling and felt your shoulders shake that he realized you were crying. He couldn’t help but like that type of reaction. He was hoping the distance would torment you, maybe teach your ass a lesson.

“Don’t cry,” he rumbled in your ear as he pressed you hard against his lower half, making sure to up the intimacy of the embrace as he felt the eyes of the onlookers in the yard.

He waited for a second before peering over at the officers, who were awkwardly standing beside their cars. He gave a wave, pretending as if he were sheepish about them having to witness this.

“How’s it goin, guys?”

“Fine, fine,” Hobi responded. “Don’t mind us. We’re just here to watch out for you guys.”

“I appreciate that. Really.” He said in his best acting voice, even flashing a dimpled grin that gave off nothing but innocence as the two got into a patrol car, nodding to him in welcome. It actually makes things more convenient for him. They’ll be able to backup his whereabouts later on.

He pondered this while returning his attention to you, coaxing you out of your emotional outburst.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard not having you here. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re back.” You breathed in and sighed out, and he could tell by the end of the last sentence that you were more-so talking to yourself, clinging to him one last time just to greedily soak in the physical presence of his body. He felt something ache in his heart, as well as his jeans.

“Well, I’m here now. Maybe next time, you’ll just go with me,” he lightly chided, hand coming up to pet your head as he kissed the top of it.

“Yeah.. I started regretting it after the first hour you left.” You whispered out, meeting his lips. You kissed each other a couple times, probably more than necessary. But it calmed you down and made you feel steady again. “Come on, I made you something to eat.”

He got his duffel bag out from the back seat and slung it over his shoulder before taking your hand, following you inside. It boosted his ego knowing that the two men watching from the tinted windows of the car were secretly jealous of him. They had a thing for you. Almost every straight guy in highschool did. That’s why he never minded what you wore, and was more than happy to let you flaunt yourself to their eyes. He liked teasing others, knowing they’ll never have such a prize as you.

Once inside, you were quick to relock your bolts. You were very strict about that now, taking extra precautions to prevent a potential attack. It kind of humored him knowing that it was him, a resident inside this very home itself, that those locks were meant to keep out. You’re literally locking yourself in with the killer.

“Damn, you cleaned the hell out of this place.” He ogled, not only taking in the immaculacy but smelling the pinesol and bleach amongst the floors and counter tops. All the laundry was folded, not a speck of dust in sight. You even cleaned the grout amongst the kitchen flooring, it seemed. Nothing looked out of place.

“I had to do something to keep from wigging out,” you shrugged, walking over to start the microwave for him to heat up his dinner plate. He left his duffel bag by the door and grabbed himself a beer before sitting at the table, noticing it’s prestigious shine.

“Did you polish it?”

“Yeah...” you said as you scratched the back of your neck, somehow embarrassed.

“It’s looks amazing in here, kitten. Really. I know you did it to cope but still, you did a damn good job.” He praised, feeling a little bad. He knows this took a lot of work, and it sucks that you opted to do all this just to keep the anxiety of his absence away.

“Thank you,” you sighed, taking his plate out and sitting in down in front him, then handing him some utensils.

“Where’s your plate?”

“I already ate, silly. I’ll munch with you, though.” You began making yourself a salad as he began to eat, complimenting you on how good it was. He doesn’t know that you’ve been awake for two days straight, and that you’re still battling off an anxiety attack. You were expecting it to vanish now that he’s here, but the sleep deprivation was getting to you.

So, you decided to reminisce on better memories. The old days; back when you first met him.

It was senior year of highschool, and he was the new transfer student from South Korea. He was the punk-emo guy that stood out amongst the crowd. All black clothing, more band shirts than anything. He had that messy mop-hair going on, and approximately 6 piercings on each ear, along with a studded labret to boot.

From day one, he was the most attractive guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. Much to his exterior trope, he was anti-social and didn’t seem friendly at all. The only time you personally heard him speak for the first few months of school was when he’d answer the teacher for roll call.

You only had one class together, chemistry. He’d always sit at the back of the classroom, and you’d remember the giddiness you’d feel just before walking into class and making eye contact with him, even for just a split second. You heart always skipped a beat and would threaten to seize up whenever Baley would lean over and tell you that he was looking at you again. Of course, that would be all the interaction you could get, being as you refused to engage any further. But life seemed to play out like a Wattpad fic back then.

Around the middle of first semester, your teacher was fed up with all the chatter amongst friends, so she decided to assign seats. Jungkook’s was still at his designated one, but you had to sit directly in front of him so that Taehyung could sit closer up, next to Baley. It’s also thanks to that class that the two of them fell for each other. It was also the same day she issued a partner-assignment that had to be done with the peer behind you.

You remembered having to play it cool, turning your desk and chair around to face him head-on for the first time ever. You anticipated that he’d still be sporting that ice-cold, disinterested glare, but he actually seemed pleased. He wasn’t actually smiling but he had a friendly glint in his eyes, like he welcomed you.

“Hello,” he started off, naturally confident in himself.

“Howdy,” you responded, immediately hating yourself. You’ve never uttered such a word in your life and you don’t know why the fuck you decided that that was the perfect moment to try it out.

He only snorted back at you, though, amusement swirling in his colorless eyes. You were intimidated by that as well. They were jett black. No distinction between his pupils and his irises. Just solid, black orbs boring into you.

You then continued to battle with basic communication.

“So, uhm.. wh—..”

English, motherfucker! Do you speak it?!

“What parts do you wanna do?” You rushed out.

“I’ll get the information together and answer the questions, as long as you create the PowerPoint and present it to the class,” he said without missing a beat, as if he’d already decided on that for the both of you.

“What criteria, though?” You asked, still waiting on that part.

“All of it...” He reiterated in a “duh” tone.

“That’s not fair to you, though...” you continued.

He arched an impressively sharp brow. “How?”

“You’re literally doing all the hard work.”

He shrugged, and you tried not to drool when you saw all his rings and the veins on his hands and fingers as he took his phone out. “I learned this shit back when I was freshman in South Korea. We’re way ahead of y’all there.”

“Oh.. well.. I can at least do the images and label them.”

Stop starring at his fingers.

“Mm,” he hummed with a lack of conviction, still looking at his phone. “No offense, but no.”

“Uhm.. okay..” you frowned in dejection, not sure how to respond to that.

“I said no offense,” he grinned up at you apologetically. “I just know you’re bad with visualizations.”

“What? I have an A in here. How do you even know that?”

“The teacher got onto you for messing up the labels on the last test. You got all the functions right but failed to match them to their description.” He said without any hesitation, and you were just as stunned as you were embarrassed. But he didn’t seem to be insulting you, and even reassured you of it. “Again, no offense. I just think it’s best for the both of us if I do it.”

“Okay. Cool,” You agreed, deciding to let him have it. Your face still burned, though.

“You still have an important role, don’t worry. Presentation is worth 40%, so you’re still gonna have to put in work and present it accordingly.”

“I can do that.” You nodded, suddenly feeling like you were sitting before a full grown man rather than a teenage boy. You couldn’t help but ask: “How old are you?”

“19,” he mused, as if he knew what you were thinking. He didn’t even ask you why you asked, and instead returned his attention back to his phone screen. “You?”

“18,” you muttered, your eyes reconnecting to his hands like magnets.

You really wanted to compliment them but decided against it, being as you were no longer as confident with this situation. Sure, he deserves to know how beautiful his hands are but you’re weren’t going to be the one to say it. You were expecting a cheeky personality at most, just because it fits the mischievous bad boy bullshit you read about in teen fiction, but you were instead met with a blunt and mature persona that made you intimidated in a way that you’ve never experienced before. He almost seemed.. authoritative to you.

“I see you like my rings.” He smirked, eyes not even looking back up at you. You had spaced out whilst tracing the path of his veins again, and immediately cut your eyes down to your own phone, feigning innocence.

“Whatchu mean?”

“Everyone like my hands, for some reason. I see you’re no different.”

“I ain’t even looking at your hands. Maybe you’re just too conceded,” you shot back, leg nervously pouncing as he lifted his head up to peer at you.

“Really?” He sarcastically challenged, making your insides stir. He sat up straight and pulled his hands back under his desk. “So the gold rings didn’t even catch your eye?”

“Your rings are silver.” You said without even thinking, then straight up face-palmed when you caught yourself.

“Thought so.” He openly grinned, and the little notion caused butterflies to erupt in your tummy. He pulled his phone back out and still wore that playful grin of his as you bashfully held his gaze. “Now, if you think you can manage to tell the truth, what’s your phone number?”

It’s amazing looking back at those memories, because you’re now starting to think that maybe Jungkook just knew back then that you two were going to hit it off. He’s always seemed so sure of himself when it came to you, always knew what the next move was gonna be and never once sent mixed signals or struggled to express how he felt towards you. He’s the most straightforward person you know, so much that it’s almost unnatural at times. If he was ever bluffing about anything outside of being playful, you’ve never been able to call it.

But damn, are you madly in love with him. You guess his ability to always remain focused and blunt is perfect for a person like you. He keeps you moving... well, for the most part. He wants you to move back to South Korea with him, and although you know you’ll eventually give in, you’ve been trying to hold off on it for as long as you can.

It won’t be as easy for you as it was for him. Jungkook was already fluent in English when he came here, thanks to his mother’s bilingualism. He hardly even had an accent from how well adjusted he was to your language. You, however, don’t know a bit of Korean. For you to go there, it would impair you in almost every single way. You won’t be able to go anywhere without him. You won’t be able to read directions or road signs. You won’t be able to go out and eat or order off the menu if there isn’t any pictures. You won’t be able to work. You’ll have to adapt to a whole new culture and way of communication, just to properly function outside of your home without him at your side.

Which, brings along another point, you’ll be without any friends. You don’t want to live in a world where you can’t go out with Taehyung and Baley whenever you wanted. You’ll be lonely as hell and home sick, he’ll be your only source of humanly contact until you learn.

You’ve told yourself that if the two of you remain stable for one more year, then you’ll go. You are ready for a change, but if you could just get one more year of preparation, you’ll be ready to go. You’ll take that leap of faith with him.

“What is it, kitten?” He finally asked, the prolonged silence getting to him.

“Nothing,” you lied, but didn’t want to divulge. “How was your trip?”

“Nice, but I was bummed out the whole time.” He shot you a look that made you pout in apology, but continued. “I talked all about you to them, showed them pictures. Almost fucked up and showed my cousin your vagina.”

You choked on your salad, which made him laugh. “I told you to put those in your hidden folder.”

“There’s so many, I just haven’t taken the time to pick them all out. It’s okay though, they only saw your face. They all think very beautiful— especially my mom.”

Your smile grew at that, “Yeah?”

“Yeah. So does my grandmother and my aunts. They were passing my phone around more than the dishes.” He snorted to himself, “They were even more surprised to see how much I smiled in our selfies. Which... I should warn you, when you do finally see my parents house, don’t be surprised when you spot our photo booth pictures framed in the hall. My mom went feral when she saw how much of a simp I was being in those.”

“She printed those out?!” You almost cried.

“Yes, she did. She printed each one individually and framed them side-by-side.”

“Aw, Kookie. I should’ve just went. I’m so sorry.” You pouted, guilt causing your heart to sink.

“You weren’t ready, angel. They understood,” He assured you, leaning forward to take your hand in his. You suddenly wanted to cry again.

“But I promise to go next time. Or whenever you wanna take me. I swear, I’ll go.” You said in determination, and was a little thrown off by his reaction.

His face went blank for a moment c like his brain needed a second to buffer.

“You will?” He inquired, that being the first time you’ve actually agreed or expressed any type of want. “Why now?”

“Because it sounds like they really want to meet me, too? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. That’s great. I just figured you wouldn’t be moved by that. You really wanna go now?”

“Yeah. Your family sounds so nice.”

“Was that what kept you from coming?” He interrogated, and it’s clear that he genuinely had no faith in you ever entertaining the idea.. which was a little disheartening. You’ve never said you’d never want to go, you’ve always kept a window open for later. You not sure why he’s so surprised.

“No, not necessarily. I wasn’t ready to meet them but if they’re that excited to meet me, then.. of course it’ll make me want to meet them, too. And get a little taste of South Korea.”

“Alright, I’ll plan a trip,” he had to say with forced enthusiasm, which you bought as you kissed his lips. Inwardly, though, he was screaming. If all it fucking took was a little conviction by saying his family was nice, just to make you consider.. them maybe he wouldn’t have had to do what he just did.

Whatever. Extra insurance. He had to tell himself, and decided to retrain his thoughts back on you as he remembered something.

“I have a special surprise for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he stood up and walked over to his duffel, fishing around before pulling something out. “Close your eyes.”

You did as told, and waited about 10 seconds.

“Open.”

You almost shit yourself upon hearing the voice, then came closer to shitting yourself when you took in the familiar Ghostface mask that you seen in the movie Scream.

“WHUZZZUUHHH!” He drawled out while doing the cowabunga fingers, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“Halloween store. I got it in Korea.”

That was a lie. He’s had two of these masks for over two years, both of which he got from Party City here in America. He bought one to kill your mother in— the same one he just wore to kill your friends in— and the other one was meant for what he wanted to do now. He wanted to fuck you with it on. He’s not sure why, but why not? You might discover you have a mask kink.

“What the fuck is up with the voice?”

“Sexy, ain’t it?” He animatronically purred out, and it wasn’t until he fully stepped forward and began undoing his belt that you realized he was already shirtless.

Your eyes grew wide as you landed back in your chair, unable to decipher if this was a joke or not. You soon realized it wasn’t as he was now popping his button loose and unzipping his pants— his hardening dick print becoming more prominent.

“You’re not fucking me with that mask on,” you blurted out, sticking your foot out to stop him from advancing any closer.

“I’m fucking you with this mask on,” he argued, grabbing your ankle. “Consider it pay back for the time you refused to give me head unless I let you wear your Burger King crown.”

“No, Darth Vader.” You tried pulling your leg back but soon wound up almost getting drug out of your chair and onto the floor. Your unease soon turned into giggles and screams as wound up besting your play fight, his mask only coming off long enough to go down on you at the kitchen table.

And that’s what set the night off. You went from getting your pussy eaten at the dinner table to getting your throat wrecked on the living room couch. Then you were forced to watch yourself get rammed up against your body mirror in the bedroom, and now you’re bent up like a pretzel amongst your bed.

“Ah— GAH!” You grunted in struggle, finding it hard to cuss like you wanted being as a hand was firmly constricting your air supply. You watched the masked man above you as he heatedly fucked into you, his chain dangling above your face. Your ankles helplessly swayed around his shoulders with each brutal slap of his pelvis. Your face still stung from the actual slaps of his palms, causing you to flinch any time his hands moved. You noticed done time throughout all this that he was hellbent on making you look at that damn mask. You weren’t complaining, though. Just more-so concerned about how hot it must be under there.

But then he slowed down for a moment, trying not to cum again as he lowered his face to yours, and finally decided it was time it come off, being as you were ready for a kiss.

“T-Take that damn mask off—“

Wrong move.

He growled and ripped your hand away as you tried removing it yourself, and you were stunned by how much aggressive he became— more aggressive than he was already being, as if truly lashing out. He man-handled you, flipping you over and plunging back into you with way too much force. You yelped at the intrusion but could do nothing else as he pinned your hands behind your back, picking his speed right back up. He kept your hands locked in place with a single one of his own before clapping the other around your mouth, darkly chuckling at the fright on your face.

“I meant it when I said it’s staying on,” he rasped, pushing into you so deep that veins protruded from your neck in strain.

He couldn’t explain it— or maybe he could. But he felt extremely powerful when he wore this mask. It took him all of two rounds to finally admit to himself that it turned him on, knowing you were getting off to the very same face that your loved ones last looked at in sheer terror. He didn’t realize up until then that he somehow considered Ghostface as a different alternative to himself, one he was growing to like a little too much. It even made his dick more sensitive to the feel of you, making you seem tighter. And warmer. And sluttier.

He’s sure he began speaking Latin somewhere in the midst, but it wasn’t until he saw tears surfacing in your eyes that it dawned on him that his hand had somehow traveled up to cover your nose, as well as your mouth. A moment of panic shot through him when he dropped it and allowed you to breathe, thinking you were gonna make him stop. But much to his pleasant surprise, you only coughed out and mewled, head collapsing on the pillow as you pushed against him, a silent demand keep going. So he did. He made sure to keep the punishing pace up and running. Your body violently jolted with each slam, ass bone aching at the brutal impact. Each thrust was felt like a punch to your cervix and someway or another, you were okay with it.

Little did he know, it was actually because you didn’t want any type of deja vu happening. He fucked you in all the ways you liked the night before you found out that your mother was slaughtered inside your childhood home. You didn’t want tonight to be anything like it. So you let him hurt you.

If only you knew history was going to repeat itself, no matter what the two of you did.

It didn’t take but a few more strokes before he lost his ability to hold off, and emptied himself inside for the third time since he’s arrived back.

Once he did that, the blinds were illuminated in a dim grey, hinting at a sunrise. After a quick shower and clean up, the two of laid there, the mask finally gone.

“What are you thinking, baby?” Jungkook wondered, starring up at the ceiling. You haven’t said much of anything since that last bit. “Did I hurt you? Scare you?”

“No. I could take it.” You said, and it sounded genuine. But he still wanted to know what was on your mind. “I just don’t know what the hell I would do if I didn’t have you. You’re the only person I know that’s never even accidentally done wrong by me. You’ve been nothing but good.”

A void clouded his mind, emotional absence taking place of everything else. It’s a defense mechanism that he’s certain only comes up to block out any sense of guilt or remorse. He kept his gaze up at the ceiling, even as he felt you crane your neck back to look up at him.

“I love you, Kookie. Thank you for being here.”

“I love you too, baby,” he said numbly, those words being true... but his next words were not. “I could never imagine myself doing anything to hurt you.”

Being as he wasn’t planning on looking down, you crawled up for a moment just to kiss him, unbothered by the distant stare in his gaze. You then laid back down and got comfortable, readying yourself for a good days sleep.

“I think it’s finally time I start seeking happiness again, instead of contentment.”

That’s when it hit him. You didn’t notice how his heart cleaned beneath your head, nor was there any way you could feel the tension in his gut. He can’t say he feels full remorseful for what he did, because that would require him sympathizing for the innocent lives he’s taken away, with no rational reason. He simply didn’t feel anything for them. He was only concerned your pain, especially knowing it was unnecessary now. His trip to Korea was enough to motivate you to move on and consider a change of scenery. You didn’t need any fear to drive you out, you just needed time. God only knows how far of a set back this will be now. The fact that you’re laying here, currently thinking that life will only go up from here, when he knows damn good and well it’ll be in shambles again before the day ends..

He really needs to work on his impulses. Maybe homocide shouldn’t always be the first option he leans towards. It was just more fun that way.

But moments like this weren’t fun at all. He remembers how grueling it was last year, waking up with you at the sound of the doorbell going off. He remembers the grim look on the sheriffs face as he told them that they found your mother, dead. It was his arms that had to pick you up off the floor as you crumbled down and screamed, his ears that rung as he held you, not knowing how to console you. For the last year, it’s been his shoulder you’ve cried on, his company keeping you sane, his reassurance telling you that everything was going to be okay.... When it was his hands that caused every single bit of grieve all along.. and was about to cause even more.

So, he did the only thing he could do in that moment. He held you and mentally apologized, hoping that there was some way to telepathically tell you that you mean more to him than life itself, and that’s he’s so sorry for letting it drive him crazy at times. He’s still clinging to the original intention that you’ll say fuck it and flee with him, but he regrets going about it so recklessly.

You were fast asleep now, snoring even. He only hoped the discovery of the bodies would hold off long enough for you to get some much needed sleep. But it seems the universe was done working in his favor.

Those same, familiar knocks sounded off at the door, and he immediately ordered you to stay put as it woke you up.

“Probably just them checking up. Go back to sleep.” He whispered, assertively pushing your head back down and pulling on some sweats before going to the door.

It was the sheriff, same look on his face as last year.

“Sir?” Jungkook frowned, posing cluelessly.

The sheriff looked ghostly pale, like he was nauseated and on the verge of tears. Jungkook knew why but he had to act like it was a throw off.

“Sir..?” He repeated.

“Y’all’s friends.. Baley and Taehyung were found this morning.”

He had to stall and blink, as if he wasn’t catching on to the implications. The sheriff reluctantly continued.

“Baley was found, dead on arrival. Looks like the killer has returned.”

“Wh-What?” Jungkook stuttered, acting like he was bewildered. The sheriff’s next words, however, would spark a more genuine reaction.

“And Taehyung was found unconscious, but still alive.”

Jungkook’s veins ran colder than ever before, all mimicked emotions becoming sincere in that moment.

“Someone attempted to cut his throat, but aimed too high and cut his under jaw instead.”

Jungkook could only stare at the sheriff, probably just as pale in the face now.

“He’s in critical condition. Doctors don’t know if he’ll make it just yet, but there’s a fighting chance that he might.”

#yandere society #bts #jeon jungkook #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts halloween #bts crack #jungkook smut #bts smut

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solinarimoon · 3 years ago

Text

Fields of Wildflowers

Chapter 14

A Sihtric x OC story

AN: We’re coming to the close of this story. There will be one more chapter after this. I may do a few more one-shots with Cwen and Sihtric and depending on how season 5 plays out I may continue their story further. Thanks for reading everyone! Moodboard made by the wonderful @serasvictoria

Previous chapters here

My masterlist

Warnings: Canon style battle imagery, trauma response from previous abuses, I believe that is all

Word Count: 4,217

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cwen ran through the streets of Winchester until she reached the back entrance to the kitchens. Stopping in the doorway, she quickly scanned the room for any sign of Eadith. Cwen did not spy the fiery headed woman in the main kitchen and she was nowhere to be found in the halls most closely surrounding the kitchens either. Cwen had no idea how much time had passed since she left to bring Storria her food. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Quickly, Cwen made her way back to the kitchens, seeking out Frig.

Spying her near the stove, forming loaves for the next day's bread, she swiftly walked over to the large woman.

“Frig, do you know where Eadith is?”

“Who’s Eadith, girl? You think I know your names?” Frig was tall and wide. Cwen would have wagered she would make an intimidating opponent in a battle. She certainly commanded attention and obedience in the kitchens.

But Cwen did not let the woman’s gruff demeanour stall her search.

“She’s my friend. The redhead.”

“Oh, her. I sent her with rations for the prisoners. Come to think on it, she should probably be back by now. She left close after you did. Now wait here, girl…” but Cwen wasn’t listening as Frig called after her. She raced out of the kitchen and along the corridor towards the chapel, eyes scanning everywhere for any sign of Eadith.

When she reached the chapel, she rapped her palm on the heavy wooden door and whispered loudly through the window for Lady Aelswith before trying to slow the hammering in her chest and catch her breath.

She gasped, realizing that she still had Eardwulf’s blood staining her hands. Glancing down at herself, there were traces of his blood all over her clothes. The sight brought back the panic and Cwen felt her breathing becoming erratic once again.

“Cwen,” a voice broke through her thoughts, “Cwen, what is it?”

She shook her head and realized Lady Aelswith had made it over to the door and was trying to get her attention.

“Cwen, dear, you’re trembling. What has happened?”

Cwen stared through the bars of the window in the door for a moment before speaking, her mouth dry.

“I...I’ve killed Eardwulf,” Aelswith’s eyes snapped up to meet Cwen’s face, shocked at her admission. Cwen continued, her words coming out in rushed breaths, “He was trying to force the King’s hand to act. And… and Sigtryggr was there.. He knows I am here as a spy, but… he let me go to find Eadith.”

“The boys, Aethelstan, Sigtrygr took them. Did you see them, Cwen?” Aelswith’s voice was strained, trying to remain composed but clearly she was worried about the boys.

“I did. They were with him. He’s...,” Cwen struggled to find a way to describe her encounter with the man who was responsible for taking Winchester from the hands of Saxons. “He does not want to harm them. He told me so. I tried to keep them with me, but…,” Cwen paused and looked into Aelswith’s eyes, urging her to believe her, “I believe he truly does not want to harm them. Or any of us, if he can avoid it.”

Aelswith didn’t reply, but neither did her face hold to typical rebuke and scorn that Cwen would have expected.

Shaking her head, Cwen asked, “Eadith? Did you see Eadith? She should have brought you food, but she has not returned to the kitchen.”

“She hasn’t been here,” Lady Aelswith sighed.

Cwen felt a tingling sense of dread creep back up her fingertips and into her chest. She took a shaky breath and grasped Lady Aelswith’s hand around the bars in the window.

“I need to keep looking for her.”

“I know. Be safe, Cwen.”

Cwen turned and marched back the way she had come, sneaking past the kitchen and into the courtyard.

Thinking Eadith may have heard about the events on the ramparts, she headed back towards the Eastern gate to be met with a startling sight.

Lord Uhtred was being ushered in through the gate behind a self-satisfied looking Sigtryggr.

Cwen started forward towards her friend, but slowed to look at Sigtryggr. Silently, he gave her the slightest of nods before she sped forward to embrace Uhtred.

Speaking into Cwen’s hair, she heard Uhtred’s muffled voice, “You are alright? Let me see you.” He stepped back to take in her appearance, her blood stained clothes and hands. Uhtred took her chin in his hand and turned her so he could better look at her face, scowling at the scratches along her brow from where Eardwulf had pressed her bodily into the stone of the parapet.

Ignoring Uhtred’s hardened stare, Cwen spoke to both Sigtryggr and Uhtred in turn, “The boys? Athelstan. Are they alright?”

Before Uhtred could speak, Sigtryggr’s voice answered her concerns, firm yet gentle.

“Both children are back in their father’s embrace. Your Lord, the Dane Slayer has traded himself willingly for their release,” he folded his hands behind his back, stepped closer to speak in a lowerer tone, and added, “It would seem the gods saw fit to indulge my wish to see them unharmed.” The man stepped back now, meeting Cwen’s eye.

Uhtred watched the exchange silently, before addressing Sigtryggr.

“The boys are unharmed, but what about Cwen? Look at her face, her hands and clothes. Is this how women are to be treated in your Winchester?”

“Cwen has the heart of a survivor. Not a battle warrior perhaps, but she is strong. Aside from the scratches, the blood belongs to her enemy. A man lower than a snake,” Sigtryggr spoke with that same calm, yet commanding voice.

“That enemy was your ally,” Uhtred’s voice grew louder, etched with concern and irritation over how Cwen had been treated.

Now it was Cwen’s turn to speak, cutting off Sigtryggr's reply and trying to still the rising tension.

“I was offered care and a chance to clean up, but I refused. I needed to find Eadith.”

“And where is she?” Uhtred questioned, only then turning his studying gaze from Sigtryggr to Cwen once more.

“I do not know,” her voice was desperate and wavering, “ I was coming here to look for her. She should have brought food to Lady Aelswith, but she never made it there.”

Cwen held her fingers up to her lips, turning to scan the streets, looking for any sign of Eadith. Her breaths began to quicken once more and she turned round, wide eyed to look at Uhtred.

“I am sure she is alright, Cwen.”

“You can not know that,” Cwen cut him off.

“Excuse me, both of you,” Sigtryggr interjected, “but Uhtred must come with me. We did not allow you into the city to go on a goose hunt. You are here to meet and discuss with me.”

“Sigtryggr is right,” Uhtred agreed, cutting Cwen off before she could protest further. But turning to face Sigtryggr, his voice leaving no room for argument, “but Cwen will come with us. I will not risk another I care for being vulnerable in this city.”

“As you wish,” Sigtryggr acquiesced with a nod, then turned on his heel to walk back towards the palace, clearly expecting Uhtred and Cwen to follow him.

Alarm and panic lacing her voice, Cwen protested giving up the search for Eadith.

Uhtred took hold of her arm and began to escort her alongside him, “Winchester is large and I will not have you look in the streets alone. His lord or not, Sihtric would have my head.”

Cwen paused, gently pulling her arm back to stop Uhtred from moving further.

“My Lord, how is he?” Her words were small, anxious.

Uhtred bowed his head before looking up and taking in Cwen’s concerned expression.

“Sihtric is in agony, Cwen. The man has done nothing but fret since you left his sight, walking into the city,” Uhtred paused. His grip on her arm loosened and moved to squeeze her shoulder in comfort, “Seeing you up there has nearly broken him. He will fight every man here, Saxon or Dane, to see you back in his arms.”

Tears welled in Cwen’s eyes as she listened to Uhtred’s words. She reached her hand up to hold Uhtred’s arm on hers. Sniffling, she wiped a stray tear away.

“Come along, Dane Slayer.” Sigtryggr’s voice brought an irritated sigh from Uhtred as he and Cwen resumed their path.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cwen lifted her head groggily and sat up from the bench she had been resting on.

After arriving in the throne room, Uhtred and Sigtryggr had commenced to fight, throw insults, and banter back and forth before coming to common ground. The rest of the night consisted of developing plans to help formulate negotiations and division of lands.

It would seem Sigtryggr really did wish to be a better man than his forebears. He wanted only land and a chance for his people to thrive. A chance to prosper.

At some point, a woman had brought them food and Cwen had asked for some water to wash the blood from her hands and clean up her face.

Feeling slightly less soiled, she had laid down upon a bench pushed against the side of the hall. Almost immediately, she had felt the exhaustion of the day's events wash over her. Her body and mind were fatigued, both in equal measure.

Fretful, Cwen succumbed to sleep. But her mind was not fit for restful slumber. Flashes of images raged across her dreams.

Eardwulf’s face as blood pooled out of his mouth, his eyes full of shock and anger.

Feet, her own - she could not tell - running along city streets, turning this way and that.

Her hands clinging to a dazed Aethelstan. Still flecked with dried blood, they moved to cover the child’s eyes.

And Sihtric. His eyes. Watching her, his face stoic and careworn. Those eyes that covered her like a gentle blanket, usually full of care and comfort. Now shifting as his face broke into screams, cries filled with torment and sorrow.

Slowly, Cwen felt herself relax back into wakefulness. Her heart, along with her limbs, felt heavy. Leaden. As if she had not slept at all. The images from her mind continued to play over.

Only the knocking on the great oak doors just moments before had awoken her.

Still dazed from sleep, Cwen stood to walk over to Uhtred’s side, her hands running over her face, trying to erase her dreams..

Lord Uhtred stood bent over, his fists resting against the long table scattered with maps and documents.

“I am glad you were able to rest.”

“My body betrayed me. It was not a conscious decision,” Cwen voiced, “Nor would I consider it restful.”

Uhtred turned to look at the woman, placing a comforting hand on her back.

Cwen offered him a small smile before looking down to the maps. She reached out a hand, absentmindedly tracing the length of some river.

At that moment, Sigtryggr returned with news from his guards. Edward had attacked the city and would soon breach the walls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Urgently, Sigtryggr, Uhtred, and Cwen moved along the hallways of the palace and out into the courtyard, followed closely by several of Sigtryggr’s oathmen.

The city gates had already been breached and Saxon warriors were flowing into the courtyard to be met with the shield and swords of the Danes scrambling from all corners of the city to join the fray. The clamor of battle, swords and axes crashing against shields, men screaming and yelling with battle lust was deafening.

Cwen was met with Uhtred’s arm pushing her to stand behind him while he pleaded with Sigtryggr.

Frantically, Cwen scanned the crowd searching for Sihtric. Or anyone of her companions. But the scene was utter chaos. All she could make out was blurs of bodies whirling and clashing in a bloody dance.

Cwen’s attention was snapped back to the men in front of her as she heard Sigtryggr order one of his men to kill Uhtred if he should harm any Danes.

Next thing she was aware of, Cwen was thrust aside by large hands as Uhtred and Sigtryggr’s man began stalking their way through the fight towards King Edward.

Cwen righted herself and continued to search the crowd, looking for him. She watched the chaos as Sigtryggr prowled like a wolf on the steps beside her.

Her heart hammered in her chest and she felt the clash and reverberation of the fight in front of her ringing in her ears. The adrenaline and fear pulsed out along her limbs as she felt the grip of panic racing through her blood.

She winced when Sigtryggr called for the shield wall to be formed.

His cry lost amongst the din of the violence, Cwen covered her ears instinctively and watched while a horn blower signaled the shield wall and Sigtryggr called once more, his voice now louder and impassioned.

She saw as Edward raised his sword arm and called for Saxon’s to form the wall as well.

It felt like time slowed as Cwen watched the melee stop and the shields form the barrier along both sides of the fight.

A man stepped out from the Saxon line reaching towards something on the ground. It was Finan. Cwen watched as he stooped to pick up a figure. She recognized Eadith’s red hair and gasped as she watched men part for Finan to retreat carrying her limp body.

Then there he was, closing the hole after Finan, beside Osferth.

Cwen grasped onto Sigtryggr’s arm, from behind where he had stepped in front of her protectively.

He turned and observed her gaze, locked onto Sihtric.

“It is your man?” Sigtryggr questioned.

Not daring to take her eyes from him, Cwen gave the slightest nod.

“Come with me,” he instructed as he began moving down the stairs, Cwen continuing to hold onto his arm as they moved through the warriors.

“You will let us pass,” Sigtryggr commanded his men who shuffled out of their way to form a slender path.

Breaking through into the clearing between the shields, he saw her. His face was a mask of fierce battle rage, but his eyes softened when they met Cwen’s.

He took a step forward, pulled to reach her, before Osferth’s sword arm blocked his way.

Cwen still stood slightly behind Sigtryggr grasping his arm.

The man looked back to her, “Go,” he said. Cwen dragged her eyes away from Sihtric to glance at Sigtryggr. He nodded his head in the direction of the Saxons, towards Sihtric, “Go on.”

And the next instant, Cwen was rushing into Sihtric’s arms, crashing into him.

Still prepared for a fight, Sihtric stepped to the side, bringing her around himself, saying, “Behind me, Cwen. Stay behind me.”

He kept her arm in his grasp as she stood behind his right side, hands grasping at him, clinging to his armor.

Cwen felt him pull her hand up to his mouth, pressing a firm kiss against her knuckles and squeezing. His hand still gripped his axe as well and the feel of the wood crushed against her fingers was bruising. But it did not matter. Being back where she could find his grounding touch, Cwen felt her world right itself finally.

She pressed herself firmly against his back. Peering around his shoulder, she could see Edward and Aethelflaed had approached the center of the courtyard along with Uhtred. Sigtryggr and Edward stood staring at one another. The tension was thick as the leaders sized each other up.

Eventually, Edward and Aethelflaed agreed to enter the palace with Sigtryggr and begin negotiations.

Once the respective parties had shifted inside, the opposing armies slowly melted away to opposite portions of the city.

Cwen felt the tension slowly release in Sihtric’s shoulders as he lowered his shield and slid his axe into his belt.

She heard Osferth from somewhere nearby, questioning Sihtric. Cwen kept her eyes closed, hands fisted into his mail and leather, gripping anywhere she could find purchase.

“Where would Finan have taken Eadith?”

“Hild,” Sihtric replied, his voice low and husky, “likely, he took her to Hild.”

Without another word, the three moved along the streets passing other soldiers and frightened townsfolk milling about.

Sihtric’s arm never lost contact with Cwen, but his eye kept scanning and searching. Cwen imagined he was still on the watch for a fight, a threat. Or looking for Finan and Eadith. But she desperately yearned for his eyes to find her again.

After many twists and turns along wide streets, Cwen having no idea where they were leading, they stopped outside of a church.

Osferth only paused, noticing that Sihtric had stilled with Cwen.

Glancing between his two friends, Osferth’s lips twitched upwards into a small grin before he turned and continued up the steps and through the large oaken door.

Sihtric turned, taking Cwen’s arm in his hand and led her to the alley beside the church.

Once he turned the corner, he swept Cwen into his arms in a crushing embrace and lifted her off of the ground.

Cwen felt the seams of her composure that had been slowly unraveling rip apart. She threw her arms desperately around his shoulders as she buried her face against his neck. Strangled sobs overcame her and she started voicing incoherent apologies and fears.

Gently, Sihtric lowered her feet to the ground and ran his fingers soothingly through her tangled, chestnut hair, giving her the time to be broken.

Cwen pulled her face back from his body, her hands moving to rest along his jaw and bringing his forehead to rest against hers.

“It is alright, Cwen. I have you, now. I have you,” he chanted over and over.

In time, Cwen’s breathing slowed and her sobs ceased to wrack her entire body, to be replaced with still slightly shaky gasps.

She felt as Sihtric’s lips placed soft kisses on her forehead, down to her eyes, wiping away her tears.

Finally, his kiss found her lips. And she felt the world pause as they both melted into one another, his fingers tracing soothing lines where he cupped her neck.

When they pulled apart, Cwen met his eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered.

His lips pulled into a wide grin, but she continued before he could respond, “I do. I love you, Sihtric. And I am sorry for leaving with harsh words or feelings,” but it was Sihtric’s turn to hush her with a kiss.

When he pulled back, he made sure to look into her eyes before speaking.

“Do not apologize. What you have done takes courage. There are more ways to be strong and brave than by wielding a sword or an axe. I should not have spoken as I did. I was scared for you and let it cloud my mind and my words.”

“But you were right to be frightened,” Cwen interrupted him, “Eardwulf…” Her voice quivered when speaking his name, betraying her.

“Is dead, Cwen.” Sihtric took her face in both hands. “He can no longer harm you. You have freed yourself of him, my love.”

His eyes burned into Cwen’s own with such an intensity, she dropped her face to rest on his chest, overwhelmed.

“I was so afraid, Sihtric.”

She felt as Sihtric rested his chin on top of her head before he replied.

“Cwen, I have been in more battles than I can remember, escaped death.” he placed a kiss on the top of her head before he continued, “but I have never felt fear like that before.”

He pulled her back and took her chin in his hand, tilting her face so he could brush his thumb over the scratches and bruises forming along her cheek and brow.

“I was terrified that I would lose you. But you saved yourself. And we are together now.”

Cwen smiled at him, “I used your knife and what you taught me.”

Sihtric kissed her fiercely before he remarked, “When this is over, we will find time alone where I can love you. Where I can show my woman how she is cherished.”

Cwen felt heat rise in her cheeks. “You cherish me?” She questioned, leaning her face back towards him.

“I do, my lady,” he answered with a smirk before kissing her once more and chuckling as he felt Cwen hum against him deep in her throat.

“Do you think Osferth found them?” Cwen pondered when they finally broke apart.

Sihtric laughed, “He must have or he would have come and awkwardly interrupted us.”

Sihtric took her hand, leading her back towards the entrance of the church.

“Who is Hild?” she questioned.

Sihtric answered her as they walked, “A friend. An abbess. The first time I met her, she was sawing the head off a Dane.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cwen’s mouth was still hung open in shock when they entered the church to be approached by Osferth and an older woman with dirty blonde hair, dressed in the plain robes of the clergy.

“Cwen, this is Hild, a friend.” Osferth introduced the woman who took in Cwen’s expression and appearance.

“Was Sihtric just telling you of the first time we met? Trust me, it was not as bad as you imagine. The Dane was already dead.” Hild’s smile was genuine and caring. Osferth and Sihtric both laughed good naturedly at her jest.

Still smiling, Hild brought Sihtric in for a hug, “It is good to see you, Sihtric.”

“And you, Hild. Is Finan here?”

Hild answered him, while stepping back to stand by Osferth once more, “He is. And the lady, Eadith. I have patched her up as best I could.”

Cwen interrupted, concern lacing her voice, “will she be alright? Was she badly injured?”

“Not too badly. Some bruised and maybe broken ribs, but that is all. She needs rest, but will be fine,” Hild took hold of Cwen’s hand as she spoke, giving it a comforting squeeze, “would you like to see her?”

“I…” but Cwen hesitated.

Guessing the reason for her hesitation, Osferth interrupted, “She knows about Eardwulf, Cwen. She was more concerned with your well-being than with grief over her brother.” Cwen frowned and looked down at the floor for a moment before looking back to Hild, who gave her hand another comforting squeeze and nodded her head.

“Come on then. Follow me,” she said while releasing Cwen’s hand and turning to walk back the way they had come.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They entered the room to find Eadith sitting up with some bandages wrapped around her torso. She was holding onto Finan for support to stand. Cwen noticed the care and concern etched in the Irish warrior’s face as he stood firm by her side.

She stopped short when Eadith looked up from the floor at their entrance. But Cwen did not have long to ponder any hard feelings Eadith might hold against her for killing her brother.

Eadith exclaimed, “Cwen, oh thank God,” as she reached out the arm not steadying herself on Finan, beckoning her friend towards her.

Cwen let out a little laugh, fighting back yet more tears as she closed the few steps between them and gingerly embraced Eadith before stepping back and taking her hand.

“You’re safe,” Finan interjected, placing a chase kiss to Cwen’s temple, never losing hold of Eadith’s waist.

“As are you,” Cwen commented nodding to Eadith, “I tried to find you after,” but the words died on her lips as she met her friend's eye.

To Cwen’s amazement, Eadith gave her a genial smile before she spoke.

“I lost the man I called my brother some time ago, Cwen. I am happy you are safe. Truly, my friend.”

Shaking her head to clear the emotions rushing to her face, Cwen took a breath before their reunion was interrupted by Hild, who cleared her throat before speaking.

“I can offer you all a bit of bread and may be able to find some cheese. It won’t be much, given the siege, but I know you must be hungry.”

Osferth replied for the group, “That would be lovely, Hild. Thank you. But we also should see if we can find out how things go with Lord Uhtred.”

The companions agreed some food would be best before Sihtric and Osferth would leave to find out how negotiations progressed.

Cwen tried to protest and go with them.

“I do not wish to be parted from you again,” she whispered as Sihtric took her aside by the arm.

“I know, Cwen. But you are exhausted. A moment ago you were almost asleep on your feet. Finan is staying to care for Eadith. You will not be alone. But you need rest.” Sihtric’s voice was low and soothing. His face close to hers and she felt the tenderness and concern in his words. “Let Hild care for your face and find you some clean clothes. I will come back to you as soon as I can.”

The idea of clean clothes and rest compelled Cwen more than she would have anticipated. But the weight of the past days events was still heavy on her and Sihtric was right, she needed the rest.

“Ok, but please don’t be away long.”

“I won’t, love. Believe me.” He kissed her softly before leaving with Osferth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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ethereaiin · 3 years ago

Text

Reprieve | genshin impact

synopsis; you liked her. you really, really liked her. yet despite how you felt, no one else could say the same.

features; you, eula, and some mentions of amber.

[au]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

There was something about Eula Lawrence that attracted attention no matter where she went. Maybe it was due to her outstanding work within the Knights of Favonius, or her undeniable beauty. You weren’t sure, all you knew was you were as taken with her as just about everyone else.

Except, they. . . didn’t exactly share the same thoughts about her as you did.

People were wary of her. You could tell from the way they whispered behind her back as she passed and how they refused to meet her gaze as if looking her in the eyes would curse their very being. They sneered in her direction, spewing words you would never dare to repeat and you’ve even seen vendors refuse her service. To the people of Mondstadt, she was never seen as a good person.

It was quite obvious what the reason for their behavior was. Being a native to Mondstadt yourself, you were privy to that knowledge, yet you didn’t really understand why those around you continued to be blinded by the past. Most were afraid the aristocracy would once again rise in power, yet you never saw that as justification for the terrible way they treated her. The Lawrence name had done well enough to paint her in the worst light from the day she was born. But to you, Eula resembled nothing of the old Lawrence clan or even her brazen uncle. She was different, you were sure of it.

You only wished everyone else could see her the way you did.

Amber was the one who first introduced her to you. While she was reserved and distant in the beginning, your persistence in sticking by her side through the years slowly opened her up to you. After sharing countless conversations with Eula, you could see how her words could be mistaken for mild threats and paired along with her cold tone; you could understand how she became a person to be feared. Still, you never thought of her any differently. There was hidden meaning in everything she said and while most people would have taken her words of having ‘vengeance’ at face value, you instead found it amusing. Your constant giggling caused you to become one of the many people who crossed her, yet she never asked you to stop nor did she seem as if she were seriously irritated. Instead, she brought you gifts and took you on outings as an odd way to prepare you for her coming revenge. Though you were never sure what said vengeance would entail. What you did know, however, was that she was unbelievably kind. Even if she would never admit it herself, you knew it for a fact.

Eula was a strong girl. Both physically and mentally, she was well fortified. You knew the things the people of Mondstadt said to her never once affected her nor did it crumble her resolve to prove them wrong. Their scorn and attempts to tear her down were met with a promise of revenge and an icy look that completely differed from the insincere threats she’d given you. She would do anything within her power to become the very thing her family hated and it was proven by how fast she was rising through the ranks within the knights. Seeing how dedicated she was made you want to support her and along with Amber, you did your best to improve her image within the city.

You wanted the world to know just how good Eula Lawrence was. Her every achievement was proudly spoken by you to anyone willing to listen and you did your best to convince others to give her a chance. Though you were not as well known as Amber, your family name carried a bit of weight among the people to at least make them reconsider their prejudices against Eula. You wanted nothing more than for the city she grew up in to finally feel like a place she could call home. It was your one wish and, among many things, something you felt you greatly owed her. The numerous gifts and friendly affection she'd shower you with were all too much to leave unpaid.

Your feelings towards her were far too vast to put into words. Nothing you could say or do would ever hope to convey all of them precisely. Even you didn’t know the exact emotion of what you felt towards her. You only knew of your desire to see her, to talk to her and be with her. It was all that mattered to you and for the longest, you were happy with just staying by her side.

Yet there was something that was always bothering you. Over the years you were witness to the great accomplishments both Eula and Amber made. In both body and mind, they became people who were strong. Strong enough to fight for what they thought was right, but most of all, strong enough to fight for themselves. But you. . . you were unchanged. You were still the same demure, polite and weak girl you always were. Too afraid to speak up for yourself and too afraid of change. It made you feel utterly helpless and in comparison to them, you felt ashamed.

“Stop seeing that girl.”

Your father’s words felt more weighted than they should have been. Under that single demand, you felt crushed and it was enough to halt the beat of your heart for a second. You stopped what you were doing, the half embroidered handkerchief hung from one hand while the other held a string of white thread and needle. You were halfway finished with your newest present to Eula until he barged in your room looking as if he were about ready to snap something in half. You didn’t think he cared about you. He never seemed to have before. Yet all of the sudden he’s making demands of you as if he hadn’t ignored your very existence up until this moment. If it weren’t for your knowledge of how short-tempered your father was, you would have already retaliated with a snap of your own. Though that would have only ended with you earning yet another bruise to cover up. When you finally regained your composure, you glanced up at him after placing Eula’s unfinished gift atop the table before you.

“Who?” You blinked, your expression feigning ignorance. “Amber?”

You knew your acting could only get you so far, but you hoped it would be enough to fool him. Yet, despite your best efforts, you could see he was not at all convinced. The middle of his brow twitched, creasing deeply as his nerves were already beginning to give way. You could see his anger. It was apparent on his aged face which turned redder with each passing second. For some reason, unknown to you, he never did have an ounce of patience to spare you. Every remark that even sounded like a disagreement to what he asked of you was either met with a rough slap to the cheek or, if you were lucky, a day locked in your room without dinner. He was especially sensitive when it came to his work and this, you figured, must have had something to do with it. Your blatantly open support of Eula must have reached him by now and you could only guess that it was beginning to hinder the family business. The Lawrence's, after all, was a cursed family. The fallen remnants of what remained of the aristocracy that no one in Mondstadt wanted anything to do with.

As soon as the wrong girl’s name left your lips, you weren’t even given time to prepare yourself before you were sent hurdling out of your seat with a newly bruised cheek. From your place on the ground, you warily stared up at him with a hand cradling your hot and painfully throbbing face. You were somewhat used to this, yet no matter how many times you experienced his rage, you could never get used to the pain. Tears glossed over your eyes and gathered at the corners. You could feel them streaking down the apples of your cheeks and, on the side he hit, meeting with the tips of your fingers. He looked down at you with irritation as if the mere sight of your crying form was enough to set him off once more. You were well aware you were nothing but a nuisance to him. He voiced it often enough to you.

“Don’t act innocent,” He spits, eyes narrowing and jaw clenched. “I raised you better than that.” A bold lie that would have had you laughing if not for your immense pain. “The Lawrence’s are no good. If you go see that girl again, don’t bother coming home.”

He left just as quickly as he came. He spared you no further glance as he slammed the door of your room close before clicking it locked. You seemed to have hit the jackpot with getting both of his favorite punishments in one go. Not only had left you injured, but he’d also ensure you wouldn’t go running off behind his back. Your hand fell from your cheek as the painful throbbing died into a buzzing numbness. The silent tears that rolled down your cheeks had done little to truly encompass the pain you felt. At one point in your life, you wanted nothing more than that man’s affection. But that was long in the past and as the years rolled by, he'd done nothing for you other than present bruises for you to hide and humiliation you were meant to take without protest. He was a terrible man who saw you as nothing more than the reason for the death of his beloved person. Somewhere down the line, maybe even he had forgotten, that your mother was just as precious to you as she was to him.

Leaving this place wouldn’t be so hard for you as he may have thought. Even if he had merely said it as a threat and meant nothing by it, you took it to heart. This house was rarely ever a true home to you and you often felt more welcome outside among your friends than you ever did here. The choice he presented to you wasn’t difficult, nor did you find yourself doubting your decision. There was no way you would ever choose a man who’d never shown you kindness over Eula who undoubtedly cared for you, albeit in the most peculiar way unique only to her.

This was finally your chance to leave and you’d gladly take it without hesitation. Although you knew you could never truly escape your father within the walls of Mondstadt. You needed to get farther away from him. Liyue was the only other place you could go that could grant you that wish whilst allowing you to stay somewhat in contact with your friends. The trip would be long and arduous and most of all it required money. While you had a little from the various jobs you took on, you were almost positive you could gain the rest from selling the small amount of jewelry you possessed. They were precious things to you. The various jeweled necklaces, bracelets, and the single portrait being personal belongings of your mother that your father would have never let you near.

It was only by chance that you were able to snag them while he was away on business and since then you had them tucked away in a small velvet bag hidden under your mattress. You’d rarely ever taken them out, only glancing at them when you missed her the most. The portrait of her was old, the color almost fading completely, yet it was enough for you. Your father never kept pictures of her. All of them were stashed away somewhere deep within the house where you weren’t allowed to go. If it weren’t for you finding the small bag of jewelry and what could have been her last picture, you would have forgotten what she looked like. You were young when she died, barely the age of six, yet you could still loosely remember some things about her. Mainly it was her smile you could recall. You remembered it to be tender and filled with warmth. It was the by-product of her love for you and since her untimely passing, you've yearned to see it again.

Your mother, the kind person you hazily remembered her as wouldn’t have wanted you to continue living like this.

Packing was easy enough. You barely had any belongings to your name and most of everything was able to snugly fit into one bag. The last thing you needed was the jewelry, which you securely placed inside your coat, and you were ready to set off towards what you could only hope to be a better life. As you neared the window of your room, the tips of your fingers pressed against the pane, you glanced behind you at your room once more. While you possessed no good memories of this place, its image would never leave you. It was the room you grew up in and a place you could not so easily forget. You were really going to abandon everything, leaving behind everyone who ever cared for you without so much as a goodbye. The thought of doing so made you feel heavy with shame, but you knew you just didn’t have the time. At any moment your father could walk through your bedroom door and catch you mid-escape. If he did, you knew you’d never get a chance like this again.

Your gaze dropped, landing on the table in your room. The unfinished handkerchief you were making for Eula still lay on its surface and it served to remind you of just what you were giving up by running away. Your friends would undoubtedly be hurt from your sudden disappearance and maybe even Eula would come to hate you, thinking you were no different from those that openly mocked her. You never wished for her to think of you as such, but for now, it was alright. You could deal with that if it meant that she would forget about you faster. You never wanted to become a burden to her, nor did you want to hinder the great progress she made towards her goal. You just only wished there was something you could remember her by.

You stepped away from the window for a second, hastily grabbing the handkerchief and the spool of thread and needle that was attached to it before stuffing it into the pocket of your coat. Finishing it would be enough for you. Even if that meant you were never going to be able to give it to her like you wanted to.

Once you finally left your house, it was already past sunset. It was around this time that you knew Eula would be getting out of training for the day and you’d made sure to avoid the usual path she took towards her home. There were days you used to meet her at the central fountain for dinner or even at the doors of the knight’s headquarters. Today you were meant to do the latter. Never once had you not shown up for your promised outings with her and today would be your first and last offense. You just hoped she wouldn’t hold it too much against you.

The central marketplace wasn’t bustling with as many people as it had during midday. The crowds were thinning and some vendors were already packing up their stalls for the day. You were greeted by some of the people you knew, many of them blatantly staring at the large bandage on your cheek yet never asking what the cause of it was. They mainly bid you a good day and even sent you off with some gifts. As you bit into one of the apples given to you, you had a feeling they might have already known what kind of person your father was. Maybe you were not as good at hiding your injuries as you thought. Or was he just not good at hiding his hate for you?

Nighttime was close to falling upon you. The sky shifted from its orange hue into deep indigo and the stars were beginning to poke through to shine in all their glory. The main gate to Mondstadt stood in front of you, towering over you in height and your sudden smallness in comparison almost intimidated you. You really were leaving. That might have been your original goal, yet it hadn’t truly sunk in until the moment you were standing before the city's massive gates. You’ve been outside of Mondstadt on numerous occasions, but never with the intent of leaving forever. Your chest felt heavy with a mixture of various emotions and your eyes burned with unshed tears.

There was a part of you that wished to turn back and just bear with your father’s presence like you had for all these years. This part of you was scared. Fearful of what lies beyond the safety of the walls surrounding Mondstadt and afraid of taking the first step to true freedom. Here, you would never become anything more than a prisoner to the unjust guilt of your mother’s death. You would never gain the happiness you truly desired, nor would you ever become the person strong enough to stand by Eula’s side. You wanted nothing more than to be different and staying here would not allow you that freedom to grow.

You steeled yourself, hands clutching tightly at the strap of your bag as you continued on towards the main gates. You had no plans of stopping any longer, nor did you allow yourself even a second of hesitation. Now was the time to go. Now was your very last cha-

“[Name]?”

With widened eyes, your head whipped in the direction of the familiar voice. Standing just a few feet away from you was Eula. She looked at you with momentary confusion, her expression mellowing out as she eyed both the packed bag resting at your hip and the bandage on your face.

“E-Eula. . .” You muttered as she stepped closer towards you. One of your hands, unconsciously delving towards the flap of your bag as if to prevent her from seeing what was inside. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that what you’re going to say to me?” She asks with crossed arms and a stern expression. From the look of her face, you already knew what she was going to say. “You have a lot of nerve standing me up when you were the one who wanted to meet today. . .”

You weren’t really expecting her to show up at this moment, not when you initially thought she’d go home rather than look for you. Yet, here she stood. In front of you with a creased brow and a rather childish pout on her lips that would have normally made you laugh if not for the current circumstances.

“Sorry,” You apologized, your hands relaxing at your side now that the initial surprise dispersed. “I kinda got into it with my father. . .” You laughed a bit to ease your own nerves as one of your hands anxiously rubbed at the cloth bandage on your cheek. You knew your injury could never escape her. It was far too big for you to hide this time. “But don’t worry, I’m fine!”

You did your best to place the most assuring smile on your face as you looked back up to her. But she didn’t look all too convinced. Instead, her eyes conveyed something far different than what you were used to seeing from her. Her expression was soft. Far too soft for someone who was never forward with feelings that pertained to herself. She was worried for you.

“Where are you going?” Her tone too was so soft and gentle. As if she were afraid you were going to run away the moment she raised her voice. The crease in her brow returned and you realized she finally understood what your intentions were. You knew it would only be a matter of time until it all clicked into place for her, but you hoped you would have been out the city gates and halfway to Liyue by then.

She reached for your hand that hovered over your injured cheek, tenderly cradling it in her gloved one as she held onto you. This was her way of keeping you from going anywhere, you knew her touch might have meant nothing to her, but it made your heart feel as if it were going to burst. You felt trapped by her gaze and you attempted to formulate something to say or an excuse to give. Eula was not good for you right now. She made you hesitate. She made you want to stay.

But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

“Out.” You finally answered, stepping away from her and pulling your hand from her gentle hold. Your feigned smile returned to your lips. “But only for a bit, I’ll be back.”

It hurt to lie to someone who was always so honest with you. Even more so when that person was Eula herself. You never wanted to say your goodbye like this and if it were up to you, you wished to have just silently disappeared from her life like you were planning. You quickly turned away from her, the flash of hurt across her face from your obvious lie was crumbling your resolve. You no longer held hesitance in your steps as you strode out of the main gates and behind you, you could hear Eula rushing to follow. At this rate, the tears that were building up were about ready to burst. She wasn’t making this parting any easier than it could have been. You suppose you only had yourself to blame. If you hadn’t liked her as much as you did, maybe she wouldn’t be so adamant in trying to stop you now.

“Wait, [name]!” She grasped your arm, halting you to a complete stop. Her expression appeared more panicked than it was once before. It was only until you were in her hold that she regained some composure. Though her face was still wrought with worry. “Let me escort you to wherever you’re going. It’s dangerous out here, especially at night. You’ll let me do that at least, won’t you?”

Your lips parted, a refusal already at the tip of your tongue but before you could decline her offer, you were interrupted by the distant shouted calls of your name. Your father knows. Eula seemed to have noticed too as she looked briefly over her shoulder before looking back at you. If her suspicions weren’t already confirmed, then your fearful expression would have sealed the deal. You were running away. Now even she knew that.

“Eula, let go.” You attempted to pull yourself away from her but her grip was tight. “Please, I need to go.”

For several moments she looked conflicted and the feeling of dread only continued to increase with the nearing proximity of the shouted calls. If your father found you now, he’d never let you go. You pulled your arm again, this time with more desperation and this seemed to have brought her out of whatever thoughts she may have been engrossed in.

“Springvale.” She utters to you and you look at her with confusion. “I’ll meet you at Springvale. Wait for me.”

Her words border a demand and plead. While she was never one to beg, her tone was desperate enough to insinuate her words were a helpless request. Although she still looks troubled and hesitant, she lets you go. You waste no time in putting a bit of distance between yourself and the gates and it was only until you were nearing the bridge that you looked back at her. She stared after you and the difference from earlier was that she appeared to be more resolved than she was previously. You didn’t know what was going through her mind, but you hoped she had no plans of dragging you back to Mondstadt.

“Midnight. I’ll only wait for you until then!” You shout towards her and turn away before she’s given the chance to respond. You don’t know if she heard you but in the end, it wouldn’t matter. You weren’t planning on waiting past the time allotted. No matter what, you were leaving.

You had never ventured this far from Mondstadt. As a person who had no training in combat or in possession of a vision, you weren’t even allowed past the bridge without either Amber or Eula accompanying you. From a young age, it was drilled into your head that there were dangerous monsters roaming the plains outside of Mondstadt’s walls and so you were fully expecting your path from the city to Springvale to be anything but peaceful. You were surprised to find it was the complete opposite. It was quite relaxing. The scenery, despite it being nighttime, was still a sight to behold. Instead of monsters and other frightening things, you were instead accompanied with only the ambiance of the evening that included the dissonant melodies of crickets and the hoots of distant owls.

Springvale was easy to navigate even without the handy map you thankfully thought to have nabbed from your father’s study months ago. While you never planned to run away at that time, it was merely your curiosity of the outside world that drove you to take it for yourself. Your coincidental foresight thankfully saved you from getting lost and ungraciously becoming a monster’s next meal. It may have been proven useless for this small detour, it was sure to help you out in the nearing future. Especially if you were bound to make the trek all the way to Liyue by yourself.

The small village of Springvale was definitely more quaint than you imagined. You heard much about it from Sara as she once told you it was mainly occupied by hunters who provided quality meat to many of Mondstadt’s restaurants, including the one she worked at. It was peaceful here. The lull of the gentle breeze swaying the surrounding trees and the sound of nearby rushing waters. It was certainly peaceful and though you wished to explore further into the village, you didn’t wish to alarm anyone of your sudden presence. Especially so late at night. Instead, you opted to seat yourself on the ground at the village’s entrance with your back against the Springvale sign. You didn’t have a chance to discuss a meeting place with Eula, so you determined this would be the easiest place to spot her.

That was if she came.

Midnight was fast approaching and from your spot on the ground, you could see the stars glittering above you brighter than they had hours ago. Among the many thoughts in your head, you couldn’t help but wonder why Eula insisted you wait for her. The expressions she showed you during that split moment you were set to leave, was different from anything you’ve ever seen before. She was always a blunt person, straightforward in all of her words, and never was one who held a single doubt in any of her decisions. You liked that part about her. You thought her honesty was refreshing. To see her look so troubled, conflicted by something you did made you curious. You could remember her pursed lips, furrowed brows, and the disheartened look in her eyes as if the realization of you leaving deeply saddened her. Were you truly that precious of a person for her to make such an expression? Was her concern for you merely out of friendship or had it meant something more? In the end, did it even matter? You were leaving and there was little to no chance you’d ever see her again. In the future, she may forget you, which might have been something you were hoping for but the thought of it still saddened you. You never wanted to be forgotten by someone you cherished.

Your gaze dropped from the sky, glancing down at your lap where your now finished handkerchief lied. You eyed the small blue and white flower embroidered near the corner of the square cloth. It was a Glaze Lilly, a flower you’ve seen in a book and one that deeply reminded you of Eula herself. Your lips curved into a smile, the tip of your finger tracing over the light blue-colored thread. You thought it was a fitting gift and even if you weren’t so sure if you were going to give it to her now, it would be enough to serve as a reminder of your time together with her. It would be a keepsake that you’d never let go of.

Your ears perk at the sound of approaching footsteps and through the darkness of the night, you were able to see Eula perfectly. Slung across her chest was a bag filled with something you couldn’t quite see and poking over her shoulder was the handle of her weapon. She held a pensive expression on her face as she continued on the path towards Springvale and it was only when she spotted your seated form that she seemingly snapped out from whatever thoughts occupied her. You rose up to your feet to greet her, dusting off your pants before adjusting your bag to rest more comfortably against you. The handkerchief you finished embroidering was now tucked away in your pocket and you nervously glided your thumb against the soft cloth. You finally broke the silence the moment she stopped just in front of you.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” You admitted, your gaze holding her own for a few seconds before dropping towards the bag hanging at her side. You furrowed your brow, glancing back up at her with the question already at the tip of your tongue. “What’s that for?”

“Why wouldn’t I show up? A promise is a promise. . . even if I don’t quite understand what you’re doing.” She answers as she lies a hand on the bag on her hip. “And this? it's stuff I brought that would be useful for our trip.”

You blink at her words, silently processing them as she takes a look at your considerably lighter luggage. “It was a good thing I did because, from the looks of it, you didn’t bring much.”

“Wait- wait, what do you mean ‘our trip’? You’re coming with me?” Your tone was risen slightly, but not enough to attract attention. While you were taken off guard by her words, you were still mindful of the fact that it was quite late into the night.

Eula laughed through her nose, smiling down at you faintly as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do you think I kept you waiting? If it were up to me, I would have escorted you all the way over here, but you looked like you were in a rush.” When you appeared unsatisfied with her vague answer, she breathed a sigh. “I needed permission. Of course, I can’t stay with you forever, but at least I can safely take you where you want to go.”

For a moment there, you really thought that she was going to leave everything behind just to come with you. But that was a ridiculous thought. Eula was diligent in everything she did and that included her duties as a knight. She would never abandon them for selfish reasons and you could never ask her to. You smiled, your heart fluttering with the knowledge that she had already done so much for you without you even asking. She didn’t press you for answers and she didn’t ridicule you for your decision to leave. She merely wanted to help and right now, you needed that more than ever. The journey would be dangerous but with her as an escort, you were guaranteed a safe passage.

“Thank you,” You said as you turned towards the main path towards Liyue. You waited until she stepped to your side to continue. “I was in a rush so I didn’t have time to prepare much. I appreciate it a lot.”

Eula didn’t say anything for a few minutes, simply walking by your side until she finally spoke again. Her voice took on that gentle tone once more, the one you remembered briefly hearing back near Mondstadt’s gates. It always took you by surprise with how softspoken she could be.

“Can I ask why?” You knew exactly what she was referring to with that question. “Why do you want to leave Mondstadt?” You expected it and you felt you owed her at least an explanation.

“For a lot of reasons.” You smiled again, meeting her gaze for a moment before looking back at the dirt path before you. “But if I tell you them, you can’t tell Amber. They’d make her sad and Amber’s not the type of person to be sulking around.”

“I won’t.”

You glanced at her, your head tilted slightly, and your smile widened. “Promise?”

She audibly sighed, throwing you a mildly irritated look that you laughed off. “Fine, I promise.”

You looked up at the sky, clutching onto the strap of your bag for comfort. The silence of the night combined with the twinkling stars above made you feel at ease. Eula’s presence had also added to the comfort and for once your own feelings didn’t suffocate you. She, alone, brought that sense of security. “I felt like there was nothing really for me there.”

“Everyone was changing in their own ways, growing to become incredible people.” You glanced over at her, the tender smile never leaving your face. “Especially you and Amber. The two of you were getting closer toward your own goals and I. . .”

You looked away, finding the ground to be far more welcoming. Your honesty scared you, yet you didn’t dare stop telling her the truth. Eula wanted the real reason for you leaving, you couldn’t ignore it nor could you make up some excuse to give her. She deserved far better than that.

“I wasn’t changing at all.” You admitted, your smile turning bitter before fading completely. “I think I was growing too complacent with everything and after a while, I really started to hate myself.”

Eula suddenly grabbed your upper arm, halting you to a stop as she forcefully turned you towards her. While her grip on you wasn’t strong enough to be painful, you could tell it would be difficult to break away from her if you chose to do so. But you didn’t want to. She leaned into you, almost as if she were afraid losing sight of you now meant to lose you forever. You stared into her eyes, taking in the various expression of hurt, anger, and concern. Once again you found her worrying for you when she didn’t need to. Though, you could admit you did find this hidden side of her to be quite adorable.

“Why are you talking like that? If I had know-”

You stopped her by placing both of your hands on either side of her face and squishing her cheeks slightly as you grinned. You could have never imagined a time when you could touch her so freely, yet she didn’t look as if she minded nor did she avoid your touch. She merely looked at you, curious about what you were going to say. “Don’t worry so much, Eula, and let me finish. I wasn’t done explaining.”

You stepped away, hands leaving her visage, yet her grip on you never faltered. Her gloved hand slid down from your arm to join with your hand. It kept you from creating that distance you thought she might have wanted from you and the assuring squeeze you felt against your fingers told you that she too wanted you close.

You honestly felt so helpless when it came to this woman.

“I want to become someone strong.” You finally say, voicing your silent wish. It was a dream you thought impossible to attain at one point, but now that you were free from Mondstadt’s walls, you felt like anything was possible. “I want to be someone worthy to stand by both your’s and Amber’s side. But to do that, I needed to leave. It was only a coincidence that I decided to do it after fighting with my father.”

Her eyes fell to your bandaged cheek and then your joined hands before you felt her squeeze your fingers once more. “I’m sorry for letting it go on for so long. I should have done something. Anything.”

You couldn’t blame her for that. Really, you couldn’t blame anyone. Your father had his own problems to deal with, and while he remained ignorant to the hurt he caused you, there was no use in forcing him to realize his mistakes. He'd never learn. Not until he came to terms with it himself. Maybe one day you might hear an apology from him but for now, all you wanted was to forget and build yourself a new life.

“There’s no need for you to apologize. I just want to be free from the past and already, you’re helping me do that. So don’t ever, for a second, think I blame you.” You said. Then, with a cheeky smile, you added. “Besides, what kind of Lawrence seeks forgiveness from a commoner like me?”

She looked up at you, her eyes wide with surprise before a smile of her own broke out across her face. She looked as if something had dawned upon her; a realization she had yet to see until that very moment. You could never fathom what was going on in the mind of a woman as unique as her. What could have possibly caused her to make a smile a sweet as that?

You felt her fingers intertwine with your own and she pulled you closer to her, the both of your chests touching with the lack of distance. You could feel her breath against the bridge of your nose, brushing slightly against your lips. Your heart pounded heavily against your chest, so hard you thought she might have been able to feel it. You never realized just how captivating her gaze was. In her eyes, you felt as if you could get lost. From afar, you thought they were pretty but up close, they were beautiful.

“You’re right, how dare you make me bow my head.” She whispers as her face nears your own and you could feel her every word against your lips. She was slow enough in her movements to give you time to move away if you chose to, yet you didn't. You wanted to know how she felt towards you and with each passing second, you felt as if you were getting closer to that truth. Her eyes never break away from yours and you don’t move a muscle. This situation was totally new to you, yet you don’t find yourself hating it. Instead, your heart pounds even louder to the point you could hear it ringing in your ears. “For that, you must pay the ultimate price.” Along with the closing distance, your eyes fluttered shut.

Goodbyes never felt freer. Neither had they ever tasted so sweet.

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