#he made his mistakes but it was a heartbreaking moment anyway

[kryptonbabe]

"A good father. Something I'm not"

Oh Ollie...

From Green Lantern #8 (2006)

[mononijikayu]

the other woman — ryomen sukuna.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.” But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.” And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, hurt, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of illness, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 11k words

NOTE: this was always going to be long, because it's heartbreaking. and heartbreaking ones have to be something that has to be expressed well. i listened to this in a audio software like its a podcast and i actually liked it. the other woman by nina simone was the constant in the writing. also, this is the aftermath of ashes of love, which is a series i did about heian sukuna. anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

main masterlist

the other woman masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

══════════════════

YOU KNEW THAT YOU WERE THIS UNLUCKY. The moment you were born, there would be a bleak fate for you to live. You were an accidental child, and multiple times, your own mother had nearly miscarried. Perhaps even as a fetus, you had always known this. How cursed you were. Even if you had done nothing. 

When your mother brushed your hair as a child, she would tell you of how you were born. She said that when you breathed the air for the first time, you were melancholic in the silence to the world. Somehow knew that you were built for this miserable world. And every day since that day, you knew. You were meant to live life without true joyous jubilation.

It did not help that the day you were born, there was a lone dark star in the morning sky, one which had been considered a bad omen. And with that, the whispers of fate echoing long before you had even had consciousness to know. Your village nestled in the shadowed valleys of Hida province, a place of whispered dread and ancient pacts. And for the longest of times, the once prosperous Hida province was in turmoil. 

And so, in those days, if there was anyone who controlled the ruins of Hida, it was that god-like curse user Ryomen Sukuna. His name alone was a talisman against the unknown horrors that lurked beyond the mountains, a deity whose power and wrath commanded fear and reverence in equal measure. And all either quivered at the sight of him or drew fanatic fervor. 

The Ryomen clan, his kin at one point, were at war—embroiled in brutal conflicts with neighboring clans for so long. And this had been going on before you were even born. The blood had soaked the earth for so long that the soil seemed to thirst for it. And the people were exhausted. 

The clan struggled to maintain control over Hida for a long time now, their influence fraying like an old tapestry torn at the seams. And with that, a power vacuum had long been in existence. The chaos of the era was a tide that threatened to drown them all, and Ryomen Sukuna's protection became the last fragile hope for those who called this land their home.

Your parents spoke in hushed voices of the offerings, the sacrifices made by the villagers to appease their god, the man who can save them,  this man to fear and worship, Ryomen Sukuna. To ensure his protection, they said. For years, the sacrifices continued, the chosen ones becoming mere footnotes in a history written in blood and fear. 

It came upon you rather quickly when you were young and it struck you—that the villagers saw you not as one of their own, but as a piece on a board, a pawn destined for slaughter. A sacrifice to their god. You would be among the countless, one more life to be cast into the jaws of the demon god they all feared.

The day of your sacrifice came as the sky was painted with hues of blood and gold, a cruel irony that did not escape you. The air was heavy with incense and prayer, but there was no comfort in their muttered words, no solace in the chants that pleaded for Sukuna's mercy. They adorned you in ceremonial robes, marked with symbols and sigils, your skin painted with the sacred ink that was supposed to cleanse your soul before the offering.

You were led through the village, a procession of death that seemed to stretch on forever. The eyes that watched you pass were filled with a mixture of pity and relief—relief that it was not them, not their child, not their blood that would be spilled today. Mothers held their children close, men bowed their heads, and the elders chanted in a low, continuous hum that sent shivers down your spine.

At the shrine, they bound you to the altar, thick ropes biting into your skin as you stared at the sky, searching for a sign, a miracle that never came. The high priest began his incantation, his voice rising above the murmur of the crowd. You could feel the cold seep into your bones, the air around you thickening as if the very world held its breath.

And then, you felt it—the shift in the air, the heavy presence that pressed against your chest like a vice. You had never seen him before, but you knew it was Sukuna. The villagers gasped, a collective intake of breath as his form materialized from the shadows, a figure cloaked in malice and power.

His eyes, crimson and unforgiving, swept over you like a cold blade. You felt your heart hammer against your ribcage, fear clawing at your throat. You were nothing to him, just another offering, another desperate plea from a village clinging to survival.

Ryomen Sukuna smiled, a slow, cruel smile that sent a tremor through the crowd. He stepped forward, each movement a ripple in the air, as if reality itself bent to his will. You met his gaze, defiant in your fear, knowing that you were one of many. Countless lives had been given to him, countless souls lost to his hunger.

And now, it was your turn.

  

══════════════════

YOU HAD NEVER EXPECTED TO MEET THE MAN IN THE FLESH. But before you stood this man, this god, with dark crimson eyes. Taller than any tree, intimidating than any curse. Frightening than hell itself. You could remember when you were younger. The whispers reached you before you even stepped foot in the shrine, everyone has. Tales of Ryomen Sukuna had traveled through the villages like the wind, carrying with them rumors that were both terrifying and tragic. 

You had always known that the man was delighted with the worship of the human people. But they said he had taken no other concubines, that he showed no interest in any woman who dared come near him.

And if he did, they were more likely to be servants than anything close to a concubine. And some were not so lucky. Some spoke in hushed tones, their voices trembling with fear, that he was a monster of unspeakable debauchery, one who had killed the women for even daring to breathe in his presence.

But the truth, as you had come to understand it, was far more tragic. At least from how you see it. The people of Hida knew—oh, they believed—the story was told long ago. There was someone who had been so loved long ago and most of all, by Sukuna.

Ryomen Hiromi, the one who had captured Sukuna's heart, the one he had loved beyond reason. There was another Sukuna a long time ago, many were aware. But there was nothing proven.

If anything, the children of Hiromi reject any notion of such a relationship. But the tale was woven into the very fabric of tales told, whispered among the elders late at night and shared in riddles among the children who barely understood the weight of what they spoke.

Hiromi, they said, had been his sun, his moon, his stars. A woman of beauty and strength, whose laughter could calm the wildest storms and whose voice was like the sweetest song. She had been the only one to ever touch his heart, to see the man beneath the demon god. But she was gone now, lost to time and tragedy, leaving Ryomen Sukuna to languish in his grief. 

No one dared speak her name aloud, not when Sukuna’s rage could split the earth itself. People have seen it. It was said he mourned her loss every day, that his fury was born from the emptiness she left behind. And that was why he would not tolerate any other woman. No one was going to be like her. None would match her wit, her beauty. Why should the king of curses settle for less when he had the world? 

As you lay on the cold altar, the ropes cutting into your skin, your thoughts were consumed by the stories. What kind of man—no, what kind of creature—was Sukuna? You wonder about this paradox of a man, this creature like god.

Did he truly mourn, or was that just another tale spun by terrified villagers to make him seem more human? What was he, actually? You had a million questions, and you know they will never truly be answered.

A gust of wind stirred the trees around you, the leaves rustling like whispered secrets. You heard the shuffle of feet, felt the eyes of the villagers upon you, their fear palpable. Then, you heard his voice. You could feel it all, that powerful cursed energy, coming from one direction. For a moment, you had no words. Only uncertainty.

"Why do they send another?" Sukuna's voice was like a low growl, rumbling through the air with the force of a storm. "Do you think I am so easily appeased, you fools?"

You dared to lift your head, the ropes pulling at your skin as you met his crimson gaze. He was tall, imposing, and every bit as terrifying as the stories had painted him. But there was something else there—something in his eyes that spoke of deep, simmering pain.

"Do you truly want to know why they sent me?" you found yourself saying, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your throat.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you down then and there. But he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Speak, then, girl." he said. "Tell me why I should not turn you to dust where you lie."

You swallowed, gathering your courage. "They send me because they fear you, because they believe you will protect them if they give you what you want. But… no one knows what you truly want, do they? No one speaks of her. Of Hiromi."

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face, and you knew you had struck a nerve. The air grew colder, a chill that seemed to seep into your very bones.

"Hiromi is dead." he said, his voice quiet but filled with an edge that could cut through steel. "And no one speaks her name. It is what I command.”

"But you still mourn her…." you continued, unable to stop yourself. "Do you not, my lord?”

His dark gaze bore into you, the weight of it almost unbearable. For a long moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched on like an eternity. Then, slowly, he laughed—a sound that was bitter and hollow.

"You dare ask?" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. "What do you know of it all, little one? What do you know about such a life lived?"

You felt a tremor run through you, but you did not look away. "I know enough, my lord." you replied softly. "I know enough to see that your anger is not born of hatred, but of grief."

Sukuna's cruel smile quickly faded, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly swallowed by the darkness. He hated how you said it, you know it too well. But there was no other choice. You were here for a purpose and you must fulfill it. You must. 

"You are bold, little one." he murmured. "Bold….for someone so close to death."

"Perhaps, my lord." you whispered back to him. "But if I am to die, I would rather die knowing who you truly are, rather than the monster they say you are."

He stared at you for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then, he stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the power that thrummed through him like a thunder strike.

"Then you are a fool, little one." he said quietly. "For believing that I am anything more than a monster."

But there was something in his voice, something that made you wonder if perhaps… he wished you were right.

For the meantime, you were lucky to have your life, despite speaking so boldly, despite saying her name aloud—the name that everyone else dared not utter. Sukuna’s silence stretched on, his crimson eyes still locked onto yours, unreadable, cold yet burning with something darker beneath the surface. He could have ended you with a flick of his wrist, reduced you to ashes for your insolence. And yet, he did not.

He leaned closer, the edges of his form blurring into the shadows that seemed to ripple around him like stabbing waves in the ocean. His breath was hot against your skin, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. You felt your heart pound in your chest, each beat a drum that signaled your fragile hold on life.

“Perhaps you are simply foolish. Many have died for far less than what you dared to speak.” Sukuna finally said, his voice low, almost contemplative. “Huh, you speak brashly.”

The villagers around you seemed to hold their breath, waiting for his judgment. They looked at you with a mixture of horror and awe, unable to believe you were still alive after uttering the forbidden name. You, a mere sacrifice, a lamb thrown to the wolf, had survived what so many others had not.

“Why do you think I will let you live?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense silence, his tone curious, but with a dangerous edge. “Do you think I find you interesting? Amusing? Or perhaps I see something of her in you, something worth sparing?”

You swallowed hard, the reality of your situation settling in. You had survived speaking out of turn, but you were still bound to this altar, still at the mercy of a being who could destroy you on a whim. Yet, something in his words gave you pause, a flicker of something unspoken that lingered just beneath his surface.

“I do not presume to know your reasons, my lord.” you replied carefully, choosing each word like a step on thin ice. “But if you see something of her in me… then perhaps I am not so different from you after all.”

Sukuna’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing. “Not so different?” He laughed, a sound that was both mirthful and bitter, filled with a deep, aching emptiness. “You compare yourself to me? To Ryomen Sukuna? You are a child, a mere mortal who knows nothing of gods or demons, of love that scorches the soul and burns the world to ash.”

“And yet…..” you dared to continue, feeling the tightness in your chest. “If my lord felt nothing, you wouldn’t care enough to be angry… or to remember.”

He stiffened, and for a moment, his expression faltered. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, his aura flickering like a candle flame caught in a strong wind. You sensed that you were dancing on a razor’s edge, but you could not stop now. There was something here, something raw and real beneath the monstrous exterior.

“Enough.” Sukuna hissed, his voice a sharp command. The air grew colder, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “You dare much, human. Too much.”

You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, the moment when his patience would finally snap. But instead, Sukuna’s lips curled into a faint smile, one that did not reach his eyes.

“Perhaps I will spare you.” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. “If only to see how long that fire burns before it is extinguished. Or perhaps to see if you will end up like the rest—broken, hollow, pleading for mercy where there is none.”

He turned away from you then, his back a wall of power and darkness, his form towering against the dim light of the shrine. The villagers started, stunned, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You will reside in my temple.” Sukuna commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will remain there, under my watch. Let them see what comes of those who speak of things best left forgotten.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mixture of fear and shock. They did not understand why he had spared you, why you, of all people, were allowed to live. Perhaps they thought you were cursed, or perhaps they thought Sukuna had some darker plan in mind. But you knew better. You knew that, in some small way, you had touched on a wound that had never healed, a scar buried deep beneath his monstrous exterior.

And as Sukuna vanished into the shadows, you realized that your fate was no longer in the hands of the villagers, or even in the hands of the gods they prayed to. No, your fate was now bound to his—a god who mourned like a man, a monster who remembered what it was to love.

══════════════════

IN A WAY, IT IS NOT SO BAD, BEING HIS CONCUBINE. You spent your days in isolation, your life confined within the walls of Sukuna's palace. You were nothing more than a servant, though they called you a concubine. The title meant little, for you were given no special privileges, no adornments, no tokens of affection. 

But it was a life. Your life. And it lived in some comfort, more than what is experienced by the rest of Hida province. You had multiple meals a day, you had rooms to yourself and even servants that address every bit of your needs.

Still, your world was small, your days filled with the quiet tending of the gardens, watching the shifting sky as the hours bled into one another. The flowers you nurtured became your only friends, their petals a fragile comfort against the cold indifference that surrounded you.

Perhaps the peace came from the fact that you did not see Sukuna often, and when you did, his gaze never lingered on you for long. He had no interest, no affection, no fondness to spare. You were simply there, like a shadow in the corner of his realm.

A figure lost amidst the vast emptiness of his domain. And perhaps that was for the best. It was better than being forced into Sukuna’s bed. You think that all women in the harem think that it was better that way.

But slowly, ever so slowly, something changed. His dark scarlet eyes began to linger, just a fraction longer than before. You felt the weight of his gaze like a chill running down your spine.

The other servants noticed it too, their whispers growing louder, bolder. You finally caught his attention. But it wasn’t because he had come to care for you, to see you as anything more than the nothing you were.

No, the truth was much crueler than that.

You were a spitting image of Ryomen Hiromi, the woman who haunted his every step, the ghost who lived in the shadows of his mind. At least that’s what the people say. But you did not want to believe them. Yet, looking at the murals at the glass gardens, the resemblance was uncanny.

It was obvious somehow. It was similar, everything. Your eyes, your hair, the curve of your smile. Every feature, every gesture seemed to remind him of her. And though you knew you could never be her, you had become a cruel echo, a reflection of something he had long lost.

And soon enough, the people talked. Of course, they did. They always talked. You tried to shut them out, but the more they whispered, the more people listened. And the more they listened, the more people spoke.  

“She reminds him of Hiromi, I am certain!” they whispered. “She is nothing but a shadow, a poor replacement for the one he truly loved. She lives in her image, as if she could ever hope to fill her place.”

You became the other woman, even when you didn’t want to be. No, not even that. You were a pale imitation, a mockery of a woman who had captured the heart of the king of curses. Every glance Ryomen Sukuna spared you was not a look of admiration or desire—it was the gaze of a man staring into the past, into a memory that was forever out of reach.

And so, you lived your life as another woman. No, the other woman. To a dead woman. To a love that had died long ago, but never truly left. 

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when the silence was so thick it pressed against your skin like a heavy shroud, you would wonder about her. About Ryomen Hiromi. Who was she, really? What had she meant to him, this fearsome god, this creature of darkness who now watched you as if searching for something he had lost in her eyes, now reflected in yours.

He never spoke of her. He does not want to. He does not dare to. Not to you, not to anyone. Some servants have been here longer than you and they have seen people killed over even a mumble of a prayer for the lady. And so you don’t ask. 

Not even when there were times he would come closer, when his dark eyes lingered on your face, searching, always searching. Yet he will never truly find it. He knew this, as much as you did. But it was as if he was trying to see her again, trying to find her in your skin, in your voice, in the way you moved through the gardens like she once had, perhaps. It was hope, a foolish hope. And yet you cannot escape this foolish hope.

The weight of her memory suffocated you. You were not allowed to be yourself, to have your own name, your own identity. You were always, always compared to her, measured against a ghost that you could never be, never touch. And Sukuna, with his cold gaze and his empty eyes, reminded you of it every day.

"You’re not her, little one." he said once, his voice low, more to himself than to you, as if testing a truth he could not fully accept. “You’ll never be her.”

His words cut deeper than any blade, leaving you with the bitter taste of something unnameable, something that tasted like defeat, or perhaps longing, or perhaps both. You had never wished to be her, to be anyone but yourself. But here, in his domain, under his shadow, you were not allowed that freedom.

You were trapped, forever bound to a life that was not your own, in the shadow of a dead woman who would never release you, and a man who could never let her go.

Days bled into nights, a blur of routine and solitude, and you began to feel like a ghost yourself, haunting the corners of Sukuna's palace, where life seemed to move around you but never through you. The servants kept their distance, wary of your resemblance, as if fearing you might be some ill omen, cursed to echo the tragedy of the past.

And Sukuna… he watched you, always watching, his eyes a deep crimson that saw too much and yet revealed nothing. He was like a storm contained within the fragile walls of the palace, his presence a force of nature that you could neither escape nor fully comprehend. His mood was mercurial; one day, he would barely acknowledge you, and the next, his gaze would linger on you, heavy with something you couldn’t name.

“Do you enjoy the garden?” he asked one afternoon, his tone deceptively casual, as if he were simply inquiring about the weather.

You glanced up, surprised that he had addressed you at all. He rarely spoke directly to you, even when his eyes seemed to follow your every movement. “I do,” you replied, careful, measured. “It is quiet there. Peaceful.”

“Quiet…peaceful.” he repeated, almost as if tasting the word. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. “Yes, she liked the quiet too. Always wandering among the flowers. Trees too. She’d like that then.”

You stiffened at the mention of her, the ghost you lived with every day, who lingered in every corner of this place. “I am not her, my lord.” you said, a tremor in your voice. You had repeated these words to yourself countless times, but they sounded fragile, almost insignificant when spoken aloud.

Sukuna's expression did not change. If anything, his gaze grew sharper, like a blade pressed against your skin. “No, little one.” he agreed softly, almost mockingly, “You are not her. But you will do… for now.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, refusing to let him see the fear that coiled within you, like a snake waiting to strike. “Why do you keep me here?” you dared to ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why do you watch me as if you expect me to become someone else?”

He laughed then, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You misunderstand, little one. I do not expect you to become her. I know you never can. But you… remind me of her. And that is enough… for now.”

The way he said it, the way his eyes darkened with something unreadable, made your blood run cold. You were nothing more than a stand-in, a living, breathing reminder of something he had lost. A cruel joke played by fate, a shadow dancing in the place of the one who truly mattered. To be kept alive, your village kept alive — because you look like a ghost. 

“I am not a replacement, my lord.” you insisted, your voice firmer this time, surprising even yourself with the strength behind it. “I hope my lord knows that I will not live my life as a mere echo.”

His smile faded, his expression turning serious. “You think you have a choice?” he asked, leaning in closer, his face so near to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “You are here because I allow it. You exist at my whim, not because of who you are, but because of who you resemble. Do not mistake this for anything more than it is.”

The reality of his words hit you like a blow, the finality of it sinking deep into your bones. You were nothing to him, nothing but a passing fancy, a painful reminder of a past he could not reclaim.

“I am not her, my lord.” you repeated, your voice shaking with defiance, with a spark of something that refused to be extinguished. “And I will not be her for you. You must understand.”

For a moment, something flickered in Sukuna's eyes, something almost like surprise, perhaps even respect. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the cold, unfeeling mask he always wore.

“Brave words, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “But words mean little here, in my domain. You will learn that soon enough.”

He turned away from you then, leaving you standing alone in the empty hall, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands trembling at your sides. The silence closed in around you, heavy and oppressive, and you knew that nothing had changed. You were still trapped, still living in the shadow of a dead woman, still bound to the whims of a god who mourned like a man.

And yet, deep inside, something stirred—a flicker of defiance, of hope. You might be a ghost to him, a reflection of a lost love, but you were still alive. You were still you, and as long as you drew breath, you would not allow yourself to be consumed by his shadows. Not without a fight.

Time passed slowly in Sukuna’s palace, and with it, your heart began to change. You did not notice it at first; how could you? Day after day, the monotonous routine of your existence lulled you into a sort of numbness. The gardens became your refuge, the sky your solace.

Yet even as you tried to find comfort in these simple pleasures, you found your thoughts wandering back to him—Ryomen Sukuna, the fearsome god, the monster, the man who mourned like a human.

At first, you hated him, hated him for what he represented, for what he had made you into: a replacement, a mere shadow of someone who had meant everything to him. But as you watched him, as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, you began to see more.

You began to notice the things others did not—the subtle tension in his jaw when he was angry, the way his eyes softened just a fraction when he spoke of her, the quiet moments when he thought no one was looking, and the mask slipped, just a little.

You were in the garden one afternoon, trimming the roses, when you heard footsteps approaching. Sukuna rarely came to the garden, but today he seemed restless, pacing along the paths with a dark expression on his face. He stopped by the old cherry blossom tree, his eyes distant, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Without thinking, you moved closer. "Is something troubling you, my lord?" you asked quietly, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. You had learned not to provoke him, to keep your words soft and your gaze steady.

Sukuna looked at you sharply, as if surprised you had dared to speak. "Why do you care?" he snapped, his tone harsh, but you had seen the flicker of something else—a fleeting vulnerability, perhaps? “Such matters are none for you to care about, little one.”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I see you every day, my lord.” you replied softly. “I see how you… struggle over something. And I cannot help but… care.”

He scoffed, but it was a hollow sound. “Care?” he echoed, almost mockingly. “You think you understand me, mortal? You think you can comprehend the depths of what I am, of what I have lost?”

You bowed your head, feeling the sting of his words but refusing to back down. “I don’t pretend to understand, my lord.” you murmured. “But I see the pain in your eyes, the way you linger in places she once loved, the way you… look at me.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he turned away, his shoulders tense, his hands unclenching. “You are a fool, little one.” he muttered, almost too softly for you to hear. “A fool to think you can feel anything for me.”

And maybe you were a fool. A fool to care for a man who did not care for you, who saw you only as a shadow of someone else. But you could not help it. You could not stop the way your heart ached when you saw him, the way your breath caught when he looked at you with those sad, tired eyes.

Day by day, you found yourself drawn to him, not by his power or his beauty, but by the quiet moments when he thought no one was watching. The moments when his face softened, and you saw the man beneath the monster, the man who had loved so deeply and lost so terribly.

You saw the cracks in his armor, the places where he had been wounded, and you wanted, desperately, to reach out and touch them, to soothe the pain you knew he carried.

You found yourself thinking of him when you were alone, wondering what had made him this way, what had broken him so completely. You imagined him before all of this, before the darkness, before the loss, and you felt a strange, deep sorrow for the man he might have been.

One evening, as you were leaving the garden, you saw him standing by the cherry blossom tree again, his face turned upward, staring at the pale blooms against the darkening sky. He looked so lonely, so unbearably alone, that you felt your heart tighten in your chest.

Without thinking, you approached him, moving slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. “My lord, look.” you said softly, and he did not turn away. “The blossoms… they’re beautiful this year.”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Hiromi loved them.” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you could not quite name. “Fond of them.”

You nodded, your heart aching for him. “I imagine she did, my lord.” you replied. “They’re… peaceful.”

He was silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the flowers. Then he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She was… my peace.” he admitted, his tone so raw, so vulnerable, that it made your chest tighten painfully. “And now… there is only emptiness.”

You wanted to reach out to him, to touch his hand, to tell him that he was not as alone as he thought, but you knew he would not accept it. So you stood there, beside him, sharing the silence, hoping that maybe, in some small way, your presence could ease the ache in his heart.

And slowly, painfully, you realized that you were falling into the saddest position in the world. You were beginning to care for him, truly care for him, despite knowing that he did not, and could not, care for you. You were beginning to understand him, to see the depths of his sorrow, to feel the weight of his loss as if it were your own.

You were living as a shadow, and yet… you found yourself wishing, hoping, that someday he might see you as something more. Even if you were just a reflection of a memory, even if you could never be her, you wished, desperately, that you could become someone to him.

But as you looked at him, at the emptiness in his eyes, you knew that day might never come. And still, you could not help but care.

Days continued to slip by in a blur of silent moments and stolen glances, and though you tried to keep your heart guarded, you felt it slipping further and further away from you, like water through your fingers. You had resigned yourself to your fate—a concubine in name, a ghost in truth. You had accepted that Sukuna would never see you as anything more than a mere echo of what he had lost.

But as time passed, you noticed a subtle change in him. It was in the way his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, or how his tone softened when he spoke to you. It was in the quiet moments when you would catch him watching you, his expression inscrutable, as if he were trying to decipher some mystery he could not quite solve.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in shades of crimson and gold, you found yourself in the garden again. Sukuna was there, seated on a low stone bench beneath the cherry blossom tree, his face turned upward as if searching for something in the dying light.

You approached cautiously, unsure if he wanted your presence or not. He did not turn to look at you, but he did not send you away, either. You took it as a small mercy, a silent invitation to sit beside him.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you like a fragile thread, delicate and unbroken. Finally, Sukuna spoke, his voice low and contemplative. “You are always here, little one.” he murmured. “Always watching. Why?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I see you, my lord.” you replied quietly. “I see the way you carry your pain, the way you hide it behind your eyes. I… I understand it, in a way.”

He turned to you then, his gaze piercing, searching your face as if trying to find the truth hidden within your words. “And what do you think you understand?” he asked, a note of challenge in his tone.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his stare. “I think you loved her more than life itself, my lord.” you said softly. “And I think losing her broke something inside of you that will never heal.”

He was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed—a harsh, bitter sound that cut through the stillness like a knife. “You presume to know my heart, mortal.” he said, but there was no true malice in his voice, only a deep, hollow emptiness. “You think because you look like her, you can speak of love and loss?”

“I do not pretend to be her, my lord.” you answered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded in your chest. ���But I know what it is to lose, to live with emptiness. I know what it means to be alone, even in a crowded room.”

His eyes softened, just for a moment, and you could almost see the man beneath the monster, the one who had loved and lost, who had once been capable of kindness, of tenderness.

“You think you know loneliness?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost vulnerable. “You think you know what it is to love someone so deeply that their absence is like a knife in your soul, cutting you with every breath?”

“I think I’m starting to understand, my lord.” you whispered. “More than I ever wanted to.”

He looked away, his jaw clenched tight, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You are a fool.” he muttered, but there was no heat in his words, only a weary resignation. “You should hate me. You should despise me for what I am, for what I have made you.”

You shook your head slowly. “I can’t, my lord.” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. Maybe it’s because I see the pain in your eyes, the way you look at me… the way you remember her. I can’t hate you for that. I just… I wish things were different.”

He turned to you sharply, and for a moment, there was something raw and desperate in his gaze, something that spoke of a longing he had buried deep within himself. “Different?” he repeated, almost scoffing. “There is no ‘different’ for us. This is the world we have been given, and we must live in it.”

You felt your heart clench painfully, knowing he was right, knowing that no matter how much you wished for it, you could never truly reach him, could never become more than what you were—a shadow, a reflection of a woman long gone.

But you could not stop yourself from caring, from hoping that somehow, someway, he might see you, truly see you, not as a ghost or a replacement, but as a person in your own right.

You sighed, turning your gaze to the blossoms above. “I know, my lord.” you murmured. “I know that better than anyone. But I still… I still want to understand you. I still care, even if you don’t care for me.”

He was silent, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you feared you had said too much, crossed a line you could never return from. But then, slowly, he reached out and took your hand in his, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle.

“You are a strange one, little one.” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. “To care for a monster… to care for a man who has nothing left to give.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you did not bother to hide it. “Maybe I’m just a fool, my lord” you whispered. “But I can’t help it. I can’t help but care for you, even when I know you can’t care for me.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if looking for some answer he could not find. Then, without a word, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gesture so tender it took your breath away.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.”

But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.”

And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.

══════════════════

TIME FLEW BY AND WITH THAT, YOU AGED TOO. Slowly, like the steady drip of water carving its path through stone, Ryomen Sukuna began to accept your presence as something constant in his life. At first, it was subtle—the way he no longer sent you away when you appeared by his side, the way he allowed you to linger in his chambers or the garden without a word of complaint.

Over time, it grew into something more. He began to call for you, not often, but enough that you noticed. Sometimes, it was just to sit in silence while he read or stared into the fire, and other times, he would speak to you, his voice low and distant, as if he were speaking to himself rather than you.

He did not love you; you knew that much with painful certainty. His heart belonged to another, to a woman whose name he whispered in his dreams, whose memory seemed to haunt his every step. You were not her, and you never would be. You were a shadow of what he had lost, a pale reflection of a love that had burned too bright and consumed itself in the flames.

But he tolerated you, and in this dark, twisted place where fear ruled and love was a forgotten dream, that was enough. You had learned to find solace in the little things—the way his gaze would occasionally soften when he looked at you, the rare moments when his voice held a note of something other than indifference. 

You knew you would never escape Hiromi’s shadow. Her ghost lingered in every corner of this place, in every whispered word and hushed breath, in the way his eyes darkened whenever he spoke of her.

You were not foolish enough to think you could ever replace her in his heart, nor did you wish to. You had come to terms with your fate, with the cruel twist of destiny that had brought you here, to this palace where the walls seemed to whisper her name.

For the finite years of your mortal life, you would be what you were to him—an echo, a shadow, a living memory of something lost. You could have fought against it, could have railed against the injustice of it all, but you chose not to. You chose to make peace with what fate had given you, to find what small joys you could in the fleeting moments he allowed you to be near him.

There were times when the weight of your existence threatened to crush you, when you longed to scream, to demand that he see you for who you were, not for the woman you resembled. But those moments were few and far between, and you had learned to push them down, to bury them deep within your heart where they could not hurt you.

Instead, you found contentment in the little things—in the way his presence filled the room, in the rare, unguarded moments when he would speak to you of things he had buried deep within himself. You listened to his stories, the ones he told in quiet tones when he thought no one was listening, and you treasured them like precious gems, tiny fragments of the man he had once been.

You learned to be grateful for what you had, even if it was not what you had dreamed of. You accepted that you would always live in the shadow of Hiromi, that you would always be the "other woman"; the one who was not loved, but merely tolerated. And for as long as you had breath in your lungs and life in your veins, you chose to find peace in that.

You sat beside him by the fire, you felt a strange sense of calm settle over you. He was quiet, his eyes fixed on the flames, his expression thoughtful. He did not look at you, but you could feel his presence, warm and solid beside you, a reminder that you were not entirely alone in this world.

You turned your gaze to the fire, letting the heat warm your face, and you whispered, almost to yourself, “I do not ask for more than this. I am… content with what I have.”

He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to understand your words. “Content?” he repeated, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “You are content being nothing but a shadow?”

You smiled softly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Contentment is a choice, my lord.” you replied. “I chose to be content with what fate has given me. It is not happiness, but it is enough.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then he nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are wiser than I thought now, little one.” he murmured. “To find peace in a place like this… it is no easy feat.”

You nodded, knowing he spoke more to himself than to you. You had accepted that you would never be more than a shadow in his life, but even shadows had their place, their purpose. You would be content with that, for as long as your mortal years allowed.

The days passed with a creeping heaviness that settled into your bones, a fatigue that no amount of rest could cure. You began to feel the strain in every step, the way your breath came shorter, the way your limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. At first, you dismissed it as exhaustion, a lingering effect of sleepless nights and endless thoughts that twisted in your mind like shadows.

But then came the coughing fits, each one more violent than the last, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and a sharp pain in your chest. You ignored it at first, waving away the concerned glances of the servants who attended you. You kept your back straight and your face serene, refusing to acknowledge the way your body seemed to betray you.

Yet it grew harder to hide. The pain became more frequent, stabbing through your lungs like a knife with every breath, every step. The first time you coughed up blood, it was a shock—a bright, vivid red staining your hand. Your heart raced as you stared at the crimson stain, panic rising like bile in your throat.

You quickly wiped it away, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully, you were alone in your chamber, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, willing yourself to calm down. There was no reason to be afraid, you told yourself. It was just a momentary lapse, nothing more.

But it wasn’t. It happened again, and again. You found yourself waking in the night, gasping for air, your throat raw and burning. The servants began to notice the dark circles under your eyes, the way you would clutch your side when you thought no one was looking, the way you moved a little slower, a little more carefully.

There was a day that you sat in the garden, trying to find solace in the soft petals of the cherry blossoms, a violent fit seized you. You doubled over, coughing hard, and felt something wet and warm splatter against your lips. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and saw the unmistakable smear of blood.

A sharp gasp came from behind you. One of the younger servants had seen, her eyes wide with fear and concern. She rushed to your side, her hands trembling as she reached out to steady you.

“My lady, oh my!” she whispered, her voice filled with worry. “You’re… you’re bleeding.”

You shook your head, forcing a smile that felt like a grimace. “It is nothing.” you said, your voice hoarse. “Do not worry yourself over me.”

The servant looked unconvinced, her brow furrowed with concern. “I must tell Lord Sukuna.” she said quickly, glancing toward the entrance of the garden as if she expected him to appear at any moment. “He must know—”

“No, no…..” you cut her off sharply, your voice firmer than you had intended. “There is no point in that.”

She hesitated, confusion clouding her eyes. “But, my lady… you are unwell. He should—”

“He would not care, little girl.” you said softly, looking down at your blood-stained hand. “There is no use in troubling him with this. It would make no difference. Sukuna does not love me, nor does he care for me in that way. Do you think he would be moved by something as trivial as this?”

The servant bit her lip, clearly torn between her duty to you and her fear of Sukuna’s wrath. “But… if he knew, he might—”

“Might what?” you interrupted, your voice edged with a quiet resignation. “Send a healer? Take pity on me? No, he would not. I am nothing more than a reminder to him, a shadow of a past he cannot let go. He tolerates me, yes, but that is all.”

The servant looked at you, her eyes filling with tears, but she nodded slowly, understanding the weight of your words. She knew as well as you did that Sukuna’s heart was a barren, desolate place, filled with ghosts and haunted memories. There was no room for you there.

“Promise me, little girl.” you whispered, reaching out to touch her arm gently. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her expression tight with worry. “I promise, my lady.” she murmured, though you could hear the doubt in her voice.

You leaned back against the tree, closing your eyes and letting the cool breeze brush against your skin. You knew there was no point in hoping for more than what you had. Sukuna had given you a place by his side, but it was not out of affection. He had lost the woman he truly loved, and you were only a semblance of her—a shadow he tolerated, nothing more.

You were dying, that much was clear. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, a way to free yourself from this liminal existence, to escape the torment of being a living reminder of what he had lost. You could find peace in that, you thought. At least, you could try.

You would not burden him with your illness, with your slow, inevitable decline. You would carry it quietly, with dignity, for whatever time you had left. After all, what was one more life in the grand, cruel scheme of his world? You were just another fleeting moment in the endless march of time—another sacrifice, another offering to a man who had already lost everything he had ever cared for.

══════════════════

YOU DECIDED TO LET FATE RUN ITS COURSE. You let time pass by, letting the illness be hidden in the shadows of low whispers and painful tears in your long suffering days and nights. And sure enough, Ryomen Sukuna had returned from his long and exhausting trip within the next few days.

He had been famished from his trip and sent word that he would be having supper with you that night, which you had obliged without another word. You dressed in your finest, watching the servants prepare the table in your chambers and calmly thanked them one after another as they left.

The evening had settled into its usual quiet rhythm, with the two of you sharing dinner in the dimly lit chamber. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the walls, and the scent of roasted meat and simmered vegetables filled the air.

It was a routine you had come to accept with a resigned sort of familiarity, a ritual that offered a small measure of normalcy in your otherwise constrained existence.

You sat across from Sukuna, picking at your meal with an absent-mindedness that spoke more to your weariness than any lack of appetite. His presence was imposing, yet tonight, he was unusually subdued, his attention focused on the food in front of him rather than on you. And somehow, you were a bit more grateful for it.

As you took a sip from your cup, you looked up at him, your expression earnest. "My lord, do you not think you should be more understanding of your subjects?" you began, your voice gentle but firm. "I must implore you once more to be more lenient with the people. The fear you instill is one thing, but mercy could win you their loyalty and respect."

Sukuna's eyes, dark and inscrutable, met yours. He did not respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as if weighing your words. This was not the first time you had made this plea, and it was not likely to be the last. You had grown accustomed to his silence, to the way he would listen but rarely act upon your suggestions.

"It is not for me to coddle them, little one." he said finally, his voice low and dismissive. "Fear is a more effective tool than mercy. It ensures obedience."

You sighed softly, knowing well that your words often fell on deaf ears. Still, you persisted, driven by a conviction that even the smallest act of kindness could make a difference. "I understand your perspective, my lord,  but sometimes even the harshest rulers find strength in showing compassion. It can—"

Before you could finish your thought, a sudden, sharp pain gripped your chest. You gasped, doubling over slightly, and a violent coughing fit overtook you. You struggled to steady yourself, but the force of it was too strong. Blood splattered onto the table, the vibrant red stark against the white of your kimono and the pale wood of the dining surface.

Your heart raced as you quickly wiped the blood away with your sleeve, hoping to hide the evidence of your distress. You tried to maintain your composure, but your hands were trembling as you looked up at Sukuna, who had gone still, his eyes fixed on the crimson stain.

For a moment, there was a silence so thick it felt like a physical presence. Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze was heavy and unyielding, his red eyes locked onto the blood that had marred the table and your attire. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his silence, a heavy burden that pressed down upon you.

"It's nothing, my lord." you said hurriedly, forcing a weak smile as you tried to brush off the incident. "Just a momentary lapse. Please, continue with your meal."

Sukuna’s expression was unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. He did not speak, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—perhaps surprise, or concern, or something deeper that he quickly masked.

You could feel the tension between you, an invisible thread connecting your quiet plea to his unspoken thoughts. It was clear that your condition had not gone unnoticed, even if he chose not to acknowledge it openly. You had always been a presence in his life, but tonight, the reality of your fragility seemed to cut through the usual indifference.

He took a deep breath, his gaze finally shifting away from you as he turned his attention back to his meal. The silence that followed was filled with the soft clinking of utensils and the low murmur of conversation from the servants who hovered at the edges of the room, their eyes darting to you with barely concealed concern.

You ate in silence, each bite of food tasting like ash in your mouth. The pain in your chest had subsided, but a deep weariness remained, a lingering reminder of your deteriorating health. You glanced at Sukuna from time to time, but he was absorbed in his meal, his expression unreadable.

The conversation you had tried to initiate was now buried beneath the weight of your illness, and you knew better than to press further. The battle for his leniency would have to wait for another day, another time when you were not so overshadowed by your own suffering.

As the meal drew to a close, you felt the oppressive silence settle around you once more. Sukuna’s gaze was distant, his thoughts seemingly occupied with matters beyond the confines of the dining room. You could only hope that, in some small way, your presence had made a difference, even if it was not the kind you had hoped for.

When the servants cleared away the dishes and the room began to empty, you excused yourself, retreating to your chamber with a heavy heart. You knew that your time here was growing shorter, that the end was approaching with each passing day. But for now, you would carry on, finding what small measure of peace you could in the fleeting moments you had left.

And as you lay down in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, you could not help but think of the blood you had tried to hide, of the way Sukuna’s eyes had lingered on it. You could only hope that someday, he might see you not as a mere shadow or a reminder of what he had lost, but as a person who had tried, in her own way, to make a difference in his world.

The next morning, you awoke to a disorienting cacophony of shouts and harsh reprimands. The once-familiar silence of your quarters was shattered by the sounds of chaos from the courtyard. Your heart sank as you stumbled out of bed, a sharp pain reminding you of the night before.

As you made your way through the hallways, the noise grew louder, mingling with the harsh, angry tones of Ryomen Sukuna’s voice. Your mind raced, dreading what you might find. You knew it already. You have seen it in the other households of the other concubines. And you can only know what had caused such a commotion. When you reached the courtyard, the scene before you was both startling and terrifying.

Your servants were gathered in the center of the courtyard, their faces pale with fear and their postures crumpled under the weight of Sukuna’s wrath. He stood at the center of the commotion, his expression thunderous as he raged at them. His anger was palpable, his words a relentless storm of fury directed at those who had failed to inform him of your condition.

Your breath caught in your throat, and without thinking, you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest. The courtyard fell into a stunned silence as Sukuna’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and irritation.

"My lord, please." you began, your voice trembling as you bowed deeply, your forehead nearly touching the ground. "This is my fault, not theirs. I beg for your forgiveness and mercy for my servants."

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed as he took in your contrite posture, his anger momentarily faltering. He regarded you with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity, his dark, unforgiving, gaze sharp as he assessed your sincerity.

"It was my decision to hide my illness, my lord." you continued, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I did not want to trouble you or cause unnecessary concern. Please, spare them your anger. They were only following my wishes."

Ryomen Sukuna remained silent for a moment, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. The servants, though still shaken, dared to lift their eyes to you, their expressions a blend of relief and apprehension.

Finally, Sukuna's gaze softened, a hint of resignation creeping into his expression. He took a deep breath, his anger dissipating as he looked at you with a new intensity. "You would take the blame for them?" he asked, his voice low and edged with incredulity.

You nodded, maintaining your bowed position. "Yes, my lord. It was my choice, my responsibility. I could not bear the thought of them being punished for my actions."

Sukuna’s expression hardened slightly, but the fury in his eyes had dimmed. After a moment of consideration, he gave a curt nod. "Very well. You will accept any punishment I shall put upon you.”

You swallowed the bile down your throat. “Yes, my lord.”

“Then I will call for healers. You will see them immediately." He says, as though it was the final verdict. “You will see them, all of them. Do you understand?”

“Yes…yes, my lord.” You whispered back to him.

He turned away from the servants, his gaze now fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity. "Go." he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "See to your health, you foolish girl. Your servants too can go. They will tend to you, no matter what you ask.”

You straightened slowly, a mixture of relief and trepidation washing over you. You dared to look up at Sukuna, meeting his eyes briefly before turning to address the servants.

"Thank you, my lord." you said quietly, your voice filled with gratitude. "You have done nothing wrong. Please, return to your duties."

With a final, respectful bow, you turned and headed back toward your quarters with the help of your servants. As you entered your quarters, you felt like you had lived a thousand lifetimes in that one moment. Your servants were bowing at your feet, asking for your forgiveness. But you had all but shooed them away, telling them it was your duty as their master.

You wanted to be alone right now. At least when you still had the chance. When the healers arrive, you would have a life to yourself any longer. You would be stuck in their mercy, with their potions and their whims.

You must prepare yourself for the arrival of the healers. You groaned lowly as you clutch your chest, a wave of pain hitting one after the other. It will be over soon, that’s what you hoped. That’s what you want. You want to be free from this pain. You wanted nothing more than to be free.

══════════════════

THE PAIN WAS RELENTLESS. The days dragged on in a relentless cycle of pain and futile hope. Despite the best efforts of countless healers, none seemed able to bring you any real relief.

If anything, your condition worsened, each new treatment only seeming to accelerate your quick decline. Ryomen Sukuna’s frustration was palpable; his anger had become a regular presence, casting a long shadow over the already bleak atmosphere of the estate.

You had heard the whispers of the fate that befell each healer who failed to improve your condition. It was a grim reminder of Sukuna’s volatility, a dangerous mix of desperation and rage. The once-bustling quarters were now filled with an air of fearful tension as new healers arrived, only to face Sukuna’s wrath when their efforts proved ineffectual.

On one of the rare days when you felt well enough to leave your bed, you chose to sit by the garden. The fresh air and the sight of the vibrant blooms were a welcome distraction from the constant ache in your body. You had managed to position yourself on a stool under the gentle shade of a cherry tree, finding some small comfort in watching the birds flit about, their cheerful chirping a stark contrast to the turmoil that had become your life.

Sukuna appeared in the garden, his presence as imposing as ever. He walked with a deliberate pace, his gaze scanning the surroundings with an air of detached observation. As he neared, you looked up and greeted him with a smile, though the effort felt heavy, as if each movement was a strain against the burden of your illness.

“My lord.” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “The skies are beautiful today, aren’t they?”

Sukuna stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your serene expression. The silence stretched between you, an unspoken tension that lingered like the heat of a summer day. He said nothing in response, his gaze fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity.

After a moment, he broke the silence. “How is it that you can accept death with such… calm?” His voice was low, edged with curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You blinked, taken aback by his question. A laugh escaped you, soft and brittle, more out of surprise than genuine amusement. “Accept death, my lord?” you repeated. “I haven’t accepted death, in truth. But there is no way to avoid it.”

Sukuna’s eyes remained on you, his expression unreadable as he listened. You continued, your voice tinged with a philosophical resignation. “Death will come for all of us, eventually. It’s a natural end to this life. We all must face it in our own time. In that way, we are all freed from the burdens of this world.”

He studied you with a mixture of skepticism and something akin to contemplation. “You speak as if it is an inevitability you embrace, little one.”

“Not embrace, my lord.” you corrected gently, sighing. “But acknowledge. It’s a part of life, as much as the beginning is. We can fight it or we can accept it, but it will come regardless.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained stoic. He seemed to be weighing your words, his usual fierceness replaced by an unusual quiet. “And you are not afraid, then?”

“Fear?” You tilted your head, considering the question. “I suppose I am afraid of the pain that might come before the end. But fear of death itself? Not so much. It’s merely another step in the journey, my lord. That is what I believe, at least.”

For a moment, there was a stillness between you, punctuated only by the distant chirping of birds. Sukuna’s eyes flickered to the sky, perhaps contemplating the vastness of existence you had spoken of. The anger that had once seemed so consuming in his presence now appeared subdued, replaced by a contemplative silence.

“I see.” he said finally, his tone carrying a trace of grudging respect. “Your words are… unusual.”

You smiled faintly, a tired but genuine expression. “Perhaps. But sometimes, facing the truth can be a way to find peace, my lord.”

Sukuna stood there for a while longer, his presence a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the garden’s tranquility. Finally, he gave a curt nod and turned to leave, his demeanor less harsh than before. The sound of his footsteps gradually faded as he walked away, leaving you alone once more with your thoughts and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

As you sat there, watching the birds and the shifting clouds, you felt a small measure of contentment. Sukuna’s visit had brought a moment of introspection, a reminder of the fragile balance between life and death. Even in your suffering, you found a semblance of peace, understanding that acceptance was not about surrendering to fate but about finding a way to live with it, even as the end loomed ever closer.

And just like that, the day you had dreaded finally arrived. And truly, you were left feeling an unbearable weakness that signaled the end was near. The once-familiar confines of your quarters now seemed like a distant world, and the pain of your illness was a constant, gnawing presence. Each breath was a struggle, each moment of consciousness a battle against the encroaching darkness.

To your surprise, your lord Sukuna appeared by your side as you lay on your bed, his imposing figure contrasting sharply with the fragility of your own condition. He had not been a part of your daily existence in the past weeks, his visits sporadic and his presence usually marked by anger and frustration. But now, he was here, seated beside you in a rare display of stillness.

You looked at him through the haze of pain and weakness, your voice a mere whisper. “My lord, it seems this is my time to part from you.”

Sukuna’s eyes were steady, his gaze betraying an emotion you could not fully decipher. “I know, little one.” he replied simply, his voice holding a note of finality.

A pained laugh escaped your lips, the sound mingling with a shuddering breath. “I only wish… I could avoid being reborn into such misery again. To be the other woman, to be nothing to you.”

Sukuna’s silence stretched between you, a weighty pause that seemed to deepen the divide between you. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You were something.”

You shook your head, the effort to move even slightly causing a fresh wave of agony. “You lie easily, as you breathe, my lord.” you said with a faint, sorrowful smile.

The silence that followed was heavy and palpable, filled with the unspoken complexities of your relationship. As you lay there, the end drawing closer with each passing moment, you found a strange clarity in the finality of your situation.

“I love you, my lord.” you said softly, the words carrying a weight that transcended the physical pain. “As sad as it is, I do. But I have no intention of having it returned. I hope that, in the next life, I never meet you again.”

Sukuna’s expression remained impassive, but there was a softness in his gaze that belied his usual stoic demeanor. As you took your final, labored breaths, his sigh was a mix of resignation and something deeper, something that spoke to the complexity of your intertwined fates.

“I hope so too, little one.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a rare touch of vulnerability.

With those words hanging in the air, you felt a sense of release, the weight of your suffering beginning to lift. As your consciousness faded and the pain finally ebbed away, you left behind the world that had been both your prison and your refuge. Ryomen Sukuna looked at your lifeless body, pursing his lips into a flat line.

“Live on in a better life, little one.” He whispered, his fingers brushing against your hair. “May you be loved by someone who loves you. May we never meet again, my other woman."

[mcu-coworkers]

Enough for you

Summary: You realized that maybe Miguel isn't who you thought he was.

Word count:1k+

warnings: Sad reader, Sad Miguel:(

Tag list: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld  @munixumai  @deputy-videogamer  @blueberry-thrawn  @neteyamsluvts  @um-well @stinygirl009​  @marcswife21 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum​  @juleshadalittlelamb​  @taygrls​  @tanchosanke​  @chuckle-nuts​

A/n: Hello everyone and welcome to part two of “you?” I will most positively be making a part three coming very soon! Thank you all for reading! (I listened to the sour album while writing this series rough drafts)

Parts: One  Two^ Three Four

Credits to the creator^

That night you cried yourself to sleep.

Partially because Miguel completely shot you down and partially because you left your friends and suit forever.

You couldn't bear to bring back the suit or go back to HQ knowing what you knew.

You could never face Miguel or any spider again.

You wanted to so desperately let it all go and forget.

But above all else there was a city that needed you and you’d always be there for them no matter what heartbreak comes your way.

In this moment, you wished you were as heartless as miguel.

Back at HQ Miguel was looking through endless security footage on all possible earths miles could have been on.

Truth was he needed a second pair of eyes.

“Lyla.” he barked out.

“Yes, boss.” she responded, appearing on his shoulder.

“Call y/n.” he said, pausing the footage to rub his eyes.

He could take advantage of this time to apologize.

“No can do.” she replied being short with him. To be fully honest Lyla had also had enough of his shit.

“What? Lyla it wasn't a question go get me Y/n. Now.” he said, not having the energy to deal with her jokes.

“No. Miguel, you don’t-” she tried again but he cut her off.

“Fine.  I  ‘ll go get her my fucking self.” he said swinging towards the door.

“She's gone, Miguel. And it's all your fault.” Lyla said behind him.

He froze,“What?” finding your watch and your suit he stopped thinking.

“She quit. Not just the spider society, she quit being a spider entirely. Because of what you said.” Lyla finished.

“ I   didnt-  I   didnt mean it..” he said, clutching your suit in his hand.

“Well you said it anyway and it hurt her.” She responded, “And if  I   were her  I‘d probably never come back too, she deserved better Miguel. Why did you lie?” she asked confused as to why he denied himself the chance of love.

“ I   was angry  I   wasn’t thinking straight.  I  didn’t mean it.” he said barely above a whisper.

“Yeah well you sold it as far as keeping up an act goes.” she said, sighing.

Miguel could always fix his mistakes. This would be a first.

Sighing he stood straight and turned back to his desk.

Miguel had a decision to make, you or the fate of the multiverse.

It's like he said, there's no room for that kind of stuff for guys like him.

Once again he was right.

“Get Ben and Jess in here and have them start with earth 42.” he said, sounding more defeated than ever.

Still, he was clutching your suit as if you were still in it. Your scent lingering.

“Yes, boss.” was all Lyla could muster up at the moment.

Her artificial heart was breaking for the both of you. He was so close to telling you she could feel it.

It just wasn't his strongest moment.

Neither was this one as he took out his anger on the poor monitor that happened to be in his way.

Back at home you laid in bed trying to find the motivation to get back up but the truth was you didn't want to.

Everytime you tried to create a new suit you just heard Miguel's abusive words like it was the first time all over again.

And it just made you want to hide under the blankets forever.

Your spidey senses went off and then there came the portal.

You knew it wasn't Miguel, he could never.

“Hey webby? You alright in there?” you heard.

Peter.

Taking the covers off you came face to face with an exhausted Peter and a sleeping May Day.

“Heard what happened at HQ  just wanted to check in if that's okay.” he added wondering if he could take a step closer.

“ I   really screwed it up this time pete.” you said wiping the tears away for the millionth time.

God you felt pathetic.

“No way kid, that was all him. You know that right.” he said sitting next to you.

“ I   should’ve been there. But even if  I   was, I don't know if  I‘d be on his side. Miles is just a kid, We’ve all been there right?” you asked. Thinking this way makes you feel guilty.

You should stand behind Miguel at all times.

But now what did it matter you’d never step foot in HQ ever again anyways.

“You're allowed to think whatever you want. He can't take that from you.” Peter reassured me.

He was right.

“You think you’ll ever come back?” he asked, he almost entirely knew the answer but he still held out hope for you.

“ I   don't think so Pete,  I‘m sorry.” you said looking down in shame.

The reality was you could never face him again.

“Don’t be  I   wouldn't stand for that either  I  ‘m pretty sure a lot of us are done for too anyways but listen, you’re never going to be alone.” he said putting a hand on your shoulder.

“If you ever decide to come back not just as spider woman, but to the society, just know you have people in your corner.” he said, giving you a warm smile.

“Thanks pete.” you said as he stood opening a portal.

“Hey pete?” you called out.

Turning back to you he waited for you to continue.

“Don’t ever stop sending me Pictures of May Day. I need my daily serotonin boost.” you said with a soft smile earning yourself a chuckle in return.

“Never kid.” he said as he walked his way into the portal.

A soon as he was gone you went back under the covers and took a deep breath.

Peeking your head out from under the cover you looked at the picture you had framed on your wall.

It was of you receiving the key to the city.

Your city, the one you saved day and night.

Whenever it called for you.

You earned that key the same way you earned the title of spider-woman.

And you weren’t gonna let some words take that from you.

Wiping the fresh tears away you got out of bed putting Miguel's words in the back of your head and got to designing.

You were bigger than his words and you’d prove it.

In that moment you promised you’d make him regret ever  making you feel like you’re not good enough.

One day he’s gonna feel sorry for himself.

And one day you’ll be everything to somebody else.

And he’ll be the one who's crying.

Yeah, one day.

*If you’d like to be added to the tagslist just let me know I am more than happy to :)

[bbina]

alone together ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . take a hit

── taking comfort in the thought that you are together in aloneness through late night talks, heartfelt confessions, and a genuine connection. with your shared experience of recent heartbreaks, you wonder if getting together would be all worth it. in which you find solace in each other's company, that you are alone together.

⋆｡˚ prev | next ˚｡

꩜ notes .ᐟ 5k words! wow! i'm having so much fun making this story yall idk if yall are on the same wavelength as me but i fear this may dethrone btl sometime around..

꩜ taglist .ᐟ @onlywonb @rosesfortaro @starwonb1n @wonychu @totheseok @dolloie @hyunjinsnumberonefun @binluvsu @onlyhyunjin @annswwa @wonbinsvlle @hakkkuu @ilovejungwonandhaechan @artstaeh @lecheugo @odxrilove @bunni @saranghoeforanton @nujeskz @nakam00t @kyusqult @nctsshoes2 @revehosh @s9nwoo @daegale @palchokitty @dutifullyannoyingfox @oshakyao @koryutte @b-riize @meowbini @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @winuvs @i03jae @rsatoru @enhacolor @dalliesque @sweetiejaeyun @dearestjake @cupidslovearrows @sasfransisco @kkumistars @sngj08 @taroddori @istglevi-gotmesimping @ennycutie @ffixtionista @koeuh @astro-doll-the-star @amouriu

"ready to go?" seunghan chirps the moment you open your door. rolling your eyes, you wave him off. locking your dorm before you leave

"ready as i'll ever be i guess.." you murmured, jiggling the doorknob for safe measure. seunghan laughs and walks on ahead

"where is this party anyway?" you ask, grabbing your phone from the pocket of your jeans, checking if you had any notifications but only to be met with the clock that reads 9:04 PM staring right back at you

before seunghan could answer, his phone starts ringing. he holds a finger up, motioning you to wait as he answers his phone

"hello? yeah we're on our way" you hear him say to the phone. it must be his friends looking for him "we? i'm with y/n right now" he continues, looking back at you and shooting a smile

you make a face at seunghan for even mentioning your name to his friends. they probably don't even know who you are minus wonbin who you've already met

"we're literally just across the street so hold the shots til we're there. see you sohee bye!" seunghan cuts sohee off on the phone and abruptly ends the call

"it's the guys. they're looking for us. let's go!" seunghan hums, grabbing your arm and hauling your ass out of your dorm building so that you two could finally go to this damned party

you were starting to think coming to this party might’ve been a mistake…

. . . ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

when seunghan said on the phone that you two were across the street, you didn't think of the fact that the party would be held at wonbin's building

now that you think about it, you didn't question wonbin's message earlier when he mentioned "our rooftop"

"FINALLY YOU'RE HERE" sohee yells out at the exact moment him and seunghan made eye contact. he makes his way through the sea of people on the rooftop to meet with you and seunghan

"and who is this?" you hear sohee ask after dapping seunghan up

seunghan clears his throat, ready to give you another dramatic introduction to one of his friends but not today seunghan, not today

"i'm y/n. i'm seunghan's friend" you introduce yourself to sohee, waving a little

sohee quickly takes a good look at you before it all clicks in his head

"oh! you're the girl who slapped seunghan the other day right? it's so nice to finally meet you! i'm sohee!" sohee beams, shaking your hand

you were a little taken a back by his description on how he knew you by but nonetheless you eagerly shake his hand back

sohee suddenly clasps his hands together, catching both of you and seunghan's attention

"the guys have been waiting for you seunghan, so let me take you to them" sohee chirps, turning around and walking ahead further into the sea of people

you feel seunghan's hand push your back as he follows sohee, "c'mon. we don't want to get lost" seunghan says loud enough for you to hear over the sound of the music that's playing loudly on the rooftop

there were a lot of people like you initially expected. sungchan is a well known guy in campus, so no doubt people wouldn't want to miss his party, let alone his birthday

you take a look around your surroundings filled with familiar and unfamiliar peers. you could recognize some people in some classes you've shared in the past but you mostly kept to yourself. the only friends you made during freshman year was giselle, karina and seunghan with the exception of minjeong and ningning

your little train of thought gets interrupted when you hear someone yell out seunghan's name

"seunghan! over here!" someone yells. seunghan's head perks up and follows the sound of the voice

"eunseok hyung!" seunghan waves, finally spotting him near the improvised dj booth

you follow the direction where seunghan was waving at and there you see the rest of seunghan's friends. though you only recognize one of them which was anton

seunghan ushers you first when you two arrive to the spot where his friends were chilling at

"guys! this is y/n! y/n, meet the guys! that's eunseok, shotaro, anton, and the birthday boy, sungchan" seunghan introduces you and the guys. "there's sohee again you just met him seven seconds ago" he adds, causing sohee to smack him

you wave shyly at the 4 boys before you. even mustering a little "happy birthday" to sungchan, to which he thanks you and tells you to enjoy the night

you've heard of their little circle thanks to seunghan. you knew that wonbin was part of their group but at the moment, he was no where in sight. you pull your hand into the pocket of your jeans to feel wonbin's pen that you have to return

he did say to give it back during this party so you had a reason to go. so where was he?

though it seemed like seunghan read your mind since he was also looking around for wonbin

"where's wonbin hyung?" seunghan asks, looking around

"he was just here a second ago with sion" shotaro says, recalling that wonbin told him that he'd be with sion throughout the night if he needed him

"oh sion's here?! so yushi and riku might be around!" seunghan says all excitedly

on the contrary of his excitement, you were beginning to feel a little nervous at his excitement to meet his other friends. your fear of being left alone by seunghan alongside his friends is starting to ensure

amidst your internal panic, you feel a hand on your shoulder. you jolt, looking up at the person who just held your shoulder. there you see sungchan with a smile on his face, seemingly offering you a drink

"relax! enjoy the night! here's a drink to ease yourself up!" sungchan smiles, handing you a party cup. you awkwardly accept the cup and sip on it a little to show at least some appreciation from the party host for his hospitality

"how about we do shots together as a little ice breaker?" anton proposes, sensing the impending awkwardness filling in the air. after all, it was everyone's first time meeting. at a party at that

the group chorus a yes and they all pass their own cups before getting it filled with drinks

"everyone ready?" shotaro asks, eyeing down everyone's hands that held the drinks

"three.. two.. on-"

"taking shots without me?" wonbin suddenly appears out of no where

eunseok gets cut off by wonbin making his grand entrance. your eyes widened in surprise as you make eye contact with him. although wonbin doesn't express it, he too was surprised at your presence

he didn't think you'd actually go

"wonbin hyung!"

wonbin's little trance gets cut off by seunghan who daps him up and asking him where he was

"i was with sion but i lost him again back there" wonbin laughs, "where's my cup and why are we doing shots?" he looks around seeing everyone (including you) had their own

"just a little ice breaker since we've just formally met seunghan's friend, y/n" sohee says, nodding his head towards your direction

anton, thinking that you two haven't met before, decides to introduce you to wonbin

"so uh y/n! this is wonbin the last member of our little circle. wonbin this is y/n" anton kindly introduces you to the guy you've already met

you let out a little chuckle at the mere thought of the fact that this was probably the third time wonbin has been formally introduced to you. it's kinda funny now that you think about

before you can say anything though, wonbin beats you to it

"we've already met" wonbin says cooly, accepting the cup shotaro gives him

all the guys (minus you and seunghan) look at him weirdly, he met you when?

"they met each other yesterday" seunghan brings up, suddenly laughing at the memory of wonbin being sulky to the guys

you then make eye contact with wonbin again. even smiling a little when you two lock eyes. he may not have said it out loud but you knew what he was thinking with his eyes alone, 'if only they knew'

"let's take shots now i want to party!" sungchan suddenly says, raising his cup up in the air. the rest of you quickly follow suit.

"cheers!" everyone chants before clinking the cups against each other

well, that's one way to start the night...

. . . ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

just like you predicted, throughout the night, seunghan has left you alone

though seunghan's friends were nice enough to talk to you for the first few hours of the night. you got to know them quite well and even exchanged instagrams so you could all keep in touch. who knew seunghan had such funny friends?

but it's not like he meant to do it. seunghan somehow saw his friend soobin amongst the sea of people and decided to hang out with him for a while (with your permission of course)

before he left, he tells you that soobin was the guy he tried setting you up with back then at the club on the first night of your break up. hearing such thing, you smacked seunghan in the chest and apologized to soobin personally for the way you acted that night

to which soobin promptly understood where you were coming from and tells you it was alright and it was quite funny to experience it (you never wanted to die in a hole and kill seunghan on the spot for letting you go through that)

in the end soobin ended up giving you his instagram for funsies. guess you just scored another mutual friend from seunghan on your phone

now here you were, backed up on the rooftop terrace, just watching people mingle with each other, swirling your half empty cup filled with some mixed liquor

you look at everyone on the dance floor all mingling around, seemingly having the time of their lives as they live all carefree. you then get a wave of nostalgia, reminiscing the days where it was you on that dance floor talking to everyone

what even happened?

"what's a pretty girl doing back here all alone?" a familiar voice speaks

rolling your eyes, you turn your head to the side and there you see wonbin with a shit eating grin on his face. somehow wonbin just had a knack of catching you in not so pretty moments. moments like you're alone, going through something, or maybe even both

"very funny haha" you mock, drinking the rest of your drink before putting the cup on the table nearby, "i'm "partying"" you quote

wonbin chortles, totally not expecting that response from you

"seriously though, why are you just alone back here? where's seunghan?" wonbin looks around for your buddy that's no where to be found

"he's with his own friends. he asked permission though if it's okay if they could hang for a bit and who am i to say no? so now i'm here" you say, leaning back on the railings behind you

wonbin hums in acknowledgment. seems fair, it was a party after all

with nothing else going on, he takes it upon himself to hang out with you instead of checking up on the other guests. he then stands beside you, now joining you on people watching

"... uh what are you doing?" you ask, a little flustered that he's suddenly beside you

"chilling" he answers smoothly, "why? don't want me here?" he raises a brow, looking down at you

there's a slight edge on his tone of voice that you aren't too sure if he was serious or fucking around

"o-obviously it's fine! i'm just wondering!" you squeaked, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks in sheer embarrassment. you were on their turf so there was no room to be all bitchy

wonbin laughs at your reaction. who knew it was this easy to make you all flustered

with the way wonbin is acting, you can't help but start to wonder why all this just seems comfortable between the two of you. you haven't been friends with him for a long time for him to be acting like this, the same way seunghan acts with you, but somehow you're okay with it

if it was someone else you wouldn't even spare them a chance. easily shutting them out and telling them to fuck off.

but with wonbin, you just can't help but let him do it. you don't really understand why either. was it the shared experiences? the coincidental late night shenanigans that have occurred twice in a row now?

maybe there was something about him that you unknowingly long for. a sense of calm before the storm

are you looking into it too much? was this the lack of emotional connection that you've been yearning for that you didn't receive in your previous relationships?

halfway through your little trance, you suddenly remembered half of the main reason why you even attended this party. which was to return wonbin's vape

you fish out wonbin's device from your pockets and wordlessly hand it over to him by waving it in front of his face

"woah you really brought it back" he says in amusement, taking a good look at it, "haven't had a hit all day and i was getting a little hangry without it"

"hangry?" you repeat, stifling in your giggle

wonbin scoffs lightly, "you know what i mean" he says, poking the side of your head

"wow" you react, in disbelief with what he just did. did he really just poke the side of your head like you two were chill like that?

wonbin grins at your reaction, obviously having fun with teasing you. he can't tell if it's the alcohol in his system that's making him do this but whatever it was, he feels comfortable and is having the time of his life teasing the hell out of you

"fuck you wonbin" you curse, flipping him off, "i'm gonna need a drink for dealing with you" you breathe out, now grabbing your cup from the nearby table you placed it on

wonbin laughs loudly before motioning you to come with him

"okay let's get some drinks"

with that, you follow wonbin to wherever the drinks were at. you're gonna have to need some if you want to last throughout the night...

. . . ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

it's safe to say that you've lost seunghan now that you're being accompanied by wonbin instead. seunghan did mention to live a little, so here you were, in some party, at the abandoned construction site behind the main rooftop entrance, drinking with wonbin

"i don't usually bring people here cause this is where i sit with my thoughts but tonight's an exception" wonbin says, showing you the view below his building complex

you leaned over the unfinished railings to look at the bustling city. the wind here was cool and breezy. but what takes the cake of this secret spot of his is that the view below is beautiful

"hey careful. this shit's still unfinished" wonbin blurts, grabbing onto your arm, pulling you back a little. you must've stumbled over some concrete blocks causing yourself to lose balance

you let out a small yelp, closing your eyes and bracing for the impact but it never happens. instead you were met with a plush chest and arms around your frame

peeking an eye open, the first thing you see is a red flannel and some necklaces slightly dangling over your face

"i told you to be careful" wonbin grumbles, releasing his grip around you once you stabilized yourself

"i was! you didn't have to pull me back harshly when you knew there were concrete blocks lying around!" you retort, moving away slightly from wonbin. again, you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. you have to stop embarrassing yourself like this

wonbin could only laugh at your embarrassed state. he then tells you to follow him again. this time he'll take you to a more safe spot around this abandoned construction site. a place where there were finished rooftop railings so he could ensure your safety since you two were drinking after all

now you find yourselves near an emergency exit

"this is place is a tad bit safer for your clumsy ass" wonbin comments, setting down a bottle of liquor on the ground

you gasp at his comment, putting a hand over your chest

"i am not clumsy!" you defend yourself

"yeah yeah, go tell that to yourself after almost tripping over" wonbin mocks the tone of your voice, smirking at your reaction

deciding this wasn't worth fighting over, you grab the bottle of liquor and pour yourself some and gulp it one go

wonbin makes a gesture that he wants some too but instead of pouring him a drink, you blatantly hand him the bottle so he could pour himself. wonbin scoffs in disbelief and snatches the bottle off your hands while you snicker to yourself

there's a blanket of silence after that. the only sounds you could hear were the cars on the road and the buildings that were still lively at this hour of the night but somehow it's comforting

wonbin was the first one to break the silence

"so how's the party so far" wonbin asks, swirling his cup around

you let out a hum, leaning over the railing as you watch cars pass and go. the night was still relatively young and who knows if you wanted to go home now

"it's okay i guess" you breathe, stealing a glance at wonbin before looking back at the city below. "a little boring but that's on me for not mingling around" you joke

"you want to meet new people?" wonbin questions, taking in your answer

"eh no" you brush him off, "i'm not the type to make friends easily"

"i can tell" wonbin blurts. instantly, you glared at the boy beside you, "what? i'm just saying! it's hard to read you" he claims

you raise a brow at him, "and why would you try and read me?"

"to assess if my judgements are right? i don't know"

"weird answer for a weirdo like you" you counter

wonbin lets out a gasp, "now i'm the weirdo", he points to himself as you chuckle. he rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his drink

"but serious question, what exactly were you expecting tonight?" he asks

good question, you thought to yourself. what were you expecting when you wanted to go earlier? did you want to have some fun? mingle around? find someone to talk to? what exactly did you want out of this?

it's easy to answer 'to have fun!' because frankly, that's why people party in the first place. to have fun. but recalling how the night went on earlier, you were attached to seunghan by the hip. never leaving his side. meeting his friends and sticking with them throughout the night was one thing but did you genuinely have fun?

maybe it really was a mistake going to this party

"to be honest, i don't know" you answer truthfully. "i imagined myself having the time of my life but being here now just feels like i lost that part of me for a long time now" you admit

"but i'm trying. i've been going to classes again, trying new things to at least get that part of me back but i don't know. it feels like i threw myself out and now i'm all lost" you say

a lost cause is what you wanted to say but you didn't want wonbin's pity. hell, you don't want anyone's pity. it's true in a sense that you did lose your sense of self during the duration of your past relationship. it was always him above anything else from yourself. now that you're alone, it now feels like you had no true desire in life

wonbin pushes himself off the ground and stands next to you, leaning back on the railing

"you know, talking to you almost seems like talking to a walking reflection of myself" wonbin comments, taking a deep breath and avoids eye contact

you scoff, "the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"it's a good thing. at least to me" wonbin takes a hit off his vape. he then offers you the device, "want some? looks like you need it" he jokes

you elbow him but take the device nevertheless. wonbin laughs at your not so violent reaction and watches you take a hit, slowly exhaling the smoke out

"if you could change one decision you've made in the past, what would it be?" wonbin asks, finding a way to have small talk

"say no to that one dating proposal" you answer a little too quickly

"damn. you really hated your last relationship, huh?" wonbin reacts. he finds it a little hilarious, he's not gonna lie. though he knows some bits and pieces of your previous relationship thanks to those late night talks you've been having, still he finds it quite funny

"it's hard not to. how about you then? what do you think makes a relationship work out?" this time it was your turn to ask him

from what you've gathered from the time you two have been talking (including that fateful night where you two first met at the same convenience store), you know that he was the one who held on the longest til his ex left him

wonbin sighs, now it was his turn to be put on the spotlight

"i'd say it works if the guy is more in love than the girl" he shrugs. in his defense, it was based from personal experience. he did love his girl more than the girl loved him

you let out a hum at his answer. "i agree" you laugh a little

"well as you know, i was definitely more in love with my ex than he was with me. i was always the one chasing after him despite him being in the wrong sometimes. who knew that shit could burn you out in the long run?" you rant, furrowing your eyebrows together. your eyes then widened when you realized that you're sharing a little too much again. you immediately take a look at wonbin for a brief second to see him looking back at you with an expression you couldn't read. so you poke your tongue out to at least maintain the calm atmosphere without your little rant ruining it

wonbin suddenly looks up at the night sky, "it does get tiring, i'll tell you that" wonbin hums before hanging his head low, "but if you really love them, even if it's tiring, you'd still find a way to make things work"

all of a sudden wonbin chuckles bitterly

"although, sometimes your best is still never enough for them" he murmurs

there's silence after that. he hit that right on the dot. even when you did all you could to at least save your dying relationship, the end was inevitable. after what you went through, you started to isolate yourself from the fleeting feeling of love. to you, love deserves no second chances after giving it your all only to be paid in dust in return

for wonbin, he vows to himself that he will never love another person the way he loved his ex. he now has guarded himself from any potential harm to his state of mind. he can't even say if he's moved on completely because sometimes reminiscing the good ol' days gets to the best of him

does wonbin reflect on it? no. does he regret it? maybe. does he feel bad for regretting it? definitely.

it seems like wonbin has been too engrossed with his thoughts that you had to wave a hand over his face

"wha-" wonbin blurts out, shaking his head to bring himself back to earth

"i said take a hit" you pass him his vape device. now what happens next is not what you expected. you expected him to take the device itself and take a puff

what he does is he wraps his hand around yours and takes a hit off the device with you holding it

maybe it was the buzz of the liquor starting to catch up to you but you swear you felt a jolt of electricity run through your veins the moment his hand cups around yours

it seems like you two froze into place for what seems like an eternity. just looking at each other's eyes while his hand remained wrapped around yours (that was holding onto his device) though, the sound of your phone ringing breaks the little trance between you and wonbin

you instantly reach for your arm back, rummaging through your pockets to find your phone in panic after being brought back to reality

wonbin lets out a chuckle after witnessing you almost dropping your phone when you fished it out of your pockets. without reading the caller id, you swiped left and answered the call

"hello?!" you scream onto the phone unintentionally. you look at wonbin for a second while you wait for the person on the line to reply back

wonbin then reaches for your hand again but this time he takes his device off your hands. you watch him take another long hit before exhaling it over the railing

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" the other line screams back. you pull back the phone as you wince from the volume of their voice. it was seunghan

"oh so you finally remembered me?" you sass, mouthing "it's seunghan" to wonbin who nods and continues to do his own thing

"hey c'mon! it's not all the time i see soobin around. so where are you? did you go home?" seunghan asks over the phone. you take another look at wonbin who was now watching the city below

"no i'm still at the party. just mingling around and shit" you tell seunghan on the phone. well, it's not a lie, nor is it the truth either. you just didn't want to tell him just yet that you were just hanging out with wonbin all this time

"see i told you you'd enjoy yourself! i'm happy you came along. so anyway have you seen wonbin? shotaro's looking for him" seunghan says. your eyes widened, did wonbin deadass just accompany you for no reason at all? he really left all his friends hanging?

"wonbin? no i haven't seen him" you lie, looking at wonbin who just turned around after hearing his name

"oh okay maybe his social battery ran out" seunghan laughs, "i'll meet you back at the dj booth. bye" and with that, seunghan ends the call

wonbin pushes himself off the railing and looks at you before asking what was that about

"seunghan says shotaro has been looking for you" you tell him. wonbin suddenly stretches his arms and rolling his eyes

"of course he is. he can't live without me" he jokes, now putting his arms behind his head. "let's go back?"

"yeah. seunghan's looking for me too" you say, pocketing your phone and picking up your cup from the ground. wonbin follows suit and grabs the bottle you two have been drinking

"should i go out first and then you follow a little later so it's not a little suspicious that we were together?" you hear wonbin ask behind you as you navigate through the abandoned construction site safely

it never really occurred to you that you two had a silent agreement to not let anyone know that you two have been hanging out together nor did the latter even mention about it

strangely enough, you'd like to keep it that way

"yeah so they won't get any ideas. weird how i was just thinking about asking you that" you giggle, looking back at wonbin who was making sure he wasn't stepping on anything he shouldn't be stepping on

"maybe great minds think a like" wonbin laughs at his own joke making you smile but he doesn't see it

you can hear the music getting louder and louder the nearer you two get to the party. you stop by the entrance to the rooftop and take a peek at the corner to check if there was anyone around

"go" you usher wonbin, now that the coast was clear. you can feel his presence behind you. he also peers over to check just in case

"how about you?" he asks

"i'll follow after a bit. just make sure no one's looking when you walk in" you say, slightly pushing him so that he can get a move on

even if his hands were full, he puts them up in mock surrender, "okay"

with that, wonbin takes a look around before seamlessly walking back into the party like he didn't just disappear for who knows how long

now you were waiting for the perfect time to walk back, making sure that you didn't just follow wonbin or whatever. in case there were eyes looking around and all that

and by the time you know it you're back into the party. loud music and people's chatters ringing in your ears. you find yourself carefully walking back to the dj booth where seunghan asked you to meet him at

"where have you been!" was the first thing seunghan says after spotting you making your way our of the crowd. you wave him off, "living life" you smile faintly

"i'm so happy for you bestie! finally living the life you were stripped off!" seunghan dramatically cries, wrapping an arm around your shoulders

you didn't notice but wonbin was nearby with shotaro, eunseok and sungchan. he was looking at the way seunghan was all coddled up on you. he can't help but smile in amusement when he catches you elbowing seunghan in the stomach causing him to release you from his grip and clutching his stomach

"so where were you?" wonbin hears shotaro ask over the music

"places" he answers shortly, pouring himself another cup of liquor

"well it's nice to see yourself finally enjoying life again" eunseok comments, clinking his cup with wonbin's. sungchan agrees and takes note that this was the wonbin they've been missing for a while now

"yep. finally" wonbin breathes out, drinking from his cup

he's not really sure but something in him tells that maybe you had something to do with how he views life these days

his eyes trail towards you and seunghan again. this time you two were drinking together. somehow, someway you meet his eyes again. you slightly raise your cup towards his direction before drinking and looking away

wonbin couldn't help but feel something in his chest. he also raises his cup but you didn't see it. not that it matters anyway. but one thing is sure though, its that wonbin is sure that you are someone who he wants around in his life

[koishua]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐋 — cyj.

━━━━━━ 𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗜 𝗬𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗝𝗨𝗡 | 0.962k words. heavy angst, semi fluff ending. fear of abandonment. themes of lacking self worth.

━━━━━━ burned and hurt before, yeonjun had decided to break up with you and save himself from the pain he believed would inevitably come (as it always does), only to be welcomed again in a feat of unconditional love. (heavily inspire by the smile has left your eyes!)

! © 𝗞𝗢𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗨𝗔 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰, 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗩𝗘𝗗. reblog/feedback <3

when the birds cease their serenade, time begins to slow down. seconds trickle down the glass in individual grains of sand, one by one when he locks eyes with the painting of heartbreak he'd left behind. when the subject of his dreams (when you—) look at him through the curtain of your lashes, darkened and damp, yeonjun wishes he dies a slow and agonizing death.

the light in his eyes had vanished into the depths of his sinking stomach, far too out of reach to ever return. not now, not after succumbing into his own fears and letting your hand go. an unnerving moment of silence floats by, the clouds casting a dark grey over the world as far as your eyes can perceive. yeonjun dares not weep in your presence, shame returning in folds when he remembers the words he'd left you with days ago in an attempt to save himself from what he believed would have been an impending pain anyway somewhere down the line. if not soon, then later (and in larger, monstrous waves).

"you told me to never return."

was that the murderous clap of a thunder or the sound of his crushed heart echoing in his ears? choi yeonjun is a man in sorrow. regret seeps out of him in almost visible rivers, down onto the floor and reaching the tips of your shoes. a beat goes by and he sighs, defeated.

"i did."

you take a tentative step forward and he catches the hesitation through the mess of strands over his eyes, blocking you once again. his knees almost crumble underneath him. he doesn't deserve another chance, and yet you're at his broken doorstep offering him one.

through the blur in your vision, your trembling hands reach for his slender and beautiful fingers (a memory resurges of him lulling you to sleep on the piano, his bed a safe haven despite the empty grey walls in shambles and the apparent lack of anything making a space liveable other than where you lay on and the miscellaneous small objects not belonging to a place someone calls a home).

the rain had stopped pouring just minutes ago, his clothes soaked through and skin ice cold. the warmth of your skin feels ugly to yeonjun. it's too inviting (too familiar, too kind, too easy to melt back into, too good to be true after every mistake he's ever made—) and he feels his lungs constrict inside their cage, refusing to breathe enough air as if to punish himself for ever believing he'd be loved.

but he is.

unconditionally.

"don't leave me," the words clumsily part from his purple lips. yeonjun feels a tender hand against the back of his head pulling him into an embrace he'd prayed he'd be able to forget after running away from the life of peace that had terrified him.

you don't see his glazed, wide open eyes from your position, an arm around his neck and a hand running through his hair still dripping water on the nape of his neck, nevermind the shiver that runs down your spine from the cold sleeping through your shirt. a fist harshly squeezes your heart thinking about the man at your mercy.

there is no rain to blame the tears you feel collecting under your chin. a haggard breath of air inhaled, shoulders tense and trembling, a tug on the fabric of your shirt is enough to let you know that choi yeonjun is a man destroyed.

he's a man broken in more ways than one and one who is terrified of being held so compassionately, so fondly. petrified of being hurt again and yet so desperate for a semblance of affection. the weight of feeling unloved and fearing it at the same time weighed him down and chained him to the ground.

"i'll stay," your reassuring words reach his ears like a prayer answered, allowing him to collapse safely into your embrace like never before. once strong arms wrap around your waist as though he is bound to you for eternity, never to let go.

you sway together to the sound of the cars passing down below, unable to see them, standing so far away from the rooftop's railings and in a corner tucked away under the light above his doorway. your bodies mould into one synchronous being, complete like pieces of a puzzle.

yeonjun tightens his hold on you when you reach for the handle bar, pushing the creaky metal door open and into the safety of his small hideaway. finding it difficult to maneuver safely, he lifts you up and lets you wrap your legs around his torso to move you towards his bed, gently placing you down on the edge, letting you regain your bearings.

"please don't leave."

finally able to look into his eyes, yeonjun studies the expression on your face and the way your lips quiver. you bring your palm to cup his face, not needing to reach far as he crouches in front of you, his own hand wrapping over yours to bring you closer and lean further into your touch. his eyes flutter shut, feeling your soft lips press against his forehead, strands of hair brushed away.

"i love you."

"don't ever leave me, please."

"i love you."

"stay."

"i love you, yeonjun."

"i never meant to hurt you."

"i love you."

"i was just scared. i never meant any of it."

"i know, i love you."

"please believe me."

"i do, i love you."

"i love you, too."

"i know."

"how?"

"you always protect me even when i'm not looking."

"but i hurt you. i left."

"but you loved me then too."

"i did— i do. please forgive me. i'm so sorry."

"i love you, yeonjun."

[whatremained]

i honestly agree with the idea that pete wasn’t really friends with ruth or richie, and it’s not because of his reactions to their deaths or anything.

i say this because he is the most reactive to ruth’s death compared to grace & steph. also far more reactive to richie’s death compared to grace & stephanie too, but ruth on the other hand is like? majorly more anxious compared to rest of them hearing that richie was murdered, which will play into my take later but anyways.

i believe that pete isn’t really close with the two because of his reactions to the shit they do and say. like every possible moment, he is fidgeting nervously around them, spacing off, correcting them, or ridiculing them. and when he’s not doing that, he’s… trying to be nice, but good god does he seem so damn anxious about it. not to mention when he calls ruth and richie, “fucking nerds” they don’t laugh it off like… friends would? they roll their eyes and become offended. also! also also!!! gosh i love pointing out details, but pete seeming semi-confused at richie’s statements about the body-pillows. if they’ve been friends for years, pete would be used to it by now, completely ignoring it.

also, the lin manuel miranda thing, why is pete going up to richie and saying that? wouldn’t he have gotten a better reaction of ruth, the theatre kid? or is he getting ruth and richie’s interests confused?

they aren’t friends to pete, they’re just people pete decides to hang around with because he has no choice. why doesn’t have a choice? because of the system the school runs on. max, every other popular & cool kid at school, and then, the nerds.

that’s who he’s limited to.

it’s the way they talk and interact with one another that makes me think pete is just not as close to richie and ruth as we think he is.

but you know what, ruth and richie? oh, they’re incredibly close and you can tell. the jabs at one another with no reaction (ex. “who are you trying to impress…? ruth?” and ruth continuing on the joke). the overdramatic faces made toward one another?? also, the fact they tend to stand closer to one another than to pete? there are multiple scenes like that… almost every interaction these two have, you can tell they’re best friends. going back to my point with ruth’s reaction to richie’s death above, she is visibly more anxious hearing that richie is dead compared to every single one of the people being questioned. it’s heartbreaking actually, because this is a person she’s known for, likely, years and it’s just!

it’s so obvious how close they are.

they can joke around with each other because they know they’re joking when they insult one another.

there’s probably reason why pete gets somewhat defensive of richie’s comments about his outfit, or how the idea of him & steph together is ridiculous.

pete cannot tell they’re joking because they’re not as close.

but i do want to throw in. i think ruth and richie consider pete far more of a friend than he does them. they actively seek pete out, they feel like they can make jabs at him because they think they’re close enough pete can take it as joke. they worry about him, and pete just doesn’t think about them the same way (and he doesn’t realize they consider him a friend).

which is… kind of sad to think about!

anyways, that’s my ramble for today

forgive me for any misspellings and grammar mistakes

it’s like 1am rn

[faelorelia]

"Will's love towards Mike is a really beautiful thing." – Finn Wolfhard

And he is absolutely right. Throughout the whole series, the "Stranger Things" creators have made it clear to the audience how special Will and Mike's bond is and how much Mike truly means to Will. They have consistently highlighted the depth of Will's feelings towards Mike, and his love has saved the day quite a few times already. ❤️

Will's love for Mike is sincere, pure, quiet and completely unconditional. It's a love unspoken, yet expressed a million times through his actions. Will couldn't keep the truth from Mike in S1, even though it was just a small detail related to D&D. Despite being possessed, Will drew strength from Mike's presence and care, as if Mike was his beacon of light in the darkness. Mike's heartfelt monologue to Will about how asking him to be his friend was "the best thing he's ever done" reached Will's soul thanks to the love he felt, and that helped them all to stop the Mind Flayer in S2. In that same season, Mike was the one who Will was able to recognize after his possession because of how strong his feelings for the boy were.

We also saw the tender and emotional moments between Will and Mike in S3 and S4. Will's heartbreaking confession of "not going to fall in love" when he was (probably) already aware of his romantic feelings for his childhood best friend hits even harder when you think about it. Despite the times Mike unintentionally hurt Will, Will's love for him has remained too strong for him to simply forget and move on. There is just no way Will could ever get that boy out of his heart.

Because that's the thing – Mike is his heart, and Will hinted at it himself (albeit in a veiled form). Will's unconditional love for Mike is what led this sweet, sensitive and traumatized kid to set aside his own desires and pain just to ensure the happiness of the boy he loves. Even if Mike's happiness lies with his girlfriend (who also happens to be Will's new sister). Even if it means Mike is happy without him. But Will has long accepted this because he's inherently selfless and caring. He prioritizes the happiness of his loved ones over his own.

Will promised Mike he'd never be replaced and stayed fiercely loyal, as we saw in that unforgettable "Not possible" moment in S3 and later on in the show. Will was always there for Mike in S4 when he needed support and encouragement. He tried his best to patch things up between Mike and El, thinking it was what Mike wanted. Will even pushed Mike to open up to El, reminding him of his irreplaceable role in the party. Through it all, Will did everything he could to lift Mike's spirits, making sure he felt needed, valued and loved (even if it was indirectly through others).

And to prove, once again, how beautiful Will's love towards Mike is, I want to remind you of his monologue in the van scene where he was expressing his feelings for Mike by disguising them as Eleven's (slightly adapted to fit the purpose):

“Anyway, my point is, see how you're leading us here? You're guiding the whole party, inspiring us. That… That's what you do. And see your coat of arms here? It's a heart. And I know it's sort of on the nose, but that's what holds this party together. Heart. Because, I mean, without heart, we'd all fall apart. Even [me]. Especially [me]. These past few months, [I've] been so lost without you. It's just, [I'm] so different from other people, and… when you're… when you're different, sometimes… you feel like a mistake. But you make [me] feel like [I'm] not a mistake at all. Like [I'm] better for being different. And that gives [me] the courage to fight on. If [I] was mean to you or [I] seemed like [I] was pushing you away, it's because [I'm] scared of losing you, like you're scared of losing [El]. And if [I] was going to lose you, I… I think [I'd] rather just get it over with quick. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. So, yeah, [I] need you, Mike. And [I] always will.”

If Will's love for Mike isn't beautiful, then I don't know what is. Because "Stranger Things" shows us the true power of love and how it can change the world for the better. I find it truly inspiring. ❤️‍🩹

[lnfours]

haunted w conrad GO

okay so you’re trying to fucking kill me. i’m convinced. warnings: language, mentions of drinking, a little bit of fluff, angst and just pure heartbreak idk.

inbox 💌 | listen

if there was one thing you knew about conrad fisher, it was that he was unpredictable.

you had always been friends with the fisher and conklin siblings, living next door to them every summer for as long as you could remember. it wasn't a secret that you and conrad were the closest out of the group. but, as the two of you got older, you had realized that it was because you had fallen for the brunette boy with floppy hair that always seems to end up in his eyes no matter how short he cuts it.

you thought back to the moment on the dock, the two of you laughing as you sat with your feet in his lap. he was looking down at his phone, trying to figure out which song to play next on the speaker. belly, jere, and steven were all back by the pool, laughing loudly and carrying on.

you looked over at him as you caught his glance, you smiled, "what?"

she shook his head, "nothing,"

you raised an eyebrow, "sure it's not just nothing, con?" you could tell when he was trying his best to keep a secret, but it never worked. not around you, anyway.

"i just... you have a crush on me?" he asked, his lips turned up in a smile. your eyes widened as you sat up.

"uhm," you trailed off, looking at his expression. he didn't seem grossed out and if anything, he looked relieved? "uhm, yeah. how do you know?"

he smiled, "belly."

you rolled your eyes, "that girl is going to be the death of me."

he laughed, "it's okay. i mean, i guess i kind of have a thing for you, too."

you looked over at him, "you have a crush... on me?"

he smiled, nodding as he moved closer to you. you smiled as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "i do,"

your heart pounded against your ribs as you smiled, "cool."

"cool." he echoed back.

you made the mistake of looking down at his lips. he smiled softly, doing the same. you had always wanted this exact moment to happen, every wish on a candle, every penny in a fountain, you had wished for him. for this moment.

and now it was finally happening.

"can i kiss you?" he asked. you nodded your head.

"please."

he smiled before connecting your lips with his. every thing about the kiss was all you'd been waiting for. it was finally happening.

and the two of you had been together ever since. even during the spring, fall and winter, he was yours during every season.

now it was the next summer, and everything had changed from when you'd last seen him. he was quieter, kept to himself more. spending his days daydrinking, and smoking more. something was off, and it was like he was forcing himself to act happy around you.

you had tried asking him about it, but he always just shut you out, insisting he was fine when he really wasn't.

you sat in your bed, putting down your book as your phone buzzed on the mattress next to you.

connie can we talk?

your heart dropped, things like this never ended well.

y/n beach in 5?

connie sounds good

you tugged on a hoodie and slipped on your flip flops before making your way out the back door. you walked onto the beach, spotting conrad sitting down in the sand.

"you wanted to talk?" you asked, hugging your knees to your chest. he looked down at the sand by his feet, not making eye contact with you.

red flag number one.

"i uhm," he started, brining a hand up to run through his hair, "i think that we should put us on pause, for a minute.."

his voice trailed off as looked over at him, "are you serious?"

he finally decided to look over at you, his eyes red. had he been crying?

"yeah," he said, "i just... i don't think we should do this, not right now, anyway."

he knew that look on your face, you weren't listening to what he was saying, instead your eyes studied his facial features, "what's wrong, conrad? what aren't you telling me?"

he groaned, "for fucks sake, are you even listening?"

you repeated your question, "are you listening to me? i'm trying to help you!"

"i don't need your fucking help, y/n!" he was yelling now, standing up as he rubbed his face with his hands, "jesus."

you looked at him, standing up to face him again, "why're you pushing me out? what's going on, just talk to me. please."

the please came out quieter than you had meant for it to, and he knew it was because you were on the brink of tears. he looked over at you, "this was a mistake."

you looked at him confused, "what was?"

"us," he didn't mean it, he just was doing what he knew how to do best, push people out and hurt the ones you love the most.

you scoffed, looking away from him and looking out towards the ocean. the moon was hitting the water at just the right angle for it to reflect onto the waves. it would've been a pretty sight, a nice moment if he hadn't ruined it.

ruined you. with that one word. mistake.

you thought you had conrad all figured out up until now. up until this summer, he was different.

"don't leave it like this," you whispered, looking back at him with tears in your eyes. he desperately wanted to reach out to you, tell you he didn't mean any of it. tell you the truth about his mom's cancer, and his dad's affair.

but he couldn't. he didn't know how to.

"please, don't," you whispered, "i love you."

he let a tear fall from his eyes as he shook his head, turning to walk away, "i'm sorry."

he ignored you calling back for him as you stood on the beach. you were frozen in the sand, watching the love of your life walk away from you. he let the tears roll off his cheeks and disintegrate into the sand as he walked away from the one form of true love he had ever felt.

you.

[marchsfreakshow]

Knowing You're Losing [Warren Lipka]

Angst

You never should've fallen in love with Warren.

:) you're welcome.

No one's perspective

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

It was a mistake.

You knew it was a mistake.

That damned brunette.

He infected your mind. Never left alone in your thoughts. His stupid dark eyes. His stupid curls. His stupid shirts. His stupid demanour. Basically everything about him. God it was infuriating. That fucking smile. It was beautiful and you despised it.

Watching him worm his way into girls underwear every party he went to. Watching him have the time of his life like it was all going away the next morning.

You hated him so much you loved him. Everything about him annoyed the shit out of you, and you just fell. Fell into a fucking pit of heart wrenching smiles.

Spencer, being the guy he was, definitely knew your feelings. He let you linger on them since his best friend was a temperamental piece of...anyway.

"Hey guess what?"

"What?"

"I love you."

Whiplash. Straight into your heart. Staring out at the nighttime through your window. Tainted with rain and the occasional crash of thunder. Warren was drunk. You knew it. He didn't mean it. Should you have said it back? Yeah. Fuck it, say it back.

"I love you too Warren." Warren hummed in reply, smiling to himself. "You'd just call me to say that?" A stupid attempt to keep the conversation going after a few moments of unnerving silence.

"...yea pretty much."

"Right. Well try to get some sleep yeah?"

"totally." Then he hung up. He wasn't going to remember this in the morning, and you had made peace with that fact. Forever in limbo with a man who you shouldn't've really been hanging around anyway.

Like clockwork his calls came. He was either drunk and telling you some feelings that didn't matter. Or he was waking you up with another rant about the economy. You'd be a fool to stay loving him for so long. And you were that fool. Constantly the fool.

"you're the prettiest person I've ever had in my arms." That was a lie. Well, you thought it was a lie. You'd seen prettier. His arms were wrapped tightly around your front, your hands holding onto his arms. The lights around you buzzed around the edge of your vision, blinking occasionally to get rid of the buzzing for a few seconds at a time. Warren was swaying you slowly from side to side, barely in time with the music blasting through your ears and into your heart. The side of his face against your cheek, to get as close to you as possible. It was heartbreaking.

You loved him. And you had him. Finally. But it felt all for nought. No one warned you of just how, intense, loving Warren was...when he loved you back. His everything and nothing at the same time. Sure he'd drop everything if you asked, but if he fucked up and you were upset, he wouldn't come to your door with flowers and an apology. Well, he'd apologise eventually, but not the way you'd expect. He'd invite you out to a bar and you'd start talking about the issue while he stared hearts into your soul. A drink stuck to his lips.

"I love you."

"yeah, I love you too."

"No...Warren...I love you."

"I know. I love you too."

You should've expected that. He did love you, you knew that. But it just didn't feel like it. Like he was saying it back because he had to. Not because he wanted to. Great... another issue.

Cuddling onto his jacket, curling up on yourself. Half asleep, lonely again. Of course. You were an idiot for thinking you were different. Only letting yourself believe it because your relationship went the longest. 7 months. The best but worst 7 months. Longest 7 months of your life. Still friends. Still close as friends, you couldn't pry yourself away from Warren no matter how hard you'd try. He had infested your heart and your brain. Living in your cortex, keeping himself close to you even through your expected heartbreak.

Every time, he told you he loved you. Like nothing happened.

You were a fool.

Back to watching him worm through different relationships every few months.

"you know I love you right?"

"I love you too Warren."

⊹˚.⋆ ₊꒷ᘏᘏ︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹˚ᗢ₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷

Tags: @babygorewhore / @taintandviolent / @oceanblvd111 / @nahoyasboyfriend / @slutforgarlogan / @marchs-hummingbird @american-horror-whore /. @evanpeterspeter / @feefymo / @fear-is-truth / @lacucarachapisser / @saintlucretia / @jazz-berry / @t8-ak47 / @lemoniiiiiii / @xrag-dollx

[maple-the-awesome]

Twilight's Calling ||

Pairing: Twilight x GN! Reader

Words: 2,544

Requested by anonymous: Heeey. First of I love your writing style! It’s just amazing! Cause twilight is my fav. could you maybe write something like xreader with him, for example they’re in a battle or smth? Only if it’s okay ofc! Thanks a lot and have a good day and week! best wishes :) Twilight may or may not be my favorite Link, too (TP was the first game I finished, so I'm a little bias, okay?). I've had this draft lying around unfinished for awhile, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to finish it. Here you go, hun 💜

Zelda Masterlist 🤎Fandom Masterlist

It's getting pretty late. 'Late' as in the sun has long set and the last time you saw any of the boys was about an hour ago when Time finally managed to herd the remaining stragglers out of the room, although he was being a bit hypocritical seeing as he still lingered in the doorway for a good minute himself afterwards (not that you dared comment on it).

Since their heavy footsteps had faded into silence - and aside from the innkeeper sometimes shuffling down the hall or a sudden 'pop' of the bedside candle - you've been left entirely alone with your thoughts as they dance on the very edge of sleep, but you refuse to lose balance. It's your shift. You promised to be a good lookout and it took a lot of convincing to even get the position, so you can't disappoint no matter how heavy the weight upon your eyelids or heart is.

You've always been well aware of the risks that would come with this mission and from traveling alongside nine heroes of legend; troublesome young men and boys who can definitely handle themselves in battle, however none immune to making possible mistakes. You expected one to occur at some point, yet never wanted the aftermath to be anything too serious.

Wild getting a decent scar on his forehead was a scare when it initially happened, but he was back on his feet within the hour - less than that actually, because if you remember correctly, his quick recovery had been controversial and resulted in quite a bit of bickering. The bottom line is that Wild bounced back with little to no trouble thanks in part to his thick skull. This is different. Twilight has yet to follow his protege's example and it's been hours.

You must admit you underestimated the situation at first due to a lack of context. It's not to say you didn't care about Wolfie when he got struck, however there's a notable difference between a wild 'pet' that occasionally trails your group and the very man you've grown to secretly admire over the months you've spent traveling together. If you had known then that they are one of the same, you would've likely shared a similar level of panic as the Champion, but instead you were left in the dark until Four finally explained Twilight's secret to you.

Even at that moment, although more worried, you figured everything would be okay. Wolfie or Twilight, a fairy should be able to do the trick to heal the worst of injuries, so one can imagine your heartbreak once learning that, for some odd reason, the state of his wounds haven't changed even under a fairy's sacred touch. That's when you truly became fearful, but you refused to show it outwardly - no more than whatever made itself present on your face, anyway.

Making a fuss won't aid Twilight's condition nor will it calm the concerns of your friends, so instead you had mostly stayed out of the way until Time announced everyone should get some rest. At that point, you made your presence known, quick to shoot your hand into the air while volunteering to take the first shift for watching over Twilight. Champion was the only one to fight you for it and honestly, you still aren't certain how you won the argument, but here you are, sitting quietly at Twilight's bedside while trying desperately to keep yourself from descending into madness as you fret over his well-being.

He's doing somewhat better after Hyrule's magic managed to stop most of the bleeding, however his wound remains deep without any further healing progress and his skin is drained into a pale, sickly color clear even through the dim glow of candle light. He looks like shit and you'd guess he feels like it, too, seeing as his face curls into a pained expression every now and again, a whispered groan leaving him whenever he slightly shifts his body (not that he moves that much).

It's gotten a bit chilly tonight, however all blankets in the room have been laid over him and you refuse to swoop as low as to steal comfort from a dying man, so you simply keep huddled to yourself, half praying the next shift will come sooner and half praying it won't because a stubbornness inside you is somehow convinced that the simple act of you being here will keep himsafe from death's hands.

You don't pay much attention to the quiet groan that comes from the bed, having already bitterly accepted that there's nothing that can ease whatever pain haunts Twilight during his nightmares, although you do lift your head when a hand shakes its way into view, barely able to carry itself to the edge of the covers where it collapses with a broken echo from its owner, "W...What time is it?"

You almost cry simply by the sight of Twilight's dull eyes staring up at you, half-lidded and only appearing bright if compared to the dark bags hiding underneath them, but you manage to hold back the tears for the sake of not scaring him.

"I-I'm not sure. After sunset," You answer slowly as to prevent any wobbling to your voice.

"And the others? Is every - everyone else okay?" Hylia, he sounds awful, his once handsome, accent-laced voice butchered by a hollow croak.

"Yeah...Yeah, we're all okay - and don't worry about the shadow. Wild managed to take it down - thanks to you tiring it out, I'd say. You sure gave that thing a run for its money there," You attempt to joke lamely. Although your laugh doesn't carry much life to it, Twilight's expression does soften a tad after the sound.

"...Good..." Is all he says before closing his eyes with a sigh through his nose. Meanwhile you fidget nervously, debating with yourself on whether you should let the conversation die off so that he can continue getting rest or keep him talking while he's able to. You sure do love hearing his voice, after all, no matter how broken it may be; it reminds you that someone as great as him is actually real and, after recent events, still alive.

In the midst of your depressed thoughts, you notice Twilight reach his hand out towards you again - or at least it looks like he's trying to. Really, he only has the strength to lift it palm-up slightly off the covers, yet you understand this movement's wordless request. Ever so gently, as if he's made of glass, you take his hand and sandwich it between both of yours. He's a bit too cold for your liking, a sharp contrast to his normally warm touch, not that you draw attention to that worrying detail.

"...Is there anything I can get you?"

He tries to shake his head, but loses will halfway through the action and instead chooses to simply let his head lull to the side towards you. From there he stares for a bit longer than he means to, his dazed brain struggling to process his thoughts at its usual speed.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," You allow a small smile, slowly reaching forward to help move his bangs away from his face, "We're all taking shifts throughout the night. I was just lucky enough to get the first."

Twilight hums, closing his eyes for a brief second when your fingers brush his forehead, "How'd you manage that?"

"Barely. For a second there, I thought I was gonna have to duel the Champion for it - had my hand on my sword and everything before he finally caved," Twilight makes a sound between a scoff and a laugh which makes your smile more genuine even if he does flinch in pain immediately afterwards, "The real question is how I won against Time...Actually, I wouldn't be that surprised if he's secretly standing outside the door as we speak."

A creak of old floorboards in the hallway makes your eyes dart to the door, almost expecting the man in question to walk in and call you out for your jokes, yet you calm that doesn't happen. Twilight brings your attention back to him by moving his thumb against your hand, "Don't tell 'em, but I'm glad it's you here. I like having ya' here with me..."

You press your lips, hoping it'll help you ignore the heat against your cheeks. That must be the first time Twilight has ever openly said he 'likes' anything related to you; you're certain you'd remember any other instances of such a milestone. It might not be the exact sentence you'd want him to use the word in, but it's a step in the right direction, so you'll take it.

"I like having you here with me, too, Twi...which is why I've officially decided that I'm too selfish to let you die on any of us. I don't care if I have to fist-fight Hylia for it; I'm not letting you get out of this journey so easily."

"That right?"

"I swear it on my life."

He chuckles weakly, although the sound is taken over by a fit of coughing. Promptly you pour a small glass of water using the pitcher kept on the bedside table before gently helping him sit up to take a careful sip.

It's insane for you to think that only a few weeks ago, you had been secretly watching him move hay bales at Time's place effortlessly. Now he lies here in bed struggling to hold a conversation, his muscles shaking horribly by the simply action of prompting himself up even slightly. Seeing him like this makes you feel awful, but you also consider yourself blessed to be the one taking care of him during a low point like this, ensuring that he's properly cared for and tended to almost like a spouse would.

"Seems like I'm starting to lose you, farm boy. You should relax and get some more sleep," He makes a face and seems prepared to argue, however he must not have been able to think of anything convincing to say - that or the aching in his bones has become too hard to ignore. Either way, instead of saying a word, Twilight nods droopily before inching his way back down against his soft pillow while you fix the blankets over him again.

"Look on the bright side: make it through this and you'll probably get special treatment from here on out. Get your bags carried for you, have whatever meals you're craving be made each night...If you hobble around a little I'm sure you could even get Time to fuss over you -"

" - And what about you?" Twilight quizzes and you can't tell if he's being serious or just teasing. It feels like the latter, yet the way he watches you while awaiting your reply makes you feel another way; soft and warm, but a tad anxious at the same time, "What can I get from you?"

You pretend to think, although in truth, you already know there wouldn't be any limitations for what you're willing to give. If he asked for the world right now, you'd figure out some way to gift wrap it for him...but that's too embarrassing to admit aloud, "...Depends on what you're thinking and if you can swing it the right way."

He hums, once again staring at you just long enough to make that anxious feeling really prominent. Is there something on your face that no one told you about earlier? Is he judging your messy hairdo that you had no time to fix since the battle? Did you sound too flirtatious in your answer? Maybe his injury has given him the ability to read minds, so now he knows just how desperate you are to earn his affections!

"...If I asked you to stay with me, would you?" Twilight whispers so quietly that you barely hear, yet you do. 

"I, uh...Time will be here in an hour or so for his shift, but I won't go anywhere until then, okay?" Not even your poor excuse at smiling can save your stumbled words, yet you pray he doesn't look beyond either. He's loopy from such a stressful day, so it makes sense that he's have trouble properly wording questions. It also makes sense for him to be scared to be left alone - anyone would be in such a state. He doesn't have to worry, though; between you and the boys, someone will always be by his side throughout the night. You'd expect that knowledge to be a relief for him, however Twilight only frowns and looks away with a surprisingly depressed look in his eyes. 

Fiddling nervously with your hands upon your lap, you ask carefully, "...Unless you're wanting me to watch over your for the whole night? In that case, I wouldn't mind staying if it would make you feel better. I'm sure the others would be fine with it if they could just check in here and there."

Twilight presses his lips, refusing to look directly at you. If you didn't know any better, you'd say that based on his continued reaction, you're still somehow missing the point of his question, yet no matter how much you rack your brain, you can't think of what else he would've possibly meant.

You were tempted to ask for more clarity, but Twilight speaks before you can, "...I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

He nods bashfully which melts your heart in a way you're sure would be shamefully clear if he were only looking in your direction.

"...Well, since you took one for the team -" Scooting your chair closer to the bed allows you to cross your arms over the mattress and rest your head on top of them. Desperately you try to ignore your nerves and the cute way Twilight curiously looks over at you, "- I'll stay for the night if you promise me one thing."

"Hmm?"

"Stay with me, too? Without you, I might just loose my mind. Don't tell anyone else, but you don't drive me nearly as insane as some of the other boys do," not in the same way at least.

The corner of Twilight's lips turn upwards, his hand taking it's time to move over yours. The second it makes contact, you take the chance to hold onto it, "...Sounds like a deal..."

You match his smile easily, "Get some sleep, Twi. I'll be right here when you wake up, so just focus on getting better for me, alright?"

He hums one last time, drifting off to sleep as commanded where he seems to be far more peaceful than earlier. As promised, you remain by his side until morning, eventually falling victim to quick naps yourself only disrupted whenever someone else sneaks into the room to see how things are going. You're certain you'll be tired tomorrow with an aching back after spending an entire night hunched over, but that's a small price to pay for someone like Twilight. It'll all be worth it to see him recover, granting you even more time to spend by his side through thick and thin.

[theemporium]

A Blues lagoon please because I live for angst 💕. Number 30 - "You can't tell anyone." With Nico

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

30. "You can't tell anyone."

.

“Do you want anything to drink?” 

“No,” you grumbled as you nuzzled your face further into his chest. “And neither do you. Stay like this. You’re comfy.” 

Nico snorted but did as you asked, remaining exactly where he was as he pulled the duvet up to cover you both. His hands soothed over your skin, up and down your back and sides as you continued to settle against his chest. 

It was these moments he loved the most, the ones where it was a peaceful and comfortable silence between you. The moments where it felt adoringly domestic, like inside these four walls the two of you were just a completely normal couple—a fantasy he tended to indulge in far more than often these days. 

A fantasy he knew could come true, except for one tiny detail.

“What if we just tell your brothers?” 

You instantly tensed in his arms and Nico wanted nothing more than to take it all back, to rewind thirty seconds and smack his own hand over his mouth before he could ruin the moment. 

“What?” You eventually choked out before lifting your head to look at him, something unreadable in your expression and Nico hated it. “We agreed we were just keeping this between us.” 

“Yeah but,” Nico swallowed, trying to find some confidence in his own voice. He made his bed, he may as well lie in it now. “We’ve been doing this for months now. Jack and Luke are bound to find out at some point that—” 

“No, they won’t,” you said, your voice sounding colder than before. “You can’t tell anyone. Especially not them. Especially not this.”

Nico felt his stomach drop at your words. “Baby—” 

“No, I—” You shook your head, gathering the sheets to wrap around you as best you could before you began to move off the bed. Nico resisted the urge to pull you back, to tug you back into his arms and never let you. “This was a mistake.” 

His heart stopped. “What?” 

“We should have never done this,” you said as you began to grab your clothes off the floor, not even looking at him as you haphazardly began to get dressed again. “This was just….it was nothing. It’s fine. We were just having fun anyways, there’s no need to tell them.”

Nico could have sworn he was seconds away from throwing up. 

“It didn’t mean anything anyways,” you said with a strained smile as you looked at him, still naked under the sheets and lying on his bed. You pushed down the rush of warmth that hit you straight in the chest. “Well, thanks. I guess.”

“Thanks,” he repeated, a bit hollow. 

“I should—” But you cut yourself off, unable to find the courage to say a proper goodbye before you dashed out the room, leaving Nico to watch you with a feeling quite close to heartbreak crushing against his chest.

.

[haziwritesstuff]

But can't two people reconnect?

Based off Olivia Rodrigo's song 'Bad idea right?'

Modern! Aegon x reader Wordcount | 2.5k Warnings | smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), creampie, slight praise?, Aegon is a fuckboy but what else is new

You knew you shouldn't be here, but your heart wouldn't listen. Your hands trembled as you rang the doorbell of Aegon's house, the same house where the two of you fell in love. You felt a mix of excitement and fear, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you dreaded to see him again, yet somehow yearned for him too. Your heartbeat quickened as you waited for the door to open. You felt a wave of relief when it finally did. You stepped inside the house, not knowing what to say or do. You were flooded with memories of the good times you had with him, all the laughs and kisses. But now it was all gone, all those precious moments had ended in heartbreak...

You were startled by how nonchalant Aegon acted, as if the two of you had never broken up. You felt frustrated by this, and suddenly you felt all the anger that had built up inside you since the breakup. "Aren't you going to say anything?" you asked, your voice laced with bitterness. "I invited you, don't be so angry buttercup." "You invited me? This was a mistake," you said tartly. "I shouldn't have come here, and you should've stopped me." His calling you 'buttercup' triggered more anger within you. You wanted to lash out at him now, to punish him for his indifference. "Oh, I'm sorry buttercup. I forgot your feelings were so fragile. Maybe I should wrap you in bubble wrap next time so you don't bruise so easily," he said mockingly.

You scoffed at his comment, angry at him for making light of your feelings. "Don't act like you don't care, Aegon. You know exactly how much I've tried to move on without you. I've done everything in my power to forget you," you snapped. "And you know what, I'm leaving. This was a bad idea." "Leaving? Just like that?" he replied, smiling. "You're not really going anywhere. You always come crawling back to me in the end." "That's not true, I just made a mistake by coming here. I'm leaving now," you said firmly. You turned around to leave, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him.

"Aegon, let me go." "No, I'm not letting you go until you admit that you love me," Aegon said, his voice thick with desire. "I don't love you," you insisted, trying to pull away from his grasp, but he was too strong. "Then why are you here baby girl?" "Because I made a mistake. Now let me go," you said, pulling away from him. "Let me go or else," you threatened, your patience running thin. "Mhm... Or else what baby?" Aegon was clearly enjoying this. He's playing with you like you were his personal doll.

"Or else I'll do something drastic," you warned him, trying your hardest not to lose your temper. He knew how much power he had over you, and he was taking full advantage of it. "What are you going to do, buttercup? Cry and scream like a little girl? I'd love to see that," he said, taunting you. Your anger and frustration grew as he laughed at you. "I'm not going to cry, you bastard. I'm going to leave," you said, finally breaking free from his grip. "Go ahead and leave, baby. It won't take me long to make you come crawling back anyway," Aegon called after you, mocking you like he had always done.

"I'm not coming back to you, ever," you said as you went toward the door. "My friends were right to warn me not to come here. I'm an idiot for believing that anything would have changed between us." "Oh, I changed, baby," he said, following you to the door. His voice was softer and more sensual than it had been before. "I've changed just for you. I've changed my whole life to be with you. I would never do that for anyone else, just you. Don't you realize how much I love you?"

You froze, your anger and frustration turning into confusion and doubt. He was saying all the right things, all the things you wanted to hear. You could feel your resistance slowly melting away as he spoke to you in his familiar seductive tone."See? I knew you couldn't stay away from me," he said with a smug grin. "You're like an addict, and I'm the perfect drug. You'll keep coming back to me again and again, because no one else can give you the rush that I do." "I hate you."

"You hate me?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But it doesn't take away the fact that you're attracted to me like a moth to a flame. You may hate me, but you can't deny the passion that burns inside you for me." Aegon came closer to you, his voice now low and husky. He caressed the side of your face with his hand. "See? Everything we had was real. We are meant for each other. No matter how many times you leave, you'll always come back to me, because you know that I am the only one who can truly satisfy you." You hated him. But you mostly hated that he was right. No matter what happens, you always seem to find your way back to Aegon. "That's right," he said, still caressing your face with his hand. "I know you better than you know yourself. I know what you need, and I can give it to you. Let me take you to my bedroom, and I'll show you just how deep my passion for you runs." "Is that all you can think about," you rolled your eyes at him. "It's what you need, isn't it?" he asked, his voice now a sedative lullaby. "I can give you the rush you crave, the feeling of pure ecstasy. You will forget about all your troubles and worries, and just surrender yourself to me. Let me take you away from your worries, and take you to a paradise where it's just you and I".

You could feel your willpower crumbling, as Aegon's words wrapped you in that familiar trance. You wanted to fight against his words, you wanted to fight against him, but it was as if your body was frozen. Your mind was trapped in a fog of ecstasy. The sensation was intoxicating, and you felt yourself being pulled deeper and deeper into Aegon's arms... He gently lifted you in his arms, carrying you into his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, his hands brushing your neck and shoulders, sending shivers down your spine. Your every nerve was on edge, pulsing with desire.

"We can't keep doing this Aegon..." "But why not?" he asked, his voice now a whisper in your ear. "We love each other, we can't ignore the passion that binds us. Don't you want to feel that rush of adrenaline again? Don't you want to let go of your worries and just surrender to me once more?" He began kissing you softly, his lips grazing yours. You could feel his hands exploring your body, sending shivers of pleasure through you. You wanted to resist him, but you were helpless against his charms. He knew just what you wanted, and he was taking you to that dark place again. "Aeg..." you whimpered, you were almost pleading.

"Shh..." he said, his voice laced with seduction. "Don't deny this, don't resist me. Just let go and let me take control. "He slowly started taking away your clothes, his fingers trailing along your skin. You felt his lips caressing your neck, his breath stirring your hair. Your body was overwhelmed by his touch, your senses flooding with pleasure. Everything around you melted away until there was only you and Aegon. All that mattered was this moment, only him. He was on top of you, his lips grazing your neck, sending a wave of shivers down your spine. His hands caressed your body, his touch sending fireworks of pleasure through you. His breath was hot against your neck, your own breath becoming labored as he kissed you more passionately. You wrapped your hands around his neck, gripping tightly as if to make him understand that you weren't going to let him have his way with you so easily. You were tired of being at his mercy, of being under his spell. This time you were going to take control. He was still kissing you deeply, but he seemed unphased by your grip around his neck. It was as if it only excited him more. "That's a good girl," he whispered. "I like it when you're feisty, it makes the game so much more stimulating. But don't mistake your defiance for strength. You can only resist me for so long, until you finally give in like you always do.."

You knew he was right. You were only fooling yourself if you thought you could resist him for long. You tried to tighten your grip, but he just laughed and pushed you down on the bed. He pinned you against the bed, his body covering yours.  "You always surrender to me in the end," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck. "You can't resist my charm. You can't resist my love." You tried desperately to resist him, but he was too strong. You felt like a weak, helpless thing as he looked down on you with those deep, hypnotic eyes. His smile was intoxicating, his breath hot against your neck. You were helplessly at his mercy.

You were slowly losing your grasp on reality, as his kisses and touches sent waves of ecstasy through your body. You began to tremble, your heartbeat increasing as he began to explore your body. You felt his hands caress your legs, grazing the edge of your underwear. He slowly undid your underwear, the anticipation and the feeling of being exposed sending shivers through your body. You were now completely vulnerable, your body a mass of nerves, as his hands caressed your skin, touching everywhere but the places you desperately wanted him to touch.

You shivered, the feeling of his breath in your ear sending waves of ecstasy through your body. He was now touching all along your upper body, but his hands refused to go any lower than your neck. "You're being such a good girl," he said, his lips caressing your neck. "I like it when you try to resist me, it makes things more fun. But I know you're weak, you can't resist me for long." Your body was now a mass of shivers, your heart beating frantically as he teased you. He was finally touching everywhere except for the one place you were desperate to have touched. He was driving you crazy with anticipation. He was playing with your desire, testing your limits and seeing how much he could get you to beg. "Please..." you said, your voice laced with desperation. "Please what baby?" "Please..." your voice was trembling now, your fingers tightening around his neck. "Please don't make me beg. I can't take it anymore. Just fuck me..."

He kissed your lower stomach and then moved onto your pussy as you begged. Your body was now a burning mass of desire, your breathing becoming labored. He was teasing you now, taking his time before he finally chose to touch you. One lick was enough to cause a wave of pleasure that sent you to heaven. “That’s my good girl,” he praised you as he circled your clit with his tongue. He slowly slipped a finger inside your folds. You were completely flooded with sensation. Your mind was foggy and relaxed, and all that existed was the feeling of his touch. “Look at you baby girl, you’re absolutely soaking.” He licked his finger clean before entering two this time. He kept kissing your delicate pearl as his digits were working your sensitive folds. Your eyes closed tightly, your entire body quivering with pleasure. You were dripping with sweat, your breathing heavy and shallow. Your body was drenched in a rush of adrenaline, the feeling of pleasure flowing throughout every inch of you. You were a panting mess, utterly consumed by Aegon. You grind your pussy against him, using him to gain even more pleasure. You felt a familiar burning sensation building in your abdomen. Everything around you was slowly turning blurry. The feeling of Aegon working your folds expertly was almost overwhelming. “Cum for me baby, I want to taste you.” His words send you over the edge, your body trebling uncontrollably.

He kept licking your clit, Aegon wasn’t fully satisfied with your response yet. He wanted to taste everything, all juices. He wanted you to be a complete mess before he took you. “Aegon, fuck me!” your voice wasn’t soft anymore, it was loud, needy, demanding. He didn’t need to be told twice, quickly took off his clothes. His body was now exposed to you, and you couldn't help but stare. He grinned like cheshire cat when he noticed you staring. “You’ve been such a good, good girl.” You nod at him, wanting him to reward you for being such a good girl. Being his good girl. His cock was rock hard with precum leaking from the tip. Your mouth slightly watered at the sight.

“I want you on all fours,” you quickly did as he told. You felt the tip of cock at your entrance, he circled it there. “Aeg…” you whimpered. He pushed the head of his cock inside, stretching you oh so lightly. He pushed the head in and out in a slow rhythmic pace. Soft moans escaped your lips. He slid out completely and then he pushed back inside completely. Your eyes rolled back from pleasure. It has been a while since you felt this full before. Aegon began fucking you in a fast, unrelenting pace. You drove your hips upwards to meet his trusts. “You’re so tight, squeezing me like that.” He groaned. “God…” Yeah he knows… Aegon knows. He was fucking you brutally, each trust harder than the one before. You’d be sore and bruised tomorrow. His hand found your hair, pulling it back. “Such a good whore for me.” He grunted between gritted teeth. His cock was hitting all the right spots and soon a surge of pleasure shot through your body again. Aegon would follow you soon. He thrusts a few more times before he comes, painting your walls with his seed.

As you lay in Aegon's arms, enjoying the aftermath, your phone began to ring. It was Baela, wondering where you had been. She was concerned, but you didn't want to break the moment. You’d tell her you fell asleep, no need to tell her who’s bed you slept in.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Is This The End?

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 2332

Summary: With one week to prepare for the end, your emotions are in turmoil. Once in the safety of her quarters, you face off the Yautja and began to berate for this stupid idea.

Author Note: Guys I'm getting scared! There's only two official chapters left that are planned! The end is near.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 17 | Part 18

One week.

Those words echoed loudly with each step back to the safety of We’ar-ow’s room. That’s all the time you are given to come to terms with the end of this. This being your little space you’ve carved out for yourself. After the heartbreaking moment all those months ago to lead you here to be with We’ar-ow of all beings, you were finally happy.

Besides the terror that froze your veins, a raging heat melted the ice away and got your blood pumping. How could you forget these are just beasts? Monsters? Hot tears threatened to fall. Yet, with the frames of other Yautjas meandering through the hallways, you fought them off. She did not care about your feelings nor your safety if she’s offering you up like that.

It was a harsh reality. A slap in the face. A remind you are just her pet, her property. Nothing more in the eyes of that monster. You regretted forgoing your plans of escape. Any chance to get off this ride that was only heartbreak and death for you.

Heat rolled off of We’ar-ow. Her arm brushing against yours with each sway despite you inching to the side each time. You didn’t want her touching you. Not after she offered you to the very beast what wants you dead. The very monster who once loved you.

His words repeated alongside what had transpired. After what the two of you’ve been through, that’s what he’s diminished you to? And the fact he wants kill you. Or when he threatened something worse than death. You shuttered at the thought. A cold sweat causing your spine to tense up. You wished over a year ago that you never accepted Dwainet hand.

Love made you blind.

A mistake you weren’t going to commit twice.

The steel door slid open to reveal the sanctuary of We’ar-ow’s room. A place you could show off your true emotions.

Once locked inside. You stopped a step into the room and let the tears falls. We’ar-ow made her way to her room when she paused mid-step. She quickly about turned on her heel and returned to you. A black stare had blanketed your features as you peered at nothing.

Reality was unforgiving. Why couldn’t you just say no? Why didn’t you just say no to him? None of this would be happening. You would be dead in a week. Now, you get to count the days until both you and We’ar-ow died to Dwainet. Your body probably thrown out into space like garbage because that’s all you were to them. A pet. Nothing worthy of dignity, like Dwainet said.

That caused the first sob to break the heavy silence. It shattered into pieces at your feet.

We’ar-ow knelt down and cupped your cheeks. The rough pads of her fingers wiped any tears away. The sharp tip of her claw dangerously close to your eyes, but the Yautja was careful. “Why do you cry, ooman? Are you having sympathy for that scum now?” she questioned over your sobs and growling out the last few words. “He’s not worthy of anything you give him. Not even your table scraps.”

Your shoulders jumped with each shuttering sob that wrecked your body. Her words flew over your head. The pink Yautja took a different approach and drew you into her warm form. Her strong arms kept you trapped to her, holding you close. One of her hands soothed up and down the length of your bath.

In your despair, you wrapped your arms tightly around her neck and sobbed there. It was We’ar-ow’s fault anyway to have you like this. To have you breaking down like this. After all this time of picking up the pieces to your broken heart without even knowing it, she was throwing them away. It hurt worse this time despite knowing you should’ve expected this.

This race is nothing but beasts.

“Do not shed tears for him. He does not deserve your sorrow,” she rumbled into the air and continuously petting up and down your back.

Anger flared back to life. You ripped yourself away from her in a fit of rage and glared daggers at the Yautja. One who could easily tear your spine out of you without breaking a sweat. The alien stared confused at you, mandibles slightly twitching.

“That’s not why I’m fucking crying!” you screamed and moved out of her reach. The wall growing close to your backside. “You’re the reason. You’re-you’re a bitch! I’m nothing more than a pawn to you in this game. A fucking pet.”

“And you’re handing over your life and me to him without much of a fight. Three verses one. Seriously?! Were you hit over the head as a child?” The words tumbled out of your mouth without a filter in place. You could care less. At least the death she’ll give you will be merciful compared to Dwainet’s ideas.

Yet, We’ar-ow just sat there on her knees and took every word without batting an eye. Your shoulders heaved with every breath, teeth clenched together. Hot, salty tears still staining your cheeks with each one falling.

“I was so damn stupid!” you scoffed and began to pace. Her bright eyes followed your every move. “So goddamn stupid thinking there was at least one being on this cursed ship that didn’t want me dead. Clearly, it’s not Dwainet. And clearly, it’s not you either. Offering my life like that to him.”

You stepped closer to her and poked her chest harshly. With We’ar-ow on her knees like this, she was at eye-level with you. “For one moment in my life, I thought someone could at least care I was alive. That’s the bare minimum. That’s all I wanted. But you… you are just like Dwainet. Same personality, different font.”

At this point, your voice has grown hoarse over all the yelling. All the yelling that should have you dead. Yet, the Yautja had stayed silent and allowed every word to strike her. Not that it did nothing to harm her. Her pet couldn’t harm her. Nothing but a pet to her and everyone’s eyes.

Oh, how much of a fool you were.

We’ar-ow slowly blinked. That just angered you all the more. So much, you wanted to throw something physical at her. Something that could just make her feel a sliver of pain she’s brought down upon you.

“Is that what you think? That I do not care even an ounce about your safety and feelings?” Her words are heavy in the air. A loaded question you were quick to answer with a yes. The pink Yautja hummed, hands slightly twitching and eyes glancing down.

“I have failed then.”

Everything stopped. Your hand fell away from her chest as you froze to the spot. Failed? Those words too were loaded. “What do you mean?” you spat out the words, harsher than you meant to be in the fragile moment.

Her bright orange gaze found yours. Pain. “For everything that has come to this moment, I have done for you. Because you are my ooman. I have laid my claim over you so no other can take you away. All the gifts I have provided; the fights I have issued and won; this last battle to put this finally into the ground, was all for you. Clearly, I have failed.”

You were left speechless, jaw dropping to the floor at your bare feet. This wasn’t anything you’d expected to happen today. Out of everything you believe would’ve happened, for her to admit that…

New tears pooled at your lash line.

“Then why are you practically throwing away your life to challenge Dwainet like that? Three verses one. That’s completely unfair to you. I don’t care your skill level is high or whatever. No Yautja can win a fight like that,” you argued and returned your heated glare on her, for a different type of anger this time. “You are going to get yourself killed and I’ll be Dwainet’s property this time.”

Your shoulders leveled on their own. “If you truly care about me, then you wouldn’t have done that.” She was just throwing her life away at this point and completely not caring what happened to you. Two verses one is doable, but she chose one she’ll lose. You would rather she strike you down right here, right now than be in the hands of Dwainet again.

The Yautja grumbled, mandibles snapping shut. She stood up, towering over your form. Instinctively, you stepped away from her. She ate up that space you willingly gave until your back hit the wall behind you. The beast had you cornered and at her mercy.

One of her hands gripped your chin and tilted your head up. Eye contact was forced upon you. “I did that because I care. I will destroy Dwainet. This act will broadcast to the entire ship you are not to be even looked at. They are not worthy to look upon your form. You are here to stay and I will make sure everyone knows this.”

“No one-“ her hand slid down to wrap securely around your neck “-will ever get in my way. Not when it’s something I desire.” Your heartbeat raced underneath her claws.

Was she not getting it?! She was too oblivious to see she’s doomed herself. You gritted your teeth and clenched your eyes shut, doing everything to stop sobbing. Her fingers squeezed for a moment. That was the last crack in the damn.

Your eyes snapped open, hand gripping her wrist and nails digging into hard flesh. “You don’t get it! You don’t fucking understand it! Don’t do this. Please. Don’t!” You tugged on her wrist but the attempt was futile. “I can’t lose you. Don’t you get it! I love you!”

All you could hear thundering was the wild beating of your heart. Something you knew she could not only hear herself but feel as well. Your chest heaved with every breath you took after words as you gazed up at the pink Yautja you’ve fallen for. An action you said yourself you would never do again. But, history has a funny way of repeating itself.

Hoarse sobs broke free from your dry throat. Your head smacked against the unforgiving wall behind you, eyes drifting shut. What had you done? Those… those words were never meant to make it to the air. They were never to be said. Here you go ruining everything all over again. You hoped for her to just end you right now. Put you out of your misery.

The hand around your throat tightened. “Open your eyes,” she ordered with a gruff voice. At first you refused until she growled. Through the blurriness of tears, you find her gaze burning into you. “What you say is the truth?” Oh god, she was going to make you admit it.

When you went to close your eyes again, she pressed firmly on the sides of your neck. Nowhere near enough to hurt. She looked at you, waiting for those three words fall from your apparently loose lips. “Don’t make me say it again. I’ve embarrassed myself enough already,” you croaked out and gave a pleading look at her.

Yet, the Yautja didn’t relent. You whined, eyes falling shut for only a moment. This time, you knew what words would have a bigger impact on her. Words you’ve learned. “I offer you my bare heart.”

Yautjas don’t use words like love as it’s not part of their culture or language. But to be unarmored and bare to someone is the highest trust you can offer to them. In short terms, it means you love them.

Emotions swirled in those piercing eyes of hers. Nothing concrete you could pick up on. Both of her hands reached down and grasped the back of your thighs. Easily, you were lifted off of the ground but kept trapped to the wall. Her heavy body forced your legs apart as she held you at eye level. “You do know the extent of your words, yes?”

The amount of times you’ve heard from Dwainet… You nodded your head. “I do. And I mean it. You’ve gotten me to love again.” Your poor throat aches from the amount of screaming you’ve accomplished today.

A purr erupted from her throat while she rubs her forehead against yours in a sweet nuzzle. “My ooman,” she mumbled, eyes drifting shut. You gulped down the lump that had been forming and breathed freely. “I will be victorious. All for you, little one.” Your heart swelled at the nickname. This feeling filling you again was long missed.

We’ar-ow pulled you from the wall and carried through her quarters. Her steps were long, fast. You locked your arms around her neck, unable to do the same with your legs to her torso. But her massive hands kept you suspended, pressed to her form. She wasn’t letting you go anytime soon.

The familiar bedroom filled your senses. We’ar-ow brought you onto the bed and sat down all the while still holding as close as possible to her. Her hands stayed where they were as the Yautja leaned back and brought you with her. You were glued to We’ar-ow, legs clenching at her sides to kept you there.

With her back to the mattress, you were laid upon her torso, unable to straddle her. Your knees unable to touch at her sides. When go to shift a little, her claws bite into your thighs, preventing you from escaping. As if you wanted to.

It didn’t take long to find the perfect spot to lay on top of her. Your head was tucked away into her neck. The long rubbery dreads pushed out of your way to lay claim in this sanctuary you’ll call home now.

In her arms, nothing can hurt you. Nothing will hurt you. Nothing will try to hurt you. Not in the face of the Monarch.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 17 | Part 18

[voidspiraling]

What do you think about the Red pupils in alien stage? Because when I first see them I think it’s just an Ivan trait, but in a few shots, Till has them too. Specifically when it’s related to Ivan. I would think it’s stress because of the fact he was stressed when Luka was manipulating him, but there’s also the Metor shower scene where he’s the happiest we’ve seen him at. Also! Thoughts on the comic where Till says “Because of you Mizi won’t play with me anymore?” And Ivan says that it wasn’t Mizi playing with him it was him? Like, what do you think that comic could mean on both their relationship + how Till loves Mizi? Cuz I think it’s interesting that he’s in love with her because of her smile and her presence but mistakes Ivan for her

Hiiii Srry for the late reply I had finals weeks and was dying. Thank you so much for your ask I’m happy to talk abt red pupils and the comic!

Red eyes are super interesting in IvanTill.

This is the first shot from R3 we get of baby Ivan, and his eyes naturally have the red dot in them. Usually they’re a darker color so his eyes look black most of the time.

So I disagree with the theory that the aliens experimented on Ivan’s eyes to turn them red. His eyes have always been red, you just don’t notice it unless you boost the saturation and contrast. Or have super strong eyes ig. HOWEVER.

Ivan’s eyes get redder when he feels strong emotions. This is the comic showing his final thoughts, here he is likely feeling jealous that Sua was able to be in a mutually requited love with Mizi. It’s almost like his entire world is turned upside down. What do you mean the girl who is so similar to me is able to find happiness? Why couldn’t I? Why is she so happy and I’m so miserable when we’re both the same? So we can associate bright red eyes with intense feelings. Just like how the color bright red can mean intense love but also extreme danger. Now let’s talk about when Till’s eyes are red.

The first time in canon is the infamous meteor shower scene. It’s one of the happiest times we see him. In this moment I think the red pupils represent the happiness and love he feels for Ivan. I’ve talked abt the red sky before but I’ll briefly say that this bright sky is a pivotal moment in both of their lives. It’s where their love was almost fully realized (in my delusional eyes) before being ripped to pieces. Remember red means love but it also means danger. So when Till’s eyes are red it means he’s feeling an intense emotion related to Ivan, bc Ivan naturally has red eyes. In this scene it’s probably love that he is feeling intensely.

Now let’s look at R6 Till, his eyes are red here too but it’s not out of happiness but of heartbreak. I wanted to talk abt this later so I’ll keep this short. But isn’t it strange that Till was so defeated after Mizi disappeared. She wasn’t even confirmed dead but he was already at his lowest. I think the real reason he stopped singing wasn’t just bc he was sad abt Mizi, but bc he didn’t want to win against Ivan. Losing his idol made him realize that the only person he has left is Ivan. It’s like a reality check for him. (Honestly if Mizi somehow won R5 I feel like he’d still throw the match but I’ll explain my delusions separately.) Anyways in this moment right before Ivan kisses him, he is probably shocked at seeing Ivan. Remember Till doesn’t realize that Ivan loves him, he probably attributes Ivan’s weirdness around him as something he does out of hate rather than him trying to get the attention of his crush. So seeing him also throw the mic away and stand so close to him was surprising but also comforting in a sense. At least the last face he sees will be Ivan.

Now onto R7, this is I think the brightest red we see in Till’s eyes. I think this is bc his world just ended hours ago (however long the time between rounds is idk rlly all I know is that R6 and R7 happened the same day.) All the ppl he grew up with died, he doesn’t know what happened to Mizi, and he’s up against the Ruler of the Stage. But here his eyes are red when Luka impersonates Ivan. Again his red eyes likely represent the deep heartbreak and sadness he feels about Ivan. After Ivan’s sacrifice and kiss Till has to re-contextualize everything Ivan has done. I think also it forced him to confront the red sky that haunted him (ie: missed chance at freedom, finding happiness with Ivan) there was a lot of red scenes and red lights during R7 that reinforces this idea.

Overall red eyes are Ivan’s signature, but it’s easy to miss bc it blends with the black of his eyes. Ivan also wears a lot of black you can barely see any red on him. But Till who cares a lot more abt Ivan than he’s willing to admit, notices the red in his eyes. So when Till’s eyes turn red it means what he’s feeling is connected is related to Ivan. We don’t see Till’s turn red when thinking abt Mizi.

There is one exception however.

It’s in R2. Now this could just be thematic, Till just killed an alien living in his guitar. HOWEVER let’s pretend it’s more than that. Red eyes represent Ivan bc he naturally has red pupils. BUT the color red represents Till. He’s got bright red pants, dark red gloves, blood red on his pants and he’s seen cherishing and holding red flowers.

Methinks Red is Till’s signature color bc Till likes the color of Ivan’s eyes. (And if you think abt it pink is just a lighter shade of red hehehe…)

To answer your question red eyes are an Ivan thing bc he was born with red eyes. But red eyes on Till means he’s looking at Ivan meaningfully, acknowledging his own feelings for Ivan it could be positive feelings or negative feelings. But considering that Till’s eyes turned red from being depressed over Ivan, I think Till has mostly positive feelings for Ivan.

Now part 2!

This comic is basically Till threatening (failing to threaten rlly I mean look at Ivan’s face XD) to punch Ivan in the bathroom bc he believes Ivan was somehow the reason Mizi wouldn’t play with him. You can find the translation on Twitter by @WhataFruit.

Ivan’s response was basically what the hell are you on Mizi never played with you in the first place. Then the small text is him saying I was the one who played with you.

On Till’s side the real reason Mizi doesn’t play with Till, is bc she thinks Till doesn’t like her. She likes how artistic he is, and thinks his piercings suit him. But she sees him awkward and uncomfortable around her and assumes it’s bc he doesn’t like her. She wants to be friends with Till but due to Till’s avoidant tendencies they’re not close.

He blames Ivan for this bc he doesn’t have anyone else to blame. He’s May not even be aware that he’s avoiding ppl like this. Ivan was just a jerk to him anyways so it’s easy to blame him if something he doesn’t like happens to him. This is the kid that steals his pencils it wouldn’t be too surprising if Ivan said something weird abt Till to Mizi.

Another thing is that he talks abt Ivan wanting revenge for hitting them when they were younger. This could be bc Till likely feels guilty abt hitting Ivan. When they grow older, yeah Till still gets pissed at Ivan, but he doesn’t hit him anymore. In fact he tries to ignore him like in the R6 flashback when Ivan pulls at his wound on his cheek. It’s like when you tell a little girl to stop reacting when a boy is mean to her bc he likes her (not that it ever stops the boy from being abusive but whatever). So I think this is how Till sees Ivan’s feelings towards him. He’s doing weird stuff cuz he’s mad at me/hates me for hitting him when we were younger. It could also be he feels guilty for throwing away his only chance at freedom with Ivan. Cuz it wasn’t just his freedom he gave up it was also Ivan’s freedom that was lost. It wasn’t Till’s responsibility or anything I’m not blaming him for Ivan’s choices. But as a result of Till’s actions both him and Ivan are trapped as pets again. Till blaming himself for Ivan coming back could be why he thinks Ivan only has negative feelings for him. And why he doesn’t attack Ivan after Ivan provoked him, he probably thinks he deserves Ivan tormenting him.

Now let’s talk abt Ivan’s response. He’s blunt as always with no tact when he says Mizi never played with you in the first place. But the smaller text is him saying I’m the one who plays with you.

From this the smaller text makes me think abt how Ivan is only truly honest when Till isn’t awake or looking at him.

In R6 Ivan is showing comfort and care to Till after he had been forced to sing for the aliens (idk if that scene has actual SA or if they just drugged him and hit him but regardless Till is suffering here). There is no way to misconstrue Ivan’s action as anything but care here. He unlocks Till’s collar and nuzzles his gently the way Till nuzzles flowers. He could’ve kissed Till here, could’ve unbuttoned his shirt or pinch his face etc. But the only thing he does is gently comfort Till.

I think this shows how Ivan wants to be kind and cherish Till. But something holds him back from doing it when Till can receive that care properly. It doesn’t matter how much you love give someone if the other person never receives it in a way they understand. It’s probably bc for Ivan who has been treated as a product/investment he doesn’t have a lot of self-worth. He’s so used to just fulfilling everyone’s expectations of him that he lost his individuality. Loving Till doesn’t fit inside everyone’s expectations of him, not even Till’s. So he only does what he wants when no one is aware of it, when he’s by himself. In the student interview he allots a lot of time for “private time” this could be bc that’s the only reprieve he gets from constantly acting like the perfect pet for the aliens. And with the low self worth and calling his feelings “shallow” he like Till also believes he’s not worthy of affection.

He acts like a jerk to Till partly out of immaturity, anger at Till for not leaving with him and bc if he acts like this he can maximize the time he spent with Till. If he acted like Mizi, gentle and kind, he assumes Till would run away like he does with Mizi. Remember Till grew up being taken away from his mom and being abused by Urak. As a defense mechanism he assumes that violence is normal and avoids the unknown kindness others have for him. As an avoidant person myself, when you’re not used to ppl being unconditional kind, it is VERY uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough that we shy away from it. So that’s why Ivan fulfills Till’s expectation of him being a jerk when he’s awake. But when Till isn’t looking at him or when Ivan’s abt to die he shows pure love towards Till.

Look at the face, that’s the look of someone in love. And one of the few times we see him wearing a collar. It’s bright green when looking at Till, Ivan you have so much affection how can you call it shallow 🥲 How many ppl could give up their chance at freedom just for the person they love? (This is why I can’t get behind ppl who think Ivan would cage Till or trap him by his side. Ivan literally respected Till’s choice not to leave their hell and even stayed with him and loved him the entire time they were together ;-;)

Also abt the last part I’m unclear where exactly Till mistook Ivan for Mizi? From my understanding I see Till loving Mizi as a performance and I think Vivinos said Till saw Mizi as an idol. Like how most ppl love idols, we only love the fantasy version we come up with of them. Very rarely do we see the messy human side to them. And even tho we may obsess over them and feel intense love for our fav idol. Eventually we turn off the screen and go through with our day. That’s how I see Till loving Mizi.

I mean whenever Ivan is watching Till, Till is mostly drawing, practicing/composing music or just by himself. There’s not really a scene of Ivan watching Till look at Mizi. It could just be that bc it’s Ivan’s pov we only see Till and no one else. But we also know that Ivan has spent a lot of time with Till in the garden, he’s our only insight into what Till is actually like. So I think Till loves Mizi from afar bc he unconsciously doesn’t want to actually get to know her and ruin his image of her. Even after seeing her attack Luka in R5 he still hallucinates her as a gentle almost angelic figure.

I mean I think Till has always loved Ivan but that’s just bc I’m delusional lol.

Anyways thank you so much for the ask! Sorry for the lateness and the nonsensical yapping. My brain is kinda fried rn from all the tests but I might come back and re-analyze the comic.

[stxrvel]

not my one

summary: bucky was in love with you, from the bones to the tips of his hair, and life would be perfect for him if it weren't for the fact that you had just gotten engaged to Steve.

pairing: (bucky barnes x) f!reader x steve rogers

words: 4k

warnings: some bad words, bucky regretting a lot of things, bucky suffers a lot, reader is not aware of anything, miscommunication, bucky can be unfair to those around him. love triangle?¿ also angst. like i said before, there's no happy endings in this account.

note: hi! i had this in my drafts too for days until my inspiration strike again, and also only by leehi was playing on repeat on my headphones while writing this. if you want a full experience, i highly recommend you to listen to that song while reading. there's something in using a love song to write a heartbreaking story. anyway, i hope you all like this!! and i dont know when ill see you again so i really hope you guys enjoy this one. feedback is always appreciated! <3

So… Bucky knew it was wrong. From the beginning, from the first furtive glance, from the first unexpected, not at all reciprocal, brush. Bucky knew it was very wrong. His moral compass was shot when his thoughts, his intentions, went south and he couldn't stop them, or just didn't want to. At first it was hard to stop them, but at least he knew he intended to. After a good while, Bucky couldn't be sure he was really trying to stop it at all.

His gaze wandered in the crowds, among familiar faces, but only one that really cheered his soul. Guilt followed him, too. Maybe he had stopped fighting the feeling, but that didn't make it any more bearable. Seeing those two faces, smiling at them like it was nothing, asking them about the ring as if it were casual small talk while his heart contracted, made him feel like a traitor every day, and that guilt hung on his back like a bag full of stones. He carried his own sin like the unworthy one he was.

Still, he loved carrying those little moments in his heart, as if they really meant something, as if he didn't feel like he lost something every time he did it, as if butterflies flew around him when they did and everyone around him got as excited as he did, as if all the love songs came true in a single moment. As if saying I love you was as easy as breathing.

“Bucky, what do you say?”

But that was all just in his head.

“I'm with Natasha this time.”

The whole table was filled with shouts and boos. Bucky felt like he could shrink back in his seat and disappear.

Your face was right in front of his, a huge smile made your eyes sparkle. Everyone he knew was gathered and there were so many places Bucky could look, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the curve of your lips. It was electrifying the way a simple distant gesture could ignite his body like that.

And it was shattering the way he had to remind himself that he couldn't stare for that long.

Not when the first person you saw after laughing was Steve. Not when the first hand you held was his. Not when those sparkling eyes were only for him. Bucky had to remind himself that he couldn't stare at you too long because you were his, for Steve, even though Bucky felt like he was eternally yours.

Bucky could remember the first time he'd seen you because it had been the first time he'd felt alive after so long living in the shadows and dust.

He was fixing his motorcycle, as he used to do countless times, instead of having gone out with his friends to the dinner that night that Wanda had scheduled. Every month they had an outing and one of them had to organize it. That was how they'd basically managed to stay in touch after so long after being out of college.

Bucky knew everyone was going to hate him for canceling at the last minute, but he really didn't feel like going out. So he sat outside his garage with his motorcycle looking for any slightest mistake he could fix or any scratches he could paint while he spent the entire day just there. That was his plan. But everything changed the moment you suddenly appeared in front of him, in a white flowered dress that he could still remember, that you actually still wore, and asked him if he could help you. With those doe eyes and a pout Bucky couldn't have escaped you, even if he wanted to.

“Excuse me, hello,” Bucky heard your voice for the first time and raised his head as if he knew what was in store for him.

Seeing you for the first time was very pleasurable, Bucky truly thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. The tool in his hand was halfway through fixing something on his motorcycle when his hand froze and his lips remained pursed. When he thought about it from time to time, Bucky thought he must have looked like an idiot.

“I don't want to bother you. Uhm… I'm Y/N. I just moved into the house over there,” you moved to point to one of the houses in the neighborhood that Bucky had seen for sale, being so far inside his own head to even realize that someone actually moved in there. “I wanted to know if… Well, it's just that I see you fix things and I- My car broke down. I don't know what's wrong with it, but it won't start with anything. I don't know anybody around either and only you were around, could you help me?”

Bucky had never heard a person ramble on like that. Rather he could say he had never heard such a melodic voice nor had he ever found a person who just rambled so tender and entertaining.

He took a moment to look behind you, where indeed there was a black car parked near the approach with the hood open. Returning his gaze back to you, he found you anxiously waving interlocked hands and a slightly frowning brow.

“Sure,” was all he said.

The smile you sketched for him felt like a reward.

“Thank you! Really thank you so much.”

Bucky could only nod as he picked himself up off the floor.

At that moment, your gaze lowered and met the bare chest of a man who spent every morning looking for something to fix on his perfectly good motorcycle. Bucky didn't think it was ever possible again, but he felt his cheeks redden.

“I'm going to-” Bucky motioned pointing to his house and then to his bare chest and then disappeared behind the door leading into his living room from the garage.

As he entered he had leaned against the closed door and berated himself for acting like a teenager and not a responsible adult who paid his taxes on time.

He came back out a few minutes later wearing a dark shirt and found you circling around his bike, looking at it as if you were in a museum. When he approached, you straightened up in embarrassment. Bucky wondered what you could feel embarrassed for when your very existence was worthy of being admired like that in a huge museum.

“Is that your car over there?” he asked stupidly, pointing to the only car parked along the road.

But as if that hadn't been too obvious a remark, you nodded animatedly and started walking in the direction of the vehicle. It looked like that huge grin wasn't going to disappear from your face since he agreed to help you, and Bucky felt like he was going to get in trouble for it.

“It came out of the garage very normally and I parked it here. I turned the engine off and went inside to get some stuff out and when I came back it just wouldn't start,” you explained with a cute frown, as you moved closer and closer to the car, that he couldn't stop staring at as if that was what he had to fix.

“Okay,” he almost whispered, and was startled as you moved closer to him to hear what he was saying. “You can stay in the seat and turn it on when I tell you.”

You shook your head animatedly again and went to sit down to wait for his direction. Bucky lingered for a moment processing the delicious floral, sweet smell, and the vanilla that your perfume gave off. He felt it wouldn't be long before it became his favorite scent. The lavender and vanilla. Bucky wasn't even a fan of ice cream or flowers.

He reluctantly looked down, letting the scent escape into the air. He quickly spot the problem and, after a simple motion, reached up to lower the hood.

“You can turn it on now.”

Bucky watched your surprised face, eyebrows raised and lips curved in a circle. It startled him how fast you were making his heart move in such a short time. How was that even possible?

It was even better when you moved the key and the car started without a hitch, with that giant crescent smile that almost hid your eyes completely. By the time you got out of the car, any trace of discomfort or nervousness in you was gone.

“Thank you very, very, very much. You don't know what you just saved me from…”

Bucky stared intently into your shining eyes, as if in the midst of a trance, as if he had to do it to live. He became so immersed in his introspection that he almost didn't notice that you were waiting for him to give you his name.

“Bucky.”

“Bucky…”

He almost melted at your melodious voice repeating his name as simple as butter, as if that's the way it had always been.

“Thank you so much, Bucky.”

He nodded, barely curving his lips into a half smile, and that also served as a farewell.

Bucky didn't know, or maybe he did, that from that moment on he wasn't going to be able to get you out of his head. And even if he tried, doing so would be more painful than simply leaving you there growing in his thoughts like ivy.

--

Bucky had spent many nights thinking about what had gone wrong. He replayed conversations in his head endlessly, like a broken record he replayed his own words, thought about what it all would have been like if he had done something different, if he had said something different, if that really would have been a relief to his heart. Bucky had already thought of everything, but really the only answer is that you were not meant to be together as he'd imagined.

Nothing was ever reciprocated. Any spark, any friction, it all had to have been inside his head because there was no other explanation.

And everything changed that night.

He had talked to you too many times since your car thing, even though it was hard for him. You had been to his house and he had been to yours almost countless times. You would meet in town and drive back together. You walked early on weekends. You brought him the best dishes he'd ever tasted in his life to eat together….

And he decided to take you to meet his friends. Even before he took you on a date. Before talking about what you had. Before a kiss. Before sleeping together.

For Bucky there was nothing more important than you meeting his friends. That's how big his love was, even if sometimes he lied so he wouldn't see them. It was his way of loving.

Every day of his life he regretted that decision because that night it was all about Steve and you. That night he felt like the world was falling apart on him. Everyone was talking about Steve and you. That you had so much in common, that you would make a cute couple, that your children would be beautiful. Bucky loved his friends, but that night…

After that everything went to hell.

As if you'd never met him, your days began to fill with Steve.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh. I'm going to meet Steve. We have a reservation.”

“Ah.”

Every day. There wasn't a day when he didn't hear his best friend's name come out of your mouth, sentencing him to eternal agony, because Bucky was never able to tell him that he loved you first, that he fell in love first. He couldn't do that to Steve who in so many things had been with him and had gone through so much.

“Are you free tonight?”

“No, Buck, I'm sorry. I'm going out with Steve.”

“Oh, sure. Is he coming to pick you up?”

“No, I'll take a cab.”

“At this hour?”

“Don't worry. I'll text you when I get there.”

And you did. But you wrote him too much. You told him how amazing the date had gone. You described how good you felt around him. And you confessed to him that you'd kissed.

Bucky thought about moving out after that.

“Hi, Bucky!”

But he also thought about how hard it would be to be so far away from you. Maybe it was worth it to avoid a broken heart, but…. No, it was too late for that now.

“Are you doing anything tonight?”

He lifted his head so fast he felt a whiplash of tension run down his back.

“No. Why?”

Could it be possible that…?

“Then you are cordially invited to a game night at my house. Sincerely, Steve and I.”

Steve and I.

Bucky shouldn't have been disappointed because he knew he shouldn't have felt hope in the first place, but he didn't expect to feel the anger bubbling in his chest either. You walked away like it was nothing after that, with a huge smile on your face, the one that made him fall in love with you in the first place. You walked animatedly as if you hadn't just stomped his heart to smithereens. You walked totally oblivious to the overwhelming guilt that grew from the pit of his stomach to plant itself in his chest for the first time.

You didn't even know anything. There was no way Bucky could blame you. Not even Steve. He had only himself to blame. For not speaking up first, for waiting so long, for not taking the risk.

Bucky didn't go to that game night.

Not the next one, not the one after that, not the one after that, not the one after that, not the one after that either…

Bucky stopped going to his friends' monthly meetings. He always said he had too much work. And yes, he dragged out his own work so he wouldn't even risk thinking about all he had lost.

At least five months passed and it was a year to the day since that night when Bucky made the worst mistake of his life.

That night he was surprised to find Steve outside his door.

He had just come home from work. It was close to ten o'clock at night. His face was cold from the weather and from not wearing his helmet since entering his residential area.

“Steve,” was his greeting.

“Bucky,” his friend reciprocated as he parked the bike in his garage.

Reluctant to any kind of conversation that might come up that night, Bucky tried to find any possible excuse to get Steve to leave. But he took too long.

“We're neighbors now,” was all Steve said, once Bucky got off the bike and turned to face him.

“What?”

“I moved in with Y/N today. I live with her now.”

Like a hundred broken panes of glass Bucky's heart sounded every time it pounded. His friend's sparkling eyes were telling him, screaming at him to say something, to congratulate him, a few words, but his breath caught in his throat and he didn't even feel like he could trust his own legs at that moment.

You had moved in together.

You loved Steve so much that you'd asked him to move in with you.

“That's good, Steve.”

Not even great, just good. The words came almost slurred out of his mouth, and yes, his own head ripped the words out of him before it became too awkward and suspicious a silence.

“We tried to call you to come by after work. We had a little party.”

“I had my cell phone on silent.”

Bullshit. Bucky had seen every call, even yours, along with your messages, and had spent a good while just staring at the screen wondering what it could be about that both of you at the same time wanted to contact him.

“I figured.”

Steve sighed, and for a second Bucky thought he had figured it out. From the look on his face, Bucky figured he'd tell him to stay away from you and not try to get close because he'll have him between his eyebrows.

“You can stop by tomorrow at breakfast, if you want.”

Somehow, that was worse.

“No, thanks.”

“Buck-”

“I'm leaving very early for work.”

“Bucky-”

“I can't, Steve, I'm sorry.”

“Bucky, we haven't seen you in months.”

The aforementioned stood halfway through opening the door to his living room, almost completely forgetting that had he gone through to the other side he would have locked his best friend in his garage and, for a moment, that almost didn't even matter to him. The thought scared him.

“It's been about four months since I've seen you in person. I figured you were going through something and needed time, but hasn't it been a long time already?”

“Five.”

“What?”

“It's been five months,” Bucky turned to look at his friend unhinged face and guilt washed over him once more, as strong as the first time, a great wave breaking the sand. “Come in. So you can go out the front door because I already locked that door and it's electric and very slow and…”

The sympathetic expression on Steve's face didn't please him, he decided he didn't like it. It looked like he was looking at him with sorrow, with pain, but he didn't understand, he wasn't going through half of what Bucky was feeling everyday, he didn't have the slightest idea. He was going to a warm bed after this, at least, and Bucky would get to the great solitude of his thoughts.

No. Steve didn't understand shit.

“Don't look at me with that fucking face,” he exclaimed before he could stop himself. “Just leave.”

Bucky thought about that hurt expression on Steve's face for several days.

--

Two months later, somehow, you had convinced Bucky to attend one of your monthly meetings. It was so hard and yet so easy to make that decision, because you had gone all the way to his house and knocked on his door and asked him to come so many times that he couldn't say no just to avoid seeing your disappointed face.

And so it had come to that moment. That moment where everyone was booing Natasha and Bucky could tell by your huge smile that he hadn't gotten over you one bit. Two months without seeing you had been for nothing. That zero contact method surely only worked with teenagers.

As the laughter dissipated, Bucky thought about all he had been through and all he had suffered in silence. He hated that he couldn't hate anyone because everything that had happened was his fault. He hated every time he logged on to his text app and had to find himself in the group chat various messages about how Steve and you made such a great couple that neither of them could wait for you to get married.

Maybe Bucky complained too much.

Because the next thing he knew, everyone gathered around the table and you announced your engagement to Steve. When the table was again filled with shouts and applause, Bucky couldn't take his eyes off the giant ketchup stain on the table that Natasha had caused by getting too excited about the news. The envelope had been crushed by her hand, splattering its contents on that piece of the table and even on the shirts of those nearby. But no one really cared, because you and Steve were getting married. No one except…

... Bucky's weak and bruised heart, which despite the months could never stop beating just for you. Even though he tried, for his sake, for the sake of your friendship, for the sake of being happy for his best friend, he simply could not. It was a losing battle for him from the start. Ever since you showed up in his front yard in that blessed white flowered dress you were wearing now to deliver that news, and you smiled gratefully at him with the same smile you had now as you were encircled by Wanda and Tony's arms.

Bucky wanted to say that he'd grown accustomed to the pain that accompanies a broken heart, but the truth was that it never got easier. Every time he felt that pain, he prayed he wouldn't have to feel it again, because the pain that followed was so much stronger, so much so that he felt it suck the air out of him and a hollowness made its space inside his chest.

Bucky was really struggling to keep his composure at that moment.

But when he looked away from the large ketchup stain on the table, he met Steve's eyes, and somehow he knew. Bucky knew that he knew. However it was, coincidence or fate, Bucky realized that Steve knew what was going through his head.

And, for some reason, Steve didn't look angry.

But Bucky wasn't taking that pressure. Feeling invisible hands suffocating him.

So he barely mumbled an apology to him and ran out of the house.

His intention was to make it to the safety of his house, but his legs only gave out until he found his motorcycle parked in front of the future husband and wife's house.

His breathing was heavy, rapid and ragged. Of all the heartbreaks, that one was perhaps the most painful.

“Bucky?”

Hearing your voice behind him as he tried to fight the anxiety of not crying, not that moment, not in that place, not when it could be so obvious to you, was like a bucket of cold water. He suddenly felt alert, uncovered.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You ran out of the house.”

Although he tried to avoid it, the first thing he saw when you stepped around him to face him was the large ring that was now part of you. It was beautiful and delicate, Steve had made a good choice.

“I was overwhelmed for a moment. The screaming and stuff,” he gave you a lousy excuse, but it seemed to convince you enough.

“Oh, sure, I'm sorry. Do you want me to make you some tea? I've got a soothing one.”

“No,” Bucky shook his head quickly. “No need. I'd better go to my place.”

“So soon?”

Bucky looked into those deer eyes he loved so much and it hurt so much to think that would be the last time he saw them.

“Yeah, I'll feel better there. Don't worry.”

“Text me if you need anything.”

“Sure,” he wasn't going to. “Ah, congratulations on the engagement.”

Bucky was going to leave it at that, at a few simple words he tried to say with his heart in his hand, but you went further and jumped in to hug him by wrapping your arms around his neck. He felt dizzy for a moment.

“If it wasn't for you I never would have met him. Thanks, Buck.”

Bucky swallowed hard to keep from collapsing right there in your arms.

“Sure.”

“And to think I thought I'd end up with you,” you blurted out with a chuckle, as if it was nothing, as you backed away from his body, as if you hadn't just dropped a bomb on his face.

Bucky went cold.

“What?”

You laughed again, as if it was nothing more than a funny anecdote from adolescence or college. His chest heaved from the pain, his heart pounding so hard he felt it behind his ears. Hands sweaty, he didn't feel ready to listen to you.

“When we first met I liked you, Bucky, and I thought maybe we could work something out… But then I met Steve and it was… Wow, like fireworks.”

“Ah.”

“I guess things really do happen for a reason.”

“Yeah, right,” Bucky replied on automatic, afraid that any distraction would give him a glimpse, trying to even out his breathing.

“Well, you know, text me if you need anything.”

“Yeah.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

“See you at the wedding, huh.”

“Sure.”

Bucky followed you with his eyes as you walked back to your driveway, where Steve was waiting for you. His gaze lit up as much as yours every time he saw you and the lump in Bucky's throat kept getting bigger and bigger. He couldn't be one second closer to that house.

But then you walked into the house and Bucky met Steve's gaze.

He started to get on his bike as his best friend started walking towards him.

“Why didn't you ever say anything?”

Bucky remained sitting on the bike, helmet in his hands.

“I'm not going to talk about this with you now, Steve.”

“No, Bucky, you're not going to do this again. Answer me.”

“Steve…”

“Answer me!”

Bucky turned to see his friend's contracted face and knew where his anger was coming from. It wasn't against him, it wasn't against his feelings.

“I just… I couldn't do it.”

“And that's all?”

“Yeah, that's all,” Bucky started the bike. “I couldn't say anything when I saw you smile for the first time in months. Not when you actually looked happy after everything you went through.”

“What I went through? What we went through, Bucky! We both suffered through it and you… you…”

“Whatever it is, Steve, it's over. The time is past. It's all behind us.”

“Bucky…” Steve slurred the words, incredulous, pained to see his best friend allowed to suffer like that. In deep pain because he knew if it had been the other way around he would have done the same.

“I'll be fine. Send me the invitation to the wedding. I promise I'll be there, if you want me there. And I'll be fine by then. I'll be fine.”

Bucky finally put on the case and without waiting for final words from Steve, he took off riding to an aimless destination.

He didn't know if he would be better by the time the wedding happened, because thinking about it at that moment made the tears run desperately down his cheeks, even though the wind dried them very quickly, just as they were replaced by others and others.

Bucky had no idea if he would ever be well again, but he had to try. He had to try because at that moment he felt like he would die.

[linksthoughtbrambles]

The Shade, the Cloud, and the Sunrise

@Mailrebel, thanks for the ask! Tumblr ate my answer, but it was the prompt "sunrise" for TP Zelink. This first part is 2K words and the next is partially written. I am very excited about where this story is going in my head. I hope you enjoy it! It's also here on ao3.

This fic was also partially inspired by these lyrics from "Cloudbusting" by Kate Bush: I still dream of Orgonon I wake up crying You’re making rain And you’re just in reach When you and sleep escape me. You’re like my yo-yo that glowed in the dark What made it special made it dangerous So I bury it And forget. But every time it rains You’re here in my head Like the Sun coming out I just know that something good is gonna happen I don’t know when But just saying it could even make it happen.

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

Chapter 1: I Still Dream

Sleepy Ordon creaked with the early footfalls of morning, squeaking as doors swung on reluctant hinges, Fado’s grumble and the plunge of his bucket into the stream as integral to the village as its horse-grass and goats, as its children nestled in their beds where they belonged—safe, and still sleeping.

Link sat on the largest rock near the base of the central path’s gentle slope and listened to his home stumble its familiar path toward wakefulness.

It was easy to know everything was alright. From baby Cora cooing in her cradle to the cuccos’ increasingly impatient clucking, each sound held a carelessness only possible in times of peace.

Everything was right with the world again.

Everything except Link.

He’d closed his eyes against the light, but it found him anyway—so he opened them and looked to the trees, dark against the rose of dawn, shimmering in a restless wind. It was a mistake.

There she was, like the Sun coming out, golden at the edge of some unknown horizon, a beacon in his every waking moment and every dream, so bright the world itself faded from view to leave only her.

He snapped his eyes shut.

The thoughts just kept coming.

It wasn’t even thinking, really. It was visions.

He was having visions of the Princess.

And it was even more than that. Feelings kept erupting in his chest, boiling in his blood, like his body was living a life somewhere else without him—he got to feel all of it, but he never knew why. In some far-away realm, intense joy, longing, loss, and heartbreak were happening on their own and finding him, and he kept getting paralyzed holding an Ordon goat’s horn, trembling while it bleated in his face and tried to get away again.

Whatever was wrong with him, it couldn’t be the Twilight. That cord was cut.

Right?

Besides—the Princess was right here, in Hyrule. And somehow, he knew those inexplicable, blindsiding  emotions also came back to her, like she was always in the corner of his eye waiting for him to turn and look whenever they took hold. She’d be the mirror that showed him wherever he really was, why he felt what he felt.

He wished he didn’t feel it—and he hadn’t turned to look.

He risked a peek up the hill. A quirked puff of smoke left the chimney on Ilia’s squat house. She had to be awake—Bo was never the first one up. The smoke seemed to rise with the falling of Link’s heart. At least this time he knew why, but Goddesses help him, he wished he didn’t. He tried to see Ilia smiling at him in his mind’s eye, but it changed like it kept doing and what the hell was it all for? If his promises didn’t mean anything, what did that make him? It would’ve been better if she didn’t remember him.

Link slouched and watched a beetle crawl curiously into the bowl of a bouncing buttercup, disgusted with himself.

He wished again for Midna. She’d have set him straight.

What’s the matter? she’d say with a snaggle-toothed grin. Who’d imagine a divine beast could look so mopey? She’d pat his back and lean in to whisper something droll in his ear—or maybe scathing, but either way it would make sense.

Link could hear her sing-song drawl, but he couldn’t make out the words. She wasn’t there, and he wasn’t smart enough to find them on his own.

--

A radiant cloud crested the treetops, orange and honeysuckle floating somewhere near a city in the sky no other living Hylian had ever seen, but Link’s sense of wonder had seeped from him on his journey home to Ordon all those months ago.

Now, with Epona’s steps retracing the path toward castle town, he’d hoped for some revival, or at least a flutter of relief in his chest. He was doing what the visions wanted, after all. Wasn’t he?

Maybe the issue was what everyone else wanted.

“You’re what?” Ilia’d asked, somewhere between a gasp and a whisper, staring at him with owl-eyes and a fist curling at the center of her chest.

“I’m leaving,” Link said. “At- at least for now.”

She just shook her head. Then she shook it harder.

“It’s hard to explain,” Link said.

“I didn’t ask you to,” she said, her voice returning with a frown. “I guess you’ll take Epona.” The frown deepened as her face began to flush.

Link fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. At the very least, he’d get a scolding. At most, she’d-

“I should’ve expected it,” she snapped, stepping past him to stalk through the tall grass between them and the fence.

He’d never seen her so upset. She wouldn’t let him lift her over the fence like he always did.

Bo and Rusl hadn’t been any happier, but they’d seemed less surprised.

“It’s hard,” Rusl said, “once you’ve got the taste for adventure.”

Link had tried to explain he didn’t care about that at all. Rusl just gave him a sad half smile and sighed.

He’d also officially bequeathed Link the sword and shield now on his back.

“The sword was meant as a royal gift, anyway,” Rusl said. “Might as well take it with you.”

“I’ll present it to- to the royal family,” Link said. “Like I was supposed to.”

Rusl’s eyes glittered as they flicked between Link’s. “I’d say you’ve earned them, Link.”

“Not up to me.”

Link had the distinct impression Rusl had held something back behind his grimace. He wondered if he’d ever find out what it was.

Epona tossed her head lightly with a nicker. Link’s hand went to her mane by instinct. “Shh, girl. Sorry. Can’t help thinking about it.”

He tried to watch the forest roll by him instead. The insistent tug on him hadn’t lessened at all—but his eyes, at least, seemed more trained on the present and less on the fantastical images he was surely mad to be seeking in reality. He’d told her no, for Godesses’ sake. She’d been ready to promote him straight to captain. What the hell did he think crawling back was going to look like?

“Hi Princess, I’ve been having visions of you glowing like the spirits of the springs. I figured I’d better come back and check on you.”

“Hi Princess. By any chance, have you been on fire lately?”

“Hi Princess. I changed my mind and would very much like a job, please.”

That last one might’ve been more like it, but also more like Ordon-him and less like the respectful person he should be in the presence of royalty.

“Greetings, Princess. I apologize for my indecision.”

Indecision? Indecisiveness? No, that wasn’t it. He was definitely being decisive right now. He’d just made a new decision, that’s all.

“Greetings, Princess. I’ve been taking time to think, and came to realize I would like to accept your offer to enter service as a Knight of Hyrule, if that possibility still exists. It would be my honor.”

That was better.

Was it still too Ordon? Did he need to be more formal?

Midna wouldn’t even have been helpful here. She’d have teased him too much.

“Greetings, Princess.”

Did “greetings” sound ridiculous?

“GREETings, PRINcess,” Midna would say with a haughty toss of her head. “Heheehee! You don’t know much about princesses, do you?”

He really didn’t.

He’d never have thought Midna was a princess. He’d never have thought princesses could be so irreverent, or so absolutely savage. But Zelda didn’t seem much like her, so that didn’t help him much.

The thought brought him up short. Zelda? If he started referring to her that way, he’d end up in the stocks.

Were there stocks?

Maybe there were only stocks in stories. And in Holodrum.

Link shook his head.

He didn’t know anything. He was supposed to be a village protector, a goatherd, and an amateur babysitter. He’d never bothered learning much about foreign affairs, or even domestic ones until recently (and forcibly).

At least he knew there was a dungeon—not that he wanted to end up there, either. And he damn well could if he kept feeling the things he was feeling. He supposed it could go either way. Whatever sorcery had him by the ribcage could calm down when it got what it wanted or it could double down and demand more. That would be a serious problem.

But the visions had to mean something. Right?  There had to be a reason some visceral instinct demanded he seek the Princess—something other than a strange, sudden obsession with the one surviving member of the royal family.

He let out a long, slow breath cooled between pursed lips.

Then he started again.

“Salutations, Princess.”

…No.

--

Zelda opened her eyes to her darkened canopy, veiled by night and the shadow of her dreams.

Tears slipped down her temples.

He and sleep had escaped her once more.

She allowed the cacophony of losses to pool in her eyes in the dark. No one of them could be blamed for the flood: not her people, her father, her allies, or autonomous command over her own body—not her own perspective as her dreams waxed more real than the stark light of a sunlit noon—not even the loss of the man who had freed her, whose shadow grew longer and longer in her dreams, stretching out from the edge of the horizon, his vague silhouette wreathed in a setting sun even though it hadn’t happened that way. Each night brought some new vision of him slipping from her life in a tangle of all the other sorrows.

She hardened her heart against herself.

In reality, they’d spent very little time in each other’s company. Strange that his loss should linger among those haunting her senses.

The tears  would leave a sign beside her, but they would dry before anyone arrived to see them. This was as it should be—for her, tears were and must always be the province of solitude.

She sat up, her jaw set, the satin sheets falling from her front. Slipping from beneath them felt as though through water instead: liquid—muffled. She stood, her bedside rug like the nebulous static at the edge of a thunderhead, the dressing gown she threw over her shoulders as formless to her as the Twilight, her fingertips running over her bedside table’s wood grain smooth and cold as ice. She’d have shivered if she could.

She took in these perceptions and knew them to be false.

She could not unfeel them.

She could not unfeel the fathoms of grief over goodbyes she’d never even said.

But she was the Princess.

She was Hyrule’s one heir.

She could not ignore her other losses, for those were Hyrule’s as well as hers.

Yesterday’s report flickered to awareness—of the creeping incursion on Holodrum’s border, of the Labrynnian ships making bold ventures into the waters off the northeastern shore.

She stepped onto her balcony and faced the precise direction of the sunrise. It was no longer at a perfect parallel with the edge of the castle to the east. The equinox had passed in the Twilght’s veil. Zelda stepped to the edge, resting her fingertips on the stone and peering around her tower, the rubble elsewhere in the keep nothing but indistinct outlines as she waited for the first paling kiss of blue above the distant treas.

She did not look south.

Longing had no business here.

She was the Princess.

She would see reality whether her senses wished her to or not, in defiance of her dreams and their wish to invade her waking moments.

And Link…

She drew a sharp breath, her set jaw pulling her features tight.

Link was free to live the life he wished—the peaceful life he had more than earned.

His shadow, it seemed, would live within her.

---

Read chapter 2 here