#i am. trying my best to recall my last birthday and nothing seems to be coming up so. do with this what you will. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

boba-beom · 2 years ago

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ᥫ᭡⋆｡˚⊹ I Like U (sorry, I never meant to) | part 1 — 'don't drop her!'

pairing: beomgyu x gn!reader

genre: fluff, romance | non-idol au, strangers to friends to ???

synopsis: after meeting one of your best friend’s friends, you initially found him attractive and thought he’d be a careless crush that would soon dissipate into nothing. that is, until a series of events proved you wrong and perhaps those feelings lingered longer than they should have. would something become of it?

warning(s): slice of life, slow burn(ish), mentions of food, physical affection, bickering, more mentions of star signs, I will try my best to make it as gender neutral as possible as some parts are based off from my perspective. if there's anything I've missed, let me know!

wc: 3.2k

a/n: this celebration I am referring to is very big in the filipino culture. it's called a philippine 'debut' (deh-boo). it's to celebrate one who is coming of age, entering adulthood as a young woman.

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5 months have passed since your first interaction with Beomgyu. however, it was not the last time you had interacted. after you accepted his follow request and followed him back on instagram, you've been going back and forth liking each other's stories, recommending songs and sharing playlists with each other after you found out he also listens to the same niche artist as you. you may have overreacted, but none of your friends knew the artist until you saw his story with your favourite song posted to it.

to think that this happened over the course of the summer vacation, you were almost unfazed that you would be meeting him again for Tara's birthday. almost. you were extremely excited to visit the island again, after discussing Tara's 18th birthday celebrations, along with receiving her invitations through the post. you told yourself that all thoughts unrelated to Tara's birthday were to be pushed to the back of your head, making sure that this was going to be unforgettable and you wanted to prioritise that.

Tara has always been one to be interested in star-gazing, knowing things about star signs; whether she can guess people's star signs based off of their personality traits, or even upon first or second meeting.

you recall the facetime call you had with your best friend just a couple of days before your trip to the island. she had asked a huge favour from you — which was to help with the decorations. after knowing Tara for more than half of your life you know that they will go above and beyond when it comes to celebrations. be it weddings, birthdays, anniversaries, seasonal holidays; her and her family will do the most and it's their branding at this point.

now that you're back on the island again, you've missed everything about it. the greenery of the fields, trees arching over roads creating beautiful tunnels by nature, the fact that your best friend lives by the beach and how beautiful it would be to watch the sunrise and set with the sound of the waves rolling over the shell beach.

"hey, we've got guests coming over just after lunch. we can decorate later this evening, is that okay with you?" Tara wraps her arms around your shoulders, interrupting your gaze on your phone from the pictures of the sunrise you took earlier that morning.

"yeah that's no problem, need me to help you with anything?" you tilt your head to nudge her temple, responding to her affectionate gesture.

"actually, could you just finish the rest of those centre pieces, please?" you hum in response, "oh, and I heard Beomgyu's going to be on his way soon." she shrugs, walking out of the living room to call her other friends to discuss the time for cotillion practice.

Beomgyu. it's been a while since you've seen the name, let alone hear it. you wonder if it'll be a little awkward seeming as the last time you spoke was mid summer. there's not a lot you know about this guy, really, other than the fact that his texts are completely opposite to how he is in person; pretty dry.

pushing those thoughts aside, you pick up the glue gun and start gluing a small assortment of three to four blue and yellow roses in the small glass, cylindrical centre pieces. each centre piece had table numbers handwritten in pretty cursive handwriting, remembering that it must have been by one of Tara's friends.

each cylinder had mini battery-operated fairy lights, pulling the vision together. though there were several elements left for the remaining decorations. the completed ones were starting to look really pretty altogether.

you gather the completed centre pieces and place them in a brown cardboard box, ready for the next batch until you hear the familiar tone of Tara's voice greeting someone by the front door.

"hey Beomgyu, you're super early." you hear her laugh, "y/n's inside, you remember them, right?"

"of course." he says, walking in and making brief eye contact with you sitting on the carpeted floor.

your eyes widen slightly, brows raised and unexpected to meet him again. his hair has started to grow a little longer compared to the last time you saw him. the front pieces of his hair just about grazing his brows, and the back just touching the bottom of his nape.

"y/n?" he calls out, snapping you out of whatever it was that you were stuck in momentarily, "I asked if you need any help?" now he's sitting in the armchair by the window.

"oh. no I'm good, almost done anyway. Thank you though." you politely smile up at him, watching him take his phone out of his pocket and turning it on.

"suit it yourself." he shrugs nonchalantly, his eyes leaving yours and onto his phone's screen. you scoff a little, ignoring his response.

it was silent in the living room for almost an hour, just the occasional mini conversations between you and Tara, or Tara and Beomgyu talking about certain points of the cotillion. they were partners after all.

once you've finished with the remaining smaller decorations, you stand up to stretch before walking over to start the final decoration — Tara's name decor — which was to be placed by the display near the front inside the venue. it was her first name along with her middle name, and although they weren't long, you were aware that the process would be. having to sketch out her name in cursive, then to paint it in gold and to glue gold glitter all over it.

Beomgyu, on the other hand, started the large '18' cardboard cutout with collage photos of Tara from the photoshoot that she took a couple of months back. the pictures were beautiful, especially the few from the beach. she was standing where the mini waves were just touching her feet while she was wearing a long, black chiffon-layered dress with a spaghetti-strap. the sunset in the background created a pretty silhouette with the layers of the chiffon dress blown in the wind, and you were then starting to realise that your best friend is about to be a young woman. the thought of that was almost enough to make you emotional. almost. there's still two more days until the big day.

you start on the sketching, outlining the letters on the A1 styrofoam board, until you hear Beomgyu playing some songs from what you thought was the playlist he recommended to you. you pause for a second or two, trying to figure out which song it was and it was one of the first songs that you recommended to him months ago. smiling to yourself, you assume he compiled songs from both playlists and created a new one after listening further in the playlist.

"Beomgyu, y/n, I need you here." Tara calls after you both, her brows are scrunched up and eyes narrowed at the screen of her laptop as she watches a cotillion choreography that she's inspired from.

the sandy, blonde-haired male looks over at you, his head tilting towards Tara, essentially letting you get up and go to her first. he follows after, trailing a little behind you as you take the seat beside Tara while Beomgyu stays standing behind the both of you, just about leaning over your head.

"okay so," she starts, "I'm thinking of adding an extra move, but it's just at the very end." you watch the video as she presses play and observe the way the debutant's partner gave her a few twirls before preparing to lift her by the hip, then doing half a turn while the debutant was lifted.

you notice the way Tara pouts as she pauses the video and looks over to you and Beomgyu. your brows almost knit together, thinking that it would add a nice touch to the end of the cotillion, but realistically this was all in Beomgyu's hands. literally.

"personally, I think it would look really nice. and I know for a fact that your dress is going to look beautiful during that turn." you replay the video as the three of you rewatch it and notice the way the debutant's dress flows slightly in the air, almost in slow motion. it also reminds you of that one picture from the photoshoot and you were so sure that they'd regret it if they don't try it out.

"I don't know. the debut is in two days and tomorrow we're literally going to be spending the day to decorate the venue, and then—"

"Beomgyu, calm down, you haven't even tried it yet." you turn around and look up at him rolling his eyes at you. "try it out before the rest arrives for practice."

"y/n, are you being for real right now?" his lips twist, he's not convinced just yet, you think.

"come onnnn, Beomgyu try it out~" you sing song, "for Tara." you put your arm over your best friend's shoulders, bringing her in closer while she pouts at him.

it's always hard for Beomgyu to turn Tara down for anything. you'd think their relationship is pretty tight, but as they grew up together and being only two years apart they have that sibling energy about them. Tara is Beomgyu's weak spot, and this is the first time you've witnessed it.

"okay, fine." he sighs, defeated, but you see him smile over to Tara while ruffling the top of her head. you had no clue that you had been staring at the interaction between them for a second too long until Beomgyu calls out your name again. "you need to make sure I do it properly, I'm doing this for Tara." his voice was a little stern towards you, but it didn't bother you too much. he sounded quite defensive over the fact that he isn't doing this because you convinced him to, but you knew that that was exactly the reason why.

Tara makes her way out the back door into the garden, it was big enough to fit six pairings for the cotillion. to your surprise, she's only just told you that they have been practicing for three weeks and they only managed to remember everything the week that had just passed.

you sit on the stool by the door, facing the garden as you wait for the two to get into position for the ending of the cotillion. the pair face each other for a couple of seconds before Beomgyu twirls Tara twice, preparing for the lift. he lifts her hip onto the side of his leg, attempting to pivot in place for the turn with the other leg, but they stumble a little and Beomgyu lets go of Tara. you stand up as quick as you can to catch Tara from tripping forward and falling over.

"don't drop her!" you shout at Beomgyu. he looks at you with bland eyes, deadpan towards you.

"well, this was your idea, right?" he huffs. "I'd like to see you try."

"am I her partner?" you retort, your hands still holding onto Tara's forearm while she stands properly.

"guys, it's fine. Beomgyu, let's try again." Tara looks directly into your eyes and then Beomgyu after, her way of getting the both of you to stop arguing.

after a few attempts of the ending routine, it eventually got better to the point Tara wanted to try it out along with the music to make sure they get the timing right. you also suggest to take a video so they can review it after and they both agree. your index finger hovers over the space bar, patiently waiting for Tara to indicate when to press play.

you watch them do the routine once more until the crucial part came about, "okay, and now!" you shout as soon as the music reaches the part where the lift starts.

you watch beomgyu lift Tara steadily with a clean landing — no stumbling over or minor trips in sight. the music fades as it ends and you end the video before applauding them while you make your way toward them.

"see, I knew you could do it." you nudge Beomgyu, passing him the phone and notice the corners of his lips twitch upwards as he watches the successful move.

Tara's pleased to say the least, looking over at the phone at the same time and giving you the biggest smile.

"I know I'm terrible at thinking of things and adding things last minute, but I think that was one of my best ideas." she crosses her arms, proud of the decision she made regardless of the trouble it caused, especially between you and Beomgyu.

"yeah, you're lucky your partner was eventually convinced to do it." you tease.

"okay, okay. I get it. at least we've got that sorted out now." Beomgyu sighs, not amused with you repeating how you were right.

after heading back inside the house, you check the time and it's still early for the rest of Tara's friends to arrive for the practice. thinking of getting food before they arrive was the best idea, but Tara was called to have a dress rehearsal in case of any more altering. so it was down to you and Beomgyu to go and get food.

༺ ༻

you were grateful that the weather was good for a nice walk; the air was mildly warm with the smallest bit of breeze blown through your hair every now and then.

following Beomgyu in silence wasn't as bad as you thought. he walks in front of you, and you notice the wire of his white earphones dangling out of his pocket while he had the other in his ear.

"what song are you listening to?" you spoke up a little quieter than you expected. luckily you were just around the corner to the pizza shop, so you both stop once you cross the narrow, one way road.

"over eighty-five." he glances at you, holding eye contact for what felt like a minute to you and turns around to walk into the pizza shop.

he left you dumbfounded, remembering that that was the song that started the whole exchanging songs ordeal. you mindlessly blink at the shop front a couple of times before following suit, waiting behind him as he orders four boxes of pizzas for the group later on.

his voice is gentle when he talks to the owner of the shop. there's a lot of people in this part of the island, and everyone knows each other, if not, know of each other.

the way they exchange in conversation seems like he comes here often, the middle-aged man laughs at a bit and you see how endearing it was to see the interaction.

nevertheless, you had to set aside that it could potentially be the fact that the leo in Beomgyu is loving the attention, or it could even just be the big heart in him. either way, quietly observing them kept you entertained until he walked toward you, waiting beside you.

"Beomgyu?" your voice a little louder this time compared to earlier. he turns his head towards you, raising his brow with a hum. he isn't as firm as he was earlier, and he could physically see your shoulders relax in the smallest way possible. "can we go see that coffee shop that we walked past on the way here?"

to his surprise, that was not what he was expecting. he can sense that you've been tip-toeing around him since he arrived at Tara's house, but that doesn't mean he doesn't like you.

"yeah, we can do. we'll take the shortcut there, it'll be quicker on the way back too." he flashes you the same gentle smile he gave you the first time you met, and you notice a small dimple that disappeared not even in a fraction of a second. kinda cute.

༺ ༻

as soon as the pizzas were ready, the shop owner bids the both of you goodbye with a polite smile. you and Beomgyu split the pizza boxes to carry them back while you take up a different route, again, leaving it up to the island boy.

"how long are you staying this time anyway?" he asks you, half turning his head to face you but also making sure he watches where he's walking.

"oh, we're leaving the day after Tara's birthday. so not long, really." you reply with a shrug that he wasn't able to see anyway. you had hoped to stay longer than last time, but it was just about the same amount of days.

"I see." you almost miss his response with his quiet voice, along with a car that had driven past the both of you. but you wonder why he asked, though you knew he was probably curious like the others.

"is Soobin coming for the cotillion practice?" you remembered Soobin abruptly, he was more approachable compared to Beomgyu from the first time you met, and you remember everything clearly.

"yeah." there he is with the short responses again. you almost thought you had somewhat managed to get through to him, but it's going to be tricky with someone like him. you can't read him just yet and you're curious whether it's the same for everyone or it's just a 'you thing'.

after walking for a few more silent minutes, you see the cute, rustic coffee shop that caught your eye from earlier. this time, you were able to scan through the menu that's hung up outside on a brown clip board, reading out the set menu and the coffee of the day.

you balance the piled pizza boxes on your hip as you take your phone out to take a quick photo. Beomgyu doesn't hesitate to take the boxes from your hold and pile it on top of his.

your brows raise from the action, looking up at him with a smile followed after. "oh, thanks."

"just so the pizza won't fall. we have people to feed." his response was blunt but you still thanked him for the gesture. he faces to the side while he waits for you to finish taking your pictures, but you couldn't ignore the way the sun shines over him and some shadows from the lamppost lay over him.

you love taking photos in general. some say you're talented and you should be a photographer, but you just find it as a hobby and you don't want to take that fun aspect away.

finding a photogenic subject with a beautiful background was not easy to find, until you turn around to see exactly that. you had no second thoughts to take a picture or two of Beomgyu's side profile — to which you were extremely fascinated by — only capturing from his shoulders and up.

"let's go? I think they'll be there soon." Beomgyu speaks up, eyes meeting the sight of you holding your phone up and facing him, causing you to swiftly tuck your phone back into your pocket and reach out for the two boxes that Beomgyu took from you.

he turns quickly, so you miss and briefly grab nothing but the air where you were initially reaching out for.

"it's okay. I got it." is all he says before he continues walking in the direction of a different shortcut. a smile is twitching upon his lips as he senses you trailing behind him in confusion. if there's something you didn't know about him, it's that he's extremely observant, and his peripheral vision never fails him.

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twobraincellkentwell · 1 year ago

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Conditions of Death

[A Game Called Revenge]

Part One

Series Masterlist Part Two

Summary: Clio's revenge has been planned out perfectly ever since the words existing victors left the president's mouth. Nothing will go wrong and everyone she will finally get what they deserve. For revenge is a dish best served drenched in the blood of those who try to stop you.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the nature of content in some of the chapters. Not really any warnings relevant for this chapter except if you count President Snow. He deserves his own warning.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This is my shortest chapter but a quick introduction to Clio (and AU Cato) who is my baby after writing her for the longest time! I have no upload schedule yet but I am hoping for maybe once a week or fortnight? Lemme know what you think :)

The last time there was a Quarter Quell, Clio hadn't even been born yet. She had never sat down and watched President Snow announce to the nation the conditions of death. One of her earliest memories is sitting between her father's legs, her sister between their mother's, eyes fixed on the small television screen in their muted living room as the sixty-second Hunger Games begins. She can recall being fascinated by the blinding shimmer of the clothes that the Capitol citizens wore, and how different and otherworldly they seemed when compared to the tributes', and the fabrics worn by the women in two. Horrified but also intrigued by the incredibly violent end to the summer of viewing; an exhausted young girl using her teeth as her deadliest weapon.

Her parents enrolled her into the Peacekeeper Preparatory School in the September of that year, five months after her fifth birthday; living and training five days per week in giant training halls while being taught how to read in between her session times. All her spare minutes were split between improving her stamina, her fitness levels and her fighting technique with the occasional weekend spent teaching herself about the stars, admiring the sky as it twinkled in the shadow of the mountains.

She wonders, as Cato fidgets with the settings on the television, if the announcement of the latest Quarter Quell makes him think of his childhood the way it makes her think back to hers. Whether it causes Enobaria, whose house three doors down remains undisturbed, to reflect on her games; whether it leads Brutus to think back to the last quell, since he was secure in his status as a victor by then; whether they each look back on the important moments of their lives as the nation anticipates this year's twist.

The television displays Caesar Flickerman, decked in bright orange, hosting a press release surrounding the Victory Tour of the 74th games. Clio is not surprised at the way he fawns over the two new victors from twelve, and she's not surprised that they don't air the footage of their visits to Two and Eleven; clips from Four and Five are also missing from the reel as the footage jumps about. She'd heard about the unrest that occurred in Eleven after their speech, about the riots that broke out in the streets after she solemnly reflected on her relationship with the fallen female tribute. She'd witnessed her own distrust in the both of them in Two. Having met the most recent victors only twice and both only briefly, she doesn't trust the two of them as far as she can throw them. Something about their attitude rubs her the wrong way. It follows with footage of a wedding dress shoot for none other than Katniss Everdeen herself. Nauseated, Clio reaches for a sip of water before settling back on the sofa.

Suddenly, Panem's anthem blares from the television, and Cato is beside her on the sofa offering her his hand. The camera pans away from Caesar and onto President Snow who stands behind an ornate rostrum and grimaces as he begins to address the nation.

"Ladies and gentleman," He begins as the crowd erupts with cheers. "Since its conception, the Hunger Games has served to honour the memory of those who perished in the uprising against our nation's Capitol. In addition to the traditional games that have been held for seventy-four consecutive years, we acknowledge and mark the quarterly anniversary of the uprising with the Quarter Quell."

They listen intently as Snow continues highlighting the significance of the previous quarter quells. "On the twenty-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to any remaining rebels that their choice to incite violence on the Capitol, each district was made to cast votes to elect the tributes sent to represent them."

Clio and Cato glance out of the bay window in the row of occupied houses of Victor's Village. Several of District Two's tributes had emerged victorious prior to the twenty-fifth year. They would have not only been forced to watch this announcement but to vote on that decision. Not that this would have particularly impacted districts One or Two; their training programmes had been active by then. Granted, they wouldn't have been as sophisticated as in recent years but they existed nonetheless. Clio imagines that the decisions would have been much worse for Panem's poorer districts. She's never directly inquired about the how tributes sent in to the first Quarter Quell were decided amongst the career districts but with the training academies already established she's almost certain that the strongest in their class were picked as usual. And with the win secured by a man from Two, one if the oldest mentors in the Academy, she knows she probably should get round to asking him.

The two revert their attention to the screen as Snow carries on addressing the nation. "On the fiftieth anniversary, as a reminder that two rebels died per Capitol death, the districts were required to send twice as many tributes into the games."

Clio can remember the tales she was told about the punishment dealt to the districts for the uprising. The stories of the picturesque fields that served as a battlefield for forty-eight teenagers in the fiftieth year; every inch of the arena as deadly as it was poisonous. The accounts of dishonour explained by the academy's trainers; immense career bloodshed at the expense of their district partners, the tributes treated as disgraces to their District for killing your district partner is the second most important rule in the Academy.

"Now, time to honour our third Quarter Quell."

The camera zooms out, a young boy clad in white stepping forward to offer the wooden box containing the single envelope which holds this quell's rules. President Snow removes the envelope from the box, allowing the boy to slice the red wax seal on the envelope with a solid gold letter opener.

There is silence in both the Capitol, and likely in most households in Panem. The nation holds its breath as they await the fate that befalls their children. The president's eyes scan the paper whilst the letter is opened, as he continues his speech.

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the capitol." He pauses for dramatic effect, looking directly into the camera, "On this, the third quarter quell game, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each district."

Clio's mouth drops open. It takes a few minutes for the words to sink in and for her to realise the gravity of the situation. Existing pool of victors means there's a chance she has to go back in that arena. Victors means there will be no volunteers this time. "When I said I'd do it again, I didn't mean like this." She whispers to herself.

She knows she has about a one in five chance of returning into an arena. District Two has five female victors. Twenty percent, she thinks. The more she lets herself dwell on her chances, the more rage she feels building up inside of her. Pushing herself to stand, she reaches towards the vase filled with white roses sitting on the glass coffee table in the centre of her living room, she launches it at the wall with much more force than necessary. The coffee table doesn't last much longer either; the item nearest to Cato is driven through the glass table top, shattering it all over the floor as he rises to his feet.

She can hear doors being flung open all throughout Victor's Village, and the sound of chatter outside grows louder as the victors file out into the cul-de-sac; migrating towards the dark, wrought iron gates at the bottom of their little village. Each of the victors have left their pure-white painted mansions by now, except the two latest victors who remain at a stand-still as they look at each other.

Forcing herself to calm her breathing, she takes a gulp from her crystal glass and finds herself moving towards the door. As soon as the couple emerge from the mansion, a series of small shuffling sounds can be heard as the other victors swarm around the two. Clio surveys them all and her stomach drops as clarity gives her a sinking feeling. She's suddenly so aware of why Snow decided on having victors re-represent the Districts; and who he's going to have represent District Two.

"I don't want anyone volunteering for me." She calmly expresses, silencing the pack of victors nearby as she swallows. She's lying though. If anyone were to volunteer for her she wouldn't be opposed to it but she knows she has an image to maintain, a deadly reputation to upkeep.

"There's no way to say it will be you Clio." Brutus replies restlessly.

"There's loads of us to pick from." Lyme backs him up.

Clio sighs as she looks between the others, "They're going to want to make this year's games especially exciting." She pauses for a second, glancing at the mountains that loom over the district as she thinks about what the Capitol is trying to make happen this year. "They're eliminating all the rebels even if you aren't one. The only way to do that is to choose victors with a bond. Regardless of who goes in, we all know each other."

She watches as realisation registers in the faces of the crowd; how Brutus' brows furrow; how Enobaria's jaw clenches and how Cato's fingers intertwine with hers again. He doesn't vocalise his opinions on anyone volunteering in his place, and Clio finds her anger rising again at the thought of them having to compete together. They'd spent their entire lives building up to entering the Games together, learning each other's strengths and weaknesses from the age of eleven in preparation to kill each other to return back home; spared only by Enobaria coining them as the best tributes she'd mentored in years and convincing the others that it would be a waste of a victor to send the two of them in together. She's reminded of how she felt in the victors with a bond. Regardless of who goes in, we all know each other."

──────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────

Part Two. Series masterlist.

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shanicenessssssssss · 2 years ago

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Travel Tales Pt. 1

This thing started because I wanted to impress a man, yall.

Mid-December 2022, a few days after my birthday, I started flirting with a guy I knew for a few years and found fairly attractive, but never gave any energy to, and the first conversation we had was the spark that lit the match. The following is a snippet of said conversation:

Him - “I’m going to St. Lucia in a few days.” Me - “Make sure and visit Gros Islet and Rodney Bay, the marina is beautiful on a clear moonlit night. You see all the lights from the stars and the boats reflecting on the water and hear the waves slapping against the pier. It’s so calm and serene….” Him - “Hmmm… you’ve been everywhere, I can’t carry you anywhere new!” Me, intrigued - “I haven’t even scratched the surface on places I wanna go, especially in the Caribbean.” Him - “Where do you want to go next?” Me, thinking nothing of what I was saying, cuz I had no intention of actually going anywhere - “Jamaica maybe? Or Barbados, as it’s quite close to home (Tobago).”

Fast forward 4 months, I have my plane ticket to Jamaica in hand and am about to book my Airbnb in Ocho Rios. I am in no way encouraging anyone to do it this way, it is quite inadvisable to travel with someone who you have no real ties with. If you take anything away from reading this, it is that IT LITERALLY TAKES ONE DECISION.

I said yes that day in December. He intoxicated me with the idea of it being just a series of steps to get to the goal. No limits, no hesitation. Logistics would come later. It always seems impossible before you do it, before you take the first leap.

The last time I traveled was 2016 to the aforementioned St. Lucia, with my mom and daughter, who was a toddler at that time. If I’m not mistaken, the decision to go was somewhat similar, with me doing the convincing. Our saving grace was that a close relative was working on the island at the time, so accommodations and transportation was covered (and so expenses were lessened, hallelujah!). Basically, I think I’m due for a couple-hours long plane trip to a new place.

I’m making it sound rather click-bait-y, aren’t I? I haven’t said one thing yet about where the money being spent was coming from, and DUN-DUN-DUNNNN, if Mr. Mysterious is still my plus-one.

Let’s touch on the first part first - the finances.

I currently have a savings account in a local credit union with about $25K in savings, which was one of my savings goals. I am currently permanently employed, bringing in $50K a year before taxes, BUT I was living paycheck to paycheck until last year October, where I made my first official business investment that is bringing in an extra $2K a month, for at least the next year or so. While I have used some of that money to pay off the loan used to make the investment, some of that money was used to fund this trip. I also made the decision to allocate some of my salary towards the trip as well, instead of eating too much into the investment returns. More on this later.

I had identified the PERFECT travel time. I pat myself on the back every time I think about how this played out. In T&T, there’s a public holiday on the 30th of May, and another one on the 8th of June in 2023. Recall that I am employed, and obviously that means I would want to exploit all public holidays (anytime a holiday fell on a Thursday, best believe I was coughing on the phone the Friday so I could be home for 4 whole days…cough cough). I also did some preliminary research on the island and I realized that the island was bigger than home (i.e. I couldn’t drive around the entire island in a day comfortably while sightseeing), so a short 3- or 4- day trip would leave me wanting, or extremely exhausted by trying to squeeze everything into such a short time. After conferring with Mr. Mysterious, I decided that a week-long stay was the sweet spot - enough time to explore some of the tourist-y things to do, while allowing for relaxation and regular life as well. Put those two together, and we get a full 7 days in Jamaica, a prep day before and a rest day after.

Things are falling into place so seamlessly! That only gave me further confirmation that this trip was supposed to happen. Nothing can stop me now! ……..*crickets*

Mr. Mysterious, who has been talking to me almost every single day since that fateful December day, suddenly ghosted me March-month end. No explanation, just radio silence. Granted, we had had a bit of a tiff concerning something unrelated right before the ghosting, but I don’t think it was serious enough to warrant THIS?! I wouldn’t know though, cuz he’s a ghost 👻. I can’t ask. I waited a few days, and sent a follow-up “Hope you are well” text, expecting a response at least, but I've been left on read till this day. I was shook, cuz the safety net I was banking on with this trip was that I wasn’t alone, so the burden of solo travel would be at least lessened. And he also was a seasoned traveler, the exact opposite to me, so that was another thing that made me breathe a bit easier. He knew the ins and outs of international travel and could guide me along. For the first few nights after accepting the disappointment of the absolute curry duck (Trini stale joke) I had just experienced, the trip loomed in front of me, again gigantic and seemingly impossible once again. All the insecurities I had silenced with a proud middle finger at the start of the journey came back up, cackling in my face: Can you even afford to go on this trip alone? How will you get around? You will be stuck in Jamaica for 7 whole days…what were you even thinking? Are you even still considering going, after this shake-up? The nasty chatter got louder in my head. I admit, I looked up whether I could get a full refund of my ticket (no), and if I could ask somebody, anybody to take Mr. Mysterious’ place (also no, that’s unreasonable).

So, I pulled up my big girl panties and made the big girl decision to do my first solo trip to Jamaica in June 2023. I mean, it would have happened eventually - I had put traveling on my vision board, BUT I didn’t expect God to drop me into the deep end like this?!! Damn!

On a more serious note, what I won’t do is question how things are playing out. I have learned long ago that even if things don’t work out exactly how I planned it to, things always work out in the end. Maybe I would be so caught up in building my future career that I won’t have time to travel as much as I like. Maybe this is exactly what I need to build some more confidence in myself and my abilities. Maybe this is what I need to clear out the fuzz in my head - time away from everything, in a hammock, spending much-needed alone time. It will be revealed to me why this happened when it happened, how it happened, in due time. I’m not even stressed or pressed. Also, I am on the last leg of my degree, and having put blood, sweat and tears into the last couple years, I convinced myself that I needed to reward myself for sticking with it and completing it. While an international trip was not on my list of things I thought up of for the celebration (it was more along the lines of a celebratory dinner at a nice restaurant with a few glasses of wine), I sold myself on the idea, as I was intoxicated by Mr. Mysterious’ siren song. I deserve!

Let me touch on some of the things I had the good fortune of having and utilizing in this prep time, leading up to the actual flight dates. Remember, planning had started a whole 6 months before, so I had allotted time for procrastination and plan changes. We’ll discuss Google Flights, using a calendar in a specific way, and what I plan to do.

I’m on a tight budget, and so my main issue was allocating my limited resources in the best way possible to be able to cover every essential. Before the ghosting situation, my main expenses were the plane tickets, and spending money (Mr. Mysterious gallantly offered to handle the accommodation costs). Google Flights had come in CLUTCH! The site has a calendar to see when the cheapest flights were, compared by dates, as well as the option to track flights’ price changes. AS I had already outlined the PERFECT travel dates, I just scrolled down to the dates, and lo and behold, the prices I saw were among the cheapest for the month. I had used the price tracking option, as I started accumulating funds for the purchase of the ticket. Things were chugging along well! No reason why something would go off-kilter, right? Right??

I remember vividly waking up one morning and seeing that the price of the ticket had become a few hundred dollars more expensive.

My heart dropped. I hadn’t gotten all the money at that time, and it was honestly discouraging to have to stretch my already-stretched budget to accommodate this extra expenditure. Nevertheless, she persisted. I had accumulated my $4k in cash, ready to buy tickets by early February. Sis was READY and DETERMINED. I had listened to a podcast that celebrated doing the Thing that involved one taking a giant step with no going backsies. That Thing for me was spending $4k on a trip. It seems silly and trivial now, but my heart was set on doing the Thing. My dreams were consumed by the fantasy excursions Mr. Mysterious and I were going to experience on this beautiful island. Then another confirmation that I was supposed to go on this trip - the airline I was planning to go with had a Valentine’s day sale:

This was it, yall. I was going to Jamaica. This was the sign from God I needed. And I didn’t even see it, it was Mr. Mysterious who sent me a screenshot from his IG feed. My heart sang for that entire week. I was going to Jamaica! I did the Thing, and bought my tickets on Valentine’s Day!

Going on in the background of all this was my 12-week planning on Notion. I had counted 12 weeks into the future from the week I decided to go in mid-December, and created a calendar with a task to complete for each week. These tasks included making a list of locations to visit when we got there, making lists of things to pack, things that I need to have organized before and during the trip, etc. This gave me the time I required to do any future-based thinking, grouped neatly into manageable segments so I wouldn’t feel overwhelmed when I sat and thought about things. I chose Notion simply because I had previous experience using the calendar when I was planning out semester tasks and due dates, and I had always found it to be very easy to use. Plus, you could decorate it. I had embraced my full “speak it into existence” self, and put up pictures and affirmations - a virtual vision board, if you will. Also, this 12-week spread would give me a couple ‘free’ weeks before the actual trip, instead of being exact with the timing. Maybe God knew what He was guiding me to do, cuz with this change in the plan, I would need some extra time to sort stuff out.

To be honest, I still don’t believe that Mr. Mysterious ghosted me. I keep oscillating between the reasoning that he probably has something major going on in his life and needs some time to himself, and the Bad Bitch alter-ego, looking down at him with a upturned nose, lumping him with all the other fuckboys I had the unfortunate luck of meeting and interacting with. The insecure baby girl inside of me has so many questions, mainly if I had done something wrong, but if I am to take my mental health and self-confidence journey seriously, I have to be okay with whatever happens around me, regardless of whether it is positive or negative in my perception. When I start overthinking about it, I stop and visualize myself being a boat in the middle of a vast ocean, in a thunderous storm. Waves as tall as houses are rocking me side to side, up and down, but I still stay afloat, above the waves. I stay confident that this storm will end, and I will complete the journey I planned to, in one piece. I am confident in God’s plan; when thing don’t go my way I stress a lil bit, then release my hold on the outcome I wanted, knowing better will come.

We have reached the point where we discuss the now. Yes, I lied about not being stressed or pressed. I am very much stressing and pressing. I now face some nail-biting, belly-hurting decisions. Best believe that I am not making light of the situation. I know it is so much more dangerous to be a female solo traveler. The decisions I choose to make have unknown consequences and repercussions that I have no clue is in my future. The travel blogs I’ve read seem to gloss over this fact, varnishing it with pretty titles such as “Do’s and Don’ts To Keep You Safe”, maybe because it is an ugly truth that danger is lurking no matter where you go.

Maybe I really do need the time away from the usual routine to view my life through fresh, new eyes. Maybe this really is the Thing I need to start off the rest of my life with. God knows I’ve been feeling hamster-wheel-y for the past few months. Maybe this will be the worst thing I will have ever done, a complete waste of money and time. Regardless of what the outcome is, if I am to experience it, I will. Being adaptable to change, instead of resistant to it may very well be the lesson I have to learn from this experience.

As of now, the most immediate pivot I have to make is that I have to tack on a few extra hundred US to cover Airbnb accommodations for the entire week, as well as more spending money as I have no ‘safety net’ in Mr. Mysterious anymore, per se. As I type this, I remember a quote I saw recently:

And with that, I bid you adieu. I will post an update when I get closer to The Date. Thanks for sticking with my dramatic ass till the end. I would LOVE to hear any tips for beginner solo traveling, and comment with more places that I can visit in Jamaica. I appreciate your love and support!

Kisses,

#solo travel #self care #jamaica #caribbean #travel #shenanigans

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cherienymphe · 4 years ago

Text

Bloodied Crowns (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, STEPCEST, murder, violence, abusive realtionships, Tony x reader, prince!Peter, king!Tony, queen!Reader

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ based off of this ask

summary: When your husband, King Anthony, is killed in a coup staged by his son from his previous marriage, Peter, you are forced to marry the young man who no longer feels the need to hide his feelings.

Peter was only eighteen when you married the king, the stern monarch losing his wife only a few months prior. The engagement and the wedding happened so quickly, and before you knew it, you were married to King Anthony Stark. Truth be told, you’d feared that you’d never marry at all, and that you’d bring shame to your name, but a stroke of luck, or perhaps misfortune, had put you directly into the king’s path.

Your family had attended the queen’s funeral to pay your respects. It had been drilled into you to catch the eye of an available suitor, as it had been many times before, and while you were disgusted that you could not even properly pay your respects to the royal family, you understood your parents’ desperation. You were twenty-eight with no prospects on the horizon. They had no other children, no sons, your mother unable to conceive after yourself, and so the weight of carrying on the family name was solely on your shoulders.

Your family was not poor by any means, but you were far from wealthy. That being said, your mother spent an outrageous amount to get you the most captivating black dress money could buy. It was not something that would draw too much attention, but enough so that you did not look like a grieving widow yourself. When it was your turn to pay your respects, you recalled bowing to the young prince, the brunette barely acknowledging anyone’s presence. It was rumored that he and his mother were close, that he’d taken her death very hard, and the way he seemed to stare right through you confirmed as much.

When you bowed to the king, apologizing for his loss, you could feel his eyes on you. This was nothing you concerned yourself with. After all, you were speaking to him and he you, but when you rose, you were taken aback by the intensity you found in his dark eyes. Where his son seemed to look through you, the king could not seem to take his eyes off of you. No one else seemed to notice, and, brushing it off, by the time you returned home, you had forgotten all about it.

Until a few days later when a royal guard was at your door. You were being invited to dine with the king, the invitation extending to your family as well, and although you were confused, you knew you could not refuse. Even if you wanted to. The dinner was nice, and you were a bit surprised at how easy it was to get along with the king. You never thought him cruel, but you’d heard that he was a rather stern man. After supper, he extended the invitation to staying at the castle so that you would not have to travel back so late in the evening. Your mother answered before you had the chance to, and it was no surprise to you that the answer was yes.

The castle was so different during the night. It seemed less welcoming and more ominous, and you found it hard to sleep that night. Convinced that the corridors would be empty, you quietly slipped from your chambers and made your way down to the kitchens. There were still a few servants lingering about, cleaning or preparing for the next day. You felt guilty for bothering them for something to drink.

“Nonsense, my lady. I would be more than happy to get that for you,” a younger girl by the name of Guinevere told you.

“Oh...please,” you waved her off. “No one is around. Call me Y/N.”

Her eyes seemed to sparkle as you told her your name, but she said nothing more as she gave you your water. The dark corridors did not scare you, but the eerie silence was a bit off putting, especially in such a grand structure. You had turned the corner to make your way back to your room when you bumped into none other than the prince. You had almost dropped the drink, and you placed your hand on your chest in an attempt to still your heart.

“Your highness. My apologies, I did not see…”

Your words died in your throat as the prince fixed you with a look that made your stomach churn. You snapped your mouth shut, swallowing as he simply glared at you, brown eyes looking so much darker. You had not seen him since the queen’s burial, and he did not look much better than he did then. Before you had a chance to say anything else, he had shoved past you, almost making you drop the goblet in your hand, and a low gasp escaped you as your other shoulder harshly met the wall. You turned to watch him go, shock and confusion pouring through you, wondering what you had done to offend him so.

It was only a few weeks later did you get your answer.

“I...I beg your pardon?”

The king reached for your hand, a soft breeze ruffling his dark hair as he brought it to his lips. They were soft as they brushed over your skin, and the corner of them curved upwards into a smile.

“Everything is already being arranged, but...this is my formal proposal. I need a queen, Peter needs a mother, and you are everything I could have hoped for,” he told you.

You stared at him in shock, feeling as if the world had been ripped out from beneath your feet. Your mind whirled as you tried to make sense of this and where this had come from, and suddenly, the puzzle started to piece together. The countless dinner invitations, the gleam in your parents’ eyes, the hushed conversations...the prince’s animosity. You were being courted by the king this whole time...and you’d been none the wiser. His chuckle pulled you from your thoughts.

“When your mother told me that you could be quite oblivious, I thought that it was a simple exaggeration.”

He found humor in your distress, you realized, and you swallowed.

“I do not know what to say,” you slowly breathed, and you watched him tilt his head at you, a frown beginning to form.

“You say yes,” he said with a scoffing laugh as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

You realized that to anyone else, it would be.

“Your majesty...I feel as if we’ve only just met. Surely, you would allow me time to think-.”

“Think about what?”

His hand tightened on yours, and you winced. He leaned in, genuine confusion in his dark eyes as he stared into your own.

“I am a king telling you that you are to be my queen...and you are hesitant?”

The severity of the situation suddenly dawned on you. Anthony was a king. You were a mere lady attempting to refuse his proposal for marriage, and your heart sank to your stomach. You blinked at him, and his face suddenly smoothed over as he sighed.

“Ah. I understand what this is about…”

“You do…?”

He softly smiled at you, reaching up to brush his thumb along your chin.

“You come from an acceptable background. You are beautiful and smart and kind. I assure you, this is genuine. This is not some poor attempt to cope with my grief. In all honesty, my marriage to the queen was over long before she died,” he told you.

You looked away, realizing that you were not getting out of this. Whether you liked it or not, you would be marrying the king, and with reluctance and a shaky voice, you accepted his proposal. He straightened when you did, a look of satisfaction on his features, and he looked as if he wanted to kiss you. You were thankful that he did not.

The wedding took place only a couple of months later, every nearby royal, and even some across the water, in attendance. It was a grand and beautiful affair, no expense spared, and it was days later that you found out it far outshined his first wedding. You remembered feeling sick as you walked down the aisle, the feeling only getting worse as your gaze met that of the prince.

In the time since the official engagement, you had interacted with the prince only a handful of times. Each time more disastrous than the last. You told yourself that he was grieving. His mother’s death was sudden and had hit him hard and here his father was, marrying again so soon. You did not fault him for his cold behavior. He was young, after all. You would expect nothing less, to be honest, but you could not lie and say that it did not hurt.

Unfortunately, even after the marriage, he did not soften towards you. Every attempt to get to know him was met with nothing short of loathing, and you finally accepted that he would come around in his own time. The last thing you wanted Peter to think was that you were trying to replace his mother. You did not know how long this would go on, but you did not expect it to be more than a year.

You were wrong.

“I throw that kid the best birthday celebration a nineteen year old could ask for and this is how he shows his appreciation? By not even having the decency to show up?”

Tony was angry as he sipped from his goblet, glaring down at the attendees dancing below. A wonderful number was being played by a string quartet, several single princesses in attendance, and an hour into the celebration, Peter was still absent. You placed your hand on your husband’s arm with a sigh.

“I am sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for it, Tony. He will show,” you tried to assure him.

His shoulders sagged as he slammed his drink down, and his eyes softened as he turned to you. He reached for you, and you flinched, but he paid it no mind as he brushed his finger along your cheek.

“You are far too nice to him...and he hardly deserves it,” he whispered.

“He’s your son,” you reminded him with a frown. “Do not talk about him like that.”

“He’s ungrateful,” he spat.

“He’s grieving,” you argued.

“It’s been a year,” Tony sneered. “How much time does he need?”

You sharply turned away, swallowing a sigh as anger flared within you. Sometimes Tony could be so insensitive, amongst other things, and it baffled you. Peter lost the only mother he ever knew, and Tony was treating it as if it was something minor. After a few more moments, you excused yourself under the guise of needing some air. In truth, you were determined to track down the prince.

It was not a hard task. He tended to frequent the same places when he called himself hiding. You found him deep within the grounds, lounging on a branch high up in the tree. It was getting late, the sun currently setting, and you held up the skirts of your dress as you trudged towards him. You knew that he heard you, and you resisted the urge to sigh as you stood below him. Your heart ached for him as you could not even begin to imagine what he was going through. After all, you still had both of your parents.

“Peter,” you eventually called.

He yet again pretended as if he had not heard you, a hurtful habit of his, and this time you did sigh.

“Peter, please come down. Your father is concerned about your whereabouts, and...and I am concerned about you. I-.”

“Why have you deluded yourself into thinking I care about how you feel?”

His tone was cold, venom coating every word, and your heart clenched. He rarely spoke to you, every time he did as cold as today, but this was different. You were unsure of what to say, and before you had the chance to remedy that, he was hopping down. It was a bit cool out, and his coat flared behind him as he strode towards you, face hard and nostrils flared.

“Why have you deluded yourself into thinking that I care about you at all?”

You reared back, staring at him with wide eyes. His words hurt, that you would not deny, and as much as you fought against it, you could feel a familiar burn behind your eyes. You swallowed, briefly glancing down as you took a step back.

“Peter-.”

“My mother was not even in the ground properly before you came sniffing around my father like a bitch in heat,” he sneered.

Your lips parted, wide eyes staring at him in shock at his words. You had never seen him look so hateful, borderline murderous, and you suddenly realized that this was about more than grief.

“P-Peter...that… That is not what happened-.”

“Isn’t it?” he wondered, taking another step towards you. “Do you think me stupid? Blind? You think I have never known of the way so many women prayed on my mother’s downfall?”

“I never-.”

“Do you think that I do not know that you all came to her funeral not as mourners, but as vultures? As desperate snakes trying to slip your way into my father’s bed so that you may take her place?”

“No! That is not what happened-!”

“You are no different from the rest!”

He was practically upon you now, glaring down his nose at you with so much disgust it finally made the tears spill over.

“I always knew that you were a desperate and conniving whore…”

You gasped, more tears falling at his insult. He raised one dark eyebrow at you.

“...but I never took you for a liar too.”

You were frozen as he looked you over one last time before breezing past you. You shook, unable to stop the tears, and you felt like you were going to be sick. You had no idea that Peter’s disdain was in fact not misplaced due to grief, but was instead as genuine as could be because he thought you to be something you were not. This knowledge made your heart hurt, and it turned out that you were not as adept at hiding your feelings as you thought.

“What troubles you so?” Tony wondered later that night, his hand on your shoulder as you sat at your vanity.

“Whatever do you mean?” you asked with a small smile.

His gaze met yours in the mirror, and the way his jaw clenched told you that he did not have much patience tonight. His fingers pressed into your skin, and you swallowed. You looked away, eyes blurring a bit as you recalled Peter’s cruel words.

“Peter hates me,” you confessed.

You heard Tony heave a sigh, and you turned to look up at him. He ran his hand through his hair as he rolled his eyes.

“That kid hates everyone and everything,” he replied.

“No, Tony. You do not understand. He believes me to be something I am not. He thinks that I schemed my way into marrying you, that I am trying to replace his mother-.”

“Peter will be just fine. He will grow to get over it in time,” was his enlightening reply, and you stood.

“But it is not true. Tony, does this not bother you? Because it bothers me! He should be like a son to me. He should be looking to me for guidance and care, and he curses the very ground I walk on. It hurts,” you spat, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Tony’s entire demeanor softened, and he pulled you into his arms. He pressed his lips to your cheek, and you winced at the soreness before he took your chin in between his fingers. He tilted his head at you.

“I love that you’ve grown to really care about him. It warms my cold heart…”

You forced a chuckle at that.

“...but Peter has always been a bit difficult when it comes to me and anything in relation to me. His mother is really the only person he ever really connected with. This will pass, I assure you.”

You reluctantly accepted that Tony just did not care about this as much as you did, and likely never would. Against your better judgement, you opted to let it go, and softly exhaled when Tony pressed his lips to your jaw. He trailed kisses down your neck, tightening his arms around you.

“As much as I enjoy your big heart, I would rather not spend the rest of the night discussing my troubled son,” he murmured, lips finally finding yours.

You did not know if you would ever grow used to making love to Tony. The only time he had ever been anything close to gentle was on your wedding night, and you had still cried, waking up sore and bruised. It eventually dawned on you that this was simply how Tony was, but it did not mean that you had to like it.

The years that passed did not improve things as you’d hoped they would. Tony was still the same as ever, and Peter was no different. Your conversations with the prince were rare, but every one was brief and left you with a paralyzing chill. When he was not speaking to you, his animosity was enough to force you to keep your distance. The hurt that his behavior caused never got any easier.

“When you have a child of your own, this will mean nothing to you,” Tony would assure you.

However, it only did the opposite. Even though Peter was not your own, it did not mean that you viewed him any less, and you knew that would not change when you finally did have a child. Whenever that happened. You and Tony had been trying for years, and there was still nothing to show for it. It was a great source of stress for you both, but Tony was taking it much harder than you.

“They say that it took many tries before they were finally able to have Peter, and even afterwards...the queen was never able to conceive again,” Guinevere had whispered to you one night.

“Oh,” you sadly said. “How awful…”

The blonde girl had glanced around the busy kitchen before leaning in.

“The king will never admit it, but many believe that he was the problem, and considering he is experiencing the same thing with you…”

Your heart sank as she trailed off, and despite everything, you found yourself feeling sorry for your husband. Many would argue that you should feel sorry for yourself. After all, it was a popular opinion that the woman’s womb was always at fault, and kings have gotten rid of their wives for less, but you knew that Tony was far too possessive of you to ever do such a thing.

It was a subject you wished you could talk to Peter about. He knew his father far better than you did, and sometimes you wished you could get some insight on how to make this better for him, but Peter was disgusted by your very presence. There came a time when you reluctantly accepted that it might always be this way, but everything changed when Peter was only a few weeks shy of his twenty-third birthday.

Tony, ever the showoff, was having a ball every week for five weeks straight leading up to the night. It was the second gathering when he had dragged you out of the great hall. His hold had been tight, steps hurried, and you forced yourself to swallow down the pain. The corridor was dimly lit and equally as empty, and tears of frustration were kissing your eyes.

“Tony-.”

“I saw you,” he spat.

“Saw me what? Saw me greet one of your friends? Because that is exactly what King Steven is to me and nothing more!”

His dark eyes were hard as he pressed his fingers into your arms, lip curled over his teeth as he sneered at you.

“He desires you. It is plain as day, and he has never been subtle,” he bit out.

“Somehow I am at fault for that? Steven is a bachelor in every sense of the word. That is how he is, and you know it-.”

“Yes, but I thought to myself, surely my loving wife would have the sense not to entertain his antics!”

“I was being polite,” you told him, wincing at his tight grip. “Just because you are only ever nice to people when you want something-.”

You swallowed your words with a sharp shriek, pressing your hand to your hot cheek as the tears finally spilled over. Your eyes were on the floor as Tony shook you, a scathing remark on his tongue, no doubt, when he suddenly stilled, swallowing whatever he was about to say. His sudden change confused you, and you hesitantly looked up only to realize that his gaze was not on you. You turned to find Peter standing just at the entrance of the corridor, his wide eyes on the two of you.

Tony was quick in straightening you up, and you hurriedly looked away as he acknowledged Peter.

“Why are you not enjoying your celebration with your friends?”

It was a while before Peter responded.

“I noticed that you had slipped out, so I came to find you. I had hoped to continue our...conversation from earlier,” the prince answered.

When you turned back around, you avoided Peter’s eye, but you could still feel the weight of his gaze. Tony’s hand was rubbing into your back as he responded.

“Of course. Sweetheart, you will excuse us, won’t you? Peter and I have much to discuss, and I am sure the other wives are missing your presence,” he said, turning to you.

He threw you a tense and threatening smile, and you shakily returned it with a forced one.

“Of course. I shall see you in there when you return. Peter,” you acknowledged as you hurried past him, avoiding his gaze still.

You did not return to the hall though, but instead made your way down to the kitchen. It was filled with servants, and Mary Jane gasped when she saw you. She and Guinevere were always joined at the hip, but the other girl had been ill for the last few days. The redhead dropped what she was doing, shooing another servant off of a stool before grabbing your arm.

“My God,” she breathed.

The other occupants tended to the food and drinks, much too used to seeing you down here twice a week or so. Mary Jane pressed a cold piece of steak to your face, and you hissed.

“Is it that bad?”

“It is swelling already, your majesty,” she said.

You shifted on the seat, holding the cold meat to your face as you shooed her off.

“I hardly notice how hard he hits anymore. It still manages to shock me every time though, and I have no idea as to why,” you whispered.

She was just about to reply when another voice rang throughout the kitchen.

“Everyone out.”

You turned with wide eyes, confusion tearing through you at the sight of Peter just at the bottom of the stairs. Everyone seemed to hesitate for a moment, worrying about the food, no doubt, before eventually heeding his order. Mary Jane, no stranger to your relationship with the prince, threw you a worrying look before being the last one out. Peter seemed to hesitate as well before huffing, quickly approaching you.

You moved to stop him, but he was already pulling the red meat from your cheek before you had the chance. He stared at your skin for a while before putting it back in place. You held it there as he leaned against the counter, a familiar look of anger on his boyish features.

“This is not the first time this has happened,” he murmured.

There was no need to respond. It was a statement, not an answer. The silence was heavy, thick with tension and filled with words unspoken. Outside of that night, this was the longest you had ever been alone with Peter, and the first time you did not feel uncomfortable in his presence.

“You did not want to marry my father...did you?”

You looked at him with wide eyes, lips parting to refute such a blasphemous statement, but no words came out. Words failed you. Peter was a smart young man, always had been, and you were sure that he would see through whatever lie you pieced together.

“Of course, it was not like you could refuse if you wanted to. He is a king, and you were a mere lady,” he said more to himself than you.

You sighed, putting the steak down as you stood.

“My father has never been kind to anyone in his life. I do not know why I thought you were an exception…”

“Peter… I do not want this to affect how you view your father, do you understand?”

He simply frowned at you, and you continued.

“He is not without his flaws, this is true,” you slowly said. “...but he is still your father. In his own way, he loves you and only wants what is best.”

Peter stared at you for a while before scoffing, a humorless laugh not far behind. He pressed his hand to the counter as he stared at you with a look of shock.

“My father does not deserve you,” he said, almost as if he could not believe it.

He chuckled again, pressing his hand to his forehead.

“All this time, I thought that the two of you deserved each other. I hated you...and now...now I just feel sorry for you. For both my father...and me…,” he quietly finished.

“Peter-.”

“I have been nothing but cruel to you, and for that I am sorry. I am sorry for the things that I have done...and the things that I have said.”

You blinked, convinced that you would never hear those words. They warmed your heart, and you looked away.

“It’s alright. You believed what you believed, and if I were in your shoes, I might have believed the same. Your feelings were valid, Peter,” you told him.

He blinked at you.

“I never wanted to replace your mother. That is still not what I desire...but I am here. I know that there is only a decade between us, but I have come to love you like a son despite everything.”

Peter’s eyes softened, and you could see the guilt there.

“I never wanted to rush you, even now, but I hope that you will view me the same one day. Tony is no longer your only parent, and I am always here.”

Peter looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he held off.

“I should get back before your father comes looking for me,” you said, heading for the stairs. “Oh...and please refrain from provoking him.”

You looked to Peter.

“I may dislike him at times, but I do not want to send him to an early grave.”

Peter simply hummed, sending you a strained smile before you left him to find your husband.

You remained in the corridor as the angry voices bled through the door. Both Tony and Peter assured you countless times that their strained relationship was none of your concern, but it could not be helped. They had never had the best relationship, but if possible, it had soured even more over the years, and you were unsure of who to blame.

The minute Tony started to get more serious about grooming Peter for the throne, things had gone from tense and strained to borderline violent at times. Not only did the two have such opposing views when it came to how to run the kingdom, but your husband had been pushing the idea of marriage more and more lately. It had only gotten worse when Peter neared his twenty-fifth birthday, the party on that fateful day ending abruptly when Peter had stormed out.

You were pulled from your reverie when the door swung open. Peter was the first one out, and he held up a hand as you moved to approach him.

“Not now, Y/N,” he huffed, quickly striding down the corridor with a frustrated sigh.

Tony emerged not long after, and you moved to kiss him, knowing that it would soothe him for the time being.

“That boy will be the death of me,” he complained.

“You both provoke each other, and I do not know why,” you told him.

“He has duties! He is twenty-five and nowhere near taking them seriously. It seems that he is determined to ruin me,” he spat.

You sighed.

“Would you like for me to talk to him?”

“You seem to be the only one he actually listens to, so by all means,” he gestured down the hall, face cloudy.

You patted his chest before leaving him, wondering if a day would come where you would be a functional family. You and Peter were nowhere near what you used to be, and for that you were eternally grateful, but his relationship with Tony was far worse than it had ever been, and you did not know how to even begin to fix it.

You found Peter sparring with his dueling instructor. The sound of clashing swords was loud, and you rounded the corner, wincing when Peter just narrowly missed a rather dangerous blow. He motioned for the other gentleman to stop once he spotted you.

“Come on his behalf, have you?”

“Peter,” you sighed.

He snapped at the other man.

“Give your queen a sword, will you? Come,” he was talking to you now. “Spar with me.”

You reluctantly accepted the other man’s sword, a grimace on your face as you stepped forward.

“I am a horrible dueling partner,” you complained.

“Nonsense, Y/N. You are far better than what you were a year ago,” Peter said with a chuckle.

Your heart sank a bit at the sound of your name, but it did not distract you from blocking the swing of his sword with your own. Peter smirked at you.

“See?”

“Peter, this is not why I am here,” you told him.

“Of course not,” he calmly said. “My father knows that between the two of you, you are the only one I actually respect. He believes that you have some sway over me...and I am not reluctant to admit that he is right.”

He blocked your blow, quick to do so again when you swung your sword down towards his legs. He eyed you, a bit of pride in his gaze.

“Very good,” he praised.

“I was hoping to talk you into agreeing to some sort of compromise with him. Any compromise, really.”

Peter let out a humorless laugh, spinning before bringing his sword down over his head. Your eyes were wide as you lifted your sword, the sound of them clashing meeting your ears.

“There is no compromising with that man. He is determined to bring this kingdom and all of its subjects to ruin, and he wishes for me to just stand back and watch. He does not hear a word I say,” he spat.

He swiped his sword at you, several times and in several different successions. Unable to keep up, you were not surprised when your sword was knocked from your hands. You did not flinch when the tip of his blade found your throat, confident that Peter would never hurt you. He pressed the tip further, eyes locked on yours, and you swallowed.

“Do you agree with him?”

“Of course not,” you honestly answered.

Peter lightly dragged his blade down your neck and towards the top of your dress, his eyes following its movement before he quickly snatched it away. He tilted his head at you, raising an eyebrow as he waited for you to continue.

“You know I do not agree with how your father runs this kingdom, but I have no say. I never did. Believe it or not, Peter, you have much more influence than I do.”

He turned away with a disbelieving laugh.

“Somehow, I doubt that…”

“Look, I am going to say something that I know you are not going to like,” you suddenly said.

Peter did not respond, so you continued.

“I think that you should consider marriage.”

You saw him straighten at that, back tense, and you rushed to say something else.

“If Tony feels that you are taking your future seriously, then he will be more inclined to take you seriously.”

He turned to you with a withering look, and you rolled your eyes.

“Do not look at me that way. I am not saying that you have to marry some poor girl right away, but at least make an effort to look around, and show Tony that you are attempting to meet him halfway,” you advised.

Peter gave you a hard stare for the longest time before eventually rolling his eyes and looking away.

“Very well. You always do get your way, don’t you, Y/N?”

Your mouth parted for a moment before you snapped it shut, looking down. This did not go unnoticed by Peter, and he neared you.

“What is it, now?”

Your eyes met his, and you tried to hide your hurt, but it must have been clear as day. Peter’s entire demeanor softened, and he stuck his sword in the dirt, reaching for you.

“What is it?”

You exhaled.

“That...is another thing I had hoped to discuss with you.”

He frowned in confusion.

“You still refer to me by my name…” you watched as his face fell. “And I do not wish to rush you, I never have, but when you say my name...it makes me feel as if I am doing something wrong here.”

“You are not,” he rushed to assure you. “Believe me…”

“I do not want to replace your mother, but if I am doing something-.”

“It is merely a force of habit. That is all,” he interrupted.

“You are sure…?”

“Positive,” he said with a small smile.

“...okay,” you said with a nod. “...and what will you be doing after this...?”

“I will be speaking with my father,” he reluctantly told you.

“Good,” you said, Peter bending to allow you to quickly peck his forehead. “...and please be polite. I hate the way you two provoke each other.”

He roughly exhaled.

“Yes...mother…,” he seemed to bite out, eyes on you.

You looked to him with wide eyes, heart swelling as your smile grew. You chuckled, kissing his forehead one last time before leaving him to finish his instruction.

Contrary to what you had hoped, your advice did not improve things. Now that Peter had agreed to at least looking for a wife, it just gave him and Tony one more thing to disagree on, and disagreements about the smallest of things only gave room for disagreements about more serious matters. Peter hated the way Tony ran the kingdom, and you could not fault him for that.

Meals were more tense than ever, and it soon became suffocating to be in the same room as father and son. You did your best to keep the peace between them but there was only so much you could do. Especially when the arguments would get so intense that you feared for them. Tony could get so angry, and while you had never known him to put his hands on Peter as he did you, it still worried you that he might one day. And Peter…

Sometimes Peter would get a look in his eye that chilled you to the bone. He would get so fed up with his father, lips pressed together as Tony tore into him, and you would see the younger man’s eyes flash with something you could not name. It was a look that terrified you and made him look like someone that was not Peter, at all.

Tensions only mounted as your birthday neared. You did not want either of them involved in the party planning process, convinced this would be the final nail in the coffin. Truth be told, it was also for yourself as well. It allowed you to breathe better.

“The party is tomorrow night, and Peter has yet to have the last fitting for his attire,” you told Mary Jane as you stood.

“I can finish this up, your majesty, while you go find Peter,” she replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely! I am almost finished, anyway.”

“Wonderful! I shall return shortly. There are only so many places he could be at this hour…”

The corridors were scarcely occupied as you decided to check Peter’s chambers first, making your way to his wing of the castle. You were unsurprised to find them empty, and you quickly made your way outside. He had a habit of frequenting the grounds, the maze especially, and you were confident that you would find him there then.

You had not been inside the maze for a while, but you remembered how to navigate it vividly. You were deep within it, somewhere in the middle perfectly between the beginning and the end when you stumbled upon a sight you were not prepared for.

At the other end of a long stretch, were a couple, far too wrapped up in each other to notice your presence. You felt your face heat up as you stumbled upon the lovers, and you were prepared to turn back when the young man lifted his head, familiar eyes meeting yours. A gasp escaped you, and you were frozen on the spot as Peter simply stared at you.

He did not break his gaze as he continued to thrust into the woman beneath him, who you absentmindedly recognized as Guinevere. Her eyes were closed, clinging to Peter as moans tumbled from her lips, and even though Peter was silent as he stared at you, the heat in his eyes was undeniable. Finally coming to your senses, you willed your feet to move, but you did not escape in time to miss the way Peter’s deep moan rang throughout the air.

Upon your return, you told Mary Jane that you were unable to find Peter. You did not want to think of the awkward encounter, and told yourself that the tailor had never been wrong before. You were positive that Peter’s attire would fit. You did not see the young man again until the following day, your birthday, and it was only an hour or so until your party. Tony was meeting with a few of his Lords when there was a knock on your chamber door.

You were quick to answer it, surprised to find Peter on the other side. You only felt uncomfortable for a moment before you took in his attire. You beamed, widening the door to allow him in.

“Oh, Peter, you look positively dashing!”

“Did you doubt that I would?” he smugly wondered.

You threw him a look.

“I swear, you are getting more and more like your father every day,” you told him with a chuckle.

“I got you something,” he suddenly said, and it was only then did you notice the box in his hand.

You blinked in surprise, eyes widening when he opened it to reveal the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen. The ruby heart in the middle was positively blinding, standing out against the rest of the diamonds that made up the band. You pressed your hand to your chest, mouth parting.

“Happy Birthday.”

“Oh my… Peter, this is so sweet of you,” you told him.

“Well,” he started, setting the box aside as he took the piece of jewelry into his hands. “It is not every day that one turns thirty-six.”

He motioned for you to spin around, and you obliged.

“This might also double as an apology for yesterday. I regret that you had to see that,” he chuckled.

You joined him, waving him off.

“Nonsense, Peter. It was a bit of a shock, but nothing more. You are a young man, after all, and I could never fault you for doing what young men do. You are treating Guinevere well, I hope? She is a sweet girl.”

Peter groaned.

“Yes, Y/N.”

Your heart sank at the sound of your name, and you frowned a bit.

“I am treating her just fine,” he assured you.

You chose not to comment on his use of your name, wondering if you had done something wrong.

“Would you ever consider marrying her?” you pushed.

Peter was quiet as he brought his hands over to lower the necklace at your neck. It was not one that rested at your décolletage, but at your throat instead, and your eyes widened a bit when he pulled it back. You reached up to your neck, forced to stumble back into his chest to keep from choking, relaxing a bit when he finally clasped it together.

“No,” was his simple answer. “It is not like that.”

He rested his hands on your shoulder, turning you around to admire you. His dark eyes took you in before finally focusing on the necklace, the corner of his lips lifting a bit. He pressed his finger to the ruby heart, drawing patterns over it before eventually stepping away.

“It looks great,” he told you.

“Thank you. We should track down your father before they start my own celebration without me,” you replied.

It was not long after that the three of you were entering the great hall, a smile on your face as everyone greeted you. Tony and Peter were at your sides, and both of their hands rested at the small of your back as they guided you to the royal table at the head of the room. Everyone only quieted down when you took your seats, and you looked down at the familiar faces with a smile.

Your attention was drawn to Peter as he stood, raising his glass as a servant came by to fill them. He only filled yours and Peters, but another quickly came to fill Tony’s. Once everyone’s glasses were filled, that was when Peter spoke.

“I would like to propose a toast…”

He turned to look down at you, dark eyes unreadable as he swallowed.

“...to the woman who loved me even when I did not deserve it.”

Your heart swelled as you smiled at Peter, so happy that you two had come this far.

“No one could ever replace my mother...and I would not want them to, but you, Y/N, you are the next best thing.”

Your eyes softened, realizing that while maybe Peter did not see you as something akin to a mother just yet, he still loved you, and that gave you hope. You could live with that for now. Peter’s eyes fell onto his father, and he suddenly smiled.

“...and to my father, the king. If it were not for you, Y/N would never have come into our lives.”

His voice was even, but his eyes glinted before he turned to the rest of the royal court, his glass held high.

“To the king and queen. Long may they reign,” his voice traveled over the room.

Everyone else repeated his words before taking a drink, you and Tony following suit. As you set your glass down, you watched, a bit concerned, as Peter swallowed all of his wine, a look of satisfaction on his face as he lowered his glass. You turned to Tony, prepared to ask him if he wished to say anything, just as he let out that first cough.

It sounded nasty, and you frowned, prepared to ask him if he drank too fast when he coughed again, blood staining his bottom lip. Your heart fell to your stomach, eyes widening as you reached for him, hands trembling. You were prepared to call for help when you noted the sound of several coughs reaching your ears, followed by screams.

When you turned towards the rest of the room, you saw every single one of the royal court coughing up blood, and you stood on unsteady legs as understanding dawned on you. You reached for Peter, your hand gripping his arm as fear and horror clung to you.

“P-Peter…”

You looked to him, but his face was stony as he looked down at everyone. The only people who were okay were you, Peter, the servants, and the few guards. You watched as Peter waved his hand, confusion filling you as two guards opened the door to let more in. You were frozen as they all drew their swords, stomach churning as you realized what was about to happen. You turned back to Peter, but he was already moving past you.

“Peter, what- what is happening? What are you doing?”

You lunged for him as he drew a dagger, hand fisted into his fathers hair to pull the struggling man’s head back.

“Peter, no!”

He shoved you away, right into the arms of a waiting guard, and you did not turn your head in time to miss the way he dragged the blade across his father’s neck. A scream left you, belonging to a voice that you did not recognize, and you continued to scream and cry as the guard backed up. Peter pointed at you, his father’s blood coating his hand, his face unrecognizable to you.

“Get her out of here…”

His eyes met yours, dark with a harmful intent that terrified you. Who was this man? He ran his eyes over you.

“...and do not let her get away.”

You fought against the guard as he dragged you away, kicking and screaming all the way. Your efforts did not even cease as you made it into the corridor, having been forced past the dead bodies of your friends and acquaintances. The guard towered over you and was easily double your size, so all of your efforts were useless.

He only let you go when you reached Peter’s chambers, dragging you through the receiving chamber to toss you onto the floor of his bedchamber. The impact made your head spin, and by the time you pushed yourself to your feet, he was already pulling the door shut. You slammed your hands against it just as you heard it lock, and another sob threatened to escape you.

You had only ever been in Peter’s room a handful of times, and you wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked around. Your chest hurt, heart breaking as you recalled the way Peter had so callously taken his father’s life. Your husband was dead, and it was no secret that the man was far from perfect, but his absence scared you. What would become of you now? Why did Peter not poison you like the rest? God, had his feelings never changed, at all? Had he still secretly hated you this whole time and wanted to get some sick satisfaction out of killing you here?

You lost count of how many times you tried the door before moving to the balcony doors. They too did not budge, and you kicked them in frustration. You could barely form a coherent thought, and more tears spilled over as you realized just how alone you were. You did not understand anything. Why would Peter do this?

As you heard someone enter his receiving chamber, it occurred to you that you might get your answer.

Your eyes met Peter’s as he entered his chambers, and you stumbled back, afraid to take your eyes off of him. You watched as he locked the door behind him, and the sight of that made your face crumble.

“What have you done?” you shakily asked.

The room was quiet save for your soft sobs, and you flinched when Peter took a step forward. He did not look like the young man you knew. He stood there in the dark attire he had picked out for your birthday, looking every bit like the murderous man you now knew him to be. A dark strand of hair kissed his forehead, jaw clenched as he eyed you. It started to lightly rain outside, and your eyes fell to the blood on his hands.

His father’s blood.

“Have you come to kill me too?”

Finally, his face shifted, and he frowned at you.

“Kill you?”

Peter scoffed, laughing to himself as he tilted his head at you.

“You could not be farther from the truth…”

“Then what do you plan to do? What are you doing, Peter? I do not understand…”

“My father was going to run this kingdom into the ground. We both know it…”

You started shaking your head before he was even done.

“Something had to be done.”

“Not like this! You killed him- you killed everyone,” you cried.

“...and here I thought you would be thanking me,” he sneered.

“Thanking you?”

“Unless I was wrong, and you enjoy being slapped around,” he threw at you.

You felt as if you were just slapped then, and you pressed your back into the wall, tightening your arms around yourself.

“Not like this, Peter. Not like this,” you tearfully murmured.

The rain got louder, filling the otherwise silent room with some noise, and you flinched when lightning flashed, shedding light on the room and on Peter’s dark gaze.

“What will become of me? Did you ever think about that? I am the widow of a murdered king. A king murdered by his own son in a coup!”

“...and the future wife of the next one,” Peter calmly stated.

You froze, his words failing to make sense despite the fact that you heard him just fine. Something about them did not sound right, and your lips parted, a shaky breath escaping you.

“What...what did you just say?” you hesitantly questioned.

Peter took another step towards you, and you slid along the wall...away from him.

“Do you have any idea how much it pained me to watch you with him?”

“Peter…”

You shook your head, still moving away as he moved closer.

“Do know what it was like to watch him mistreat you again and again only to turn around and reap the spoils of his marriage as if he had not just caused you harm only moments before?”

His voice was low, thick with something you were too disgusted to name. Your eyes were wide, filled with tears as the reality of the situation dawned on you. Peter’s feelings, his father’s murder...the two of you alone in a castle full of people that have proven their loyalty to him. Peter was only eighteen when you married the king, standing face to face with you, but now, eight years later, the young man towered over you.

He suddenly chuckled, and the sound terrified you more than anything now.

“I find it funny… My father was always telling me that royals take. We take what is ours. We take what we believe we should have. That is what we do, son,” he mocked. “We take.”

His cold eyes bore into yours as you stumbled away from him. In a circle the two of you went, and you pulled on the handle of the door as you pressed your back to it. Fresh tears spilled as it refused to budge.

“Now look. I have taken his life, I have taken his kingdom, and I have taken the woman he thought belonged to him-.”

He swallowed the rest of his words as you suddenly dived to the other side of the room. Peter followed, and you reached up to pull the portrait from the wall, tossing it at him only for Peter to evade it. You frantically crawled across the bed, kicking Peter in the chest as he reached for your ankle. You fell to your knees on the other side, running to the balcony doors with tears in your eyes.

Again, the doors would not budge, and you were prepared to throw yourself through the glass when Peter was suddenly there at your back. He enclosed you in his arms, and you reached back to fight against him and push him away, but he only pinned you between him and the glass. The sound of the thunder drowned out your screams, and you yelped in shock when he fisted a hand in your hair, yanking your head to the side.

Peter was determined to taste you, tongue and teeth brushing your skin as he ground himself against you. Nothing you did seemed to deter him, and it suddenly felt hard to breathe. The storm raged outside, wind pushing rain against the window. One of Peter’s hands dragged up your leg, pushing the skirts of your dress with it, and you slammed your hands against the window, attempting to push back.

This only egged him on, and he moaned in your ear.

“Peter, please,” you begged

You could feel the air against you, and your efforts to get away only increased when you felt him moving to release himself. The hand in your hair moved to your neck, cutting off your airway as he pulled your head back to rest against him. You struggled to breathe, nails scraping against the glass. He leaned down to cover your lips with his own, kissing you for the first time, and you sharply inhaled.

He moaned at the taste of you, his tongue meeting yours, tasting the wine that you wish had killed you too. You both struggled against the window, your hands turning into fists when he pushed his leg between yours, quickly followed by the other. You turned your head away, your small victory overshadowed by your ultimate defeat as he thrust into you. You yelped just as Peter shuddered against your back, a long sigh escaping him as he pressed a hand into the glass beside your head.

He pressed his face into your hair, grinding against you, the sound of him breathing you in reaching your ears. Your own forehead was pressed to the glass now, tearful eyes taking in the storm as Peter dragged his cock in and out of your unwilling core. Your body shook from both your sobs and his ministrations, and again, you pushed against the glass in hopes to push him away.

He merely shoved his chest into your back, forcing you back against the glass before wrapping his arms around you again. One hand pulled at the neckline of your dress, ripping it straight down, and your lashes fluttered when he slipped his hand beneath the fabric to roll his fingers over you. His other arm came across your middle, pinning your own at your sides.

“You are finally mine,” he breathed after a while.

You shook your head in denial, another lightning strike bathing the room in a glow. It was gone as quickly as it came, and you were forced to focus on Peter’s reflection in the window. He was lost in the euphoria of you, the feel of you wrapped around him, sucking him back in again and again.

“Finally,” he groaned. “At my side and in my bed as my queen…”

His hand slipped from beneath the torn fabric of your dress, dancing along your skin before his fingers brushed over the diamond choker at your neck.

“I have all night to claim you as mine, and no one is around to stop me.”

“Peter, this is not you-.”

“Oh, but it is,” he sighed. “This is the man you loved when he did not deserve it. This is the man you will marry, bear children with…’

You let out a choked sob, fresh tears falling at his words.

“Oh, please. Everyone knew that my father was the problem. He was the only one in denial about it, and I have a feeling that by the time I am done with you, you shall be with child by tomorrow.”

“Peter, please,” you screamed.

His hand tightened on your throat, pulling your head back so you were forced to stare at the ceiling, back arched to take his slow and purposeful thrusts. He kissed the corner of your eye before doing the same to your cheek. His breathing was choppy, heart pounding in his chest, and the way his hips stuttered told you that he was close.

“Oh God,” he moaned, stilling against your back as he spilled himself into you.

You froze against him at the feel, realizing that there was no turning back. You shook in his hold, feeling the urge to be sick when he suddenly pulled out of you, replacing his cock with his fingers. You gasped, reaching down to grab his wrist as he shoved a second finger inside of you, the wet sound of it reaching your ears even with the rain outside. He pressed you to his chest as he curled his fingers into you.

You bucked your hips, ashamed with your actions as he pulled pleasure from you like it was nothing. LIke he somehow knew your body better than you did. His lips were at your ear, brushing against your skin before he trailed them to your neck again, pressing kisses there. Your nails dug into his wrist, but he paid your efforts no mind as he thrust his fingers into you, setting a pace that had your legs shaking. You knew that if it were not for his hold, you would have collapsed already.

Peter hummed when your breath hitched.

“You are close...aren’t you?”

“Peter...stop,” you shakily begged.

“I shall stop when I feel your arousal dripping down my hand,” he purred.

His words had you clenching around him, and he moaned against your neck.

“I suppose I cannot blame my father for being so possessive of you. Your walls feel like heaven…”

“Peter…”

“I do not know how I will ever allow you to leave our bed-.”

“Peter-.”

“I guess I shall just have to keep you tired…”

“Please-!”

“Come for me, Y/N. Fall apart for your king,” he whispered.

And you did. You seized in his arms, walls clenching around him, your arousal coating his fingers and dripping down his hand. Your nails drew blood, but he only moaned with you, cursing as you rode yourself on his fingers, your other hand reaching back to twist into his shirt. That was the hardest you ever came, and shame filled you. As you came down from your high, Peter lowered the both of you to the floor.

It was only then did you notice the bloody handprints on the glass. The same blood on you, no doubt. More tears sprung forth as it all seemed to hit you, and Peter forced your head onto his shoulder as he shushed you. You obliged, and he leaned down to press his lips to your forehead, rocking you as you sobbed in his tightening arms.

tags: @xoxabs88xox @harryspet @readermia @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @hyoyeoniie @cocoamoonmalfoy @mandiiblanche @gotnofucks @oneoftheprettynerds @doozywoozy @mcudarklibrary @melli0112 @buckybarnesplumwhore @dramaholic18

#dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #dark!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #ROYAL AU #prince peter parker #dark fic

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violettelueur · 4 years ago

Text

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE NINE || SMALL FLY AND REVERSE RETRIBUTION

↳ featuring : gojo satoru + ieiri shoko (mentions of fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + zenin maki + nanami kento) from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of corpse + mention of blood + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 09 march

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.4k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : boredom

↳ next episode : idle transfiguration

↳ barista’s notes : hi there everyone! right now i know i haven’t been the most active i have been but i really thankful on how patient you all are ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ once again, thank you all for the birthday messages you have given me and the love that you all have for Y/N, i’m really glad that you love her character ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ i hope you enjoy today’s episode even though it isn’t that interesting at all to be honest...

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode..

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“At this point, I’m not going to get any sleep if I keep doing this,” you mumbled quietly to yourself, as you leisurely walked down the stone steps that lead to the familiar track field you had been going to for the past few weeks for training due to the up and coming Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event.

Currently, there was nothing more than a few mild wind breezes as well as the brightness from the moon keeping you company as you decided to come out of your room for the night - how many times have you done this? You wouldn’t even know the answer yourself, you just let yourself go outside to get some fresh air.

Finally reaching to the bottom of the steps, you casually made your way to the tree you always sat under during training with your classmates and second-year upper-classmen before taking off your black longline coat to place it on the ground like a cover as you processed to sit before laying right on top of it leading your view to change from the field to the sky that was slightly shielding by the branch and leaves from the trees.

“What...am I even doing here?” you questioned yourself while raising your arm slightly above your face as you stared at your hand absently like the answer you were looking for was at the back of your hand.

From what you have learnt at being at Jujutsu Tech for some time, you learnt that everyone had a purpose of being at the institution that you were currently residing in now.

Everyone you have met and knew here at this moment in time had a purpose or a goal of being a jujutsu sorcerer.

What about you?

Fushiguro thought the world was unfair and the reasoning behind his reasoning of becoming a sorcerer was to be a tool within a system that ensured kind people were given more chances in living. However, unlike you, you weren’t really fond of his reasoning at all.

What happens if those ‘good’ people you saved become the criminal you refused to save? What happens if those ‘good’ people you deemed ‘good’ become the most immoral and sinful person you ever encountered? What happens if those ‘good’ people you save that smiled at your actions for them lead that smile to fade?

Like you mentioned, you weren’t fond of his reasoning at all. There were too many risks.

Kugisaki's reasoning was humorous as she wanted to move out of the countryside without any worries of financial issues but you knew somewhere in your heart that there was another reason she wasn’t telling you when you asked her during your usual weekend shopping trip with her. On the other hand, you admired her in some way, she was the personification of not needing to choose between strength and beauty.

However, that wasn’t the answer you weren’t looking for at all.

Zenin (Maki) wanted to escape the ties of the Zenin clan due to her situation of not being able to possess any kind of cursed energy compared to the averaged sorcerer, yet with the heavenly restriction that was traded with the lack of cursed energy, she processed superhuman physical prowess that was more powerful than most sorcerers you come to know.

Her reasoning? To become the head of the Zenin clan to irritate the other members.

When she mentioned her ambition to you, you were quite sceptical in the beginning but that slowly diminished once you saw the cheeky grin on her face, you soon came to realise that she wasn’t like any of them from whom you could recall due to your mother’s knowledge of them when she was still alive. Zenin was extremely strong-headed and straightforward which led to her motivation causing your respect for her to slowly rise up as each day went by.

On the other hand, you had escaped the ties of the clans, you had that advantage ahead of her since the day you came into this world, yet that changed the second you came into school that night. That wasn’t the answer you were trying to discover.

Then there was Gojo Satoru. A man that is known to be the strongest in this generation as he processed both the Limitless technique as well as the Six Eyes after 400 years assumingly and was the lone standing member of the Gojo clan unless your adoption made a change to that to which you knew it wasn’t likely at all.

To be honest, Gojo never told you his reasoning on becoming a sorcerer and it must be said that he didn’t really have a choice, to begin with. He was immediately placed into this world as the fate of the jujutsu world was resting on his shoulders while your clan was the maintenance of that order and if anything happened to the man himself, you were the next sorcerer to restore the stability of the world.

‘Ugh, what a drag…’

Although, without his words, you could predict what he wanted. Gojo seemed like he wanted a revolution. A change and actively collecting sorcerers that had the same mindset as him was one way of beginning it. You couldn’t deny that Gojo was a smart man but one with a hint of narcissist meaning to it.

Slowly, you come to realise that you were a tool within his plan.

Something you slowly wanted to take advantage of for the time being.

However, as much as his plan was one you were tensely going to follow, that still wasn’t the answer you desired at all.

“Because I’m not supposed to exist Fushiguro, you’re a Zenin by blood, you should know that my clan shouldn’t exist after the golden age, we disappeared,”

“That’s right...I wasn’t supposed to exist…”

Slowly you finally placed your arm back down to your side before closing your eyes allowing the darkness to consume your sight but you didn’t allow it to consume the whole of you since you weren’t willing to fall asleep outside in the world where you felt most vulnerable.

It was quiet.

From what you could sense around you at this current moment in time, there was no one around you right now, no sound of footsteps that were out of place and no lingering sense of cursed energy around you.

You felt free.

Completely free.

Even if it was for a couple of seconds.

“You know, instead of being a drag, maybe inform that you are here,” you stated, as you opened your eyes slowly to discover a well-known face staring down at you as their body towered over yours.

“You can sense me that quick?” Gojo asked, with a cheeky smile painted on his face as he tilted his glasses down to reveal his crystal indicolite eyes that somehow looked as if they were brighter than the moon that was above the both of you right now.

“You have an immense amount of cursed energy, it’s quite easy to sense you to be honest...too easy,” you mentioned, before turning on to your side as if to avoid eye contact with him due to the feeling of him studying you like you were s subject - it was creepy.

“If you are going to study me about my ability, just go to the library in the school to read about my clan, I’m sure that is enough,” you informed your teacher, causing him to giggle at your comment before inviting himself to sit next to you.

“Nah, I got the real thing of the lingering L/N clan here and I don’t like reading~” Gojo amusingly stated, before placing a hand on the top of your head before gently ruffling your hair. “Besides, you and I both know that something is going on right now,” Gojo seriously mentioned, causing you to become slightly tense as you began to recall the unexpected attack against him that he was hinting to you.

“Do you know any curse users that are willing to work with the two curses that you encountered?” you asked Gojo in the same serious tone he gave you only for silence to fill the atmosphere leading you to turn your head slightly to see what was wrong with your adoptive father, only to notice him staring off into the distance with a nonchalant look on his face only for it to change instant with the usual playful smile he always showcased to you.

“By the way, I told Shoko to expect you tomorrow to practice your reverse cursed energy technique,” the playful teacher stated before removing his hand from your head as he stood up on his feet. “It might be difficult for you to understand since she’s not the best at explaining, but I know you’ll get it! Get back inside and get back to sleep~” he said with a teasing tone, before making his way back into the Jujutsu Tech building, leaving you alone again with your own thoughts as you stared at the direction that he had headed off to.

“What a drag…”

ꕥ

“Shoko-san?” you called out, once the metal door slid open only to discover her standing between two metal tables with what seemed to be curse corpses resting there with blood splattered messily on their resting surface.

“Oh Y/N! Satoru said you were going to come by,” Ieiri mentioned with a small smile, as she turned to look at you while tying her hair back leading you to notice the very visible purple under eye bags she had.

Ieiri Shoko was the doctor within the Jujutsu Tech institution and was one of the only people that was able to use reverse cursed technique like you but more at an advanced level leading you to mentally thank Gojo for allowing you to learn from her since you had been struggling to use it to the level that she was. Even your mother was struggling to help improve your technique since the only time you were able to use it to your full potential was when you were in critical danger.

“What’s going on?” you curiously asked as you observed the gruesome sight in front of you while trying to ignore the horrible smell that was coming from the corpses as you gently placed your hand over your nose to block the scent.

“There was been an incident in Kinema Cinema and I have been asked to check out these since one of the sorcerers that were assigned to the mission stated there was something odd about them,” Ieiri explained before handing you a black elastic band leading to a confused look to invade your face.

“And I want you to help since Saturo said you have a really good sense of seeing residue of cursed energy, as well as sense, cursed energy itself,” Ieiri informed you leading you to take the hairband from her grasp as well as the other surgical mask that was needed in case you both needed to dissect something.

“Are you sure I’m allowed to do this? I don’t have a license,” you questioned, as you placed the mask over your mouth causing Ieiri to look at you before saying to not worry since she was here - which caused you to look at her with a sceptical expression before going on to the task at hand as you stood next to her to peer over one of the deceased curses that were laying on the metal bench.

While observing the gruesome sight, you began to steadily see a trail of the lingering residue of cursed energy from the whole body, yet for some reason, there was a connection to the brain as you continued to stare that the sight much to your dismay.

“Human?” you stated in a perplexed tone while continuing to look at the head as the most amount of residue was there for the most part. “There’s a connection to the brain, so I assume the brain stems have been tampered with to alter the formation of the body, but the person wouldn’t know any of that due to probably their now impaired consciousness...it’s as if the human has been transfigured in a way like the other one behind us,” you informed Ieiri, who seemed to agree with you as she lightly nodded her head.

“Though the relationship between the brain and the cursed energy is still a black box right now, they died because of the modification and not because of the sorcerer,” the doctor added, causing you to give a side glance in her direction as you continued to listen to her explanation.

“Do you think it’s to do with the soul?” you asked, as you fully turned to look at her while she looked at you in confusion.

“Right now, we’re looking at it in a biological sense but if we are talking about a cursed spirit like Sukuna for example that is doing this, it has to do with the soul rather than the body itself,” you informed the doctor, causing her to look at you with widened eyes as she didn’t expect her old schoolmate’s daughter to have such a high capability to come to different ideas since it was Gojo that was your parent after all.

“Kento will have to ask the culprit about their cursed technique to see if your theory is correct,” Ieiri mentioned, leading you to look at her confused once again as you threw your surgical mask in the bin, only for her to swiftly inform you that a grade one sorcerer by the name of Nanami Kento was the one to inform her about the situation.

“I have to make a quick call to him to explain the discovery we made. Can you step outside and wait for me before I call you back so we can proceed to your lesson?” the doctor asked you with a smile leading you to nod at her before making your way towards the metal door that had come through before as you took one more peek at the Jujutsu Tech’s doctor’s direction with a perplexed and doubtful sense.

‘What’s the reason for me to be out of the room if I got involved with the investigation? What are you hiding from me?’

However, you didn’t want to make a whole fuss about your suspicion since you really didn’t have the effort to voice out your concern leading you to leave the room with more questions plaguing your mind as the ringing tone carried itself in the air.

“This is such a drag”

748 notes · View notes

viastro · 4 years ago

Text

in the spring | jeon wonwoo

ミ★ synopsis: in which you suffer from a car accident and have amnesia when you wake up. wonwoo is your current boyfriend, but you keep remembering your ex. [inspired by the numerous tiktoks i saw with this prompt]

ミ★ genre: angst, some fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: minor (?) character death

ミ★ word count: 7,663

ミ★ pairings: wonwoo x female reader (featuring ?? x female reader)

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! i wanna start off by saying that this is not realistically accurate ! i did some research on amnesia, but i’m not sure if this is still accurate at all. i also didn’t want to mention who the other member is, so it’ll be a bit of a surprise. i hope you guys enjoy this one, make sure to give wonwoo lots of love !

“Oh! She’s waking up! Go get Wonwoo!”

“I already told him and he’s quite literally sprinting up three flights of stairs.”

“Why would he do that? There’s literally an elevator?!”

“Guys, if you could step to the side so that I can do a proper checkup on the patient.” You let out a quiet groan when you open your eyes, just to immediately close them when you see how bright it is. The numerous voices don’t lessen when you attempt to open your eyes again, and you lock eyes with an older woman in a white coat. You frown when you realize she’s a doctor, and you look around the room to find three other guys staring at you with tears in their eyes around your hospital bed.

“Why am I-” You cough at how dry your throat is, and the doctor immediately hands you a plastic cup filled with water. You give her a tight-lipped smile as a thank you, before taking a long sip of the liquid. Once the cup is empty, you hand it back to the doctor before glancing at the three guys again, and you tilt your head when you find that they’re all incredibly handsome.

“What am I doing in the hospital? And why are there three handsome guys crying as they stare at me?” You ask as you turn to glance back at the doctor, and you raise an eyebrow when you hear one of them let out a loud gasp.

“Oh my God, she doesn’t remember us-”

“YN!” You jump slightly at the loud voice, turning your head to see a man with blue hair at the doorway to your hospital room, tears filling his eyes as he stares at you.

damn, he’s handsome too.

“Sir, please let me do a full check-”

“Y-yn, I’m so fucking sorry.” The blue haired man cries as he walks over to your side and grasps your hand. Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance around at the other guys to see them crying as well.

“W-who are you?” You tentatively ask, and you feel his grip on your hand freeze. He slowly looks up into your eyes, and you watch as more tears escape as he stares at you with a shocked expression on his face. You internally pout to yourself, he’s too pretty to cry over me.

“As I expected, excuse me sir.” The blue haired man steps away from you to make room for the doctor, but the expression on his face remains unwavering as he stares at you. The doctor proceeds to do a checkup on your vitals, as well as shining that bright light in your eyes that makes you wanna pass away.

She leans back after she’s done and tilts her head at you. You mimic her, and she lets out a chuckle before her expression turns more serious again.

“Yn, do you know why you’re here?” She asks, and you shake your head no. The doctor purses her lips and begins to softly explain how you ended up in the hospital, and how long you’ve been here. Your mouth slowly drops open at the news, and you raise a hand to touch your head, but the blue haired man stops you before you can do so. He reluctantly releases his grip on your hand, and your arm falls back to your side.

“I-I was in a car accident four days ago and went into a coma? And I just woke up?” You ask, and the doctor nods her head solemnly. You bite the inside of your cheek, “And I have amnesia?”

She nods again, and you glance at the four handsome men who are staring at you with swollen eyes. Feeling guilty for not remembering who they are, you find that you’re too shy to ask for their names. The one with black hair seems to notice, and he attempts to give you a reassuring smile, but you can see the pain in his eyes as he steps forward towards you.

“Yn, I’m Vernon, your best friend. We met in our first year of uni, six years ago.” He tells you, and you recite his name to try and ring any bells, but you come back with nothing. He gives you a grin and shakes his head at you, “It’s okay, you won’t regain your memories just like that. Don’t stress too much about it.”

You clench your fist at your side and nod your head, feeling grateful that he’s being understanding, but upset that you’re putting him and the other three in pain. One by one, the other two boys introduce themselves to you, Mingyu and Soonyoung, until you’re left with the last guy. The blue haired beauty who seems to be in the most pain out of the four of them. He slowly walks up to your side and sits in the seat beside your bed.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, and he bites his lip, looking down at his hands when tears fill his eyes again. You find tears filling your own eyes at his sadness, and you grip the bedsheet between your hands when he looks back up into your eyes.

“I-I’m Wonwoo. Your boyfriend of two years.” He tells you, letting out a sad smile. You stare blankly at him for a moment, letting the information sink in, before you turn to glance at the other three and the doctor. You turn back towards Wonwoo, and you find yourself incredibly confused at how you managed to pull this man.

So being in shock you ask, “My what?”

The guys let out a quiet laugh from beside you, and you watch as an amused smile etches itself onto Wonwoo’s face at your question. He runs a hand through his blue hair before nodding his head, “Your boyfriend of two years.”

You squint at him, “You’re capping.”

He chuckles and shakes his head at you, leaning back into the seat. “I’m not. You were the one who begged me to be your boyfriend though.”

“Aye, don’t lie to her Wonwoo. We have the videos of you swooning for her when you first laid eyes on her at my birthday party.” Soonyoung says, and a smile forms on your face when Wonwoo scowls at the blonde. You shake your head, but let out a little groan at the throb you feel in your head. Wonwoo immediately stands up and leans closer to you, asking if you’re okay as he checks your head, and you give the pretty man a small smile.

“I’m okay Wonwoo, don’t worry. It’s probably just because of my concussion and receiving all this information too.” You tell him, and he purses his lips. The doctor nods her head at your statement, telling Wonwoo and the other guys that it’s true.

“Dr.Park, do you know when yn might get her memories back?” Mingyu asks after she checks on the bandages on your forehead. She leans back and gives them a small smile, “It shouldn’t be long. It won’t come back all at once like a wave, but small bits and pieces will come back until she can remember. Showing photographs and videos, or telling stories can help speed up the process as well. Don’t stress that much about it though.”

The five of you nod your heads, and the doctor gives you a grin. “I’ll go and tell the nurses to bring you dinner, if you need anything, just press the button or have one of your bodyguards go and ask for us.”

You let out a chuckle at the term she used and nod your head. She bows towards the four guys before stepping out of the room, leaving the five of you alone. You watch as Vernon nudges Mingyu and Soonyoung, before motioning towards the door with his chin.

“We’ll leave the two of you alone.” Vernon says, and you nod, watching as the three of them exit the room as well, leaving you and Wonwoo alone. You turn your head to glance at the blue haired man, just to find his catlike eyes already boring into yours. The two of you sit in silence for a moment, just gauging each other's presence, before you squint at him again.

“There’s no way you’re my boyfriend.”

“I’m literally your boyfriend.”

“Proof?” Wonwoo chuckles, pulling out his phone and turning it in your direction. Your eyes widen slightly when you see that his lockscreen is a photo of the two of you at the beach, with you laughing and him staring down lovingly at you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, “So you are my boyfriend.”

Wonwoo smiles, nodding his head. He turns the phone towards his face to unlock it, before turning it back towards you so that you can see his lockscreen. You pout at the sight of it, just a photo of you in the kitchen doing a heart with your arms towards the camera.

“I wish I could remember this.” You mumble sadly as you stare at the photo, having no recollection of what occurred. Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek at how dejected you look, and he reaches out and tentatively rests his hand over yours, causing you to look up at him.

“I can tell you about my lockscreen and homescreen, if you want?”

The two of you stare into each other's eyes for a moment, and you find nothing but love in his gaze as his eyes bore into yours. Letting out a hopeful smile, you recall what the doctor told you about how photos, videos, and hearing memories can speed up the process of regaining your memory, so you nod your head.

Wonwoo grins before beginning to explain the extremely eventful history of the photos he showed you until your food arrives.

“Good morning, yn.” You glance up from your phone to find Wonwoo walking in with hot cocoa in his hands, and he watches your face light up when he hands it to you. You smile up at him, “Thank you, Wonwoo.”

He nods his head and settles down in the seat beside your hospital bed, and the two of you converse quietly as you each drink your hot beverages.

It’s been a couple days since you’ve woken up, and Wonwoo has come to visit everyday. You learned from the nurses who have been watching over you that Wonwoo would take care of you when you were in a coma, and would even end up falling asleep beside you until visiting hours were over. However, you haven’t been able to remember anything about him.

“Oh, Wonwoo.” You say when you notice a few strands of his blue hair sticking up. He glances up at you from the video he was showing you to find you pointing to his head. “Your hair is a bit messy.”

He raises an eyebrow, and raises his hand up to fix it himself, but you stop him with a grin. “I’ll get it for you.”

Wonwoo smiles when you reach out to flatten the strands of hair, feeling like this is a step forward since you’ve been cautious with him since you’ve woken up. While you may not know it right now, you would always pat his head whenever you saw him or fix his hair for him.

As soon as your hand rests on the top of his head, a patchy memory floods your brain, causing you to immediately retract your hand and grasp your head. Wonwoo looks up and stands from his chair as soon as he sees the grimace on your face.

“Yn? Yn??”

“Yn!” You let out a laugh at his spiked up hair that you did with the wet blue hair dye on the top of his head, and his mock anger turns into a giggle at the happiness on your expression. The two of you lock eyes in the mirror, and you flash him a bright smile.

“I said you can dye my hair blue, not make me look like sharkboy from sharkboy and lavagirl.” You don’t respond, but instead shoot finger guns at him in the mirror and he laughs at your silliness.

“You should have never given me this power.” You say with a grin, and he lets out a sigh, making you pinch his shoulder as you take off the plastic gloves from your hands. He smiles, turning to you and puckering up his lips.

You raise an eyebrow, “You wanna do the Kylie Jenner challenge too?”

He scoffs at you, and you giggle, immediately bending down to press a soft kiss against his lips. He smiles, muttering the three words that always make your heart burst.

“I love you, yn.” You open your eyes and stare into his deep brown ones that always seem to hold mischief in them. You peck his lips one more time before muttering back,

“I love you too-”

“Yn, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Your eyes open and you immediately look up to see Wonwoo staring at you with a concerned expression on his face. Your hand lowers from your head and rests over your beating heart, “Yn, take deep breaths. Follow me, okay? In…”

You copy Wonwoo’s lead until your breathing finally goes back to normal, and he lets out a sigh of relief when you’ve finally calmed down. He sits back down in his seat beside your bed, and watches as you just stare blankly at the white bedsheets.

“Yn, what happened? Did you remember something?” Wonwoo asks after a moment, and you have an internal debate with yourself on whether or not you should tell him that you didn’t remember him but someone from your past. You bite the inside of your cheek, knowing that it would only hurt him.

but i should be honest, he’s my boyfriend.

but his feelings would be hurt…

aaaAAAAAAAAAA DAMN YOU AMNESIA !

And so you turn back towards Wonwoo and shake your head with a reassuring smile, “No, just a small headache. Dr.Park told me that the small bursts of pain would be a common occurrence, so don’t worry too much, okay, Woo?”

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek at the nickname that slipped past your mouth, a burst of hope in his chest at the fact that you said his nickname unconsciously. He lets out a small smile and nods his head, the worry now disappearing from his face as he begins to show you the video again.

All while you watch it with the feeling of guilt in your heart, wondering who that person was in your memory, and why it wasn’t Wonwoo.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m literally not.”

“No, you’re joking.”

“Yn, you quite literally almost confessed your feelings to Wonwoo while you were drunk off your mind.” Vernon tells you, and you continue to shake your head. Soonyoung, Mingyu, and Wonwoo laugh beside you, and you scowl at the three.

“There’s absolutely no way I did that-”

“W-Wonwoo,” Soonyoung begins, mimicking your voice as he starts to sniffle and fake some tears. You watch in horror as he turns towards your boyfriend, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Curse you and your pretty face and nice personality! Fuck you Wonwoo!”

“Stop…”

“What are you doing, yn?” Wonwoo asks, immediately fulfilling his role as the two recreate the night you absolutely humiliated yourself. Soonyoung sloppily grabs Wonwoo by the collar of his shirt, and shakes him slightly, and you raise a hand to your mouth in shock.

“Do you know how-” You immediately close your eyes and cover your face with your hands when you begin to remember something. Wonwoo and Soonyoung stop their roleplay as soon as they see you doubled over, and Wonwoo sits on the side of your bed and begins to rub your back.

“Yn, you need to stop drinking.” Vernon says from your side, and you push him back, drunkenly holding the half-empty bottle of soju as you squint at your handsome best friend. “N-” You let out a burp mid-sentence, and Vernon’s lip quirks up slightly. “No.”

Vernon rolls his eyes, stepping over and grabbing the bottle from your hold easily, before walking back into his kitchen and placing it on the highest shelf. You curse to yourself, knowing that you can’t climb up onto the counters when you’re drunk.

“Tell me why you’re drinking so much when you know how bad your hangover is going to be tomorrow.” Vernon says as he sits down in the seat beside you at his kitchen table. You bite the inside of your cheek when tears fill your eyes after a moment of thinking, and Vernon’s amusement immediately turns into concern when he catches sight of this. You rest your cheek onto the table, and Vernon watches as a single tear slips past your eye.

“I think I love Wonwoo.” You mutter quietly, so quiet that Vernon almost misses it. He lets out a soft smile at your confession, and nods his head, having already sensed this by the way you look at the man.

“I think he loves you too, yn.” You bite your bottom lip, sitting up and resting your head in your hands as more tears spill from your eyes. Vernon reaches out and pulls you onto his shoulder, whispering words of comfort.

You suck in a breath once you open your eyes again, and immediately turn towards Wonwoo, who is already doing the breathing exercise to try and get you to calm down. Once your breathing goes back to normal, you rest a hand over your heart, and turn towards Vernon, who’s staring at you in concern.

“Did you remember something?” Mingyu asks, and you nod your head slowly. The guys all perk up in interest, and you let out a pained smile as you look at Vernon, before turning to glance at Wonwoo.

“I remembered me crying over you in Vernon’s kitchen, I think it was probably a few days after I humiliated myself in front of you.” You tell Wonwoo, and you watch as a bright smile slowly forms on his face. He pulls you into a hug, and your eyes widen slightly at the contact.

“This means you’ll start remembering things soon.” Wonwoo says excitedly, and you let out a close-lipped smile, nodding your head as you rub his back softly. Your eyes trail over to Vernon, whose eyes also appear to be sad as they stare into yours. Biting the inside of your cheek, you look away, now filled with more questions than answers.

“So you remembered most of your memories with Vernon, Mingyu, and Soonyoung?” Wonwoo asks as the two of you walk around the garden at the hospital, and you nod your head with a small smile. Wonwoo nods his head happily, feeling grateful that your memories are slowly coming back.

“Maybe you haven’t remembered most of our memories because you’ve known me the shortest?” You purse your lips in consideration of his question, nodding your head as it does seem to make sense. The two of you walk quietly, just soaking in the warm, Spring sun.

You’re going to be discharged soon since your concussion seems to be almost 100% gone. They just have to do a few more scans and you should be good to leave by Saturday. You’ve been dreaming of most of your memories from the recent years with the boys, but you haven’t remembered most of the memories with Wonwoo.

“Oh!” You turn to see Wonwoo bend down and pluck a daisy from the ground. He turns back towards you, a shy smile on his face as he tucks it behind your ear. The heat rushes to your face, and you open your mouth to say thank you, when that familiar feeling floods your head again.

You raise a hand up to your forehead, and Wonwoo immediately grasps your hand and leads you over towards the bench nearby so that you can sit down. You double over, covering your face with your hands as the memory floods your brain.

“You really wanted to fulfill your weeb fantasy, huh?” You tease, and the blue haired beauty rolls his eyes at you. You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek to reassure that you’re just joking around with him. The two of you walk around the square, looking at the brilliant shades of pink from the fully bloomed cherry blossom trees surrounding the two of you.

“I can see why cherry blossoms are your favorite flower.” You mutter softly, extending your hand out and watching as a soft, pink petal falls onto the palm of your hand. He smiles at the sight, taking a picture of you as you stare at the petal. You turn towards him when you hear the sound of the camera shutter, and you squint your eyes at him.

“What? You look pretty.” He tells you easily, and you bite the inside of your cheek at his honesty. You glance back down at the petal, only for the wind to push it off your hand. You watch as it flies in his direction, before landing on the top of his head. You let out a smile, and he chuckles, picking it out of his hair.

“Did you know that catching a falling cherry blossom makes your first love come true?” You ask, and he raises an eyebrow, stepping over and wrapping his arms around you. You smile brightly when he steals a quick kiss from your lips, and you wrap your arms around his middle. He lets out a sigh, “Does that mean we’re gonna get married?”

You shrug your shoulders with a chuckle, before the two of you pull away and begin walking around the square again.

“What if we got married in the Spring? So we can have a cherry blossom wedding.” He asks after a moment of the two of you walking around in a relative silence, and you giggle at his idea. He turns towards you, pinching your shoulder with a smile on his face, “Why are you laughing at my dreams?”

You pinch him back, eliciting a slight squeak from him, causing you to laugh. Letting out a sigh, you smile softly at the premise of the two of you getting married one day. “We’re two broke third year university students. I don’t think we should be so ambitious just yet.”

“Let me dream.” He tells you pettily after a moment of silence passes between the two of you, and you stop walking, causing him to raise an eyebrow at you. You wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your head into his chest without another word, and he lets out a soft smile, before wrapping his arms around you. You mutter, “I’m kidding, I like the idea of a cherry blossom wedding.”

He kisses the top of your head, “I know.”

“Let’s take a picture before we go and get food, mm?” He tells you after a moment of the two of you just holding each other, and you nod your head, pulling away so that he can pull out his phone. He holds his phone down so that the cherry blossom trees can be seen in the background, and the two of you flash bright smiles as he takes a couple pictures of you both.

“I’ll add this to our wedding slideshow folder.” He says, and you let out a loud laugh at the joke, slapping his shoulder, causing him to giggle. You double over in laughter when you see him actually add it to an existing folder titled wedding slideshow <3333, and he laughs beside you.

“Happy three year anniversary, yn.” He tells you once the two of you calm down, and you smile brightly up at him. You lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips as the cherry blossom petals fall around the two of you, before pulling away with a bright smile on your face.

“Happy three year anniversary.”

“Yn, breathe.” You let out a loud gasp once the memory stops, and you lock eyes with Wonwoo who is sitting beside you with a concerned expression on his face. Wonwoo’s eyes soon fill with worry, and he reaches up and cups your face, thumbs swiping under your eyes, “Yn, why are you crying?”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Wonwoo mentioned it, and you rest a hand over his wrist as he continues to wipe away more tears spilling from your eyes. You find that you don’t have an answer to his question as he pulls you into his arms, and your head rests into his shoulder as more tears continue to pour out.

You don’t have an answer.

You and Wonwoo quietly read together in your hospital bedroom, with you being able to be discharged in a couple days. The two of you haven’t spoken on why you were crying the other day, as Wonwoo saw that you didn’t know yourself.

You roll onto your side so that you’re facing Wonwoo, who is sitting on the small couch beside the window. You peek over the pages of your book, just to find your blue haired boyfriend deeply engaged with what he’s reading. Letting out a small grin, you continue to watch fondly as he turns the page, only for his eyes to look up from his book and lock with yours.

“Like what you see?” Wonwoo asks, and you roll your eyes, hiding your face with your book again.

“You wish.” You answer, and he chuckles. It’s only when you glance over your book to take another peek, that you feel the familiar sensation fill your senses. Wonwoo looks up from his book when he hears you let out a curse, and he immediately stands up and walks over to your side when he sees you covering your face with your hands.

You glance up from your homework when you feel his fingers intertwine with yours. You let out a small smile at the neutral expression on his face, as if he didn’t just initiate skinship with you as the two of you study for your finals.

You look back down at your book, before falling back into the rhythm of taking notes at a decent pace. That is, until you hear a loud snore beside you. You choose to ignore it at first, until you hear another one escape his mouth after a few seconds. And so you turn your head to find your pretty boyfriend fast asleep on his Chemistry book, hand still holding yours as he does so.

Pursing your lips, you check the time on your phone, just to find that it’s 2 in the morning. The two of you have been studying for at least 12 hours now, you both deserve to sleep. You move to let go of his hand so that you can gently wake him, but his grasp on your hand tightens instead.

“Are you awake?” You ask with an amused smile on your face, and you watch as he slowly opens his eyes and stares into yours. You giggle, reaching your hand up and patting his head fondly as he groggily sits up from the table. Not letting go of your hand, he rubs his eyes with the back of his free hand before standing up.

“Are we going to bed now?” He asks groggily, and you nod your head. He smiles, before dragging you over to your room without another word. You mutter out protests about how the two of you didn’t clean up your workspace yet, but immediately get shut down when he plops down under the covers and pulls you into his side.

“We can clean up tomorrow morning.” He tells you softly, pressing a kiss to the back of your head and closing his eyes. Biting the inside of your cheek, he squeezes your hand, and nuzzles his head into the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, yn.” He mumbles, and you smile, before closing your eyes as well.

“Night night.”

“Fuck.” You curse to yourself through your heavy breathing, still unsure of what his name could possibly be. Wonwoo soothingly rubs your back as you rest your head onto his chest, harshly biting the inside of your cheek as you’re filled with even more questions rather than answers.

“Did you remember something?” Wonwoo asks after a moment, and you don’t respond. You just silently wrap your arms around his waist, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck for comfort. “Can we just stay like this? Please?”

Wonwoo nods his head, tentatively wrapping his arms around your frame. He cradles your head with his hand, and whispers soothing words into your ear. “It’s okay yn, it’ll be okay.”

You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel that familiar feeling again, and you tightly grip Wonwoo’s shirt. His eyebrows furrow in concern, and he tries to pull away to check on you, but you continue to hold onto his waist. “Yn? What’s wrong? Yn?”

“Yn?” Wonwoo watches as you wordlessly walk to the bathroom after slamming your laptop shut. He follows after you, and his eyes immediately widen in alarm when he sees you grab a pair of scissors and raise it to your hair.

“Yn!” You stop when you hear Wonwoo’s voice, and you turn your head to see Wonwoo standing at the entrance to the bathroom, staring at you with worry. You bite the inside of your cheek, and drop the scissors back onto the bathroom counter. Feeling your eyes brimming with tears, you attempt to hold them back.

“I-I’m okay-” You get cut off when Wonwoo steps over and wraps his arms around you, immediately cradling your head with his hand. The rest of your excuse dies in your throat when Wonwoo nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

“You don’t always have to be okay, yn.” Wonwoo tells you, and that’s when the tears spill from your eyes. You wrap your arms around his waist, crying out that you can’t get along with anyone at work, and that your boss seems to hate you.

“I bet she doesn’t hate you.” Wonwoo reassures, and you shake your head as you sniffle into his shoulder.

“She absolutely does! I,” You sniffle again, and Wonwoo lets out a small smile when you mutter out how gross this is before continuing. “I got tea yesterday and forgot to get her a donut like I always do, and she hasn’t smiled at me since!”

“Yn, I don’t know how anyone could hate you. She might’ve just been having a bad day.” Wonwoo says softly as he runs his hand through your hair. Shaking your head, you let out another wail about how you’re going to get fired, and he bites the inside of his cheek at how silly you’re being.

“Try and talk to her tomorrow, mm? And invite your co-workers out to get lunch or something. Friendships always blossom over food, trust me.” You close your eyes once your breathing goes back to normal, and Wonwoo slowly pulls back so that he can get a good look at your face. He lets out a fond smile when he sees your puffy eyes, and a little bit of snot that escaped from your nose.

Not letting go of you, he leans back and grabs a tissue, and begins wiping away your tears. He places the tissue over your nose, “Blow.”

And so you blow your nose, not to say that it’s your proudest moment, but Wonwoo doesn’t care.

“Everything will be okay, and if you wanna cut your hair then make sure that you’re in the right frame of mind when you do so.” Wonwoo tells you, and you softly slap his shoulder, eliciting a chuckle from him. You finally let out a small grin, “Thank you, Woo.”

He nods his head, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Anything for you, yn.”

You open your eyes and loosen your hold on Wonwoo. He pulls back and examines your face, “Did you remember something again? In just a span of a few minutes?”

You nod your head, giving him a small smile. You reach out and pat his head, making his eyes soften immediately. “I remembered me almost chopping my hair, and you convincing me not to.”

Wonwoo’s eyes brighten, before he lets out a little chuckle, causing you to raise an eyebrow. He turns his head and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, eliciting a squeak from you, and warmth to rise to your cheeks as you slowly lower your hand back down.

Smiling at your shyness he says, “That’s happened multiple times. You have to be specific.”

To which you scowl, slapping his arm, causing him to laugh and tell you he’s only partially joking. Even through the joy you and Wonwoo feel for you remembering something about your guys’ relationship, the heavy feeling in your heart is still prominent.

“I’ll come back a bit late tonight.” You pout at him, and he giggles at your cuteness, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. His big, bright eyes are filled with love as he stares at you, and the roots of his black hair are beginning to show. The two of you don’t mind though, you both think the blue and black looks nice.

“We’re supposed to watch the new episodes of Haikyuu! tonight though.” You say, and he grins, squeezing your face between his hands.

“We can still watch it tonight, I just have to meet with my group for econ to discuss our project.” He tells you, and you purse your lips, before you nod your head. You know that this project is crucial for this course, considering the rumors you’ve heard from the fourth years at uni who took the class the year before.

“Okay, make sure to text me, mm?” He nods his head, before pulling you into another hug. You let out a small sigh, knowing you won’t get tired of this feeling.

Home. Home is wherever he is.

“You want me to buy you any drinks when I’m on my way back to your apartment? Tea? Boba?” He asks once the two of you pull away, and you purse your lips in thought. He lets out his melodic laugh at the expression on your face, and you break out into a smile. “Can you buy fried chicken? So that we can eat it as we watch?”

He nods his head, before grabbing the doorknob and turning it. He pauses though, and you raise an eyebrow when he turns back towards you and presses another kiss to your lips.

“I love you, yn. I’ll be back later.” He says against your lips, and you nod your head with a soft smile on your face.

“I love you too. Be safe!” And with that, he walks out of your apartment.

You glance at the time, seeing that it’s 10 PM. You knew that he was going to be a bit late, but you didn’t expect him to be this late. You open up your messages with him, just to see the last texts between you two where he asked what kind of fried chicken to get.

You’re about to turn off your phone when your screen lights up with a call, and you see that it’s Vernon. Raising an eyebrow, you answer and place the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Yn.” You frown at the sound of his labored breathing, and you slowly sit up when you hear him sniffle.

“Vernon, is everything oka-”

“Yn.” He cuts you off, and you bite the inside of your cheek nervously at the shakiness to his voice. His next two words send an icy feeling through your heart, and you find yourself scrambling towards the front door without a second thought.

“It’s Joshua.”

You wake up with a loud gasp, resting your hand over your heart as you stare at the light beginning to stream in through the hospital window. You raise your hands up to your face, feeling the wetness of your cheeks as you hear your heart pounding against your ears.

You feel a sob building up in your chest, and you double over as you begin to cry. Grabbing the pillows, you chuck them across the room as you start to scream. You don’t know how long it takes until someone walks into the room, finding you screaming and crying out Joshua’s name in agony.

You don’t even realize that it’s Vernon who is holding you to try and calm you down, telling you that it’s okay, that it’ll be okay.

All you know is that you remember.

You remember everything.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

You stare up at the white ceiling, looking at the numerous holes as you try to think of your answer. You turn your head to see Vernon staring at you with a small smile on his face, chin resting in his hand. You let out a grin at the sight, feeling a sense of comfort from Vernon as you look at him.

“I don’t know. Feeling like I’m going through the five stages of grief again.” You mutter quietly, turning back to count the number of holes in the ceiling.

So far you’ve counted 457, nope. 458 now.

“When you didn’t remember me, I knew you most likely didn’t remember Joshua.” Vernon says, and you bite the inside of your cheek at the memory of him.

Your first love.

“Do you still think of him?” You ask quietly, remembering Joshua’s bright smile whenever he looked at you. Vernon lets out a sad smile, nodding his head as he adjusts himself in the seat beside your hospital bed.

“Everyday. I think of him everyday.” Vernon answers, and the two of you stay silent for a moment, letting everything soak in. You sit up in the bed, running a hand through your hair as you pull your knees up to your chest. “Do you think he hates me?”

Vernon immediately shakes his head ‘no’ at you, and you let out a sigh. Vernon reaches over and pats your knee, making you turn to look at your best friend. “Remember when we had that talk? The night you cried on my shoulder?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head as you remember the full story now. Vernon gives you a reassuring smile, “Everything I told you then, still applies now.”

When you finally calm down, you pull away from Vernon’s hug, and wipe away the tears on your cheeks. You do a bad job at it, so Vernon reaches out and wipes away the rest with a tissue. Letting out a tired sigh, you slam your fist on the table.

“I can’t love Wonwoo, Vernon. I can’t do that to Joshua.” You say, and Vernon shakes his head at you. The two of you sit in silence, with your leg shaking underneath the table at the memory of Joshua.

“Yn, you know how much Joshua loves you?” Vernon asks after a moment, and you turn to glance at him, waiting for him to tell you. Vernon smiles sadly, reaching out and patting your head.

“He loves you so much that he’d do anything for you to be happy, even if you find happiness being with another person.” Tears fill your eyes as you stare at Vernon, and you look down at the table. You cover your face with your hands, and Vernon sucks in a breath.

“You and Joshua will forever deserve better than what the two of you got, but he wouldn’t want you to risk your own possibility at happiness for the sake of him.”

You bite the inside of your cheek at the memory, and rest your head on the top of your knees. Vernon lets out a small smile and glances over towards the door, seeing that familiar blue head of hair waiting by the window. Vernon motions for him to come in, and he slowly opens the door.

You look up at the sound of the door opening, and you break out into a smile when you lock eyes with Wonwoo. He smiles softly at you, and his eyes slowly widen when you get up off the hospital bed and immediately wrap your arms around his middle.

“Is everything alright?” Wonwoo asks after glancing at Vernon to see the black haired beauty shaking his head ‘no’ in his direction. Wonwoo tentatively wraps his arms around your frame, cradling your head softly.

“I remember everything.” You answer after a moment, and Wonwoo freezes in your hold. He slowly pulls away to get a look at your face, and he sees you looking up at him with that familiar twinkle in your eyes. “Really?”

You nod your head, and you watch as Wonwoo’s face slowly breaks out into a smile. His hands trail up to cup your face with pure joy on his features, “You remember everything? Even the time you jumped into the pool to try and avoid me when we weren’t dating yet?”

You immediately frown, “Who told you that?”

To which Wonwoo’s eyes flick to the right, before glancing back at you. You let out a gasp of betrayal when you comprehend why he looked in that direction. You turn towards Vernon, who is now slowly raising his hands up in surrender. You point at him, “You told Wonwoo?!”

“It ain’t me.”

“It was you.”

“Wonwoo!” The three of you begin to bicker, with three different arguments going on at the exact same time. The three of you are so loud that you fail to notice Mingyu, Soonyoung, and Dr.Park step into the room with congratulatory gifts for you getting discharged.

“Should we… step out?” Soonyoung asks quietly when you move to put Vernon in a headlock, only for Wonwoo to hold you back from doing so. It’s only then that the three of you realize that you have company, and you all pause your movements.

“Oh my God… heyyyyy…” You say when Wonwoo sets you back down on your feet. Mingyu lets out a giggle when Vernon reaches out to move away a strand of hair on your face, only for you to slap his hand away.

You still feel betrayed.

“I see that you have your memories back?” Dr.Park asks, and you nod your head with a small smile. She grins as she hands you a bunch of documents about your stay, and the tests you took. “I’m glad you’re doing alright. Wonwoo already checked you out, so you just have to change into your clothes and you’re all set to go.”

You nod your head, telling her thank you as she steps out the door. You glance at the four guys all staring at you, and you squint your eyes at them. “I have to change.”

They don’t understand at first, until Wonwoo’s eyes widen and he immediately grabs Vernon by the arm, and begins shoving Soonyoung and Mingyu out the door. You let out a smile and wave your hand at the four once the door closes behind them.

“Well, it’s time to go.” You mutter to yourself, before heading into the bathroom to change.

“Where should we eat as a celebratory dinner on yn getting her memories back and getting discharged?” Soonyoung asks as the five of you head towards the hospital exit. You glance up at Wonwoo when the guys begin spewing out different food options, and you grin when you see the soft smile on his face.

“Fried chicken?”

“Nah, that’s for tonight’s celebration. How about pho?”

“Oh! Oh! What about bbq?” Your stomach grumbles at the mention of grilled meat, and the guys let out a laugh. Vernon pats your head softly, “Guess we have a winner on where we’ll eat lunch.”

The five of you finally exit the hospital, and you stop your movements right when you lay eyes on the numerous pink petals on the sidewalk before you. You slowly glance up to see the fully bloomed cherry blossom tree. Out of habit, you lift your hand so that it faces up towards the trees. And you watch as a delicate, pink petal slowly falls from the beautiful flowers and lands right in the middle of the palm of your hand.

You let out a soft smile at the sight of it, feeling your heart warm when the wind pushes it away. You turn your head in the direction it flies off to, watching as it swirls in the wind as if it were dancing to a song. It finally lands right on Wonwoo’s blue hair, who is standing by and watching you with a fond smile on his face.

You grin, running up to your blue haired boyfriend and immediately grasping his hand. He presses a kiss to your temple once the two of you begin walking in Soonyoung, Mingyu and Vernon’s direction.

“I love you.” Wonwoo mutters against your head, and you feel heat rush up to your cheeks when you turn to see the overwhelming amounts of love in his gaze as he stares down at you. You stand up on your tiptoes and quickly steal a kiss from his lips, before pulling away with a soft smile.

“I love you too, Wonwoo.”

1K notes · View notes

of-birds-and-men · 4 years ago

Text

Kass gave Link a warm smile, the early morning sun dipping him in honey and making his smile glow even more. “Well, this is quite out of the blue. Not even a ‘hello?’ Much less a ‘please?’”

Link’s lips snapped into a flustered frown. “I’m sorry,” he frantically signed. “Please, could you teach me?”

After throwing his head back to bellow a laugh, Kass chuckled, “I am only messing with you, my friend. Do not worry.” He patted the spot next to him on the landing where he sat, signaling Link to sit by him. “I’m curious about what song you want to play. Which is it?”

Accepting the invitation to sit next to Kass, Link kept his head down as he shuffled over. His eyes flicked around and his cheeks started to redden the slightest bit. Why the answer embarrassed him so much, he wasn’t so sure, but it was hard to get his reply out.

“Ah,” Kass said with his smile still prominent on his beak as he set his accordion down next to him. “Do you mean to learn the other Champions’ songs as well?”

Link breathed in through his teeth and shrugged. “Maybe. But I want to learn Revali’s right now if I can...”

Kass looked down at him with raised eyebrows, as if gently urging him to elaborate.

With that, Link rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged again. “Well...I don’t know. I had some memories come to me, but they’re foggy and I can barely understand them. But, something is telling me today is Revali’s…” His hand dropped and his brow furrowed in thought. He knew the sign for the Hylian term but didn’t know it for the Rito if there even was one for it. Opting to fingerspell, Link spelled it out with his fingers as Kass read it closely.

When he was finished, Kass’s beak hung open a little in interest. “Oh, so today is Champion Revali’s Hatchday? I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I…”

“...I think so.”

“You mean to play his song in his memory today?”

Link’s cheeks burned brighter. “Is that stupid?”

“Oh, no. Not in the slightest,” Kass assured, waving his hand. “In fact, I think it’s a lovely idea.”

“...Thanks. I don’t know what else I would do anyway. If there was something, I don’t remember it,” Link said, his hands moving slowly. His mind drifted; not that there was anywhere for it to go after his century-long sleep practically wiped it clean.

He brought himself back to where he was with a sigh. “I don’t know. I would do something or leave him a gift, but I remember next to nothing about him. I don’t remember what he liked or even what he hated. Nothing...”

It was true. There were only a couple of clear memories of Revali that Link remembered now. Only a few moments where Link could see his face and hear his voice clearly. And then there were even more blurry, foggy images of him that were slowly trickling in and left Link with more questions than answers. Leaving him feeling like there was so much more that he was missing. Almost like he was missing an important part of himself; of what his life had been before Calamity Ganon struck.

Really, it was the same thing with everyone; with Zelda, Mipha, Urbosa, and Daruk. Brief memories, some clear and some so hazy they were beyond recognition.

But with Revali, it was somehow different. It hurt more. It was severely more painful. It made both his heart and head ache. And he had no idea why it was the case for Revali out of all of them. Why the one who seemed to like him the least, or even hated him, made Link feel this longing...No, this need...to remember and know him like he used to. However it had been.

Still, even though his mind was riddled by all sorts of questions he couldn’t answer after forgetting everything but his own name…

Something within him couldn’t quite let itself completely forget.

“But I know that I have to do something for him and this is all I can think of,” Link finished, taking his time with every hand motion as he stared down at the lake below them; the surface of the water was almost black with the light of the morning sun not having reached it yet.

Noticing the gloom that was beginning to dawn on Link again, Kass leaned over and spoke up in a chipper voice. “It is more than a generous gift. Do not sell yourself short. I’m sure that if he is still there to listen, he will be grateful.”

Link forced a small smile to give to Kass. “Thank you. I hope you’re right.”

Kass let the corners of his beak curl all the way up to try and settle whatever troubles he thought Link had. “I must say though, I did not take you for the musical type,” he began. “What does a man like you play?”

Letting out a short hum, Link fumbled around in the small bag on his belt to show the instrument in question. Once he fished it out, he held it out for Kass to see.

It was an ocarina he had come across in his travels. His curiosity had driven him to buy it with the extra rupees he had on hand when he saw it amongst Beedle’s wares. Though, it wasn’t until he actually held it and felt the cool ceramic touch on his skin and the shape in his hands, did he realize it was not so much curiosity as it was familiarity. Or something close to it.

And again, it was proven to Link that while his head was clear of what made him himself in the past, there were many things that his body seemed to remember. Muscle memory helped him ride horses like a pro straight away, and instinct along with that allowed him to fight the way he had before without needing to relearn much of anything. It was the same sort of thing for the ocarina; as soon as he brought the mouthpiece to his lips, his fingers knew exactly where to go to play notes he didn’t remember and songs he couldn’t recall. It all came to him naturally as if playing it was once something that was ingrained in him. And he found himself occasionally fiddling with it until now. Too busy to really sit down and learn anything new, but playing what his lips and fingers remembered when he had a moment to himself.

If Link couldn’t leave Revali a proper gift on his Hatchday, then at least he could play his song, one of the last things the world had left to remember him by. Whether it was for Revali himself, if he was still there, or if it was in his memory on his day.

Or, even if it was just for Link; a way to remember Revali with what little he had left.

Hopefully, it would be enough. But it definitely didn’t feel like it, even if it was all he could really do.

“An ocarina certainly does suit you,” Kass said, looking at the instrument in Link’s hands before peering at him and pointing at it. “Ah, may I?”

Link nodded, allowing Kass to take the ocarina in his hands and examine it himself.

“Can you play it, too?” Link asked.

Tittering, Kass replied, “Well, Rito aren’t exactly equipped to play wind instruments, considering our anatomy.” He tapped his beak. “Though, I think once I found a way around it to make it work with this blasted thing on my face. Would you mind if I tried?”

Link’s lips tightly creased together to keep him from smirking as he shook his head and motioned toward the ocarina. He watched as Kass brought it to his beak, which clacked against the ceramic as he tried to find the best position.

Kass’ feathers ruffled; clearly, he was flustered, but he tried his best to get past it by laughing it off. “Well, this is certainly humbling. This proves that no matter how esteemed of a bard I may be, I simply cannot master everything...What with my pesky beak and less than graceful fingers.” He rubbed the mouthpiece of the ocarina on his scarf before handing it back to Link.

With how much spit he saw flying from Kass when he was trying the ocarina, Link decided to rub it again on his clothes for good measure.

Kass let out another embarrassed chuckle and twisted around to grab his accordion. “I might not be able to give you direction, but I can teach you the notes.”

Link nodded. “That works,” he said, his last words before readying his hands to focus on his ocarina rather than on speaking.

Smiling while he slid his hands through his instrument’s straps, Kass said, “Well, let’s begin then.”

Link opened his mouth to say something, finding himself gaping at Vah Medoh, but clamped it shut again. He attached the ocarina to his belt for a moment to speak with his hands.

Whether he was really alone or if there was still someone there to see him, he was not sure at all. After the defeat of Ganon, he was never sure what happened to Revali or the others.

Even so...he had the feeling he wasn’t quite alone.

But maybe that was just him being hopeful. Hopeful that he wasn’t just making a fool of himself. Grasping at straws for nothing.

“Hi.” Instantly, he cringed at himself and hissed through his teeth. Now he really felt stupid. Nonetheless, he made himself go on. “I’m not sure if you’re even here right now or if I’m talking to myself. But, either way-“ Link took a second to swallow and fix his eyes back down to the ground beneath him. “I wish I could say I remember you. There are only little things I remember, but something is telling me there’s so much more to you...to us...that I’m still missing.”

Link licked his lips. He hoped that he was, in fact, alone, so Revali wouldn’t be seeing him rambling on to himself.

“But I know that we were close somehow. I feel that, once, you were the most important thing to me, but that’s all I know. I’m sorry.” He bit his lip that was still wet from when he licked them. “That’s why when I remembered it was your birthday-“ Link froze, then corrected, “Sorry, hatchday...I knew I had to do something for you, because, in a way, you still matter to me now as much as you did before. But you’re still a mystery to me; I know nothing about you further than you being a Champion and being the pride of your people.” He laughed a little to himself. “And that you didn’t like me at all. At first, at least. I’m not sure.”

Finally, he racked up the courage to look back up at Vah Medoh. “I do know your song though, which I’m sure you’d like to know is played by bards to keep your memory alive. I’m not one of those at all, but I can just barely remember how to play this thing and Kass taught me how to play your song. One of the things of yours that’s still here- Even if these are all the memories I can ever have of you, at least I can have this. And your bow, too.”

Nervously, he started to chuckle to himself. “I don’t know what I’m saying. Maybe I never should’ve said anything. Anyway, the point is...I know it’s a crummy present and I don’t know if you’re even still here to listen, but I learned how to play your song for you.”

Done with his monologue, Link anxiously took the ocarina off of his belt. For a moment, he stared at it and focused on the cool touch of it in his hand before slowly bringing it up to his mouth. He took in a deep breath while his fingers went to their places and he played what he learned for Revali.

Dormant, Vah Medoh said nothing in reply, leaving Revali alone to revel in both Link’s appearance and song. That was fine. He honestly hadn’t expected her to reply anyway.

Even when he couldn’t even remember him, Link was still annoyingly sentimental. It brought bittersweet comfort that, even with everything that had happened, it was still the same Link before him. His Link.

He had the same golden hair he used to run his fingers through. The same lustrous, sapphire eyes he used to stare into. The same quiet laugh that warmed Revali’s heart. The same strength that Revali both envied and once fell in love with. The same kindness. The same courage. The same everything. Every little thing Revali loved and even hated about him was still there, down below, playing a song for someone he didn’t even know anymore.

Still, it hurt knowing Link didn’t know him. Seeing no recollection on his face when Link first came to Vah Medoh...Seeing Link looking at him as if he was a stranger…

Well, it nearly broke his heart. To be eventually forgotten by his people was worse enough, but then to have the one he loved come back to him only to forget him, too…

Revali sniffed, resting his hand under his chin to watch Link far down below.

Link was right. This was a crummy present. His finger clumsily fumbled around and he kept blowing into the ocarina’s mouthpiece too hard or too soft. Even from here, he could see his spit flying. Funny how, even over a hundred years later, he never did get better with that thing.

He really was still his Link. Just how he remembered him. Just how he loved him. How he would, unfortunately, always love him. Even if it meant being unrequited for the rest of time.

~~~

GASPS OUT OF BREATH,,,,,, WOW OKAY,, umm LOL here is le @revalinkexchange gift for @mars-janka ??? I. hm. certainly took some liberties and for some reason with my srs lack of expertise ..I was like “HEY I KNOW HOW TO MAKE THIS INFINITELY HARDER ON MYSELF!!! WRITE AND ALSO DRAW A BILLION PICTURES WHICH IS SOMETHING I BARELY KNOW HOW 2 DO.”

//sobs// i was so drained of my life juices by the end that the quality DROPPED and im genuinely so sorry pls forgive me wwwwwwwwwwww- i even redrew the last link panels to try and make it better if u can believe it LOL i also was considering making a prose only version of this to make up for it but i honestly don’t know how to translate some bits to that...SO- ah

anyway...yaaaaaaaahhh happy valentine’s day!! hope u still like it despite my clear depletion of life juices dskjghkjag

also teehee ty @udog for helping me w vah medoh u smell

#i also was planning on posting it on ao3 but.#but frankly posting it here with the images was a fucking NIGHTMARE as it is so im. not... exactly interested in doing that anymore LOL #it's fucking 6:30 am im going to SLEEP so i can have enough energy to draw teba in a maid outfit as my own present to myself. HAHA #dont ask me when i'll return to our regularly scheduled programming i kind of never want to take drawing seriously ever again ASHGKASDGKJDHG #revalink #revali #botw #revalinkexchange #revalink exchange #?#bweh #botw revali

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

Update - Harry Styles

i’ve been deep inmy harry feels and this thought just wouldn’t leave me alone so i had to write it. im thinking about starting a taglist for harry, i think i’ll write more about him in the future. let me know if you’d be interested in the taglist!

word count: ~5.9k

masterlist

Sequel: The best present

Harry is not that into YouTube videos, has never really been, which is kind of ironic seeing the number of videos on the internet that is about him. The man himself who makes everyone talk online feels weird seeing someone talking on his screen, looking into his soul as if they were right there with him. But today he felt the sudden urge to be like his peers and get lost in random rambling videos from strangers, who felt the need to put themselves out there.

He has made a mean cup of tea for himself, made himself comfortable on his couch with his laptop balancing on his thighs and now is opening up his browser to unwind in an unusual way. As YouTube opens in front of his tired eyes, he stops when he tries to type in the keywords he is searching for. What is he looking for really? He thinks to himself trying to remember what he heard from his friends when they talked about funny or interesting videos. One thing is for sure, he is trying to avoid watching videos of himself in any content. He has had enough of him for the day, it’s time to focus on someone else, even if he doesn’t know the person.

He scrolls through several pages of many different keywords until he settles for a video where a girl talks about how her latest moving day went. Starting off Harry feels weird listening to her talk about such personal things as where her bed went in her room, how she packed all her stuff to fit them in the boxes, but soon enough this feeling settles and he starts to realize it’s kind of relaxing.

It doesn’t take too long for him to fall down a rabbit hole and by the time his tea empties out from his cup he is intensely watching a guy rant about his boss at Subway while doing a mukbang. The latter is a new discovery for Harry, he has never heard of it before, but he can see why some people find it satisfying.

The video ends, Harry checks the time and sees that it’s already after midnight and he hasn’t even realized how fast time flew by.

“Alright, just one more,” he mumbles to himself scrolling down the column of the recommended videos until his eyes stop at one particular upload at the very bottom.

July update for my Sammy, ready the title and an eye-catchingly beautiful girl is smiling from the thumbnail. He finds her breathtaking, the lack of makeup, the worn out hoodie she is wearing and the many various plants in the background makes it appear she is sitting in the middle of the forest.

Harry finds himself clicking on the video before he could even decide consciously to watch it. The screen loads and the girl appears in front of him, this time in a much larger size.

“Hi Sammy, welcome back to our channel,” she starts with an angelic little laugh as she pulls her shoulders up to her ears as if the camera is making her shy. She has no reason to be shy, Harry thinks to himself. His second thought is about Sammy, he is one lucky guy to know this angel and have her think about him. “It’s Y/N here, your one and only sister,” she adds.

Sister. The word brings Harry relief and he is surprised to feel this way, but he has no time to think anything of it because she starts talking again.

“Here is my July update, I’m sorry I’m a little late, but we got back from Oregon yesterday. Aunt Ella is sending you kisses and hugs, she missed you at the barbeque, or maybe it was just your helping hand at the grill,” she chuckles to herself, probably recalling the memory.

Harry has no idea who Aunt Ella is or where she lives in Oregon, but the way she talks about it makes him feel like he is part of the family a little.

Y/N carries on and starts talking about everything that has happened in July. Painting the shed at her parents’ home, buying a new armchair, one her cat absolutely adores and refuses to sleep anywhere else now, she went to the hairdresser to get a trim, but not too much. She tells about her plans for August, how she is thinking about going to the farmers’ market more often, and she has been playing with the idea of adopting another cat.

“I think Henry has been feeling a little lonely lately. He could use a buddy,” she tells the camera, her eyes moving to the side from where a weak but moody meow can be heard as an answer. “Yeah, I think he agrees,” she chuckles and Harry finds himself smiling at the screen.

At the end of the video she asks a few questions from Sammy, how he has been doing, if his wrist feels any better, even asks about a friend called Matthew. Harry wonders if she has ever gotten the answers to her questions and where Sammy saw this video. What is he doing that made her want to do an update on YouTube?

When the video ends Harry clicks on her profile faster than he would willingly admit to anyone and it’s like he opened the gate to paradise. Tens and maybe hundreds of videos are queuing on her page, monthly updates, birthday wishes, short story times about family gatherings, news and happenings in her life.

Harry gets lost in her tales. He watches video after video, noticing the smallest details about her, almost mentally taking notes about her updates, finding anything and everything she talks about so interesting as if he knew those people and places she mentions. He comes to realization that Sammy is her older brother who is serving somewhere in the military. Y/N is making the videos to update him about her life even if she knows most of them doesn’t get to him until weeks later, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. He also learns that Sammy sends them back lengthy emails once a month and always ends them with a joke they made up with his mates at the army. Y/N loves them even when they're not even funny, she never fails to mention that she smiled reading them.

Hours pass by and the rising Sun peeks inside the window pulling Harry back to his own reality, shocked that he just spent the whole night watching her videos and didn’t even realize how deep he has gotten in her life. Lucky for him he has nothing planned until the afternoon, so shutting his laptop he sets it aside and heads straight to bed, but lying between his silky sheets he catches himself staring out the window, wondering what Y/N might be doing right now. From what he collected she lives somewhere in Spokane and has family in Seattle and Portland, which puts her quite a few time zones behind him. He finds the thought of them going to bed at the same time despite the distance a little funny. He lies in bed for quite some time before he finally drifts off to sleep with a particular girl on his mind, who doesn’t even know he is thinking about her.

“Do you think you can fall for someone you have never met?”

Harry’s question catches Mitch a little off-guard, but he is kind of used to his random bits of thoughts. Pouring some sugar into his coffee he follows the wondering singer to a free table in the corner.

“Isn’t it what all your fans feel?” he answers with a question, earning a surprised look from Harry. He hasn’t thought about this side, now the situation is kind of ironic, he supposes.

“Y’re right,” he nods stirring his coffee around in the small cup.

“Want to let me in on your thoughts?”

Harry feels a little shy to admit how he has watched all of her videos in the past few days, 207 to be exact and now he feels an oddly deep connection to this girl he has never even seen outside of a screen. Last night he dug up her Instagam profile, and even though she is not posting as frequently as she does on her channel, it was a refreshing change to see her in different settings. Chilling at a lake, having drinks with her friends, playing with her parents’ puppy, it amazed him that she has a whole life outside that small portion she lets him see in her videos.

Hesitantly, but he tells his friend about his latest hobby, if it’s not too weird to call it that, while his friend patiently listens and nods along his words while sipping on his morning coffee.

“D’you think I’m crazy?” Harry sighs leaning back in his seat, looking at his friend and colleague for validation that he hasn’t lost his mind entirely.

“Definitely not,” he chuckles shaking his head. “It’s like falling for that girl in school you know so much about but never really met.”

“Only that I’m stalkin’ this poor girl.”

“This is not stalking. We both know it’s far from that.” Harry nods with slight relief that his situation doesn’t seem as bad as he has been feeling lately. “Have you gotten in touch with her?”

“And what am I supposed to do? Comment on her video that I think her cat’s a cutie and I watched all her videos in three days ‘cuz I think she’s beautiful and I find her voice soothing?”

Mitch lets out a soft chuckle at the oddly specific answer he just gave and finds it amusing how interested his friend has grown about someone in such a short time.

“Maybe phrase it a little different.”

“So you do think I should reach out?”

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t. Use your personal YouTube, leave her a nice comment. Maybe she’ll reply.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know, Harry,” he chuckles. “Just go with it and you’ll see. You are obviously interested in her, it’s better than just sit and watch her videos.”

Harry agrees. It wouldn’t hurt to try to reach out to her, possibly in a not too creepy way. Maybe just a sweet comment on one of her videos and if she replies… Well, he doesn’t know what comes after, but he’ll figure it out.

Y/N updates regularly. Usually once a week and mostly it’s Sunday when a new video gets uploaded. This next Sunday Harry finds himself checking her page occasionally through the day to see if there’s a new update, but it seems like she is missing today. Right until he is driving home and gets a notification from the app.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video! It reads and Harry’s heart beats a tad bit faster. He thinks about pulling over to see it right away, but he tells himself that would be a bit too much, so he is forced to wait until he is in the comfort of his home.

Finally sitting on his couch he opens up his laptop and clicks on the video that has the title: September update.

Y/N sits in her usual spot, Henry in her arms as she is gently stroking his head with a warm smile on her face.

“Hi Sammy! Welcome back to our channel,” she greets him with her usual words and Harry loves how she calls the channel theirs. “This is my September update, even though not much has happened,” she breathes out, eyes wandering to the window besides her and Harry wonders what she sees from her window every day. Does she live in the city? Is it an apartment or a house with a backyard? Are there any trees or does her room have a terrible view, maybe just another house next to hers?

She starts her talk about the month, which she spent mostly with working, a little shopping and meeting her friends. She tells him about her planned trip to the local shelter to see possible new kittens to add to her household and Harry feels himself growing excited about it. He even thinks about what kind of cat he can see get along well with Henry even though he has never even met him.

“Anyway, mom and dad miss you, I miss you too. I loved your joke about ducks in your latest email,” she chuckles sweetly, bringing a smile to Harry’s face as well. “Mom is excited to see you at Christmas, our cousins will come to Portland as well. Maya can’t wait to play Jenga with you, she said she’s been practicing.”

The video soon ends as Y/N tells Sammy how much she loves him and eventually turns the camera off.

He straight away moves the cursor to the beginning of the video and as she starts talking again he scrolls down to the comment section that’s entirely empty. There are only two views on her video, usually a hundred is the max, but she doesn’t seem to care about the views, it’s more about the message.

He clicks to type a comment, but his hands stop above the keyboard as he tries to think of what to write. Mitch was right about taking a chance at reaching out, but what is he supposed to write exactly? Everything that comes to his mind sounds so creepy and scary, and he knows it’s weird that he formed such a deep connection to an unknown girl online. At last he starts typing.

“Hi Y/N! I’ve stumbled across your videos the other day. Love how you keep your brother updated, it’s such a nice gesture. I hope life treats you and Sammy well, you truly deserve it. Good luck with finding a buddy for Henry! Love, an admirer of yours, H.”

He reads it back several times, deleting then retyping it again until he decides to just go with it. A rush of adrenaline washes over his body when he sends the comment and it’s officially out there. Secretly he wishes she would reply right away, but moments pass by, then moments turn into minutes and nothing happens. His comment stands there alone and he has to realize that maybe she will never even reply or even see it.

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself as he shuts the laptop down and goes on to do his things, but he finds his thoughts wander over to her from time to time.

He has a busy day ahead of him the next day, quite a few meetings and a fitting. He checks back for a reply in the morning, but it slips his mind the moment he leaves from home and his phone rings right away. Throughout the day he basically barely has time to check his emails, his other notifications are just sitting patiently on the bar, waiting for him to acknowledge them. It’s way past five in the afternoon when he finally have some time for himself after his fitting. He is sitting in his car, people walk past him without even realizing who is sitting behind the tinted windows. Scrolling down he gets rid of everything that doesn’t seem urgent until his eyes stop at one particular notification.

“Y/N replied to your comment,” he reads it out loud, just to make it real, as if he is seeing it wrong and saying it with his own mouth brings it to life. He quickly taps on it and the familiar video opens up and while Y/N starts talking again the screen jumps down to the comments where, in fact, there is a reply from her.

“Dear H! Thank you for your heartfelt comment! I always forget it’s not just my family who sees these videos, but I’m happy you found them interesting enough to watch a few of them.”

“A few?” Harry huffs to himself feeling a little ridiculous he has watched all of them.

“I hope I didn’t bore you too much. Thank you for the well wishes for me, my brother and Henry too. He is sending his love to you. Y/N xx”

The comment was posted three hours ago. The thought that she has acknowledged his existence with not only reading but also replying to his comment brings him extreme joy. He reads her words over and over again, looking for any clue that would give away that she found his comment weird, but it seems like she was more surprised and happy that someone else saw her video besides her brother. Harry starts to type his reply without hesitation.

“Bore me? You saved me from watching another “what’s in my bag” video the other day. It was a pleasant change. I love your plants, by the way. Your room always gives off the most relaxed vibes. It reminded me I should have more of them in my home. H”

Harry smiles to himself posting his comment, the fear of appearing like a stalker long gone from him, the interaction is making his inside blossom from joy. For his biggest surprise a reply appears just a few minutes away and Harry reads Y/N’s new lines with deep hunger.

“Those videos suck the life out of me every time! I might be having a problem with buying too many plants, but I can’t help myself. They truly bring peace to me just by looking at them. I’m glad you are planning on buying some more, you won’t regret it!”

Harry is dying to reply, but he doesn’t want to look too eager and needy, so he opts for just liking her comment to let her know he read it and agrees. He locks his phone and puts it aside with the widest smile on his face as he starts his car and leaves his parking spot.

Two weeks pass by. In those two weeks Y/N uploads two more videos, one about her time with her grandparents, for a change it was filmed at their home and they even said hello in it. Harry feels wholesome seeing her with her granny and grandpa, it’s clear she cares a lot about them. The other video is just a short one where she has met some of Sammy’s old high school friends and she had a check in from them, sending a sweet message to him through the video. Harry doesn’t doubt how much these little things mean to Sammy, even if he doesn’t get to see them right away. Seeing Y/N alone boosts his mood every time she uploads a new video, he can only imagine how they make Sammy feel.

He leaves comments on her videos without a second thought and she replies to all of them, a lot of the time almost immediately. These are the highlights of his days without exception. Knowing that she has anything to do with him just fascinates him and he is starting to realize what his fans feel towards him on a different level. Whenever he sees the notification that she has replied to what he wrote or that she uploaded a new video he flies right to her page to check it, no matter what he is doing. Some of their comment threads turn out pretty lengthy, almost like a chat conversation and it has Harry wonder how they could maybe move it to somewhere else from the comment section.

He wants to ask for her number, but figures it wouldn’t be the best idea. Regardless of how much he enjoys their short little conversations, the situation is still weird and complicated and he doesn’t want to forget that.

But he is pleasantly surprised when she brings it up herself, to move the conversation to somewhere else.

“Would love to discuss that more with you. Up for exchanging IG names?” her question reads and he blinks a few before he fully comprehends that she wants to talk to him more in private. However there’s no way he can send her his real Instagram profile and making a fake one would be way too suspicious. Opening up the private messages he sends her a short, but informative message.

“I don’t use Instagram, but feel free to text me,” and then his phone number.

He sits at the dinner table anxiously, waiting for his phone to light up from a new text, and just a few minutes later it finally comes.

“Hi! It’s Y/N,” he reads from the notification and he saves the number right away.

“Hello! Save me as Harry. I haven’t even told you my name yet, how rude of me!” he replies chuckling to himself.

“Will let it slip this time. Harry. What a nice name!”

“Is it what you thought about from the H?”

“It was one of my theories. The other one was Hayes, but Harry fits you better.”

“You haven’t even seen me, how do you know what name fits me?”

“I don’t know. You had a vibe. There are many great Harries in the world, you seemed to fit between them!”

Harry wonders if she is thinking about him without even knowing that… it is him. He wants to ask her, but decides not to. Instead, he is enjoying that he can now reach her immediately and not through a comment section. He never thought this would actually happen.

The texts never stop. They have so much to talk about! Their entire life to share, millions of thoughts and so much to discuss! Harry is not proud of the time he has spent with his eyes glued to his phone, but he wouldn’t miss a chance to talk to her for anything. Their friends are not blind to the change in him, but Mitch is the only one with a guess about why he has gotten so addicted to his phone.

“Is it the girl from the videos?” he asks Harry one time when they are at the studio, having lunch break. Different food boxes are scattered around them, on the table and the couch. Harry’s phone just light up from a text and he immediately dropped his lunch to type a response.

He glances up at his friend with a shy smile nodding his head. He hasn’t talked about his newly funded friendship with Y/N yet, it feels like as if he tells it to anyone it might evaporate into just a dream.

“So you reached out, huh?”

“I did,” he nods returning to his food once his message is sent. “She’s great.”

“Does she know who she is talking to?” Harry’s lack of answer tells enough about the truth to Mitch. “You can’t hide forever, especially if you are planning on meeting her.”

“I know,” he answers shortly. “But I just don’t know how I could even bring it up to her without sounding like a mad man.”

“She’ll need proof.”

“M’not ready to show m’self to her. What if it changes everything?”

“Then it wasn’t worth it,” he simply tells him.

Deep down Harry knows it’s the truth, but he is not ready to be robbed from the joy she is bringing him. He has never felt such a deep connection to anyone before and they haven’t even met. It’s just a version of her he is seeing on the screen, not her real self. But it feels real to him and he wants to keep this reality to himself for just a little longer.

“I wish I could hear your voice, Harry. You are one big mystery to me, you know that?”

He forgets to breathe for a moment as he reads her message, lying in bed one evening, getting ready to sleep, but he wanted to check in with her before ending the day.

“You know so much about me already,” he types back.

“Not enough, I feel like. Sometimes I’m afraid Nev and Max are about to show up at my door and tell me that I’ve been catfished.”

He chuckles at her words, though he completely understands her fear.

“What do you want from me then?”

“Send me a voice message so I know you are real. That would put my suspicion to sleep. For a while…”

Harry hesitates for a long time until he decides just one voice message couldn’t hurt. Just a short one where his voice is not that recognizable so his cover won’t be over immediately.

“Good night, Y/N,” he tells into his phone and then send the recording to her.

He watches the status change from delivered to read and a couple of minutes go by before she finally responds.

“Thank you. Now I know that you are real. I hope I’ll hear your voice in real life one day.”

“I hope that too.”

His time spent undercover is coming to an end and he knows it’ll happen soon. It’s been weeks since they started chatting, almost an entire month and she’s been hinting her will to see his face and though he has been putting it off, he knows it has to happen.

Fate is playing under his hands, because he is traveling to Seattle for a few days, exactly when Y/N is traveling there to visit her parents.

“I hope you know you can’t leave without meeting finally,” she wrote when she found out they are going to be in the same city.

“It never even crossed my mind!” he wrote back chuckling to himself, however it brought him extreme anxiety that he is now going to be forced to come clean about who he really is.

He spends his whole flight to Seattle making up possible outcomes for their first official meeting. Not all of them end well and it’s just fueling his fear that he might lose her for not telling her the entire truth.

But she is a smart girl, she’ll see your reasoning, he tells himself, however he can’t entirely convince himself that it will be the case.

In hopes of squeezing in more than just one meeting into the weekend they agreed to meet almost first thing after he lands. So after checking into his hotel he heads into the city to finally meet her in real life in a local café she suggested for the occasion. Arriving to the place he is running a little late and she already texted him she’ll be waiting for him inside. Harry is wearing a beanie with shades to try to keep up his cover and it seems to be working, no one has approached him yet.

Stepping inside the cozy looking place his eyes roam around and immediately finds her sitting in the corner, pouring sugar into her coffee, not even paying attention to the door at the moment, but truth is she’s been intensely staring at it in the past ten minutes she has been there.

Harry takes a deep breath and nods to himself before heading in her way, hands shaking nervously as he stops at her table.

She glances up at him with innocent eyes, a smile spreads across her face as she sees that her mysterious Harry has arrived and she doesn’t recognize her until he finally takes his sunglasses off.

Harry watches her face turn from happiness to surprise then utter shock as she realizes who is standing in front of him.

“You are… my Harry?” she asks, confusion laced through her voice and Harry can’t ignore how she called him her Harry. He likes the ring of it.

“M’orry if it’s a little too much f’you, I really didn’t know how to tell ya.”

Keeping his eyes on her he pulls out the other chair at the table and takes a seat across her while she is still staring at him with a shocked and puzzled expression sitting on her face. Then she looks around in suspicion as he wiggles his coat off his arms, before her eyes settle on him once again.

“It’s not an episode of Catfish, right?” she asks making him chuckle.

“It is not, don’t worry.”

“I’m sorry if I’m being weird, but this was literally the last thing I was expecting,” she admits leaning back in her seat. “I believed things like this only happen in movies.”

“Not just there,” he smiles, slowly relieving that she is still sitting there and hasn’t ran out. It’s going way better than he expected.

She needs a little time to put the whole picture together and befriend the thought that she indeed just developed a friendship with Harry Styles through her videos for her brother. The absurdity is still shocking to her, but the more time passes by with him still sitting there, the more she finds peace with it.

Once the shock and surprise is gone they slowly realize they are seeing each other in real life finally. Harry feels overwhelmed, she is even more breathtaking than in her videos and through texts. He is mesmerized by her whole being and could listen to her talk in person forever, he wouldn’t get bored of her.

Time stops existing as they sit at the little café, talking for hours even though that’s all they’ve been doing through texts, but they just can’t get enough of hearing each other, seeing each other’s reaction and be able to see each other and not stare at a screen while talking.

Unfortunately, time never stopped just for the two of them and soon she realizes she needs to head back home. Harry doesn’t want to let go of her just yet so he offers to give her a ride, thanking himself for getting a rental for himself upon arriving. Y/N accepts the offer so the two of them head back to her parents’ home, soaking up the last minutes of their precious time spent together.

“Thank you for today, I really loved meeting you finally,” she smiles at him once they are parked on the driveway.

“I hope I didn’t shock you too much,” he chuckles scratching his chin.

“Just a little,” she admits before they both get out of the car and walking around it she stops in front of him, after a moment of hesitation she opts for a hug that he returns more than happily.

It feels as if her frame was perfectly sculpted to fit in his embrace and Harry can’t imagine how he could go this long without even seeing her in person. He knows it’s gonna be utter misery to be away from her after they leave the city.

“Will I see you before you take off?” she asks letting go of him. Harry looks down at her, the urge to kiss her growing bigger with each passing moment, but he is not sure if it would be appropriate to give it a try on their first time meeting.

“I’m free tomorrow for a lunch,” he tells her and she nods smiling.

“Then I’m free too,” she chuckles.

There’s an awkward moment where they are not sure what else should be done or said and the more they wait the weirder it’s getting so Harry clears his throat as he takes a step back, sad that he has to leave without feeling her lips on his, but he is not trying to be too greedy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he smiles walking back to his car. Y/N waves after him and sitting back to behind the wheel he takes a moment to himself to collect himself after everything that has happened today. His hands curl around the wheel and he is about to start the car when someone knocks on the window. Y/N is smiling at him through the glass and he rolls it down curiously.

“I just…” she starts hesitantly, her eyes wander down to his lips and Harry knows what’s about to happen, but it still catches him by surprise.

Y/N leans in through the window and presses her lips to Harry’s, capturing them in a sweet, long awaited first kiss they both have been dreaming of for quite a while. Harry smiles into the kiss, bringing his right hand up to cup her cheeks as they stretch the moment for as long as possible. Whenever one pulls back the other brings them back for just one more kiss that turns into two more, then three… It takes a long time for them to finally let go of each other.

“See you later, H,” she smiles backing out of the car and running up to the front door, smiling wildly as she waves in his way one last time before disappearing in the house.

Lying in bed that evening Harry is scrolling through his Instagram feed when he finally realizes he can now follow her without a worry. He is quick to find her profile again and hit that follow button. He is happy to see she was already following him.

He is just about to put his phone aside and go to bed after such a busy but exciting day when a notification pops up on the screen.

Y/N has just uploaded a new video!

He taps on it quickly and her smiling face greets him from his phone’s screen.

“Hi Sammy! It’s me again. Welcome back to our channel,” she starts with a shy smile. The setting is new this time, he supposes it’s her parents’ home this time. “This is going to be a short video, but I wanted to tell you about something. Or someone.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat when he thinks about where it’s heading. He listens to her voice holding his breath.

“I met someone today. We’ve been talking for a while, but I could finally hug him today. His name is Harry, and he is a wonderful man. I think you two would get along well,” she says with a soft chuckle. “I love spending time with him and I hope he feels the same way. Actually…” Her eyes move up straight to the camera, something she doesn’t do often. She usually stares out the window or plays with Henry while talking. “I think he is watching it right now. Hi Harry!”

“Hello, Beautiful,” he greets her back with a smile as if she could hear him.

“I wanted to tell you how amazing you are making me feel. I hope I didn’t disappoint. I was so nervous to meet you today, I hope I lived up to what you imagined me to be.”

“You were so much better than that,” he answers again.

“Anyway… I hope you feel the same way. You are the first guy I’m talking about in an update, so appreciate it!” she tells him and he chuckles lightly. “I’ll see you soon, H. But until then… Know that I’m thinking about you.”

“M’thinking about you too, Angel.”

“Sammy, I miss you as always. I hope everything is well, can’t wait for your next email. I love you,” she smiles before the video ends.

Harry heads straight to the comments. This time he doesn’t leave a lengthy one, just a short line, but it has everything he wanted to tell her.

“I feel the same way.” The comment reads. Just a few seconds later comes the notification and he smiles sweetly at his phone.

Y/N liked the comment.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fluff #harry styles fiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry #styles #one direction #harry styles fanfictions

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flowesona · 4 years ago

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Wicker Man - yandere! jungkook x reader

so my child @babeejk wanted a y! sugar daddy jungkook, and i live for nothing if not to fulfil her jungkook obsession so here we are.

word count: 2.1k

pairing: y! jungkook x gn! reader

Most people (Y/N)’s age would spend their Friday night partying, hanging out with friends, trying new things. But (Y/N) was spending the best days of their life entertaining a young, rich CEO who would no doubt dump them for a new pretty face in a few years.

Jungkook was a sweet gentleman. Always made payments on time, and usually never pushed the boundaries. But there were instances where his hands crept a little too far for (Y/N)’s liking, or his grip on (Y/N)’s arm got a little too tight in the presence of his friends.

He was peaceful enough that Friday night, having ordered takeout for the two of them and put on a movie. Clearly, he needed the company of (Y/N) more than their body as most of their previous sugar daddies had coveted.

With (Y/N) placing their plate down onto the coffee table and relaxing into his arms to watch the movie, it was almost like they were dating. Jungkook didn’t dare push this idea often, happy to stick to the simple domesticity they had as if they were already in love and nothing needed to be said.

He pressed a kiss on the back of (Y/N)’s neck, enjoying the fleeting feeling of his lips on their skin.

“You seem tired, baby. Want to go to bed?” The film was reaching its climax, but (Y/N)’s eyes were barely able to stay open.

“Mmmmm.” They replied, not protesting as he lifted them like a bride and carried them into his room to rest on his king sized bed.

(Y/N) had allowed a gentle smile to settle on their lips, their eyes having drifted closed. Jungkook settled himself beside them, feeling equally as at peace.

“I wish every night could be like this.” He mused allowed. “Would you like that, baby?”

(Y/N) was only his for two nights a week - Fridays and Saturdays, wherein he would often have them stay for the night.

“Mmmmm.” (Y/N) gave an ambiguous grumble as he hooked his arms around their chest to spoon them.

“Really? I can’t wait, baby. I love you, so much.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The morning after, (Y/N) woke up to an empty bed. Unusual, considering that Jungkook loved to wake up beside them and talk in the morning. Brushing that aside they stood up and padded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

Jungkook was seated at the counter, glasses perched on his nose and his laptop in front of him next to a steaming cup of hot water (allegedly, it had health benefits but (Y/N) had never understood it).

“Good morning, baby.” Jungkook had a bright smile, beckoning them to join him at the counter. (Y/N) followed his instructions, hopping onto the stool beside him and leaning on his shoulder in a move they knew he adored.

“I’ve been working hard for you this morning, baby. You know, I want to get this done as soon as possible so we can be together.”

“That’s good.” (Y/N) hummed in reply.

“How do you feel about the moving company getting there at two today? That’ll give us time to have lunch on the way.” Jungkook ran his hand down their arm, soothing them as he noticed how they tensed up.

“What?”

“So you can move in, baby. Of course, you don’t have to bring everything here and I’ll be more than happy to buy anything extra you need-”

“Wait, wait, wait a second.” (Y/N) breathed out slowly. “Moving in?”

“We talked about it last night. You agreed, didn’t you?” (Y/N) scrunched up their nose, trying to recall the conversation but drawing a blank.

“No, I never agreed to that. And I never would. It’d break the terms of our contract.”

Jungkook had such a sincere look of hurt in his eyes that it tugged at (Y/N)’s heartstrings.

“We don’t need that contract, baby. We just need each other. You know I’ll give you anything you want, right?”

“And what I want… no, what I need… is for some space. This is just my part time hustle, I still have college and a life outside of this. I want to keep it to two days a week, otherwise it’ll blur the lines between you as a sugar daddy and you as a boyfriend.” (Y/N) tried not to let their irritation show as they spoke.

“Fuck the lines, (Y/N)! We don’t need any of those labels, I just want you to be mine as much as I am yours!” Their companion’s grip on their arm had grown tighter to the point that his nails started to draw blood. Realising this, (Y/N) pried his hand away and stood up.

“I’m sorry if I’d misled you. But I’m not looking for that kind of relationship with you, I’m just looking for strictly business. If this doesn’t work, maybe we should end this.”

Jungkook stared at them incredulously.

“Well…” He bit his lip, deep in thought. “Fine. Life will go on, I guess. I’ll call up the moving company and cancel it. Let’s not end this beautiful thing we have over a silly argument.”

(Y/N) nodded, although they had a horrible feeling in their stomach that it was not the end of the conversation, and Jungkook would stop at nothing to get his way.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) had chosen to make Thursday a ‘me’ day. They cooked themselves breakfast and lunch, did some online shopping and applied a face mask. They had zero intentions of visiting anyone else, when all they wanted to do was de-stress from life.

As they were lighting a candle and listening to some Beethoven, a shrill alarm rang out.

‘Huh. They don’t normally hold the drill today.’ (Y/N) shrugged, waiting for it to cease. However, it didn’t stop.

After a few minutes, (Y/N) grabbed their phone and stepped outside, only to see people hurrying down the stairs.

“Hurry! Fire!” One of her neighbours yelled, jogging past them.

Their eyes widened, but sure enough they could see smoke curling throughout the air and they knew they had no time to lose. Leaving their apartment with only their phone in hand, (Y/N) followed their neighbours down the stairs and out of the building, standing on the pavement as they watched the flames licking at the building and smoke billowing out of the open windows. Soon enough there were fire engines on the scene and ambulances to deal with the people who’d inhaled too much smoke.

(Y/N) found themselves sitting on the pavement, numb with shock. To think everything they owned was going up in the flames was terrifying, even as they saw the firefighters doing everything to minimise the damage.

“(Y/N)! Baby!” Their state of shock was broken by someone yelling their name, and suddenly they were pulled into a tight hug.

“Baby, thank god you’re okay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if something happened to you.”

“Jungkook?” (Y/N) instantly recognised the voice. “What- How-”

“I was in the area when I heard about what happened. I came as quickly as I could.” Jungkook pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead.

“You need to rest. Come back to my place, okay?”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

(Y/N) had ended up staying there far longer than intended. Their apartment had been completely wrecked by the fire, since it had started on their floor. Every possession of theirs, gone so quickly, although of course Jungkook insisted on replacing whatever they wanted.

Jungkook seemed to be very much content with their prolonged stay. In fact, he’d been working from home for the first few days to make sure they were settled in and not feeling too lonely. (Y/N) would sit with him in his home office, since they didn’t really have much else to do, and scroll on their phone until he inevitably called them over to cuddle with him.

The young man had become progressively bolder with his skinship, never holding back from pressing kisses to their neck or holding them a bit too tightly to his crotch. They hadn’t done ‘it’ yet, but with how he was acting it was only a matter of time.

They were just sitting together, (Y/N) scrolling through instagram and Jungkook answering some emails when the desk phone rang. Jungkook reached around them to answer it, holding it to his ear for a few seconds before putting it back down.

“Your nintendo switch has just been delivered. I need to go down to the lobby and sign for it. Are you okay waiting here for a few minutes?” Jungkook pouted, as (Y/N) nodded in reply.

He pressed a kiss to their cheek before standing up.

“Don’t miss me too much, baby.” He smiled before leaving.

(Y/N) let out a breath they didn’t realise they’d been holding in whilst he was there. But now, they were bored as ever.

A chime rang out, and (Y/N) found their attention drawn to Jungkook’s phone, sitting there innocently. They reached over and picked it up, only seeing a text from his mother asking about dinner plans next week. But they noted how he’d changed his lockscreen to a picture of them, from a few nights ago when they’d accompanied him to a formal event and he’d asked one of his colleagues to take a picture of them together.

(Y/N) suddenly had something to do. They set about trying to unlock Jungkook’s phone, first trying their fingerprint and face ID but to no avail. Then, realising that he had a numeral password they tried typing in a few dates - his birthday, his parent’s anniversary. Then, out of sheer boredom and with only one attempt they tried their own birthday only for them to be granted access to his lockscreen.

‘Jeez, he needs to get a life if he’s that whipped for me.’ They sighed, as they scrolled through his phone. Nothing was particularly out of the ordinary, until they checked the photo gallery, to be met with tons of pictures of them. Screenshots from social media, snaps from their ‘dates’, selfies with them fast asleep in his arms. It was enough to make (Y/N) shudder with fright.

Another message popped up.

‘I need the other half of the payment, sir, or I will be contacting the police.’

(Y/N) clicked on it, expecting business talk only to be met with something else entirely. Fear settled in their stomach as they scrolled up through the messages.

‘(Y/N) has been evacuated outside, doesn’t seem to have been hurt.’

‘Someone’s called emergency services, but the fire should spread far enough that (Y/N)’s apartment will be damaged.’

‘I’ve started it, it’s spreading quickly.’

It didn’t take a genius to realise what had happened.

(Y/N) dropped Jungkook’s phone on the floor in shock, standing up immediately. They’d walked right into his arms without hesitation, they’d played into his plan perfectly. Jungkook always got what he wanted, no matter the cost.

‘I have to get out of here.’

(Y/N) started for the door, only stopping to tuck their phone into their pocket. They were just by the entrance to the penthouse when they heard talking outside.

They knew they had to hide, but it was too late.

Jungkook burst through the door, accompanied by a stern faced delivery driver carrying a large box. This was subsequently placed by the door and he made a swift exit, avoiding (Y/N)’s existence the entire time.

“Ah, baby I missed you. Here, come and see what I bought for you.” Jungkook beckoned to them, but one look at their face told him he’d read their mood entirely wrong.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He cooed as he approached them. “Tell me, and I’ll fix it for you.”

“Get the hell away from me.” (Y/N) snapped. Jungkook froze. “I know what you did. What the hell is wrong with you? I could’ve died in that fire?”

His face became stern.

“I would never have allowed that to happen. I just wanted to give you a little push to move in with me, that’s all.”

“You’re insane!”

“And you’re too stubborn to progress our relationship!” Jungkook bit back. “Can’t you see how hard I try to make you happy? Is that not enough for you to love me?”

“I never want to see you again.” (Y/N) huffed, trying to show past him only to be caught in his iron grip.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

(Y/N) struggled, but Jungkook’s determination was stronger than their body weight.

“Maybe I am crazy, baby. And you know what that means?” He leant in close, so (Y/N) could feel the warmth of his breath. “You never know what I’m going to do next. So don’t try me unless you want to get burnt.”

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #yandere kpop #kpop yandere #bts yandere #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jeon jeongguk #yandere jeongguk x reader #yandere jeon jungkook x reader #yandere x reader #yandere oneshot

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addictedtojmanga · 3 years ago

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Shoujo manga recommendations - otome game isekai

So, after 10+ years reading shoujo manga, I’ve read over 1k titles, admittedly, a reasonable amount is one-shot (or at least a collection of), but nonetheless, over time I had to expand my interests.

Lately, I’ve started reading the otome game isekai genre, and decided it’d be nice to share the ones I thought were best.

Most of them are pretty much the same, but the best ones usually have a twist, so...

! Warning: You’ll most likely want to beat up 1 or 2 characters from each one, but worry not, so do I and the other characters

1. Fiancée's Observation Log of the Self-proclaimed Villainess

Crown prince Cecil was so brilliant that everything in life was easy to the point of boring him, then one day, his fiancée Bertia suddenly said "Prince Cecil, I am a villainess!" Claiming that this world is the same as that of an "otome game" from her past life and that she is playing the role of the "villainess" in it, she aims to play her part well and have their engagement annulled. With that goal in mind, she sets about causing turmoil in Cecil's daily life.

This one definitely takes the gold for me. Super sweet and pretty funny.

2. My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom!

Most people would prefer being the protagonist of a world full of adventure, be it in a game or in another world. But, unfortunately, a certain girl is not so lucky. Regaining the memories of her past life, she realizes that she was reborn in the world of Fortune Lover—one of the games she used to play. Unfortunately, the character she was reincarnated into—Katarina Claes—is the game's main antagonist, who faces utter doom in every ending. Using her extensive knowledge of the game, she takes it upon herself to escape from the chains of this accursed destiny. However, this will not be an easy feat, especially since she needs to be cautious as to not set off death flags that may speed up the impending doom she is trying to avoid. Even so, to make a change that will affect the lives of everyone around her, she strives—not as the heroine—but as the villainess.

This one takes 2nd place! It has a different result than others, and the FL is great - everyone is, to be fair.

3. Of Course I’ll Claim Palimony

"I'll annul our engagement!" My fiancé suddenly declared?! Apparently he's in love with the recently transferred count's daughter and is planning on making me the villain in order to annul the engagement. Although I have no lingering attachments about the engagement, I do have to claim a hefty consolation fee don't I?

This is sooo good. The FL is spectacular and manages to stand out - even if just a bit - from the rest of the genre.

4. I’m a Villainous Daughter, so I’m going to keep the Last Boss

Avoid the BAD END! That's the goal of the villainess in this plot-twisting story!! She has been reborn into the world of an otome game as the villainess, Irene. Using her memories of her former life, she recognizes flags indicating she's en-route to the bad end, so she makes a plan to conquer the last boss (the evil king Claude), make him her lover, and see if she can open up a new route!

Pretty funny, and the FL is bold. Also, the ML is a bishounen.

It’s one of the few mangas from this genre that has been completely translated, and since it only has 13 chapters, it’s a good way to start out.

5. The Plain & Unnoticeable Me is No More

Elaine Lana Norris, who was born at the top of the aristocratic daughter, was declared abandoned by her second fiancé at the school's founding party. Lana, who has been made a villain daughter, is driven out of her home by a strict grandfather. But there is a secret in Lana that everyone doesn't know about?

I don’t want to give out any spoilers, however, it suffices to say that she accepts her role as the villainess.

Ok, I think these 5 are my favorite, but the ones below have been selected as well, so they’re still pretty good and worth reading.

6. The Villiainess Is Adored by the Crown Prince of the Neighboring Kingdom

Tiararose was supposed to be disengaged and exiled from the country. “This was the Otome game I had played!” She realized on the day before the story’s ending??……. Shall I wait for the judgment? But, I did not do anything too cruel……. Thinking so, the ending continues. But, during the judgement??something that was not possible in the game happened. The neighboring crown prince courted the villainous daughter Tiararose.

ML: 10/10 FL: 8/10 (too insecure for my taste)

7. Endo and Kobayashi’s Live Commentary on the Villainess

She’s always putting on that grumpy face even though she’s not actually that upset! Oh, why can’t she just be honest with herself…!??? She is a tsundere, after all? When her embarrassment levels exceed a certain limit, she will explode into anger. However, the point that she’s suppressing under the surface is that she wouldn’t mind that sort of thing if it were in a less public place.? As Endo-kun passionately reacts to the antics of Lady Liselotte, the villainess of an otome game, Kobayashi-san provides a painstaking breakdown of her tsundere behaviour. Suddenly, one person could hear their voices; Liselotte’s fiancée, Prince Siegward. That is where this story begins.

8. I’m the Villainess, but the Capture Targets are too Abnormal

The villainess, Mystia, remembered her past life on her 10th birthday and has unwittingly turned the characters in the otome game "Kyun Kyun Love School" into yanderes! In order to avoid becoming the love rival of the "heroine" who will lead her to her downfall, she starts making every effort to break off her engagement with her "prince-like classmate"! That’s was what supposed to happen...But, because of her kind personality, her favorability increased instead!

It’s still in its beginning stages, but seems pretty solid.

9. Though I May Be a Villainess, I'll Show You I Can Obtain Happiness!

A collection of one shots.

Great way to start out, it has quite a few options, so if you don’t like one, give another one a try!

10. The Villainess, Cecilia Silvie, Doesn't Want to Die, So She Decided to Cross-dress!

I was reincarnated into the body Cecilia Silvie, the villainess of an otome game. According to the plot, what awaits me in the normal route is either a slow, painful death or an instantaneous one... Essentially, every route leads to my demise. Then I'll change my fate! And that's why I decided to become a man. However, I made a mistake during a certain event, and the story began to head down an unexpected path...?

I haven’t seen any other like this, and if you like gender bender, this one’s for you!

11. I’ll Become a Villainess That Will Go Down in History ― The More of a Villainess I Become, the More the Prince will Dote on Me

Alicia is the eldest daughter of the noble Williams family—a bloodline that excels in dark magic. Her jet-black hair and golden eyes command a powerful presence, but her most unique features are, without a doubt, her sharp tongue and malevolent nature. By all means, she is a villainess, but also a fictional character from an otome game!

12. I’m Not a Villainess!! Just Because I Can Control Darkness Doesn’t Mean I’m a Bad Person!

The novel The Saint Beloved by the Prince is set in the land of Lacia, where spirits control the elements, each of which is overseen by a "Spirit King." On rare occasions, these Spirit Kings may bless a single human, granting them immense magical control over their respective element. The heroine, Amelia Logan, and the villainess, Claudia Leitzya, are two sides of the same coin, blessed by the Light and Dark Spirit Kings respectively. However, while Amelia is beloved, Claudia is hated and rejected due to her dark skin, ebony locks, and aptitude for dark magic. After dying in modern-day Japan, Sakura is reborn as an infant Claudia. While difficult at first, Claudia tries to adjust to this new life, all the while accompanied by the Dark Spirit King Gerald. But even this task is far from easy; people fear her at first glance, no matter how she acts toward them. Still, Claudia is set on changing her fate from the novel, proving she is a good person and breaking free from the shackles of a "villainess."

13. Rebirth of the Villainess: The Life of Letizia after the Engagement Annulment

For some reason, the duke's daughter, Letizia, was plotting to break her engagement with the prince. Her plan succeeded and the prince, none the wiser. But shortly after the engagement was terminated... The King collapsed! In that moment, she recalled her memories of her past life as a nurse and she fully utilised her knowledge & experience as a nurse, to save the King's life. Thinking she had achieved what she wanted, she thought she could finally relax, drinking her favourite beverage and leisurely spend her time, she instead somehow keeps getting involved in incident after incident. The slow and peaceful life is now nothing but a dream!? Lazy daughter, busy seeking freedom and laziness!

14. I Won't Become a Villainess. I'm Just a "Normal" Duke's Daughter!

A Japanese person reincarnated into an otome game chock full of death flags for the villainess, Rosalind. "I'm going to live an enjoyable life in this world!" Making full use of the game knowledge to avoid death flags, for some reason events keep happening one after another?! Contracting with spirits, helping her father (the prime minister) with his work using her modern day knowledge, taking a walk with the holy beast... and on top of all that, even starting up the heroine's event...? Will Rosalind be able to smash through every unknown death flag that comes her way...?! And will she be able to be fluffy lovey-dovey with the supporting beastkin character she liked from her previous life?!

Cute. Has beasts.

15. Milady Just Wants to Relax

She worked herself to death in her past life, but then she was reborn in another world as the villainess Ronia! As expected, her engagement is broken and she's expelled from society, but now she takes that chance to live peacefully, and even opens a cafe with the help of her fairy comrades, which is becoming unexpectedly popular with beast-kin...?

Also cute. Also has beasts.

16. I Swear I Won’t Bother You Again!

Violette, a proud and beautiful daughter of a duke, commits a crime out of jealousy towards her half-sister. Convicted, Violet faces her own heart with sincerity in a prison cell and regrets her sin. Then time rewinds to a turning point—to her first meeting with Maryjun one year ago. Violette makes a decision. She will not make mistakes this time. Without committing a crime and bothering anyone, she will live an ordinary, plain and inconspicuous life...! However, incidents contrary to Violette's expectations occur one after another...?!

17. I Became a Villain Daughter

On her 15th birthday, Hinase Kaede, a young girl who was working as a part-timer, perished in a traffic accident. Upon her death, a self-proclaimed “God” appeared, declaring that Kaede would be brought back to life. However, Kaede’s happiness was short-lived and her soul was thrown into Erika, the villainess of an otome game! In the original game, Erika became a saint candidate alongside the heroine, committed evil deeds over the course of the candidacy, and ultimately faced condemnation. Thus, Kaede decides that she will not get close to the main characters of the game so as to avoid the bad end, but yet——?

#manga #shoujo #shojo #shoujo manga #shojo manga #manga cap #romance #otome game #isekai #mangacap #shoujo recommendation #bakarina #bertia #endo and kobayashi’s live commentary on the villainess #fiancée's observation log of the self-proclaimed villainess #villainess

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m88n · 4 years ago

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[7.01 pm] - when a night spent together with mark lee makes you question his motives

►listen to boyfriend - ariana grande

You recall the events of yesterday night as you make your way to the upscale burger joint that’s been designated as the meeting point for a group of friends. Lingering touches, soft breaths. Whispers of sweet nothings from a boy with clear eyes and unspoken thoughts. You don’t know what happened there—one thing led to another, and before you knew it, you were cuddling with him under his cold covers, the touches of his skin and lips becoming all too familiar to you.

Lost in your thoughts, you realize that you’ve finally reached the diner. You reach for the door handle to enter the vicinity.

Images of his slender fingertips on his game controller flashing through your mind, you two were supposed to just spend time playing games as new friends with similar hobbies. But before you knew it, you were exchanging gazes in the silence of his studio apartment, and suddenly, you were kissing each other.

You’ve been thinking about this since last night.

“y/n, come over here! Happy you made it,” A friend calls out to you from a booth.

You don’t know what to make of it, because the way he asked for 10 more minutes of your cuddles that night, yet tearing his eyes away from you all too quickly the morning after, avoiding any lingering touches as he takes you to your cab, makes you question his motives.

You sigh your thoughts out as you sit next to Sarah, the girl who everyone generally dislikes due to her disposition and behavior, but honestly, you prefer to focus on her good parts, like her bubbliness, and her ability to bring people together.

“Hey, what’s up guys?” You greet everyone, and they greet you back in unison, all smiles.

“So, everyone here?” Jeno asks Sarah.

She giggles coyly, then says in a lowered volume, “No, I invited this guy, he’s so cute. I’ve been trying to get to him since last month ever since I saw him in my stats class. Finally got his number last week,” She finishes, playing with her hair.

“Oh, alright. That’s taking awfully long, knowing how you play,” Jisung jokes backhandedly, and you shoot him a warning look, albeit with a smile threatening to break out.

Jisung smiles back at you and looks down at his cup, trying to contain himself from bursting out in laughter.

“Yeah, I know right? Guy’s got a real tight defense, what gives,” She continues, “Usually guys would’ve been all over me at this point. I wonder what’s his problem.”

Sarah turns at you, to your surprise, “Hey, y/n, what do you think? I need to get him for me.”

Not knowing how to respond, you shrug at her question. “I honestly don’t know Sarah, you’d know better than I do.”

“Yeah, thought I’d ask you cause you do these things unreasonably slow, it’s so weird, honestly y/n, you could do so much better,” She responds. You nod at her as she keeps on talking, your eyes lingering at Jisung, who gives you a look full of condolences, slowly shaking his head at you.

“—Oh hey, over here!” Sarah suddenly stops her train of endless lecturing in order to greet someone at the entrance with complete haste.

You breathed out in relief, that is, before your eyes hover over the direction of the entrance.

Mark.

It’s Mark.

“Hey everyone, this is Mark Lee, guy from my stats class, the one I’ve told you about,” Sarah announces to the rest of the table.

“Hey guys,” Mark greets, waving at your group, before his eyes meet yours.

You swear you could’ve seen a millisecond of him slightly raising his brows, but he continues as if nothing’s happened, taking the only vacant seat next to you.

“Hey man,” Mark leans in to greet someone on the table.

“Hey, doing alright?” Jisung responds.

“Not bad,” Mark says as he sits back down.

Even though you don’t mean to, your eyes are definitely shooting daggers at Jisung at this point. He looks back at you and flashes a small reserved smile that’s hard to decipher. Park Jisung, I swear.

“I didn’t know you guys knew each other! Jiji, you never told me!” Sarah bellows from beside you, snapping you out of your train of thought. Though, you proceed to look at Jisung with the same questionable look.

“First off, Sarah, don’t call me that,” Jisung says, “Second, how am I supposed to know Mark’s the guy you have in stats? I’m not an oracle,”

“Oh Ji, always so cute,” Sarah responds as she looks over you to lock eyes with Mark, “That being said, Mark, do you want to switch seats with my friend here? She doesn’t talk too much to people she just meets so you’re probably better off—”

“I’m good here, thanks Sarah,” Mark responds with a polite smile, “I can go in and out easy to get water and go to the bathroom here, so I’m good really.”

“Oh well, whatever you say Mark,” Sarah says, giggling to herself, “Before we order, let’s introduce you to everyone, you already know Jiji,” She proceeds to give out a brief introduction of each of the people on the table starting from Jisung, Mark greeting each one with attentiveness.

“… And this is y/n. She’s a psych major,” Sarah finally gets to you, “She loves stuff like anime, but don’t get me wrong, she’s cool, kinda unexpected, she’s got around like 7 tattoos hidden on her body and stuff yknow,”

“Yeah, I know.” Mark says simply as he pulls the slightest of smiles, shifting his gaze from Sarah to you.

You see Jisung struggle to stifle a look in his face from the corner of your eyes, his hand gingerly coming up to cover his mouth, quickly picking up the restaurant menu before mindlessly looking through it.

“Oh yeah, I guess you would, you could see one peeking out on her wrist,” Sarah says as laughter bubbles out of her chest, taking the menu in one hand, “Alright now that that’s over with, let’s order everybody,”

Everyone talks about their orders with each other, while Mark and you sit in silence for a few minutes as you both browse the menu by yourselves.

Mark finally looks at you from the corners of his eyes.

“….Having trouble deciding?”

You chuckle, “Yeah.”

“Number 3 has beetroot in it,” Mark says.

“...Yeah, I know, but it’s so big. I won’t be able to finish it.” You reply.

“We can share.” He says.

You look at Mark, trying to figure this boy out, but decide upon yourself that it’d probably be the best outcome anyway since both of you love beetroot in burgers.

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea.” You respond.

“Cool.” Mark says.

“—What about you y/n? Have you decided yet? You always take ages to decide,” Sarah suddenly turns to you to ask in the midst of all the chatter.

“Oh, uh—”

“Yeah, she’ll be sharing with me, we’re getting number 3,” Mark chimes in.

“Oh. Okay, well, too bad I don’t like beetroot. Good thing Mark’s nice y/n,” Sarah says in response.

“Yeah, I guess,” You say.

Not too long after everyone finishes ordering, the orders arrive, and you’re greeted by the large burger you’re thankful to be sharing with someone else. You pick up your fork and knife to halve the burger.

“Let me.” Mark says, and before you knew it, he’s already in the middle of cutting your burger in half.

“Thanks, Mark.” You say to him, smiling. He just smiles back at you in response.

“....Yeah, he’s holding a birthday party next Saturday, at Scarlett Saturdays. I have an engineering essay due on the next Monday, but I’ll be going since he’s my bro and all,” You notice Jeno in the midst of his conversation with the others.

“Jaemin? You mean the Jaemin guy that went after y/n for the longest time?” Sarah asks in between bites. You notice Mark halts for a split second before he finishes cutting the burger.

“Is going after. He asked me to ask her to come. But knowing her, I didn’t even try,” He says, chuckling.

“Why don’t you go for it already, y/n? Even though he’s not really my type, I think he’s mad cute. Do you not think so?” Sarah says, turning to you.

“…I mean, yeah, he’s cute I guess. I don’t know.” You reply concisely, not really feeling like talking about that right now. You proceed to cut a small bite sized piece of the beetroot burger you’ve instead been thinking about for the past 10 minutes.

“Maybe think about it though. Just one night. Jaemin does seem like a bit of a flirt and a player, but I think he really does like you,” Jeno continues, munching on his burger.

“It’s about time you get some action don’t you think,” Sarah follows up on him.

You cough on your burger, startled by Sarah’s remark.

“Water,” Jisung readily hands you a new glass of water, as if on cue.

“Thanks, Ji,” You say, taking it from him, before gulping on it to ease your choking. God, it really seems like you’re not taking any breaks tonight. Not even to eat the beetroot burger you’ve come here to eat in the first place.

“Right? I think you really should go for it y/n,” Sarah insists, “You’re in uni, live your life instead of being inside all the time, watching anime and playing games or something,”

You sigh out, trying to ease the slight annoyance that’s starting to creep onto you. Would people just let you eat your goddamn beetroot burger already that’s starting to turn colder by the minute.

“Say, Jeno was it?” Mark suddenly says out of the blue, cutting his share of the burger, “You take chemical engineering? How far along are you in that report?”

“....Maybe 40 percent or something, probably not good enough.” Jeno muses, “You take the same class as I do, dude? Maybe we could shoot ideas to each other. Jaemin doesn’t take his studies too seriously.”

“Yeah, I’d be open to that.” Mark says, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

With that simple interruption, everyone finally drops the topic and goes back to eating. You sigh out in relief, finally revelling in the relative quietness.

You gently elbow Mark’s arm while smiling, “Thanks.”

He smiles back at you with those clear eyes that became overly familiar to you after yesterday night’s events. But before you get too deep in thought, and your burger gets even colder, you shake it off and continue eating.

That is, before you feel Mark’s thigh brush against yours, and continues eating while he lets your thighs touch, as if… He meant to do that in the first place. You figure that mulling over on these budding thoughts wouldn’t serve you well at the moment, it would only cloud your head even more, and so you finally choose to just ignore it.

“….Hey dude, what’s up? I’m eating right now,” Jeno says, after finally picking up his phone that’s been vibrating on the table for the past minute while the others continue eating.

“Yeah, I got Ben to join, probably a good idea to book 3 tables,” He says, “Can we call later? I’m with the others right now, it’s kinda rude—“

“Yeah, y/n’s here,”

You sigh out, knowing exactly who’s on the other side of the phone. Tired of dealing with the whole topic, you continue eating anyway.

“Yeah, yeah, I asked her dude. It’s a no go,” He continues, “Look, if we’re gonna be talking about this can we—”

“Dude we’re literally eating right now, I’m telling you that’s what she said,”

Jisung glances at you, knowing full well that you’re incredibly annoyed at this point but still keeping it under wraps.

“Fine but if you stuff up I’m not gonna do anything about it alright, I’m just the messenger,” He says, before putting the phone in front of you, prompting you to look up from your plate.

“It’s Jaemin. He wants to talk about the party.”

“Can’t he just call her phone directly instead of asking you to?” Jisung asks Jeno.

“He keeps on telling me she won’t pick up. Persistent, that guy.” Jeno replies.

You stare at Jeno in disbelief. Jeno’s actually a good guy, academically smart, but sometimes he could really be a blockhead, and it always surprises you how that part of him could annoy you to no end.

“What you waiting for y/n? Talk to him!” Sarah says excitedly.

To your complete surprise, Mark snatches the phone off of Jeno’s hand faster than everyone on the table could even register it in their minds.

“Hey dude, y/n’s not coming. Based on what I’m hearing, she’s really not into you. You don’t know me, my name’s Mark, and I’m really into her. Only difference is, she’s reciprocated in some ways. I wanted to do things in order with her, but I’m discovering it really doesn’t matter anyway. If she doesn’t like it, she won’t go for it. And she’s not going for it dude, at least not with you.”

615 notes · View notes

recurring-polynya · 3 years ago

Note

For Stuff For Renji's Birthday Prompts: 1) time travel turn back the clock nonsense, bc I'm an enabler and Karakura teens plus shithead Renruki teens has *Byakuya voice* strong comedic potential OR 2) Hisana lives but due to wacky circumstances, nobody notices Rukia's existence at the Academy... until they've graduated and Renruki have joined Squad 11. Dealer's choice! (Honestly whichever you pick, I might try writing the one you don't. I am not a writer these 2 just live in my head rent free)

Why would you make me choose between these, whyyyyyyyyyy?

To be honest, I almost did them both, but this was the second one I did, and I figured that I should probably do some other people’s prompts, and then I ran out of time. I might do you some time travel shenanigans later. (This should in no way stop you from writing these, I would flip my chips if you wrote something, let alone something based on my horrible ideas)

In any case, I couldn’t resist the second options and I have spun it out into a delightful bit of Byakuya-torture. Please enjoy!!!

Special thanks to @kaicko for helping me come up with the clerical error, because you all know me, I can’t just say “a clerical error.” 😂

Read on ao3 or ff.net

💀 💀 💀

“How is the tea?” Aizen Sousuke asked smoothly.

The tea was excellent, but Byakuya wasn’t in the mood for Aizen’s needy attempts to ingratiate himself. “Adequate,” he replied dryly. “You said you had something to discuss with me.”

“Ah, diligent as always, Byakuya,” Aizen sighed, “always eager to get back to work. I’ll get to the point: I happened to speak with your wife recently at a fundraising event. She’s very interested in the people of the deep Rukon, and said she travels to South Rukongai frequently.”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. “What is your point?”

“Well, I thought it was a bit of a strange occupation for a woman of your wife’s noble standing, but then Gin reminded me that she was actually from there herself, that there had been a bit of a to-do when you two married. I don’t tend to follow gossip myself--”

“I repeat, what is your point?” Byakuya gritted your teeth.

Aizen made a pissy little throat clearing noise and fiddled with a folder on his desk. “The fact is, Byakuya, your wife reminds me a great deal of a young woman who served in my squad a few years ago, whom I recalled also hailing from the Rukon. I wondered if there might be a.... connection.”

Byakuya’s shoulders stiffened. Impossible. He had put watches on all immigrants to the Seireitei. He would have reviewed anyone who came from the South 78th.

“Inuzuri Rukia,” Aizen read from his file, and Byakuya’s blood ran cold. “Shin’ou class of 2066. Unseated. Petite, like your wife. Dark hair. Very striking eyes. Unfortunately, an unremarkable shinigami. Potential for a good kidou user, but didn’t take direction well. More interested in sword combat, although she had little aptitude for it. Ah, here it is. Hometown: District 48, South Rukongai.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Byakuya said flatly. “Inuzuri is the 78th district of South Rukongai. Why would she carry a surname from a different district?”

Aizen made an exaggerated frown. “Very strange! A clerical error perhaps? Hold on a moment.” He stuck his head out of his office door and said something to the shinigami on reception duty. “Fortunately, there’s an easy way to clear this up. It’ll just be a minute.”

Byakuya gripped his teacup, unsure of how to feel. A clerical error. Class of 2066… she would have enrolled in 2060, in the middle of Hisana’s worst turn, when she had been bedridden for nearly four years. Their attention would have lapsed. It made sense.

“She does not sound like your usual recruit,” Byakuya accused. Aizen was constantly finding ways to skim the highest performers from the Academy, all the gifted children.

Aizen looked sheepish. “Ah, well, you see, there was a young man of some talent that I was eager to recruit who was… attached to her. I thought she might have some potential if properly guided, but it never panned out.”

Aizen’s good deed was suddenly beginning to make sense. The girl had transferred out and taken Aizen’s prize with her. He wanted Byakuya to go fetch her away in hopes that the talented one would come home. Byakuya actually felt much better now that he’d identified Aizen’s ulterior motive, and further, that it had more to do with his own petty recruiting schemes than Byakuya’s family (specifically, Byakuya’s wife).

There was a knock at the office door, and upon being bid entry, a young woman walked in. Although indeed petite and dark-haired, she looked nothing like Hisana, and Byakuya remarked as much.

“Oh, no, this is my Seventh Seat!” Aizen chuckled. “Miss Hinamori, you were friends with Inuzuri Rukia, isn’t that correct?”

The young woman’s eyes had gone wide when she recognized Byakuya. “Er, yes, sir,” she said, her eyes darting between the two captains. “We shared a room while she served here.”

“Do you happen to remember what district she was from?” Aizen asked in an overly friendly manner.

“Oh, sure, it was South 78,” Hinamori replied. “Inuzuri, of course.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know all the outermost ones,” Aizen said in his goofy voice again. “Her paperwork says 48.”

Hinamori’s brow furrowed for a moment and then her face brightened. “She and Abarai had very heavy accents when they first came to the Academy, and used a lot of deep Rukongai language quirks. I don’t remember all of it, but they both used to use ‘shichi’ instead of ‘nana’ for seven, especially when referring to their district. They weren’t very fond of their home district. I wonder if the registrar misheard.”

“Well, there you go!” Aizen said, slapping his hands on his desk. “A very logical explanation!”

Hinamori beamed.

Byakuya found Aizen’s need to be liked by his subordinates very unprofessional and off-putting, but he tried to push it aside. He was trying not to be too eager, but this was probably the best lead he’d had on Hisana’s sister in all the years they had been searching. “Where is she now?” he grumbled.

Aizen turned his doe eyes on his fawning subordinate once more. “I don’t suppose you still keep in touch? She couldn’t have lasted very long there, they must have transferred again?”

Hinamori made a face like she didn’t want to say the answer. “I’m afraid that Kira and I had a bit of a falling out with Abarai and Inuzuri when they left. I haven’t talked to them in a few years, although we still have some mutual friends. As far as I know, though, they’re both still at Squad Eleven. I heard they were doing fairly well there, actually.”

The room seemed to retreat around Byakuya. All he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears and the reverberations of the most horrible words he could possibly think of: Squad Eleven.

---

Byakuya knew it was poor etiquette to visit another captain’s squad when the man was out, but he absolutely could not stomach the idea of discussing the matter of his wife’s sister with the Kenpachi, so he waited until Zaraki and his miniature lieutenant were sent out to go trample half of East Rukongai before visiting.

He also knew that he probably should have said something to Hisana, but he couldn’t bring himself to get his wife’s hopes up, only to dash them, should this turn out to be nothing, like so many leads before it. So, the secret sat in his stomach, heavy and acidic, jostling with the guilt of his breach of etiquette.

“Is there someone here,” he gingerly asked one of the gentlemen on gate duty, “who takes care of administrative matters for the squad?”

The man swiveled his head, which appeared to grow directly from his torso with no need for an intervening neck, to his fellow guardsman. “What?”

The other fellow had been busy trying to remove wax from his ear with a pinky. “WHAT?” he shouted back.

“Paperwork!” Byakuya said a little louder. “Is there an office of some sort? A person who knows what’s going on?”

He supposed he could have asked for the girl, Inuzuri, directly, but he didn’t feel… ready.

“I think he wants Ayasegawa,” the neckless guard hazarded.

“WHAT?”

“I’ll be right back.”

Eventually, the burly gentleman returned. With him was a strangely elegant person with a silky curtain of hair cut severely to chin length and piercing violet eyes. “It really is you,” the lovely man said with a level of disdain that Byakuya almost had to admire. Before he had a chance to get offended, the man dipped into a respectful bow. “Welcome to the Eleventh, Captain Kuchiki. Fifth Seat Ayasegawa at your service. What in Soul Society can I possibly do for you?”

“Apologies for visiting while your captain is abroad,” Byakuya replied, not meaning a word of it.

“Oh, he’ll be very sorry to have missed you,” Ayasegawa frowned. “But I’m sure you could make it up to him later.”

Byakuya’s eye twitched. “Perhaps. I have come to enquire about a young woman whom I am told transferred to your squad three years ago.”

“Does she have a name? That might make it a little easier.”

“Inuzuri Rukia.”

Both of Ayasegawa’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth curved into a feline grin. “Ninth Seat Inuzuri, of course!”

Byakuya blinked. “Ninth Seat? Captain Aizen told me she was middling at best.”

Ayasegawa's face suddenly went stiff. “She was not well-served at the Fifth, but she has bloomed here most beautifully. Inuzuri is my personal protege, you know.” He stared at Byakuya under hooded eyes. “What is your interest in her? Captain?”

Byakuya took a deep breath through his nose. “My wife is also from Inuzuri. She is trying to locate someone she knew there. It is possible this Rukia is that someone.”

Ayasegawa frowned. “Well, I can introduce you, if you like. I should warn you, though, Rukia doesn’t have a lot of lost love for her hometown.”

“My understanding is that there isn’t much to love about it.”

“Mmm,” Ayasegawa agreed. “Well, come along, let’s go find her.” He concentrated for a moment, clearly trying to find her reiatsu. She must be a woman of some power, after all. “Ugh! She and Abarai are at it again! Every day!”

Byakuya swallowed stiffly.

“Well come on! She’s out at the training fields, clobbering our Tenth Seat, yet again.”

Oh. That kind of “going at it.”

Ayasegawa was shaking his head. “The two of them are literally an unstoppable force and an immovable object.”

“Abarai was also at the Fifth?,” Byakuya probed cautiously. “I was told they were close.”

“Of course they’re close!” Ayasegawa scoffed. “They’re partners!” He thought for a moment. “Abarai is from the 78th as well, you know. If Rukia turns out to not be your girl, perhaps one or the other of them knew the person you’re looking for. Abarai is one of those people who just… knows everyone. He’s the personable half of the pair.”

“‘Partners’?” Byakuya echoed. “What… kind of partners?”

Ayasegawa stared back at him like he was insane. “Partners.”

This path of inquiry clearly wasn’t going to get him anywhere, but wasn’t particularly relevant, either. “I did not think kidou-type zanpakutou were permitted in the Eleventh,” Byakuya sniffed. “Aizen’s records indicated Inuzuri wields an ice-and-snow type.”

Ayasegawa gave a little shrug. “Zanpakutou classifications are arbitrary. Obviously, if she had a bunch of showy blizzard attacks like Matsumoto’s little prodigy friend, it would be a no-go. Rukia can take the blade of her sword down to sub-zero temperatures. She has a weapon-shattering attack and she doesn’t feel pain when she’s fighting. It’s fundamentally no different than a zanpakutou so massive that only the wielder can lift it, or a whip sword that’s controlled with one’s reiatsu.”

This sounded like a quibble to Byakuya, but it’s not like he had come to the Eleventh looking for sound logic.

“She’s incredibly fast, probably the fastest person in the Eleventh, although no one’s really sure what Yachiru’s top speed is,” Ayasegawa continued on. He glanced at Byakuya slyly. “I hear you are very fast.”

“You have heard correctly.”

“That’s why Abarai can’t beat her. If he could land one really hard hit on her, she’d go down, but he’s not fast enough and she’s just too agile. He’s my partner’s protege, you see, so I have to take their little scraps very personally.”

How did this man talk so much?

“What did you say your wife’s relationship was to her again?”

“I did not.”

“Ah, right. Oops, look out!” Ayasegawa abruptly dove to one side as a giant mass of shihakushou and pink hair and what might be a sword came crashing through the split rail fence surrounding the training field.

Byakuya was not in the habit of ducking, so he merely plunged the force of his reiatsu down into the earth like a piton. It was almost, but not entirely sufficient. Byakuya gritted his teeth as he was driven back, dirt piling up behind his heels as he skidded backwards.

When they finally came to a halt, Byakuya looked down at the meaty youth lying at his feet. This must be the infamous Abarai, although he certainly didn’t look like one of Aizen’s usual simpering overachievers. The first thing Byakuya observed was the eye makeup. Most shinigami applied at least a little eyeliner, on grounds of tradition, but few bothered to blacken the entire eye socket, as in the skeletal facepaint of old. The second thing Byakuya noticed were the tattoos painted across his forehead and neck. They were black and spikey and horrible. The third thing was the hair, which was bright pink and spikey, and utterly at odds with the makeup and tattoos. The fourth thing was the big, sheepish grin, which honestly just tied the whole hideous tableau together.

Byakuya glared down at the lout, and in a moment of pettiness, flared his reiatsu to a level that should have sent blood spurting out of his ears.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to do much to someone who has a weekly sparring slot with the Kenpachi,” Ayasegawa commented dryly.

“Sorry ‘bout that!” the lummox cheerfully apologized as he sat up and brushed himself off. He had an Inuzuri accent so thick you could spread it on toast, an accent that Hisana tended to slip into only when she was extremely bent out of shape. Abarai snapped the sword hilt in his hand, and the tangled pile of steel on the ground neatly retracted into something that looked a little more like a weapon, if a weapon were designed by a creative and overly violent child.

“That’s a captain, you buffoon!” another voice rang out, and every muscle in Byakuya’s body locked. “Show your respects!”

The voice clearly affected Abarai as well, because he leapt to his feet, spun, and slammed into a bow. “My apologies, Captain…” his eyes glanced up and abruptly widened, “Kuchiki.”

“Greetings, Captain Kuchiki! Welcome to the Eleventh Division! I apologize very profusely for throwing Tenth Seat Abarai at you!” A second young person had come to join Abarai in his bow, and they both rose in unison, Abarai looking suddenly pale and nervous, his companion looking calm and confident.

So this was Inuzuri Rukia. She had Hisana’s voice. She had Hisana’s stature, and standing next to Abarai made her look positively childlike. She wore the same dreadful eyeblack, but the eyes that shone out of it were a variation on Hisana’s, harder and three shades more purple. The rest of the face was Hisana’s. Her hair was dark, shaved on the sides, arranged into porcupine spikes on top, although one lock hung down stubbornly between her eyes. Her ears glittered with silver piercings. At least she was free of awful tatt-- wait, no. Byakuya had missed them at first, because they were white. Abarai’s tattoos were spiky and sharp, but Inuzuri’s were graceful swirls, like ribbons wrapping lazily down her forearms. Even her reiatsu was like Hisana’s-- but instead of a cool, refreshing wintergreen, Inuzuri’s was the bone-deep cold of winter, a cold so harsh it burnt in the lungs.

There was no doubt.

This atrocious delinquent was his long-lost sister-in-law.

“Can we help you with something, sir?” Inuzuri prompted. “Abarai here’s a big fan of yours.”

“Shut up, Rukia,” Abarai managed through gritted molars.

“Inuzuri Rukia, you died as an infant thirty-six years ago and were sent to the 78th District of South Rukongai, is that correct?” Byakuya said stiffly.

Inuzuri and Abarai both bristled, a pair of mongrels raising their haunches. “That seems about right,” Inuzuri replied slowly. “My early years are a little hazy.”

“My wife, Hisana also died thirty-six years ago and was sent to Inuzuri with her infant sister,” Byakuya went on. “They were separated. My wife has been looking for her sister ever since. You… resemble her greatly.” Byakuya let the implication hang in the air. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

There was silence for a moment. Then there was the distinct noise of a laugh that, having been held in, had escaped through someone’s nose. “Sorry! Pardon me!” Ayasegawa wheezed, clapping one hand over his mouth and looking away. “Bit of. Dust. In my throat.”

“I told you! I told you, you looked like that picture of her in the Bulletin!” Abarai was hissing.

“I thought you were lying because you thought she was pretty!” Inuzuri hissed back.

“I thought she was pretty because she looks just like you!”

“Now is really not the time, Abarai!” She cleared her throat and tried to stand up a bit taller, a futile effort. “So, uh, so what? What does that mean, if I am her sister? Does that… does that make me noble?”

A higher pitched wheezing came out of Ayasegawa. The level of impudence was extraordinary.

“I would like you to come to my home to meet her, first,” Byakuya put off making any promises. “We can discuss what comes next. As a family.”

“I’m at work right now,” Inuzuri excused.

“Inuzuri, I need to know how this pans out, you can have the afternoon off,” Ayasegawa informed her.

Inuzuri’s confidence seemed to be draining out of her. She took a tiny step closer to Abarai and groped for his hand. “I’m bringing Renji,” she declared.

“Is he compulsory?” Byakuya asked. Inuzuri was absurd looking too, but at least she was small.

“He’s my family,” Inuzuri insisted.

Byakuya’s brows furrowed. This could prove problematic. “In any sort of legally binding sense?”

“We’re engaged!” Inuzuri announced.

“We are?” Abarai goggled.

“I told you I’d marry you if you could ever manage to beat me in a fight! What else would you call that?” Rukia hissed at him in a voice that was still, unfortunately, perfectly audible.

“I’ve been trying every day, and honestly, Rukia, it’s not looking good for me!”

“Can you just go with it for once, instead of arguing with me every time?”

“If you want to leave and never tell anyone you found her,” Ayasegawa put in, “I am very bribable.”

Byakuya was sorely tempted.

---

End note: To further explain the number mix-up, as I understand it “seven” in Japanese can either be said as “nana” or “shichi”. People usually say “nana” for two reasons-- 1) to avoid confusion with 4 (”shi”, although you can also say “yon”) and because “shi” is a homophone for death. Given how shitty the districts in the 70s are, I rather liked the idea that they residents use the “shichi” pronunciation as a bit of gallows humor. (And if you don’t have a rude nickname for the town you grew up in, well, congrats for not growing up somewhere shitty)

I don’t actually speak Japanese, tho, so forgive me if this is all nonsense. 😁

#renji's birthday 2k21 #my writing #i loved writing this with my entire being #thank you so much #all i ever want in the way of prompts is cursed suggestions that come out of conversations i have in the bowels of my ao3 comments #strictly speaking this isn't very renji-centric but he does reach new peaks of himbo-dom in this au so i will allow it #the byakuya - yumichika interaction in this fic is so powerful #also a i z e n

43 notes · View notes

shotorozu · 4 years ago

Text

“you didn’t think getting a classmate thrown at you would cause you to choke in silence— and by some miracle, todoroki is the first one to catch on.”

legend : [Y/N = your name] f!reader with they/them pronouns, all might’s daughter reader, reader has a telekinesis quirk

warnings : swearing because of bakugou, choking, if you ever hit your windpipe and you start choking, get help right away!

notes : i’m trying a new format for fics! (and drabbles) idk why i’m going on a todoroki dump lately, it’s his birthday after all. ALSO I WAS ALMOST DONE BUT GRRR TUMBLR RELOADED. i was so mad lol. so i don’t really like this but DONT WORRY!! i’m making another fic.

»»————-　♡　————-«

It’s been almost 4 months since your first year at UA had started, and you’d think by now— you would’ve gotten used to all the hectic things that had to come.

Nope, not in the slightest bit.

Though you do love the class, and you enjoy being around them since they all seem like nice people, (minus one person) the class itself goes haywire with their frenzied energies.

Sometimes you wonder if you’re able to keep up with them, since they all have such excentric and unique personalities. They somehow manage to keep the room’s atmosphere lifted up with their voices, that are accompanied by lighthearted jokes.

But today, it seemed to be out of your favor.

You’re in your seat, recalling what your father— All Might, had said about your progression, and how he planned on helping you work with your quirk more.

Needless to say, you’re quite delighted to hear that your father wants to pay more attention to you, since he was mostly just focusing on Midoriya.

But your train of thought is cut short when you see Mineta fly towards your way, practically knocking into your entire front, and jamming into your windpipe— as it bounces from you and towards the wall.

“Damn grape fruit, learn some fucking decency for once,” You can hear Bakugou call out to him, and you can assume it was him that decided to throw your classmate at you

“Sorry, Y/N!” Kirishima calls out to you, noticing how his hot headed friend chucked the short, and purple haired classmate towards your direction.

You try to play it off cool, since you can’t even be mad. Even though Bakugou’s quite a spiteful person, he probably didn’t mean to throw Mineta at you.

Your seatmate, Todoroki looks at you as if like he was analysizing you. His mismatched gaze locked onto you with concern, I mean.. how could he not? Mineta has been thrown on you.

The air escapes you for a moment, and you try to breathe in to counter it. But it doesn’t work, as it became futile.

You blink, and you try again— trying your best to just breathe damnit, you’re questioning what’s all of this for? And it feels like you’re suffocating.

It’s all very sudden too, and without any warning. You can practically the way your heart hammers against your chest violently, and you try your best to not make too many movements. Okay, just breathe Y/N, am I having an attack right now? It really can’t be, can it?

You grasp your chair as you need something to grip on— facing yourself away to prevent any attention to be drawn towards you, since that’s the last thing you want. Every second that passes, it gets even more difficult to take in the air, and it feels like your life actually slipping away from your grasps.

Was it even possible to choke from getting your windpipe hit by Mineta? You never thought it would happen to you, since your quirk allows you to protect yourself— curses. What would your dad think of this? It’s not like you expected this to happen in a classroom.

A calm voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and suddenly you feel a cool hand press against your nape— “Did you hurt your windpipe, L/N?”

Todoroki’s eyes scan over your facial features calmly, noting about every single red flag that’s shown on your face, that’s practically screaming for something

You feel shame course out your entire body due to the situation, but you nod— still unable to accumulate proper words due to the current situation

The dual quirk user says nothing. However, his actions are quick, moving infront of you to shield you from any attention. His other hand resting against your back— proping you up right, so your position on the chair isn’t hunched uncomfortably.

His hand caresses your back up and down, giving out instructions for your labored breathing— “Breathe in,” he commands calmly, activating his quirk in hopes of aiding you “Breathe out,”

You finally manage to get in some air, inhaling through your mouth, and sharply exhaling the air back out. It feels so good to be able to breathe again, and you’re confident that after this— you won’t take it for granted again.

Unfortunately, the situation hadn’t been discreet enough— as it managed to grasp the attention of Midoriya and Yaoyorozu, they crowd at your desk. Asking Todoroki if there’s an issue, concern lacing their tones.

But you’re overwhelmed, eyes threatening to close. Your body slumping against your desk, and you fall unconscious.

—

It was interesting describing the situation to Recovery Girl, and also to your father.

All Might being concerned was an understatement. He was concerned about how it happened, and how he could’ve prevented the situation if he was there. (But he’s not to blame, at all.)

Briefly after you fell unconscious, attention was gravitated towards you— as everyone was clearly concerned. Then, you were dragged to Recovery Girl by two of your classmates; Kirishima and Midoriya, since Midoriya couldn’t stop rambling about his concern towards you.

“Your windpipe got hit, and the impact blocked it.” Recovery Girl explains, briefly after using her quirk on you “And it appeared to be that you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you. Good grief, who throws people in classrooms? I could give them a scolding right now.” Recovery Girl rants.

You wince at the problem, “Ah.. there’s no need for that. I’d suppose it’s partially my fault for having my guard down.” You grin, but she doesn’t look amused.

Recovery Girl can only sigh, placing a hand on your shoulder. It’s her way of comfort, you’d guess. “Either way, it was still careless of them. I’d go on and on, but for now, you just need to rest right here— you were overwhelmed back there so it’s important to get some rest.”

Recovery Girl’s partially right. So after resting for a little bit longer, you finally leave the infirmary. But you flinch in surprise; a little startled when you meet Todoroki— who’s leaning right behind the door.

“Ah, Todoroki,” You wave at him, and.. you honestly don’t know where to start. Especially after the classroom situation. “I want to apologize about what happened back there. You didn’t need to do that.”

He shakes his head, “It’s alright, L/N. It’s.. what I had to do anyway.” His brows furrow, remembering what happened back in the classroom.

“Besides that.. are you okay? You didn’t damage your throat, did you?”

You laugh, and it may or may not have been in attempt to make the situation light hearted. “My windpipe got blocked, and apparently, I got the wind knocked right out of me! I didn’t know there was an actual name for that! I should really be cautious next time.”

His lips turn up, and he releases a short chuckle— “I suppose it’s a learning lesson for both parties.”

The walk back is.. rather shameful. How were you supposed to go back there, almost as if you didn’t nearly die? choked? The lack of conversation is painful on your ears, and partially on your ego since the silence is almost awkward.

You don’t know what he’s thinking.

“So!” You decide to break the silence, heterochromatic eyes laid on you as he awaited your response. “What do you mean by.. both parties?”

“Well.. you did say you wanted to be cautious more. Which I get, even though you shouldn’t be that cautious in the first place— since it’s not your fault,” Todoroki stares at his feet momentarily, finding his words.

“And both parties because.. I should’ve asked you if you were okay when I saw Mineta get thrown at you,” His expression crumples up, grimacing when he suddenly remembers that exact moment, he should’ve helped them. “I noticed you were choking a little too late.” He mutters.

Like.. how can he stare at you all the time, and just suddenly not notice you choke?

Your feet stop in it’s place, and you shake your head— “You’re so hard on yourself,” you comment, looking up at the ceilings. “Again, it’s not your fault. I was trying to be discrete— y’know!”

“I don’t want you to feel like you should hide anything from me.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes boring into your own.

Blinking, you think over his words— “I’ll keep that in mind.” You’re taken a back by the bluntness in his tone,

“Anyways, thank you, Todoroki. I.. wish I could pay you back somehow.” You pat him on the back, his heart hammering against his chest when you lean in to do so. It’s doing that again.

You turn your back against him, as you start walking even closer to the classroom— and before you can have your hand on the door, he calls out.

“Shouto.”

“..What?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“You can start by calling me that,” He offers you one of his one of a kind smiles, something that feels so genuine— full of authentic gratification.

An uncontrollable smile breaks through your face, and you immediately turn away to hide away the flustered expression that is your current state “If you say so.”

Choking in class because someone was thrown at you is definitely not your proudest moment as Y/N Yagi, but.. you’ve definitely gotten something out of it.

Shouto speaks once again. “Oh and.. why wouldn’t I help you? That’s just watching someone die.”

You wince, realizing that Shouto’s correct. Why wouldn’t he help you?

bonus : mineta got flamed by everyone afterwards— including a serious talk from recovery girl, and all might. even though it wasn’t inheritantly his fault that you almost died in class lol

»»————-　♡　————-«

tldr : Y/N gets folded by mineta bc bakugou threw him at you by accident,

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing.

do not plagiarize my work :))

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leighistired · 4 years ago

Text

Out Loud

A Martin character study AO3 Link

“G’night mum, love you.”

“Make sure you put the trash out, don’t want it stinking up the house.”

At 12 it occurs to Martin, he can’t recall the last time his mother said “I love you” to him. She must have. He knows she loves him, so why can’t he remember her saying it? Was it before dad left? It can’t have been that long ago. He knows if he brings it up she’ll just tell him off for being silly so he just decides to not say it unless she says it first. She doesn’t say it.

“Look how nice our neighbor’s garden is,” she says instead. “If only we could have such a nice garden.”

“The neighbors hire a man-” Martin tries to explain. He had just done law maintenance over the weekend; he would have to bring up memory issues next time they saw a doctor.

“Aren’t you happy with how I provide for you?” She snaps. “Ever since your lousy father left us I have done my best even with my health and all you can talk about is getting a bloody gardener.”

“Sorry, mum,” he says. It’s better not to argue when she gets like this.

“Forget it. Just get me my tea.”

He goes and brews her a cup of Oolong tea. It’s far too bitter for his tastes but it’s all he buys when he does the shopping. Perhaps that was it, instead of saying she loved him she just provided for him.

Martin tells himself that until she gets too sick to work and begins needling him to get a job at 14. Suddenly he’s providing for her on top of school and everything else but that didn’t mean she didn’t love him. She was just sick and the medication she was on made her tired most of the time so it wasn’t like he could expect her to be excited to see him; especially not when he’s the one bringing it to her.

“Is soup the only thing you buy?” She asks one evening when he brings her dinner.

“You didn’t have soup last night,” he reminds her patiently after a long day of school and work.

“Oh, so you think I’m ungrateful? I am your mother! I gave birth to you! You should be happy to take care of me!”

“It would be nice if you acted like a mum for once!” Martin snaps back. He regrets it as soon as he says it and doesn’t wait to hear her response. He leaves the house and sits in the park near his house for a long time and cries. Of course she loves him. It must be so hard on her to be stuck at home all day with no one to talk to and there he went snapping at her. She’s asleep by the time he comes home and neither of them mentions it in the morning.

Martin doesn’t know what he expects when he starts to transition. He hadn’t even called it a transition at first, he just likes how he looks with short hair, baggy clothes, and a sports bra. His mother disagrees. There are days she won’t even look at him and when she does it’s usually even worse.

“You cut your hair again,” she mentions one morning over breakfast. “Just when you were starting to look like a girl.”

“Yup,” Martin replies tight-lipped. He had been thinking it over for a while and he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that he isn’t a girl. The way she says it hits him sharply. If she was never going to say “I love you” to a daughter, why would she say it to a son? He doesn’t bother coming out to her properly because he can already see the disgust on her face when he gets a proper binder.

When she decides to move into a full-time care facility, it’s almost a relief. He feels foolish for expecting her to say it when she leaves. He feels even more foolish when he says it in goodbye. The receptionist gives him a sympathetic look when she doesn’t say it back but the receptionist probably assumes his mother has memory issues and forgot who he was. She doesn’t. Still, he appreciates the gesture.

Dating is nearly impossible for most of his life. It’s easiest to blame his busy schedule; he doesn’t even have time for friends outside of school. The fact that no one even asks him out isn’t something he wants to think about. After he drops out of school and his mother leaves, dating and friendship don’t get any easier. He can’t let anyone he works with get close enough or they’ll find out his real age and utter lack of qualifications. Online dating is also out of the question for similar reasons. If one of his coworkers saw him with the age 19 in his profile they would either know he wasn’t actually 25 or they would think he was a creep and he didn’t exactly feel comfortable lying about his age to potential dates. Meeting people organically isn’t the worst thing in the world but it’s difficult. He makes a few passing friends at a local trans support group but even then, he can’t get close to anyone without risking someone discovering his falsified CV.

He doesn’t have his first real boyfriend until he’s 23 years old. They meet at a Holloween party thrown by a mutual acquaintance and date for almost five months before Martin ruins it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Dominick, I love you,” Martin says as he serves dinner.

“Oh, uh, it’s a little fast to say that, don’t you think?” Dominick had stammered awkwardly. Was it? It didn’t seem like it to Martin and even if it was, it was true. He loved Dominick.

“I-I don’t think so,” Martin replies nervously. Some distant part of himself starts to berate him for being so needy.

“It kind of is. Let’s just pretend you never said it and we’ll see how we feel in a few more months, ok?”

“You mean we’ll see how you feel,” Martin says a little bitterly.

“Why can’t you just relax and enjoy the holiday?”

Martin had sighed in resignation and picked at the rest of his plate. They broke up a week later because Dominick felt like they were “looking for different things.”

Martin doesn’t have another serious boyfriend after that. He goes on a few more dates over the years but nothing that lasts longer than five months. Nothing that lasts long enough to say “I love you.” In some deep dark part of him, he wonders if he was ever meant for love. His father hadn’t loved him enough to stay, his mother hadn’t said she loved him in over a decade, and he’s not even sure he was in love with Dominick. He gets crushes, sure, but he just throws himself into his work at the Magnus Institute instead.

Working in the library isn’t bad. He gets along with his coworkers well enough but he can never get close to them. Not close enough to love them as friends or be loved in return.

Then he gets transferred to the Archives.

Jonathan Sims is not the first asshole boss Martin has ever had. He doesn’t understand why Mr. Bouchard sent him down to work in the Archive in the first place and his first impression with his new boss is less than stellar when a dog follows him into the building. It doesn’t help that Jon is good-looking and every once in a while Martin catches glimpses of a version of the Archivist without a stick up his ass. Like when he spends Martin’s ice cream birthday talking about emulsifiers. If only he would be clearer about what he actually wants from Martin. No report or follow-up seems to be good enough, even with the help of Tim and Sasha.

Martin works hard for Jon’s approval. He doesn’t know why he wants the recognition but it’s either this or quit and he really, really can’t quit. So he spends three full days looking for every woman named Angela over fifty in Bexley only to be berated for actually talking to one of them and then he offers to look into a case about spiders that clearly upsets Jon only to get trapped in his flat by a zombie worm woman.

When he finally escapes, he takes a few worm corpses with him and he dumps them on Jon’s desk while he’s in the middle of a statement. Let Jon try and disprove that When he gives his own statement he makes special emphasis on reminding Jon how hard he worked to meet his exacting standards. He refuses to be yelled at for this.

Except Jon believes him. More than believes him, in fact. He offers Martin a place to stay. Of course that would be enough to ignite a crush in Martin.

As soon as they get to document storage Martin sits on the cot and begins to cry with exhaustion. He expects Jon to leave but again he surprises him.

“I-it’s alright, Martin,” he says awkwardly as he pats Martin’s shoulder. “You’ll be safe here and I’m certain Elias will respond promptly to my request for extra security.”

“Thanks,” Martin sniffs. He can’t remember the last time he cried in front of another person.

“Would...would you like me to stay until you fall asleep? If- if you think it will help.”

“Oh, er...no...I’ll be fine, thank you. You should be getting home, anyway. It’s Saturday, Jon.”

Martin blacks out as soon as Jon shuts the door to document storage. When he wakes up he finds his crush on Jon stubbornly still in place.

He can’t help himself after that. He starts taking special care of Jon in hopes of encouraging the kind man he saw that night into emerging. At the very least Jon doesn’t yell at him as much and he even thanks Martin for the tea he brings. It’s then that he notices other things about Jon, like how rattled he gets by certain statements and how he’ll often go an entire day without eating or drinking anything unless someone brings him something. That someone being Martin. He also notices how late Jon leaves, if he leaves at all.

It’s on one such night of Jon still being in his office at 11 o’clock that Martin knocks on Jon’s office door.

“Jon?” He calls gently.

“Hzzmt! Martin?” Jon responds, having been startled awake from dozing at his desk. “You should be asleep.”

“And you should be home.”

“I see your point,” Jon sighs. “I’ll finish up here and head home. Unless you need something?”

“Actually….I-I was thinking,” Martin beings. “Since I sort of kicked you off your cot...D’you want to come back to document storage with me? You know, get some sleep?”

“What?”

“Er...forget I-”

“The cot would be rather cramped with both of us,” Jon warns as he gets up from his desk. “If...if you’re sure you want me to join you.”

“Yeah...I thought you had work to do?”

“It can wait until morning, no use keeping you up longer than necessary.”

Martin only half regrets offering to share a bed with his crush. Jon was right, the only way to fit both of them on the cot is for both of them to sleep on their sides (or for Jon to sleep on top of Martin but even the thought has his face burning) and it’s difficult for him to fall asleep with Jon’s back pressed against his. It’s good to hear Jon fall asleep, though, and as time wears on it’s easier for Martin to goad Jon away from work to sleep a few hours.

The more of himself Jon reveals the harder Martin falls for him. Especially after Jon accuses him of being a ghost during the Prentiss attack. Even with the guilt Martin feels every time he looks at Jon mummified in bandages. That was Martin’s fault. If he had just paid more attention then he wouldn’t have lost Jon and Tim in the tunnels. He does everything he can to try and make up for it; despite Jon becoming more and more closed off by the day. Intellectually, Martin knows that Jon has gotten like that with everyone, but something deep down makes Martin feel like it’s his fault Jon’s gotten so cold. It doesn’t help that Jon seems to have gotten friendly with the policewoman investigating the murder of the previous Archivist. Tim even seems to think they’re having an affair which does wonders for Martin’s self-esteem. Jon wouldn’t be the first straight man Martin has ever had a crush on but Martin was pretty sure Jon wasn’t straight. Again, he wonders if he’s done something wrong to push Jon away.

After Jon stumbles out of his office covered in blood claiming to have had an accident with a bread knife Martin finds all the excuse he needs to regularly drag Jon to the canteen to make sure he eats something. The silences during those lunches are hard. They had eaten together before but now Jon wasn’t talking to him. The most Martin could get out of him were a few one-word answers. He tries not to think about how it reminds him of his mum.

“So,” he tries for the millionth time while Jon picks at his sandwich. “Did I tell you what happened while you were at physical therapy the other day?”

Jon doesn’t say anything but he looks up with a gaze that bores into Martin.

“Uh...A little girl came in alone with a statement, she must’ve only been eight years old,” Martin says. Jon looks at him with an expression that almost seems afraid. “Don’t worry, it recorded fine on digital. She walked right down into the Archive, walked up to my desk, and said ‘Excuse me. My name is Beatrice Walker and I’d like to make a statement about a supernatural occurrence.’ She sounded so grown up and she refused to leave until I had recorded her statement. Turns out her dad was using the library for research and she had just wandered off.”

“What was her statement about?” Jon asks to Martin’s surprise.

“Oh, a hamster with mysteriously changing spots.”

“Ah,” Jon replies thoughtfully. “Not much need for follow-up there, I suppose.”

“Not unless you really need me to track down the shop where her parents picked up the new hamster.”

He catches the briefest of smirks from Jon before the conversation dies again.

After that Jon’s coldness and paranoia comes out in the form of a screaming accusation over letters Jon found in the trash. Martin barely manages to make it to the bathroom before he bursts into tears after coming clean about his CV. Tim thankfully doesn’t check on him while he silently curses his taste in men. Jon doesn’t meet his eye for the next week in what he bitterly hopes is guilt. He does seem slightly more willing to talk with Martin at lunch, though.

Then Jon goes missing. After trying to get Martin and Tim to go home early because Jon was feeling under the weather; he disappears. Not before apparently bludgeoning someone with a pipe and isn’t that exactly what he and Tim need to see as soon as they get back from a two-week kidnapping by a spooky door monster?

With Sasha gone, Jon missing, and Melanie King being suddenly hired by Elias, whatever’s left of Martin’s relationship with Tim deteriorates. More so when Martin becomes the only one in the world to believe Jon could be innocent. It’s probably that that makes the police detective “investigating” Jon so actively hostile toward him. Apparently, people say he and Jon are “close” and that probably only means the lunch thing but he wants to imagine it’s something more. Like people are somehow picking up that Jon likes him back.

When Jon comes back to confront Elias it’s all Martin can think to do to fall back on his tea-making. He ducks into Jon’s office with a piping cup of the overly sweet tea he spent months perfecting to Jon’s taste and finds him with his face buried in his one non-bandaged hand.

“Jon?” He calls as gently as he can while he closes the door behind him. “I brought you some tea.”

It’s when Jon looks up that Martin notices the bloody mess down the front of his shirt.

“You’re hurt. Let me go get the first aid-”

“No!” Jon interrupts frantically. “Just...Could you just stay with me for a moment?”

Martin acquiesces and they sit side by side on the sofa in Jon’s office in silence until Jon starts sniffling into his tea. He offers Jon a hug and Jon all but dives into his chest to cry. It’s the saddest most broken thing Martin has ever heard and it’s all he can do not to pull Jon into his lap and curl around him protectively.

“Martin...I-I...I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For everything. For Sasha and Prentiss and...and for the way I treated you. You didn’t….no one deserves that.”

“None of that was your fault and I sort of deserved it. I didn’t actually know what I was doing.”

“You didn’t deserve it,” Jon insists before going back to quietly crying into Martin’s jumper. Martin doesn’t respond. He can’t recall the last time someone’s apologized to him. At least not like that. He’d been told off most of his life for not doing things up to people’s standards. A few people over the years had told him he didn’t deserve it but Jon was the first person to apologize. No wonder Martin was falling in love with him.

Damn it.

Cuddling doesn’t become a regular occurrence for them by any means but Jon begins doing more to seek Martin out after that. They eat lunch together more often and Martin stays up late to talk to Jon while he’s abroad. It drives home how deeply buried into Martin’s heart Jon has become. Especially after he comes back after going missing for a month and has the audacity to joke about being moisturized by a clown mannequin for a month.

He wonders if Jon feels the same way. Sometimes Jon will smile shyly at him, and he can almost believe that Jon would be interested in a relationship if the world wasn’t ending. The last time they speak before the Unknowing they’re in document storage.

“Are you ready?” Jon asks as he shifts nervously.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Martin signs. He heard what happened to Melanie. He knows what’s likely to happen to him. Some small part of him is screaming to just tell Jon his feelings like it’s the climax of an action movie.

“Stay safe,” Jon says.

“Come back,” Martin replies. Jon offers him a hug. It’s no movie kiss but it allows Martin to hold Jon as close as possible. Jon himself is hanging off of Martin’s neck and it feels like a final goodbye.

Then Elias confirms what Martin has always suspected deep down. That his mother never loved him or if there was a time when she did, she stopped when his father left. Even after everything. After he spent years taking care of her. After he had to quit school to care for her. All she ever saw was his father. All his transition did was to remind her further of how much he looked like his father’s son. At least it was worth it. To distract Elias so Melanie could find evidence to arrest him.

Then Peter Lukas shows up and reveals that Elias planned to get arrested. Worse than that, he offers Martin a promotion of sorts.

Then they get the news from Yarmouth. Tim’s body is found in a charred heap, Daisy is missing, and Jon is dead in all but brain activity. At least Basira is physically alive.

Martin spends as much time as he can next to Jon. He’s used to loving someone who can’t love him back. Maybe this is all he’s destined for. Love unrequited. He talks to Jon’s dreaming corpse. Tells him about his day, reads him poetry, even a statement, but nothing draws Jon out of his coma.

Then his mother dies. He barely has the emotional strength to mourn her. Instead, he scatters her ashes and mourns his childhood lost to trying impossibly to earn her love.

After the Flesh attacks, Martin makes a decision. He’ll join Lukas. It’ll probably lead to his death but what did that matter? His mother was gone and didn’t care about him anyway. Tim and Sasha were gone. Jon was basically gone. Basira and Melanie were the only people left that he vaguely cared about and by doing this he could at least protect them.

He visits Jon one last time in the hospital. He’s still covered in wires and his eyes still flit around violently behind his lids as Martin sits down next to him and takes his hand.

“Hey Jon,” he says quietly. “I...This is the last time I’m going to see you...Probably ever. I know, I know old dramatic Martin surely he’s exaggerating. I’m not. The Institute is in danger and...I have a way to keep Melanie and Basira a little safer, so I’m doing it. I just came by one last time to say...Jon, I...I love you. Goodbye.”

He gets up and presses a kiss on a part of Jon’s forehead not covered in wires before leaving. It’s alright that he doesn’t say it back. No one ever says it back to Martin.

When Jon wakes up everything becomes that much harder. Suddenly he had a reason to live and the way Jon pursues him makes him almost believe...No, even completing the thought would be dangerous for all of them. Jon trusts him enough not to be constantly badgering and that makes it worse. When Jon is there the Lonely makes Martin resent his presence and when Jon’s gone Martin resents his absence.

The final, most excruciating pain is when Jon comes after him in the Lonely. He’s excepted his fate in the chilling numbness of the Lonely. Maybe that’s why he says it. The certain, inevitable rejection would be numbed utterly. So he says it.

“I really loved you, you know?”

And Jon looks broken. Even after he rips Peter’s statement from him. Even when he reaches for Martin’s face with hands that seem far too warm and makes him See. Knowing Jon loves him isn’t like “knowing” his mother loves him. Instead of a lie born in Martin’s mind to stamp down the fear of rejection, it’s a reality pouring from Jon’s mind mingled with Jon’s fears of rejection.

Jon’s hands still feel too warm compared to the icy chill of the Lonely as he leads Martin out. Still, he refuses to let go all the way through the tunnels, the Institute, talking to Basira, packing at each other’s flats, and on to the train. The way to Daisy’s safe house feels like a blur and when they finally arrive it’s all Martin can do to remember to take off his binder before collapsing into bed with Jon’s warm arms around him.

He wakes to Jon’s quiet crying. The awful, stifled thing that breaks Martin’s heart.

“Jon,” he whispers.

“Martin? Did I wake you? I’m sorry, I’ll-”

“It’s alright, Jon,” he assures as he swaps their positions so Jon is tucked firmly against him. Jon makes another broken noise and Martin can’t stop himself from crying, too.

“I-I’m here, Martin. You aren’t on your own,” Jon soothes and Martin almost has to laugh. They lay crying and comforting each other until they both fall back asleep.

When they wake up properly they take stock of the safe house’s pantry and make a list of things to pick up in the village after breakfast. Martin gives in to the temptation to buy a new notebook to try and write poetry in. They have enough canned food to survive to the next ice age so they pick up perishable items like milk, bread, butter, and eggs. Jon also picks up fresh peaches and a box of Martin’s preferred tea. It’s easy to pretend like they going on a normal shopping trip as they walk up and down the aisles to check things off their list.

They return to the cabin and settle in. Martin sits on the sofa and tries to write out a poem while Jon tries to read a book from Daisy’s personal collection. After a while, Martin beings to feel Jon’s gaze on him.

“Is there something on my face?” He tries casually as he’s met with an expression he’s never been on the receiving end of.

“I was just thinking about how much I love you,” Jon sighs. Martin can’t stop the noise that comes out of him. All his life trying to earn love and Jon just says it while Martin’s thinking of a synonym for ‘yellow.’

“I-I don’t expect you to reciprocate,” Jon says quickly, his soft expression suddenly turning worried.

“But I do.”

“Oh…Oh!”

“Yeah.”

Jon starts giggling and it’s impossible for Martin not to follow suit until happy tears stream down both of their faces.

#the magnus archives #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jonathan sims #I wrote a fic #this was supposed to be posted on valentines day

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