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cotccotc · 4 years ago

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♡ 3:24 am ; paranoid

set in the domus amoris universe !

genre/s: comfort, angst, fluff, established relationship/domestic au, hyunjin x gn reader

wc: ~1.6k

warnings: use of petnames (lovey, baby)

a/n: this is based on “paranoid” by lauv :))) it has a similar format to “forevermore” from this series but with a lot more elaboration !! it’s been a bit challenging to think of ways to write for him lately, but this is an idea i’ve had for a while now so... i tried </3 lol. i hope u enjoy it despite the sad bits oops :DDD

‘ smile when you're sleeping

wonder who you're dreaming of ’

he’s always loved watching you as you sleep. if able, he stays up until whenever it might be that you finally drift off. as your hands remain tightly wrapped around his body, your face aglow from the kaleidoscopical light streaming into the bedroom through the blinds, he watches and listens to you breathe. in, out. in, out. your chest inflates and diminishes with each deep, restful breath. your face rests in the palm of his hand. observing you intently, he notices as the corners of your lips begin to curl. a smile. endearing, entrancing… unnerving. he hopes you’re dreaming of something pleasant. something you might share with him come morning. he hopes you’re dreaming of him. he hopes, he prays.

but what if it isn’t? his heartbeat hastens.

‘ after all of these nights, laying right by your side

how could my brain make me feel so far? ’

maybe it’s selfish, he ponders, to be thinking this way. to assume the worst. to wonder if there’s someone you could be fantasizing about that isn’t him. it’s unfair. for all he knows, you could be dreaming of something unrelated entirely. he runs his thumb over your cheekbone, grazing the soft skin on your face with such adoration. such love. like he’s done so many times before. and yet, he believes that you deserve better. more. he always has. and he hates himself for it.

‘ maybe it's a case of paranoia

nervous that i'll never really know ya ’

he believes knows you inside and out; frontways and backways; from top to bottom and everything in between. that’s what you tell him, too. you tell it to him all the time. and he tells you the same. because it’s true. in some ways, you know him more than he knows himself. sometimes, when he’s unsure of who he is, all it takes is one look at you to bring his feet back onto the ground. and yet, in these mid-morning moments, he falls prey to doubt. maybe it’s him. that’s what he thinks. maybe it’s just the way his mind works. almost as if a self-inflicted disease is eating away at his subconscious, doubtful thoughts infiltrating his mind against his will. it’s a consuming feeling.

you let out a bit of a sigh. your eyes blink open, straining to focus on your lover’s face in front of you. he feels terrible for waking you. but you don’t know that.

“you’re awake,” you murmur, voice raspy and quiet.

“mhm,” he hums.

“why?”

he’s taken aback by the question. unsure of how to respond. you look so adorable to him. heavy-eyed and somnolent. “it’s nothing. go back to sleep,” he says. it’s not nothing. but he’s embarrassed. why is he embarrassed? it’s you. he shouldn’t be embarrassed. and yet, he is.

“are you sure?” you ask, letting out an involuntary yawn. he’s so enamored by you. you don’t even realize it, because how could you? he looks toward you so fondly. with such endearment. he wants to tell you everything that’s on his mind. but he just can’t.

“i’m sure,” he reassures you. he places his hand upon your cheek, holding your face in his hand as if that’s what it was made to do. it always seems to fit so perfectly. he flashes a meek, forced half-smile at you. you know he’s lying.

instead of refuting his response, you decide not to push. you know he has moments of self-doubt and what he would consider weakness. and you know it’s not his fault. more so than anything, you know that you love him. so, you sit up, elbow propped up against the mattress. you turn on the lamp sitting upon your bedside table, illuminating the room with a dim, creamy tint. you rest your hand upon your lover’s chest and lean into him. he brings his hands to cup your face, pulling you closer. you kiss each other tenderly. his lips waltz across yours, just as they always do; smooth, sultry, with a twinge of honey-like sweetness. you love to kiss his bottom lip, gently tugging at it with your own. and you know he loves it too. especially as it prompts him to thread his fingers through your hair, passionately pulling you even closer to him and kissing you even deeper. you sink into his touch. this isn’t lust. it’s familiarity. it’s healing. it’s the only thing that speaks louder than words. it’s love.

he takes a small, shaky breath, breaking away from you. a single tear droplet emerges from the corner of his eye as he looks up at you.

his lip quivers. your heart breaks.

“i love you,” you whisper, swiping the tear off of his cheek. you lay back down beside him, head resting on his shoulder as you caress his face with the tips of your fingers. you place a soft kiss against his cheek, wanting nothing more than to be impossibly close to him; absorbing his emotions and freeing him from whatever might be troubling him.

“i know that…” he trails off, unable to connect his eyes with yours. “but…” he screws them shut, raising his palm to cover them as his lips contort themselves.

he’s crying.

“i know that,” he repeats. but this time, he sounds angry. angry with himself. he knows that you love him. and he’s ashamed that his brain could ever make him think otherwise.

you don’t know what else to do other than hold him, wrapping your arms around his form. “baby,” you mutter, almost inaudibly. a tear of your own taunts your waterline. you hate seeing him like this. especially when seemingly unprovoked. you know he’s been listening to the voices in the back of his mind again. it’s plain to see.

“i just-” he starts, cut off by his own convulsions. in between sobs and shallow breaths, he stammers, “i… i don’t…” when he realizes he’s unable to release a full sentence, his face turning a harsh shade of red and his eyes wired shut, he reaches out to wrap his arms around your waist and pulls himself closer to you. he places his head against your chest. “i don’t know…”

you stay like this for a few minutes. he shudders against you, choked sobs escaping the lips from which he’s always complimented you, called for you, kissed you… it’s painful to listen to. and even more disheartening to see. as he settles down, you continue to stroke his hair, running your fingertips along his scalp to soothe him. he learns to breathe with you. with every inhale, he mimics the feeling. in, out. in, out. though shaky still, his sobs turn to sniffles and his convulsions fade into calm.

eventually, he looks up at you. his eyes are puffy, similarly to the state in which he wakes, though they remain slightly pink-tinted and dampened from the strain of his tears. “i love you, too,” he mumbles. “and i’m sorry.”

“sorry?” you repeat, confused. “lovey...” you tuck a few strands of pitch-dark hair behind his ear. the skin is still red from emotion and embarrassment. “you have nothing to be sorry about.”

he looks away, shifting around to get even more comfortable against you. his arms are still wrapped around your figure, fingers gently toying with the fabric of your shirt as a means of distraction. after a pause, he continues. “i’m sorry that i get so scared.” he sniffles, drained from weeping so intensely. he sounds stuffy. it would almost be endearing if he wasn’t so distraught.

‘ but baby, i love you

and baby, i’d love to

not be… ’

“it’s not your fault,” you assure him. you know how he feels. with each new day waking up beside him, you’re met with a sense of unworthiness. he’s just so lovely. and he makes you feel like nobody’s ever made you feel before. knowing him and loving him are truly your greatest pleasures in life. sometimes, you even feel selfish for keeping him so close to your heart. it’s as if you hold onto his hands as tightly as you do to prevent him from letting go. as if your grip on his waist whenever he hovers atop your frame is not just an expression of want, but of need. as if at a moment’s notice, he could find someone better than you; someone more deserving of his loving gaze, his angelic laugh, the honor of lulling him to sleep with kisses and reciprocative sentiments of endearment… someone more deserving of the opportunity to love him. still, he feels the same way about you. and you can never quite comprehend the reason why.

“i know. but i wish it would just go away.” he pauses, still fiddling with your top.

“i do too,” you mutter.

he then sits up, readjusting to lay his head down beside your neck. his hand settles upon your stomach, thumb lightly rubbing your skin through the thin layer of cotton. his lips brush against your neck, barely touching it at all. so delightful. your fingers remain entwined in his lustrous tresses. “promise...” he begins, whispering into your skin before finally pressing his lips against you. his voice ripples through your mind like a wave. he speaks with such purity. such sincerity. such need. “you’ll stay with me.” he breaks away, looking straight into your eyes. you look right back into his.

“i promise.”

“...forever?” he adds, stifling a smile. he has to be sure.

you tease him. “will you stay with me forever?”

he snaps out of his almost-contentedness, a serious expression taking shape upon his winsome face once more. “i promise,” he confirms. “i promise, baby. i will.”

“then i will, too.” you smile, gently pecking his lips with yours. as his eyes flutter open once again, blinking intently, he smiles. a wide-eyed, rosy-cheeked, ever-precious smile. the smile for which your heart beats. the smile that only you can evoke, reserved simply for moments such as these. maybe you do deserve it after all. and maybe, he thinks, he deserves the evocation.

‘ ...paranoid. ’

tags: @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @kisskissbanggang, @mr-jisung-main, @childofthecosmos, @changnuggie, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @sunshine-skz, @vera-liscious, @moonlit-lixie, @thatrandomoneinthecorner, @siedhr ( join my tag list !! )

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cvptainandors · 5 years ago

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thoughts on the new movie? :)

hi anon! i’m going to assume you mean the new little women movie bc it’s the last film i saw and also my url would indicate that it’s the only thing i currently and ever will care about (which is the correct thing to assume)

i honestly. loved it so much. which says a lot because my hopes were SO HIGH as i didn’t even have it in me to be skeptical about it bc i was so excited and yet it still exceeded all expectations. i openly wept throughout and like idk i have many thoughts idk if i can make them all coherent but i will damn well TRY.

the casting first of all was,,,,,, chef’s kiss. perfection.

i already knew saoirse was going to be the perfect jo and i had every faith in florence and eilza (more on that soon) but it was emma watson that really surprised me as meg. i guess i just didn’t really think it was inspired casting when i first heard about it but she’s literally perfect for the role and oh my god congrats to meg for marrying such a STONE COLD HOT NERD john ‘it’s a lovely greenhouse’ brooks you have my heart. also the cursed ringlets scene that continues to give me hives to this day? her ‘MARMEEEEE’ omg queen of comedy?

did i cry like i was trying to stop a drought during saoirse’s ‘woman have minds’ monologue? you bet i did!!!!!! this is going to be the clip they play when she gets her oscar nom isn’t it?? rightly so.

eliza scalen how dare you make me cry like that i was a convulsing sobbing mess thank u so much for reassuring me that my tear ducts still work. also her lil scene where she fed joanna when all the other girls were fighting. a pure bean.

FLORENCE PUGH GREATEST ACTRESS OF OUR GENERATION.

FLORENCE PUGH ACADEMY AWARD WHEN????

FLORENCE PUGH DUMP ZACH BRAFF AND DATE ME CHALLENGE (no fr i will forever have the most chilling and vivid memory of hearing they were a thing bc i had legit JUST been served nachos and just had to sit there pretending to enjoy my nachos with that knowledge fresh in my brain and i blame him for me going on a nachos hiatus)

anyway we know i love jo bc hi look at my url but this film solidified my status as an amy girl through and through. i’ve forever been a defender of amy re: manuscriptgate but this whole movie just did the best job of showing everyone else that she’s the GOAT of the march sisters. and florence is my favourite amy ever. i can swither over all my favourite interpretations of the other march girls but not. florence!amy is for life not just for christmas. the scene where she talked about her feet outside laurie’s house physically changed me as a person and i would like a personal oscar nom for miss florence’s phlegmy cry alone.

and that brings me to... timothee chalamet nation, you... are valid. maybe i stan lil timmy tim now. maybe his delivery of ‘I’M FINE’ did something to a girl. he did the perfect job of showing how much of a fuckboy laurie is but like. he’s my FAVOURITE fuckboy and i am forever grateful for the time and attention given to laurie and amy’s relationship throughout the movie instead of having it bookended in there with a shove and zero care. also this movie did such a good job of portraying laurie’s relationships with all the marches instead of just jo and amy which i LOVED. like when he danced with meg and how he was always putting his arm around beth and asking aunt march to dance at meg’s wedding. god bless.

laura dern as marmee... idk i have nothing to say because i’ll just CRY. please adopt me. that scene at the kitchen table DID ME THE FUCK IN HOW AM I EXPECTED TO RECOVER FROM THAT MAKE IT MAKE SENSE LUV I WAS A MESS.

and i’ll be totally honest. i’ve honestly never been a bhaer fan? idk i know that’s a little like sacrilege these days but all i feel is this emotional detachment from him and that was only furthered in this movie because of all the changes like him being french instead of german. i’ve never been a fan of like large age differences as well even tho yes yes i know different eras and his maturity is there to counteract jo’s attitude but idk maybe i liked that he was younger even though i know a lot of people are pissed about that so it’s... not something i’ll go into detail about because i just. don’t care about him. i’m SORRY. altho i liked meg and amy’s involvement in the umbrella scene.

i was also!!!! a little confused at first by greta’s choice to use flashbacks instead of telling the story in a linear way? but i really liked it because we’re used to seeing everything happen in chronological order through all the other adaptations so i liked the fresh spin on things and CAN YOU SAY LIGHTING. the warm colours for the flashbacks and the cold colours for how everything is for the march’s present day. AGAIN CHEF’S KISS.

this is honestly getting too long omg you probably just wanted me to say good or bad or something i’m sorry i just have so many feelings because this story is so important to me and i feel so lucky to have such a good adaptation of it god bless ahhhh anyway FIVE STARS GO SEE LITTLE WOMEN TELL FLORENCE PUGH I’M SINGLE

#little women #sorry to anyone who has to read this #Anonymous

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eagesoldartblog · 5 years ago

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Not sure if you remember but you reblogged a post a while back (and tagged it #antagonist au if that helps) and talked in the tags abt Lewis trying and failing to be a villain and like. I'd love to hear more abt that

Ay! So fun fact! I accidentally mish-mashed a bunch of aus together so have fun~

EDIT: ALSO! Please be sure to check out the tags for the Trigger warnings!

Antagonistic Lewis

I can be a villain, Lewis reassures himself, taking quick, long paces as he circled the dark, Stoney room. You’ve done this plenty of times before! Sure that was on stage, everyone knew their part- but you can do this…!

If he still had a neck, a throat, he’d be gulping back his worry. But unfortunately that form of him hardly came up and right now, he wasn’t sure how to deal with the ordeal that would have been needed to bring up his face.

Unless. Lewis pauses for just a moment, eyes snapping over to a chair in the middle of the room. Well, not just a chair, it just so happened to be holding the very man who forced Lewis into a position such as this. Killed him, snatched a life of opportunity away. If it was to show him, then maybe. Maybe he could shove aside the swamped feeling of despair, inturn for the reward of watching his killers face becomes contorting with the knowledge that his victim was back. Then Arthur would know. He would be able to comprehend just how serious he was.

Bitterness almost drips from the ceiling and clings to his clothes and skull like glue, fueling his thoughts to spiral and grow restless and angry, how He wanted to be a father and have a family, Kingsmen. A family where you were in it.

His fist tightens, glare honing in so much he could see the hairs on the back of Arthurs neck stand on end. How his shoulders shake and tremble and rise with shallow breaths. Earlier Lewis had been worried he had restrained too tight. But now? Lewis wanted to grab the knotted ends of the rope, and pull and pull until he could watch Arthur’s organs come up his throat.

No. No… not yet. Lewis hisses to himself, shoving his rage and making it subside into something more manageable. Disdain. Sure, annoyance and hatred threatened to climb up his body and consume him entirely in a sheet of flame. Flash out and have the roar echo against the walls. But he forced himself to stay silent, calm. It was better to keep his bitterness hidden for now.

Not yet. Lewis reminds himself, echoing it through his head like a mantra and Lewis takes slow, careful steps. Relishing the click, click, click of his heels. Each one marking the smallest jolt in his captives’ shoulders, who slowly began to sir.

Wait until he was conscious. And show him the true meaning of fear.

Lewis’s smile stretches across his cheeks, listening to the smallest moan creeping out of Arthurs mouth. Able to watch that peaceful expression become one of confusion, disbelief, and slowly blink to awakeness. Lewis could almost commend himself on the dramatic timing, because just as Arthur lifted his head, he gasps, eyes snapping up to meet his expression. Fear and confusion taking hold of his body, covering his face like a rat stuck in a trap.

It fills Lewis with a glee so immense he could giggle with delight. Jitteriness taking hold of his entire body.

”Good evening, Arthur,” He hums, unable to make out the euphoric feeling of finally being able to speak these words for real now. No more reciting, no more imagining. Arthurs racing heartbeat was real and Lewis could feel its pound in every part of their small room, ”I’m so glad we could finally meet in person. No more running away, hiding away in that van of yours,” Oh yes, Arthur will pay handsomely, one for taking away his life and spitting on it with the pathetic excuse of a search, and two, for wasting all of his precious time.

His smile tightens, teeth grinding and straining against his jaw. The noise grinding into his ears and making his body nearly convulse. Had he cared just a bit more for himself and his bony form, he would have paid it more mind.

Instead.

SLAM. Arthur screams, jerking his body like he was trying to leap away, only to be bound by the tight ropes around his chest and the hand gripping his shoulder. The fist- had it been lacking a glove- would be noticeably growing red. Knuckles would have bulged out from his skin. And if Lewis was being serious, he wouldn’t doubt it if the bone ripped through. That’s just how anger was.

And, just like how he imagined, so many times before, it hurt.

When he grabbed it, Arthur had most likely gasped, tried to wriggle out. Now his shoulder was clamped to the chair and Lewis was inches away from his face. Unable to properly examine how Arthurs eyes snap from him to his shoulder, make out how he desperately tries to push and wriggle his arm out. So much that he slams his elbow against the chair to force it out. But to no avail.

Now to deliver his next lines, ”You know, I was thinking of how I should kill you ever since you trespassed onto my property.” he made sure to whisper, low and soft, to drive home just how little he cared, as if being quiet would show this despicable man how serious lewis is.

His grip tightens. ”I’ve been imagining every possible death I could bestow upon you. Should it be the way I died? Should it be in a bathtub?” As he speaks, his hand latches to Arthurs chin and jerks his head to the side. The room shifted, morphed, the walls opening up and staining with water-damaged wallpaper. A single tub, covered in rust standing at the furthest wall.

Drops of tears hit Lewis’s fingers, snatching his attention down before directing his gaze to Arthur’s face- his eyes were wide and his neck strains, breath coming out in shallow, panicky breaths. The severity of the situation finally hitting him.

To think, Suddenly, A voice in the back of Lewis’s head whispers, you had to save him from many of these types of situations before.

…Huh?

Lewis couldn’t help but blink, eyebrows screwing together as his mind suddenly freezes. Frozen- not like he’s been hit by a bullet, but instead watching a travesty occur and being unable to process any of it. And for a moment, Lewis can’t help but be shocked at the tone of it. Indifference? Boredom? Ple-

“P-please stop it-” Arthur chokes out. His eyes squinting shut as tears fill his eyes and begin to drip, rolling down his cheeks and- and suddenly Lewis’s thoughts stall. His plan, his- his script jumbled and losing itself in a wave of confusion and-

What is he doing? Why are they there- ”Why should I? I’m dead, don’t you remember?”

Arthur throws his shoulder again. But to no avail. His eyebrows twist up, and he looks up at Lewis once more and a pleading look is all that Lewis can make out. Except instead of filling Lewis with rage, it throws him further into the murky depths of confusion. Is-is he seeing this right now? Why-

He didn’t even notice, but his grip loosened. So much so that Lewis took a step back- floated away and he could barely make out his hand simply dangling there.

“I just- I just want to find my fr-friend.” Arthur chokes out, more tears rolling down his face as he dissolves into that awkward shuddery sob. Unable to breathe but with so much trying to leap out of your throat and there’s nothing else you can do to lock it up.

It was… pathetic. Horribly pathetic. But- …

Lewis shakes his head, reminding himself that there was no way this bastard is being honest! He lied for years- excellently crafted a lie beyond any logic that ultimately ended in shoving him off a cliff and to his doom-

And he continues to lie? Even- even fucking now?

But Arthur doesn’t stop crying, his shoulders shaking and the rest of his body beginning to tremble. The only thing preventing him from slumping over and really seal the deal of his supposive despair was the rope that Lewis was now seriously regretting.

…What was he thinking? Lewis demands of himself, tearing through his thoughts as he circles the side of Arthur and his fingers lace the ridges of the rope.

”H-hey, I’m sorry, Arthur.. I didn’t mean to- fuck- I shouldn’t have done that-” He stumbles over his words, fumbling with the intonation, as well as whether or not he had the right to even apologize for- for kidnapping him! For threatening him with death-! Lewis should be ashamed of his actions. The rope unravels, and disintegrates. Arthur brings up his arms slowly, eyeing his palms in shock before he’s up and standing and turning to Lewis. Distrust covering his face as he backs away like a frightened cat and almost pressing himself against the wall behind him.

Lewis, wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. Something about this scenario was off, it was wrong, and he couldn’t tell what exactly it was. Perhaps it was just the guilt that was already beginning to swell.

He- he’s seen this before, hasn’t he? Lewis could only recall a faint image- when they were much younger. Lewis was trying to practice for his role in a play, and Arthur had come over to help.

Lewis was a villain, and they were dangerous. He was dangerous. He only- took out his frustration through his roles.. And…

Lewis faintly could remember the scream. Arthur begging him to stop because he was hurt.

How did Arthur ever forgive him for breaking his arm-?

“Wh-here’s the exit?” Arthur asked, his voice wavers and Lewis is once again forced to see the sorrow etched into his exhausted face, and Lewis had to remind himself that things were different now. He-

Silencing his thoughts, shooing away the memories, Lewis sighs and nods to the door just a yard away from Arthurs feet, keeping his head down. ”Down the hall, then take a left and go up some stairs, the exit will be on your left.”

He flicks his wrist, and several deadbeats fizz into existence, ”here, they’ll guide you out-

Click

BANG!

There’s an explosion. One that rocks through the room, and tears into him. Somehow Lewis was still standing, but that could have been the shock, as his eyes flicker down and peer at his chest… and make out.. A hole.

A small one, barely big enough to chip anything major- being his anchor and ribs- but… a hole. That’s for sure.

Lewis blinks, slowly raising his gaze and…. Only able to make out…

Arthur. Has a gun. A gun that is pointed directly at him now. Smoking lightly and shaking even more. Matching the look of complete, utter terror on his face.

”Ar-”

Another bang, but this time Lewis was plunged into a world of black.

#Mystery skulls animated #Msa #Mystery skulls Fanfics #Lewis pepper #Arthur kingsmen #Eage writing #Anonymous #So fun fact I fuckin #pressed enter too early #bc i was worried i wouldnt tag it #whoops #Well anywAY HERE U Go #tw captivity #tw torture #tw drowning #threaten to drown #tw rope #tw gun violence #tw gore mention

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dramaqueen97 · 4 years ago

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To the boy who emotionally destroyed me

I want you to imagine this: a girl sitting on her bedroom floor, dry-heaving, her body convulsing with each failed attempt at silencing the sobs, banging her fists onto the ground as she tried to make sense of it all. Now, I want you to imagine my face because that girl was me, and I was never good enough for you. I was constantly coming second to dozens of other girls. You made me feel completely worthless. You emotionally ruined me.

I don’t hate you, though. Instead, I want to thank you.

Despite it taking me months, I finally realized that it wasn’t me not being good enough for you, but you not being good enough for me. These words have resonated with me for some time, and I am constantly reminding myself that I deserve better than the distorted perception of love that was handed to me on a tarnished silver platter. I deserve better than being ignored, I deserve better than being manipulated, and I deserve better than you.

I know I’m not the same girl that was on my bedroom floor that night, because I would never give someone complete power over me where I lost control; complete power over me where I felt I was worthless.

I know you’re a good person, but next time you ask yourself what it was you ever did to me I want you to think of the girl crying on her bedroom floor.

I was consumed by nothing but negativity, and for a while I thought you were my only source of light. I was drowning and every single day I woke up and hoped your hand would pull me up to the surface and save me. I was wrong. That night was the night I realized your hand was never there to save me, but instead there to push me deeper below the surface. The only hand I needed was my own.

You were my darkness and it took me too long to realize this.

I know you’re a good person, but next time you ask yourself what it was you ever did to me I want you to think of the girl crying on her bedroom floor. I want you to think of the girl that couldn’t sleep because the nightmares were worse than reality, which had become her own personal hell. I want you to think of the girl who couldn’t eat because she had no appetite from the anxiety cause from thinking she did something wrong. I want you to think of the girl who hated herself so much she had to force herself to get up in the morning, only to crawl back into bed hours later. I want you to think of the girl who had countless silent breakdowns, hoping her parents wouldn’t hear. I want you to think of all the things you never saw, all the things you never experienced, all the things that were kept hidden.

And now I want you to think of the person I have become, and I want you to know that I am thankful for you creating a monster. I’m no longer a monster, and I no longer have to force happiness. No more do I have to seek validation from others that I am worthy. I am thankful you were part of my life because you became the best & worst thing that happen to me.

I do hope you’re happy, and just know I don’t regret you. I would never wish for you to experience the same hell as me, I just wish you the same happiness that I can finally experience every day. Thank you for engulfing me in darkness, thank you fr helping me grow, and thank you for pushing me further below the surface. Too many great things have come from that darkness. Too many great things have come from you.

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littlemissheartfilia · 8 years ago

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What’s In A Prince Ch 10

Remember I said I’d do the thing?? And I did the thing!! But it’s going to be another long while until I have time to get the next chapter going. Please be patient and thank you in advance! Enjoy the next installment of my angst ridden Royalty AU!

Part(s): [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Summary: As Prince of Sabertooth Kingdom, Sting Eucliffe must choose a queen before his coronation. Easier said than done when Sting becomes overly attached to his personal knight Rogue Chenney. But when unrest slumbers in the kingdom, can the two secret lovers escape with their lives?

Pairing(s): Stingue

Setting: Old Kingdom type setting. Weisslogia is the King making Sting the Prince.

Rogue was swimming in darkness. He opened his eyes, or at least he thought he did. He searched for a way out but there was nothing. Nothing he could feel, nothing he could see. Down was a direction lost in the void. Up was a feeling he had never known. Finally something caught the corner of his eye. He turned and realized his eyelids were indeed cracked open slightly. The something he saw was growing larger, glowing brighter. Red soon filled his vision. His heart beat faster than his chest could handle and for some reason he felt his lungs burn like he was running for his life.

He cried out for help as the waking world and his dreams collided. Rogue sprung up on the bed, sweating and panting. He thought he had heard a voice crying out but as he looked around the room he realized it was deathly silent. Sting sat up in his chair, eagerly gazing at Rogue in concern, waiting for him to say something.

Rogue’s mouth felt dry and his entire body ached...but he was alive? He thought back and the only thing he could remember was being fully conscious of the fact he was giving up his life to save Sting’s. Hadn’t he? Sitting here on this bed, in pain, with Sting looking at him so worried must have been proof that they both made it out. He thought back but he couldn’t make any sense of it.

The room they now inhabited was dimly lit, even with the curtains closed he could tell the sun was setting behind them. From the over abundance of pillows and extra cushion of his bed he could tell the room was lavishly decorated. As if belonging to royalty. For a second he almost felt like he was back in Sabertooth’s Palace. Sting broke him out of his daydream when he moved to sit beside him on the bed and placed his hand on Rogue’s shoulder. His clouded eyes focused back on Sting’s face.

“Hey,” Sting said. “Are you ok? Do you need anything, water, food? I can-” Sting began rambling and was about to get up to grab something when Rogue stopped him with a hand that rested on his elbow.

He shook his head. “No. I’m fine,” said Rogue.

Sting didn’t seem relaxed but his shoulders sagged a little. He breathed out and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry.” A breathless whisper left Sting’s lips. Rogue looked at him in confusion but Sting didn’t return his stare. Instead his shoulders sunk and he turned his back. “When all of this started I just wanted to run. I wanted to escape and live another day but-God I was so stupid. I took you for granted and I-I didn’t see…” He paused just long enough to take one heaving breath and continue with tears in his eyes. “I didn’t know how important you were to me until I almost lost you.” He kept his gaze on nothing. His shoulder’s began to convulse and Rogue realized he was sobbing.

“Hey,” Rogue said, getting his attention with a forceful hand that turned Sting’s body toward Rogue. The Prince refused to look him in the eyes. “I’m still here right?”

Blue eyes shot up to gaze into red orbs. They shared a few moments of silence until Rogue brought up a bandaged arm, asking for Sting’s in return. He gladly obliged as a small smile grew on his lips. Rogue cupped Sting’s cheek and brought his head toward him until their foreheads were touching and both boys were laughing. Soon though Rogue winced in pain and clutched his stomach. He realized for the first time that it was heavily bandaged and, more than any other part on his body, it stung.

Sting jumped up and pushed a hand down on Rogue, forcing him to lay back down. “Take it easy. You just barely survived, we don’t need that wound reopening.”

As Sting propped the pillows up and smoothed the blanket he asked. “What happened?”

Suddenly the door opened to reveal a young boy, just barely a teenager wearing the finest servants clothes Rogue had ever seen. The boy had bright green hair and wide darkened eyes that grew even wider upon seeing Rogue. He was holding a tray of what looked like tea but it was soon dropped on the floor as he rushed toward the bed and threw himself over Rogue, his arms wrapping around the knight’s neck.

He winced in pain as the boy landed right on his stomach but his thoughts of pain receded when he realized just who this boy was. “Fr-Frosch?” He asked and the boy buried his head deeper into Rogue’s chest. Soon Rogue began to feel warm tears pooling on his chest. The boy didn’t move until Rogue grabbed his shoulders and forced him to stand up again. He was crying so much he could barely speak as he uselessly wiped his face.

“Fro m-missed you…” The boy spoke with a heavy accent that told Rogue he still hadn’t learned how to speak fluently. Rogue placed a hand on the back of the boy’s head and smiled at him. He let his thumb roam over the boys forehead and brush stray hairs behind his ear.

“I know...I’m sorry for leaving.”

Frosch shook his head furiously. “Rogue had to protect the Prince of a faraway kingdom. Fro knew.”

Before Rogue could speak again Sting interuptted. “Rogue?” he asked, looking at Frosch curiously. “You know this boy?”

Rogue nodded while Frosch worked on drying his tears. “I told you I was raised and trained with the assassins did I not?” Sting nodded. “This boy was too. Although he was a rather different case. Instead of being born into the assassins like I was, they found him. I must have been no older than ten when I was sent on a trainee mission to protect some very important foreign clients. When we arrived the house was already ambushed and the clients were dead. All except one,” Rogue said and placed a hand on Frosch’s shoulder to give it a squeeze. “His mother had hidden him inside a secret dumbwaiter in the basement, he was only three. It saved his life. The only reason we found him was because he wouldn’t stop crying. I convinced the mentors to let me train him when he became old enough. Only I left to serve your father before that could happen.”

“Rogue was always kind. He was the only family Fro knew.” Frosch interjected, his tears finally ceased and a sad look grew on his face.

Suddenly Rogue’s eyebrows creased and he looked sternly into Frosch’s eyes. “Frosch...How did you find me?”

Frosch shook his head. “Rogue not been found. The Majesty Lucy brought you here on boat.”

Rogue looked between Frosch and Sting then asked. “What’s going on?”

Sting looked around sheepishly before answering, “I-well...It’s a long story.”

The short of it, as Sting had explained was that Rogue had been unconscious for four days after the collapse of the bakery in Lillington. During that time the King of Fiore declared he would support Prince Sting’s rise to power and help him reclaim his throne, in turn starting a war with King Giemma. As far as Fioren scouts could gather, King Giemma was furious and amassing an army equal to the power of the Sabertooth Kingdom’s population. Giemma, in response to Prince Sting’s claim of birthright to the throne and begun calling the Prince a traitor. He told lies to the people the it was Sting who had started the fire that killed the King. His lies justified his use of the draft and fueled the anger for the Sabertooth people to fight against their own kin.

“That’s insane!” Rogue interjected. “He’ll destroy innocent civilians by drafting them like this.”

“That’s not all,” explained Princess Heartfillia who had come in to see Rogue on Frosch’s insistence. “Sabertooth scouts are becoming more aggressive. Organizing attacks on important council buildings and churches. They’ve even gotten as far as the castle gates where one of our squadrons intercepted them and took them in for questioning. So far they’ve given us nothing. But one of them found a way to commit suicide inside his cell. The remaining one hasn’t spoken a word.”

Rogue gritted his teeth but tried to keep his face blank, Sting on the other hand gave no reign to his anger. Letting his face grow red as his fingers balled into fists and he raised his voice; “Giemma’s not holding anything back anymore. He has to be stopped!”

Princess Heartfillia nodded. “And he will be. Don’t worry, Prince Eucliffe, Fiore will not let him win.”

There was a moment of silence in which Sting looked at Rogue and said, “Yukino’s gone.”

“What do you mean ‘gone’?”

Princess Heartfillia gave them both a sad look. “When we arrived on shore she left with barely a word to either of us.”

Sting shook his head. “She looked somber but very, very determined. She told me she was looking for something but didn’t really explain much more than that. I have no idea where she went. No one has seen her since.” Rogue cast his gaze to the ground in thought. Sting caught his eye. “You’re quiet?”

Rogue took a labored breath and looked to Frosch who had hidden himself in the corner of the room since the Princess entered. “The Black Dragon Assassin’s,” he said.

The Princess looked at him puzzled. “What?”

“Frosch, Lord Rufus, me and many others were trained by them. Their supposed to serve the royal bloodlines all across the world. Yet they’ve been strangely absent ever since I left to protect Prince Sting. I thought the distance of the continents kept them out of touch...but an event like this should have brought them out into the light. If Yukino somehow found out about them...That might be who she’s looking for.”

“The Black Dragon Assassins…” Sting repeated. “Wait, my dad used to read me bedtime stories about them.”

“They’re extremely secretive, but well known, mostly in exaggerated tall tales. I was always told that kept them feared by a lot of people. So my only question is...Where are they now?” As Rogue finished he cast his gaze to Frosch who looked startled like a deer in a hunt.

Frosch looked quickly between everyone as they all looked to him. He shook his head violently then bowed before saying, “Fro can’t know anything.”

“You were still there when I left for Sabertooth,” Rogue continued gently but firmly. “You must remember something.”

Frosch bowed his head and remained quiet. Princess Heartfillia beckoned him over with a friendly hand gesture. “Frosch came to me not too long ago.” He walked over at Princess Heartfillia’s gesture and she placed a delicate hand on his back. “He was esteemed as a servant in training on his homeland. I picked him out so I could raise him as the royal family’s head servant. But when he came here he barely spoke a lick of English.”

Rogue met Frosch’s sad gaze and he finally found his words. “After Rogue’s disappearing Frosch was sent home. Black Dragons did not want him there. He was sold to his King.”

“They sold you?” Rogue asked, his forehead creasing slightly. “Like a common slave?”

Princess Heartfillia began rubbing Frosch’s back, “Frosch never mentioned the assassins before.” She addressed Frosch and said, “I assume it was for good reason.”

Frosch met her eyes and nodded. “Frosch does not like painful memories.”

“All of this only brings up a lot more questions,” said Rogue.

“Do you think,” Princess Heartfillia began. “That if we can contact these assassins they’ll help Prince Sting gain his crown back?”

“I do indeed.”

“So...assassins? We’re going to take back my crown by enlisting the help of murderers?” Sting voiced.

Rogue shook his head and smirked slightly. “They were once meant to serve the crown. I’ll admit however if the Black Dragons are in hiding we won’t be able to find them easily.”

“Perhaps my father can help?” Princess Heartfillia suggested. Sting and Rogue looked to her with eager nods.

The trio arrived in a great council room shortly after. Against Sting and Princess Heartfillia’s protests Rogue would not stay in bed. He insisted on coming with them to see the King in his council room. His injuries were sore and it took him a while to get his feet moving properly but Rogue could not sit back, not now.

Already the Fioren Palace was much different from Sabertooth’s Palace. While his recovery room had felt lavish and full of comfort, similar to Sabertooth, the rest of the palace had a harsh feeling to it. It was stone cold, yet golden with extravagant chandeliers and banners lining every hall. Princess Heartfillia carried herself around the palace so naturally, he really began to see how perfectly she fit into her crown.

Her heels clicked on the tiled floors and she stood tall as she threw open the wide council room doors. King Jude was standing, hunched over a map on the table, a crease in his brow. Princess Heartfillia addressed him with a curtsy and a, “Hello, Father.” The King immediately straightened and smiled at his daughter. He was about to speak when he glanced behind her and saw Prince Sting accompanied by his Knight. Despite the pain he still felt Rogue didn’t allow himself to slouch. He stood up straight and held the emotion out of his expression.

“Lord Rogue?” The King questioned, “Why are you out of bed?”

Rogue had to suppress a sigh. Sting chuckled and answered for him, “He insisted on coming to see you. No matter what I never can get him to rest.”

The King nodded firmly. “Well, I do hope this means you are feeling quite better. What matters did you want to speak about?”

Rogue took a step forward, ignoring the pain that ran up his leg and through his stomach, he said, “The Black Dragon Assassins.”

The King seemed taken aback but didn’t let the look linger. He turned to the map on the table, then began looking around the room as he spoke. “An interesting topic given your situation.”

“Lord Rogue and Prince Sting wish to know if the Black Dragons still serve the royal bloodline,” said Princess Heartfillia.

“To take your crown back I presume?” said the King and Sting nodded. “It’s true they served the royal bloodlines long ago but…” The King trailed off.

“But?” Sting prompted King Jude to finish his thoughts. The King looked at Sting, sighed and walked around the table to take a seat at its head. He gestured to the chairs around the table and the trio took their seats focused on the king. King Jude slightly rested his nose on his folded hands before continuing.

“I’m unclear on just what made them vanish. Many rumors say the Black Dragons were destroyed, or disbanded. Others say they split themselves up. The truth can be hard to find but you don’t get to become King for nothing.”

“Meaning?” Sting asked.

“Meaning,” Jude continued, “I have connections. And those connections can tell you more truth than they’re likely to tell me.”

Rogue looked at the King in confusion. “You are a King, sire, what would they not tell you?”

King Jude almost smiled. “Connections bring you closer to what you need to know but they don’t always tell you what that is. The Black Dragons are very secretive, even to royalty. But you, Lord Rogue-”

“Me?” Rogue asked, surprised.

“Prince Sting did say to me you were trained by them. Is that not so?”

“That is true, Your Majesty.”

“In my experience a man on the inside can gather much more intel than an outsider can. If I contact The Black Dragons they will most likely be interested.”

“Will you do that?” Sting asked, a little too loudly and a little too demanding as he rose out of his seat a little. He seemed to notice his tone of voice and straightened himself. He cleared his throat and corrected himself, “I mean, if you would, Your Majesty.”

Rogue thought he heard a chuckle escape the old King’s lips but when he looked the King’s face was stoic. “At least you have the sense to correct yourself. Of course I will. I didn’t start a war for you over nothing, son,” said King Jude as an audible sigh of relief came from Sting. “I’ll send a messenger pigeon right away and, given his track record...the assassin will be here tonight.”

The night was calm, all other noises from the castle’s servants had ceased and Sting sat pondering the inescapable stillness. An owl hooted once out the cracked palace windows. The King had warned him against opening the windows of the palace once but the room was stifling and he couldn’t bare to sit simmering in his own heated thoughts. The noise it provided also kept his mind from wandering, the cool breeze wafting towards his cheeks, chilling them nicely. Only a soft breathing and the occasional snore like a bump in the airways let him know Rogue was still alive.

The knight kept so still in his sleep Sting often wondered if he had ever moved in his life. Rogue’s eyes had grown red and the more they talked with the King the more he could tell that wound was taking its toll on him. As it was the white bandage had been blotched with red. A warm sort of fuzz began to spread in his chest as he gazed upon Rogue’s sleeping form.

He needs to rest. Sting told himself when he had an itch to push that one strand of stray black hair away from Rogue’s forehead.

Sting turned back to the book in his hands. Though reading wasn’t usually his forte he had to have something to keep him occupied while Rogue rested and they waited for a member of the Black Dragons to offer assistance. So he read the last word of the page and turned it. After forty pages he was beginning to see why Rogue and Yukino had been so smitten about this text in particular. They had both been fans of the theatrics, and this book was so dramatic and lifelike he could practically see the events playing out before him.

A few minutes of silence and he turned another page. Sting scoffed. “Saw that coming.”

“Too busy looking for worms and you’ll miss the hawk.” A voice he had never heard before spoke. Sting shot his gaze up and caught sight of a dark figure standing over Rogue’s bed, right next to the chair Sting was seated in. He let out an embarrassingly high pitched yelp while involuntarily chucking the book at the cloaked figure who deftly dodged it. In conjunction with his scream he fell backwards in the chair, hitting his head on the brick floor when he went down.

Rogue was up near instantly, sword in hand pulled from under his pillow and pointed at the room around him. Before Rogue could even process who he was threatening his voice grew worried and he said, “Sting! What-” He caught the eye of the visitor in their room. Rogue fell silent and the figure stepped forward.

“I am Dobengal.” He said, his voice muffled through a mask and quiet like the babbling stream. “The King has summoned me to you.”

Rogue stood up, putting his sword back down on the bed. “You’re from the Black Dragon Assassins?”

Dobengal nodded. Sting was still rubbing the back of his head as he mumbled, “You know you could have knocked.” Sting stood up and although the assassin had a black mask on he could have sworn he saw the corners of Dobengal’s mouth twitch upwards.

“Yes,” Dobengal replied, “But where’s the fun in that?”

“If you’re a member of the assassins-” Sting asked, getting up from the floor and taking a step toward Dobengal “-then you must know why they went into hiding.”

“You are not under clearance to know that information.” His voice turned sour as he glanced over at Sting.

“Not under clearance! Do you know who you’re talking to?” Rogue shouted gesturing wildly to Sting as he placed himself between the prince and the assassin. Sting walked up to place a hand on Rogue’s elbow, lowering it and forcing him to step down.

“It’s ok, Rogue. We don’t need to know everything. We just need to know if the Black Dragon Assassins are going to help us or not.” Sting then turned to Dobengal. “Well, will you?”

Instead of answering Dobengal turned to the window, still ajar like Sting had left it but widened from Dobengal slipping through it. “I am under orders not to converse with you,” he said, looking at Sting. “Though I will say, when your life is in danger from a tyrannical King, leaving bedroom windows open is not a bright idea.” Dobengal chuckled as he turned to the night air and seated himself like a frog on the sill. Sting was almost about to protest when Dobengal turned back to them both and continued speaking. “Now follow me, and don’t fall behind. We’ve been expecting you for a long time, Master Rogue.”

The boys share a look of pure shock. Rogue is speechless but Sting calls after Dobengal’s shadowy form as it falls from the two story window. “Master? Back up, Master?! Since when?” he asked Rogue who just shrugged and walked to the window Dobengal had disappeared from.

#thanks for reading!#:D #stingue #stingue fanfic #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #sting eucliffe #Rogue Cheney #sting and rogue #StingxRogue #my fanfic

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