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fandomlovingfreak · 3 years ago

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Glacial Passion (9/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: E for Everyone

Trigger Warning: Arranged Marriage, angst, swearing occasionally

Word Count: 2059

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: Okay so I feel rushed 24/7 with this fanfic because of my schedule. I hope you all like it! I rewrote this like 5 times ugh! aha

Enjoy

Visitors at nine o'clock at night was far from uncommon for Sirius Black. But, he usually expected said visitors to arrive with him, hopefully after a wonderful night out drinking and dancing. Visitors that arrived at nine o'clock at night and by themselves were quite an uncommon occurrence at Number Five Godric Lane.

Sirius opens the door at the second knock. The figures of his younger brother and a young woman standing on his front porch both looking gloomy.

"Regulus?" The girl looks younger than his brother, very attractive-- well, she would be, he assumes, if she weren't wearing a scowl that rivaled Regulus's cloudy expression. Sirius leans against his door frame, crossing his arms against his chest nonchalantly, "And you must be (y/n)."

(y/n) opens her mouth to respond, but Regulus cuts her off before she can confirm or deny his statement, "Can we stay here?" The interruption seems to piss her off further, her anger coming off her in waves as she stares daggers at Regulus.

Sirius looks between the young couple for a beat, "I-- sure? But why are you here? What happened?"

"Walburga." Regulus steps forwards to enter, prompting Sirius to move out of the way of his brother and sister-in-law. (y/n) gives him an apologetic look but doesn't say anything as she follows her husband into the small space of Sirius's living room.

He wonders what Regulus has done to piss his wife off so thoroughly as he watches them take a seat on his couch, Regulus somewhere near the middle cushion and (y/n) as far to the right as she possibly can be without sitting on the armrest.

Sirius sits adjacent to them in the comfy reclining chair. After a moment of silence, he sighs, "So, are you going to tell me what's happened?"

"We'll only be here for a couple of days at the least. There was no way we could spend another night-- there."

"I don't care how long you stay. Stay as long as you need to." Sirius looks at (y/n), who still has not said a word to him or Regulus. She's not even looking at either of them, her lips drawn tight and her fingers neatly folded together on her lap. "Were you disowned?"

Regulus's eyes meet his, "No. Can we talk in the kitchen? Just for a moment."

"Sure," Sirius stands up, "I've been rude, though. (y/n) would you like anything to drink?"

The girl's eyes meet his, "Water would be fine, thank you."

"I'll be right back with your water." He leads Regulus into the small kitchen.

"Why are you speaking to me with your wife not present? And what happened anyway?" Sirius opens the cabinet, reaching for a glass as he speaks.

"I wasn't disowned specifically because of (y/n). I know it's the truth. Walburga thinks she's possibly pregnant, and besides, I am sure my father-in-law would be furious to find out our parents ruined his daughter's future over me."

"Is she?" Sirius asks as the glass overflows as he fills it.

"Is she what?"

Sirius rolls his eyes, "Is your wife pregnant?" Honestly, he can understand why (y/n) may be annoyed with Regulus. His little brother was always so distracted by his own thoughts he could hardly converse at a normal rate. Skipping over questions and statements, eager to give his take or changing the subject. He could sometimes be exhausting to talk to, especially if you weren't used to Regulus and his ways.

Regulus scoffs as if Sirius was an idiot to suggest such a thing, "I've never failed to cast a contraceptive charm before. It's just an inkling the woman has, hoping that even as I continue to put up a fight against her ridiculous opinions on how my-- my relationship should look, or how it should operate. Of course, when she suggested that... conceiving an heir was a family matter, I told her it wasn't any of her business. Which she didn't like, at all."

"So you're hanging on as the heir because she's convinced (y/n) is carrying your heir?" Regulus makes a face, the only convincing Sirius needed that he wasn't telling him the complete truth.

"I assume that's what she thinks. You know Walburga. She's convinced sex is strictly reproductive."

Sirius chuckles, "talk about your sex life much with dear old mum, eh Reggie?"

Regulus's frown deepens. Oh, how his younger sibling hated teasing, "of course not. She's become a complete nutter about my private matters. I don't even know how she figured out I was using the charm."

"Well, she is a nutter. Maybe she has Kreacher following you around." It's meant as a joke, but Regulus seems to question if there's some truth in the words. "Oh, c'mon Regulus. Wouldn't you notice the little creep if he had been what-- hiding underneath the bed?" Sirius stifles a laugh. Imagining the little gremlin sneaking into Regulus's bedroom to spy on him from under the bed. The image of Kreacher under the bed, the springs of the bed, knocking against his lumpy head.

"It's not funny. That's entirely possible--" Regulus takes the glass from Sirius's hand, downing it in one go.

"Hey! That was for (y/n)!"

In a very not-raised-by-Walburga-Black manner, Regulus wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, nearly slamming the glass on the countertop, "You can refill it."

Sirius mutters something about Regulus being a 'little git' as he refills the glass and pushing past Regulus to bring the glass to (y/n).

"Here you go." The younger woman takes the glass from him, smiling. The smile seems false in his opinion, her eyes immensely sad.

Sirius practically scurries back to his chair, "right-- so all I have to offer is a couch, which I suppose we can transfigure into a bed? Hopefully, that's okay?" His eyes meet (y/n)'s ignoring a sulking Regulus who sits down next to his wife.

"Of course. Thank you." (y/n) stands, looking at Regulus, "Do you mind?" He scowls but gets up off the couch, shuffling towards Sirius. Both brothers watch as (y/n) pulls her wand from her sleeve.

With an elegant flick of her wand, the couch transforms into a comfortable-looking bed large enough to fit two adults.

Looking pleased with her work, (y/n) sits back on the edge of the bed. Almost reluctantly, Regulus sits on the side of the bed (y/n) isn't occupying.

Again, Sirius has the desire to laugh. Clearly, there has been some sort of spat between the couple. Their mother's rudeness can't be the only thing that's got the couple this worked up.

The uncomfortable silence that overcomes the three of them is unbearable. In an attempt to put an end to the awkwardness, Sirius, with a grin, speaks, "I'm still baffled that I didn't get a wedding invitation."

Neither (y/n) nor Regulus look amused by his words.

"This is not the time, Sirius." If looks could kill, Regulus would have surely ended his life.

***

Undoubtedly, Regulus and Sirius shared DNA. I ponder the similarities between my husband and his older brother as I get ready for bed. They both have the same piercing grey eyes and deep brown hair. But their differences could be plainly seen as well. Regulus is a tad bit taller and far skinnier than Sirius. And Sirius's hair is much longer.

Even as their faces share similarities, Regulus always seems to wear a frown while Sirius clearly had an air of ease. Funnily enough, the frown that Regulus wears doesn't match the woman you'd think he would resemble, as Sirius was the one who favored his mother's sharp features. Regulus had clearly inherited Orion's bone structure.

Undoubtedly though, both men were attractive in their own way.

Spitting toothpaste into the basin, I make a face when the thought pops in my head that I find Regulus more handsome than his brother.

I suppose I am allowed to be biased, or at least should be biased, as I'm married to Regulus, but-- I feel silly thinking about this.

Walking back into the makeshift bedroom, I pass Regulus, who doesn't even meet my eye. We've barely spoken since we arrived in Godric's Hollow, only passing looks of anger between us. Part of me longs to reach out and grab his arm, tell him I overreacted, that I'm sorry... but am I really sorry? Or was I just longing for him to whisper sweet things as he held me in bed how he has for the past weeks? I certainly could go one night, or maybe even a few, without his touch.

Unfortunately, I very much wanted him to play the loving husband again. I wanted to listen to his stories and comfort him when painful memories were brought up. I wanted to kiss him in all the ways we could think. Soft and sensual, deep and unforgiving... I wanted the goodnight kisses and the sleepy morning ones.

I obviously-- I don't love him, not yet. Maybe never if this rollercoaster of hot and cold continues on with us. But I did find myself craving affection and attention from Regulus in a way that would suggest feelings had been developing.

And Gods, did I hope that he felt at least an inkling of these developing feelings of mine. Regulus could be soft and sweet in moments, but part of me wondered if he only felt something for me when I was beneath him. It-- was a thought that had begun to plague my mind as our honeymoon had taken a turn for the better.

I had no proof that he didn't have budding feelings for me; I ultimately felt insecure because of that fight.

The way he spoke to me reminded me of every time I was scolded by my parents or grandmother. Like I was a dumb child who didn't have a say in a decision like practically running away from home-- his home.

Climbing into bed, I pull the blanket up towards my chin. The curtains aren't completely drawn, leaving an opening for a sliver of moon to be seen.

I feel my eyes grow tired as I focus on the moon's illumination.

***

Regulus makes his way back into the living room, meaning to discuss their spat. Guilt had sat in the back of his mind since their argument, but he needed her to realize that the anger he showed hadn't been aimed at her. It was stupid to assume that she would just know and understand the history between himself and his parents, and why wouldn't she assume he was attacking her when he raised his voice?

Part of Regulus had hoped she would just understand, and he wouldn't have to explain the rocky relationship between his family to her. (y/n) could be incredibly understanding, but she wasn't a mind reader. He had been unfair.

The carefully crafted apology he had rehearsed in the bathroom as he brushed his teeth sat at the tip of his tongue, dying instantly when he noticed her already under the covers of their makeshift bed.

The moon shines through Sirius's shitty, cheap curtains, casting a beautiful glow on her.

His voice comes out quiet as he calls her name into the dark. Her body doesn't stir, and he walks closer to the bed. The gentle rise and fall of her sleeping form has him convinced she really has fallen asleep without him.

Almost by instinct, he gets into bed, moving closer to wrap her up in his arms, but he hesitates, wondering if she'd even want to be held by him after their fight.

He feels the pang of sadness at the thought that she may not want his touch any longer.

Regulus reasons with himself that if she really didn't want him near her, she would push him away during the night. Maybe-- maybe she would wake up with his body pressed up close against hers, and it could fix something, or at least maybe she'd wake up less angry at him.

Carefully he moves so she's tucked against his body, his arm wrapping around her waist the way he knows she likes best. With a content sigh, she settles back against his body.

Regulus holds still, making sure she hasn't woken up, eventually relaxing and burying his face in her hair.

At least as she sleeps, she still desires him.

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cheekygreenty · 3 years ago

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Little Witch - Part 10

The Darkling x Reader

*I’ve changed this part like 5 times so if there’s any inconsistencies I do apologize 😝

In a perfect world, you and Aleksander would have spent the day in his luxurious bed surrounded by his soft silk sheets. You felt an overwhelming feeling to open up to him, to tell him everything that happened to you since you saw him last, nearly a century ago, but life has a way to ruin perfect opportunities.

Wars didn't take breaks or vacations, they got more deadly as time went on and each side got more nervous as more people gave their lives to the cause. A solution was necessary and from your understanding, Aleksander still had the same plan as he did all those years ago he just had a different way to go about them. No doubt Alina was at the center of them.

You had business to attend to too. The first on the list was a meeting with the council. The King and his advisors were to be there to 'greet' you with open arms, but you were sure you'd have to put on a quick performance of your abilities to satisfy their curious minds.

Maybe that's why he gave me the shadows, to ensure my position. You quickly brushed off the thought. It didn't really matter to you why he did what he did. You had your shadows back. He claimed protection, but you knew there was a different reason behind it as well. It seemed too quick and too easy in your opinion but who were you to judge what kind of trust he truly had in you. You felt comfort that you always had piece of him wherever you went.

On a lighter note, you could finally wear a black kefta. The thought itself had you quickly leaping out of his bed and skipping to your chambers in a mere robe through the secret passages of the Palace. You didn't want anybody to see you leaving his quarters, not in the state you were in. You needed to grab a Healer and get rid of those very visible marks on your neck that Aleksander took his time creating. He intended to mark you as his own but jokes on him, you never wanted to belong to anybody but yourself.

Time passed and servents scurried in and out of your chambers, carrying information from here there and everywhere. You were already overwhelmed with tasks and your position wasn't even announced to the Palace yet. You were still the mysterious Grisha that served with the Darkling, not for.

Your vanity was covered in papers and reports in handwriting you had trouble reading and your bed had maps strung across it. Aleksander truly meant it when he said he would get you started right away and share his responsibilities as soon as he got the chance.

When the time finally came, you were escorted to the Grand Palace with Aleksander walking right next to you. The conversation was devoted to work and nothing else, Fjerdan intel, rumors of West Ravka and Zlatan, and upcoming skiff journeys but you didn't mind. You were damn good at your job, having started out in the First Army and then joining the Second Army had given you experience not even the General had, it's what made you the first pick when dealing with plans involving otkazat'sya soldiers, they respected you. I wonder if they will now.

You had spent 3 years in the First Army once upon a time. You came from a wealthy merchant family, a family full of drunks and abusers and cowards. You gave up the feeling of a full stomach and duck-feathered beds for the rations of the army once your mother admitted to you being a bastard and not worthy of the family name. What a shame. Look at me now.

You never knew what you could do, but a slip-up with a Tidemaker had you served to the Darkling on a silver platter. He was meaner then, more unforgiving. Your years spent with him after that had changed him, made him better in your eyes. You fell for him, hard, even though there was so much death and destruction in his wake. When you love somebody, it’s easy to see past all of the nasty stuff and focus on whatever is left of the good and Aleksander still had an abundance of if.

You could still remember his cold stare as he asked you what the hell you were. After pleading with him that you didn't know and his Heartrenderer confirming it, he whisked you away to the Little Palace where soon enough you had become his equal, if not his superior.

'I actually wanted to ask you something about one of the Grisha in the Palace. I seen her with Alina, red-hair, big blue eyes... she wore a white kefta?' You said as you wlaked down a mirrored hallway in the Royal building.

'Oh, that's Genya Saffin. She works for the King and Queen.' He said with an underlying tone of irritation.

'What does she do? She wears a white kefta so I'm just curious'

'She's a tailor. Member of the Corporalki. She should be wearing red, I know. But trust me the time will come' He ushered us both into a guarded room of glitering gold and pearly white walls. So tacky. I could make out the king slumped in an overdone throne-like chair.

'Moi tsar' you and Aleksander bowed much to your distastes. You hoped nobody had seen the brief look of disgust wash over your face as the Lanstov King rose and gave his advisors a raised eyebrow, signalling to you. A man wearing a navy uniform looked at you like a piece of meat ready to be devoured. I'm gonna throw up.

'Deputy General Y/L/N is it?' He took your hand in his own sweaty one gave it a wet kiss. 'You Grisha are always easy on the eyes aren't you?'

You took a step back and cleared your throat. 'Yes, Moi Tsar, it is an honour to make your acquantance' You tried so hard to keep your fists at your sides.

'And what can you bring to the war table, apart from the newest fashion' He let out an obnoxious laugh and his advisors followed. They all looked smug and spoiled. None of them had any idea what the real world looked like and yet had the audacity to sit this council. I'll show them what it means to be powerful.

Aleksander stepped away to the side and gave you a nod. You slowly unravlled your fist and plunged the room into darkness while simultanseoly blowing a strong wind throughout the space, letting papers fly in all directions and the fire go out. You relit it, and every candle in the room. The man in the navy unifrom got the runt of your powers, as you slowly medled with his heart until he breathed a worried laugh 'Stop it Girl'.

But you didn't stop, you carefully stared at the chair the man sat in and pushed it just enough for him to let out a yell. You accidently let out a chuckle that was meant to be in your head. You felt Aleksander move toward you 'All right, that should be enough' He said visibly amused too. You let it all drop.

'It's Deputy General to you' You looked at his fearful face that tried to cover by fixing his jacket and whiping away invisible dust off of his shoulder.

'I must say I am impressed. With the Sun-Summoner and... you, we will have West Ravka and the surroundings begging for our alliances.' He sat down on his chair once again and pointed to an empty one across from him and to the right of Aleksander, who unbeknownst to you had already seated himself.

'Please, Deputy General, do take a seat, we have business to tend to'

****

A painful 2 hours later you and Aleksander walked out of the Grand Palace. You had a headache and your hands hurt from clentching them so hard.

'I'm assuming you sitting the King's meetings for me is off the table now?' Aleksander mused and all you could do was give him a side-eye.

'I think I want to kill him'

'In due time'

You weren't even surprised. If he didn't do it himself you definitely would have taken one for the team. That man is unbearable; like a child in a grown man's body.

As you wallked into your home, Aleksander gently took hold of your wrist and pulled you in the direction of his quarters.

'Come'

Your head was pounding too much to say no so you obliged. The hallways were bare of people, not a Grisha in sight.

You reached his war room doors and walked in after him. He pulled out a map and laid it down.

'I've sent out a First-Army search for the Stag.'

You paused. The headache suddenly gone. Morozova’s Stag. He had tried once before and failed. The weeks following his failure sent him into a frenzy, he questioned Morazovas journals and almost burned them all, but you had gotten to him last-minute. You never doubted the stag to be real. You just never believed he would use it. He's powerful on his own unless- it's for Alina.

You audibly sighed and leaned your back against the table. Alina.

'Does she want it?'

'Does that matter?'

‘Of course it matters!’ You scorned but he stayed silent.

You turned to look at him and whispered 'What are you planning this time?' He had been dropping hints here and there, but so far there was no plan you knew of. 'I can't help you if I don't know the plan'

'No. You're better of not knowing anything. I can't lose you again' you turned you head and looked at his side profile.

'But you need me. I'm powerful, I can lead an army'

'If anything happens you can take over for me then, Deputy.' He cocked a sad smile and left a lingering kiss on your forhead before he left you standing in the war room alone and confused.

Part 11

Taglist

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal

#shadow and bone #grisha #imagine #the darkling #the darkling x reader #alexander #alexander morozova #alina starkov #ben barnes #fanfic #black general #general kirigan x reader #shadow summoner #keftas

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satorinnie · 3 years ago

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love and war

pairing; gojo satoru x f!reader

genre; angst

wc; 3,6k

warnings; jjk manga spoilers

notes; i think its obvious the ending is a bit rushed but i still tried my best :/ got the motivation to write the ending but then lost it again...but i wanted to post it today so here it goes. would love to hear feedback on it!

it wasn’t meant to play out like this. no, he wasn’t meant to find out about it, not like this at least.

that was the last thing you ever wanted.

everything was going so fine, maybe too fine, but still, nonetheless, things were perfect between the two of you just this morning. how did it come to this?

he was looking at you, blindfold off, crescent blue eyes reflecting each emotion he held so so openly. the only times you saw him this vulnerable was when the two of you had talked about his past, his regrets, and what if’s. his eyes were full of adoration at that time, looking at you like you were a pure blessing from the heavens, an angel sent to save him from his drowning thoughts, to let him be himself.

but now, now they were looking at you with so much hurt, anger, regret, and oh so heartbroken.

you had seen, witnessed, first-hand what the receiving end of gojo’s furious gaze ended with. it wasn’t pleasant, that’s for sure, and you had sworn to yourself you would never be on the receiving end of it.

oh, how the tables have turned.

it was understandable why he was so mad; god knows you would be too. because you, who had delicately pieced back his broken heart and trust after the events of getou, had now broken it, by your very own hands at that.

how did it all come to this? you had no idea. you knew starting a relationship with him was wrong and off-limits from the very beginning, but the temptation had surpassed your rationality just like eve when she bit the apple. you never thought you’d fall this deep down the hole, so deep that you forgot–no, ignored your true mission.

to monitor gojo satoru and sukuna’s vessel and kill them when you got the order.

it was last year when the head sorcerers in england had given you this mission. if gojo was unbeatable and unrivaled in japan, you were the same in england. perhaps your curse technique wasn’t as strong as his, but it was versatile and a very reliable technique.

after itardori yuuji became the only sukuna’s vessel, japan wasn’t the only country sour about the thought of it; in fact, it had caused a panic in europe as well. and as england was the country that ruled the jujutsu world in europe, you were assigned with monitoring the vessel and the owner of the six eyes. they wanted their eyes and hands on the boy with the infinity.

but you befriending everyone there, joking with the curse himself, and becoming lovers with the one and only gojo satoru was definitely not how you planned for things to go. it spelled trouble from the beginning, getting close to the shaman who had an ego and power rivaling the gods. but, unfortunately, you were now too deep to just leave without explaining everything to him, and even hoping for a chance that he’d forgive the lies you fed him throughout your times together was a little farfetched.

how could you make him believe that everything you said was genuine, and out of true love? the answer was you couldn’t because the betrayal in his eyes was enough for you to gulp down those hopes, taking a deep breath to prepare for the argument that was about to come. “look–satoru, please let me explain and don’t jump to conclusions.” you lifted your hands in front of you as an act to calm him down, walking closer to him with a futile attempt to hold his hands.

“explain what?” a laugh escaped his throat, one mixed with desperation and madness, “that everything between us was a lie? a mission for you? how do you plan on slithering your way out of this now, huh?” his voice rising with each word he was spitting out of his mouth.

you were desperately trying to keep up the expression that you had everything together, when in fact, you didn’t at all. your hands were starting to shake because you were scared of losing the man in front of you whom you were utterly in love with. the boy with the infinity held your heart in his palms, and he had no idea about it. “nothing was a lie, alright! i know how that document looked, and i can’t lie and tell you that isn’t true, but my love for you is–”

“keep those fucking lies to yourself y/n–you know, everyone knows already. megumi, yuuji, maki, even shoko–”

“stop cutting me, gojo! i know it might be unforgivable, but you have to believe me when i say i forgot about the mission. i love you, okay? i am undeniably and utterly in love with you, and that’s why i’ve been ignoring every call, every message they’ve been sending me about the task because i can’t do it!” you were screaming now, hands in the air, trying to voice out every single emotion you were feeling in that moment.

“well, it’s too bad that i don’t love you anymore! you know, i’ve known about this for a few weeks now and was hoping you’d open up to me about it, but–”

you froze at his last sentence.

“–you what? so you’re telling me that everything that happened in between us during those weeks was an act? all fake? you were just waiting for me to open up so you could what, break my heart in a more grand way?” now you had to give it to him, not only was he secretly smart, he was also a great actor who had you fooled for weeks now. the room was silent after your words, both your eyes staring deep into each other; you, waiting for his answer.

and you watched as he opened and closed his mouth, not sure how to answer your question. but you knew what that meant; with his hesitance, you had found your answer. breaking your eye contact, you looked down at the floors of the home you used to share; you could hear your heart shattering into millions of pieces with just the sound of his breathing.

“alright,” you whispered into the air. running your hand over your face, you leaned back against the kitchen counter. “so how will this go? are you going to let me go or are we gonna have a full-on fight right now? or is everyone already waiting outside the door to capture me?” you were doing your best to avoid eye contact, it was already too heard keeping your tears from falling, and you knew one more look at the eyes you loved so much would break you.

there was silence for a few minutes, but in your eyes, a few minutes was an eternity long. the fact that he was debating the question you left was heartbreaking already. but you weren’t afraid to fight; you had come to japan prepared for the worst-case scenario, and getting to know satoru up close, you believed you had a fair chance at winning.

“–im giving you twenty-four hours to leave this country. if you don’t–you know what’s to happen.” this had you lifting your head in the speed of lightning, eyes wide mouth agape, you could only watch as gojo satoru left your shared house without sparing you a single glance.

he was oblivious to how he carried your heart out the door when he left you stranded in the middle of the kitchen.

it was an hour after your discussion, and you were still in the same spot he left you. still standing, still too paralyzed to move. the reality of things being over was just starting to weigh on you, but you knew you had to start packing because not only gojo; but england was going to be after you too.

you failed the mission. and you didn’t plan on returning back.

war is a slippery slope. what would you do? becomes what will you do? becomes what have you done?

looking around the now-empty home, you built with gojo; tears started falling from your hallow eyes. so many memories resurfaced in one moment; it was overwhelming. the day your first saw him when he was trying to crack a joke at nanami to get him to smile. or the time he first asked you out admitting he had found you a force to be reckoned with and how you had managed to bewitch him. the day you accepted, the day he made you see stars behind your eyes from pure bliss. the day he proposed living together. the day you danced around the living room with his obnoxious music playing at the back, head laid against his chest humming to the melodies. how you felt like a family when you saw him and the students act so close–

how long has it been? how long have you been pushing your actual task behind the lies and excuses you fed yourself. was that person you? the ever so stone-hearted y/n breaking her facade for the boy with infinity.

my god, my god, whose performance am i watching? how many people am i? who am i? what is this space between myself and myself?

it was all getting too much. when had you fallen down the hole to never leave again? should you be grateful, or should you curse the fact that despite all misfortune, you can still feel love and unearthly love but still for earthly objects?

finally getting a grip on yourself, your feet moved down the hall to your shared bedroom, and without wasting a glance at his side, you quickly started to pack your stuff to leave japan.

gojo wasn’t doing well himself. he thought he had finally found true happiness after all the loss he had to go through, and it all turned out to be nothing but an act built on lies. after he left your shared home, he had wandered around in the streets with no destination in mind and the cold chilly air blowing past him. his blindfold was still off, the moon making his crystal blue eyes shine even more, still with unshed tears at the brink of it—a dam about to break.

he knew he lied to you when he told you he didn’t love you anymore and only hoped the years of the facade he had to keep up was enough to fool you into believing his words when in fact, it was the very opposite. he loved you so much–so much that it broke him when he read the document that was mailed to you weeks ago. you and him were an inseparable duo–the strongest and his tamer. the boy with the infinity and the girl who held him down with gravity.

upon wandering the streets for god knows how many hours, he found himself in front of a riverbank. the light of the moon was radiating, creating a painting of a million stories for the broken boy. but while being so engrossed with the view in front of him, he had failed to feel someone creeping up behind him; with his infinity down, nanami was able to lend a hand on his shoulder. “i’m assuming you talked with her.” he broke the silence.

his silenced gaze worried his friend; they promised to keep it between themselves. while nanami believed letting the kids know would be the better choice, gojo was adamant about keeping your good image in front of them. he knew how much they adored you, and he would hate to be the one to break it to them. “i did.”

“and what choice did you go with?”

“i gave her a full day to leave, and if otherwise–” he gulped down the lump forming in his throat, “–if otherwise, i told her i would fight her.” tears now slowly starting to trail down his porcelain skin, an odd view to see for his foes.

“you did the right thing.” nanami tried his best to console him in a way. this was a new image for him; he never saw gojo break down like this; the last time he saw his best friend (he would never admit that to his face, though) like this was when he had to kill getou, even then he had managed to keep up the aloof facade. but he knew his feeling for you ran much, much deeper than that. he has witnessed what your companionship had done to him. it was what pieced him back, and now what broke him.

it’s been years since you left, but you were back now. back in japan after two years of staying away, traveling to many different countries, on the runaway from the higher-ups in england. you would’ve preferred your return to be on good news and such, but unfortunately, it was the opposite. your friends back in england had informed you about how they planned on ending gojo’s life once in for all today with a team of experienced sorcerers, and although you wanted to keep away from trouble as much you could, you couldn’t let the man you love die.

with your hood covering your face, you walked down the streets of shibuya, the once war zone that led to many disastrous events in the past years under your feet. you heard about everything; the culling game and the capture of gojo satoru, thank god those were all in the past now, and everyone was well–except nanami, and the new had broken you. just like gojo and the students, he also had a special place in your heart, his calm attitude always grounding you. you don’t think his last thoughts of you were good–considering what gojo had told you the night you left, but still, his death was unexpected news to you.

you didn’t know how you were going to approach the topic; there was a big chance they’d attack you the second you entered their line of vision, not allowing you to voice out the news–but it was worth the try nonetheless. taking your hood down, you entered a cafe; the need for caffeine after the long flight back here was strong, the anxiousness and stress not allowing you to sleep. what you didn’t expect was seeing the three first years–now third years–you loved so much sitting in the cafe chatting idly, not noticing you. you wanted to keep it that way, but on your way out, a feminine voice called out your name. “y/n sensei? is that you?”

your steps halted, freezing in your stop. the confrontation was inevitable now, causing a stir in a crowded place was the last thing you wanted so you turned around to see nobara staring at you with wide eyes, megumi and itadori behind shocked just as her. what you didn’t expect was her running straight at your engulfing you with wide arms; a big grin plastered on her face. “where were you! you disappeared out of nowhere, and gojo sensei wouldn’t tell us anything! we were really worried; you left me alone with these two idiots–you know you’re the only one who understands my pain–”

“–i’m sorry, i had to go on an abroad mission, and it took too long. it’s good to be back.” you hugged her back tightly, still trying to process the new information she threw at you. gojo had lied, and that made you question everything you believed in. had he also lied about his love for you back then? but that was for later–for now, you wanted to cherish this news and spend time with your favorite students, learn about their well-being and their stories.

“come on, let’s sit shall we? we got lots to catch up on.”

it was now midnight, and you were waiting somewhere in the middle of the forest for your dreaded meeting with gojo. you managed to convince the kids into telling gojo to meet you here without actually letting him know it was you. they were excited, to say the least, talking about how you and he were the epitomai of soulmates, two pieces meant to find each other, filling up the gaping hole you both had. you were very nervous, fidgeting in your spot, hiding behind the tree waiting for him to arrive, and when you heard footsteps nearing you–you knew this was it, heart pounding like crazy.

walking out of your hiding spot, you slowly made your way over to him, hands stiff at your sides anticipating his reaction. “gojo.” he looked at you, blindfold on this time. still, you could see his displeasure from how his body stiffened at your voice, looking at you with a straight face. “what’re you doing here? i thought i told you to leave.” you sighed, walking closer to him, “i know, and i am going to leave again, but before that, i need to tell you something–” you were cut off by the powerful shake of the ground, throwing you off balance resulting in you falling to the ground.

behind you were your old friends from england, standing tall and mighty together–a force to be reckoned with; you were once one of them, but alas, that was the past. “thanks you leading us straight to him y/n.” elizabeth smirked looking at your fallen state, “you made things a whole lot easier for us.” she continued. looking back at gojo, you were surprised to see his hands locked in some type of chain. how did they manage to get past his infinity–unless he didn’t have it on in the first place. did let his guard down once he saw you? why would he do that?

“no, no, no– leave him alone, elizabeth! i swear to god i’ll rain hell upon all of you!” you stood up desperately trying to leave the makeshift cage your friend had put you in when a sudden idea came to you. it was risky, but it would save him, and that–that was all you needed, your purpose of coming here in the first place.

“lover boy is being quite over there. what is it? cat got your tongue?” she was taunting you and definitely enjoying it too. walking closer to you, she neared your face while the others were beside gojo, “you’re both fools believing you guys could be together in the first place, that’s how it works–” she was cut off by the stomp of your foot on the ground lifting a piece of rock–the one gojo was on, up to the air, away from your ex-friends. if you couldn’t save yourself, you could at least save him; apologize for your past mistakes.

from where you were, you couldn’t do much, but you used all your might to send rock flying in the air towards them meanwhile keeping gojo away from them. your cursed technique was called upon the tainted sorrow, the ability to manipulate gravity, and it was unrivaled in europe. you trained too much to reach where you were, the strongest just like gojo, but even the strong can fall, and all it takes is the blink of an eye.

you were on the ground again, but this time blood pouring from your insides, a deadly piercing through your abdomen. while you were so engrossed with trying to keep gojo safe, you hadn’t realized he was already off the piece of rock fighting the rest. and he had made the mistake of underestimating them, resulting in the struggle. but that distraction was enough for elizabeth to pierce the cursed knife through you.

one second you were on the ground; the next, you were in someone’s arms. looking up, you were met with the crystal blue eyes you had grown to love staring right back at yours. this reminded you of the moments where you used to lay on his chest, hands tangled in his snow-white hair, his hands keeping you tight against him, eyes staring at each other with nothing but love. how unfortunate things weren’t that way now. you bleeding onto his hands which hopelessly applied pressure to your wound in hopes of saving you, his blindfold now off, tears slowly caressing his face. it was a sight for the eyes. you lifted your hand up to cup his cheek, imprinting a red hand mark right where you touched him, “satoru–”

“save your breath, i called for shoko; she’ll be here any minute, and we can save you–” you silenced him with your thumb on his lips, “satoru, this was inevitable, even if you save me now, they’ll still be after me. it’ll be a never-ending cycle.”

“no, i can keep you safe, y/n. remember? it’s us against the world, baby. always has been and always will be.” he kissed your forehead, still keeping you close. his eyes were shut tight; he could feel your consciousness slipping away and knew he couldn’t save you. but can’t a man hope? and as you uttered your last words, body temperature turning cold, breathing stopping, he knew right then and there this was where he lost it all. this was how he lost the light of his world, in his own hands, between his arms.

“for what it’s worth, i love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard.” and he knew those words would haunt him for an eternity. follow him wherever he went. the ghost of you will always be with him, never leaving. you will hold him down by gravity with just your soul. yet he still wanted to curse the gods for taking you away from him, his fresh breath of air, his anchor.

your love was strong, but the timing was wrong, and love decided that you both didn’t belong.

#jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen angst

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taeyohonic · 4 years ago

Text

the trophy wife (m)

summary: the proposal doesn’t go as planned (established relationship, idol au, fluff and angst) pairing: min yoongi x fem!reader rating: explicit (18+) warnings (containing spoilers): swearing, robbery, pandemic, vomit, description of injuries and blood (very abstract), mentions of depression, insomina and periods, a hella lot ugly crying info: when i tell you that this is a super-duper fluffy piece, i’m not lying! it was 99% sweetness, so i added a little... angst (but like... only 10%) related work: the stalker | baby, what’s wrong? | favoritism (m) | the trophy wife words: 5.7k

“would you still love me if i became your trophy wife?”

yoongi snorts into his iphone, your grimace too adorable to be taken seriously.

“how bad are these papers?”, he asks. jungkook next to him is stealing curious glances at his hyung’s screen. to hear your voice so distressed makes him worry. you’re the best thing that ever happened to his member – your well-being comes right after his need for homemade kimchi.

“how… can they not know which products contain dairy? how yoongs?”, you vent eyeing the ungraded test in front of you.

“i ate… so much yogurt. the whole class did. we tested so much dairy products… like… so much. we drank all of the banana milk… how can they get this wrong?”, you continue. unbeknown to you, the maknae is now furrowing his brows at your words. wait a minute…

“noona, did you steal my banana milk last week?”, jungkook questions and moves closer to yoongi. before you can hide you see his big eyes joining your boyfriend on the screen.

“wow, jungkookie – your undercut looks so good. damn!”, you say. it’s not a total deflection; he does look extremely handsome after his haircut.

“noona, i thought i sleepwalked”, he whines, not caring for your compliment… right now.

“taehyung even made a meme out of it”, he complaints and you have the audacity to coo at him. yoongi tries to hide his smile, but he can see his reflection grinning on the screen.

“it was oppa’s idea!”

and now his smile freezes as jungkook moves his accusing glare to him. you don’t usually call yoongi by this name. and he’d be all too happy to shut you up in your shared bedroom. but now he and the boys are in the outskirts of seoul to film the newest music video, far away from you and your treacherous mouth.

“hyung?”, jungkook asks with the voice of a cheated wife ready to sign the divorce papers.

“it’s for the kids, maknae”, your boyfriend defends himself to which jungkook only huffs in irritation.

“there was a time when i was the kid – what happened? am i not cute enough anymore? noona? am i not the most adorable?”

his deer eyes stare at you – big, brown and full. you can’t help but to take a screenshot of these two – your rapper visibly done with his member and jungkook in the middle of a banana milk breakdown. you’ll have to frame this picture.

“you’re the most adorable thing there is, jungkookie”, you reassure him. yoongi just snorts when he sees the faintest flush on his bandmate’s face.

“that’s enough praise for him, baby. save it for your students.” there is no humor in the smile you send him. after a beat of silence in which you burry all your frustration deep inside the pits of your stomach, you try to change the subject.

“how is nature?” they’ve been in the woods for weeks, completely closed off from all the city drama. you’ve never seen jimin so excited to drive – while namjoon’s sour face reflected how much the latest failed drivers test bothered him.

“jin-hyung nearly died in the water today. it was epic”, your friend instead of your boyfriend answers and you have to shift a giggle at yoongi’s eyeroll.

“be gone, maknae”

rudely blunt – just how you liked your partner. jungkook just winks at you in a silent goodbye and gets up. he’s nearly out of the picture before his upper body shoves against the rapper. his nose is way too close to the screen and you’d be worried about his eyes – if you didn’t know how often the singer spends his nights in front of his computer.

“noona, you’ll replace the milk, right?”

“jungkook”, yoongi growls in responds. the boy is not acknowledging his colleague, so you give in and nod.

“of course, kookie. it’s already waiting in the fridge for you to come back”, you tell him. as soon as these words leave your mouth, the maknae is satisfied and gone.

“you don’t have to baby him that much, ____”, yoongi says while moving the phone closer to his face. you can see the dark circles under his eyes better now.

“what’s keeping you up at night, yoongs?”, you ask instead of answering his complaint. the rapper smiles faintly at the screen.

“you, baby, always you” yu snort and let yourself lie down on the couch – the papers can wait another day, or a lifetime.

“i wish”, you say truthfully. you’d sell one of your kidneys to relax with the boys far away from the pandemic madness. after having yoongi to yourself for two weeks non-stop, you are way too spoiled. even though your legs are deeply grateful for this recovery time, you miss the constant calm radiating off of your boyfriend.

“i’ll be back soon, baby”, he reassures you and draws lines across the screen. your cheeks look colorless and it worries him just as much as his lack of sleep bothers you.

“make it sooner”, you mutter and close your eyes when you hear his chuckle in responds.

“have you had dinner yet?”, yoongi asks but you don’t want to open your eyes, not ready to face his criticism.

“nah, i’ll wait till sungho gets here.” you don’t need your eyesight to feel his disapproval.

“that’s not very socially distance of you, ____.” yeah, no baby anymore. still, you remain shut off.

“he’s just a friend. one friend. one work friend. one work friend that needs help with the new school cloud. the online grading program is a pain in the ass.”

“and why do you have to do that at six on a friday night in our home?”, yoongi notices the tiniest of smiles on your lips as he mentions your shared home. he, too, loves your little flat with a pandora of memories.

“because i am a loner and don’t have anything better planed for the weekend and my boyfriend is camping in the woods and oh – there is a global pandemic”, you snort and open your eyes to watch your boyfriend’s tensed expression.

“if you’re a loner – what am i then? a stone?”, yoongi asks sarcastically.

“maybe a boulder”, you shoot back with a soft smile that melts his jealousy away… nearly.

“just… don’t let him touch my stuff”, yoongi orders. he’d trade his own maknae to be the one at the other side of your door when he hears a distant knocking sound.

“that’ll be him, yoongs”, you say and move off the couch with as much dignity as one can muster after a whole work week and no motivation left in the bones.

“promise to call me back when you’re in bed?”, your boyfriend pleads, reluctant to let you go. with him going on world tours this phone conversation isn’t your first and it won’t be the last. still, his small request fills you with yearning.

“of course”, you promise, eyes still on him as you open the door without a second thought.

a fist connects with your skull while your eyes widen at the sight of two ski-masked men. the pain is instantly blinding your senses and you start to scream with tears clouding your vision. you fall to the floor before they push their way inside your home. one of them, muscle clad with wide shoulders kicks you in the stomach just to move you out of their way. the other, smaller in statue, crushes your phone with his shoe, the cracked screen frozen with your boyfriend starring at you in horror.

namjoon will never forget the bone chilling scream waking him this evening from his nap. he’s never heard yoongi’s voice filled to the brim with pain. not even registering his movements, he tumbles into the living room where is friend is still yelling your name, his face a mask of panic.

“hyung, what’s wrong?”, namjoon asks as footsteps behind him signal the arrival of his bandmates.

yoongi’s hands shake as his eyes stay fixed on the screen of his form. the leader moves first, not able to watch his friend losing himself. when joon steps behind yoongi’s figure to calm him down, a cold shower travels through his body. the screen shows you lying on the floor with red dripping from your mouth. your eyes are closed, but namjoon notices the uneven rise and fall of your chest – you’re breathing.

“jin, call the police”, the leader orders without turning around. his hands try to pry the phone out of yoongi’s fingers, but they are white with pressure and unforgiving. his lungs are still screaming and namjoon’s heart breaks at the scene.

“hyung, - just… calm down”, he says, not quite believing in his own words. he wouldn’t calm down either in yoongi’s position.

“what am i reporting?”, seokjin asks, close enough that the question answers itself as soon as he peaks over yoongi’s shoulder.

“i’d like to report a break-in – there is a person, hurt. the address is-“

yoongi can’t hear his oldest colleague, the voice drowned by his worry for you. at first, he doesn’t register namjoon’s chest pressing behind his back, but then his body shudders when the fellow rapper hugs him from behind.

“hyung, we – sh – it’s gonna be okay. it’ll be okay, she’s okay… we… you have to calm down, yoongi”, namjoon sooths his friend of ten years and rocks them both from side to side.

“taehyung, call the building manager – there should be security in the foyer”, seokjin commands the young man who watches the scene in front of him passively. as soon as he hears his name though, the singer moves to grab his iphone with shaky fingers.

“look, hyung, she’s awake”, joon points out and yoongi shakes his head to move these stupid tears out of his vision. indeed, your eyes are open as you try to even your breathing. it looks like you are crying as well and yoongi has never felt this kind of searing pain before. to see the love of his life in tears and burglars destroying your home while he is in the middle of fucking nowhere, makes him sick. when he sees you trying to get up, only to drop back onto the floor, his stomach turns. yoongi vomits onto his lap and namjoon has to hold his friend upright as he loses consciousness.

you’ve never been this glad for the heavy painkillers your boyfriend has tugged away in the bathroom due to his immense shoulder problems. the icepack pressed to your forehead cools for body down; still, you are shaking with adrenaline as you watch the security guard pace in front of you.

“yes, sir, yes – no, of course sir, negative sir”, he looks at your shaking form and grimaces before answering. “minor injuries”, the guard holds his phone further away when his caller answers a few decibels too loud.

“the paramedics are on their way”, he responds, not daring to look you directly in the eye. after another game of “yes and no”, the security ends his call.

“how are you, ma’am?”, the man in uniform asks, but remains standing a few feet away. when he first got here after receiving a hectic message from his boss, you were crying on the floor – alone. his colleague is already checking the floors, while another is combing through the surveillance footage. it’s been five minutes and you still look like a ghost.

his instructions were crystal clear – don’t touch the subject. but his heart clenches when he sees your trembling form trying to calm yourself down.

before you can answer him, two paramedics arrive through the door. they zero in on the blood drying across your forehead. their hands press gently against your skin and ask you questions you try to answer. soon, they move you to a standing position, with your head wound dressed and your vitals checked.

“we’ll take you to the hospital, ma’am”, the older woman explains. with a few steps you are at the door – there, right on the threshold where your nightmare began half an hour ago, stands sungho, chinese take-out and laptop in hand. your fellow teacher looks at you with widened eyes.

“_____ - what the hell?”, he curses and nearly drops his food when you smile at him – your teeth unbeknown to you still tinted red.

“are you her partner?”, the paramedic asks.

“just a friend”, he answers, not letting you out of his sight.

“we have to get her to the hospital – will you accompany us?”, the medic questions and sungho nods. your little crowd moves to the elevator and the security guard closes your door with a soft click. the police will be here soon, he thinks as he watches your beaten figure step onto the elevator.

“this cannot be the way to do this, ___”, sungho exclaims while you are staring at the iv-drip connected to your arm in distress. you hate needles.

the hospital’s v.i.p room is normally reserved for celebrities, but they made an exception for you, the girlfriend of min yoongi. sejin’s hunched form outside the room might have played a role in that. bangtan’s manager arrived half an hour ago, worried and disheveled. his posture calmed when the doctors reassured him, you’d be okay. now, he’s waiting for seven idols in various stages of panic to arrive.

“it’s the way this works – just… do as i say, okay?”, you huff. there is a part of you not willing to let the last hours crash into you; not without your partner here. so, you’ve spent the last sixty minutes showing him how to use your new school cloud – the easy way, not the right one.

“but the course still doesn’t show in my settings”, he whines, and you roll your eyes while pushing cold pad thai in your mouth. the rich flavor appeases your hungry stomach and you swallow the take-out down in one breathe. songho is a godsend for bringing the ordered food with him to the hospital. it’s a much-needed distraction from the horror of your cracked rib and light concussion.

“you have to set the course to ‘official’ – it’s still private”, you explain with another mouthful of oily noodles slurring your speech.

sungho’s brows furrow in concentration when you hear heavy footsteps in the hall. the boys are there – and they are not slowing down.

before sejin can even try to greet the idols, yoongi pushes through the door – all six of them only a breath behind.

the second you see him, the tears start without your consent. yoongi looks crazy – his eyes gleam with insanity – as he sucks in the hospital air through his mask.

you’re here. you’re alive. you’re safe. you’re here. he’s here. you are both here. his thoughts are running in circles – not ready to slow down, not ready to expand.

your boyfriend resembles a statue; just standing in front of the hospital bed. his face screams for help and it breaks you as the first cry leaves your throat. in a flash yoongi is moving to you, bumping into a shocked sungho. his finger brush against your wet cheeks like you’d break under his touch, while your body collapses.

“baby”, he whispers – the first word his members have heard since he regained consciousness.

“yoongs”, you answer and throw your arms around his neck. the smell of vomit and sweat makes your nose crunch up, but your boyfriend hugs it all away. his forearms rest on each side of your head – supporting his weight – as he lets you hold on to him, the boyfriend who was playing idol life in the woods instead of being at home with his girlfriend. even through his mask he can breathe in your unique smell, clouded by disinfectant.

“noona”, the youngest whimpers from the doorway. jungkook is silently crying, his mask discolored from the tears. every member looks at you with sorrow, the younger ones visibly not as professional at keeping their emotions together. namjoon looks like he’s aged a decade, but there is a small smile pressing his eyes together behind his mask. you try to reciprocate his smile, but yoongi’s head his pressing against your cheeks with vigor.

“why don’t we give them some space?”, sejin says to which your coworker nods instantly. he’s your friend for sure – but this is a level of intimacy he’s not willing to share with you.

the members need more convincing as hoseok tries to gently pull jungkook back. the maknae vehemently shakes his head, not ready to leave you and yoongi alone.

“we’ll wait right outside, kookie”, seokjin coax him out of the room. he’s still reluctant so go, but jimin’s small body pushes against his back. soon, namjoon closes the door, leaving you alone.

your tears won’t stop and you try to move closer to your boyfriend – you want to feel him all around you. without words yoongi understands your need and presses his body down on yours. there is a sharp pain when his stomach meets your fractured rib.

“ah”, you breathe, hurting. yoongi extracts himself from you in a flash; every fiber of his being furious at your injury.

“baby”, he calls out as his fingers ghost across your ribcage.

“it’ll… it’ll heal soon”, you say timidly.

“how could this happen, baby?”, he asks, still more interested in your upper body than your eyes.

“i-i i should-d have che-checked the door before, ah before answering”, you whimper, ready to face the blame.

with yoongi’s lifestyle comes a certain level of danger. you’ve been trained to be more cautious with everyday things like grocery shopping, inviting new friends over, answering the door without checking the cam.

“no, no, no, no – baby – no…”, he hushes you. “they should have never been able to pass the foyer, nor should they have been able to move to the penthouse level.”

“i-i was so scared”, you admit, linking your fingers with his and pressing them close to your still beating heart.

“i know, baby, me too”, yoongi soothes you and flexes his fingertips against your warm skin.

“i’ve never felt this worthless… you got hurt… right in front of me… and i … i couldn’t do anything.” his voice shakes with emotions and slowly his stare moves to your bruised face. the madness has nearly died in his eyes – but there is still so much pain hidden behind his brown iris.

“i- i could have lost you”, he whispers darkly, speaking a truth into reality he is not ready to face. your crying has stopped now that the both of you are calmer and connected.

“nah, never, remember?”, you say with some form of humor behind your words. “i’m your trophy wife. trophy wives don’t die. first, they’d kill their rich husband”, you remind your boyfriend of your conversation half a lifetime ago.

“it’d be an honor getting murdered by you, baby.” his mask is gone in a flash and then you feel the warmth of his lips against your temple. “just let me finish my third mixtape first.”

“don’t move, noona”, jungkook pleads as the warm sunlight irritates your skin. the fresh air is caressing your body while the youngest tries to finish his painting. trees surround the both of you, resting on a soft picnic blanket. it’s the first time since your release from the hospital that yoongi has left you out of his sight. granted, you’re still not totally alone with the strongest bangtan member watching over you like a hawk. but it’s definitely a much-needed break from yoongi’s fretting.

after nearly throwing a tantrum in front of his manager und some staff members who wanted to continue the filming of their new “in the soop” show, all the members knew they’d have to handle their rapper with care. leaving you alone wasn’t an option, so taehyung and seokjin packed your suitcase with essentials and after your doctors determined you ready to rest at home, all eight of you moved back to the chill vacation home in the middle of nowhere.

the last few days have been difficult – the filming staff getting more and more irritated because the members flocked around you 24/7. sejin had to come up with a different schedule allowing every bandmate time to reconnect with you as well as time to do their work. only yoongi was allowed to not leave your side most of the day – him working on the new music being the cover for his absence.

but after days of your boyfriend breathing down your neck, you’ve had enough. so, now yoongi is out on the water with seokjin fishing, while you’re spending time with jungkook.

“when did the police say they are coming?”, you ask the painter. his nose is crunched in concentration as he tries to outline your hipbone.

“they should be here before lunch – if your boyfriend even manages to catch some lunch”, he answers. you snort, messing up his grasp of your proportions.

“i do have faith in seokjin’s ability.” jungkook chuckles but keeps his eyes on your drawing. you look so delicate, so soft, he can’t believe they nearly lost you.

“i got robbed – i didn’t die, kookie”, you read his mind as his eyes darken.

“you got hurt”, he responds through clenched teeth.

“and they’ll pay for that”, you vow. the police had called this morning with the news of your robbers being captured during another crime. you’re still not sure how the officers can be so sure they’re the same criminals, but you’re eager to close this chapter with your statement later that day.

your painting session gets interrupted by namjoon. “the detectives are already here, ____.”

jungkook is by your side in a flash and together with the leader the both of them help you up. the rib is healing and harsh movements still hurt. yoongi had a near meltdown when you tried to ride him yesterday morning only to topple over in pain.

“yoongi and jin don’t have a signal out in the water – but they won’t be long”, namjoon explains and guides you indoors to meet the two officers.

“ms. ______, a pleasure to meet you”, the older policeman says in greeting. the younger one only shifts uncomfortable when he sees you flanked by two famous idols.

“thanks for coming all this way”, you respond and bow slowly, not to put extra pressure on your rib.

“is there somewhere we could talk – uhm- privately?”, the old man asks and you show them to one of the office rooms in the back. jungkook reluctantly leaves your side and joon only squeezes your hand in passing.

“just holler when you need us, _____”, he says before ordering the maknae to clean the art supplies.

with both officers sitting across from you, you nervously fiddle in your chair.

“the two intruders were caught this morning while pawning off their haul”, the younger policeman states and shows you a surveillance picture of two familiar men. their figures alone invoke iced fear in your heart, and you push the picture out of your sight. after a moment of silence, you collect yourself enough to absorb the information.

“what did they steal? i – i didn’t report anything missing, sir”, you question. sure, they trashed the painting yoongi brought for you during your last vacation in italy. and some cloths were thrown across the bedroom – but there was nothing stolen. you even signed your statement last week before leaving for the woods.

the officers look at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“miss, you reported the item missing days ago. there is even a harsh voicemail left with your fiancé demanding a swift investigation.” you shake your head at their words – no, you didn’t.

“which item?”, you ask the men with narrowed eyes. you’d been off the pain meds for days now. but to call yoongi your fiancé? clearly, they’d switched up cases. the older officer opens his briefcase to retrieve a plastic bag with a… ring in it.

“in my days, my wife would have never forgotten about her engagement ring”, the man snickers as you watch the cold metal in front of you. it’s beautiful – it’s so yoongi, you wouldn’t be surprised if he himself crafted the asymmetric diamond set on roughened silver.

you’d dreamed of this moment for over a year – to lay eyes on the ring cementing your future in stone – or diamonds.

never would you have imagined it to be this tainted with two officers starring you down and the jewelry wrapped carelessly in plastic – a piece of evidence – while your boyfriend is fishing with kim seokjin.

“uhm”, you hesitate as emotions swirl around your brain. he was going to propose? to you?

“i had half a panic attack carrying it around with me the whole day – that thing could pay off all my debt, as well as my kid’s college fees”, the officer jokes, still not recognizing your surprise as genuine.

“uhm”, you try again to form words.

“we’ve all the papers here for you to sign; after that we’ll be ready to get out of your hair… for now”, the youngest states and moves different documents across the table. they lie next to yoongi’s engagement ring – your engagement ring.

“uhm”

giving up on forming a coherent sentence, you move along and sign your name on the different protocols. the paper from your insurance company makes your heart still – reading all the zeros on the price of your ring.

this… is by far the worst engagement set up you’ve ever heard of. your hands shack and your signature looks just terrible, but it’s enough for the two detectives. they still don’t seem to find your reaction odd as they collect their stuff and bid you fare well. like a zombie you get up and follow them to the front door, your ring clutched between your fingertips.

jungkook and jimin are waiting for you next to the foyer and jump at the sight of your pale face.

“everything alright?”, jimin asks and places a protective hand on your back. your slow nod does not convince them and their eyes sour at the policemen.

while the younger officer takes a step back, the oldest just chuckles at your idol friends.

“all is well, kids”, he sooths them. then both bow to you and you can only muster an awkward smile, the jewelry heavy in your hand.

“happy wedding planning, ms. ____”, he winks at you before they leave. the soft click of the closing door is the only sound in the hallway. you’re not even sure you’re breathing.

after a beat of silence you flinch at the sound of jimin’s high-pitched squeal.

“weeeedding”, he asks, way too loud and way too joyful. the mochi-cheeked idol excitedly jumps up and down, not really caring that you remain silent.

jungkook on the other hand looks … really upset. “you told the police but not me?”, he whispers betrayed.

you could cry as you feel the headache from your concussion clouding your mind. this is… too much.

“uhm”, you’ve decided to stick with your running-gag answer and push both idols out of your way.

your feet carry you out of the house, through the terrace door and before you know it, you’re running across the green gras. the smell of the lake invades your nose while you search for you boyfriend. yoongi’s boat is still on the water and you spot both men resting against each other with their rods, ready to catch your lunch. sunshine shimmers on the lake’s surface as you run onto the dock. your bare feet press against the wood while your hair rushes around you – the wind breezing through the unkempt strands.

“is… is that _____, yoongi?”, seokjin asks his fishing buddy who’s more focused watching the water for prey than his surroundings.

“huh?”, he hums, not really listening to his friend.

“i- i think your girlfriend wants to talk to you, yoongi”, the old singer says hesitantly as he sees you jumping up and down on the wooden dock. this can’t be good for your health.

swiftly, the rapper turns to the spot seokjin is pointing at. and there you stand – beautiful and barefoot, dressed in his t-shirt and some old leggings. your hair is a mess and the sun dances across your skin like the tiniest firework.

“MIN YOONGI”, you shout at the top of your lungs. your boyfriend flinches hearing your loud voice across the water.

“she sounds angry”, seokjin whispers.

“YOU FOOL”, you continue to yell and see seokjin’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“oh, i hope the crew gets this on tape”, he says with glee while yoongi really, truly tries to find a reason for your anger. he’s left you alone today, at your request. maybe you didn’t really want him to go? was it a test to see how much he wanted to stay with you? did he fail?

“I GOT YOUR RING!”, you shout and flash the evidence bag high in the air.

immediately, the rapper shoots up from his sitting position, rocking the boat dangerously form side to side.

“yah, yoongi, what the hell?”, seokjin swears but your boyfriend’s eyes rest on you, holding your engagement ring in a plastic bag. there is no air in his lungs – he’s been thinking about this moment for the last two years. he dreamed of your joyful tears, how soft your hands would feel while pushing the silver banner on your finger.

and now… he’s an ocean away from you holding on to the jewelry that got you hurt weeks ago.

“DO YOU WANT TO ASK ME SOMETHING, MIN YOONGI?”, you scream and your boyfriend’s eyes widen when they see the smile on your lips; do you – do you find this funny?

without thinking, he takes a step forward.

You can only watch seokjin’s helpless grimace as yoongi brings the boat out of balance. both idols topple over and splash into the cold sea.

the icy water doesn’t bother the rapper as he pushes to the surface. the sun shines high up while he speeds to the dock. you’ve never seen your boyfriend this determent – his laps forceful and quick, leaving a still shocked seokjin behind.

your fingers shake as you watch him come closer and closer to you. in mere moments he’s close enough for you to hear his heavy breathing.

yoongi heaves himself out of the cold, his shoulder screaming in pain, and then he is dripping in front of you. your boyfriend looks like a wet dog, the black hair plastered to his forehead as he steps forward. you can smell the sea salt across his drenched clothes.

the engagement ring screams from the bag to be acknowledged and yoongi is just… staring at you deeply.

“i had it all planned”, he whispers wringing his sweater. the gush of water drops on the deck, but the idol only looks at you. “weeks ago.” his fingers wrap around your writs, a silent plea to give the ring to its rightful owner – for now.

“i wanted to take you to the restaurant where we had our first date”, he admits and opens the bag. your first date had been a disaster – you’re still vividly remembering the food poisoning.

“then all the restaurants closed down; we were both so stressed… and… life went on”, yoongi continues as the ring dances between his fingertips. it looks like art without the plastic cheapening its presence.

“i... wanted it to be perfect.” his whispered words fall to the floor as he kneels in front of you. warmth is coloring your face, seeing your idol submitting to you.

“baby… you know how much i love you… how much you inspire me every day to become the best version of myself”, yoongi’s voice cracks against his words and you can’t help the softest coo from leaving your lips.

“i promise i’ll make you the best trophy wife of south korea.”

you snort as you hear boyish snicker from behind you at yoongi’s joke.

“will you spend the rest of my life with this ring on your hand?”, he asks and without waiting for an answer, he pushes the silver band on your finger. it fits perfectly.

“am i not supposed to agree first?”, you respond as your eyes stay on your future husband.

“oh baby, you agreed the moment you ate my burned pasta.” yoongi gets up and pushes a lose strand of hair behind your ears.

“you agreed the moment you moved in with me, a struggling insomniac.” his hands cradle your face, framing the expression of love between his palms.

“you agreed the moment you let me change your tampon because you were too drunk to move.” he gives you airy butterfly kisses.

“you agreed the moment you didn’t kill me for stealing your favorite ice cream from the freezer.”

“that actually was a close call”, you chime in, only to hear his soft chuckle.

“you agreed all those nights staying with holly in our shared bed while i traveled across the globe.”

a kiss is planted on the fresh scar across your temple. “you agreed all these moments where my depression was too much, where i was trapped in my own misery.”

a line of kisses travels to your mouth. mere millimeters from your lips he stills. “you do, right?”

under all the layers of love, confidence and familiarity, there is still a shy boy unsure of his worth. your smile is infused with giddiness as you close the gap, pressing your lips together in the softest kiss.

“i do”, you whisper in his mouth, only to meet his tongue with your own in a joyful dance. the boys around you are cheering, while the soft waves of the lake clash against the dock. you’re in pure bliss, kissing your wet fiancé fiercely.

and then you hear a loud thud, a wet slash on the wood. surprised, you both jump away a step – only to see a heaving seokjin lying flat on the deck, chest rising at a fast pace.

“i near- i nearly died for th-this engagement, ____. if – if i’m am not the be-best man, i’ll… will cast a spell on all- all yo-ur children.”

____

ah, this fic is crazy and totally not what i imagined it to become. i hope you enjoyed the read! there is only one chapter left (the stalker) – who’s excited for it? i hope you are doing well! to you, your family and/or loved ones i wish only the most festive time this week! love, dana

#btswriterscollective #bangtanuniversity #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts established relationship #yoongi idol au #bts idol au #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #min yoongi

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

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Merlin has been gone for two years, Arthur has a meeting with the Lord Emrys to help with the changing laws:

And he has never bitterly regretted sending Merlin away more

Part 2(final part)

Angst,

I'm gonna say... about 6 months before Uther dies, Merlin's magic is revealed to Arthur.

He really does NOT react well.

Arthur doesn't let Merlin get a word of explanation in, before he hits him on the head so hard he's unconscious before he even hits the floor.

When Merlin wakes up, what he can only assume is MUCH later, he's wearing cold iron shackles, he's been blindfolded, and gagged.

He just listens at first, still dazed and certainly concussed.

After about twenty minutes he's more aware, and realises... he's outside, in a forest, and he's on his own.

It’s been two years since Arthur abandoned Merlin in the woods beyond Camelot’s border.

He’s been King now for about a year and a half.

He went back three days later and tracked Merlin for a few hours, before coming to the conclusion that he'd gotten away safely, and heading back to Camelot.

He always tried to justify it to himself as protecting Merlin from Uther, ignoring the fact that Merlin had managed just fine on his own for years.

But really that was just an excuse. All he saw in the moment was a liar and a traitor. Really he should've had Merlin executed so... he's still a good person. He did the right thing.

He hadn't told anyone else the truth (perhaps because he knows they would hate him for it). Instead he told them that he and Merlin had argued, and before Arthur could get to the bottom of why his manservant was so irate, he stormed off in the middle of the night, and told him he wasn't coming back.

He stuck to that story the whole two years, though he's fairly certain they at least suspect he's lying. Gaius definitely does.

I imagine Gaius, only a few days after Merlin's disappearance, taking Arthur aside one night, and demanding to know if Merlin was dead. If Arthur had killed him:

"No! No of course not. He... we had a fight. It's like I said. He left in the night and told me not to follow him, that he wasn't coming back. I plan to respect his wishes."

Gaius releases the bruising grip he'd had on Arthur’s arm and takes a step back, his expression unreadable as he stares at the Prince.

"I...why would think I killed him?"

"Despite the fact that he most certainly could've defended himself against you, I always found it troubling how willing he was to let you execute him, should that be what you wanted."

Arthur has no reply to that, what would he even say? Would Merlin really have willingly walked to a pyre? If Arthur had only asked?

Gaius goes to walk away at that, but just before he shuts the door behind him, he pauses, and without looking back, says:

"If I find out you have killed my son, Sire, for who he is, there will... there is a large group of people who would see that justice is served. Myself included."

Everyone notices the change in the relationship between Gaius and Arthur since Merlin had left.

Arthur, with the knowledge that Gaius knows. Knows the truth and had guessed what he'd done. He couldn't face that.

They barely spoke to each other, Arthur avoided the physician wherever possible and words of encouragement and kindness were no longer aimed his way from the gentle old man.

His relationships with the others deteriorated as well.

They either thought he was telling the truth, and resented him for both being cruel to Merlin, and letting him go so easily.

(After years of Arthur treating Merlin terribly, no one is really surprised that Merlin had decided he'd had enough and left.)

OR they thought he was lying, hiding something, and resented him for not telling them the truth, and potentially doing something unforgivable to Merlin.

All but Gwaine are still polite to him, showing him the due respect of a Prince, and then a King, but not of a friend.

After a series of hijinks, Arthur comes to the terrifying realisation that magic isn't all bad.

Really I think, he's known all along. But admitting that magic wasn't pure evil made what he did to Merlin even more unforgivable.

He begins making moves to legalise it. It's slow and difficult, and he meets resistance at every turn.

BUT he also has the surprising support of Gaius, and his knights, and Gwen, and Morgana.

Still, none of them treat him like a friend, not the way they used to, but they're helping him along the way. He hadn't realised how many people close to him opposed the ban, until he started dismantling it.

Hope rises in him, over the months, as he realises that once he's legalised magic, he can find Merlin, and bring him back. The first place he'll check is Ealdor.

He's... scared of that. Scared that he won't be able to find him, but more scared that he will. That Merlin will hate him. That Merlin won't care that he's repealing the ban and won't want to come back.

Arthur doesn't think he could bare that.

Mostly because he knows that it would be entirely his own fault.

After the ban is finally lifted, there are huge celebrations. If the King is seen to be searching the crowds, as if for a familiar face, no one mentions it.

A few days later, a group of Druids come for an audience with the King, and are met by Arthur in the courtyard.

After quick introductions, and pleasantries, the leader begins to speak:

"Once and Future King, I first want to extend my gratitude for this warm welcome, and promise that you have the Druid's full support in lifting the ban. We hope for a peaceful future, full of cooperation and compassion."

Arthur nods and smiles slightly at that, but before he can reply in anyway, the Druid speaks again:

"Our leader, the leader of all Druids and all magic of the world, would like to convene with you, and discuss the specifics of any future agreements between our two worlds."

Arthur is surprised at that, but hides it well. Leader of... all magic? Sounds... powerful:

"Of course, I readily accept. They may bring themselves forth, I will make time for a meeting whenever they so choose."

"Your majesty, My Lord Emrys already awaits you in the throne room-"

(The Druid smiles at Arthur's barely concealed shock at his words, both at the idea that someone had snuck into his castle undetected, and at the mention of Emrys. One of the the few conversations he'd had with Gaius had been an in-depth explanation of who Emrys was, and his and Arthur's destiny (the physician had failed, of course, to mention Emrys' true identity.))

The Druid continues gently:

"-He's not one for public appearances."

"I.... of course. Will you and your group be attending? Or would you like to be shown to your rooms immediately?"

"This is a matter to be discussed privately, between the two of you, My Lord. Myself and my group have a camp just beyond the city walls that we will return to. Thank you for the offer of hospitality, we appreciate the kindness greatly."

With that, the Druid gives another short bow before turning and leaving through the castle gates, his group following closely behind him.

Arthur takes a deep breath, briefly glancing at Sir Leon, who stands at his side, and instructing him to inform the council that any remaining meetings for the day had been cancelled.

Leon gives a stiff nod and stalks off. He had been the best at hiding his disdain for his former best friend, but it still shone through occasionally, and Arthur's heart clenches as he thinks that he really can blame no one but himself for the deterioration of everything in his personal life.

With another deep breath, he re-enters the castle, and heads towards the throne room, trying to psyche himself up for meeting the supposed Leader of All Magic, who had managed to sneak his way into the heart of the castle, without anyone noticing or raising the alarm.

He pauses briefly outside the doors, and instructs the guards to not let Anyone in, without the King's express permission.

They nod, and with that, Arthur opens the doors and enters, shutting them quietly, before turning around to be faced with a near empty throne room.

He furrows his brow as his eyes settle on a single man, his back to Arthur where he stands gazing out a window, onto the courtyard below.

Arthur can't see his face, he can't see much of him to be honest, he's shrouded in a floor length blue cloak, hood up and covering his head.

The King stares only for a moment before raising himself to his full height, clearing his throat, and speaking:

"Lord Emrys? It's my honour to welcome you to Camelot. Thank you for coming."

The man turns his head slightly at that, though not enough for Arthur to see any more of his face.

"Your honour?-"

He huffs a small laugh at that, though it sounds dry and sarcastic, as opposed to genuinely humoured.

"- we shall see about that."

His voice comes out strangely, obviously magically altered, and Arthur has to stop himself from gulping at the many voices echoing around the otherwise empty room.

They sound sort of... familiar? But he pushes that feeling down and takes yet another deep breath:

"Of course. I've been told a great deal about you. That you have always been an ally to Camelot, and have protected both me personally, and the Kingdom, from the shadows, never asking for credit or requesting recognition. I thank you for that, my gratitude knows no bounds. You had no reason to protect a kingdom that previously would have seen you burn, though I swear to you, that is not how things work now."

Emrys let's out a chuckle at that, this one somehow even less humoured than the last

He gives a small nod, before saying, almost to himself, though Arthur hears anyway:

"Yes, we shall see."

His voice is no longer disguised, and Arthur once again pushes down the feeling of recognition blooming in his chest. He's sure he knows that voice.

("It sounds like.... no. It isn't. Stop hearing things that aren't there. You're just setting yourself up for heartbreak." runs through his head.)

Arthur is unsure how to continue the conversation from there, but before he has to force some sort of response out, Emrys finally turns, and lowers his hood.

Arthur takes a step back and gasps, his eyes wide.

Merlin's hard eyes stare back at him, his expression completely blank. He looks very different, but is still recognisable as Arthur's former manservant.

"...Merlin?" Escapes Arthur's mouth, so quietly he can barely hear it himself

At this, Emrys let's out a deep sigh, sounding almost resigned, as he cocks an eyebrow and replies:

"No one's called me that in two and a half years. You know, I used to hate the idea of people calling me Emrys instead of Merlin. Now, I find that I feel the exact opposite.-"

He tilts his head slightly, looking briefly puzzled as he maintains eye contact and mumbles:

“-Or perhaps it’s just you.”

At this Arthur gulps, and really looks at Merlin... or Emrys.

He's bulked out a little, no longer skinny and sickly looking, he fills his clothes (good quality, blues and silvers and blacks, intricate patterns and fitting well) in a way he never had before. His hair has grown out long and curls around his ears. His beard has grown in a little.

(Think, the living and the dead) :

His hands, which now have druid markings tattooed all over (they're also just about visible above his collar, though they don't go very far up his neck) , are clasped tightly in front of him, his fingers adorned with a couple of rings.

Nothing he wears looks especially expensive, Merlin had never been one to dress up, but they are good quality, and screamed "Druid" and "powerful".

"You're Emrys? Why did you never say??"

Merli-... Emrys tenses his jaw at that, his face showing slight anger as opposed to the boredom it displayed before, but before he can answer, the gang bursts in all at once.

Arthur can hear the guards yelling over the top of the door banging against the wall, and the footsteps of eight people rushing into the room.

"I tried to stop them sire but they wouldn't- Merlin??" From Leon has Arthur letting out a frustrated growl.

The King sweeps his eyes over the rest of the group as they all stare in surprise at Merlin.

Gaius is the only one who doesn't look surprised, he is instead smiling, and steps forward to offer Merlin a hug, which he accepts with no resistance as a small smile graces his face.

Merlin speaks quietly, but everyone can hear him:

"It's good to see you Gaius. I've missed you. When this is all sorted I've got so many things to tell you, to show you."

Gaius pulls back and grins even wider,

"All in time, dear boy. You're looking very well. I'm glad you've finally revealed yourself as the Lord Emrys."

Merlin blushes slightly at that and looks down:

"I haven't gone by the name Merlin in almost three years Gaius, Camelot has been the only place to not know me."

Merlin steps back, and glances quickly at the others, before settling his gaze on Arthur, who is looking a little like an animal caught in a trap. Merlin's eyes harden once again, and he schools his face back into disinterest and boredom:

"As I was about to say before, My King, I didn't get a chance to explain myself to you before I awoke, shackled and blinded and cold, with a rather nasty head wound, in the middle of a forest. And quite frankly, after that, I wasn't prepared to stumble my way back to Camelot and try for a second time. Though perhaps I should be grateful you simply knocked me out and dumped me, as opposed to burning me?"

Arthur looks to be in physical pain, but doesn't look away from Merlin, not even as the others gasp and mutter and stare and glare at him.

"Shackled? You.... I knew you were lying you monster. How could you?!" From Morgana is the first thing loud enough to be heard.

It's Gwaine who speaks next, but Arthur still doesn't look away from Merlin:

"You bastard. What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He goes to draw his sword and step towards the King, but Elyan holds him back:

"No, Gwaine. It isn't our place. This is Merlin's fight, and he knows we all stand with him."

At that, Merlin finally looks away, an ever so slight smile escapes as Elyan nods to him, and becomes the first of the group to move to stand behind Merlin, facing the king. The others follow shortly after.

They stand in a group just behind him, the fury rolling off them in waves.

Morgana steps forward and takes one of Merlin's hands in her own. Staring Arthur down, she speaks, her eyes flash gold as a sharp wind whips through the throne room. No windows or doors have been left open:

"Would you have done the same to me, brother-mine? Would you have beaten me and shackled me and left me in a forest to rot?"

Arthur steps back in complete shock, the group behind her and Merlin are also shocked, but take it in their stride.

Merlin squeezes her hand in a silent "I'm sorry, I'm with you, I'll teach you, you're safe."

Arthur doesn't really have the words at this point. He's speechless and in shock and almost crying.

He had always known that his first meeting with Merlin would be difficult, but he wasn't expecting everyone who had ever been important to him to be there as well, stood opposite him, hating him.

The wind dies down as Gwen places a hand on the other woman's shoulder from behind. Merlin looks towards Morgana first, and offers a comforting smile to her teary face, before looking behind him to the others.

"As much as I appreciate the support, and as much as I love, and have missed you all, I think me and the King need to have a private meeting on the matter. Personal problems aside, I need to see to the continued safety of my people."

It’s quiet, reserved Percival, who speaks up:

"Like hell are we leaving you with him now we know what he did." The others nod at this, but Merlin replies gently:

"I'll be fine, I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. Go, I'll find you later."

At this, he turns once more to Morgana:

"There is a group of Druids camped just beyond the city walls, go to them, take Gaius. They will help you until this is all resolved, and then I can teach you myself." he says with a smile, and at her nod, he glances at Gaius, who steps forward and leads Morgana out the room, closely followed by a hesitating gaggle of knights.

Gwen is the only one who remains, as she takes Merlin’s hand briefly in Morgana’s place, and snarls at Arthur:

"Monster."

-before following the others out of the room, and shutting the door behind her, leaving the throne room once again empty of people, bar the Forever King and the Immortal One.

Merlin speaks first, looking back to Arthur, unwavering and determined:

"How do I know this is all real? The change in laws?"

"I... what? What do you mean real? Of course it's real. Merlin please, can we just-"

Merlin turns away as he interrupts him, and walks back towards the window, to look upon the courtyard, where countless innocents had been slaughtered:

"Pretending to change the laws so you can lure my people to your city, before starting another purge, sounds like exactly something Uther's son would do. I will not put my people in danger by encouraging them to come here, before I can be sure they are truly safe from the Pendragon line."

Arthur's heart breaks even more. He really had damaged the relationship between himself and Merlin more than he ever could've imagined. Merlin had seemed to make it his life goal to assure Arthur that he wasn't his father, that he could follow his own path and create his own legacy. Before Arthur had ruined everything.

"I would never. The law is changed. Sorcer- your people, are safe. Merlin will you please-"

Merlin turns and interrupts again, looking Arthur directly in the eyes, obviously not prepared to let the conversation turn personal.

"Promises made to beings of magic are... powerful. There is magic in words, swear to me that my people are safe from persecution, and I will believe it."

"I...yes. I swear it. People with magic will no longer be unfairly persecuted in this kingdom as long as I am king, I swear it, in the name of Camelot."

Merlin’s eyes flash gold, and Arthur feels as though the words he's just spoken have been branded onto his soul. In a way, they have.

Merlin looks once more out of the window, and replies quietly, but darkly:

"I will hold you to that, Arthur Pendragon."

THE END!

This two-parter has been finished!!

As per usual, I only write drafts, so if someone wants to write this up all proper, then go for it, credit and tag me✌

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koulakoukoula2003 · 4 years ago

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Terror (Levi x Reader)

Pairing: Levi x Reader, Levi x You, Levi x OC

Genre: loooots of fluff, and looooots of angst. Like SOOO MUCH ✨ ANGST✨, mention of violence.

Summary: You gave it your best. You fought with everything you had, but you were alone. You had to watch the Mike Squad whilst the titans tore them apart and you were the only one left to protect the scared recruits of the 104th that were cornered in Utgard Castle.

But from the moment word went out that titans had breached Wall Rose, Levi mounted his horse and set out to find you. He could not lose you. You were the only one that he had left. He found you wounded and against all odds, he rushes you back to a hospital in Trost. He can't lose you. He won't allow it.

POV: 3rd Person's POV (cuz 2nd Person is killing me y'all, sorry 😩)

Enjoyyyy!! 🥰

His horse was going fast. One hand was tight around her, pressing her body protectively against his own, and the other hand was holding the reins of his horse. Both of Levi’s hands were still holding his swords. He had already wiped out a couple of titans on his way back to Trost, but he didn’t let those bastards take any more than a few seconds of his time. (Y/n)’s time.

Her back was pressed against his chest. Her head had rolled back tiredly against his shoulder. He had wrapped his green cloak around her that should be enough to keep her warm. He did not mind the violent wind as it crushed against his body while riding fast on horseback. She needed it more than him.

Her eyes were closed. He had tried his best not to let her fall asleep. If she’d lose consciousness, then she wasn’t going to come back. How could he let this happen? Watching her wounded like that felt like a dagger stabbing mercilessly through his flesh. Her eyelids were barely open. Her hands were shaking and her breathing, heavy. It was getting slower and slower by the time. She was mumbling incomprehensible words as if she was having hallucinations. She was warm. She was probably having a fever.

“Don’t die on me,” Levi growled in her ear. “You will not die on me, (y/n),” His hand tightened around her, and in the end, he realised, he was just trying to convince himself that he wasn’t going to lose her.

He couldn’t lose her. Not like he had lost all the others. People in his life would just keep dying and leaving him alone in his misery. But he found that he was never alone and miserable because she was there. (Y/n) had always been there and she had never left. It was funny to think of how many times those past years he had tried to get rid of her, just to give it his all now to keep her with him. He could not imagine life without her.

Not without those hugs that she’d give him whenever he’d need them the most -and he never even had to ask. She just knew. Not without those terrible jokes of hers -that no one would laugh at but her and Hange- and those sassy remarks that always aimed to get on his nerves. Most times he’d only act annoyed just to give her what she wanted. And even those times that he’d pass out by his office from the exhaustion and the pressure, he’d wake up the other day covered in a blanket that she had undoubtedly brought for him.

All those years she had been there. He couldn’t lose her now. If he lost her, he’d never be able to tell her… He’d never be able to hold her in the nights. Nor listen to her stupid jokes, and her sweet laughter, and look upon that reassuring, comforting smile that she’d give him whenever he’d cup her face. He couldn’t even begin to think of what she had gone through that entire night. How many people she had watched die, and in how much pain she must have been right now.

She would be having nightmares for tonight, and for all the nights to come, but he’d hold her. He’d hold her every single night if it meant he’d be able to make her feel better. But please…

Levi buried his face briefly at the back of her shoulder and breathed her in. “Don’t leave me, (y/n)… not you,”

Time Skip

He reached the hospital by dusk. She was still breathing when the doctors took her in and vanished behind the closed doors of a room. Levi was left alone in that hospital’s empty halls of utter despair. He just sat down on a chair outside the room they had taken her in and he waited. He didn’t even know how many hours he waited, he only knew it was late in the night and only a few candles and oil lamps were bringing light in the building. Most people had left, and the hospital was almost empty. He didn’t care though. He only glanced at the closed door of her room for the hundredth time, and he knew that any moment the doctor would walk out and either tell him that she was dead, or that she had miraculously survived.

He didn’t know which one was most likely to happen. Levi pressed his elbows on the top of his knees and he stared blankly down on the white marbled floor. There was a tight knot in his stomach that he always got when either (y/n) or any other of his comrades were in danger. All the previous times, he could always deal with it, but this time, it was unbearable.

Levi’s fingers fisted painfully in his hair. Eyes wide as he could think of nothing but the worst outcome. Those hours must have been the longest of his life. He could not remember himself being so scared of anything else in his life. He had left his ODM outside with his horse, along with his jacket and his ascot that had started to feel too tight around his neck. He had rolled up his sleeves at the height of his elbows, and a few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned.

Levi sighed heavily once more. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. He never thought something could scare him that much. He could take down the wildest, most abnormal titans that humanity would ever face. He could kill in cold blood the biggest scums of the Undercity. He could fight anything, and nothing would scare him enough to catch his breath halfway his throat.

Even the morning before the latest Expedition, when he jumped off his unceremoniously interrupted sleep, on that treacherous gut feeling that his comrades were all going to die. And that feeling was correct. And then, facing their families to bring the news was twice as scary as watching their bodies being buried. But she was there. (Y/n) was beside him through all of these and he had a reason to remain strong. He had a reason to keep that frozen mask on his face of the cruel, unforgiving man that everyone made him out to be. He had a reason to remain strong, and that reason was her. It had always been.

If he lost her, what would be his reason to go on in this life? If he lost her, who was going to be with him through all those terrors, and all those nightmares, and all that pressure? Who? He had no one he could hug and they would hug him back. It had always been her.

What the hell am I going to do if she’s-?

“Captain Levi,”

The doctor’s voice cut that endless chain of thoughts that tormented his mind. Levi stood up right away and approached the man in white. He remembered his heart insanely hammering beneath his chest until he could hear it as loud as the doctor’s voice.

“Lieutenant (Y/n) lost too much blood but we managed to stop the bleeding. We administered her enough blood from a donor. She should be okay after she fights off the Hypovolemic Shock,”

“And if she doesn’t?!” Levi asked worriedly.

“She will. It may take a while, but she will,” The doctor gave him a reassuring smile. “You may see her, Captain. I’ll be here the entire night, so if you need anything, just let me know,”

“Thank you, doc,”

The doctor gave him a nod before he walked away and Levi didn’t waste a moment further. He rushed in her room, closing the door behind. It wasn’t entirely dark. The moonlight came bright from the window, and an oil lamp was resting beside her bed on a small wooden table.

She looked pale. Paler than the dead. She didn’t have that lively colour on her skin that she usually had, nor that rosy flush that was almost permanently engulfing her cheeks. Her lips were no longer that gorgeous pink, they were almost a light blue. Levi sat by a chair that rested beside the bed and his hand reached for her own. He was startled of how cold her hand was. Her hands were usually never cold, but this time, it was as if he was holding a block of ice.

It hurt him so much watching her like that. He couldn’t even begin to think of how much she had fought or how much blood she had lost. Mike and his squad were dead. He could only imagine what she had seen. She was going to break down after she’d gain back her senses.

He trapped her hand between both his own. She hissed and it made his eyes widen for a moment on the thought of hurting her somehow. “Cold,” she mumbled before her body shook and her face twisted into a tormented expression. Her fingers tightened around his own before they loosened again. Her expression changed back into a peaceful one and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

Levi for once had no idea what to do. She was already beneath three blankets that didn’t seem to be helping somehow. He sighed heavily and he wished he could take his eyes off of her but he couldn’t. He laced their fingers together and tried to warm up her hand at least. It was his fault she was in that situation. He had promised to protect her no matter what, and now she had barely made it out of death’s way.

He had failed to keep her safe. Miserably. But how could anybody know that titans would show up out of nowhere in Wall Rose? It was clear that the walls weren’t safe anymore.

There was no place that was safe in this world. There was no place where she would be and be protected. The same was for everyone else, but he did not care about everyone else. He only cared about her. He only cared about her because he had allowed himself to fall so deeply, and so irrevocably, that there was no going back. There was no going back to normal. It had never been normal actually. He was always falling. Slow, and deliberate. He was only realising it now.

He didn’t know if she’d return that feeling, and it was alright. If she wouldn’t, then he was going to back away. But he’d let her know. He had to tell her because he knew he might not ever get that chance again.

Levi for once did what he wanted to do. A fourth blanket wasn’t going to do much. He pushed off his boots. He slipped beneath the bedsheets and settled her limp body on top of his own. Her back pressed against his chest, and her head rolled back on his shoulder. His hands slipped around her waist, gathering her own hands in his and pressing her body against his own. She was cold, but those small tremors that her pale lips made, finally slowed down.

Levi pressed a kiss on her temple and his hands tightened around her, spotting that tight bandage around her stomach. “Stay with me, (y/n),” he whispered softly in her ear. His breath brushed warm down her cheekbone. “Don’t ever leave me… I-” he had no idea what it was that cut him. He didn’t know why saying those three, simple words could be so difficult. He was afraid that she’d hear him. He gritted his teeth. It was so useless to keep resisting. “I love you,” He had never before been so honest with himself. He would always keep lying to himself about being strong, and untouchable, and cold, and ruthless. But that was one thing that he was absolutely certain about. He loved her.

But, what a coward am I? Only getting to tell her when she was unconscious and hoping she’d never hear him. No. He was going to say it tomorrow again when she'd wake up. Now, he was actually hoping she’d hear him. He was hoping that by telling her that, she wouldn’t give up on that fight for her life.

Levi buried his face in her hair, and he breathed her in. His arms were tight but careful around her. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax. The doctor said she was going to be okay. He only had to wait and be with her. He wasn’t going to leave her side. Not ever.

A/N: Hello, lovelies!!!!🥰 You can read Part 2 here!!! Feel free to reblog and comment beneath to lemme know what you think! Thanks for reading!!! (This is also a chapter from my Levi x OC LongFic on ao3)

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman #leviackerman #snk #aot #angst #fluff #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x oc

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yelena-bellova · 3 years ago

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Don't Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty One: Hide and Secrets

Plot: Reeling from the loss of Chewbacca, the group travels to Kijimi in hopes of retrieving a vital piece of information...

Series Masterlist

Warnings: graphic description of violence/injuries, violent intrusive thoughts, blood, language, choking, we're not here to have a good time people so lots of angst today,

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: Even though the rest of the series is going to be brutal, this is the last episode where there's even a little bit of a breather. Related to that, we're so close to the end and I'm not sure how to process that 🥺 Hope you enjoy!!

----

When I finally dried my tears and went about summoning the same strength I had when losing Dad and my uncle, I exited the refresher. Finn and Rey stood in the main hold, Rey jumped to her feet, rubbing her typically sweaty palms against her pants.

“Y/n,” she quickly said, “I know that it will never be enough, but I-“ “Rey,” I held up two hands as I stopped in front of my distraught friend, “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know you could do that, right?” She rapidly shook her head, “No, I had no idea.” “Then,” I sadly shrugged my shoulders, “I can’t be mad at you, you’d have never meant to hurt Chewie.” The tears in her eyes still welled regardless of my forgiveness. “I really am sorry,” she whispered, her throat catching with sorrow.

I pulled her into my arms and the two of us embraced, sharing in what little comfort could be taken in the moment. The unsettling feeling of secrecy was what caused me to pull back, my hands still rested on Rey’s shoulders as I scanned her face.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” I stated, watching as her eyes became fearful before turning my gaze to Finn, “The same goes for you. What's going on?” Rey’s mouth opened and closed a couple times, whether a truth or a lie had been building on her lips was a loss to find out as Poe marched out of the cockpit. “We’ve only got eight hours left, so what are we gonna do?”

“This isn’t over,” I whispered to Rey, dropping my hands and turning to the group. “What can we do?” Finn said hopelessly, “We gotta get back to base.”

“We don’t have time to go back,” Poe argued, “We are not giving up. If we do that, Chewie died for nothing.” “Poe, Chewie had the dagger,” Finn replied.

I spoke up, “Yeah, but there has to be some other way.”

“Well, there isn’t,” Finn responded, “That was the only clue to the wayfinder thing and it’s gone.” I frustratedly rubbed my hands over my face and left them there, our problems were no easier to face in the self-inflicted darkness.

“So true,” 3PO said from the corner he stood in, “The inscription lives only in my memory now.”

I spread two of my fingers for my eyes to peek out, “Come again?" “The inscription of the dagger is stored in my memory banks,” he answered, “But the translation from a forbidden language cannot be retrieved. That is short of a complete redacted memory bypass.”

“A complete what?” Finn asked.

“It’s a terribly dangerous and sinful act performed on unwitting droids by dregs and criminals,” 3PO replied, turning away as if the whole idea was entirely out of the question.

Finn’s head whipped to Poe and I, “Let’s do that!” Determined as ever, Poe’s eyes sparked that familiar flame once again. “I know a black market droidsmith.” “Black market droidsmith?” 3PO echoed incredulously.

“But he’s on Kijimi,” Poe said, throwing his head back defeatedly. “What’s wrong with Kijimi?” I asked.

“I had a little bad luck on Kijimi,” Poe made every effort to not look any of us in the eye, “But if this mission fails, it’s all been for nothing. All we’ve done, all this time…” he finally looked up at me, nudging my arm with one of his gloved fingers, “3PO’s your and Leia’s droid, you’re the only one here that can give permission to do this.” I sighed and looked over at the droid I was so used to disappointing throughout my life. “We can’t quit now,” I said, “For Chewie.” Finn rose from his seat and nodded confidently before taking my hand, “For Chewie.”

Rey, who still looked every bit as guilty as she thought she should be, stood next and took Finn’s outstretched hand. “For Chewie.”

Poe looked down at my empty hand and back up at me, I held it out for him signaling that we weren’t currently at the odds we had been the last time we’d spoken. The warmth of his palm radiated through his leather glove and he ever so slightly squeezed, the only comfort he could provide me with in such a desperate hour. I’d take whatever I could get.

3PO shuffled over to us, taking Poe’s other hand in his in silent agreement with my decision. At the gesture, Poe visibly became uncomfortable, the list of people he was okay with being openly affectionate with began and ended with me. “Kijimi!” he announced, letting go off both our hands and heading back for the cockpit.

I wasn’t far behind, assuming the role of copilot as I sat down next to him. “You’ve never mentioned Kijimi, not even once,” I said, awaiting his answer that wasn’t going to come, “What are you hiding from me, Dameron?”

My question was enough to drag his eyes away from the controls to meet mine, a look I couldn’t decipher in them. He wasn’t fearful, he wasn’t angry, but he certainly didn’t appreciate me bringing up whatever misfortune he’d run into on Kijimi. “Thrusters a go?” he asked, ignoring my curiosity.

As I mumbled my confirmation, I settled into my chair at great unease knowing that I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets from my friends. We all were.

——

Kijimi was cold and unforgiving, much like the stormtroopers that roamed the planet’s streets.

The First Order was banging on every door and questioning every life form they could. All of us, save Poe, were hidden on one side of a building, waiting for my boyfriend to return from scouting out the territory for a safe path to wherever it was we were going. His jacketed figure finally made its way back to our group, I could see his frown even with the terrible lighting. “They’re everywhere,” he reported, “All right, I know what we should do.” “So do I,” 3PO interrupted, “We should leave.”

I placed a hand over where the droid’s mouth would be if he were human, “Now is not the time.” “Follow me,” Poe ordered, leading us down the street towards our unknown destination. Though only unknown to us, Poe navigated the way with as much ease as he did the jungle of Ajan Kloss. He’d clearly spent a lot of his time on Kijimi. “All right,” he stopped our group against another wall, “Let’s head down this way.”

A cocked blaster pressed against his head stopped any further movement.

“Heard you were spotted at Monk’s Gate,” a modulated female voice said, “Thought, ‘He’s not stupid enough to come back here.’” “Oh, you’d be surprised,” Poe replied, his voice somehow audibly displaying both nervousness and cockiness.

The blaster I kept on my hip was off its holster and in my hand with speed that even surprised me. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but it’s in your best interest to lower the gun,” I said, my voice steely as I aimed my weapon at the gold helmet the woman wore.

“What’s going on?” Finn asked, one step behind me and ready to fight if necessary for Poe’s life. “Guys, this is Zorii,” Poe awkwardly made introductions, the barrel of the blaster still against his temple, “Zorii, this is Rey and Finn and,” he blindly gestured to me, “That’s Y/n.”

“I could pull this trigger right now,” Zorii threatened. “I’ve seen you do worse,” Poe replied quickly. “For a lot less…” “Can we just…” in a bold move, Poe turned and removed his hood, sporting the smallest smirk as he cautiously eyed the woman, “Talk about this?” “I wanna see your brains in the snow…” Zorii answered, not taking kindly to his diplomacy.

“You make one move and I’ll give everybody a display of just that,” I growled, ignoring both the Jedi way and my wondering just how well Poe knew this woman, there was an ease between their back and forth that stirred an almost jealous feeling in me…

“So you’re still mad?” Poe asked, “Zorii, we could use your help. We gotta crack this droid’s head open and fast.” An indignant 3PO spoke up, “Pardon me!” Poe ignored him, “We’re trying to find Babu Frik.” “Babu? Babu only works for the crew,” Zorii answered, seemingly unthreatened by my steady hand and pointed blaster, “That’s not you anymore.”

“What crew?” Rey asked.

My eyes flicked to Poe, watching him shake his head rapidly before silently admitting defeat to the truth Zorii couldn’t be stopped from sharing. “Funny, he never mentioned it…your friend’s old job was running spice.”

“You were a spice runner?” Finn asked, almost as surprised as I was.

Poe was quick to deflect the unflattering light that was being shed on him, “You were a stormtrooper?” “Were you a spice runner?” Rey echoed the question.

“Were you a scavenger? We could do this all night.” “You don’t have all night,” Zorii said as she began to stalk around us, her blaster still trained on Poe, “You know I’m still digging out of the hole you put me in when you left to join the Resistance,” her head tilted in Rey’s direction before looking back at me, “You two. You’re the ones they’re looking for. Bounty for them might just cover us.” I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know that the two bodies that had followed Zorii were slowly making their way towards us, I met Rey’s eyes quickly and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

“Djak’kankah!” Zorii shouted. “Don’t djak’kankah,” Poe hurried from beside me.

In synch, Rey pulled her staff out from behind her back and I tossed my blaster to Finn to unsheathe my lightsaber. Rey knocked Zorii to the ground while I made work of fatally damaging Zorii’s comrade’s weapons. Within seconds, they’d all been taken care of and I turned to see Rey had her saber pointed at Zorii’s body with the latter aiming their gun at my fellow padawan.

“We could really use your help,” Rey said, nicer than I could have ever been in such a situation, “Please.” “Not that you care,” Zorii said, her chest heaving from the fight as she looked between the both of us, “But I think you’re alright.” “I care,” Rey replied, deactivating her blade and extending a hand to Zorii.

“Quit threatening him” I said, nodding towards a slightly stunned Poe, “And we won’t have a problem.” Zorii, in fact, proved to be anything but a problem. She led us down a back way to a trader’s den, confidently marching in as if she owned the place. For all I knew, maybe she did. I didn’t know the woman or how she knew my boyfriend, whom it seemed I also didn’t know. Poe had kept an entire chunk of his life hidden from me all the years that I’d known him and something about that hurt. However, with 3PO hooked up to a multitude of wires, I was trying my best to focus on the matters at hand. “I haven’t the faintest idea why I agree to this,” the droid said from his seated position, “I must be malfunctioning,” Babu Frik, the little alien that Poe had known once upon a time worked on one of 3PO’s wires, causing him to repeat himself, “I must be malfunctioning.”

“You agreed to this because it’s our only option,” I said from my spot next to him, “You do this and you’re a hero to the galaxy.” “Babu Frik?” Rey asked the small droid mechanic, “Can you help us with this?’ He gave an answer in a language none of us could understand, causing Rey to look elsewhere for a translation. “Zorii? Is this gonna work?” Zorii moved from her position on the steps with Poe, the two of them having warmed up to each other a little too fast for my liking. She posed a question in Babu Frik’s tongue, the creature answering back in his naturally slow manner. “He says he’s found something in your droid’s forbidden memory bank. Words translated from Sith.” “That’s it!” I exclaimed, patting 3PO’s metal shoulder. “Yeah, that’s what we need,” Finn echoed my excitement from behind Rey and I.

“Who are you hanging out with that speaks Sith?” Zorii questioned Poe, who was making his way down to stairs to come into the same space. “Babu, can you make him translate it?” he asked.

Babu answered.

“Yes,” Zorii translated, “But it will cause a complete-“ “A complete memory wipe,” 3PO finished.

My eyes widened, “A what?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Poe held up a hand, “We make him translate it, he won’t remember…anything?”

“Droid memory go blank,” Babu answered, speaking enough of our language to confirm Poe’s question, “Blank, blank.” “There must be another way!” 3PO exclaimed, I was still too in shock to form words. “Doesn’t R2 back up your memory?” Finn asked.

“Oh, please, R2’s storage units are famously unreliable.”

“No,” I finally found my voice and announced it to the room, “I’m calling it. We’re not doing this, I’m sorry, but we’re gonna have to find another way.” “Y/n…” Poe started, carefully tiptoeing around the impending explosion of emotions I was about to have. “Nope, not happening,” I continued, “I’m not losing anyone else. Babu, thank you for your time, start putting him back together.” Rey gently grasped my arm, “Y/n…” 3PO, for all his shortcomings, was one of the steadiest presences in my life. He hadn’t been just a faithful servant to me and my family, he’d been my most dependable friend. There had been too many losses in the Resistance in the past year and fresh off of Chewie’s death, I wasn’t prepared to let another piece of my family go.

And if the very fate of the galaxy didn’t depend on getting the damned inscription, I’d have allowed myself to be selfish.

Slowly turning away from Rey, I came to stand in front of where 3PO sat hooked up to Babu’s machines. “Do we have a choice in this?” I asked softly, my mouth suddenly feeling unreasonably dry.

The droid processed for a moment before rising from his seat and taking a few steps away from us. “If this mission fails, it was all for nothing. All we’ve done, all this time…” 3PO turned and faced our group, staring silently at us all.

“What are you doing there, 3PO?” Poe asked.

“Taking one last look, sir,” he answered, “At my friends.”

I shut my eyes, my wet lashes dropping a tear or two down my cheeks as the sentiment hit me. “Go ahead,” I whispered, giving Babu the authority to do what needed to be done.

Noise from outside broke the moment. “Night raids are gonna start soon,” Zorii stated, “I’ll keep lookout.”

“I’m coming with you,” Poe said, chasing after her departing figure in a surprising turn of events. I dragged my tearful eyes away from my soon to be amnesic droid to my boyfriend who wasn’t sparing any glances my way.

“You still don’t trust me?” Zorii asked.

“Did you ever trust me?” my boyfriend fired back as they climbed the staircase together.

“Nope.” My eyes remained trained on the last spot where Poe had been visible to me before he disappeared with the mystery woman. It didn’t matter, the hurt and anger I felt with Poe for leaving me as I readied myself to say goodbye to 3PO wouldn’t change with knowing their history together. But damn it all if I didn’t want to slap Poe a little for not choosing to stay with me rather than go with Zorii. I could feel Rey and Finn’s concerned eyes through the back of my head, I didn’t have to turn around to showcase my jealousy.

“It’s fine,” I lied, clenching my fists at my sides, “He can do whatever the hell he wants, we’ve got bigger concerns.” I walked back over to where 3PO was once again seated, Babu already preparing him for the procedure. “Thanks for…” I wrapped two arms around the gold droid’s neck, “Everything.”

One metal arm patted my back awkwardly, hugs weren’t exactly something we typically exchanged. “You are most welcome, Mistress Y/n. Your companionship had brought me a great many joys throughout our years together.” There was nothing more to be said, or rather there was so much more and not enough time to say it. I backed away to let Babu do his work and stepped to the side, occupying the space next to Finn and keeping a watchful eye as the creature began to operate on my droid. Bee and D-O, the abandoned droid Bee had discovered and activated on the ship, watched from the opposite side of the room as well. Minutes went by without a word, the only sound in the room was Babu’s tools picking and prodding at the inside of 3PO’s head.

“Oh, I just had an idea,” 3PO eventually said, “There’s something else we could try-“ We’d never know what he’d been thinking as Babu hit the correct circuit and 3PO lost power. Finn reached a hand around my back to land on my shoulder as I flinched, the sight of him switched off not by his own accord a little hard on me. Rey took the time to excuse herself and push past us, going to check on Bee and D-O.

“You don’t have to watch, y’know…” Finn said, “If it’s too much…” “No,” I shook my head, my eyes still on the droid whose loyalty I could only hope to match, “I’m staying with him.” There was a pregnant pause between the two of us before Finn took a breath, “Can I ask you a question?” “I’ll answer yours if you answer mine…” I replied.

“What’s going on with you and Poe?” I sighed and crossed my arms, taking a defensive position as if I could shield myself from the reality of the topic. “Nothing good…” I answered, “Things have been rough lately.” Taking his time to handle the weight of my answer, he couldn’t stop himself from asking a followup. “You guys are gonna be okay though, right?”

Emotions had run high all day, the moment we were in was no exception. I’d liked to have blamed the tears that stung my eyes on saying goodbye to 3PO, but I couldn’t lie to myself. Poe and I were drifting apart and that struck a deeper fear in me than I’d ever known.

I cleared my throat, the thought of admitting my feelings out loud wasn’t one I was ready to handle. “Sorry, no follow ups. My turn…What’s your secret?” I’d hit the target just as I’d intended to, though I still wasn’t sure what I was searching for. Whatever it was, I could sense that Finn was desperate to tell somebody. “I can’t…I can’t tell you here,” he finally relented from secrecy in its entirety, “Later.”

Nodding in response, I watched him leave to go find where Rey and the droids had wandered off to. I stayed silent as I watched Babu try to access whatever apart of 3PO’s circuits the inscription lay in. I decided that once we returned to our ship, I’d try to get word to Mom and give her an update. She was undoubtably worried by now and she didn’t need to wonder any longer than necessary.

The hatch at the top of the staircase opened to reveal Zorii and Poe. “There’s an incoming destroyer,” Zorii announced.

“We gotta go now, did we get it?” Poe asked.

“Wouldn’t have to ask if you’d have stayed,” I mumbled to myself, just loud enough that he could possibly hear it. “Babu?” “Yep, droid is ready!” Babu answered back, making one final adjustment to 3PO to make the droid’s eyes turn red and his torso to sit straight up. I jumped back at the unsettling sight.

“The Emperor’s wayfinder is in the Imperial vault,” a voice that definitely didn’t belong to the beloved droid informed us, “At delta 3-6, transient 9-3-6, variant 3-2 on a moon in the Endor system. From the southern shore. Only this blade tells. Only this blade tells.” With an exclaim, Babu shut 3PO off again and he fell back in his chair.

“The Endor system,” Finn said, “Where the last war ended?”

An overhead rumbling that shook the ceiling of the workshop caused us all to look up, Rey was only slightly ahead of me as we made our way up the stairs fearlessly to open the hatch. The average being wouldn’t have been able to tell the ominous Star Destroyer having in the sky apart from any other, but Rey and I weren’t average. “It’s him…” I muttered.

“Ren’s Destroyer.” “He’s here?” Poe asked from below. I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming sensation, different than the empathetic pain I felt when one was injured or the unfortunate attacks I’d been suffering from lately. This was warmth and familiarity and…family.

“Rey,” I stuck a hand out and blindly reached for her, “It’s Chewie.” Sensing the same thing I was, she repeated his name hopefully.

“What about him?” Finn asked. “He’s on the ship” I answered, my voice cracking with emotion, “He’s alive.” “What? How?” Poe asked in disbelief.

“He’s alive!” Rey exclaimed, “He must’ve been on a different transport.” “We gotta go get him,” Finn stated, as if it wasn’t what we were all thinking.

I bounded down the steps with a newfound joy, something I’d thought was impossible to find in our situation. “No time to waste, let’s pack it up!” I said, moving around Zorii towards 3PO. As soon as I landed at the droid’s side, he sat up. “Might I introduce myself,” he said, “I am C-3PO, human cyborg relations,” he looked around the room at the various faces, “And you are?” “Okay, that’s gonna be a problem,” Poe commented, pointing at the droid.

“Okay,” I rubbed my eyes out of stress before placing to hands on 3PO’s arm, “I promise I will explain everything to you but right now, we don’t have the time so I’m gonna need you to trust us. Now,” I bent down and grabbed his discarded coat, “Put this on and follow us.” “Trust you? When I don’t even know who you are? I don’t see-“ “I’m your master, okay?” I hurriedly pulled the protocol droid to his feet and started shoving his arms into the jacket, “And if you want to live, you’ll listen to me when I say we need to get the hell out of here.”

Begrudgingly, the droid followed along as our group hurried out of Babu Frik’s workshop and into the snowy streets of Kijimi. I could sense Ren’s incoming presence, causing me to urge us all to move faster.

“3PO, move your metal ass!” Poe said frustratedly as we closed in on where our ship was parked, “We’re almost there.” “How dare you,” he exclaimed, “We’ve only just met!” Rey, Finn, the droids and I rushed between two buildings before I noticed that Poe and Zorii had hung behind. I stopped and watched the two share an exchange I couldn’t make out, Zorii shoved something into Poe’s hand just before I heard the sound of a ship overhead. Ren.

“We need to go!” I shouted annoyedly, when Poe made no effort to end their conversation, I rolled my eyes and shoved Rey and Finn forward, “Go, he’ll catch up.” We made our way to the ship and loaded in, I seated myself in the pilot’s chair, taking it upon myself to get us where we needed to be. Poe eventually made his way to the cockpit just as I was making the final checks.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Dameron,” I retorted as I lifted us off the ground, “I’m sure making chit chat with old flames was more important than getting our asses off this snowy wasteland.”

Poe tossed a coin shaped token into my lap without a word, I picked it up and upon inspection identified it as a First Order captain’s medallion. It was a surefire way to get us aboard the Destoryer when there’d previously been no plan. Connecting the dots that it was Zorii who had given it to him, I decided it was in everybody’s best interest if I stopped talking.

Once we made it up to the meaning ship, a First Order officer came over the comms and asked for our identification. I slipped the medallion into the slot with Poe, Finn and Rey anxiously positioned around me. We all held our breath as we awaited confirmation that we’d been granted passage. I exhaled forcefully when the message came through, “We’re clear, hanger 12.” Together, and yet entirely separate, Poe and I navigated the ship into the designated landing zone without any problems. I jumped out of my seat and threw my snow jacket off. Ren was still on Kijimi, clearly unable to sense that we were no longer there, which would buy us time. Not much, but hopefully enough to retrieve Chewie and chart a course to Endor safely.

The four of us bounded down the ramp of the ship and fired our blasters at the stormtroopers demanding our credentials plus a few that waited from a distance. “You three, stay there!” Rey ordered the droids.

“Happily!” 3PO called back. “Which way?” Poe asked Finn, the only one of us who had a decent shot at navigating the foreign ship.

“No idea,” he disappointedly answered, “Follow me!” We obeyed his command and let him lead on, we maneuvered down a great many hallways as stealthily as we could. Eventually once we heard the marching footsteps of a group of troopers, we ducked between panels that stuck out of the wall and hid till they passed. We darted out and made our way down another hall, taking cues from Finn, until we turned around to come face to face with two stormtroopers.

“Drop your weapons!” one of them ordered. While Finn and Poe immediately held out their hands for the troopers to see, Rey took a brave step forward. “It’s okay that we’re here,” she said smoothly, waving a hand in a semi circle.

A beat of silence passed before the stormtroopers lowered their weapons obediently, “It’s okay that you’re here.” “It’s good…”

“You’re relieved that we’re here,” I added, waving my hand in a matching manner.

“Thank goodness you’re here.” “Welcome, guys.” “We’re looking for a prisoner and his belongings,” Rey continued, the supposed guards giving up the information all too willingly. We wasted no time in leaving them behind and making for where they’d said Chewie’s was. Upon finding out the specific type of cell he was being held in was meant for torture, I strode with a new urgency.

“They said Chewie’s this w-“ I started, before losing all words and clutching the wall as the familiar splitting pain entered my head.

The flames had grown closer.

The screams echoed louder.

A well known animalistic cry filled my ears.

With a blood red lightsaber in my hand extended, I turned to see Chewbacca’s body laid out on the ground, his chest rising and falling deathly slow, lightsaber wounds marking his hairy body.

“Don’t be afraid,” the deep voice of Ren came from behind me, “You know exactly what you’re capable of.” I bit down on my lip so hard that I could taste blood in an attempt to stifle the scream that was trying its hardest to escape my mouth. The pain couldn’t die fast enough once the attack ceased, Ren’s voice still echoing in my mind like it was a cavern. “Y/n,” Poe was quick to steady me as my legs went out from underneath me, “Are you okay? What the hell was that?” Another secret was what it was. I’d managed to keep my hellish conscious nightmares hidden from him over the last few months. “I’m f-fine,” I panted, shrugging off his helpful hands as I rose to my feet shakily, “Finn,” I waved my blaster towards the control panel, “The doors.” He listened to me and went to work on unlocking them, I ignored Poe’s sudden concern for me and focused on Rey, who had separated herself from us. “What is it?” I asked in between heaving breaths, my heart rate sky high as the images of my dead friend still danced in my head.

“The dagger is on this ship,” she said, “We need it.” “Why?” Poe asked as he approached her, I stayed leaned up against the wall. “A feeling,” Rey answered, “I’ll meet you back at the hanger.” “I’m coming with you,” I stated, pushing off the wall in a sad attempt to follow after her.

“Y/n, you can barely walk, you need to get back to the ship,” Poe said, catching my forearm in his hand in hopes I wouldn’t slip out of his grasp. “You’re not in charge of me, Poe,” I bit back at him a little harsher than called for as I pulled my arm out of his grip and started off in Rey’s direction, “You two go and get Chewie.” Poe frustratedly sighed, “Look, I’m just trying to help you.” “Yeah, well,” I turned and locked eyes with him, “Don’t.” Without waiting see his reaction and before I had the sense to apologize for my hurtful words, I turned away and stumbled after Rey. Eventually I caught up to her and the two of us jogged through the Destroyer. I trusted that she knew where she was going, unlike my distrust of the nightmare’s physical effects on me. It had never happened before and the worry I felt was more than justified.

Almost as soon as I regained the ability to run and feel like my legs weren’t going to fail me, the air I breathed was sucked out of my lungs and I let out a stifled cry. Someone nearby had gotten injured. “Was it one of them?” Rey asked, concern overwhelming her tone. “It must’ve been,” I replied, bracing my hands against my knees and inhaling deeply, “But they’re okay. C’mon, we gotta go.” “They’re getting worse,” she said, broaching the topic I wanted so desperately to avoid, “Your attacks.”

“We’re not talking about this right now,” I snapped, my patience slipping away quicker than I could control, “I’m fine, now let’s go.”

We made the rest of the journey in silence, if my head wasn’t in such a fog I would have felt sorry for how I’d reacted to the care Rey and Poe had tried to show me. My logic felt buried beneath my fear, my guilt over a crime I hadn’t actually committed clouding my mind. It had been so vivid, Chewie laid out on the ground with a lightsaber hole burning through his sternum. My reasoning for leaving Finn and Poe to rescue the Wookiee had been twofold, not only would Rey need my help if she’d sensed something, but I didn’t want to go near Chewie at the moment.

Rey and I stepped through a door to a pure white room, a stark contrast to the dark color scheme of the rest of the ship. Descending the steps, I scanned the room for Chewie’s belongings but found something I’d never expected to lay eyes on. Rey saw it too, both of us taking slow and curious steps towards it.

The charred remnants of Darth Vader’s helmet.

I could feel the darkness, the pain associated with the armor and was lost as to how it could possibly have survived. How could it have ended up here? Anakin’s body, as my mother had told me once, had been burned on Endor at the end of the war by Luke. It was impossible, but our lives were made up of impossible so perhaps it wasn’t so imperceivable.

Turning away from the helmet, Rey and I spotted Chewie’s bandoleer, his bowcaster and the dagger. Rey grabbed the dagger while I took the other items and slung them over my shoulder, my friend stared down at the dagger and it didn’t take Jedi skills to sense her confusion, her fear. “What is it?” I asked quietly, not wanting to startle her out of whatever daze she was in. Regardless of my efforts, she jumped with a gasp and whipped around to face the empty expanse of the room. “Rey?”

Her brown eyes were locked onto something that wasn’t there, at least not to me. “You’re hard to get rid of…” she said, her voice low.

“Excuse me?” I furrowed my brow, confused as she turned back to the task at hand of gathering Chewie’s objects, “What-“

She stayed silent except for the sound of her lightsaber activating, she faced the room once again with anger painted across her features. “You’re lying…” she seethed.

It didn’t take me long to figure out what was transpiring before me, it was the force bond Rey had told me so much about. We had researched it, pouring over the Jedi texts for any possible answer as to why her and Ren were seemingly tied to one another. We’d been unsuccessful so far and Rey had been forced to experience unexpected connections with him. It was surreal to watch it take place, some conversation taking place in a realm I couldn’t enter with the person I’d been trying to reach for months.

“I don’t want this,” Rey said through her tears before letting out a cry and wielding the saber in a battle with the air. She froze as if her weapon had hit something, possibly Ren’s blade. I wanted nothing more than to jump into the fight and aid her as she broke away from her opponent. “Stop talking,” she demanded before continuing the fight. My hands were metaphorically tied behind my back and all I could do was stand there and wait for the moment to end.

My gut twisted as I got the distinct feeling that something was wrong on the other side of the ship, Finn and Poe were in danger. I couldn’t be in both places at once helping everybody and that killed me. If Rey and Ren’s connection didn’t break soon, I’d have to make the call to run like hell through the ship and find the others.

“Rey, we need to go,” I called, loud enough to hopefully break through her concentration.

“No!” she yelled, once again not directed at me. She expertly swung her lightsaber around, accidentally driving it into the pedestal and shattering the stand that displayed Vader’s helmet. Unfortunately, the fight still didn’t come to its end and Rey and the metaphysical Ren continued their assault on one another until eventually, Rey stumbled backwards signaling that the connection had been broken.

I came to her side, “What did he say?”

“He’s coming,” Rey answered, not quite present as she absorbed whatever he had told her.

“Shit,” I breathed, it wouldn’t take him long to get from Kijimi to the ship, “We need to go.”

Carrying Chewie’s things, we retraced our steps back to the ship as fast as we could. Suddenly faced with the reality of being in Ren’s presence, I wasn’t sure how I felt. All I knew for certain was we needed to find Poe and Finn immediately and leave before I discovered my true feelings. We made it back to the hanger and found the droids surrounded by troopers interrogating them. I aimed Chewie’s bowcaster at them and took out two while Rey disposed of the rest with her own blaster.

“Oh dear, my first laser battle,” 3PO commented, astonished. Had we not been in such a rush, I made have spared a second to laugh.

“Where are the others?” Rey urgently asked.

“They haven’t come back,” he answered.

“You two stay here,” I pointed towards the spacecraft as I began to step away from them, “I’m gonna go find them.” It was wasted effort, the familiar sound of Ren’s TIE Interceptor came roaring into the hanger. I froze in my spot the short distance away from Rey and the droids, knowing that where I needed to be had been decided for me.

“Find them,” Rey said to 3PO.

He scurried over to me and I placed the bowcaster and Chewie’s bandoleer in the his care, sending him on his way to retrieve Finn and Poe with D-O and Bee at his feet. I turned my attention to the figure emerging from the Interceptor, Rey stood directly across from him while I split the difference between them. My better judgement told me not to extend my lightsaber, that it wasn’t going to be that kind of fight. I needed to wait for the right moment. Even as the battalion of stormtroopers descended into the hanger, I kept my weapon holstered. I was apprehended by two of them, the long-standing fight for my capture finally over. As they pulled me back and handcuffed my wrists, I held eye contact with Ren, or at least where his eyes lay underneath his helmet. This was the closest we’d been the one another since our fight on Crait. The sick familiarity of him was anything but comforting, and yet there was a part of me that needed to hear him speak. He’d gone dark on me for too long and I needed to know what was going on in his head.

He shifted his focus to Rey, the two of them circling one another in some sort of silent showdown. Finally, they stopped, Rey closest to the edge of the hanger where with one miscalculated step, she could meet an unfortunate end. “Why did the Emperor come for me?” she asked, succeeding in confusing me, “Why did he want to kill a child? Tell me.” “Because he saw what you would become,” Ren answered, “You don’t just have power. You have his power. You’re his granddaughter. You are a Palpatine.”

It seemed like to world stopped for a minute, everything we were fighting for and against was swept away with the wind like stray grains of sand on Tatooine. Shock wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what I was feeling, my chest constricting and my mind spinning. It couldn’t be true.

“My mother was the daughter of Vader,” Ren began.

I couldn’t stand to listen to him soil the legacy of the woman I loved most in the galaxy, “You don’t breathe a word about-“ My rage was slayed as soon as it had been born as a nearby Stormtrooper drove the butt of his blaster into my abdomen, causing me to cough and choke as oxygen was forcefully knocked from my body. I groaned at the spreading pain, clenching my eyes shut while trying to still listen to the conversation happening in front of me.

“Your father was the son of the Emperor,” Ren continued his speech, “What Palpatine doesn’t know is we’re a dyad in the Force, Rey. Two that are one. We’ll kill him together and take the throne.”

“Rey,” I breathed, fighting through the throbbing pain in my abdomen, “He’s lying, don’t listen to him.” Ren blindly reached an open hand behind him and closed off my airways, choking me from afar and effectively shutting me up. “You know what you need to do,” he said, turning back to Rey and ignoring the sounds of struggle I was making to construct any sort of breath I could.

Words couldn’t be formed but I mentally urged Rey, begged her not to listen to the utter shit Ren was feeding her. As my vision began to grow grainy, I heard the faint sounds of the Falcon, my beloved ship, and was convinced that death was calling me. But as I opened my bloodshot eyes and witnessed her make a grand arrival, I felt new life surge through me. The pilot, undoubtably Poe, backed up to the edge of the hanger and hit the thrusters, sending a wave of energy into the room that caused each Stormtrooper to slide across the floor. Ren dropped his hold on me and I took my first wheezy breath just as the two troopers holding me in position lost their grip on my body. I moved against the currents until I was parallel with Rey, Finn was standing on the Falcon’s ramp ready to rescue us. Rey was the first to jump, sending Ren one last look that I couldn’t understand before she leapt into the air and Finn pulled her in.

I turned to the Supreme Leader, my hands cuffed in front of me, and my will as strong as ever. He’d invaded my mind countless times since he’d reestablished our connection through the Force, for once we were going do things on my terms. “I want you to look in my head and tell me what you see,” I shouted over the noise of the ship, he was a little too eager to accept the invitation. Once he was in, I filled my brain with every image I had of my grandfather, stating with each and every thought that I was a Kenobi. I was now an even bigger threat to him and his regime. When I reopened my eyes, I took satisfaction in the surprise painted across his pale face. For once, Kylo Ren was speechless. I gave a breathless smirk before turning around and jumping off the edge of the platform, Rey assisted in pulling me in by way of the Force while Finn caught me. The three of us ran up the ramp and into the heart of the ship.

“Rey, don’t-“ I began, trying to preemptively pull my friend out of the blame she was inevitably going to place on herself because of her recently discovered lineage. It was of no use, she stormed off away from Finn and I as quick as she could to process the news privately. Finn was confused and I didn’t have the time or the right to explain the situation to him. “Bee, help get me out of these,” I called, the little droid speedily rolling down the hall at my command and following me to the cockpit. When I arrived, I found Poe and Chewie sending us to lightspeed. I should have wanted to throw my arms around the Wookiee, had I been able to, but after my nightmarish attack wherein I had been responsible for his gruesome death, I felt the need to keep my distance. I should have wanted to run to Poe, to take comfort in his embrace as I recounted what had happened while we were separated. All I felt when I looked at him currently was frustration.

“Are you okay?” I asked, even my anger couldn’t override my concern for his wellbeing.

“Fine,” he replied coldly, not bothering to look my way as he finished up with the controls of the Falcon, “You?” He was lying. I could see crimson red on his arm staining his cream colored shirt. He was the one I’d sensed got hurt. I wanted to help him in any way I could but I suspected he was being refusing my help in retaliation for me refusing his. I swallowed, ignored the pain from my already bruising abdomen and sat down to let Bee work on removing my cuffs, “Fine.” Oh, how badly I wanted to tell him that things were so very far from fine.

----

A/N: If you thought this was bad, just wait for the next chapter...(sorry not sorry 🙈) Let men now if you'd like to be tagged and as always, thanks for reading!!

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years ago

Text

Let the Dead Weep | Jimin

→ summary: jimin falls in love the only way he knows how: catastrophically. your heart ends up as collateral damage.

→ genre: royal guard!jimin, princess!reader, angst → warnings: jimin is cold-hearted but only because he’s afraid, jungkook tries his Best to pick up the pieces, heart ache city babey! → words: 5.6K → a/n: this was commissioned by the wonderful @kookiebunnii!! thanks again for giving me the freedom to write my own wips (this is admittedly Very old... so old that i almost forgot this existed in my drafts lol) i hope you like it bc this one is prime zee angst propaganda... sorry jimin but i had to do it to ya (again)

The sound of clicking heels is an unusual occurrence at the royal training grounds. Accustomed to the cacophony of grunting men and clashing swords, Prince Jungkook does not immediately notice that something (or rather, someone) is out of place.

“Your defenses are down.” Jungkook thrusts his sword forward, disarming his sparring partner in one smooth motion. Surprised, his partner yelps as his sword clatters to the ground, his now empty hands raised awkwardly in befuddlement. But his shock does not last long, as his previously occupied gaze returns to where it was, his jaw agape as he continues to stare somewhere just outside the courtyard.

When Jungkook turns his head to the source, he finally understands why he had so easily defeated his distracted opponent.

Your bright white summer dress stands out starkly against the dreary autumn scenery, your skirt bunched up to your knees to avoid tripping over yourself. It seems as though the world has gone still from shock, every man in the vicinity holding their breaths at their first glimpse of the princess from up close. Even from where he stands, Jungkook can see the sweat flowing freely from your temples as you rush towards them, your chest heaving as you dash past dozens of starstruck onlookers towards your destination.

You don’t even spare Jungkook a glance when you pass by him, your eyes trained somewhere behind him as though nothing (or rather, no one) else in the courtyard matters. “Jimin!” you call out, nearly collapsing onto the man you had been looking for as you fail to stop your momentum in time. Luckily, the head of the royal guard catches you effortlessly, his hand previously resting on the hilt of his sword jumping up to find its place on your waist to steady you.

Jungkook watches as Jimin’s gaze sweeps through the sea of heads before landing on him. The guard’s posture stiffens, jaw clenching as the two men size each other up. Eventually, Jimin drops his hand from your waist as if he’d been burned, taking an inconspicuous step back to regain some sort of respectable distance.

Jimin clears his throat, his expression as stern as ever. It only takes a single glare from him for the excited whispers to die in a second. “Well? Did I tell you to stop? Take your positions,” he growls. In an instant, the men around Jungkook rise back to action, the sound of metal hitting metal echoing loudly once more.

“Your Highness? Shall we continue?” The boy he had been sparring with speaks out hesitantly, breaking Jungkook’s trance. Jungkook blinks slowly in confusion, before remembering where he was and what he was doing. He takes one last glance at Jimin’s and your retreating forms, only managing to glimpse the trail of your skirt as Jimin quickly drags you away from prying eyes.

“Your Highness?” the boy repeats, more nervously this time. Jungkook fixes a smile on his face before turning to face him, gently patting the young boy on the shoulder with the ease and charisma only a prince could manage.

“Yes, let’s continue. On your guard,” Jungkook warns, poising his sword forward before taking the first strike.

x x x x x

Jimin drags you away to the nearby armory, causing a domino of shields to topple down in his haste to open the door. He shuts it closed, not bothering to find a light as he pulls you deeper into the large shed. Only the small window by the roof sheds any light for them to see, but it’s enough for you to see the barely concealed annoyance set in Jimin’s eyes.

“What the hell were you thinking? That was highly inappropriate for a princess,” he growls, lips downturned in a frown. He might be well-known amongst his men as a stern and unforgiving captain, but he has never been gruff with you. In any other scenario, you might have been shocked at his sudden change of face, but the news that you just heard from your father is still ringing loudly in your ears, distracting you from anything else.

“What am I thinking? I should be asking you that! How is it that despite being the princess of this damn kingdom, I am still the last to know anything around here?” you shriek, ignoring Jimin’s silent pleas for you to quiet down. No, you are done being quiet; if you had to choose a moment to you would throw away all etiquette classes out the window, it would be now.

Jimin heaves a sigh, rubbing his temples. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss, interrupting him. You hold up a finger when he makes a move to argue. “No, you answer my questions, first and foremost. Why did I only find out from my father just now that you volunteered to get stationed at the border?” You can feel your face heating up from the frustration and betrayal you feel; blood rushes up to your head and leaves you feeling dizzy, but you refuse to stop until he budges.

You’re breathing heavily, speaking so quickly that you doubt you’re making any sense right now. “The king requested for volunteers to fill the station guard units over a month ago. We’ve met and seen each other multiple times since then, and yet here we are,” you spit out, jabbing a nail into his chest. He barely budges, only keeping his head lowered. “Huh? Why on earth would you keep this from me? Answer me, Park Jimin!”

Jimin grimaces, his face contorting as if he’s in pain. He does not make a move to reply, only continues to avoid your fierce gaze. But even from where you stand under this dim light, you can tell from his expression that he isn’t guilty—just forlorn. Heartbroken, even.

You swallow thickly, blinking rapidly to keep your angry tears at bay, but your voice still cracks when you ask, “Why won’t you say anything?”

Finally, he looks at you. “What else is there to say?” He sounds as defeated as you feel.

And yet, you’re flabbergasted. You’re angry, tired, and hysterical—but above all else, you’re hurt. It feels as though a massive rock has dropped in your stomach, crashing waves against your chest like fire licking at your bones. The heavy feeling that has been weighing on you finally has a name, as you have been fighting to ignore what it was for ages now. Deep down, you know that this is inevitable, but somewhere inside you still resides the six-year-old child entrenched in her happy fairy tales, the same girl who believes that good things will always happen to good people.

You hoped that you would have at least deserved a warning. Preparation before this mirage disappeared forever. But Jimin had always been the type to rip the bandage and muscle through the pain, so you shouldn’t have been surprised at all. You just hoped that the two of you would still have more time.

A naive thing to desire, as Park Jimin was never yours to call your own.

You’re struggling to find the words to speak, anything to convince him to stay, even if you know it is not your place. He can see you grappling for straws, and perhaps it is out of pity or self-preservation, but he does not mention it. He does not say anything about you at all.

Eventually, he speaks. “I am… I have to...” He hesitates for a moment, taking one short glance at you before staring at the door. His hand grips the hilt of his sword tightly, though you know it is not because he itches to wield it, but for his ease of mind. You have learned, after years of growing up with him, that his only comfort comes from his own strength, his own ability to control his fate.

“Unfortunately, I must leave for now, Your Highness. Let us speak about this later before my subordinates begin to wonder.” There is a heaviness in his tone when he says that, like it is disgraceful for you to be seen with him. It reignites the fire in your veins once more, and you reflexively reach out to grab his retreating shoulder before the shed is suddenly bathed in light.

“Princess Y/N? Are you alright?” Prince Jungkook stands by the entrance of the armory, sweaty hair matted to his skin from his morning practice routine. For a moment, you almost hate the way he had sounded so… well-meaning, even though he had done nothing wrong to spite you. In fact, Jeon Jungkook has always been the perfect filial son, someone any royal family would be proud of.

And unfortunately for you, that was quite possibly the only reason you were betrothed to him in the first place.

You see him eye the pair of you curiously, his gaze gradually coming to a stop where your hand still rests against Jimin’s shoulder. You retract it immediately as if burned. You clear your throat, curtsying respectfully to him. “I am fine, Prince Jungkook. I am sorry for the scene I caused. I hope I did not interrupt your daily practice,” you say carefully, folding your hands in front of you.

Jungkook nods silently, his expression giving nothing away. Feeling awkward under his scrutiny, you curtsy to him once more. You shuffle away from Jimin without sparing him another glance, but you feel his gaze trained on your back like a brand. You wait for Jungkook to allow you to pass him before scuttling away, the ends of your dress dragging across the dirt path as you rush back towards the castle.

Stupid of you.

Jimin had been right, like always. News spreads fast within these ancient walls, and the chatterings about your emotional display are sure to reach your father’s ears one way or another. You doubt he’d be surprised by it; it’s no secret that your affections have always lied heavily on the royal guardsman. As long as you kept your secret rendezvous a secret, the King is more than happy to turn a blind eye. A reward, perhaps, for keeping your side of the deal.

Except that side of the deal hadn’t meant to arrive until your older brother had been wed, right after his search for his queen consort had been completed. But Jungkook’s family had been adamant to move things along, most likely due to their desperation to form an alliance with your prominent kingdom. As the seventh son, Jungkook hardly had any use for them in their household other than being goods for barter, and in any other case, you might have felt bad for him.

The guilt feels like a dagger pressing itself against your throat, and yet, you do not have the courage to fight against it. You sigh, defeated, as you stay reclused in your bedroom, waiting for Jimin to join you.

You don’t join your family for lunch that afternoon: a bigger mistake on your part, as it probably incriminates you further. Even worse still, Jungkook and his escorts are guests at the palace, and your absence doesn’t look good for your reputation. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to care that day, only offering weak excuses about a headache to appease them.

To your surprise, Jungkook had vouched for you, according to your handmaiden. When you asked what he said, they said he had mentioned something about your pensiveness from this morning. You scoff, wondering if he must be covering your mistake for the sake of your future together.

The sun makes its way across the horizon and still no signs of Jimin visiting your quarters. You pace your room for so long that you fear leaving the carpet threadbare, your restlessness causing spikes of fear to trickle down your spine. Your entire body tingles with the need to do something, anything. Just to feel as though you still have some control, some sense of sanity.

By your dresser, your untouched violin sits, waiting forlornly for your hands to caress it once more. It is a gift from your mother for your birthday, though you have scarcely used it since then. You have always been talented with the violin, but the need to play it had died down once your days had been occupied with a different type of music—the sort of melodies that you could not pull from strings or brass.

You pluck the violin from its stand, the polished wood still smelling of varnish when you place it by your neck. You begin to play a piece from memory—a song that your tutor had once drilled into your head until your hands could move on their own. Even still, you love the piece with all your heart; the melancholy and longing of the notes resonate deeply within you.

You know that what you are doing is cruel, both to yourself and to him. With your window wide open, you are sure that the wind can carry your music to the royal offices, where Jimin is sure to hear it. Anyone would be able to tell that it is you playing, stringing note after note with hopeless abandon. Just to get a reaction, from anyone. Anything!

So deeply are you immersed in your playing that it takes a moment for you to notice the knocking. Your bow stills mid-way, your breath hitching when the knocking continues. “Just a moment,” you call out, hastily placing your violin back on your dresser before ripping open the door to find—

Prince Jungkook still has his hand poised to knock, not having anticipated you to open your door so quickly. “Oh, pardon me. I am so sorry to intrude on your playing. Have I come at a bad time?”

Your shoulders slacken, and your disappointment could not be more apparent. “Oh.”

Prince Jungkook smiles wryly, not appearing to be offended by your less than enthusiastic greeting. “I know that it is improper of me to ask, but could you invite me into your quarters for a moment? I would like to speak to you, if you would allow it.”

“Why would it be improper? We’re promised to each other anyway,” you reply bitterly, the words coming out before you can think twice.

Jungkook cringes, bowing his head sadly. “I suppose that is a bad thing, isn’t it?”

It is impossible not to feel bad after that, your face flushing deeply with shame. “Not exactly…” You offer an awkward smile to compensate, but you doubt that it reaches your eyes. You step aside, allowing him to enter. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

His long legs allow him to take only two strides to reach the center of your room, his large frame engulfing the space. It almost feels suffocating, being here with him. Your mind unhelpfully compares him to the other only man who has ever entered your room, a man who had a much more lithe figure to the one with you right now.

You notice how he scans your room with sharp eyes, how he locks onto your violin immediately. He moves towards it and makes a motion as if to hold it, and after you give him your permission, he picks it up with reverence, turning it over with meticulous grace. “I was not aware that you were so gifted with musical talent,” he murmurs, plucking the strings experimentally.

You shrug, leaning against your door. “It was never brought up during our dinner conversations.” Not that much was said between the two of you during your meals together, as your father seems more interested in learning about Jungkook’s competency in politics than what his hobbies are.

He nods, absent-minded. He returns the violin to its proper place, his touch featherlike and graceful. He might be a violinist himself, you think. “That piece you were just playing… What was it called?”

A common question. “It’s a traditional song based on one of the kingdom’s myths,” you reply easily.

He nods again. “Why were you playing it?”

A less common question, one that you find more difficult to answer. “It… happened to be the first one I thought of, I suppose.” A half-truth, at the very least.

He hums thoughtfully, turning to you with doleful eyes. “Then I suppose that you must be grieving, are you not? if that is the sort of song that first comes to mind.”

You’re immediately defensive, curling into yourself as you watch him suspiciously. “My father… He told you, didn’t he?”

Even though you do not expound on what you mean, the prince is quick to shake his head in denial. “Nothing my eyes have not already seen.”

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, hackles rising as you size him up. “What do you want from me then? A confession? For me to go on my knees and ask for forgiveness?” you spit.

He stares at you, astonished. “Who am I to dole out absolution when I am but only a man?”

“So does that mean you have committed the same mistakes that I have? I find that hard to believe,” you scoff, lowering your guard in your annoyance. He’s only been in your room for a few minutes and already you tire of his company; you wonder how you’ll manage to keep your sanity while spending your life with him.

But in truth, even if he hadn’t irritated you, even if he was the nicest man in the world, he would never compare to the man you have already laid your heart with.

He shakes his head once more, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “Not quite, but I do understand what you’re going through. Somewhat.”

Somewhat, he says. The more you observe him, the more you realize how young he is. Not just in the way he appears, but also in the way he talks and moves, almost like the stars trapped in his eyes have yet to escape. You can imagine him falling for one of the servant girls back in his own palace, secretly swapping lovelorn gazes across polished halls. Unlike you, he must not have acted on his greed, knowing the extent of his responsibility to his house and kingdom.

Unlike you, he does not bear a cruel bone in his body, as he would never subject that poor girl to the sort of heartbreak that only a clandestine relationship could offer.

“I want to make myself clear to you, my princess. I did not come here to accuse you of anything. I came here because I wanted to make myself clear with you,” he says. You raise a brow, urging him to continue.

“I am not asking you to fall in love with me,” he says plainly. It surprises you greatly, to hear him speak so candidly. Ever the perfect politician, he’d only ever spoken with care and precision, always anticipating the other party’s reaction. You have spoken with enough visiting royals to know that he is well-versed in that sort of language, so to hear him speak so brazenly is almost refreshing.

“I wouldn’t have offered, regardless,” you respond, smirking sardonically. He laughs at that, and you can hear the honesty in his laughter, too.

“Fair. But for the sake of the people who put their faith in us, I would suggest,” he pauses, licking his lips as he mulls over his next words, “that we might be sincere with one another. Just so our union may not perish… prematurely.”

You don’t respond, scanning him for any ill intent. As a princess from an illustrious kingdom, you have needed to stave off numerous lords and princes from taking your hand for their own wicked gain. However, none of your previous suitors were like Prince Jungkook, who genuinely seemed to care greatly for his people, as seen by how kindly he has treated his entourage of helpers.

He waits for you to say something, but eventually, he continues, “Princess Y/N, it would be the greatest honor if you would allow me to know you better. I seek nothing more than your companionship.” He blushes slightly, coughing into his fists. “W-well, not that you owe me that, as we could very well live separately for the rest of our lives, but... Umm… That came out a little more awkward than I intended, but I hope you get the gist.”

You realize, then, that he desires to live peacefully with you—guilelessly and unselfishly. Perhaps he is doing this for his parents (highly likely), or perhaps he has no other choice (extremely likely). But the fact remains that in front of you stands a good man with a simple wish: to become friends with you, if not at least become amicable with one another.

“Then I suppose you want to know more about me? About my story?” you ask sarcastically. “Want to know why the eldest daughter of the king is off frolicking with the captain of his guard?”

Jungkook snorts, an easy smile on his lips. “Well, you could tell me that, but I was thinking more along the lines of ‘when did you learn to play the violin?’ and other neutral information. You know, like how normal people converse.”

It takes you a moment to realize that he had been making fun of you. “Hey, watch it, princeling. You’re not in the clear just yet,” you huff, but there is no bite to your bark. You can tell that he knows this, from the way his tense figure has relaxed tremendously in this short amount of time. You notice your own tension fading away too, if only infinitesimally.

“I can start if you want,” he hums, tapping a finger on his chin as he thinks. “Well, I have always wanted to tell you this, but you might think I might be buttering your ass if I did, pardon the language—”

You laugh loudly, baffled by his seemingly out-of-nowhere casual demeanor. In your bedroom, with his shoulders slackened and hair still disheveled from his morning practice, he looks nothing like the perfect prince you had boxed him in as. “Pardoned,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“—but I’ve always found your tenacity to be admirable. Your dedication to your people, evidenced by your tireless work to make their lives better, has always struck me as inspirational. Pardon the cliché, but you really aren’t like other girls,” he says.

You wave off his compliments. “By the sounds of it, you must have this line practiced to perfection. Don’t tell me this is what you say to the other princesses when you confess to them.”

He flushes darkly, stuttering at your brash comment. The sight makes you snort, only worsening his embarrassment. “I have, um, never confessed to anyone before…”

“I find that hard to believe. Sure, you might not be like me—” you say drily. You haven’t sentenced your own life to heartache and misfortune, is what you mean to say. The pang in your chest comes back with a vengeance, but you carry on. “—but I would imagine that you’ve had to sweet talk many princesses before me. I was not your parents’ first choice, was I?”

“Indeed,” he admits awkwardly. “But I am not completely powerless. My father had allowed me some freedom when choosing a bride, and I…” he trails off, swallowing nervously. He gestures to you vaguely, unwilling to keep eye contact as he does.

You gape at him, pointing to yourself. “You… You chose me? Why?”

“It’s exactly as I said,” he shrugs. “I read about the things you’ve done, and I was drawn to you. It seems that my freedom has indirectly caused your misery, however…” he says ashamedly.

Guilt coils up you for the umpteenth time that day, except now it is directed at the boy in front of you. Foolish of you to think that your actions only affected you and your lover. Foolish of you to believe that your actions don’t have consequences bigger than you might have imagined.

“It… is not your fault,” you grit out, though it pains you to say. Not because it is a lie, but rather, it is a painful truth: a pill you have finally been forced to swallow. “My recklessness has caused more wreckage than I would have imagined.”

“I must admit that I have always been in love with the concept of love,” he says. He scratches the back of his neck, shyly turning away from you. “I believe that while love comes in all different shapes and sizes, it is certainly never supposed to be cruel. It is never selfish or… painful.”

Your eyes narrow, fully understanding his implications. “Then you must be as naive as you appear,” you snarl. You step away from the doorway, making your way towards the prince until your chests were merely a breath apart. However, he doesn’t back away like you thought he would. He stands his ground, looking at you through his long lashes.

“You wouldn’t understand. Have you ever loved someone so deeply that even the thought of being apart wounds you? Have you ever stayed awake at night, listening carefully to the sound of your own beating heart, aching for someone you cannot have? It is an ache, Jungkook, that cannot be salved with pretty words and sentiments. It is not a choice,” you finish, vision growing blurry with unshed tears. But you refuse to let them fall, not for a boy who didn’t know better.

His gaze is level with your own, his breathing steady. His eyes look dark to you, no longer sparkling like they once did. But before you can blink, the darkness is gone, replaced with his carefully crafted neutrality. The princely politician makes his return, except he’s a little sadder. Disappointed, even. “No, I have not experienced any of that. I cannot say for certain what is true, but I have always thought that love should be gentle and kind. Something to be enjoyed, and not a cause of strife.”

He steps away from you, his footsteps light as he makes his way to the door. When he twists the doorknob, he stills for a moment. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N. Don’t… keep hurting yourself, okay? A lot of people care for you, even if they don’t say it. Even if it doesn’t seem that way.”

You bark out a laugh, but it sounds watered down to your ears. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with me already.”

He smiles at you, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs before bidding you farewell.

You’re left alone again, and your room feels significantly more hollow. Your entire body is vibrating, filled with an unidentifiable feeling swirling in your chest like a hurricane. Was it anger? Frustration? Hopelessness? Guilt? Perhaps an ungodly concoction of all four?

You feel nauseous, almost falling over from the strength of it. Everything about today has caused you to lose your hold on your sanity, the urge to scream in anguish becoming more unbearable by the second.

Love should be gentle and kind, he said. Despite how sweet his intentions, his words still feel like poison. How dare he say that to you, when he knows that you wish it was true?

You grab your violin by the neck, your violent grip causing the wood to creak. Your hands shake, tears freely falling into the sea of your self-pity.

You drag your bow harshly against the strings, striking a sound louder than your own frustrated cry. A few of the hairs snap, but you continue, playing like a madwoman possessed. The music is frantic, agonizing—goosebumps trail your skin unprompted. Your pain overflows until even the dead can hear you weep.

Your violin almost drowns out the sound of another knock at your door. “Go away,” you growl, playing more fiercely. The violin groans, as if in pain. “If you’ve come back to lecture me about love again—”

“Your Highness,” a softer voice responds. It’s not Jungkook like you had thought. “It’s Jimin.”

Even if he had not announced himself, you would have known just by his footsteps. You freeze, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. You swipe a hand across your cheek in a futile attempt to hide away the evidence. Even without a mirror, you know that your eyes are puffy and bloodshot.

He enters without your prompting: comfortable enough to invade your space as if he had not torn your heart to pieces just hours ago. His gaze immediately goes to your face, a staggered breath leaving his lungs when he sees your hollow expression. But that moment of weakness disappears in an instant, the same stoic captain from this morning reappearing right in front of you.

“Had you been expecting someone else?” he asks in place of a greeting. There is an edge to his tone, you notice. If you didn’t know better, you might have missed it. Jealousy. How dare he.

You squint at him, but you say nothing. The air is icy with tension, enough to freeze hell twice over.

He clears his throat. “I’ve come to apologize, your Highness. It was out of line for a royal guard such as myself to drag you so brusquely like that. It will not happen again,” he murmurs.

You can hear the hidden meaning buried in his words. It won’t happen again, because I won’t be here to do it.

“Is that all you have to say?” you whisper. You place your violin down carefully, but your vision is already turning blurry once more. You won’t cry in front of him. You refuse to be the only one hurt from this.

He sighs, as if worn by your childish antics. “Y/N, you don’t understand—”

When he calls you by your name, the fraying string inside of you snaps. “Save it,” you seethe. “You’re a coward, that’s what you are. There isn’t anything to understand.”

“No, you should understand,” Jimin steps forward, grabbing you by the shoulders. He shakes you, desperation hanging off every inch of his frame. “As a princess, you should know what it means to serve the people. You should know more than anyone about the oaths I made to this kingdom. You should be proud of me!”

His increasing volume only encourages you to match him, your throat nearly getting torn in two from how loudly you shout. “Cut the patriotic act! Do you think I’ve forgotten all the whispers you’ve planted in my head? About how you wished more than anything to work with your brothers as performers, how you wished you hadn’t been the breadwinner of your family just so you wouldn’t have to sell your strength to my father?”

“I was naive. I should have known it was my responsibility,” he counters.

“Then what about all the promises you made to me during our nights together? You swore to love me forever under starry nights and disheveled sheets. You said you’d run away with me, just so I wouldn’t have to marry anyone else!”

Jimin grits his teeth. “Meer words of comfort. The babblings of a child.”

You shove him away, your skin burning from where he touched you. “Then actions must speak louder than words, correct? You cannot hide from me when your lovemaking spoke volumes. ”

For once, it seems Park Jimin is at a loss for words. He clenches his fists by his side, looking utterly defeated. “Y/N… You know that it’s the right thing to do.”

“I don’t,” you mumble, lips trembling. “I really don’t.”

“Even so,” Jimin says. He lifts a finger, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. “It is better that I make the choice than you.”

Better that he breaks your heart than you. “We… we could’ve found another way,” you croak, helpless.

Jimin only smiles sadly. “The prince… He is a good man. I have been watching him these past few weeks and I know that he will—” his voice catches, and he has to pause for a moment to regain his composure. “He will make a good match for you. It would be wrong for us to…”

It pains you to admit it, but he’s right. Jungkook doesn’t deserve your infidelity. And yet, even if Jimin were to leave, would you ever be wholly Jungkook’s anyway? What would be the difference, if your heart will continue to yearn for another man regardless?

“Tell me this, then. For once, spare me from your half-truths. Drive the final nail into my coffin so that I know that you are truly certain.” You force him to look you directly in the eye, his pupils shaking as he takes you in for what might be his last time. It is almost as if time had stopped, and only the two of you existed in this space. This bedroom that you called your haven, the place where you had fallen in love—the place that will witness your first heartache.

“If our lives could have been different, would you have loved me then?”

Jimin has never looked so weary, so different from the boisterous boy you had met all those years ago. “I’m sure… that I would’ve done what was best. For the greater good.”

“And does that greater good include us? How do we fit in that equation?”

But he only steps away, his hand still outstretched as if to hold you. Then, he slowly tucks it behind him, his posture straightening the way a guard should. “I think you already know the answer to that,” he says, the note of finality ringing loud and clear.

He pries open the door, hesitating only for one more moment before chancing one last glance at you. “Tomorrow… I leave with my men. I would appreciate it if you don’t come.”

The door closes, and your question remains unanswered.

Just like him, the empty silence of your room refuses to respond, no matter how many times you ask.

Because in the sanctity of your bedroom, no promises ever did hold. The Park Jimin you loved was never real in the first place, and no matter how much you slam your fists and stomp your feet, he’s never going to love you the way you want him to.

And there you stand, all by your lonesome, without the prying gazes of those who expect better of you. Gruesomely, and painfully you.

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yanderecandystore · 4 years ago

Note

How ye are having a good day v3v, I feel like imma you a bunch of oc ideas but ummm you got any siren/shark mermen ocs with a s/o who is a deep sea diver?😳 - Cold Anon

Boo, I'm so sorry for taking this long ;-; shit has been going down at the speed of light, so I haven't been able to focus all that well.

I have written your request a couple of times, but it always felt so… Awful? Like- It didn't read as proper oneshot so I kept re doing it over and over again.

I have two posts about mermaids, yet not exactly an official character. I'm going to make this one without an official one for now as well because I can't really think straight- Sorry Cold.

Shout out to @aka-thethirstyone for giving me ideas and helping me build this up-

TW/Tags: depressed/suicidal reader // failed suicide attempt (drowning/hydrogen poisoning although not very accurate) // victim blaming mentality (coming from the reader) // angst sad boi hours with some softness in the end //

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Deep blue sea [Yandere!Shark Merman x Reader - Short Fanfiction]:

You've put yourself in this situation, and even if the consequences may seem unfair, you should know better than to whine about it, you should know about now you don't have the right to complain about something you brought to yourself.

That's what you kept telling yourself, everyday, every hour of each day, and it seems to be a prominent thought even in a moment like this.

Every time you go underwater, you can't help but feel a deep connection with the submerged world around you. So much color and wild beauty that if makes you feel like you might as well not be on Earth anymore, it makes you feel like you're on a different planet.

Like you're in a different realm with wild creatures that hold both beauty and death in them, as marine creatures can be often quite unforgiving to each other, or unwanted visitors.

The alien-like ambience you feel while diving it's probably the most comforting thing in your job, if not the only comforting thing about your whole life.

Just like an old sailor, at sea you feel at home, and at home, you don't feel the same. But in your case, you feel like nothing whenever you come back to your house, and a "home" it's a place you have never really been in, so how can you describe the feeling you get when you're diving deep underwater, as something you never understood?

Who knows, maybe it was just a feeling you got, after all, all your team thinks you're too emotional over the ocean. Some would call you an insane person to be so attached to a body of water.

Yet it doesn't matter what the truth to your case may be, because it's whenever the embrace of said body of water fills your senses it's when you truly feel alive again.

That comforting embrace, as if the immense ocean was truly hugging you and relaxing your muscles.

That comforting, deadly embrace was what felt like home to you. And despite everyone else's warnings, you felt like it was your time to be one with the ocean.

It has been a long, unfortunate ride for you. And as I said before, it's not like you were planning on going back home today.

No, you refused to keep feeling empty at your empty house, going by every single day in your empty life-

It was time for a change. It was time for something different. Some peace for once, something that you wouldn't regret.

Or well, wouldn't be capable of regretting anyway.

Your plan was almost perfect, right? I mean, you were certain your diving team wouldn't notice you suddenly going numb, or even caring enough to help you out. So it was essentially perfect, right?

Yeah, it was unfortunate yet perfect. It brought you despair to think of how perfect your plan was.

But since when was your life easy, [Y/N]? Since when did your plans went your way, you don't really remember having luck-

Even at your final moments, you aren't giving peace that you waited for.

When you dived deep without the proper preparation and your oxygen tank having barely enough to half an hour, you let your body get numb by the water pressure and the narcosis that happened as soon as you dived too deep for your fragile body to handle.

Funny how something that can bring life can also take it away, water surely is probably the most powerful element on Earth. Yet, even if it was sentient, you couldn't be able to beg for the ocean water to fully take you away from this pain, from this emptiness you feel.

The ocean it's as beautiful as it is merciless, so it shouldn't have been a surprise that it would take back your hopes away from you.

While you were unconscious and awaiting your own end, you couldn't possibly be aware of the creature picking your numb floating body.

You couldn't possibly have seen the rest of your diving group looking for you, or the predator carefully observing them, making sure they couldn't see you or him.

When you wake up, you'll feel not only confused after finding out your plan has gone wrong but also finding the immense creature laying on top of you like a pillow.

You didn't feel like fighting, or understanding what the hell was going on, you just noticed that the man on top of you clearly wasn't human and really, really heavy.

Yet you weren't completely awake, you weren't completely fine passing through that whole event, hell, you didn't even realize you weren't inside the ocean anymore, or that you are laying on a completely unfamiliar beach with a creature who is essentially a myth on top of you.

He was sleeping. Dreaming.

Growling. Someone was having a bad dream.

Or maybe a good dream? Throughout your expeditions, you have never really interacted with sharks, only looked at them from afar, so you don't know how to read their behavior.

In a moment of high due to your sudden awakening, you pet his head, getting through his white and grey hair despite the fact that he shouldn't have any hair in his body.

But again, you didn't care, you didn't care for anything, you just wanted to look at the sky and drift once again into your dreamland.

Yet this gentle yet heavy and firm hold he got you on was starting to bother you, but not because you were not enjoying it, no, it was totally the opposite.

You... Missed this. You missed this now that you remember the last time you received any form of comfort from another living being. Even if this terrifying thing could possibly eat you, you felt somehow comfortable being hugged and used as a comfort pillow to someone so big and muscular.

You felt odd, like you were worth something for once.

As if this big predator of the vast seas needed some sort of comfort, and for some reason it chose you to help with his little self-conscious problem.

It felt great knowing that even the someone that is so menacing feels scared or sad from time to time. It makes you feel… Strong, in a sense.

If he can feel vulnerable and openly show it, then I can too, right?

Sigh…. Maybe you were overthinking it, like everything else you ever did. Maybe you should just sleep and see what happens when you wake up-

If. You wake up.

And while you were thinking the worst of yourself and of your captor, the man himself was trying his best to hold the joy, the sorrow, and the pain he felt when seeing you losing your strength while diving.

It doesn't matter if he says anything, what can he say? Nothing he could possibly think about telling you, you'll be able to understand back. The language barrier was just like that. Massive, towering, unbreakable.

It would take a long time to understand one another, considering how you both spoke in different ways. Generally speaking, even your minds seem to be in different places.

You thought about things that he would never be able to comprehend, your self hatred is something he'll never agree with.

Your pain, your sorrow, it doesn't make sense to him, cause up until this day, he only saw the [Y/N] that had fun swimming with the fish and playing with them. Not the one that lives unhappy up on the surface.

How can someone that brings him so much joy can think so little of themselves, is something he'll never understand.

He doesn't know exactly what your true plans are, since in his head, you do these things by accident.

You've been trying this for a couple of times now, and he has either not understood the meaning of it or tried to hide the fact from his own worrying heart.

You did something that would have been pretty stupid especially considering that you were all alone, what if he wasn't there observing you? Would you just- Stop moving completely?

The thought of seeing the cute diver he grown attached to going away from this plan of existence is cruel if not straight up torture.

He just found the one who is bound to be with him for all his life, how else would he feel after discovering something so terrible? The only thing that anyone would feel in his place is fear, is rage, is agony-

Clearly something was going wrong up there, something that made you just-

Decide to float through the ocean forever.

But- But this is oddly the perfect solution to his own problems, now he has a reason and a way to get you to be with him forever now, right?

You seemed to have given up on the human world you live in, and he really wants to be with you so you two can easily be together now. It's an unfortunate event yet also the only opportunity that he has seen as useful to his cause.

Of course, he doesn't understand you, and you surely don't understand him yet, but that is fine because as soon as he wakes up, he'll make sure to do everything in his power to make you feel like the happiest mate of all.

He only hopes you didn't see him sleeping on top of you as a lazy thing for a husband to do, don't worry about him being a bad dad though, he'll make sure to show off everything he has in store for you.

Even if it takes a while to get you accustomed to his mannerism and your now little private island, he knows you're going to love it here with him as your company.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #sheep stuff #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere oneshot #yandere short fanfiction #short fanfic #yandere mermaid #yandere merman #yandere merman x reader #yandere shark mermaid #yandere shark merman #yandere shark merman x reader #special delivery request #special delivery short fanfiction

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cuculine-nelipot · 3 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday, Gascon

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Birthday

Relationship: Gascon Brossard/Reynard Odo, Meve & Reynard Odo, Meve/Reynard Odo (background)

Rating: Teen

Content Warning: Gascon’s Tragic Backstory, Thronebreaker spoilers

Summary: Nearly a year after Gascon's mysterious disappearance, he returns to explain himself to, and hopefully make amends with, the man he left behind. (ao3)

Even by the stars’ cold light, he could tell that the gardens were far more beautiful than they were when he last saw them. Wilder, and more colourful, vibrant, but with an undeniable air of dignity. It suited her well, Gascon thought. Nothing else would do for the warrior Queen.

It was the height of summer, and the sultry air hummed with cricket choruses and cicada songs. His clothes were stifling. On another night, he might have gone to the pond nearby, and passed the dark hours sleeping near the cool water. But there was someone he wanted to see, if only he could summon the courage to find him.

He still hadn’t found any when Reynard found him instead, sitting down, leaving much fewer inches between them than Gascon anticipated, or expected he deserved. They sat on the marble bench, eyes fixed on the marble fountain — a matching set, a present from Meve to Reginald after some battle or other, he couldn’t remember which. Stags locked in battle, it was supposed to be, hooves flying, antlers clashing, the sides of their faces grazed. An unnatural posture. Gascon always thought they looked like they were kissing.

“You have shite security, Reynard. I expected better from you.”

“You were seen, Gascon. The guards were instructed to come find me when they saw a man in a funny hat skulking in like an admonished fox.”

“Am I admonished, then?”

“No, not by me. Nor by Meve, if that’s what troubles you.” If Reynard had to guess by the state of him, the only person doing any admonishing was Gascon himself.

“What makes you say I’m troubled?”

There was his unusually slight frame, his hunched posture, his dishevelled attire, the nervous jiggling of his leg, and, well- “You could have used the front door.”

Gascon paused, stilled as he considered, then his head cocked to the side, and an amused smile spread across his face as he said, “Hadn’t even occurred to me.”

Neither man said anything for a long moment. Reynard only watched, wishing the other man would turn to look at him. Gascon only wrung his hands between his knees, eyes fixed on the entwined, marble stags, one white veined grey, like the fountain’s basin and the bench, the other black veined white.

Reynard had promised that when he saw Gascon again — because the man would come back, of that he’d been certain — Reynard promised himself that he would remain the pinnacle of composure, that he would let Gascon explain, and he would listen. But now, with the man himself so close, seeing him after so long — much longer than Reynard had anticipated, he couldn’t stop from feeling wounded.

“Did you sneak out the back door when you left too?” His voice shook as he spoke, but whether it was from anger or hurt he could not say.

“Reynard-”

“Why did you leave? I thought- especially after- it seemed like-”

“It was only one night, Reynard,” Gascon reminded him, sounding more tired than the older man had ever heard him.

Reynard’s body jerked away, as if slapped. The hurt evident in his voice as he spoke. “It was hardly the only night that mattered.”

There had been so many nights, as many pints of ale and campfires as there were stars in the skies they slept under, and after, there were the lavish meals in candlelit banquet halls, and strolls through moonlit gardens when it all got too claustrophobic, and so much laughter through it all. All from Gascon at first, far too pleased whenever he earned himself a scowl or a blush from the older man, but then one day, Reynard found he’d started laughing too. Then came the lingering glances, the brushing of hands on arms, on thighs, grazing shoulders and backs, growing firmer, bolder with each pass.

There was the way Gascon smiled at him — gradually less smug as a quality akin to sunlight began to blossom, a light that warmed Reynard’s heart and fluttered in his belly. Then at last, on one of the older man’s increasingly frequent visits to Gascon’s manor, in a moment of uncommon bravery, Reynard adorned the role of romantic hero, and kissed him. He grabbed Gascon by the face and brought their lips together and in the ensuing fit of ecstasy he almost forgot to panic. Fortunately, the younger man was much better versed in such matters, and so their dance moved at last to Gascon’s bedroom. He was gone by the time Reynard woke up.

“Should have known you’d been the sentimental type,” Gascon half sighed, half groaned.

“Why are you here, Gascon?” Reynard asked — demanded, a steely edge in his voice that at one time amused Gascon greatly, but now cut deeper than any blade ever could.

“I need to tell you something.” Gripping the edge of his seat tightly, he rocked forward as if he were about to be sick, his face suddenly taking on a concerning pallor. If the younger man were being at all honest with himself, he would have confessed a desire to be in bed, perhaps with his face pressed against Reynard’s chest, the older man’s fingers in his hair like they laid that night, warm and glowing, feeling like so much lay before them. Perhaps then it would have been easier to speak.

Perhaps Reynard sensed something of the sort, for his fingers itched to take off Gascon’s stupid hat, and card through his surely sweat damp hair. But he stayed his hand, too wary of being stung again, and waited.

“I- it’s my birthday tomorrow.” Of all the things Gascon could have said, Reynard would never have thought to expect that.

“Okay-?” he prompted when Gascon seemed to have lost courage again.

“I’m not turning eighteen,” the younger man confessed, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Aren’t you?” Reynard asked dryly.

“You knew?”

“I had an inkling.” He’d had a well of inklings. Reynard hadn’t once believed that the bandit was a mere boy of seventeen, childlike though he was. But Gascon had his secrets, and Reynard didn’t want to pry. “How old will you be then?” he prompted Gascon again, when he fell into another uncharacteristic silence, leaving Reynard with the tiresome task of being uncharacteristically vocal. He’d do it though, if that’s what Gascon needed from him then, he’d do it a thousand times over.

Gascon’s eyes were nervous now, fraught, and far away where they bored into the ground. “Twenty-eight.” His voice even quieter than it was before. He swallowed dryly.

“Not a bad age. Why hide it?”

“Because! Because I- I wasn’t a child when- when they-”

“When your family was killed?” Reynard finished softly. Any other night, had they been talking about anything else, Reynard had no doubt that Gascon would have found his tone unforgivably patronising, but now he just nodded slowly, looking at the older man with wide eyes, looking every bit the child he claimed he hadn’t been.

They never talked about it. Reynard first began to suspect just who Gascon was that night he asked to take his leave of them, and Meve followed, his strange demeanour causing her concern. He’d been so quiet when they returned, and Meve so evasive. Reynard knew the area well, knew they were near the Brossard estate. When Meve ordered the family graveyard repaired, the pieces slid into place all too easily; when she returned the land to Gascon’s care outright, there was simply no denying it. But still Gascon never spoke of his family, and Reynard never pried, though now he was beginning to think he should have.

“I should have been there,” Gascon whispered. With his eyes fixed downward at nothing again, it was hard to say if he spoke to Reynard, himself, or the earth below their feet.

“Then you’d be dead.” Reynard answered bluntly.

Suddenly outraged, Gascon whirled around, standing in front of the other man, his arms spread wide as he spoke. “Do you know why I wasn’t there? They’d sent me away. To fucking Cintra. With a friend of my father’s, hoping he’d be able to entice me into being the heir they needed.”

“Gascon-”

“They loved me so much.” His voice, thick with emotion, dropped again, and even in the low light, Reynard could see glistening tears swelling at his eyes. “They did everything for me, gave me everything, they loved me so much-”

“So they would have been relieved you weren’t there. They would have been happy that you lived.”

“I failed them.”

“You’d be dead now, if you’d been there. You would have died.”

“So? I was old enough. I should have died for my family.”

“Dying for, and dying with, are not the same, Gascon. And you were only a child.”

“I was a man!”

“You were hardly a man when I met you,” Reynard laughed in spite of himself.

Gascon glared at him reproachfully, pouting in a way that more than proved his point, and dropped to sit on the fountain’s edge, head in his hands. Reynard pushed away from the bench, walking over slowly, his boots crunching deliberately on the gavel. When he stopped in front of the other man, he crouched down, his face level with Gascon’s bowed head. Carefully, he pried those remorseful hands away, leaving Gascon no choice but to look at him.

“So say you died for your family, hm? And then what? Where would that have left us?”

“You would have been fine,” Gascon insisted weekly in answer to Reynard’s unvoiced question.

“Fine, maybe, but fine isn’t living, is it? You taught me that.”

“Reynard-” Gascon moaned. Before he had a chance to hide away again, Reynard was on his feet, cradling his head to his stomach, holding him steady as sniffed wetly, hands fisted in the sides of Reynard's tunic.

“Is that why you left?” he whispered. “The guilt of being there became too much?”

Gascon shook his head, and gasped, “No. Well, yes, but not like that.” As anticipated, finding the words was easier now that he had Reynard against him, touching him, but it still took a moment, quietly nuzzling into Reynard’s stomach, for him to find his voice. “I went back because I thought that I could finally be the man my parents would have been proud of, but after that night-”

Reynard’s stomach turned cold at those words, at that loaded silence. Unconsciously, his grip on Gascon’s hair tightened, but if the other man noticed, he didn’t show it. In all the months of his absence, it never occurred to Reynard that Gascon might be ashamed of him.

“I just- I thought you deserved to know the truth, to know the man I am, but I- I couldn’t tell you. I only meant to be away a few days, but the longer I was gone, the worse I felt about leaving and I- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

Loosening his grip as the cold fled from his body, Reynard instead took Gascon’s face in his hands and pulled him up, looking him in the eye unyieldingly, almost sternly as spoke. “I know the kind of man you are, Gascon,” he said firmly. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

Relief lightened Gascon’s chest as something warmer bloomed where the weight of his guilt had been, spilling over to flood his skin, his eyes watering again. “Fuck- Reynard-”

“May I kiss you now?” Reynard cut in. They weren’t going to unpack everything Gascon was feeling in its entirety in one night, let alone resolve all of it, but certainly they’d done enough to earn a kiss, and Reynard had been left waiting for so long.

Quite agreeing that they’d lost enough time, Gascon simply grabbed Reynard by the waist and pulled their bodies flush, so that nearly every inch of them from their chests to their feet were touching. Tilting his head so his silly hat wouldn’t get in the way, he brought their lips together with barely tempered desperation, eager to treat the man in his arms right. Reynard’s lips were thin and soft, naturally turned down in a dour expression that Gascon teased him for relentlessly. All it had taken was one night with those lips on him for Gascon to spend the better part of a year missing them dearly.

Reynard had promised himself that when they at last kissed again — because this moment had been inevitable, he was certain of it — he would not get carried away; it would be slow, and tender, and almost chaste. And it was, for a while. He pressed softly against Gascon’s wind-chapped lips, his tongue poking out just enough to lick a little, and, thankfully, Gascon was content to follow his lead this time, grateful for his attention. But before Reynard knew it, his hands slipped to cradle the back of Gascon’s head, thumbs pressed into the hinges of his jaw as he tilted the younger man back, nipping, then biting on his lower lip, seeking to deepen the kiss. And Gascon was parting his reddened lips, and licking inside his mouth to invite the same. Happily, Reynard obliged, moaning into Gascon’s mouth with all the airs of a sailor’s wife at last seeing her husband returned to shore.

“God’s I missed you,” Gascon breathed when he was at last allowed to come up for air, and it was the easiest breath he’d taken since they last saw each other.

As much as Gascon would have liked to stay in the garden, in that night, lost in Reynard’s kiss forever, Reynard did eventually convince him of the delights and virtues of a good bed. Late as it was, neither could in good conscious call for a bath, so they made do with a bucket of well water and a couple of washcloths, Reynard helping scrub Gascon to get him in bed all the faster. He’d waited far too long to sleep in Gascon’s arms again, and been denied the joy of waking up in them even longer.

Face to face, Gascon snoring lightly into his neck, his arm around his waist, holding him tightly, it should have been easy to fall asleep. Perhaps it would have been, if Reynard had not been quite so eager to watch him, feel him, make sure that he was really there after so many months of missing him, and not some vision conjured by the heat of a midsummer’s night.

His worries were quickly dispelled when Meve snuck into his room, sliding the false wall shut behind her, as he usually did when he made the journey in reverse.

“I hear you got your puppy back.” She said quietly, padding around to sit on the farther side of the bed, so that she could see Reynard’s face as they spoke.

It had been well over a year since their relationship transformed into something more… intimate, and yet still Reynard fought the urge to at the very least sit up in deference to her presence. However, being shirtless, he supposed that would be rather more indecorous, and besides, he didn’t want to risk stirring the man sound asleep in his arms. He was so tired.

“You see him too, then?” He asked, unable to keep a smile from his lips.

“I do. I take it he explained himself?”

“He did.”

“To your satisfaction?”

“To my satisfaction, yes.” He sounded almost reproachful. “You needn’t worry, Meve.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She only watched them for a moment, taking in the sight of what she knew her lover had so longed for. They were pretty together, she had to give them that, and there was something delightful in the very idea of Reynard being softer on the bandit than she was. Tentatively, she reached out to stroke Gascon’s dark hair, and the back of Reynard’s hand where he held the younger man’s head.

“It’s his birthday tomorrow.” Reynard said softly, absently, but with a sense of wonder in his voice, like he found it truly marvellous that Gascon’s birthday was tomorrow.

“Oh? How old will he be?”

“Twenty-eight.”

She mulled that over silently, quickly puzzling out why the young man had lied in the first place, letting the weight of Reynard’s knowing — of Gascon’s telling him the truth, sink in. So, it appeared, the puppy was finally ready to live a little more honestly. “I should have a special breakfast brought up to you then.”

“And you’ll eat with us?” Reynard inquired hopefully.

“If you wish it.”

He rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh. It was a game she’d been playing, trying to get him to express his wishes to her. “I’d be grateful if you did.”

“Well, how could I deny you now?” Neither spoke for a moment, both their eyes cast tenderly upon the man sleeping between them. Then she laughed, snorted. “‘Seventeen’ my arse.”

In spite of himself, Reynard laughed too.

Meve stayed long enough for him to fall asleep, his arms still wrapped tightly around Gascon, Gascon’s hair kissing his lips in a way she knew the older man found inexpressibly gratifying. She kissed one man on the temple, and then the other, and existed once more through the concealed sliding door. She never spent the night, not since she and Reynard first fell into bed together, the day the paperwork had been signed on their victory. True, there was no small amount of relief that the deep, abiding affection they held for each other had finally spilled over into something outwardly passionate, and with any luck it would continue to do so for years to come, but Meve also knew they couldn’t work together in a way that suited them both.

First, she had long felt that Reynard would make someone the perfect husband one day, told him as much for years, but she’d already been married, and had no inclination to being so again, even to a man like Reynard. Second, though she would never tell him this, Meve suspected that her chief advisor would never be able to fully remove her from the pedestal he’d set her upon for so many years. So she kissed one many on the temple, and the other, and slipped back through the sliding door to her own room, and into her own bed, assured in the knowledge that they — the two men who were perhaps her best friends — would wake up in each other’s arms feeling as close to complete as humanly possible, and alone in her room, so would she.

Sure enough, when a shard of the early morning sun’s golden light alighted on Reynard’s face, he could feel the warmth of Gascon’s arms wrapped tightly around his waist, Gascon’s hand pressed against his chest, Gascon’s body snug against his back, his nose brushing the dip behind Reynard’s ear, his breaths skating across Reynard’s skin. In short, they were exactly as they had been the first time they’d fallen asleep together, and Reynard was finally waking up in the glow of that glorious night. Sleepily, smiling, he placed his hand over Gascon’s, twined their fingers together, and brought it up to his face. Pressing a lingering kiss into Gascon’s palm, he mumbled, “Happy birthday, Gascon.”

#thronebreaker #thronebreaker fic #Gascon Brossard #Reynard Odo #Queen Meve #Gascon Brossard/Reynard Odo #wrsb #nelipotwrites

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fatefulfaerie · 4 years ago

Text

Guilt

Fic-art trade with @rebuildingkonohaonceagain !! You sent two pictures so here is 2,000 words. I hope you like it!

Trigger Warning: mention of death

The whirring of guardians always made Zelda feel at ease, the way their inner-workings clicked, the way their mechanisms whistled. It was something Zelda felt she understood, and something that gave her great hope in their prospects of victory.

Her pride in the prowess of ancient Sheikah technology could be seen in the way she looked at them now, smiling at their apparent perfection.

The blush on her cheeks, however, came from the knowledge of who was standing behind her, pensive in his duty and yet ever-vigilant of danger. He saw no danger in these skulltula-like machines, and thus allowed Zelda to run excitedly to peer at them with no word of caution passing his lips. Zelda loved looking down from the bridge of her study and seeing the Sheikah’s progress with the Guardians. Although she often felt Hyrule doomed with her sealing power still locked deep inside her, her hope returned when she saw the Guardians or the Divine Beasts.

“Amazing,” she remarked. “We’re at a point now where we can actually control them.”

Zelda turned around to face Link with a smile.

“At this rate, we’ll be well-positioned to defend ourselves, should Calamity Ganon return.”

Link’s expression moved slightly out of its neutrality, betraying Zelda’s expectations of her knight, and yet she welcomed the tease of emotion with open ears.

“Are you sure about that?” Link asked.

Zelda felt something grip her heart, like the cold hand of an Icy Moblin.

“Of…of course I’m sure,” Zelda said. “What…”

“I mean who are you kidding?” Link asked rhetorically, with an edge to his voice Zelda had never heard before. “We all know we’re missing a pretty big piece of the puzzle. Everything else is in line except you. Do you not care about the kingdom?”

Zelda’s eyes stung with betrayal and the cold hand seem to pull her heart down, farther and farther into unknown caverns below the castle.

“Of course I care, Link, what…” Zelda said trying to find her breath. She backed away in fear, her hand meeting the cement ridges of the bridge. “What has gotten into you?”

“I’ve trained all my life,” Link continued, his brow furrowing in his rising anger, “tired myself to constantly better for Hyrule to what? Serve a Princess who sees the Calamity as a joke? Who frolics around and pretends to pray to goddess statues? It’s time to wake up, Your Highness. Own up to your failures and we might even get out of this alive.”

“Link, I…” Zelda said, shaking her head. “You know better than anyone how hard I…”

The ground suddenly shook violently beneath them, Zelda looking down with wide, green eyes to see the bridge under her feet crack.

“Come on,” she heard Link say as he grabbed her hand and started to run towards the innards of the castle, towards perhaps more stable ground.

Yet the floor buckled beneath him at his next step, Link slipping off the bridge, hanging by the hand that connected him to Zelda’s.

They both looked down to what Link was hanging over and Zelda didn’t quite understand what she saw.

It was a large hole, with Calamity Ganon swirling in his own malice like a fish in a small pond of blood.

Link looked back at Zelda, whose gaze was panicked as she started to lose her grip on Link’s hand. She gritted her teeth trying to get a better hold, but it was no use.

Link’s gaze, in contrast, was rather settled for someone whose life was in danger, as if he weren’t surprised in the slightest.

“This is your fault,” he said before Zelda accidentally lost her grip.

“No!” Zelda exclaimed, reaching down with tears in her eyes as Link fell, lost to the darkness of the calamity.

Zelda stood up quickly onto what remained of the bridge, Calamity Ganon’s burning yellow eyes and pig-like snout rising to face her, it’s wispy red and black emanations trailing behind him.

Zelda, with panting, heavy breaths and cheeks endlessly replenished with her tears, held out her hand palm-first towards Calamity Ganon, wishing with all her might that luck would grant her the sealing power she sought, if not the endless years of prayers to cold and unyielding goddess statues.

Yet no power came, even on repeat attempts extending her arm.

Calamity Ganon gave a growling chuckle, smiling insidiously at such a failure.

“Finally,” he said in his groveling voice before surging forward with an open mouth. Zelda crouched in defense, her last resort before darkness succumbed her as well.

She didn’t know where she was falling from or to, nor how long she had been falling or long she had until she met the ground. She had no idea how she was changed from her royal blue dress to her white prayer dress, or what to do about it as the wind whipped through her long, blonde hair, almost tugging at it.

She felt almost dead, like she could fall, float, drift, drop for a hundred years until time became eternity.

She felt herself torn apart, like the Ritos, who pluck the feathers off their deceased before offering the body to the goddess Hylia.

She felt herself chocking on rocks and dirt, like the Gorons, who bury their deceased in the rich grounds of Death Mountain.

She felt herself rocked by unforgiving waves, like the Zora, who dispatch their deceased on a small boat lined with violets.

She felt herself dissipate, like the Gerudo, who burn their deceased to ashes and make them one with the sands.

“Zelda,” She heard a voice echo, surprised she could hear it, surprised someone could still know her, remember her.

“Zelda!” She heard again, louder.

“Zelda!!”

Zelda jolted awake to Link shaking her, Zelda grasping her hands on his arms as she gasped for air.

Her green eyes were absolutely panicked, looking everywhere but at Link, her head twitching like a shaking leaf.

“Zelda,” Link insisted. “Zelda, look at me!”

Link placed his warm hands on either of her cheeks, suddenly aligning her gaze with his with a soft gasp. Her shaky breathing calmed as her eyes filled with recognition, as her ears heard the cracking of a nearby campfire, as her skin felt a blanket fall from her shoulder to her lap.

As soon as Zelda distinguished the line between nightmare and reality, she hurriedly embraced Link, diving her head into the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay,” Link said, clutching the back of her head, her blonde hair entangled in his calloused and yet gentle fingers. “You’re okay.”

He held her and he rocked her as she cried into his tunic, whispering over and over into her ear soothing words that assured her safety, and his safety, and their safety, and their victory, their final long-awaited victory after a hundred years of insurmountable loss.

Link ended up leaning against a nearby tree as he held her in his arms, neither caring at all that their proximity would once, a long time ago, have been scandalous. Their titles were something they were glad to throw away.

Zelda drew circles on Link’s chest as he stared at the campfire, his head leaning on hers.

“Was it like your nightmare last night?” He finally asked, after probably hours of Zelda being awake. Zelda had observed that Link was good at knowing exactly what to say and when to say it.

Zelda nodded against his shoulder, her green eyes sad and frankly haunted, despondent as she lamented her nightmare.

“How do you feel now?” Link asked, looking down at her with a soft, blue gaze.

“Better,” Zelda answered quietly, as if she could barely manage to find her voice. “Safer.”

Link kissed the top of her head before leaning his own head on it again.

“Good,” he said.

A distant cicada started to chirp, Zelda immediately sitting up, ears penned and alerted.

“It’s okay,” Link said as he softly rubbed her arm with the backs of his fingers. “It’s just a bug.”

Zelda’s shoulder deflated from their tense state as she took a calm exhale. She nodded and yet didn’t return back into Link’s hold.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she said.

Link’s gaze moved downward.

“I suspected you might say that,” Link said. “The good thing is that Dorephan doesn’t know we’re coming, and neither does Sidon, turning back is an option. We can always visit Zora’s Domain later.”

The fire crackled as Zelda considered Link’s words, and yet her mind veered off in another direction.

“Do you feel as I do?” Zelda said, turning her head to her shoulder. “This…guilt?”

Link nodded, sitting up.

“I do,” Link responded. “But then I remember what we were able to do because we survived.”

Zelda turned around to face Link, who was distracted by her beauty in the light of the fire until he saw in deep pain in her green eyes.

“Do you ever think I should have died instead of them?” Zelda asked. “Do you think it’s what I deserve? For failing them?”

“No,” Link said with sunken blue eyes and a shaking head. “No. Zelda, we all did the best we could. You know better than anyone how hard it was to unlock your sealing power. Everything was in place. We just ran out of time.”

“So…” Zelda started. “You don’t…blame me?”

“Of course not,” Link answered. “Why would I blame you?”

Zelda lowered her gaze.

“I’ve ran through it all a hundred different ways in my head, over a hundred years and, the loss is always my fault. A hundred different ways it could have gone, a hundred things I could have done different and…it’s always me.”

Zelda looked up at Link, who was shaking his head. He even graced a small smile.

“See, that’s where you are wrong.”

“Am I?”

Link chuckled, bowing his head before he raised it again.

“Who possessed the Guardians?” Link asked. “Was it you?”

“No,” Zelda said matter-of-factly. “That was Calamity Ganon.”

“And the Divine Beasts? Who possessed those?”

“Calamity Ganon,” Zelda answered, not sure what the trick was, what sort of test this was.

“Who came completely unannounced from beneath the castle and started attacking Hyrule by summoning all sorts of monsters?”

“Calamity Ganon,” Zelda answered again. “Link, what are you even getting at? Of course he--”

“Oh,” Zelda, realizing what Link was doing.

“Who saved my life by awakening her sealing power?”

Zelda sighed.

“Me.”

“And who, may I ask kept Calamity Ganon trapped inside the castle for hundreds of years, thus allowing Hyrule to flourish and grow because they were protected.”

Zelda was starting to blush.

“Me, again.” She said.

“And who finally sealed him away once and for all, bringing Hyrule to peace?”

Zelda rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“Me.”

“Nope,” Link said jokingly. “That was all me.”

Zelda scoffed and hit him playfully, them both giggling and laughing.

“All right, I get your point,” she said with a smile. “How do you always know what to say?

Link shrugged.

“Maybe it’s part of being the chosen hero,” Link said, Zelda glaring at him in disbelief with a tipped head. “Hey, you never know.”

Zelda laughed and her heart felt full as she looked into Link’s eyes, that were just as joyful and warm as hers.

They both smiled at the unspoken invitation between them before mutually leaning into each other, meeting their lips in an indulgent kiss that expressed their love.

Link cupped Zelda’s cheeks as they rescinded with a smile borne straight from pure happiness, admiring her for a lingering second before he spoke.

“It’s your choice,” Link said. “Whether we continue our journey to Zora’s Domain. It doesn’t make you weak to wait until you are ready.”

“I know,” Zelda replied, placing her hand where Link’s was on his cheek. “But I’ll have to face Mipha’s father and brother eventually. I would have trepidations no matter what…I think I just need to work through this.”

“Then I’ll do anything I can to help you.”

#zelink #zelda #link #botw #breath of the wild #calamity ganon #hyrule

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phinksimp · 4 years ago

Note

Jealous phinks headcanon please!

Oooooo I love jealous Phinks! Hope you enjoy my little drabble!

You sighed as you walked to the restaurant with your best friend and her boyfriend.

"Y/N, are you sure you don't want to wait for Phinks?"

You shook your head. "I'm pretty sure he won't be coming."

Small arguments were a common occurrence between you two. There was often a lot on Phinks' plate, and he tended to take his frustration out on you. While he wasn't one to get physical with you; he often disregarded your feelings and would say things he didn't truly mean.

To you, it was just "Phinks being Phinks", most of the time. But the last argument over spending too much time at your job had crossed the line for both of you.

"Why do you need to work anyways?! If you ever need anything, all you have to do is tell me and I'll get it for you!" Phinks went to grab your hand, but you quickly slapped it away.

"By 'get it for me', you mean steal it, right?!" You pushed past him to grab your purse. "I don't know what the hell you're doing most of the time...but from now on; I don't want anything from you if it's stolen." You glared at him before walking out the door. "I can't blame you though. What kind of real job could you get with your qualifications? All you're good for is hurting people."

You replayed the argument in your head over and over as you made your way to the restaurant. Part of you knew you had to apologize eventually, but part of you knew you may have gone too far.

"Y/N!"

You turned to see the son of your boss waving as he walked towards you and your friends. He had recently moved from another country to learn under his father, as he would be the one to take over in a few years.

His blue eyes contrasted against his dark black hair and fair skin. His black suit with a slightly unbuttoned white dress shirt showed off his figure. There were several people in the office who had developed a crush on him.

"Oh, hi Charles! Grabbing dinner?"

You hit your friend discreetly on the leg as soon as you felt her nudge you. She whispered out the side of her mouth;

"Woah Y/N, who is this guy?!"

Charles smiled once he caught up to your group. "Yeah, I don't really know this area yet though. Do you have any places you can recommend?"

Your friend chimed in before you could speak.

"We're actually heading to a really good izakaya right now. You're more than welcome to join us!"

You screamed internally, praying he'd say no.

"Why I'd love to!"

You shot your friend a glare as she replied with a wink. She never really took a liking to Phinks, saying she could tell he was "no good" despite anything you would tell her. Of course she would take this opportunity.

You looked back as Charles walked beside you, hoping Phinks would show up.

---

Phinks groaned as he stood outside the restaurant, his hands in the pockets of his tracksuit.

Why the hell am I here? Is this even the right place?

He was still upset over your last argument, but he hated to drag things longer than they needed to be.

He shot up slightly when he saw your friend and her boyfriend step out of the restaurant for a smoke.

Phinks went to approach them, but something told him to keep his distance. He hid behind a wall, listening intently.

"Wow Y/N's new boss is a real catch! Handsome, rich and super nice...unlike no brows." Your friend laughed as she took a puff of her cigarette. "I think he likes her too. I hope she wakes up. It's not like Phinks is the type to get married, and it's what she's dreamt of since we were kids! 3 years and not even a hint of anything happening. I don't know how she tolerates him!"

Phinks clenched his fists as his blood went cold. He pondered for a minute; debating whether or not he should bother looking.

He took a deep breath before glancing through the window.

There you were, and there he was; his arm casually draped along the back of the bench seat behind you.

Phinks had half a mind to kill him right there and then.

He peeked at the window once again, his heart dropping when he watched you laugh.

It had been a while since he had seen you smile like that..

He grit his teeth, thinking about what to do. His jealousy was beginning to grow, and he knew he would go off in a blind rage if he let it get to him..

His body instinctively began to wind his right arm, but he stopped immediately. Instead turning back home to your apartment.

Phinks remembered you mentioning your new boss in passing, but never took much notice to it.

The man was successful, handsome, well mannered and well dressed.

Everything he was not.

All you're good for his hurting people.

Phinks looked up at the sky, your words repeating in his head.

You're right, Y/N. That's all I'm really good for...

-------

You did your make up in the bathroom as you checked your cellphone for the time. Charles would be picking you up for a corporate meeting in 20 minutes.

It had been 3 months since your argument.

3 months since you last saw or heard from Phinks.

It drove you mad that there was no way for you to contact him. He had left his cellphone at the apartment and you didn't know anyone he worked with.

You hoped he had just been called away for a job suddenly.

But you figured that what you said was unforgivable. You knew that despite his tough and cold demeanor; Phinks was a sensitive soul.

Maybe he wasn't coming back this time.

You wanted to apologize for what you said. It wasn't true. There was so much good to him that even he failed to see at times.

You quickly packed your purse as you made your way outside, not wanting to make your boss wait.

Your heart dropped as soon as you walked out the doors of your building.

There he was.

He wore a grey suit with a white dress shirt.

You panicked when you saw his arm in a sling, and his black eye.

Your body shook as you approached him, mixed feelings of guilt, relief and worry overwhelmed you.

"Phinks..."

He adjusted a duffle bag along his shoulder as he shot you a soft smile.

"Where are you going, Y/N?"

The question took you by surprise. "I'm going to work. My boss, well the son of the boss is picking me up."

Phinks felt his blood begin to boil. The images of you laughing with Charles in the restaurant making his jaw clench. "Like hell he is!"

Phinks made his way over to you, wrapping his uninjured arm around your waist as he pulled you into a kiss. He had missed you over the past few months, his motivation being the goal of never wanting to see you with Charles or any other man again.

He finally pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath.

"Quit your job, Y/N."

You pulled away completely in a knee jerk reaction to his words. "No way! What's wrong with you?! I don't even know where you've been! I still have bills--"

"I've got enough money for us."

He placed the duffel bag in front of you.

Your heart sank, expecting to find wads of cash.

What did he do this time?!

Instead, Phinks pulled out an envelope with a book.

You took it hesitantly, your eyes widening as you read the pages. Several deposit entries filling each page. "What the... you were--"

Phinks nodded his head. "Yupp. Heaven's Arena." He laughed. "None of that money was stolen. So you can save your breath." He made his way over to you, flipping to the first page of the bank book as he held your left hand. "The account is under your name, just in case anything happens to me. I'm sure there's more than enough in there." He placed his hand on your face. "You were right-- hurting people is all I'm good for."

"Phinks..."

The blonde haired man smirked. "Would your new boss give you all this?!"

Just as he said that, Charles pulled up in his car. He got out immediately as soon as he saw Phinks. "Y/N! Is everything alright here?!"

Phinks stepped in front of you, his uninjured hand now in a fist. "Who the hell are you?" Phinks lied, knowing exactly who this man was.

Charles cleared his throat. "Well, my name is Charles and Y/N is one of my associates."

Phinks huffed. "Never heard of you." He went to wrap his arm around your waist. "And besides, Y/N doesn't work for you anymore."

Before you could say anything, Phinks pulled you in closer. "Sorry for the inconvenience, pal. If you'll excuse us; we've got a wedding to plan."

You gasped as Phinks turned you towards the apartment, holding your left hand as the large diamond on your finger shimmered in the sunlight. "I'll make sure to send you an invite, Chuck."

"Phinks, when... what..." your mind was in shambles as you tried to process everything that was happening.

Is this his way of proposing? Are we engaged?!

Phinks spanked you, snapping you out of your trance. "You know, I'm still not over what you said. You're going to have to make it up to me, like a good little wife."

The tone of Phinks' voice made your temperature rise, as you knew exactly what he meant.

Charles stood there dumb founded as he watched the two of you walk off.

"Wow, that's one hell of a man if I ever did see one."

#phinks #phinks magcub #hxh #phinks magkav #phantom troupe #hunter x hunter #phinks x reader #softphinks

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sillyguyhotline · 4 years ago

Note

Prompt: Sara, having voted for Shin to die, in the classroom (or lab?) taking Joe's dog keychain

“Alright, it looks like this room is all clear,” Sara spoke up, just loud enough to alert the two allies who were trailing behind her. Ranmaru, bandaged hands shoved lazily into his pockets, gave a quick nod, and Keiji scratched his neck in assent.

She moved down the hallway, still rather cautious as to what traps could be sprung at a moment’s notice, finger poised carefully on the map. She couldn’t quite discern what kind of room was up ahead, and that only heightened her anxiety about what she was about to face… but nevertheless, she stepped a steady foot into the room.

Sitting before her was a painfully familiar sight, dredging up memories that, in any other circumstances, could have been fond. It was her old math classroom, without a doubt, the one she’d spent years sitting in with Joe sitting right beside her. She’d resented it once, because Ryoko wasn’t in the class with her and she was seated next to the most painfully cheerful person in their grade.

Oh, how she’d feared receiving endless mockery from Joe or her other classmates; after all, Joe was so peppy, so lovely, and she’d spent her school years stewing quietly in the corner of the room.

It felt silly to look back at those fears now, after how long Joe had been her best friend and after how many secrets and wonderful moments she’d entrusted him with.

It felt even sillier to look back on those regrets now that he was gone. She’d been so sure that she would have all the time in the world to make amends for those fears of him, that she’d have all the time in the world to shake him awake when he dozed off in math class or to fall asleep on the school rooftop during lunch as he kept a watchful eye on her, knowing how badly she needed that sleep.

Sara had been a very future-focused person, a stark contrast from her cheerful best friend, but he’d often shattered her intricate plans for university with his own proposals for how they’d live life after high school. Karaoke and doner kebabs every day, he’d suggest, or they could volunteer at the animal shelter.

“Imagine how much free time we’ll have when we’ve graduated,” Joe would daydream at lunch. “And we’ll have money, too! We can do whatever the hell we want, all day long, and nobody’s gonna be there to stop us.”

“You know, we’ll have to get a job in order to have money,” Sara would always counter, looking forward to the way his face would crinkle with disappointment at that response.

“Not necessarily,” Joe would say back, overdramatically raising his finger. “We could get a job play-testing things at the arcade and then we could spend our days doing that.”

Sara would roll her eyes and flick a chip crumb at him, and then the two of them would devolve into raucous laughter that couldn’t help but attract stares from their classmates. They’d taken the future so lightly, always believing that the only things laying ahead of them were university and work and retirement. They’d never once imagined a future that didn’t have the other in it.

But, Sara realized as she stood paralyzed on the threshold of this relic from a past she’d never be able to return to, some futures simply aren’t meant to be.

Had Joe come to that realization at any point, or had he died with peace in his heart? She couldn’t help but hope for the latter.

“Sara? You doin’ alright?” Keiji’s voice pierced through the room, and she glanced over her should to find him fixing her with a very concerned stare. She knew exactly what he was thinking, knew that it had probably taken him a mere glance around the room to realize what thoughts it was meant to bring.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She gave a confident nod, as much for her own sake as his, and stepped into the room. There was moonlight twinkling through the windows, almost a carbon copy of how the classroom had looked when she’d woken in it the night of the kidnapping. She’d always thought the school had looked a little odd in the darkness, a little too cold and empty for her tastes. Now, though, with the pang of loss still stinging through her brain, it seemed even colder and more unforgiving.

She stepped carefully through the room, fingers gliding over each desk as she walked past, trying to memorize the sensation of the grooves of wood against her hands. Slowly, carefully, she approached her desk... and found that there was a bookbag neatly perched in the seat right behind hers.

His seat, his bookbag.

“Hey, uh, you want me to check that out for you?” Ranmaru was quick to step forward and make the offer, face creased with worry. How much had he been told about the events of the game? Had he seen the portrait of the bloody boy in the same uniform as Sara’s and put two and two together?

Sara hesitated, then… “yeah, go ahead.”

Ranmaru nodded solemnly, then reached into the bag and rummaged around in it before pulling out a very familiar object. “What’s this? Some sort of… dog keychain?”

It was remarkable how different it felt to see the keychain without the plague of hallucinations constantly weighing on Sara’s shoulders. No more bloody apparitions stirring in Sara’s subconscious, no more nauseating guilt threatening to spill out. Just a heavy ache in her heart at the sight of all that was left of her best friend.

“Did this… did this belong to that Joe guy or somethin’?” Ranmaru gripped at the keychain a little tighter, turning it around in his hand to examine it, and there was a clench at Sara’s heart.

“Give me that, Ranmaru.” Keiji’s voice came out cold. “Sara, don’t look at it.”

“No… no, it’s fine.” Could they hear how raw her voice was? “I don’t have to deal with the hallucinations anymore. It’s alright.”

The other two of her allies fell deadly silent, and she could only pray that they would listen to her. It was true that the real keychain was still nestled snugly in her pocket, close to her heart where nobody could ever hope to hurt him again… but this was Joe. Copy or not, she’d grown fond of seeing that keychain in Joe’s pocket, knowing that it was a symbol of all his affection for her.

He couldn’t carry the keychain to graduation anymore. It had fallen into the timeless garbage pile of shattered promises and futures that would never come to be. But she would do her best to make sure that she kept his promise alive, even if he couldn’t.

“Ranmaru… please give that to me. It’s very… very special to me.”

Hesitantly, Ranmaru handed the keychain over, and she was swift to pocket it. Perhaps she’d be able to give one to Ryoko, as cheap as it would seem, and they’d both be able to cherish their own individual remnants of their extinguished sunshine.

“Can… can you guys leave the room for a bit? I know there’s more to explore, but… can I have a few minutes alone?” Her eyes were still fixated on the carefully-carved wood of the desk, refusing to meet theirs.

After a long, weighty pause, Keiji spoke up. “...Alright. But call out for help if anything happens. And don’t take too long. We still need to catch Midori, alright?”

“Alright.”

She waited with bated breath until their solid, clicking footsteps faded away and the door fell shut behind them… and sat down at her desk.

The silence of the room consumed her, broken only by the gentle whistle of automated wind pushing against the windows. They were far too underground, surely, for the night sky to be authentic, but even the quiet ambiance brought its own flavor of peace. Even in her own quiet solitude, she felt foolish tracing her fingers over the wood of the desk, wishing so stupidly that he might be there to listen to her.

“Hey, Joe,” she spoke up quietly. “I know… I promised I wouldn’t cry over you. I know you’ve never liked to see me cry, I know it makes you miserable… I’m sorry. I hope, wherever you are, if you can even hear me right now, I haven’t made you miserable. I certainly hope you aren’t punching yourself.” She let out a quiet, heavy laugh.

Oh, the burden was too much to bear, and she quickly reached for the dog keychain, the one she knew was real, the one snugly nestled up to her heart. She gazed into the beady eyes glinting in the moonlight, trying to reclaim her courage… and saw only his smile in that plastic one.

Joe’s dopey, foolish smile, the smile that was such a perfect brand of stupid that only he’d managed to master it. The smile he’d given her whenever he’d told a good joke that managed to make her laugh, or when something genuinely good happened and he was practically bursting with joy in anticipation of telling her.

She hated that the last time she’d seen that smile, it was bloodstained and heavy with exhaustion.

It was so foolish, that out of all of the things that could possibly still haunt her, his smile had done the trick. The clatter of the hairpin on the floor, the way she’d spun hoping upon hoping that maybe he was still alive, maybe she could salvage him and they could go home alive and happy… only to be greeted with that dumb, beautiful smile. Drained of life, eyes dull with the promise of death, mouth dripping blood, he’d beamed up at her with such happiness pushing against the pain… and then she’d watched him die, still smiling.

Stupid, stupid Joe Tazuna, who could smile even in the face of death if only so his best friend wouldn’t cry.

And she’d failed him.

She’d taken the hairpin, though, even blinded by tears and grief. It was just a bobby pin, one of the many he’d use to keep his hair up all day. She couldn’t begin to recount the amount of times she’d slept over at his house and watched him style his hair with gel and pins, grinning when he’d catch her eye in the mirror and wink at her. He’d always offered to style her hair, but she’d always refused, joking that she didn’t want her hair to look like his and giggling when he gasped in mock offense.

Now, though, her motions were slow as she closed her eyes and reached her hands up towards her head. Carefully, tenderly, she slipped the hairpin into her hair, tightly securing her braid. She could almost fool herself into thinking he was the one sitting behind her, doing her hair with such care and precision.

“I miss you so much, Joe,” she said, eyes closed. “God, I miss you more than I’ve missed anything in the world. I’m so sorry I couldn’t get us out alive. I know… wherever you are, you’re probably happier. I guess this was just never meant to be, huh?” Her voice broke. “It hurts to sit here and know you’re not sitting behind me, to know you’re never gonna sit behind me again. I know you’re gone, and I know I shouldn’t be crying over me, I should be smiling so you’re happy.”

She wiped her tears away with her sleeve, staining it a darker blue. “We’ve broken so many promises, haven’t we? But… I’m going to get out alive, and I’m going to tell Ryoko what happened, and I’m going to carry this keychain to graduation. That’s one promise I refuse to break.”

The tears took over, then, but as she cried the room grew a little warmer. For a fleeting second, there was the phantom weight of a warm, bangle-wearing hand on her shoulder. As she stood up, though, it dissolved, leaving only the whisper of her words behind and the vague echos of affection in her ears.

#yttd #your turn to die #joe tazuna #sara chidouin #ranmaru kageyama #keiji shinogi #My fic #yttd fic #depressobean’s asks #nacrene archaeologist

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slutforagoodsmut · 4 years ago

Text

Is That Alright? (Lucius Malfoy)

Song: Damien Rice- 9 Crimes

Phoenix Malfoy sat in her room, strumming her guitar, looking out the window. She was back at Malfoy Manner, had just finished her third year at Hogwarts, and she was bored out of her mind. It was hot outside, humid and sticky. Her parents had important business to attend to, and Draco was most likely off doing something with Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, so it was only her. Ugh, Draco. Just thinking of her evil twin made her sick. She absolutely hated her brother. He was arrogant and spiteful. Cruel and selfish. Draco was a down right bully. Especially to her. Potter thought he had it bad? That was nothing compared to what Draco did to Phoenix. He was cold to her. Would push her down, laugh at her, make fun of her, call her names, anything that made her feel worthless. Draco made sure he told Phoenix that he hated her every day. Did everything and anything that a brother shouldn't do.

Anyways, Phoenix couldn't take being cooped up in her room any longer, so she headed downstairs. It was rather cold, sending chills down her back. It was quiet. It was lonely. But it was her home. She wandered into the family room, where the grand piano sat. It was big, and well, grand of course. Black and shiny, with glossy onyx and ivory keys, and a fancy big gold 'M' on the top. She sat on the black shiny bench. Phoenix ran her hand over the dusty keys, her slender fingers collecting the dust. You would think that of all things in the Malfoy house, the piano would be kept neat and tidy. But it wasn't. It was just sitting there, rotting away, not being used for what it's suppose to. She hasn't heard the piano in years. Last time she heard it, she was nine years old. Lucius used to play it for her all the time...Yeah...used to. Phoenix straightened her back and sighed softly, she clenched and unclenched her fingers, stretching them out. Her fingers shook a bit as they started to play a soft tune she had made up not so long ago. Music filled the room, before a delicate and soft voice chimed in.

'Leave me out with the waste,'

'This is not what I do.'

'It's the wrong kind of place,'

'To be thinking of you'

'It's the wrong time'

'For somebody new'

'It's a small crime'

'And I've got no excuse'

'Is that alright? Yeah...'

'Give my gun away when it's loaded'

'Is that alright? Yeah...'

'If you don't shoot it how am I suppose to hold it'

'Is that alright? Yeah...'

'Give my gun away when it's loaded'

'Is that alright? Yeah...'

'With you?'

Her fingers seemed to move on their own, like she didn't have to put any effort into it. With half lidded eyes Phoenix could feel them getting glassy. She closed them, and took a deep breath, feeling her throat get a bit tighter and her chest heavier. But she continued on with the words, her voice becoming a bit more audible.

'Leave me out with the waste,'

'This is not what I do.'

'It's the wrong kind of place,'

'To be cheating on you.'

'It's the wrong time'

'But he's pulling me through'

'It's a small crime'

'And I've got no excuse'

'Is that alright? Yeah...'

'Give my gun away when it's loaded'

'Is that alright? Yeah...'

'If you don't shoot it how am I suppose to hold it'

'Is that alright? Yeah...'

'Give my gun away when it's loaded'

'Is that alright,'

'With you?'

'Is that alright? Yeah...'

'Give my gun away when its loaded'

'Is that alright? Yeah...'

'If you don't shoot it how am I suppose to hold it'

'Is that alright? Yeah...'

'Give my gun away when it's loaded'

'Is that alright,'

'With you?'

Phoenix took a quick deep breath, tears pooling in her icy grey eyes.

'Is that alright? Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaahhh...'

'Is that alright,'

'With you?'

'No...'

A tear rolled down her cheek

Her voice broke. Two more tears came, and she swallowed hard, as she continued to play. The song had then ended. She took a shaky breath and she bit her lip. "What happened to us? What happened to our closeness? What happened to 'I love you'? What happened to 'I need you'? What happened to you and I, dad...?" Phoenix asked out loud to no one and shook her head. She closed her eyes, feeling a lump form in her throat. She breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. Her breath rippled as she held her stomach.

A hand then rested on her shoulder. She gasped and her body jumped, immediately turning around. His grey icy eyes stared down at her. His long white blonde hair slicked back. He stood tall with pride, his cobra walking stick right next to him. Lucius Malfoy. Phoenix's eye widened. "F...F-Father?" she asked looking up at him, and twinge of fear stirring in her head and stomach. Oh god he was standing there the whole time, hasn't he! He heard me, didn't he! "I-I...I thought I would play a little..." she looked down. "No one was home...." she mumbled. Lucius suddenly kneeled down in front of Phoenix. He gripped her shoulders firmly. He looked into her eyes, before she moved her head down.

"I'm sorry -- I'm sorry I'm not a Slytherin -- I'm sorry I'm a Ravenclaw -- I'm sorry I hate that your a Death Eater -- I'm sorry I hate being a pureblood -- I'm sorry I can't stand Draco -- I'm sorry I'm friends with Harry -- I'm sorry I don't make you proud -- I'm so, so sorry I'm fascinated by muggles--I'm sorry I'm not perfect like Draco -- I'm sorry you don't care about me -- I'm sorry you hate me--I'm sorry I don't exist to you anymore..." She blurted out in one whole breath. Lucius stared at his daughter with both a stunned and pained expression. Phoenix covered her face with her hands as she began to cry, profusely apologizing. "I'm so sorry I need you. I'm sorry I miss the old you. I'm sorry I want our relationship back to the way it was. I'm sorry I want you in my life. I'm sorry I miss the times we had together. I'm sorry I'm your daughter. I'm sorry that I'm weak. I'm sorry for being a pathetic little-"

"Phoenix!" he yelled, taking her hands away from her face "stop...please," he begged his daughter, a hard lump in his throat. Black eyeliner smudged under her eyes, dark tears slipping down her cheeks. She looked up, but closed her all red and puffy eyes. "...look at me..." Lucius spoke in the most softest tone she ever heard in her entire life.

She opened her eyes, shocked at the way he was talking to her. At the way he acknowledged her. She looked into her father's eyes. He...he's...no, he can't be

Lucius' voice was so steady and calm. "I want you to listen to me," He took off his gloves and cupped Phoenix's cheek, wiping away the drying tears. "I am proud you are my daughter, Phoenix. I am proud that your a Ravenclaw. I would risk anything for you--protect you--" Phoenix kept quiet. Lucius' lips curled downwards, furrowing his eyebrows sadly. "But I'm failing to do that. It's my job to keep you safe. It's my job to protect you, as a father should. I'm suppose to take the pain away, not give it to you," He looked into her eyes. Oh those innocent pleading eyes. She was hurt and he knew that. He neglected her for the past three years, and he thought he was doing the right thing. He never wanted her to find out that he was a Death Eater, nor ever Draco. And when she did one night while he was chatting with Severus Snape, his only reaction was to cut the connection between them. He never wanted his children in harms way--never ever in his life, but his stupidity and recklessness got in the way. He loved his children equally, but what he did to his own daughter was unforgivable. It wasn't just. It was wrong and dumb.

He felt the tears come down, covered his grey cold eyes as tears pooled over and over. He turned his face away, ashamed of himself, as he choked on a painful sob. Lucius covered his face with his hands as his head hung low so Phoenix couldn't see him like this. Phoenix watched her father, in absolute shock. Never has she ever seen him cry. Never. Never has she seen him in this state. She didn't know what to do as she watched her father cry out. His shoulders shook as he whimpered quietly at her feet. "I don't know if you could ever forgive me, Phoenix," he choked "I really don't know if you should," he paused, before he weeped again. "But I'm sorry," he whispered, shaking his head, "I'm so sorry..."

A new set of tears flooded Phoenix's eyes, biting her lip, "Father," she said gently, before getting on her knees. "Daddy..." The young girl grabbed her father and pulled him close to her, throwing her arms around him. Lucius wrapped his arms around her small figure with a tight grip, resting his head on her shoulder. She shut her eyes tightly and hid her face in the crook of his neck, clutching his robe. He ran a hand through his daughter's hair, swaying her side to side.

"I'm proud to be called your father. I'm proud of what you've accomplished so far in your youth." he kissed her cheek, feeling her hot tears on his lips. "And don't you ever think different..." Phoenix nodded her head. "I love you Phoenix--both you and Draco very, very much and I would do anything for you. I love you more than anything else in the world,"

"Do...do you love us more than serving the Dark Lord? " she whispered reluctantly.

"Oh god yes! So much more than being the Dark Lord's servent,"

It took Phoenix a few seconds to comprehend what was happening. She was on the floor being cradled in her father's arms, Lucius Malfoy, pouring her heart out on him. His actions right now were very out of Lucius Malfoy character, oh yes indeed. He was such a snarky, mean person, thought highly of himself, made sure everyone knew of his pureblood status, almost like a older version of Draco you could say. He never showed the side of a loving father. Never. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She buried her head into his shoulder and Lucius continued stroke her hair. "I love you too Dad," she started "more than you could imagine..."

'Is that alright?'

'Yes...'

#lucius malfoy #harry potter #oneshot #draco malfoy #father x daughter #that last tag sounds wrong #ignore me lmfao #angsty #always angsty

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