#truly dictated my angst at a young age

[midnightfanatics]

[salvawhores-world]

Benedict Bridgerton X OC PART 1

Benedict Bridgerton x Helen Ashford

Warnings - infidelity angst, Colin and his dramatics, Bridgerton siblings banter.

A/N - This is my first time ever writing anything I initially started off with a small idea of imagining Benedict in an arranged marriage and now I have a whole story dedicated to him with two parts. I love him he’s my comfort character

Benedict Bridgerton was a man of many talents, but it was his passion for art that truly set him apart. From a young age, he had a natural talent for sketching and painting, and he spent countless hours lost in his own world, creating masterpieces that would never see the light of day.

He longed to pursue art as a career, to create something that would leave a lasting impression on the world.

But such dreams were not meant for someone of his station. His family had other plans for him, plans that involved a respectable marriage and a career in politics.

As the second eldest son of the Bridgerton family, Benedict had always known that he would be expected to marry and carry on the family line. However, the recent marriage of his older brother Anthony to Kate had made the prospect of Benedict's own marriage all the more pressing.

Benedict's mother, Violet, couldn't help but worry about her son. She knew that he had a passion for art and a desire to pursue a career as an artist, but she also knew that his duty to the family would come first. She feared that the pressure of marriage and starting a family would stifle his creative pursuits and leave him feeling unfulfilled.

Violet had seen it happen to too many women of her own generation, and she didn't want the same fate to befall her beloved son. She had tried to broach the subject with Benedict, but he was always quick to deflect the conversation. He didn't want to burden his family with his own worries and concerns, and he certainly didn't want to disappoint them by admitting that he wasn't ready for marriage just yet.

But as the Bridgerton family continued to socialize and attend events, the pressure on Benedict only grew. He couldn't escape the constant chatter about eligible young ladies and potential matches, and he found himself withdrawing more and more into his art as a way to cope.

Violet watched her son with a heavy heart, knowing that she couldn't protect him from the expectations of society forever. She only hoped that he would find a way to balance his duty to the family with his own desires and passions, and that he would be able to find happiness on his own terms.

Eloise, her heart pounding with both curiosity and courage, confronted her mother about the discussion she had overheard between her and Anthony as they strolled together through the grand halls of their estate.

The words tumbled out of her lips in a burst of audacity, "I just heard you and Anthony talking about Benedict's marriage, but as far as I know, he isn't courting anyone, not even this season."

Violet Bridgerton, her mother, paused for a moment, her eyes holding a glimmer of understanding and a touch of nostalgia.

She gently took Eloise's arm, her voice carrying the weight of experience and wisdom as she responded, "Oh, my dear Eloise, sometimes in life, love takes its own course. It isn't always about falling in love but rather finding love, staying in love, and then realizing you have fallen ever so deeply."

"What do you mean, Mother?" Eloise inquired, her voice tinged with both curiosity and skepticism.

Violet smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes, as they continued their leisurely walk through the opulent estate. What I mean, my dearest, is that sometimes life presents us with unexpected twists and turns. It's entirely possible for Benedict to embark on an arranged marriage, a path dictated by tradition and duty, rather than one fueled by romantic notions."

Eloise burst into laughter, her mirth bubbling forth uncontrollably. The sound echoed through the corridors, startling her mother and causing heads to turn in their direction. Violet stared at her daughter, her expression a mix of surprise and concern.

"Forgive me, Mother," Eloise managed to say between fits of laughter, attempting to regain her composure. "It's just that the idea of Benedict, our dear Benedict, surrendering to an arranged marriage seems utterly preposterous."

Violet's brows knitted together, her concern deepening. "Eloise, this is no laughing matter. Arranged marriages have been a part of our society for centuries, and they have their own intricacies and complexities."

Eloise wiped away tears of laughter, her amusement slowly subsiding as she recognized her mother's earnestness. "I understand, Mother, and I apologize for my outburst. It's just... Benedict, surrendering his heart to an arranged union? It feels inconceivable, given his free-spirited nature and disdain for convention."

Violet's lips curved into a gentle smile, a touch of mischief dancing in her eyes. "Ah, my dear Eloise, that is the beauty of life. It often surprises us, revealing facets of our loved ones that we never imagined existed. Perhaps there is more to Benedict's story than what meets the eye."

As they continued their walk, Eloise pondered her mother's words, her mind filled with possibilities and newfound curiosity. The notion of Benedict, the eternal wanderer of passions, embracing an arranged marriage felt like an enigma waiting to be unraveled. With a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

As fate continued to weave its intricate threads through the lives of the Bridgerton siblings, it seemed that each of them had fallen into the embrace of classic romance tropes.

Daphne, the eldest daughter, had embarked on a journey of fake dating, her heart entangled in a web of pretense. Anthony, the protective older brother, had found love in the most unlikely of places, as old enemies blossomed into passionate lovers. Colin, the carefree and curious sibling, had discovered the beauty of a slow-burning romance with his dearest friend.

And now, it appeared to be Benedict's turn to dance within the realms of yet another timeless trope – the search for love within the confines of an arranged marriage. Fate had taken hold of his destiny, leading him down a path strewn with the delicate petals of duty and tradition.

In the midst of uncertainty, Benedict sought solace in his passions, losing himself in the strokes of his paintbrush and the whispers of his thoughts. With each stroke, he poured his longing and hopes onto canvas, the art becoming a testament to his desire for a love that transcended convention.

Entering the drawing room, Benedict found Anthony engrossed in a stack of papers, his face clouded with frustration, while Kate stood nearby, arms folded tightly across her chest, a deep furrow etched upon her brow. The tension in the room was palpable.

“Must you always interfere?" Kate's voice carried a hint of exasperation, her words laced with a touch of defiance.

Anthony sighed heavily, his gaze meeting Kate's with equal determination. "Of course, I must. Benedict is my brother, and it is my duty to guide and protect him."

Kate's eyes flashed with a mix of concern and frustration. "But shouldn't you let him be, Anthony? What happened to his dreams of applying to art colleges? You can't simply dismiss his passion."

Anthony remained silent, his lips pressed tightly together, the weight of responsibility weighing upon him.

"Viscount Anthony Bridgerton!" Kate's voice rang out, her frustration reaching its peak as she snatched a paper from her husband's hand.

“Kathani," Anthony finally spoke, his voice measured and controlled. "He is my brother, and I must prioritize what I believe is best for him, regardless of his personal inclinations."

Kate scoffed, her eyes filled with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief, before turning on her heel and storming out of the room, leaving Benedict standing in the doorway, a witness to the clash of wills between his brother and sister-in-law.

Benedict struggled to make sense of their heated exchange, the words and emotions swirling in his mind like an abstract painting yet to be deciphered. He longed to understand what they were discussing, how his art and aspirations were entangled in their impassioned debate.

Benedict sauntered into the grand main hall, where Eloise sat engrossed in her book, Colin and Hyacinth fiercely battling each other in a game of chess. The servants scurried about, setting up tea and cakes with an air of anticipation.

"Didn't Daphne and her little one just bid us adieu?" Benedict mused, his voice filled with curiosity.

Eloise, barely lifting her gaze from the pages, responded with nonchalance, "Oh, indeed! Daphne and her precious offspring, the never-ending tale that keeps us entertained. That THING’S face hasn't changed in moons!"

Colin erupted into laughter, only to be silenced by a stern glare from their mother, Violet. "Eloise, enough of your quips. And Colin, my dear, stop being the instigator," Violet scolded, her tone laced with maternal authority.

Colin gasped, feigning innocence. "Mother, 'twas Eloise who spoke of young Auggie as if he were a lifeless object. Why am I always the one caught in the crossfire?”

Eloise playfully continued to tease Colin, and he retaliated with equal fervor. Benedict contemplated joining the banter, a mischievous glint in his eye, but his mind remained consumed by the earlier events. He was barely aware of the chatter around him.

"Eloise, Colin, enough of your bickering. Lady Danbury might grace us with her presence any moment now," Violet interjected, busy arranging the crockery with precision. "Both of you, vacate the hall. I have an affair of great importance to discuss with Lady Danbury in utmost privacy."

Eloise stubbornly protested, "But I'm at the climax of this novel! Can't you see, Mother? Leave me be!" Violet shot Eloise a pointed look, conveying her wishes through a mere expression.

With an exasperated sigh, Eloise reluctantly closed her book, muttering under her breath, "May the heavens save us from such tyranny," before reluctantly exiting the room.

Violet then turned her attention to Colin and Hyacinth, adopting a commanding tone. "Colin, Hyacinth, must I resort to written instructions to enforce obedience?" The siblings sprang into action, hastily collecting their chess pieces, aware of their mother's unwavering authority.

"Benedict, my dear, one shouldn't expect their aged mother to repeat herself, now should they?" Violet quipped, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Benedict nodded, a hint of amusement in his eyes, as he made his exit from the hall.

Lady Danbury gracefully entered the room, her presence commanding attention. "Violet, my dear, I believe I have unraveled the reason behind this conversation of ours," she stated, delicately sipping her tea.

“Agatha, my son," Violet began to explain, but Lady Danbury interjected with a mischievous smile, "Ah, the talented artist that he is. Such brilliance is a rarity in this day and age."

Violet, perplexed by Lady Danbury's remark, followed her gaze outside the window, where Benedict sat on a swing, lost in his thoughts. Violet's eyes widened in realization as she turned back to Lady Danbury. "You have someone in mind, don't you?" she inquired, her voice filled with curiosity.

“Lady Danbury leaned forward, a glint of excitement in her eyes. "Indeed, my dear Violet. I know of a young lady named Helen Ashford. She possesses all the qualities that would make her a perfect match for Benedict. Beauty, grace, and a spirit that matches his own. They would create a remarkable union."

Violet's brow furrowed as she contemplated the idea. "An arranged marriage for Benedict? But will he accept such an arrangement willingly?" she questioned, her concern evident.

Lady Danbury chuckled softly. "Ah, my dear Violet, love has a way of blossoming even in the most unexpected circumstances”

Violet's eyes sparkled with intrigue. "You truly believe they would be a good match?"

Lady Danbury nodded, her conviction unwavering. "Indeed, my dear friend. Their shared passions, their complementary spirits, it is a pairing meant to be. With a gentle nudge and a little encouragement, their love story could unfold like a beautiful tapestry.

Helen, my dear sister, you must consider marriage someday," Earl Henry Ashford persistently attempted to engage in conversation with his headstrong sibling, as he had done countless times before.

Helen glanced up from her musical notes, her determination evident as she dropped her quill.

And I never claimed I wouldn't, brother. Find me a suitable match and marry me off if you must. After all, I was born for it, was I not? What I refuse, however, is to seek a love match and hope to find true love within the bounds of marriage," she asserted firmly, making her stance clear.

Henry attempted to explain his perspective, hoping to change her mind. "How can you perceive being in love as a negative thing simply because of one unfortunate incident?" he questioned.

Look at our king and queen, we all aspire to have a love like theirs," Henry argued, his tone filled with conviction, as if hoping to sway Helen's viewpoint.

Helen's eyes narrowed with a hint of pain and defiance. "The incident you so casually refer to was our mother, Henry," she retorted sharply.

“And speaking of our king and queen, have you not noticed the loneliness that engulfs our queen? I would rather enter into an arranged marriage than embark on a path of self-destruction," she declared, her voice laced with bitterness. With that, she abruptly rose from her seat and stormed out of the room, leaving Henry to contemplate her words.

It was a difficult matter for Helen. Her parents had shared a passionate love, a union that seemed unbreakable. They adorned each other with affection, creating a celestial symphony of devotion.

However, tragedy struck when, at the tender age of fourteen, Helen discovered her father's lifeless body in their backyard. He had taken his own life upon learning of her mother's infidelity.

Since that fateful day, Helen had learned that no amount of love could ever fill the void or shield against heartbreak. She held a deep resentment towards her mother, who had abandoned Helen and her brother, leaving young Henry burdened with the responsibilities of an Earl at the tender age of nineteen.

The moon cast a soft glow over the tranquil Bridgerton estate as Eloise sought solace in the hidden depths of the backyard. The late hour and the veil of darkness concealed her secret indulgence—a cigarette, clandestinely lit to calm her restless mind.

Unbeknownst to her, Benedict had noticed her absence from the drawing room and followed the flickering ember of her vice. He found her, a solitary figure enveloped by the shadows, and approached her with cautious steps.

Eloise," Benedict called out, his voice carrying a blend of concern and curiosity. She turned, startled by his sudden presence, and quickly tried to hide the evidence of her forbidden vice. Benedict, ever perceptive, arched an eyebrow but said nothing, extending his hand to take the pack of cigarettes from her. Eloise exhaled deeply, grateful that her brother had discovered her secret rather than their ever-watchful mother.

Benedict sought answers, and he knew Eloise held the key. After all, Eloise Bridgerton always possessed knowledge, an understanding of everything. "Would you care to enlighten me?" he inquired gently

Eloise sighed with a sense of relief, extending the pack of cigarettes to him. "What troubles you, Eloise?" Benedict pressed, his tone laced with weariness.

Eloise feigned confusion, attempting to divert the conversation. "What troubles me? Is it the fact that I will be out next season? Or perhaps the reality that I never had the chance to pursue my studies? Or maybe it's the secret betrayal of my childhood best friend, concealed for who knows how long," she rambled, trying to steer clear of the true topic at hand.

Benedict grew impatient, sensing her avoidance. "You know perfectly well that is not what I am asking," he stated firmly. Eloise let out an awkward chuckle, well aware that Violet would be furious if she discovered their conversation. "Haha, a funny thing indeed. So, Mama intends to arrange a marriage for you. That is why Lady Danbury paid us a visit this afternoon," she revealed.

Benedict's face contorted with disbelief. His mother knew all too well that he desired a love match, to marry for love alone. "Nonsense! What nonsense are you speaking, Eloise?" he protested.

Eloise, weary of the situation, replied, "It was something about staying in love, a string of nonsensical ideas. But Mother is determined, Benedict."

Benedict ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts swirling in a sea of uncertainty. He had always envisioned a marriage filled with passion, a partner with whom he could share his deepest desires and aspirations. The idea of surrendering his fate to an arranged union felt stifling, restricting the freedom he longed for. Yet, he couldn't deny the weight of his family's expectations and the duty he felt to honor them.

As the moonlight bathed them in its ethereal glow, Benedict and Eloise found themselves at a crossroads—a delicate balance between tradition and personal desires. Little did they know that their conversations under the moonlit sky would set in motion a chain of events that would challenge their beliefs, push the boundaries of their comfort zones, and ultimately lead them to uncover the true meaning of love, choice, and destiny in a world where societal norms and personal desires clashed.

Lady Danbury's carriage arrived at the elegant estate of Earl Henry and Countess Caroline Ashford. The grand entrance welcomed her with its intricate marble columns and exquisite floral arrangements.

Lady Danbury, adorned in her finest regency attire, descended from the carriage with grace, her eyes shimmering with purpose. As she was ushered into the drawing room, Earl Henry and Countess Caroline rose to greet their esteemed guest.

"Lady Danbury, what a delight to have you grace our humble abode," Earl Henry exclaimed, extending his hand in greeting. "To what do we owe this honor?"

Lady Danbury's eyes twinkled mischievously as she settled into an ornate armchair. "Ah, Earl Henry, Countess Caroline, I have come with a proposition that might pique your interest," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of excitement.

Curiosity piqued, Earl Henry motioned for his wife to join them, and they sat opposite Lady Danbury, eager to hear her proposal. Countess Caroline's eyes sparkled with anticipation, for she had heard tales of Lady Danbury's matchmaking prowess.

"Pray, Lady Danbury, do enlighten us," Earl Henry urged, his voice tinged with anticipation.

Lady Danbury leaned forward, her gaze fixed on them. "I come with a proposition concerning your sister, Miss Helen Ashford," she revealed, her voice carrying a tone of conviction.

Earl Henry exchanged a quick glance with Countess Caroline, their interest now fully piqued. "Miss Helen? Pray, do tell us more," Earl Henry inquired, his tone politely inquisitive.

"Lady Danbury," Countess Caroline interjected, her voice filled with curiosity. "What could you possibly propose for our dear Helen?"

Lady Danbury's smile widened, and she clasped her hands together. "It has come to my attention that the honorable Benedict Bridgerton, the second oldest of the esteemed Bridgerton siblings, seeks a suitable match," she began, her words measured and deliberate.

Earl Henry leaned back in his chair, a spark of hope igniting in his eyes. "Benedict Bridgerton, you say? A fine gentleman indeed. But what does this have to do with our Helen?"

Lady Danbury's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "I believe that Helen and Benedict would make a splendid match. Helen's intellect, strength, and unwavering spirit would complement Benedict's artistic soul and free-spirited nature. It is a union that could bring about an extraordinary partnership."

Countess Caroline's breath caught in her throat, her heart beating with a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Lady Danbury, do you truly believe that our Helen and Benedict would find happiness in such an arrangement?"

Lady Danbury nodded, her confidence unwavering. "I have witnessed love bloom in the most unexpected of circumstances, Countess Caroline. Sometimes, the path to happiness lies beyond our preconceived notions. With Helen's resilience and Benedict's ability to see beauty in all things, I am convinced that their union would be nothing short of extraordinary."

The Bridgerton family gathered in the grand drawing room, its opulent walls adorned with exquisite portraits and shimmering chandeliers casting a soft glow. Violet Bridgerton, the matriarch of the family, stood at the center, her gaze commanding attention from her beloved children.

"Dear family," Violet began, her voice carrying the weight of authority and love. "There is a matter of utmost importance that requires our attention today."

Benedict, standing tall with a hint of unease in his eyes, exchanged a nervous glance with his siblings. They had all heard whispers of an impending arranged marriage, but the confirmation from their mother now hung in the air, tense and palpable.

Violet's piercing gaze met Benedict's, her voice steady yet tinged with a hint of sadness. "My dear Benedict, it is with a content heart that I inform you of the arrangement we have made for your marriage. Miss Helen Ashford, a young woman of impeccable character and grace, has been chosen as your bride."

Benedict's breath caught in his chest, his heart pounding with a mix of emotions. He looked around the room, meeting the eyes of his siblings, who bore expressions of both concern and curiosity. Benedict summoned his resolve, his voice firm yet tinged with a touch of defiance.

"Mother, I cannot comply with such an arrangement," he declared, his words echoing in the hallowed space. "I believe in the power of love, and I refuse to enter into a marriage devoid of that sacred bond."

Violet's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and disappointment flickering across her face. She moved closer to her son, her voice laced with a combination of maternal concern and authority.

"Benedict, my darling, marriage is a complex institution, and sometimes love can blossom in the most unexpected of places."

Benedict shook his head, his voice unwavering. "I appreciate your wisdom, Mother, but I have a passion for art that consumes my very being. I have dreams and aspirations that I wish to pursue, to create a life filled with beauty and inspiration. A loveless marriage would stifle that fire within me."

As tension hung in the air, Anthony, the eldest Bridgerton sibling, stepped forward, his voice cutting through the silence. "Benedict, you will marry Miss Ashford as Mother has arranged. It is our duty as members of this esteemed family to honor our responsibilities and uphold our reputation."

Benedict's eyes widened, his jaw clenched with a mixture of frustration and defiance. He locked eyes with Anthony, his voice resolute yet tinged with a touch of rebellion. "Anthony, I understand the weight of our family's expectations, but I cannot enter into a loveless union. I refuse to sacrifice my own happiness for the sake of appearances."

Anthony's gaze hardened, his voice filled with authority. "Benedict, you will do as I say. Our family's honor and standing in society depend on it. Love may be a luxury we cannot afford at the moment, but duty and responsibility must prevail."

Benedict's hands curled into fists, his voice strained with emotion. "Is our happiness to be sacrificed at the altar of societal expectations? Should we not strive for more than mere appearances?"

Violet, the voice of reason, stepped forward, her presence commanding attention. "Anthony, my dear son, let us not make hasty decisions fueled by obligation alone. Benedict's happiness and his pursuit of love are not matters to be taken lightly."

Anthony's expression softened, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. He took a deep breath, his voice gentler yet resolute. "I apologize, Benedict. I only seek what I believe is best for our family. But know this, my brother, love can sometimes be found in the most unexpected of circumstances."

Benedict nodded, his voice filled with gratitude for Anthony's willingness to listen. "I appreciate your concern, Anthony, but I cannot dismiss the yearnings of my heart. I must follow my own path, even if it means defying convention."

As the siblings stood before their mother, the weight of their differing opinions filled the room. It was a battle between duty and individuality, tradition and personal fulfillment.

In the quiet solitude of the Bridgerton family library, Daphne and Francesca found Benedict, his face etched with a mix of worry and defiance. They exchanged a knowing glance, understanding the weight of his inner turmoil. Daphne gently placed her hand on Benedict's shoulder, her voice filled with sisterly warmth.

"Benedict, dear brother, we understand your reservations. But before making any final decisions, would you not consider meeting Helen Ashford at least once? It may bring some clarity to your heart."

Benedict sighed, his eyes searching theirs for reassurance. "Daphne, Francesca, I fear I am destined for a life devoid of love and passion. How can I marry someone I do not know, someone I am not in love with?"

Francesca moved closer, her voice soothing yet resolute. "Benedict, love does not always happen at first sight. It can blossom slowly, like a delicate flower, when given the chance. Please, give Helen a fair opportunity to show you who she truly is."

Benedict hesitated, his fingers tracing the edges of a well-worn book on the table. "But what if I cannot find that connection, that spark of love? What if my heart remains untouched?"

Daphne clasped his hand, her eyes shining with sisterly affection. "Benedict, love is a mysterious and unpredictable force. It may elude us when we least expect it, and yet it can also surprise us in the most unlikely of circumstances. Give Helen a chance, and you may discover a love that surpasses all expectations."

Benedict bowed his head, grappling with his inner turmoil. "I shall meet Helen, for your sake, dear sisters. But I make no promises. My heart is guarded, and it may take more than a single encounter to sway me."

Francesca smiled, her voice filled with hope. "That is all we ask, dear brother. Keep an open mind, and perhaps fate will guide you towards the love you seek."

Helen Ashford sat by the window in the Ashford estate's study, engrossed in a book about astrophysics. Her mind danced with celestial wonders as she scribbled notes with determination. The room fell silent as her brother, Earl Henry Ashford, and his spirited wife, Countess Caroline, entered, their presence casting a lively aura.

"Helen, my dear sister, we have something of great import to discuss," Henry announced, a twinkle in his eyes.

Helen looked up from her book, her interest piqued. "Pray tell, what is it that has you both so eager to share?"

Caroline exchanged a knowing smile with her husband before speaking. "Dearest Helen, we have come to speak of a gentleman named Benedict Bridgerton. It appears he has caught the attention of many, and his accomplishments in the arts are widely renowned."

Helen raised an eyebrow, her voice laced with curiosity. "Benedict Bridgerton? And what of him? Should I be intrigued by his artistic endeavors?"

Henry chuckled, his affection for his sister evident. "Oh, dear sister, it seems you have misunderstood our intention. We do not speak of Benedict as a mere display of talents or a knight in shining armor. No, it is his character, his kindness, that has sparked our interest."

Helen leaned forward, a hint of skepticism in her voice. "Character and kindness, you say? Well, those are qualities worth considering. But let me make myself clear, I am not in search of grand love or a sweeping romance. A kind-hearted man who respects and cherishes me would be more than enough."

Caroline smiled warmly, her eyes filled with understanding. "We understand, Helen. And it is precisely because of Benedict's reputation for kindness that we thought to introduce you. You deserve nothing less than a partner who values you for who you are."

Helen paused, contemplating their words. "Very well, I shall meet this Benedict Bridgerton. But let it be known that my expectations are not high, and I will not be swayed by empty words or grand gestures. If he proves to be a man of genuine kindness and integrity, then perhaps there may be room for further consideration."

Henry and Caroline exchanged a glance, their excitement tempered with respect for Helen's independence. "We appreciate your open-mindedness, dear sister," Henry said. "All we ask is that you approach this meeting with an open heart and give Benedict a chance to prove himself."

Helen nodded, her determination shining through. "Rest assured, I shall approach this encounter with caution and reserve judgment until I have had the opportunity to know him better. After all, in matters of the heart, it is the substance beneath the surface that truly matters."

The Bridgerton siblings gathered in the grand parlor, preparing to depart for the Ashford estate for dinner. Excitement filled the air as they teased and bantered with one another, their playful spirits dancing like fireflies.

Colin, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, couldn't resist poking fun at Anthony. "Ah, dear brother, it seems love is in the air once again. We shall witness another Bridgerton succumbing to the bonds of matrimony."

Anthony smirked, ever ready with a retort. "Indeed, Colin, but pray tell, will it be before or after you find yourself shackled by the bonds of wedded bliss?"

Kate, Anthony's quick-witted wife, chimed in, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "Oh, Colin, do enlighten us. Will your heart be captured soon, or shall we wait for another decade of your bachelorhood?"

Colin feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. "I am a man of patience and discerning taste, dear sister-in-law. The right lady must grace my presence before I fall head over heels."

Eloise, unable to contain her laughter, joined in the banter. "Oh, Colin, we've been waiting for the day when love will sweep you off your feet. But until then, we shall revel in your charm and wit."

Benedict, the subject of their playful teasing, sighed, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Pray, dear siblings, spare me from your matchmaking endeavors. I am perfectly capable of finding love in my own time."

Francesca, always the voice of reason, chimed in. "Now, now, let's not overwhelm Benedict with our matchmaking schemes. Love has a way of finding us when we least expect it."

The room erupted with laughter, the joyous sound echoing through the halls of the Bridgerton household. They knew that while they may tease and prod, their bond as siblings was unbreakable, and their support for one another unwavering.

Eloise, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of nervousness and excitement, approached the elegant lady engrossed in her book. Her heart raced as she tried to find the right words to initiate the conversation.

Clearing her throat delicately, Eloise caught the attention of the young woman, who looked up, her eyes filled with curiosity. "How may I help you, miss?" Helen inquired, her voice soft and polite.

Eloise, her voice slightly trembling, introduced herself. "I... I'm Eloise Bridgerton, Benedict's sister," she managed to say, her words faltering slightly.

As the realization dawned upon Helen, her face lit up with recognition. "Forgive me, Miss Eloise. How careless of me. I should have known. It is a pleasure to meet you," she replied warmly, extending a gloved hand in greeting. "I am Helen Ashford."

She was, feeling more at ease now, smiled gratefully and accepted Helen's hand, shaking it gently. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Helen," she said, her voice growing steadier. "I must say, I've heard so much about you from my family. They speak highly of your intellect and wit."

Helen's eyes sparkled with appreciation. "Oh, the flattery, Miss Eloise. Your family is far too kind. I am but a humble scholar, indulging in the wonders of knowledge." She closed her book gently and placed it on her lap.

Eloise, curious about the book Helen had been immersed in, couldn't help but ask. "May I inquire about the book you were reading? 'The Glass Universe,' is it not?

Helen's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Ah, you have a keen eye, Miss Eloise. Indeed, 'The Glass Universe' is a captivating exploration of the unsung heroines who made significant contributions to the field of astronomy. I find it utterly fascinating."

Eloise's eyes widened with genuine interest. "Oh, how marvelous! Astronomy is such a captivating subject. I confess I have only dabbled in it, but perhaps we could exchange thoughts and ideas sometime. I would love to hear more about your studies."

Helen's smile grew wider. "That would be delightful, Miss Eloise. I'm always eager to discuss the wonders of the universe with like-minded individuals.

As they engaged in a lively conversation about their shared interests, the apprehension that had initially enveloped Eloise melted away. She found herself genuinely connecting with Helen, appreciating her intelligence and passion for knowledge.

As Eloise and Helen engaged in their animated conversation, the Bridgerton siblings watched from the doorway, captivated by the sight before them. Colin, unable to contain his teasing nature, leaned toward Francesca and whispered, "Eloise Part 2, is she not?"

Francesca stifled a laugh and whispered back, "Hush, our Eloise is not this polished in her manners."

Their giggles, however, did not go unnoticed by their stern older brother, Anthony, who shot them a disapproving glance, silently warning them to behave themselves.

Meanwhile, Benedict stood transfixed, his gaze fixed upon Helen. She possessed an ethereal beauty that left him in awe, a beauty that could not be replicated on canvas no matter how skilled the artist. Her every movement seemed to possess a grace and elegance that he found irresistible.

Henry, the ever-gracious host, took it upon himself to introduce Helen to the Bridgerton family members one by one. Helen greeted each of them with genuine warmth and politeness, making a favorable impression with her charm and grace.

Violet, observing Helen closely, couldn't help but be impressed. Her keen eyes took in every detail of Helen's refined demeanor and graceful poise. It was clear to her that Helen was not only beautiful but also possessed an intelligence and sophistication that matched her appearance.

"Miss Helen, it is a pleasure to have you here with us," Violet said warmly, extending her hand in greeting. "I must say, your reputation precedes you. I have heard nothing but commendations about your intellect and wit."

Helen curtsied gracefully, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you, Lady Bridgerton. Your kind words are most humbling. I must say, it is an honor to be welcomed into such esteemed company."

Violet's smile widened, and she studied Helen with a discerning eye. "I must say, Miss Helen, you possess a rare combination of beauty and intelligence. It is truly a delight to have you amongst us."

Helen's cheeks flushed with a mixture of modesty and appreciation. "Your words are far too kind, Lady Bridgerton. I am but a humble scholar, seeking knowledge and exploring the wonders of the world."

Violet chuckled softly. "Oh, my dear, humility suits you well. Please, do enjoy your time here. Our family is known to be a lively bunch, and we are thrilled to have you as part of our evening."

The grand dining room of the Ashford estate was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight as the Bridgertons and Helen Ashford gathered for a sumptuous dinner. The table was adorned with elegant silverware, crystal glasses, and exquisite floral arrangements, creating an atmosphere of refined opulence.

As the first course was served, stimulating conversations filled the air. The clinking of fine china and the gentle murmur of polite laughter echoed throughout the room. Violet Bridgerton, the epitome of grace and poise, sat at the head of the table, her eyes sparkling with delight.

"I believe we should leave Benedict and Helen chaperoned to get to know each other," Violet proposed, her voice carrying a gentle yet commanding tone.

Benedict's heart skipped a beat, and he looked up nervously, his eyes meeting Helen's. She swallowed her food harshly, momentarily surprised by the suggestion. Her gaze flickered with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

"What a good idea," Henry Ashford chimed in, his voice carrying a touch of excitement. "It will give the young ones an opportunity to converse without prying eyes."

Kate, always eager to assist, added, "I shall chaperone after dinner, ensuring their privacy. Colin and Eloise can be quite the mischievous duo, and we wouldn't want any interference."

"I must warn you, Miss Helen," Eloise began mischievously, leaning closer to her. "Our dear Anthony here has a habit of offering unsolicited advice when it comes to matters of the heart."

Helen raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Is that so, Miss Eloise? Pray, do tell me more."

Eloise glanced at Anthony with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Oh, it's quite amusing, really. Whenever Benedict expresses the slightest interest in someone, Anthony appears out of thin air with a scowl on his face, ready to interrogate the poor soul."

Helen stifled a laugh, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Interrogations, you say? How fascinating. I shall keep that in mind."

Anthony, who had been engaged in conversation nearby, overheard their exchange and couldn't resist chiming in. "I assure you, Miss Helen, it's all for Benedict's own good. Someone has to protect him from the scoundrels and fortune hunters lurking about."

Kate, sitting across the table, joined in the lighthearted teasing. "Oh, Anthony, we all know your intentions are pure, but sometimes your interference borders on comedic grandeur."

The room erupted in laughter, even Benedict couldn't help but chuckle at his brother's reputation. "Fear not, Miss Helen," he said with a playful grin. "Anthony's overprotectiveness is merely a reflection of his devotion to our family. It can be rather amusing to witness."

Helen smiled warmly, feeling the genuine camaraderie that surrounded her. "I appreciate the warning, Miss Eloise and the assurance, Mr. Anthony. Rest assured, I can handle a little interference if it means getting to know your brother better.

Violet, observing the playful exchange with motherly pride, interjected, "Oh, my dear Helen, with this lot, you shall never have a dull moment. But in their own peculiar way, they care deeply for one another."

The conversation continued, peppered with light-hearted jabs and infectious laughter, as the Bridgertons and Helen forged a bond, finding comfort and joy in their shared camaraderie.

Dinner was soon over and everyone was scattered as per their interest Benedict cleared his throat, feeling a touch of nervousness. "Pray tell, Ms. Ashford, what are your preferred pastimes aside from composing music?"

Helen straightened her posture, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon. "I do engage in writing music, Mr. Bridgerton. It is a pursuit that allows me to express my innermost sentiments."

Benedict nodded, his hands fidgeting slightly. "Ah, yes, the language of music. It possesses a unique ability to stir emotions. Might I inquire about the emotions you seek to convey through your compositions?"

Helen's eyes flickered with uncertainty, her fingers intertwining. "I do not actively seek specific emotions, Mr. Bridgerton. Rather, I endeavor to convey a sense of depth and resonance, allowing the melodies to unravel the mysteries within."

Benedict furrowed his brow, his own words stumbling slightly. "I understand. It is intriguing how both painting and music have the power to transport us, to reach beyond mere words and touch the depths of the soul."

The silence that followed was accompanied by the occasional rustle of leaves, an unspoken tension hanging in the air. Both Benedict and Helen were captivated by each other's passions, yet their formal exchange left them grasping for common ground.

Attempting to break the awkwardness, Benedict ventured cautiously, "Do you find inspiration in specific composers, Ms. Ashford?"

Helen's lips curved into a faint smile, a touch of relief evident in her voice. "Indeed, Mr. Bridgerton. The works of Beethoven and Mozart resonate deeply within me. Their mastery of composition ignites a fire within my soul."

Benedict's expression softened as he found a glimmer of connection. "Ah, the classical masters. Their timeless melodies have a way of transcending generations, speaking to the depths of our being."

As they meandered through the gardens, their conversation ebbed and flowed, from discussions of artistic influences to shared admiration for the beauty of nature. The formality began to dissipate, replaced by a genuine curiosity and the gradual unraveling of shared interests.

Caroline delicately maneuvered her fingers through Helen's long, cascading locks, her touch gentle and comforting. The flickering candlelight cast a warm glow upon them as they sat together in Helen's bedchamber, preparing for the night.

"So, my dear Helen, what are your thoughts on Mr. Benedict Bridgerton?" Caroline inquired, her voice soft and curious.

Helen's jaw tightened momentarily, a flicker of emotion crossing her face. She took a deep breath, composing herself before responding. "I find the entire Bridgerton family to be quite delightful. They possess a warmth and closeness that is truly admirable. I would consider myself fortunate to be a part of their esteemed lineage.”

Caroline, astute as ever, detected the underlying evasion in Helen's words. She gently held Helen's hand, her eyes brimming with empathy. "My dearest sister, I come from a large family, blessed with devoted parents who cherished each and every one of us. I experienced a childhood filled with love and joy. But Helen, after all that you and Henry have endured, I believe you deserve this. It is your choice whether or not to seek love in marriage, but my dear, the kind of familial love that the Bridgertons embody is something we all deserve."

Helen's eyes welled with tears, her heart torn between apprehension and the longing for a sense of belonging. She clung to Caroline, finding solace in her sister-in-law's embrace.

“Caroline, you speak the truth. The love of a family is a precious gift, one I never had the chance to experience fully. I do not wish to let such an opportunity pass me by. I promise you, I shall strive to be the best daughter-in-law and a devoted wife to Benedict."

Caroline smiled, her eyes shimmering with pride and affection. "That is all I could ever hope for, dear Helen. The Bridgertons will welcome you with open arms, and I have no doubt that you will fill their lives with light and love."

As she settled into her bed that night, her heart carried a flicker of hope, knowing that she was embarking on a journey that would forever change her life.

Anthony poured himself a glass of fine Irish whiskey, his gaze fixed on Benedict. Curiosity danced in his eyes as he broached the subject. "So, brother, what are your thoughts on Miss Ashford?"

Benedict took a deep breath, furrowing his eyebrows as he contemplated his response. His mind buzzed with a myriad of emotions and thoughts, but for now, he decided to keep his newfound revelation to himself.

“Miss Ashford... she is quite... delightful," he replied, choosing his words carefully. "Resilient and remarkably strong. I believe she would make a splendid addition to our family."

Eloise, unable to contain her excitement, interjected with a burst of enthusiasm. "She's like the woman of my dreams! She possesses that main character energy from a novel. Benedict, you simply must marry her. She's the kind of intelligent woman this house needs!"

Colin, always quick with a witty retort, couldn't resist teasing Eloise. "Oh, Eloise, she's there to balance out your daftness, isn't she?"

Eloise shot back with a playful glare. "Oh, go back to your never-ending travels, Colin. Nobody likes you in this house anyway."

Anthony, weary of the banter, stepped in to restore order. "Enough, Eloise and Colin! Can you two ever be serious?"

“I don't see the need for seriousness, Anthony, especially since you provide enough of it for all of us."Eloise, ever the mischievous one, responded with a cheeky grin

With that, Eloise swiftly made her escape from the study, leaving a bemused Anthony in her wake.

Anthony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I shall need a physician for my ailing heart during her entire season, I fear."

Colin, sensing the tension, decided it was best to exit the study as well, dodging any potential admonishment from Benedict. "Well, then, let us inform Mother tomorrow and set a date for your impending nuptials."

With a hearty laugh, Colin left the room, leaving Benedict alone with his thoughts.

Benedict found himself faced with a quandary, and yet he had devised a solution that seemed the most sensible. If he were to enter into this marriage for the sake of his family, then why not choose someone who epitomized perfection for the Bridgertons? Helen Ashford embodied all that was desirable—a captivating beauty, elegance, and a refined intellect. She possessed a resilient spirit, a strong voice, and yet remained gentle, polite, and empathetic.

In his mind, Benedict formulated a plan. He would proceed with this marriage before the season's end, and within two months of their union, he would return to his beloved academy. It seemed like a fair compromise, one that allowed him to pursue his own passions while fulfilling his familial obligations.

Deep down, a nagging question arose—what did Helen stand to gain from this arrangement? Yet, Benedict swiftly buried those doubts, reminding himself that if he was sacrificing for the sake of his mother, he, too, deserved the opportunity to follow his own aspirations. For now, he would keep his thoughts to himself, allowing his resolve to strengthen and his path to unfold.

Thus, with a steadfast determination and a masked inner turmoil, Benedict embraced the decision he had made. The intricate tapestry of his life was about to intertwine with that of Helen Ashford, creating a new chapter in both their stories. As the world around him spun with expectations and possibilities, Benedict remained resolute, ready to embark on this unconventional journey that would test the boundaries of duty, love, and his own desires.

[blurredcolour]

More Than Words

Summary: The universe has granted humankind with The Great Gift – At age sixteen, the first words spoken by everyone’s soulmate appear on the inside of their forearm. Well…not everyone. Austin Butler is one of the few with an expanse of blank skin, and a hollow heart. Until a chance meeting with an accident-prone person changes everything.

Pairing: Austin Butler x Gender Neutral Reader – Soulmate AU

Warnings: Language, Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Discussion of The Power of the Universe, Mention of Surgery, Mention of Scars, Reader With A Disability, Minor Reader Injury, Eventual Fluff, No Mature/Explicit Details – Rating: T.

Author’s Note: After reading this incredible Top Gun Maverick - Hangman fic No Words by @a-reader-and-a-writer, I have been unable to move on from the incredible concept. All credit for concept and basis for the plot goes to them. Thank you @elvisabutler for your help with this one…and for making me actually write it for Austin Butler.

Full disclosure I am a non-disabled person and part of this is written from the point-of-view of a person with a disability. I do not share this life experience but have done my best to use neutral terms and to portray a human being who struggles with a negative inner voice – something I think is common across the spectrum of humanity. Please do not hesitate to reach out to me if you find any aspect concerning, I am happy to adjust as needed. Thank you for reading!

Word Count: 2256

Song Suggestion: More Than Words - Extreme

Unworthy.

Austin Butler had known that he was unworthy of a soulmate since the date of his sixteenth birthday. While all his peers had experienced a moment of pure magic as the universe scribed the first words their soulmate would say to them upon the inside of their forearm, all he had felt was a mere fizzle and his own skin had remained obstinately bare.

It was a fact that had been difficult for his mother to accept initially, resulting in numerous visits to doctors and knowledge keepers. As a child of divorced parents, it had almost felt inevitable to him when he was informed that this did indeed happen from time to time. The universe, in its infinite wisdom, had decided that he was not meant for anyone…nor was anyone meant for him.

Through his teens and twenties, it had not been much of an issue. The young, rebellious spirit lent itself to buck the traditions of older generations and the dictates of the universe. The desire to exercise one’s free will burned bright in age group. There were even a few years where thought he and Vanessa might truly make it, despite the words ‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes’ scrawled across her skin.

But as his twenties wore on, perspective changed. For one, his adolescent brain fully developed at the age of twenty-five, bringing with it reason, foresight, and a full understanding of consequences. As gradually his friends and colleagues had found their person, falling into their eyes in an unearthly stupor as their connections were made, the ‘great gift’, as it was called, became for him a great curse. It had become increasingly difficult to deny that the universe truly had the upper hand in all things, and his relationship with Vanessa had come to an end as she had decided it was time to find her person and stop playing house with him.

He had done his best to make connections with other people…trending towards those younger than him, those still in the throes of hormones and revolt against the pre-ordained. But these relationships all came to their inevitable end and more and more he found himself alone.

And so, work had become him most consistent companion. He dedicated all his efforts to flying all over the globe on job after job, filming part after part. With Bikeriders wrapped, he now found himself pulled in all directions in the heat of an Oscar campaign. At yet another party with another crowd of people fawning all over him. He managed to seize a lull in conversation to escape, finding his way to the bar and procuring a whiskey on the rocks.

He took a deep, soothing sip. The heat of the liquid scorching its way down his esophagus to briefly fill the space beneath his sternum. A space that was as empty as the skin of his arm.  He tilted the glass back to finish the last mouthful and set it back on the bar. Turning to survey the room, looking for Baz, his eyes came to rest on the form of someone he had never seen before. So, it was bewildering when his eyes seemed to snag upon them, refusing to be torn away.

He chalked up the fluttering of his heart, and tiny, sipping breaths, to the after-effects of the sudden influx of alcohol on an empty stomach. Yet he continued to watch as they took a step into the walkway just as a server was flying from the kitchen with a heavily laden tray of champagne for the toast Baz was supposed to deliver in a few minutes. He strode forward, trying to call out and warn them. But it was in vain.

With a dramatic clash, two people and twenty glasses of champagne were splayed on the floor. He hurried forward, inexplicably draw towards them.

“Are you ok?” He asked quickly.

Damaged goods.

Born with laryngeal atresia, a closed trachea and voice box, doctors had immediately made an incision in your throat and input a tracheal tube just to keep you alive. Your family was not particularly wealthy, and the surgeries needed to save your life had been an overwhelming financial burden that left no surplus to dedicate to giving you the ability to speak.

As a small child, aside from the constant surgeries, you had no concept that you were different than anyone else. But the cruelty of the school yard had been very effective at outlining that no one else was non-speaking. It was just you. It was impossible to not internalize at least a fraction of the prejudice directed your way.

A defective product for which there was no refund process.

For the most part, you had a normal life and high self-worth. The advances in technology made it easy for you to communicate in other ways. There was always pen and paper, and then with the advent of the smartphone and screen readers your options has only increased. But, in a world where everyone was eagerly searching for their soulmate, ordained by the powers of the universe, the idea of being found filled you with dread. Brought out the darkest thoughts you struggled to overcome, filled you with concern for what their reaction might be.

Perhaps if there had been an element of free choice about it, like before the granting of the ‘great gift’, then maybe you would have felt less trepidation. Less of a burden, one that was first foisted on your parents, and now waiting to be foisted onto your preordained person.

The words that had appeared on the inside of your forearm on your sixteenth birthday did nothing to quell your fears.

‘Are you ok?’

As if your soulmate finding out you could not speak was not intimidating enough – something bad was going to precede it. Bad enough for them to show concern.

You endeavoured to set it out of your mind. To get on with living your life, building your career, discovering and solidifying who you were as a person. Brilliant, successful, thriving. Fiercely proud of what you had accomplished in this ableist society.

You were also, unfortunately a bit of a klutz, able to trip over the pattern of a linoleum floor, and prone to misfortune. Aside from a plethora of bruises, fifty percent of an unknown origin, it had the unpleasant consequence of presenting you with those three words on your skin delivered by countless lips. A constant reminder.

And while your friends and family, as they found their soulmates over the years, assured you that it was more than words – it was a feeling – that tiny, cruel voice inside you continued to insist ‘or they just ran when they found out who you are.’

So, as you stood in the midst of this party in LA, armed with an alcoholic beverage in hand, you could not help the agonizing feeling that you did not belong here. In town to visit family, you had done your best to protest against your cousin’s insistence that you attend. But the entire extended family had insisted and provided you with an outfit to meet the cocktail attire dress code. Despite their pledge to stay with you, your cousin had been dragged off by friends promptly on arrival, and you had found yourself quite alone in a sea of stunningly attractive people.

After securing said fortifying beverage, you had found a supportive column to put your back against, not unlike prey in an exposed space needing any sliver of cover possible. It worked for the most part, and the few people who happened your way, trying to strike up a conversation, all turned to leave after you placed your fingertips against your throat and shook your head. Not even waiting for you to type out a reply on your phone. Quickly moving on to someone else.

Frustrated and more than ready to leave, you turned to take your now empty glass back to the bar when the blunt edge of something collided with the side of your upper arm. There was a string of curses, the chilly drench of freshly poured champagne, and the bulk of a body that followed, sending you into a dripping puddle on the floor. A minefield of shattered champagne flutes littered the ground around you, and the buzz that had filled the room was completely snuffed out as it fell utterly silent.

Aside from wet and cold, you felt mortified. The server began struggling to their feet, a flurry of apologies pouring from their lips as they frantically tried to clear the glass to prevent further injury to you. You turned onto your hands and knees, careful to plant your skin on the glass-free area of the floor that had been shielded by your body, before a pair of polished, leather boots stepped into view. You looked up and were stunned by the intensity of the brilliant cerulean blue eyes shining down at you in concern as their very lanky owner crouched down and outstretched a hand to help you up.

“Are you ok?” His honeyed Tennessee twang made you shiver as you somehow managed a nod.

Acutely aware of the fact that all eyes in the room were now gazing down at you, reveling in your misfortune, you quickly set your hand in his proffered one and gasped sharply at the feeling. A rather absurd image of a Christmas pudding, soaked in brandy, and lit afire came to mind. The way the luminous blue flame caressed the surface, without harming the dessert itself, was precisely how you would have described the feeling that erupted across your skin.

As his firm hand helped you to your feet, you straightened to see him staring at you in hushed awe. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as it felt like his fingertips were tracing along the words on the inside of your forearm, and you had to fight against the fluttering of your eyelashes to maintain eye contact.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He murmured, looking you over and tsking as he found blood pooling your palm. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He placed a hand on your lower back and guided you smoothly through the crowd to one of the single-stall washrooms. Leading you to the sink to rinse off your hand before he carefully inspected the cut to be sure there was no glass imbedded.

“Who are you…” He breathed in confusion, eyes frantically tracing the curves of your face, before shaking his head. “I’m Austin Butler, it’s nice to meet you.”

You offered a tremulous smile before fumbling to pull out your phone and quickly type your name before holding it out to him to read.

His brows furrowed and he looked at you slowly. “Can you not…speak?” His eyes suddenly widened as all the implications of that crashed into his consciousness.

Your fingertips landed on the scar on your throat, and you shook your head. You hesitated a moment before slowly stretching out your arm to expose the words imprinted there.

You noted how his fingers shook as they reached out to brush against the question, looking to you sharply as the air shuddered from your lungs.

“But I’m not worthy, I don’t get a soulmate I…” He rambled, quickly rucking up the sleeves of his suit jacket and button-up shirt simultaneously to bunch at his elbow, revealing a blank, tanned space where the words should be…

You shook your head stubbornly and grasped his wrist, pulling his hand to lay against your throat before you mouthed the words ‘I’m right here.’ There was, of course, no sound, no vibration. But you did a very good job of forming the shapes of the vowels and consonants, making yourself clear with the addition of hand gestures.

“I’m right here…” He gave voice to your words in a hushed whisper before his fingers twitched around your throat, fingers tracing the edges of your surgical scars before holding you in place as he dove in to press his trembling lips against yours.

The sensation of shimmering flame flowed across your skin once more, and you quickly gripped his bare forearm for balance. You heard him inhale sharply through his nose before he pulled back to look you over intensely. Licking your lips as you eyed him thoughtfully, it was your turn to surge forward and kiss him fiercely.

He tasted of the whiskey he’d been drinking, with perhaps a hint of tobacco, and pure electricity. The salty tang of the tears stealing down both of your cheeks mingled into the kiss as his slid his arms around you to pull you closer. With the last functioning portion of your brain, you managed to recall the state of your clothing and you quickly planted your hands on his chest, locking your elbows to keep your distance.

You felt him tense and pull back to look you over quickly, sniffing. You smiled reassuringly, if a bit tearfully, and gestured at your clothes before collecting a bit of the fabric between your fingers and wringing out some champagne onto the floor. He immediately relaxed as the droplets sounded against the tile floor and kissed your forehead tenderly.

“Let’s get you some clean clothes. Then we have a lot of catching up to do. And I, I need to get a tattoo.”

You tilted your head, eyeing him curiously.

“I’m right here.” He murmured tenderly, trailing his forefinger along his, for now, blank skin.

Post-script: If the spelling of ‘whiskey’ gave you pause, you’re not alone! Whiskey is the spelling for grain spirits distilled in the United States and Ireland. Whisky is the spelling for grain spirits distilled in Canada, Scotland, and Japan. Because the top grain spirit for 2022 is an Irish Whiskey, I have chosen this spelling for Austin’s beverage. Thank you for coming to my alcohol nerd talk.

[catxsnow]

LIFE SAVER B.A.

Request: Could I request Bart Allen x reader where she is the blood daughter of Bruce Wayne- maybe make her superhero alias phoenix or something and she falls hard for him. Bruce is a protective father and wants Bart to prove himself of being worthy for her hand. Fluff.

Warning: mentions of blood, violence, Bruce being a bad dad, fluff, angst, swearing

A/N: Y’all had me so distracted playing Among Us I nearly forgot to post 

Anyways, first Bart fic, hope you guys enjoy!! 

Word Count: 3.3k

"Bruce you're being fucking ridiculous."

Joining the Young Justice Team was your father's idea. Tim was there, Dick was still the leader, and you deserved your spot there as well. You despised the idea at first - it was easier working with Batman than it was a bunch of kids, even if two of your brothers were on the team. It didn't seem fair that he was making you go as well.

You never talked to very many people there - Tim, Dick, sometimes Conner. It was easier just to stick by yourself until the mission came. Maybe that was the Bruce in you - wanting to be alone and independent - maybe that was just you not wanting to make friends. Tim fit in well, Dick founded the team. They were meant for this, you weren't.

Maybe that was the reason you were excited to see a new face when Bart arrived. He was just as annoying and over energetic as everyone else you knew, but there was still something different about him. He wasn't like Wally or Conner or even your brothers. He carried a weight on his shoulders that he desperately tried to hide.

Not to mention that he seemed to know all the right things to make you smile. Bart became close to you, closer than you had been than anyone else. Dick was the first to notice. He watched you sneak into Bart's room at night to hang out and play video games or that the two of you would always make sure you were together on missions.

It was subtle at first, until Beast Boy noticed and started spreading around that you were dating - totally not true. However, in Bart's eyes it seemed to be enough to grow a pair and kiss you. His time was less than fortunate - maybe customs were different in the future but in that day and age you generally wouldn't have asked for your first kiss with him to be in front of your entire team.

Things with him were going great, at least until Tim snitched on the both of you to your father. Bruce was pissed that you were dating Bart. Not only did he not trust the speedster, he didn't want you dating anyone. You last boyfriend hadn't ended well and Bruce still had to be held back from breaking his bones.

"I've made my decision. That's final." Bruce was sitting in front of his computer. His cowl was down, but he refused to meet eyes with you. He could hear you pacing back and forth behind him. Anger rolled off you like waves - there was no way that he could do this to you. Not when he let you have so much responsibility as Batgirl.

"I'm sixteen! You can't just let me fight assholes every night but not let me have a boyfriend!" You yelled at him. It was beyond frustrating that he refused to look at you. It had only been a couple months that you were dating Bart but losing him hurt more than anything else. Bruce couldn't do this to you.

"I told you already. You're not dating that boy. He hasn't proved himself yet."  

"Bart has proved himself over and over again! You just couldn't give him the time of day to notice!" You exclaimed. Bruce couldn't even bother to turn back and look at you as you defended your boyfriend. He didn't care for Bart from the start, and now more than ever he wasn't willing to give him a chance.

"I said no."

"Fuck you, Bruce," You finally snapped. As much as he hated when you swore and yelled at him like this, it happened more often than either of you were willing to admit. It was rare for you to ever see eye to eye with your farther. Dick was the same, Tim was learning. Jason was the only person that you seemed to constantly get along with and now he's gone.

Bruce still didn't turn to you. Without another word, you left the cave and headed straight to the nearest Zeta Tube. He couldn't stop you. Unless he wanted to pull you from that team - which he didn't - you would still see Bart every day. There was no way that he could keep you from seeing him.

It broke you knowing that your father wanted to take away the one thing that made you happy on that team. Did Dick know? Tim? Unlikely. Your chest ached at the betrayal. Fists clenched at your sides as you entered the cave and tears threatening to burn your eyes. Why did he have to be so damn persistent?

Instead of heading to your room like you wanted to, you went directly to the training room. There was no point in sulking over your hurt feelings when you could direct them to training. Bruce instilled that into you too. It seemed that all of your bad traits stemmed from him.

A sword twirled in your hand as the simulation started up. Fake assassins came at you from every angle  but none of them stood a chance against your anger. You moved effortlessly around the room, taking down every faux enemy in your way.

Sweat dripped down your body and you had lost track of how long you had been going at it. The sword began to feel heavy in your hands from swinging it around. Your muscles started to scream at you to stop but every time you tried, you got filled with another wave of rage. Fuck Bruce.

You had been so caught up that you hadn't noticed someone walk into the room. If you hadn't noticed the bright red hair, you would have assumed it to be another simulation. The tip of your sword stopped centimeters away from his eye. You had stopped yourself just in time.  

Bart pushed your sword down and watched your chest heave up and down from the exertion that you had put yourself through. He raised his eyebrows as you said nothing to him, just turned away and put your weapon back in it's place. Sweat soaked your shirt and you realized how lightheaded you were.

Your hands gripped onto the table in front of you. Bart sped over and sat right by your hands. He watched your eyes squeeze shut before popping open at his appearance. Dating the kid of Batman meant he had to get used to the brooding - tonight it seemed different. He was worried.

"What's wrong?" Bart asked. For the first time, he sounded timid around you. He could see the look in your eyes, the way you pushed yourself that night, even how your muscles tense with frustration. Something had gone haywire when you were home in Gotham. "Hey," he placed his hand over yours to get your attention.

"Bruce," you scoffed. Bart knew you didn't always get along with your father. You'd come to him ranting and screaming about how neglected you felt you whole life. Whatever it was this time, it really must have gotten you riled. "Tim told him we're dating and now he's riding my ass about it. He doesn't want us together."

Confusion struck his face. He had never given Bruce, or your brothers, a reason to dislike him when it came to dating you. He was always kind and loving, never willing to let anyone hurt you. Sure, he might have been a bit odd compared to the others, but he was the only one to get you to truly open up on that team.

Bart clenched his jaw. What was he supposed to say? Batman scared him, a lot. He saw the tremble in your china and the way that you squeezed your eyes shut. Bart placed his palm on your cheek and kissed the corner of your lips. He didn't want to lose you.

He couldn't.

><

It seemed to be incredibly tense whenever you were around your family. You refused to talk to Bruce again and each time you were in the room with Tim everyone could feel how angry you were. He didn't mean to stir trouble when he told Bruce about your life with Bart, he didn't think he would react that badly.

Dick was trying his best to play mediator. He split you and Tim up whenever he got the chance and made sure to keep you and Bart together so he wouldn't get on your bad side as well. At the same time, Bruce continuously stopped in or asked Dick what was going on. Someone was always lurking over you when you were with Bart.

Whenever Batman was around, Bart became nervous - and distant. He didn't stand by you, sometimes he didn't even look at you. Though you knew that you couldn't blame him for being nervous around your father, it still made you angry. Not at him, never at him, but Bruce. He continuously fucked up your life.

The only way that Bart would ever get his approval was to defy death itself to be a hero. If Bruce was human and would put his life on the line, then he expected Bart to do so as well considering he had powers. His expectation was ridiculous, Bart risked his life every day right along side you on that team. Why did that not seem to be enough?

Bruce had another chat with you that evening. He stopped to the cave before you mission that evening. Unfortunately for you, it had been a bad time for him to come barging in without knocking. You and Bart had been tangled in your bed with needy kisses being shared.

You could still hear the coldness in his voice as he ordered Bart to leave. The tone he used when he yelled at you for still seeing him. The embarrassment you had when you left your room to join your team who had all heard you screaming match with your father. Bruce said nothing to your brothers, he only glared.

Dick assigned the teams for that night. You, Bart, and Gar were team beta. Bart looked hesitant to be near you again. To be honest, you couldn't blame him. Gar looked hesitant to be with you both, his eyes darted between you as if you had just broken up. That was far from the case - you weren't letting your father dictate you life like this.

As much as Bart knew this, it still made him weary. If there was one person that he never wanted to defy, it was the Bat. He still didn't know how you stood up to him so easily - swearing, calling him by his first name - he was your father. Then again, your relationship with him was far from perfect.

The mission itself seemed easy. A simple recon for your team - but just like nearly every recon mission that this team had - something went wrong. Things were going smoothly at first, at then gunshots started within the building and innocent screams being heard. You couldn't sit around while people were getting hurt.

So, breaking what you had promised Dick, you swooped in to save the people. Unfortunately for you, there were far more people than expected. Gar and Bart were out of sight and you couldn't rely on them in that moment. Your staff twirled around, taking down man after man. Bullets narrowly missed you, but at least the attention was off the civilians.

Bart had finally gotten back to you, he had been busy with his own men before he could join. "Impulse! Get the people out!" You shouted at him. Bart did as he was told, taking two at a time far away from the building and to safety while you held your own. Gar had finally caught up with you, too.

The two of you took out nearly every man in that building. All of them were unconscious or had surrendered. All except one. Gar could see the man behind you raise his gun, he yelled out trying to get your attention but it was too late. The trigger had been pulled and a bullet flew right towards you.

Bart felt like everything was happening in slow motion. He had just finished getting the last civilian to safety. When he ran back in he saw the bullet speeding at your chest. He pushed his legs faster than he had ever gone before to try and get you to safety as well. His hands out stretched to try and catch the bullet before it made contact.

Unfortunately for him, he had miscalculated the trajectory. Rather than catching the bullet in his palm, he had dove right in front of it. Bart stood there in shock as blood seeped from his chest. He looked over to you, fear in his eyes at the found. Had it not been for Beast Boy taking the shooter down, you would have been shot as well.

"Bart! No, no no," You panicked. He fell into your arms before hitting the ground. His blood soaked your hands as you put pressure on the wound to stop him from bleeding. Tears slipped down your face at the state of him. His face was contorted in pain and he was trying his best to be strong for you.

Gar dropped down to your side beside the both of you, worried as well. Bart placed his hand over yours and tried his best to smile up at you. "Speed healing, babe. You wouldn't have been so lucky." It was true, a bullet for him was an inconvenience for an hour, for you, it could have been a lifetime.

"I don't give a shit about your speed healing, Bart. I don't like seeing you hurt."

"Would have done it without it anyways. Anything to save you."

><

When you showed back up to the cave with blood on your hands and all of your suit, Bruce immediately went into protective mode. He assumed it to be yours and was ready to bite the head off of anyone involved. As expected, his blame was ready to go directly to Bart.

It wasn't until he saw the redness in your eyes and the way Gar held onto Bart like his life depended on it did he realize that you weren't hurt. You were fine, pissed and worried, but you would live. Bruce didn't say anything as you brought your boyfriend to the med bay to get stitched up.

Bart was going to just fine. Like he said, he had speed healing - you didn't. Had that bullet pierced your skin instead, you wouldn't have held on long enough to make it back to the cave like he did. You were grateful for him, as much as you thought him an idiot to do so.

Dick had convinced you to go wash up while he was in the med bay. His wound was nearly healed and he was on his way to be back to new within the hour. His healing abilities still went forgotten by you and getting it through your head that he was going to be okay was hard to accept.

However, Dick was right. You needed to get cleaned up sooner or later and seeing the blood on your hands was only a harsh reminder of what had happened. The sound of the gunshot echoed through your head, the look on his face as he realized he didn't catch the bullet but got hit by it, they were etched into your brain.

No matter how hard you scrubbed, you still couldn't rid the images out of your brain. Rashly, you jumped out of the shower and through on the closet pair of sweats and hoodie - both of which belonged to Bart. He was okay, but you needed to see him to make sure that he really was.

Water still dripped down you, leaving a trail of foot prints from your room all the way to the med bay. However, as you reached the room, you stopped in your tracks. Through the glass you could see your father standing over Bart. Your boyfriend was nodding along to whatever he was saying - a hint of fear in his face.

What could Bruce possible have to say to Bart? After what he had done for you, there was no way that he could rip a new one into him. Bart had saved your life, and if Bruce still couldn't see how good of a person that he was, you weren't sure what would.

Without another thought, you swung the door open. Both the men turned towards you, both happy to see you there.

"What the hell are you doing?" You snapped to Bruce. The conversation that he had with you before the mission bounced around in you mind. In what world was it good timing to try and break you up once more right after your boyfriend was shot trying to save your life. "How dare you come to Bart after he's saved my life and try to -"

"(Y/N)," Bart cut you off. "It's okay." Your eyebrows furrowed at his words. Okay? How was it okay that Batman was trying to split you apart? How was it okay that your own father couldn't accept that you loved Bart? Nothing about this was okay.

Bruce said nothing. He moved to stand directly in front of you. His hand squeezed your shoulder for a brief moment before leaving the two of you alone. Still unsure of what that meant, you turned your attention back to Bart who was now fully healed and ready to go.

Slowly, he sat up in the bed until his feet dangled off the edge. To your surprise, he didn't look stressed or worried from his previous conversation. Instead, there was a small smile spreading on his lips. It grew as you ran into his arms. All the fear you had washed away being held by him.

"I was so scared," You whispered. Bart pulled away from you to kiss you. His lips molded perfectly against your. This was long awaited, far too long. You needed his kiss, his touch, you missed it in the short time that he had been injured. "What did he say to you?"

"Thank you," he answered. Your eyes widened in shock - Bruce never said thanks to anyone, especially to someone he hated as much as Bart. "For keeping you safe. And happy. For loving you when he can't."

"Bruce? My father? Batman?" You questioned. There was no way that he said anything like that. Not when he was so adamant on getting you broken up this whole time. Bart nodded. "So he doesn't want us broken up anymore?"

"Babe, if all it took was getting shot I would have done that a long time ago," Bart laughed. You smacked his shoulder, wishing that he wouldn't joke about that. It petrified you to have him shot right in front of you. The fear you had nearly wasn't worth your father's approval. "I'm kidding. Sort of. Not at all, actually. I'd do it again for you."

"No the hell you wouldn't," you scolded. "I swear Bart Allen for someone who thinks as quickly as you do, you make some dumb decisions."

"Part of my charm," Bart chuckled. He kissed your lips one more time before standing up. A coy look flashed in his eyes - that was never good from him. "There are some ways that you could make it up to me, ya know? I mean a man takes a bullet for you.. that sounds worthy of something special."

"Are you thinking kisses or a ridiculous amount of Big Belly Burger because I could go for either right now."

"Babe, it's like you read my mind."

[aitarose]

THORNS | AZULA

PAIRING: Azula x Reader x Zuko [fem]

PLOT: Though Azula always said that she’s never believed in love, she failed to stop herself from falling head over heels for her brother’s betrothed. companion piece to roses; based on these requests by anons

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, unrequited love, mutual pining, somewhat friends to lovers

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

A/N: this connects to the events that occur in roses. this piece can be read as a standalone, but roses gives more detail to the reader’s feelings and relationship with zuko

ALT. END: Blossoms | ZUKO’S POV: Roses

WRITER’S ANALYSIS: Here

MY MASTERLIST

thorns : a symbol of sinful thoughts, extreme sorrow, and hardships. when paired with a rose, denotes both pain and pleasure in the sense of love.

Year one, day one.

Azula slammed her hands onto the skin of her face, repeatedly making contact with her dry cheeks. She let out a deafening scream of anger, punching the wall next to her, leaving a dark black mark in its wake.

She’d been in her room for less than three hours and she was already going mad with boredom. 

The princess huffed, plopping herself down onto the twin-sized bed that was nestled in the corner of her so-called suite. 

She knew that Zuzu had done his best to give her the best commodities the Fire Nation could offer, but her former people weren’t exactly jumping to meet her pretentious living standards. 

Which was actually something that Azula somewhat understood. She knew deep down that what she had done was wrong—trying to kill the Avatar, trying to kill her mom, kidnapping the nation’s children, the whole gist. 

She’d done bad things, some really bad things in her past, but that’s all that it was—her past. Azula wanted to get better, she wanted to be better for not only Zuko, but for herself.

So she and her brother had devised a plan. A plan that would, in its entirety, take five years to complete. 

Zuko was giving Azula half a decade to prove to him that she could be good, truly good. Which to most would seem like quite a bit of time, but for Azula, she didn’t know if it would be enough.

She wrapped her arms around herself, warming her ice cold shoulders. Azula hadn’t been alone with her thoughts for this long in a while—and if she was being honest, there was nothing that scared her more than her own mind. 

“Princess?” She jumped, startled by the frail voice calling from the opposite side of her door. Azula hastily marched to the entrance, yanking it open in annoyance at whomever was bothering her chosen isolation.

Standing before her was a girl about her age, she couldn’t have been older than eighteen. She was holding a tray with various Fire Nation delicacies stacked on top of one another, steaming with heat and the kitchen’s aroma.

Azula rolled her eyes at the sight she was seeing. Of course Zuko had ordered for her to have a late dinner, he’d most likely been preoccupied with all of his new and earned Fire Lord duties.

“Come inside, peasant.” Azula gestured to the small dining table in the center of her confinement. She pulled out a chair for herself and expectantly looked at her companion with the expectation that she’d serve her. 

The other girl hustled, quickly placing the princess’s meal on the placemat and taking the seat opposite to her. She laced her hands together, her fingers tapping the wood nervously.

Azula threw her palms flat on the table. “What are you doing?” She questioned, interrogating her helper, who was cowering in her seat. “Does my brother expect you to monitor my meals? What damage could I possibly do with this slob? Start a food fight in the palace?”

Her uninvited guest took a deep breath, seemingly focusing her stress and fear into the idea of feeling zen. She swallowed hard, her gaze on Azula evolving from anxiety to empathy.

“Actually,” she trailed off, her lips rising into a thin smile. She looked into Azula’s golden eyes, searching for any signs of discomfort or rising anger. “The Fire Lord didn’t send me here, his advisors did.”

“The council knows that your brother has a soft spot for you.” She explained, watching as Azula slightly nodded her head along to her words. “Spirits, everyone knows that when it comes to you, he has no reason.”

“I’m only here to monitor and report your progress.” Azula scoffed at the thought of her father’s old council dictating the direction of her own life, but at least they’d sent someone she could relate to. A girl that she could actually form a conversation with.

A scowl flashed across Azula’s face as the admissions her companion had stated ran through her mind. No matter, at least she had some entertainment now.

“Do you have a name?” Azula asked pointedly as she began to pick at her meal. “Or should I just call you ‘Servant’, like I do with all of the others?”

The girl lightly laughed at the unintentional joke, finding humor in the thought of being stuck with the princess as nothing but her worker. She shook her head, smiling slightly, before responding.

“You can call me Y/N.”

Year one, day ninety-four.

“You’re late.”

Azula crossed her arms over her chest, huffing loudly as she attempted to seem angered by her new friend’s timing. She’d become well accustomed to the daily routine they’d developed over the past months.

Seeing Y/N was honestly the highlight of Azula’s day.

She’d never verbally admit that she enjoyed the kind girl’s company. That she felt refreshed by her positive and warm nature, that she relished in the judgement free outlook that Y/N had on life.

And Azula would never mentally admit to herself, that she may have developed unwanted feelings for her friend. 

She always told herself that love wasn’t real. After witnessing the so-called love her mother and father had shared first hand, Azula wasn’t necessarily looking forward to potential love in her future.

No matter who she was involved with.

“Sorry about that Azula.” Y/N hustled through the doorway, her hair tangled and dusted with dirt particles. She had a large scratch on her right cheek, most likely self inflicted. Y/N was clumsy like that.

Azula let out a short laugh. Taking in the appearance of her crush. She even makes dirt look good.

“I was running on time, but then I saw this adorable booth in the market and I just had to make a stop.” Y/N rambled, waving her hands in the air in exaggeration. Her cheeks were flushed red from her sprint through town, resembling the color of a blooming rose.

“As if it matters to me.” Azula shrugged nonchalantly in her best attempt to seem as if she didn’t care about her friend’s dilemma.

As if she didn’t care about every second of her day. As if Y/N’s overall excitement wasn’t the only thing that truly kept Azula going nowadays.

Y/N brushed off Azula’s feigned disinterest as if it was nothing. It wasn’t uncommon for the princess to ignore her daily shenanigans. Most of the time, she felt as if Azula didn’t even listen to anything she said.

Which Y/N had quickly realized not even weeks into their meetings, really really hurt her. It hurt her heart that Azula didn’t care, that she didn’t matter in her eyes.

In their time together, Y/N had developed inklings of feelings for the firebender as well. Feelings that she had come to internalize and push aside.

After all, it wasn’t her job to fall in love with her client. Her job was to help Azula learn to love her own people, to help her gain the love of her people.

“Well, Azula.” Y/N stumbled towards her friend, accidentally tripping over her own feet in embarrassment. She proceeded to hold out a single flower not yet in bloom. 

“This is what the vendor was selling.” She smiled warmly, letting Azula take the flower into her own hands. “It caught my eye, because it reminded me of you.”

Azula studied her gift. It was a red rose, the shade being so vibrant it could be compared to her brother’s firebending. The stem was thin, yet covered in thorns of various sizes. They prickled Azula’s fingers, puncturing her callouses. 

As she gazed at the budding rose, Azula realized how fitting the gift was to her. She had never been the kind of girl who longed for bouquets and sweets, but when coming from the right person, perhaps she was. 

Whilst she struggled to come up with a reply to her friend’s kindness, Y/N mentally applauded herself. She’d finally found a way to make Azula speechless.

“It’s not terrible, I suppose.” Azula threw the flower to the ground, lightly kicking it away from her with her right foot. She turned away from Y/N, not bothering to see the heartbroken look on her crush’s face.

“I’m sure that garbage was all you could afford anyways.”

Azula cringed as she heard the door close lightly. Her eyes were rimmed with tears, realizing that even while upset, Y/N would never respond to her own awfulness with anger.

She felt herself collapse, her knees buckling beneath her. Soft sobs escaped her lips, silent cries filling the hollow room. 

The sorrow-filled girl looked up from her lap with tear-filled eyes. Azula could see the faint outline of the young rose beside her. As she lifted the thorn covered flower with careful hands, she saw what Y/N had meant with the gift.

That Azula was dreadful and hurtful to others on the outside, but when encouraged and supported, she could become something beautiful.

Someone that could one day be compared to the beauty that was of a blooming rose.

As she sat alone, staring at the budding rose in her palms, Azula realized that she would only be able to become that person with the help of Y/N. She was the only person that had even come close to seeing her for who she truly was.

The only person who would think of giving a gift such as this to the princess of the Fire Nation. The only person who Azula had ever come to feel true and honest love towards. 

Azula had to become better. Not only for herself and Zuko—but for Y/N.

Year two, day one-hundred and six.

“Can I ask you something serious?”

Y/N rolled over to face Azula on her side, resting her elbow beneath her chin. She tilted her head while scrunching her nose in thought.

Azula was laying beside her, staring up at the dark vaulted ceiling. She’d been allowed to move back into her old bedroom at the palace with Zuko and his advisor’s permission, after they’d been informed of all of her progress with Y/N.

It was a room where Azula had never truly been comfortable in when she was younger, she used to feel so alone in the spacious and empty bedroom—but with Y/N’s company, she hadn’t felt alone in years. 

“That depends,” Azula responded, crossing her arms over her chest. She frowned, taking a moment to consider what Y/N could possibly ask her. “What is this serious question that you’re deliberating?”

Y/N dropped the arm that was supporting her upper body, allowing herself to fall back onto the soft red carpet. She stretched her arms out, nearly hitting Azula in the process before mimicking her friend’s position.

She let out a deep sigh as she closed her eyes tight. Her heartbeat raced in her chest, preparing herself for whatever reaction Azula could possibly have to her curiosity.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Azula nearly choked on air at the sound of Y/N’s words. She had to physically stop herself from bolting upright and leaving the room, before whipping her head around to give her crush a look of confusion.

“Love?” Azula cringed, pushing the thought of the emotion to the very depths of her mind. “That’s what you really wanted to ask me? If I’ve known love?”

The firebender could faintly see Y/N’s head nod in the darkness surrounding them. She lit a single flame from the tip of her pointer finger to get a better glimpse of Y/N’s beautiful face.

She could see the stress in her eyes—spirits, Azula could feel the anxiety rippling off of Y/N’s body in waves. She didn’t know why a question like this could possibly affect her companion in the way it was now. 

She didn’t know why it was affecting her in the exact same way.

“My parents were my only example of love when I was a child.” Azula shared, trusting Y/N with the inner secrets that she’d never verbally spoken before. “My mother left before I knew she even cared for me, and my father..”

Azula trailed off, not wanting to finish her sentence. Y/N pursed her lips at the princess’ silence, taking her shaking hand into her own soft palm. She rubbed her fingers against Azula’s, doing her best to comfort her during her confrontation with her past trauma.

“My father was a monster.” Azula grimaced, basking in the feeling of Y/N’s touch. The feeling of being so close, yet so far from the girl she was painfully in love with. “Their love wasn’t real, and I fear I’m so similar to my father that it’ll never be real for me either.”

Y/N gasped in disbelief. “Love is for anyone, ‘Zula. You just need to believe that one day, it’ll find you when you least expect it.”

Azula shook her head, refusing to face the fact that she had her love right in front of her. Someone who would care for her and understand her throughout all of her outbreaks and dilemmas. Someone that would choose her everyday, as long as she’d let her. 

“That’s unfortunate then.” Azula pried her hand from Y/N’s, shivering at the overwhelming feeling of emptiness. “Because I don’t believe in love.”

With that, Y/N was speechless. She’d expected something from Azula. Anything to affirm her suspicions that her crush was in love with her as well—but all she’d gotten in return was an answer even worse than rejection.

Azula groaned, sitting up from the floor and tucking her knees into her chest. “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”

Y/N took a minute to contemplate what she had asked. Azula mentally counted down the seconds of silence that followed her out-of-character question. 

“I think that I have.” Y/N pondered, lacing her own fingers together over her stomach. “But lately I’ve realized that they’ll never feel the same.”

“It’s about time that I move on, isn’t it?”

Azula barely heard the last words Y/N whispered under her breath. Her voice was so faint, it sounded like nothing but an echo in the void. She could tell that Y/N was frowning, but Azula had no idea how to make her smile.

And words couldn’t describe how much Azula loved her smile. There was nothing that she loved more to see. That bright, beaming grin and the gorgeous girl behind it—that girl always being Y/N.

Year three, day eighty-seven.

Azula stretched her arms above her head, the bright sun radiating beams of light around her. She felt a genuine grin spread across her face, brightening her features with honest happiness.

She’d just recently been given the privilege to roam the palace ground freely, and had chosen to spend every single day of the past week in the garden courtyard.

Being surrounded by the tall cherry blossom trees, the whistling birds, and the frail little turtle ducks gave Azula a sense of nostalgia that she never knew she had missed.

She used to shun the memories and longings of her past friends and family members, refusing to accept the fact that she had been the true problem in their relationship troubles. That she had caused all of their strife. 

But now, with the new idea of freedom on Azula’s mind, she finally understood how terrible she’d been. How unfairly she’d treated her peers and the people who had offered her guidance. She vowed to herself to never become that person again, that monster.

“Enjoying the warm weather?” Y/N called from the entrance of the courtyard, a large picnic basket in hand. 

Azula spun to face her friend, laughing at the sight of the mess Y/N had brought with her. She ran over to the girl, instantly taking a hold of the supplies she’d been lugging around with her.

Y/N smiled at Azula, overwhelmed with joy at the sight of her unprovoked helpfulness. She walked with the firebender, taking a seat in their usual spot under the largest pink tree.

She and Azula had grown in indescribable ways in the past years of knowing each other. They’d gone from nothing but strangers, to somewhat friends, and now best friends. 

Azula knew in her heart that Y/N was the only person who was real in her life. The only one who knew her in a way where she didn’t automatically shy away from the boldness and arguably maniacal tendencies Azula had.

She knew that if she ever really had a chance at love, it was with Y/N.

Which was the reason why today was so special for Azula. It was the day that she was planning to finally confess and accept the undeniable love and adoration that she held for Y/N.

“I hope you brought actual food,” Azula ripped off the lid of the basket, peering inside to find all of her favorite desserts made by the kitchen staff. She stuck her hand inside, grabbing a small fruit tart covered in bright red frosting.

“This is so much better than that garbage you gave me the first day we met.”

Y/N bursted out laughing, clutching her chest as her teeth sparkled in the sunlight. She scoffed, stealing the tart out of Azula’s hand, before taking a bite of it herself.

“Sorry, your majesty.” She rolled her eyes in amusement, giggling at Azula’s reaction to her thievery. “I wasn’t exactly allowed to choose what the Princess of the Fire Nation could eat.”

Azula smirked, shooting a short line of fire towards the delicacy in Y/N’s palm, scorching the remainder of the tart and obliterating it to ashes. “Don’t steal my food.”

Y/N blew the dust off of her lap, shaking down her body before smacking Azula’s shoulder. “Well, don’t set my food on fire.”

The two girls glared at each other, refusing to break eye contact in an unspoken staring contest. Y/N struggled to match Azula’s stone cold gaze, blinking hard before being overcome with a fit of giggles. 

Azula felt her cheeks flush red as her crush’s head fell into her lap. She gazed down on the hysterical girl, holding her cheeks between her hands. Before she could speak, Azula saw someone standing in the corner of her eye.

She looked up to find her Fire Lord brother shyly waving at them, one hand raised in the air while the other disappeared in the pockets of his grand robes. 

Her relationship with Zuko had greatly improved since the beginning of their arrangement. While she used to loathe the sight of his scarred face, now she had grown to find comfort in it. They’d finally become the family they should’ve always been.

“Zuzu?” Azula called out, confused as to why her brother was interrupting her time with Y/N. In all the time she’d spent with Zuko, he’d never been around when Y/N was there. “What is it that you need, brother?”

Zuko shrugged, now stuffing both hands into his pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels. He stuttered for a moment before pointing at Y/N, who’d just now noticed the prince standing at the distance.

“I need to speak with Y/N,” Zuko slightly chuckled, biting his lip as he tried to suppress a grin. “I have some business that we need to cover, it’ll only take a second.”

Azula had never seen Y/N move so quickly. Her friend was there for one minute and then the next thing she knew, her lap was empty—barren from the feeling of warmth and belonging she’d felt seconds before.

She watched in confusion as Y/N stood before Zuko. Her brother and her crush spoke at a comfortable distance, not too close, but also not far enough. Azula wrinkled her nose in disgust as she saw him ruffle Y/N’s hair, an act that she thought was only reserved for her.

They continued conversing, their voices too faint for Azula to hear. As the ‘deliberation’ concluded, she sighed seeing Y/N turn away from Zuko—only to see him take ahold of her forearm, pulling her close to his body.

Zuko took one of Y/N’s hands in his, before finally revealing what he’d been hiding beneath his robes the entire time. 

He offered Y/N a rose, a somewhat crumpled rose, but a rose nonetheless. It was a soft shade of orange, the petals oozing the same effect as Zuko’s flames. Even Azula could admit that it was beautiful, more beautiful than any flower she’d ever come across.

Azula frowned at the sight of her crush’s red cheeks. Why doesn’t Y/N have that reaction to her compliments anymore?

The princess internally gagged as Y/n reached up to wrap her arms around Zuko’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug before pressing a light kiss to his cheek. She waved a quick goodbye to him and skipped towards Azula, tripping over countless stones on her way back.

She plopped down onto the ground, delicately holding the large rose in her hands. Azula noticed the smooth stem of the flower, free of thorns and pain.

“I see you and my brother have quite a bit of explaining to do.” Azula deadpanned, dreading to hear what Y/N could possibly have to say about the kiss she shared with Zuko. 

Y/N huffed out a puff of air, pushing away the loose strands of hair that were blowing around her forehead. She sat back against the cherry blossom tree, a lovestruck grin stretched across her face. 

“I’d meant to tell you earlier, ‘Zula.” She explained, twiddling the rose between her fingers. “A lot earlier actually—months ago, even.”

“Zuko and I ran into each other on my way to your room one day, and we just really clicked.”

Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest, not from nerves but from the love that she felt for the kind Fire Lord. “We’ve been seeing each other since then and I think it’s going really well.”

“I think I’m in love with him.”

Azula felt her heart drop in that moment. She’d been anticipating a confession for the entirety of the day, though that confession was not the one she’d had in mind. 

Heartbreak was an unfamiliar feeling for Azula. Sure, she’d felt loneliness and emptiness before, but never this. She’d never known the true and utter despair of losing the one that you love to someone else. Someone that is undeniably better in every way.

Azula knew she’d never shine in comparison to Zuko in this new world—but she had thought that she was the diamond to Zuko’s rock in Y/N’s eyes.

But perhaps she was nothing more than a friend in the eyes of Y/N.

Year four, day two-hundred and two.

“I have news!” Y/N sprinted down the beach, sand flying everywhere as she giddily ran towards Azula. “Big big news that you’ll love to know!”

Azula raised an eyebrow at Y/N’s natural chaos, she’d never seen her so utterly unruly and dismantled. What could possibly cause her to act this way?

By the time she reached the seashore, Y/N was out of breath. She collapsed onto the sand, shrieking as the tide came in and brushed against her bare feet.

“Calm down, crazy! Don’t get that debris all over my new swimsuit!” Azula shouted, confused by how jumpy she was acting.

The only other time Y/N had come close to acting this way was when she and Azula had gone to see the famous play rights in the Fire Nation colonies, and ended up laughing at all of the ridiculousness they displayed.

“Sorry, sorry!” Y/N laughed, shaking the sand out of her clothes and hair. The state of being she was in reminded her of their early days together. Specifically the day Y/N had given Azula her favorite gift ever.

The budding rose covered in thorns.

“I’m just so excited.” Y/N went on and on describing her joy, her hands were waving in the air dramatically gesturing here and there to absolutely nothing. Azula wasn’t even listening to whatever she was saying, just admiring how pretty she looked in the sun.

“Take a breath, it’s not like we don’t have all day.” Azula chimed in, stopping Y/N from completely combusting with energy. She patted the seat next to her, nodding in approval as the girl she loved gladly took the spot.

Y/N wrapped her arms around Azula’s waist, laying on the towel beside her. She hummed in content at the platonic gesture she was showing her friend. Azula however was racing at Y/N’s touch, confused by the intimacy of it all.

Azula shrugged off her feelings, instead choosing to trace circles over Y/N’s back. Easing the girl out of her excitement and into a state of quietness and relaxation. 

Silence overtook the two girls, the only sound being the splashing waves upon the nation’s coast. Azula stared blankly at the soft currents, seeing them rise and fall over the shoreline. She wished she could come and go like them.

That way she wouldn’t have to witness first hand the love between Y/N and Zuko. The love between the girl she saw as her soulmate and her own brother.

“Zuko proposed.” Y/N whispered, an unintentional smile gracing her lips. The unconditional love she felt for him was so visible, the perfect stranger would be able to pick up on it. “And I said yes.”

Azula swallowed hard, feeling tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She let the waterworks drip down her cheeks, feeling like a run down battery with no energy left to hide her sadness. 

Y/N sat up, startled by the sparse water droplets hitting the back of her neck. She gasped, concerned by Azula’s obviously helpless emotional state. She reached up, taking Azula’s face in her hands while wiping her tears away.

“What’s wrong?” She asked in concern, doing her best to comfort the crying girl. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Azula’s in an attempt to hold her close. “It’s alright, ‘Zula. You can tell me anything.”

“You know that I’m always here for you.”

In the storm of confusion and sadness that was raging in Azula’s mind, she did the one thing that she had promised herself she’d never do. She followed through with her own selfish wish of jeopardizing Zuko and Y/N’s relationship.

Y/N’s eyes opened wide in shock as Azula’s lips touched her own. 

The firebender poured all of her emotions into the one-sided kiss, not realizing that Y/N was unresponsive. The latter girl was frozen in place, trying her best to process what was exactly happening in the moment.

She’d dreamt of this moment, the time where Azula would finally admit that she had feelings for her too—but she hadn’t had those dreams in years. Those dreams had ended once Azula had said that love wasn’t real.

As Azula pulled away, tears still dripping down her chin, Y/N had a look of bitterness on her face. Her normally beautiful and positive features were overcome with anger and distrust.

“Why would you do that?” She cried, her eyes turning bloodshot red. Y/N stood hastily, backing away from her friend, holding her hands in front of her to show that she didn’t want Azula following her. “You know you shouldn’t have done that.”

Azula screamed in frustration as she watched Y/N storm away back in the direction of the palace. She grabbed fist-fulls of sand, flinging them at the sea and shooting blasts of blue fire in the air. 

She had perhaps ruined the best friendship she’d had in her entire life. All because she couldn’t keep her love to herself. Her true and overwhelming love for Y/N.

Year five, the last day.

“Are you prepared, Princess Azula?”

Azula stared into the mirror in front of her, seeing nothing but a coward in her reflection. She nodded absentmindedly to the servant that was serving her, doing her hair, dressing her, whatever it was that servants do.

She ordered her to leave the room, wishing to be alone for the remainder of the time she had to herself. There was a big event today, the biggest in the entire Fire Nation.

It was the wedding of the Fire Lord and his bride-to-be.

Azula would be lying to herself if she said that she hadn’t been dreading this day ever since Y/N had told her about the engagement that day on the beach—for that was the last day she’d even spoken to Y/N.

The former best friends hadn’t seen each other in months. Not because they were too busy or forgetful, but because Azula was too embarrassed to contact the girl. She was ashamed of her actions and regretted them wholeheartedly.

After all that time in the dark, Azula was shocked that she’d gotten an invitation to their ceremony. She didn’t think they’d want her present after what she’d done.

But here she was, all dolled up to watch the woman she loved marry the man she’d always been jealous of. Zuko had their mother’s love, the honor she’d always wanted, and the person she was supposed to spend her life with.

Sure his life had been nothing but hard since the minute he was born, but in the end Zuko was the better one out of the two of them. He was the one who was truly deserving of all of the power and glory that was their birthright. 

Azula glared at herself in the mirror’s glass, remembering the last time she’d looked at her reflection in such a distraught mood. She shook her head at the memory, choosing instead to pull open the small drawer of her vanity.

Inside was a long and thin wooden box, locked with a golden pad. She took the necklace tucked into her dress and fit the key charm into the socket, twisting it open.

Her hands reached into the keepsake, carefully gripping the decaying rose from its hiding place.

For four years she’d had the gift, and in those four years Azula had managed to find help from the plantbenders of the swamp to discover a way to keep the rose alive. 

However she’d become careless after her falling out with Y/N, forgetting completely about the flower, only remembering its existence in that very moment.

She spun the flower in her palms, wincing at the prickling feeling of the small thorns on the side. The rose still hadn’t bloomed, she’d told the plantbenders that she preferred it that way no matter their interjections.

Azula wanted to have the gift exactly how Y/N had meant it for her, it was more meaningful that way.

Fire raced up the stem of the rose, encasing the wilting petals in flames. Azula watched intensely as the flower turned to nothing more than ash and dust, all that was left was the four thorns she’d chosen to spare.

She poured the little dust she had back into the box, locking it with her necklace before taking the thorns with her and out the door. She was running on a tight schedule and wouldn’t for the life of her, miss the wedding.

The ceremony had begun beautifully. Romantic music surrounded the guests, filling their ears with the selection of tunes that Zuko and Y/N had hand picked. Orange roses erupted from the vases and archways in the courtyard, reminding Azula of her fateful picnic with Y/N.

She clutched the thorns in her palm at the thought of her, telling herself that this was always meant to happen.

Y/N deserved someone like Zuko. Someone good and loving, someone who would never turn their back on her. She was deserving of the entire world, and Azula never would’ve been able to give that to her.

She wasn’t meant to have Y/N’s love. She’d always known that, and now it was just time for her to accept it, move on, and cut her ties. Her future was nearing, and her new sister-in-law was not a part of it. 

Perhaps this was a positive, a truly good thing to come from the constant struggle that she’d faced since childhood.

After all, she could finally leave her prison. Abandon her memories in replace of new ones where she wasn’t the fire princess, where she was simply Azula—just Azula.

TAGS: @practicallylivesonline @cherryskyies @shell-bells-ringding @xapham @mochminnie @lammello​ @bombardia​

[enha-woodzies]

➸ CHAPTER 5 | " ILLICIT AFFAIRS "

starring: enhypen ft. i-land daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

word count: 1.8k

taglist: @serendipitysung @angeljungwon @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @fluffi @gyeraniee @stxrryemxlys

[ PREV. CHAPTER ] | [ M. LIST ] | [ NEXT CHAPTER ]

“The morning sun has come, and the evening moon is gone. Dearlings, I am elated to apprise you of the events at the debutantes’ ball that occurred as of late, and must I warn you, they're not for the feeble spirits!

The ton is abuzz with the most beefy tale as Northumberland’s jewel among the lovely rocks, Miss Y//n Park, has earned herself a ticket to glory! She danced with the most favored noblemen in the ton and surely, she went home with a hearty grace as she'll most likely expect an abundant roster of suitors in the following days.

Not only was she offered a dance by our dear second-born, Lord Yang, but she also had the privilege and pleasure to be twirled around the court by the most charming, Lord Lee, and the ever coveted nobleman among the ton, Lord Park, the next-in-line Duke of Northumberland!

Where's the beef you might ask? Well, it seems to me that these men are blindfoldedly playing fire with each other.

Not only does Lord Lee has women wrapped easily around his fingers, he has men too! With a sly steal of Miss Y/n’s hand from Lord Yang last night, he certainly left the chap earnestly plotting for a segue of intrusion- and Lord Yang intriguingly delivered!

With the timing in its most opportune, Lord Yang managed to finally dance with the young miss, in private! Ooh! This is new! My senses told me they spent their waltz in the Queen’s library, alone! How in the world did they let this happen to the ton’s jewel unchaperoned? That is something the Daily Tattle is unfortunately unable to unearth, but the mystery will continue to haunt us for long. Do take note: the more you hide in careful secret, the more people will know and hear about it.

What happened next will have you either boggled, or enchanted! The young lord abruptly rushed out the room before the music even ended! Should that be counted as a waltz at all? Before you ask about the enchanting part, Miss Y/n was seen dashing out the room moments later in tears and evident heartache. What do you think happened in the mere minutes of alone time in that large 4-cornered room?

But come now, enchanting stories aren't as they are without a knight in shining armor. In fact, in our young miss’ case, her knight wasn't clad in shining, silver sheath, but in magnificent and elegant, vintage red tailcoat draped over a loose white jabot shirt that’s cleanly tucked into the black, satin knee breeches, finished off with a pair of shiny Hessian boots. With skin as white almost akin to snow, it complemented perfectly with his ravishing fit. The beautiful marquess certainly dressed himself valiantly for the seasonal occasion. With that stunning presence, anyone would surely presume he went to the ball looking like a duke in careful search of a duchess.

Lord Park and Miss Y/n surprisingly became one of the ball’s highlights as they graced the Royal Court with the most heart-stopping, corset-itching, tantalizing waltz. All the while their faces are almost an inch apart from each other, a brooding identity was found hiding in the crowded corner of the hall! Under the bright gleam of the grand chandeliers, our dearest second-born, Lord Yang, was seen eyeing the two with such stare that even the buffy slice of vanilla cake on Lord Sunoo’s plate could almost melt in a blink of an eye!

Among the splendid tales told by yours truly, which tea do you think tastes like sweet ecstasy of oddity and fervor? It is the ton's tradition to portend the lady’s endgame by the person whom she had her last waltz with. From one man to another, should these prophecies dictate Miss Y/n Park’s fate?

Well, don't turn your heads away now! The story's just begun.”

The mid-morning sunrays peek through the large leaves and busty trunks of the hibernating redwood trees lining in disarray. Y/n is just about to plummet into her habitual readings in the Kielder forest and the autumnal breeze is keeping up with her bubbly morning approach, fortunately.

The sounds of the birds chirping and the dead leaves crunching under her shoes creep up through her puff sleeves making her tingle in giddiness and enthusiasm. She deeply inhales the aromatic forest and lets out a giggle in the process. With jumpy leaps and crispy leaves echoing in her every move, the young lady surely knows where she's going in this partly mysterious forest that is most often open only to men and men alone.

Somewhere deep in the evergreen woods, Y/n has built a fortress of her own for whenever she needs to run away from the seldom, mundane life in the manor. At the heart of Northumberland's famous Kielder Forest, lies a small, whimsical looking fort made up of translucent voile casually hanging on a tree branch. One of her lady maids helped her out with the fabric one time and it still stood prettily among the chaotic scenes that go around in the forest today.

She enters her slightly sheer fort and sits down on a pillow that she stole away from the comforts of her bedroom. Flipping the olden pages of the aged Jane Austen book she borrowed from a boy several years back, she heaves a sigh at the sight of a dead Catalpa flower resting on a particular page accompanied by a little, worn out parchment dating back to when she was a tiny ten-year-old lassie. She reads,

Her eyes drifted over the page to where the note and the old flower were situated. The pads of her fingers graze over the certain phrases that were underlined by the book's owner that says, “I cannot make speeches. If l loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am.一 You hear nothing but truth from me.一”

She suddenly feels a gush of nostalgia and loneliness upon muttering the words she had ultimately carved in her tongue way back; reciting each word with fervor while she bask herself under the brightly-lit moonlight in their garden. How can children of ten gobble up such emotions at once? So much for a pair of hopeless romantic hearts from the distant years of ten, screaming disagreements and would later huddle on a sprawled out table cloth on the flowery fields, exchanging sentimental poesies and stolen stares.

She relives the brief moments they both shared last night in the Queen’s library, and ponders on how one could be so adjacent to the changing of tides in the sea; promptly, and mostly without warning.

“Well, well, well. If it isn't the feelings I've been trying to avoid.” She whispers to the autumn air. Unfortunately, her pondering truncates as snaps of twigs and crisps off dried leaves echoes in her corner. She hastily crawls out her hand-made canopy and brushes away any pieces of tiny crumpled leaves off her dress.

“What are you doi-”

“Who are you?” She cuts off the startled chap cladded in ragged clothing, apparently embodying that of a mainland farm boy.

“Greetings, your ladyship. I come in peace and I am just here to fetch the chopped woods I’ve laboured a day prior for the farm.” The chap with a very odd accent replies with both hands hanging mid-air. “You are fully aware that you shouldn't be in this place, especially unchaperoned, right?” He continues.

“I am fully aware. But such matters shouldn't concern you.”

“Indeed, my apologies. Furthermore, I will respect your unspoken wishes if it is truly your desire to keep your whereabouts hidden from your townspeople. My lady.”

Y/n relaxes from her bold stance as she found a hint of kindness from the odd stranger. Surprisingly, she extends her hand out to the stranger for a greeting.

“Please. Call me Y/n instead.” The boy looks at her open palm for half a minute before shaking it, looking as equally surprised as the young miss with the sudden gesture.

“You live pretty far from the town, huh?”

“I do. Life's utterly chaotic over on your end?”

“Oh, you don't have the slightest idea.” They both share laughters and inside jokes of their own livelihood that made the young miss settle her shoulders down comfortably.

“I'm Jake Sim. Just Jake Sim. Apparently, my name was originally Jaeyun, but the farm folks got used with Jake and so did I. They said it sounds more Australian.”

“Why would they associate your name with something Australian?” Y/n grew more curious as it was, after all, the first time she's ever been with a person that's not of Northumberland's proper.

“I grew up in Australia.”

“That's curious. How did an Australian boy land among the ragged farms of Europe?”

“It's complicated. The story involves a lot of conspiracies so it's definitely not for your ears. Some other time, maybe?” Y/n smirks at the sudden brazenness from her newly found acquaintance.

“Is this an Australian thing where we shift from acquaintanceship to something more?” She teases.

“Certainly, if you're down to it on your next Kielder visit?”

“For sure. But as for now, I must take my leave. My presence is very much needed for the promenade scheduled for me today.” Y/n half-covers her mouth as if reaching out for a whisper, hissing the last sentence.

“Ah! Rich people things that I could never.” The chap could only roll his eyes at the fancy thought.

“See you soon, Just Jake Sim!”

“Where have you been, princess?” The young miss scoffs at the marquess upon arriving at the town’s park, with a hand immediately sliding through Lord Park’s arm.

“Down with the flirtatious remarks now, aren't we? I went to promenade with myself, Your ever handsome Grace.” Sunghoon smirks at her tiny, playful whispers against his shoulders. They go around and about, traipsing along the cemented pavements as they give away acknowledging nods and polite smiles to whomever wants their brief attention.

The ton is still in amazed shock at the possibility of these two ending up with a ring on a finger. Everyone was subtly betting for Jungwon but as a result of his loss, a much better gent carried his girl off the floor. Something he let himself do, out of cowardice perhaps, or out of pride.

“Remind me the point of all this?” Y/n carefully whispers to Sunghoon.

“To make your man jealous and spit out his genuine sentiments in the process, as well as an advantage for me as we get to keep the marriage-minded mothers of the ton at bay. Now, all we have to do is smile, nod, and appear madly in love with each other if this is to work. Is it clear enough for you?” He jerks a brow at her paired with the most charming smirk he could ever expose.

“Crystal.”

*send me an ask or a message if you wish to be added on this series' taglist!

ㅡ © ENHA-WOODZIES, 2021

[darkdevasofdestruction]

A Zhang Of Redness ~ Yin Zhen x Reader

Warning: The first part has some angst to fluff, yet, if you’re brave enough to read the “Sad Ending”, then I warn you, I cried at least 6 times reading it, and 5 times at night, thinking about how to write it properly, all while listening to sad flute and zither ancient Chinese songs. I may need help.

Also, I forgot to explain, in case people don’t know:

Meimei - Term for younger sister. Jiejie - Term for older sister. Niangniang - Term for someone above in title, like an Empress or a Noble Consort. Changzai -  First-Class Female Attendant, called ‘Present’, and was the 2nd lowest title in the harem. Daying -  Second-Class Female Attendant, called ‘Promise’, lowest title in the harem. Hua Fei - It can vary as a title, but it refers to an Imperial Noble Consort. A Zhang of Redness - One of the 5 punishments from Qing Dynasty : Beating someone over the back, butt or the back of their legs with a some sort of bamboo or wooden bat/cane/rod until the tendons/muscles/bones were crushed, there was lots of blood, and the person either died or became paralysed from waist down.

Also, I got inspiration from watching the Chinese Period Drama ‘Empresses in the Palace/Legend of Zhen Huan’ that focuses on the Harem during the reign of Emperor Yongzheng, aka Yin Zhen, the 4th Prince, and Duke Guo is the 17th Prince, his brother, very young, and very close to him

“Now, Y/N, you and your sisters are of age, so you must go serve the Emperor. It will bring our family the greatest honour should you be selected as a concubine for the Emperor and bring a Prince into this world.” the father put his hands on Y/N’s shoulders, making her look at him with a blank expression, masking her disdain and disgust with excellence. “We are honoured to serve and serve our family and His Majesty, the Emperor.” she bowed gracefully, speaking with an adult maturity that many would envy. “Very well. Take care of your sisters. The Palace is a cruel place, but you, above all, must prevail and bring your sisters up with you.” were the last words her father spoke before sending off his three daughters into the carriage, ready to go with the ‘reaping’, as the eldest would call it.

Unlike her younger siblings, she prayed not to be accepted, since it would be the worst thing that could happen to her and she’d rather die than have to live in eternal imprisonment, having an old man touch her body and impregnate her, despite him being the Emperor himself.

When the three of them arrived at the Palace, and she saw the swarm of girls dressed the same, with the same accessories and hairstyles, she almost felt like puking, although she couldn’t blame them, since that’s how this lame fashion dictates.

She was the only one standing out, much like a sore thumb, completely different, both in appearance and clothing, which made her anxious and nervous, knowing very well how she will be the target of bullying, and in turn, deflect it to her unfortunate sisters as well.

Y/N was the only woman with vibrant red hair and green eyes like the evergreen forest, for her father is an Imperial merchant, and her mother was a foreigner, the most beautiful being alive, that could even compare to the Gods, and yet, the very same Gods she worshipped were cruel to her, as when she gave birth to the twins, she perished, leaving her husband heartbroken and alone to take care of his three daughters.

She didn’t wear any headpiece, nor had any intricate hairstyles, preferring to keep the upper part of her hair in a beautiful rose bun, while the lower part was let loose to cascade past her shoulders, down to her waist, like a fire waterfall. She didn’t use heavy make up, only choosing to highlight her eyes and bring out the shrewdness and brilliance in them. She didn’t wear any jewellery, save for some beautiful pink flowers carefully placed in her hair. She didn’t wear heels, for she was taller than most petite girls, and didn’t want to stand out more than she already did, and of course, she didn’t need them to highlight her grace and dignity. And, most of all, she didn’t wear the traditional clothes that every girl did, instead, worse a long, flowy dress, green, with flowers of a darker, more vibrant green - A dress that suit her like she was the embodiment of Spring, and her slender silhouette was shown off beautifully - Because, after all, this was the dress her mother sew specifically for her in the period while she was pregnant.

When the time finally came for her to present herself in front of the Emperor and the Empress Dowager, the six women walked in a straight line, in front of the Imperials...Only to see a little surprise.

Seven of his sons were there to attend, for one of them were to one day become Emperor, and they must know how things must be done.

“You...You are Y/N, I see. When your father mentioned you were beautiful, just like your mother, I couldn’t believe there could be someone even greater than Diaochan or Yang Guifei.” the Emperor chuckled, looking down at her. “Your Majesty, pardon my rudeness, yet truly, you must jest. My face does not put flowers to shame, nor does it embarrass Mother Moon herself. Likewise, I would say I that...That there are other women in history that would fit me better, should you truly wish to compare me.” she could feel the intrigued, burning gazes of everyone, and it took everything she had not to visibly gulp or show any kind of emotion. “Raise, child, and look at me. Who would you think I should compare you to?” the Emperor so gracefully talked, with the same dignity that any Imperial must have, yet now, it seemed to be warmer. “Tan Yunxian.” she spoke bluntly, her green eyes not wavering as she held eye contact with the Emperor. “Tan Yunxian...You are a bold one to speak like that. You are a sharp woman, intelligence is obviously sparkling in your eyes, you know what you want from life, and you choose to be branded a witch by practicing the medical arts that only men do and risk death, instead of aiming for a peaceful and resourceful life as a wealthy concubine and bring honour to your father. Why is that?” he asked once again, which made her bow, but not look away from him. “Most people tell the gender of a rabbit by its movement: The male runs quickly, while the female often keeps her eyes shut. But when the two rabbits run side by side, Can you really discern whether I am a he or a she? That is my reply to your question, and I would beg you to forgive my rudeness by speaking so directly, but this was never the life that fit me. The only arts that suit me are the exact ones - Healing, Calculus, Atrology, Physics, Alchemy...My sisters are much better at the arts of the heart, but I prefer to make a difference on this world. Too many women preferred to let themselves die because of scrutiny - A woman should rather starve to death than lose her chastity - they said, yet, for me, life is a sacred gift and should be treasured above all. There are no female physicians in the palace, Your Majesty, and males cannot fully comprehend the pains of a woman, nor can they properly treat one. With your grace, should you choose not to kill me, I would very much like to serve the Emperor with the way fate dictated my strengths.” she spoke without any hint of fear in her heart, already waiting for her death penalty to be told, and yet, the Emperor chuckled and looked to his right, sharing a look with one of his sons, the one dressed in vibrant gold, the one whose eyes resembled his the most. “My son, I see you are interested in this one as well. Tell me, what would you do, should you meet someone as peculiar as this one?” the Emperor asked, letting him have the final say in it. “She quotes the Ballad of Mulan so boldly, as if she herself is Mulan. Do you remember, Father, that in some stories, when Mulan was forced to join the Harem, she chose to commit suicide? I see this one none the wiser. With the proper training, she could prove to save more lives than most of those useless physicians could, I would say. She has enough fire and ambition...But What if she wavers in front of dangers?” the 4th Prince asked, almost rhetorically, only for his older brother, the 3rd Prince, to chime in. “Let’s see, then.” he shrugged, motioning for an eunuch to step forward. “Should you be able to keep looking into my eyes for the whole trial, your position as a physician will be locked.” the 4th Prince mused, his dark eyes peering into her jade like ones, and it seemed almost as if they were in a trance, and nothing around them existed anymore.

The little eunuch threw water at her feet, yet she nonchalantly stepped over it with no second thought. They made loud noises behind her, or close to her ear, yet her only interest was the beautiful dark shade of the Prince’s eyes. The test continued on, until the Prince walked forward and drew his sword, putting the tip under her chin, raising it. The silence created tension for everyone, causing her sisters to gasp and hold tightly onto each other from fear, while some labourers were confused and panicked at the sight before them, while the two only got deeper and deeper enchanted by the other. It wasn’t until one of the Gugu matrons stepped forwards with a cat held in her arms and threw it at the ground violently that the girl slapped the blade away and let herself fall to her knees to catch the poor feline, then rose back again, gently petting and calming the animal, while throwing a harsh glare at the elder woman, before turning back again to the Prince.

“You lost the trial.” he said, yet mischief was glittering in his beautiful eyes. “Life over all. ALL life over all.” she pointed out, stepping closer to the Prince, and as soon as she knew she was completely hidden by his much larger form, she smirked at him, challengingly, which made him scoff in amusement right back at her. “You lost the trial, but won the position with your virtuous, unwavering heart. Father, with your approval, I will be responsible of her, and she will be my personal physician, and the physician of all the women in the palace. Her thinking is mature, righteous and ahead of her times.” the Prince bowed in front of his father, vouching for the girl next to him, who could only look in shock at the Imperial Son who seemed to trust her so. “I dare not deserve such baseless praise. Wait until I have achieved anything of significance.” she bowed next to the Prince, letting the cat go back to its owner. “Very well, I approve of your request. From now on, Lady Y/N shall be promoted to Lady Shuyu, the Wise and Virtuous Lady, she will be taught by the imperial physicians and will report directly to you, 4th Prince. Likewise, she will be staying at the Palace closest to the Imperial Library, yet, I believe I should change its name, since it needs renovation. Do you have any preferences?” the Emperor asked, as the girl was bashfully looking at the ground, not believing that her dreams were finally becoming reality. “Father, if I may, I would suggest - Palace of the Blue Lotus - for it is the symbol of victory, intelligence, wisdom and knowledge, something that My Lady seems to be the embodiment of. I heard it once being called - The Perfection of Wisdom - and I believe it fits her very well. Look at her, with her outfit and hair, she almost looks like a Lotus flower herself, wouldn’t you say?” the 3rd Prince commented, making the Emperor nod in approval. “Very well, I agree with you, 3rd Prince. Then, Lady Y/N, until your Palace is completely renovated, you will be staying at 4th Prince’s Palace and have him look after you.” the Emperor’s order made her eyes widen and cheeks redden from embarrassment, yet she gracefully bowed in thanks for the Emperor. “Your Majesty is benevolent and kind above all, I thank you for giving me a chance.” she spoke in a much softer voice. “Look at this one, she can be anything she wants. A Hua Mulan, a Diaochan...Yet, above all, I believe she could even be the next Wu Zetian, wouldn’t you say, my Son?” the Empress Dowager spoke with a gentle smile, which made the girl gasp and bow to the ground, flustered. “Your Highness, I am undeserving of such praise! I am but a mere woman who wishes the best for her peers, but I will never be able to get close to Wu Zetian’s greatness!” she spoke rapidly, not daring raise her face to them, only to receive chuckles and laughs from the audience. “She may not be the next Wu Zetian, but she may as well be the first Y/N L/N.” the 4th Prince teased the girl as he offered his hand to help her to her feet, before pinching her reddening cheek. “Indeed, indeed! But what should I make of your sisters? You say they are talented in arts, correct? Then, I will accept them, and wait for the time they can heal my soul with their magic and grace.” the Emperor’s eyes held amusement, as all three sisters bowed in unison. “Your Majesty is great and kind above all.” 

And so, for the first time in their life, the sisters were separated from each other. While the twins enjoyed a palace to themselves and another high ranked concubine, Y/N was comfortably staying in 4th Prince’s Palace, having just one trusty maid, for more would be a hindrance, and dressing in whatever comfortable clothes she wished to wear, sown by her and her maid.

She wasn’t a fan of sewing, but she practiced it regularly because she believed having dexterous fingers meant you would be a great physician, so she continued her work, using the softest cotton bolts brought from Western countries, and she made a beautiful light pink nightgown along with a pair of shorts and embroidered small purple flowers, and since then, her sleep has been the best she’s ever had... Although the silks from her bed must have added to the comfort as well.

As thanks for the Prince, the girl decided to sew a blue pyjama from the cotton, Western bolts for the Prince with whom she was residing, and used Chinese threads of gold and violet to embroider dragons on it, wanting to make a little play on the Western symbols of royalty.

Days passed way too quickly in the Palace, as the 4th Prince was excellent company and would humour her often with a cup of tea and a lost game of chess since truly, he wasn’t the best at it yet, but the quick exchanges of wit were worth the time spent there.

When she wasn’t by his side, she would go to the swing in the Garden of Peaches all by herself and swing herself high, almost as if she was trying to reach the sky, and when returning, she would let herself lean down, to watch the clouds, all while laughing in complete freedom, just like the tale of the Crane Wife.

Every time she would stop swinging, she would take out her jade flute and, unbeknownst to her, the Prince would hide just to hear her play with such skill and emotion that it truly moved him, and he had to admit, the saddest song she played, Autumn Moon over Han Palace, the one that truly depicts the cruelty with which the young and innocent souls of young women get crushed in the palace, only to be rewarded with misfortunes and sorrow, and he knew then that there was no way he would let anyone harm her.

The Emperor made him look after her, and so, he will.

“4th Prince, now that I shall not be living in your Palace anymore, I should thank you for your hospitability and kindness for the time I bothered you and invaded your privacy. Please accept my humble gifts for you, as a thank you for all the goodness you’ve showed me.” she personally handed him the boxes of gifts, since it was too personal to let her maid handle this matter. “I thank you for the gifts, yet you need not thank me for something so trivial. Congratulations in moving in your own Palace, little Lotus, but don’t forget that this has been your home too, and you are always welcomed here. I have also sent you gifts at your new residence, I wish you will use them with a smile on your face.” the prince spoke, putting the boxes on the table and petting her hair gently. “Without all the snark and witty comments, I almost don’t recognise you, Yin Zhen. Could you perhaps be ill?” she scoffed in amusement, making the man flick her forehead. “Going by how red your cheeks are, I’d say you’re the one who caught a fever.” he spoke with an obvious undertone. “How rude of you, Prince! Don’t you know it’s unfair to tease a lady?” she pointed out with a flustered scowl on her face. “Sister, weren’t you the one who once that that if a man teases a woman, he must be in love with her?” a soft, yet playful voice came from behind Y/N, which made her yelp in surprise and turn around in shock. “You’re horrible sisters, you know that, don’t you? I only said that so you’d feel good about your little, young selves, when the general’s son came over to visit father!” she sighed, looking away. “He doesn’t matter anymore! Now, look at you, the most favoured woman in the Palace by the Emperor, the Empress, the Dowager AND the Princes! We couldn’t compete with that, even now that we both served the Emperor and we were barely given the title of “Changzai”, and that’s mostly thanks to your influence and the fact that you helped the Lady of Morality give birth to the Princess.” Liyan spoke out, tugging on one of the arms of the elder sister. “It’s a bit weird if you think about it. Y/N Jiejie is over here, falling for the Emperor’s son, while we are pillow mates with the Emperor. He’s older than father!” Xiyan spoke so shamelessly, tugging on the other arm, that it made the poor elder sister blush deeply, and putting her hands on the back of their heads, she hit their heads together. “Liyan Meimei and Xiyan Meimei should learn how to be less vulgar and have some shame! Now, if you would excuse me, I must go do a regular check up on the Noble Consort’s pregnancy, I have no time for your foolish nonsense. I bid you all farewell.” she gave a sarcastic bow to the three before rushing out of that place. “I haven’t seen Jiejie so flustered before. Remember when that young poet came over and started playing the zither and singing for her, and she still turned him down?” Xiyan giggled, intertwining her fingers with her twin. “Yes, I remember! And it was the famous JiKang, the best zither player in the country! It’s a pity, really, I remember Jiejie saying how much she’d have liked to be free and travel the world, but she has to honour her duty to her family, otherwise she will be a disgrace and get killed.” Liyan sighed, looking away. “If your sister heard you gossiping like that about her, she’d get very upset at you. Now run along, you two.” Yin Zhen commented with a hint of playfulness, ushering the two sisters to scatter.

Days and nights went by fast, and Y/N was quickly climbing the ranks of a physician due to her hard working and witty disposition, and yet, when winter came and snow started falling hard, and the Consort was now 5 months pregnant, and need to have her regular check up.  As Y/N gave her the medicine to drink, the consort started screaming in pain and collapsed on the bed, her nether regions bleeding. She was having a miscarriage. With the help of a few maids and physicians, she managed to stop the bleeding and keep her stable, but she knew very well it would be hell once everyone finds out about the loss of the Imperial offspring...

And the consort was a truly vengeful one.

“How could you...?! How could you?! You insolent wretch, you made me lose my child!” the consort was livid, thrown things at the girl who was trying to calm her down. “Hua Fei Niangniang, what have you been eating and drinking recently? Perhaps there may have been something put in your food or tea? Or perhaps the fragrances or incenses?” she tried to ask, but it was to no avail. The consort was so upset that the Emperor himself, along with the Empress, the Dowager, the Harem and the Princes had to come and console her. “Emperor! Emperor! This stupid bitch is jealous that you favour me and made sure I have a miscarriage! It happened just as I drank the medicine from her!” the consort threw herself in the Emperor’s arms, sobbing loudly. “Medicine takes at least half a day to act, and you barely took a sip from it. I’m asking again, has your food and drink intake been properly taken care of?” Y/N asked once again, in a gentle voice, hoping to have an answer...But none came, only screeches. “You vile devil! You came here to have all women of the Harem miscarry! You want favour all to yourself! That’s why you walk around the Princes like a fox, drawing them in! You’re a lust demon! Get the guards and take her! Make her punishment be fitting to her hair! A Zhang of Redness!” she shrieked, making all the women gasp in shock. “Your Highness, I have nothing to do with Niangniang’s miscarriage. You can have any physician look over the tea I prepared and all the prescriptions I gave her, and none of them hold any abortifacient plants. I rest my case, and I will investigate the causes of the miscarriage, and should it have been my mistake, I will accept such a punishment. If not, then I beg for Your Majesty’s mercy.” Y/N bowed deeply to the ground in front of the Emperor, who seemed to nod in understanding. “Very well. I won’t offer you much time, but until then, you have all resources at hand. Everyone is dismissed.” and thus, they all left...Except for the 4th Prince who crouched and helped the girl up, his expression unreadable. “You truly know how to get yourself in trouble, don’t you?” he spoke with obvious concern. “Though I withdraw my sword to cut the water, it still runs. I toast to dispel worry, and create more worry…The water still flows, though we cut it with our swords, And sorrow returns, though we drown it with wine…” she muttered, looking ahead of her, in the void of emptiness that became her heart. “You once said you were not talented in arts, yet here you are, quoting Li Bai. You will always be a surprise, won’t you?” Yin Zhen cast her a half smile, which she returned. “It only fits. Now go. The Emperor will have my head should I let a man rummage through a woman’s belongings.” she sighed, turning around to investigate the place, while hearing the taunts of the consort...Until she found a cup that oddly smelled like green papaya, and a mortar and pestle that still had some cinnamon and pomegranate seeds powder in it. Afraid that the consort would realise she found the incriminatory objects, she took out a bag and threw it on the table, feigning that she putting all her medical belongings back in the bag, only to have the cup and mortar taken as well, and with a bow, she hurried to her Palace to study them.

She didn’t know much about such plants since they weren’t exactly used in medicine, and yet, she had to study them, while hiding the bag with incriminatory objects very well.

It was a cold, yet beautiful snowy night, and Y/N felt so crushed by fear from the recent events, that without realising, stepped outside, her feet dragging her to Yin Zhen’s Palace, and she had no idea until his Eunuch spoke to her, welcoming her inside and scolding her for not wearing something warmer, before having the maids prepare tea and telling the Prince about her arrival.

Silence took over them as they played chess and drinking tea, yet her mind was somewhere else completely, making her lose for the first time...But he wasn’t surprised in the least.

“What did you find out?” he asked bluntly. “Do you hate me, Yin Zhen?” she asked, using one of her silver ring claws to stir the tea in her cup. “Why would you ask something like that...? Do you suspect me of framing you, or what?” he asked, shock obvious in his voice, until he realised the tears that were falling down her face. “Then...Why...? I...I thought you...Of all people...Wouldn’t...” Y/N was unable of cursive, coherent words as she raised her finger to eye level, showing that the silver claw became back. “I did NOT poison your tea! Shu Pei Gong, who prepared this tea? I want them brought here and held responsible right now!” the rage the Prince felt was immense, but he knew now to let feelings overtake his ration. “What did I do to deserve such hatred...? I’m not part of the harem, I never hurt anyone, I’ve always been respectful and helped everyone, I never wished for promotions, titles, ranks or favours...So why...Why...?! Why is this happening to me?!” she cried out, her heart suffering greatly, enough so that before he could say anything, she ran out again, taking a shortcut through the Plum garden, where she let herself fall to the ground, the freezing cold unbothering to her, as she felt as cold as ice from the constant heartache she suffered.

She hated the colour red, it was everywhere, yet people didn’t understand why she’d despise such a beautiful colour. It was the colour of her hair, the colour of Maple leaves, the colour of Plum blossoms, and of course, the colour of blood.

Blood, for that’s all she was seeing - Laying there, on the pure white snow, crystals falling from the sky, covering her in a soft blanket, the shade of her skin, contrasting her hair, her flowers and...The blood from her injury.

But as the dark abyss of death started taking over her senses, she saw two little jades that appeared and disappeared just like shy will’o’wisp spirit orbs.

What was in her head, running away like that, in the dead of such a freezing night, and why the Plum Garden that is like a crimson maze that could have served as her resting place.

Who would have known she would be so sensitive, Yin Zhen thought, and yet, he is her confidante, and she thought he poisoned her, which would be a shock for everyone, especially after everything going on in her life.

She looked so petite in his large bed, in his own pyjamas, as her own clothes were soaked from the snow and she’s already shivering, the last thing he’d want is for her to get deadly ill.

“Your Majesty, a blow to the back of her head with a blunt object cause her collapse and fainting, but the coldness worsened her health. She will need to rest and take medicine regularly. And...As much as possible, she must not stress, mentally, emotionally or physically.” the physician bowed to the Prince as he sat on the edge of the bed, gingerly brushing away the hair from her face. “Easier said than done when you’re dealing with such a stubborn hard-head...You may go now. I will look after her.” the Prince dismissed the physician who kowtow-ed and left the place that got quiet...So quiet...Save for her unconscious shivering. “What will I do with you, Y/N? How can I save you when you run away from me?” he muttered, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “You should have left me there.” a soft whisper was her, as the girl opened her glistering eyes. “Don’t speak such nonsense.” he scolded her, yet his eyes were gentle. “What is death if not a blessing in disguise? For unfortunate people like me, only followed by misfortune...What is there to live for? Instead of investigating her case, I should have let her punish me. It would have been less painful than my discovery.” her voice was devoid of any life, yet the tears that delicately made their ways down her cheeks were enough proof of sorrow and heart break. “What are you talking about, Y/N? What did you discover?” he asked, his attention not wavering from her. “Wu Zetian? Diaochan? Hua Mulan? Tan Yunxian? Yang Guifei? What the hell was in my head? The only thing I could share with them is a broken heart. Why did I even dare to think that I, as a woman, would have any chance to achieve happiness and freedom? I can’t even try to be Lin Siniang, for I have no martial arts, and I can’t go and die in battle for someone. I’m completely and utterly useless.” the girl sighed, turning her back to the Prince, letting her hair drape over her face to avoid being seen. “Y/N, I am your confidante, tell me what happened. When you feel like you can’t trust anyone, not even your family, or the world, I will be here to listen and be honest with you, no matter what. I promise.” he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, stroking her hair to calm her down, yet in only generated in her sobbing. “When I was struck and fell, I feigned being dead. I kept my eyes half-open, and I didn’t blink. I stopped breathing and looked up at the sky. And despite my blurring vision, I saw a pair of green orbs. And then, I heard a giggle, and a word. Just one word. You know what it was? They said - Finally - and then left. Do you understand what I mean, Yin Zhen?” she asked, letting go of him and looking him straight in the eyes. “You don’t mean...?” his eyes widened with surprise, not having expected something like that. “When I investigated the consort’s room, I found a cup that smelled of papaya and a mortar with cinnamon and pomegranate seeds. When she wasn’t looking, I stole them and went home to read more about these. My sisters visited me that night and we discussed about those items...And it was then that I found out that those plants cause natural, spontaneous abortions. They said they were worried about me...And then...They snitched on me to the consort. My maid warned me there were suspicious people lurking around so I secretly left my Palace and came to yours after taking the longest and darkest route. Somehow, they managed to make me paranoid enough by poisoning my tea in your own house...And I got scared and ran away. I was going to seek refuge at the Dowager, until the consort’s eunuch found me and yanked me over the head. That’s when I saw my sister’s eyes...The very same eyes that I hold...And most likely, they stole the items from my Palace and disposed of them...So what is there to live for, anyway?” she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, weeping silently. “You have me and I will help you out. I won’t let anyone punish you, I promise you that.” he cupped her face, making her look at him with her sad, doe-like eyes. “Even if I escape punishment, who can mend my shattered heart? My father never supported my passions, so I did everything in secret...And my own sisters plotted and went against me, for some reason that I’m completely unaware of, considering I always took care of them, sent them any riches I had and got them out of trouble...And there’s no way I will ever escape the hell from the harem wrath, even if I’m not part of it. I am lost with no place to call home and nobody to love me. I should just go end myself with some wine, out in the Plum Garden. It would be a very fitting end with no pain. Very beautiful...Maybe some music would have made it perfect - “ she kept talking in self-deprecation, not realising how it upset the man in front of her, until he stopped her by kissing her with enough fire to begin the melting process over the frozen pieces of her heart, “Stop speaking like that, you are upsetting me. How can I marry you and spend the rest of my life with you by my side, if you let the world get to you and kill you?” he was scolding her in a gentle manner, his hand on top of her head, putting his forehead to hers. “How can I not, when my own sisters, that I raised and took care of since mother died, plotted my death and were happy to see me fall? My own family, Yin Zhen! How can I bare with that?!” her voice was full of emotions of all kinds, desperate to have someone to cling on. “Those who wish ill on you are not your family, even though you are bound by blood. You have me, Y/N. I vow to you, I would never leave you alone. I will always be there for you, no matter what, and I will never let anyone hurt you again.” the man said, making the girl sigh and shake her head. “What are you trying to say, Yin Zhen? There’s only so long until you’ll become the Emperor. Even if you want to, you won’t have the time to even remember I exist. And you will be busy with all your concubines every night. Don’t vow what cannot happen, or you will anger the Gods. Be realistic. You know how I am. I refuse to bare children, I refuse to deal with the harem. I will get jealous, and in the end, you will end up hurting me more than my own family did.” she hung her head, wiping away the stray tears. “When I become Emperor, I will be able to do anything I want to. It’s true, I will need heirs, but that’s what the harem is about, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hold you in my arms every night. You will be Empress, and you will help me with matters of the Palace. If the Consort can deal with the harem now, she can do so when I reign as well. Not to mention, the current Empress favours you, she will be kind with you once she becomes Dowager.” he explained reassuringly, which made her look up at him slowly. “Do you vow you always love me the most and have me and only me as your priority? And you will listen to me when I talk. And we will still hang out at midnight in the Cherry Garden, we will still go swimming, or swinging in the Peach Garden, we will still play the Zither and Flute together and you will still compliment me over the littlest things, no matter what?” Y/N spoke a bit more harshly, to get her point across, which only made the man chuckle. “I vow that I will still be your Confidante, and you will be mine, and things between us won’t change even when I become Emperor. Who else could sew me such comfortable pyjamas and then wear them much better than I do?” he pinched her cheek before kissing her forehead tenderly. “That’s because I have style. Now...Tell me, what should I do?” and her reply came in the form of a scoff of amusement as the Prince pulled her to his chest, making her sit on his lap. “Sometimes I wish you were more ruthless, little fox. But it’s fine, I will be ruthless enough for the both of us. Just trust me, and tomorrow, we’ll go together and prove your innocence once and for all.” he declared in a voice fit for an Emperor, before putting one hand on the back of her neck, while the other was on her waist, and pulling her flush against his chest, he kissed her, gently at first, to make sure she wouldn’t shatter in front of him like a precious china doll, only to gradually become more and more passionate.

And once again, just like when they first met, they locked tender gazes and got lost in their own paradise - You are mine and you can only be mine - He’d think, just for a split second, as he continued kissing and touching her skin, softer than any cloud.

The next day marked the beginning of his vow, as she woke up with his arms draped around her small form and him stroking her hair gently, before they got dressed properly and went to her palace, the Blue Lotus, only to find her maid freaking out and checking her for any injuries.

When they explained to her what happened, Shi Lian grinned and ran to fetch a bag that she buried in a secret place under the snow, revealing the incriminatory objects that she risked so much for. The maid then pointed out that some eunuchs came over and tried to search the place, with the help of one of her sisters, only to find nothing and return fearfully to the noble consort, their mission failed.

Wait until they see she isn’t dead, really.

And so, Yin Zhen baited the sisters into going to the consort’s house, and told the Emperor to wait outside of the door and listen, only interfering if and when he sees fit.

“4th Prince, what ever could be the reason for summoning us like that?” the consort asked with a feign-innocent smirk o her face. “I believe it’s high time to finish investigating a crime, correct, consort? The mystery behind your miscarriage?” Yin Zhen’s eyes were sharp, yet victorious. “Ahh, yes, but wasn’t it confirmed to be that woman physician’s negligence?” she preferred to fake admiring her hand jewellery, instead of looking at the prince. “That is quite the narrative you painted, isn’t it? Painted with her blood, and the blood of my father’s offspring. Clearly, there is no shameful level of low-ness that you wouldn’t stoop to, just to gain my father’s attention and favour, isn’t it? Even going as far as to frame the only physician who would properly be able to heal you and the women of the Palace. She fought hard to convince my Imperial Father, the Emperor, to allow her to be a medicine practitioner, with you in her mind, not her own well-being. You must truly be cruel and desperate to want to get the Emperor’s favour that badly, again. You must know you’re getting old and ugly, and you won’t be my Father’s favourite anymore...And his favourites will be the newer concubines...Like Y/N’s sisters, who have unique, green eyes, unlike all the other women here.” the Prince hit the nail spot on, making the consort look at him with fear and indignation. “U-Uhm, Prince, I know you favoured Y/N Jiejie, but why are you dragging us into this?” Liyan asked cautiously. “Because the consort came to you with an alliance - If you get rid of Y/N, you won’t bully the sisters for being young and favoured. However, the sisters were jealous of Y/N of having favour from everyone without having to conform to the norms every woman has to, for she is not a concubine, therefore, she had nothing to fight for except your lives. To think that her own sisters that she took care of would plot her own demise without a single speck of regret. You caught her when she was most vulnerable, alone, in the Plum Garden, then had some eunuch strike her over the head with a wooden bat. Truly horrific to think family would behave like this.” the Prince played the detective part, explaining the story he heard from the girl herself. “What gives you the right to accuse us of such treacheries?! We would never hurt Jiejie!” Xiyan growled at the man, only for a surprise to happen, as the woman in cause entered the scene dramatically. “Wouldn’t you?” Y/N asked in a low voice, earning gasps of shock from the 3 other women. “J-Jiejie! You’re alright! You’re alive!” Xiyan’s lips quivered, as her eyes were darting between her sister and the consort. “Why wouldn’t I be alive, Xiyan Meimei? Was something supposed to happen that would guarantee my imminent death?” Y/N tilted her head slightly to the side, staring deep into her sister’s eyes, searching for the truth. “N-No, of course not! Why ever would you claim something so cruel?” Xiyan chuckled nervously, walking a few feet backwards. “All my life I thought myself the family disappointment since I never was the perfect woman that father wanted me to be, to bring honour to the family...But I know for sure that I never raised a liar or a traitor. You are a disappointment. To think you’d partner up with the consort to kill me, and then, when I talked to you about the evidence I found in her palace, you’d try to kill me and steal the objects. My maid is my family more than you ever were.” Y/N shook her head in disappointment, taking out the bag, which made the three women widen their eyes in horror, knowing very well what was going to happen. “Look at them, they are already pissing themselves with fear. They know what is in them.” Yin Zhen scoffed at them. “This is the consort’s cup, from which she drank Green Papaya juice...And this is a mortar in which cinnamon and pomegranate seeds were crushed into a powder. All of these are known to naturally induce abortions, so it’s no wonder she had a miscarriage when I gave her the medicine. You wanted the attention and to kill me, so what better way to do so than to frame me, punish me yourself, and have the Emperor hate me and potentially kill me? A Zhang of Redness, you said. How cruel of you, Consort.” Y/N taunted her once again, showing the evidence, putting them on the table. “You’re insane! This is a conspiracy! You have 4th Prince’s and you got him to conspire against me! You’re the worst!” the Consort shrieked at the girl, almost getting physically aggressive, until the Emperor himself stepped in the room. “That’s enough! How shameless can you be? I understand being jealous of the women of the harem, but of someone who is here only to save your lives? Impertinent!” the Emperor’s booming voice resounded throughout the room, drowning out the consort’s whinings for a little while. “Y/N, you have been the wronged one here, I will let their punishment be of your choosing, no matter how harsh. I will take my leave now, I cannot stand to look at these wretches anymore.” and so, he left the place, letting the consort grovel on the ground, helplessly, shrieking in the worst high-pitched voice. “All’s well when it ends well, I’d say.” Y/N muttered, looking at her two little sisters. “What do you two have to say in your defense?” “We are sorry, Y/N Jiejie, we were wrong! Please, forgive us!” the twins jumped on her, hugging her tightly, stunning the poor girl. “How cruel. You know she’s soft hearted so you try to play her again. You are shameless leeches.” Yin Zhen spoke out, seeing the conflict in his lover’s eyes...Only for her to gasp suddenly and widen her eyes in shock. “Finally...Huh? You’re truly the worst...Yin Zhen told me to be more ruthless...Perhaps I should begin now.” with a pained expression on her face, she pushed the sisters away from her, revealing the bleeding stab wound from her abdomen. “How many more times are you going to try to kill me? As many times needed until you finally succeed...But you think a tiny blade like this will do the trick? If poison, a bat to the head and the freezing cold didn’t kill me, this is nothing more than a mosquito’s bite for me.” Y/N looked at Liyan with disgust as she snatches away the dagger by the blade, throwing it away.  “Y/N...!” Yin Zhen looked in horror at the wound that kept bleeding and bleeding, staining the green material of her beautiful dress. “This all began when you wanted to punish me with A Zhang of Redness. My hair is red. The Plum blossoms are red. My spilled blood was red as well. Now, it’s your turn. All three of you, I punish you with a Zhang of Redness, and should you live, I will take away all your titles and riches. Hopefully, you will see what I felt when I realised that death would be a blessing, rather than living. Enjoy your lives as paralysed traitors, you three.” despite the single tear straying down her face, Y/N’s eyes were cold and merciless, at least just for then, as hearing her little sisters scream, sob and plea for her to have mercy on them and forgive them was something that unavoidably crushed her, but there was nothing she could do about it anymore. “Every day with you is like watching a dramatic tragedy at the opera.” the prince sighed, picking her up carefully and bringing her to his palace, so the physicians would tend to her wound. “Isn’t my life a tragedy enough as it is, without you having to remind me?” she scoffed, turning away from him. “It won’t be anymore, my dear. I promise you.” and with that, Yin Zhen embraced Y/N once again, taking away all her sorrows, at least for the night, and many more other nights.

~~~ I also have a Sad Ending, read at your own risk. If I were you, I wouldn’t read it, but we all know how some need angst to live ~~~

But years passed faster than the blink of an eye, and as the norm asked for, problems still surrounded everyone in the Palace, since it wouldn’t be the Imperial Court otherwise.

It was needless to say was still mourning not having her sisters around anymore, as one of them died, while the other remained paralysed in the Cold Palace, and as soon as her father came by to sell his Western products and found out the fate of his children, he blamed Y/N for being heartless and bringing dishonor to their family by being the complete opposite of what a woman should be.

And so...They weren’t so young anymore, but double the age from when they met, and Yin Zhen now became Emperor Yongzheng, and Y/N was his Empress, just as promised.

At first, he was loyal to his vow - No matter who he’d be forced to visit for the night, he’d still return to her and hold her in his arms until the light of morning creeped through the windows, waking them up, but time is a feeble enemy, and words are easily forgotten.

Daily, became Weekly, just like Weekly, became Monthly.

He would barely come by to visit, let alone spend the night with her, and meals together were as scarce as trustworthy people in the palace.

Every day, she was forced to wake up and get ready to welcome all the concubines who had to pay their respects to her, only to be mocked for not being the Emperor’s favourite anymore.

It wasn’t like she couldn’t complain too much to the Dowager, as she already tried to remind her Son multiple times not to forget and neglect his own Empress, his own wife and beloved for so many ages, and yet, it only worked for a little time, and so, realising how she was being problematic to everyone by complaining about her loneliness, only to get shut down and reminded that that is the fate of any woman...

A woman, more alone now than ever before.

She would often go out to the special places she shared with Yin Zhen, often lost in thought, as memories kept flooding her mind and damaging her heart, only to realise that no matter how much she’d try to keep herself busy, her mind would still fly over to him.

She would try to practice the flute and zither from dusk till dawn, and even to the latest hours in the night, only for him not to even remember she could play, and asking the younger, pretties concubines to play, at all banquets held.

She would practice all kinds of intricate dances, wearing the flowiest of dresses that looked like the river, only to hear that she should settle for clothing fit for her age, and see him dancing with other women in the light of the moon.

She would sew random brocades and threads in whatever piece of garment she could think of, only to then throw it in the fire in frustration, knowing he hasn’t worn anything she’s made for him lately.

She would practice calligraphy until the candles were almost burnt and her eyes were burning from the sleep depravation and straining, only to rip the books apart, noticing the tears, smudges and shakiness on the pages.

For a while, she refused to leave her palace completely, only to realise her thoughts were much darker when alone, so she would walk through the secluded gardens and weep on the now deserted swing from the Peach Garden.

No matter how much she tried, her poor maid, Shi Lian, could never make her happy again, for the only one who can mend a broken heart is the one who threw it to the ground in the first place, but he was too busy with others, and Shi Lian was so angry at the Emperor, pitying the poor woman, especially since she, herself, was married and with children.

But she was happy, and Y/N was at least happy for her good fortune. At least she, her only friend, deserves to be happy.

On one winter day, the Emperor held a banquet, declaring that a famous Zither player would entertain them, and as customs said, the Empress must, too, attend, but big was her shock when she recognised that beautiful and otherwise stoic man with silver hair, whose emotions coloured the worlds while playing the instrument, and she couldn’t help but cry when she heard ‘Autumn Moon over the Han Palace’ and ‘Plum-Blossoms in Three Movements’ , songs which reminded her of her younger self, and the time he started courting her, before she chose duty over happiness and entered the Palace.

What a foolish decision. Instead of living for herself, she always lived for others, which only caused her sorrow and misfortune. Maybe she deserves it, and this is her karma for being such an idiot.

After the banquet was ready, she went to talk to the musician alone, who clearly recognised her as soon as he first laid his eyes upon her still beautiful face.

“Not even time can destroy such beauty. My heart is happy seeing you again, Y/N. And I see you became the Empress.” JiKang spoke, his voice warmer now than with anyone else. “Time is cruel, for it destroys words and promises. I am an Empress over nothing but the ashes of my own heart and the disrespect I receive from everyone. You, however, seem to be thriving as usual. I can only guess how many places you’ve visited thus far, and how much you’ve learned over the years. I truly envy you.” she spoke with sorrow and helplessness. “Women are forced to choose duty over themselves. If you, however, wish to defy all laws, my offer still stands.” he spoke, taking her hands in his, rubbing them comfortingly. “If I could turn back time, I would give up everything, just to be with you. To be free. To have someone who wouldn’t lie to me for decades and then forget I exist. I only wished to learn, love, and be happy...But I suppose I was too greedy to even dare wish for good fortune on myself. Which is why, I cannot leave without first talking to the Emperor. If I leave without another word, he would hunt me down, and kill you, above all else, and that is not something that I would ever wish for. I will tell him to fake my death and get another Empress. If he accepts, I will come with you. If not...Then...” she trailed on, sighing, without having the strength to utter those dreaded words. “Then, I will return to you another time and play songs, to mend your heart.” the Zither player promised, only for a brief silence to take over, as her green eyes, once full of life, like the evergreen forest, were as dead as the ashes of a pine tree. “...There will be no next time.” her sentence was coded, but him, as an emotional person, was the one who understood her the best. “Then I shall create a score and play the ‘Requiem for God’s Caged Bird’ and ���The Lovely Fox Spirit and The Wavering Dragon’ in your honour, wherever I go.” was his last promise to her, as he watched her small form become no more in front of his very eyes.

And it was true, he never saw her, for the discussion between the Emperor and the Empress went as bad as it could get, even going as far as to strike her face, which reminded her of yet another promise that he broke. It should be all of them, by now, she thought, as she looked at him with an exhausted expression.

“You promised me so many things, and in the end, you broke all of them. Thank you, my darling Yin Zhen, for reminding me that I’ve been nothing more than your caged song bird that you forgot and threw in another room, in cold and darkness, to slowly starve and die in agony. The least you could have done was to fake my death and let me be happy, for the few years that I had left on this world. But, of course, nobody from your collection can escape, can they? Next time, I would suggest Zhen Huan, she is a lovely girl, and you love her the most, and in turn, she truly loves you. Just...Make sure not to treat her the same way you did with me...Goodbye, my beloved Yin Zhen. I truly loved you...And I still do.” she spoke...And then she left, not giving him the chance to say another word.

But that all happened during day light, as the next night, the true banquet would take place, to celebrate New Year’s Day, and JiKang would play once again.  And she wasn’t there, just as he’d expected. And he played more beautifully, more emotionally, than he ever did in his entire life, showing how much he cherished her, and how angry and frustrated he is with the Emperor took her away from him, mistreated her, constantly lying and breaking her heart.

“Shi Lian, my dear, why are you still here? You should be with your family, not with some old, pitiful woman like myself.” Y/N spoke from her writing table as she finished a note, putting her seal over it, and folding it so its contents won’t be seen. “Your Majesty, don’t be silly! I am your maid, I will always be here for you!” she chuckled brightly, which made the Empress give her a sad smile, her heart hurting as if impaled, once again. “Well...I won’t be going to the Banquet tonight, that much is clear. I can hear the beautiful music from over here. Here, take this. Give it to the Emperor’s Head eunuch as fast as possible, and tell him to give it to the Emperor when he wakes up in the morning, otherwise, nobody is allowed to read it, okay?” she said, wiping a few tears. “Yes, Your Majesty, I will hurry there right now!” the maid said, but before she left, the Empress rose to her feet, pulling her into an embrace. “Thank you, Shi Lian. You have been my only friend all this time. Thank you for everything. Now, please, after you’re done with this task, go stay with your family. I will have an early night...I am extremely tired.” she stroked her hair, almost in a motherly way, which confused the maid, but nonetheless, smiled at her master. “No, Master, thank you for being the amazing woman that you are. It’s an honour being by your side!” she bowed slightly, before rushing to the door. “Sweet dreams, Y/N Niangniang!” Shi Lian grinned cheerfully before taking off to the palace. “...I’m sure I will.” Y/N sighed, taking a bag and going to the Plum Garden, wearing nothing but her pyjamas.

She sat down on the soft grass, ignoring the cold that was paralysing her senses, and she took out the bottle of red wine, pouring herself a cup, before letting it spill on the ground. Then, she took a sachet, pouring its powdery contents into the bottle, and started rapidly gulping it down, letting the burning sensation in her throat be the only warm part in her body.  When the bottle was finally empty, she put it back in the bag, taking out a beautifully engraved vertical jade flute, that Yin Zhen gifted her after winning the competition where he played the zither, against the Princess of Western Liang, and so, she let all her emotions flow and be scattered all over China, through the wind, propelled by the sound of the instrument, all while the snowflakes were beautifully dancing around her, creating different accessories embellished with ice, that would set down on her, making her look like a Snow Empress.

If it weren’t for the tragic truth, she would look almost ethereal - With her white face, and white nightgown, the white decor, the green eyes and flute...The red hair, the red wine, the red plum blossoms...And the red blood.

She played and wept until she couldn’t feel her fingers anymore, not her frozen lips, as the flute fell from her hands and she let herself sit back on the bed of snow, looking up at the sky, just as she did, over 20 years ago.

Her death was tragically beautiful, just as she said back then.

“I should just go end myself with some wine, out in the Plum Garden. It would be a very fitting end with no pain. Very beautiful...Maybe some music would have made it perfect.” that’s what she said, long ago, and remembering her own words, she let darkness take over her, greeting it with a smile on her face - A smile, after decades of weeping.

A true smile.

The next morning, the Emperor woke up, with the beautiful Zhen Huan by his side, and his Head Eunuch waiting for him for any command. 

“Your Majesty, the Empress’ maid came by yesterday, saying that Her Majesty instructed her that you should be reading this now, in the morning, as you’ve waken up. She said she doesn’t know what it contains, as Her Majesty was secretive, but she said Her Majesty was behaving a bit...Odd.” the Eunuch explained the situation, as the Emperor, nodded with a grunt of approval, taking and unfolding the scroll that was neatly written in her beautiful calligraphy.

My Darling Yin Zhen,

To think that this is what time had in store for us...It’s almost pitiful to think that we would grow apart like this, considering how close we used to be at the beginning, when you were still a Prince, and we didn’t have any real worries on our shoulders.

Now, here we are, the same way we promised we would never become - Enstranged.

I missed you so much, every day and every night - I would always look at you, and see you, yet you never spared a glance my way anymore.

Saying that I used to be jealous is an understatement, I warned you of that before I even accepted to be with you, yet I never imagined that this would become beyond that, and that I would die of a broken heart, for my missing beloved.

Every day, I would count the promises and vows you made for me, and every day, I would cross them, one by one, and crush a flower in my hands, for every broken one, until there was nothing left.

You promised you would love me, and only me, but as soon as the Palace became flooded with gorgeous concubines, all yours to take, your heart forgot me, and it split all its love to all the women that you shared your bed with, and so, I crushed a Lotus flower.

Your promised you would always hold me in your arms at night, no matter of the woman you’d have to do your Imperial Duty with, and yet, it didn’t take long for you to remember that my bed was made for the both of us, and so, I crushed a Cherry blossom.

You promised you will always tease me, flick my forehead and pinch my cheeks, then kiss them, only for you to cast cold eyes at me whenever I spoke or did something silly, letting the Consort or Dowager deal with me, while you would play and to the same things you used to do with me, with other women, and so, I crushed a Plum blossom.

You used to compliment me on all my small achievements, no matter how silly or insignificant they were, but now, you gave away all the clothes I sew you, all the snacks, cakes and tea I would make you, and all the accessories I would spend days and night to make, and so, I crushed a Begonia flower.

You used to point out how my eyes were sparkling with life and joy whenever I was around you, and how all colours looked amazing on me, you said I was the Empress of Flowers, and yet, ever since you became Emperor, only dark eyes sparkle with happiness around you, and you said I should wear clothes for my age and stop fooling around, and so, I crushed a Peony.

You used to always accompany me whenever I played music, we even beat the Princess of Western Liang together, I with the flute, that you later gifted me, and you with the zither, and after that, you even gifted me that amazing Liang hair ornament...Only for you to forget that I can play musical instruments too, and only let the younger girls perform for you, and so, I crushed a Chrysanthemum.

You used to kiss me with so much love and passion, warming up and mending by broken, frozen heart, as you promised nothing in this life would ever hurt me again, and I would never be alone, and yet, you are the one who completely crushed me, forgetting about me, as if I was some ugly, ragged old doll, thrown away and forgotten by time and life, and so, I crushed a Camellia.

You used to be my confidante, my best and only friend, we trusted each other with all our secrets and gossips, and only each other, and yet, you completely stopped talking to me, making other confidantes now, and here I am, having no one but my maid to talk with, as my last living sister hates me eternally, and rightfully so, and so, I crushed a Narcissus.

You used to take me out at midnight and dance under the veil of stars, under the healing, guarding, loving light of Mother Moon, and we would confess our undying love for each other, and yet, nothing is eternal, and your love for me extinguished like the fire from a candle, and reignited on many other candles, and so, I crushed an Azalea.

But most importantly...

You promised that, no matter what, our hearts will always belong to each other, and nobody else - I kept my end of the promise, but you broke it as soon as you took the throne, and I watched you run further and further away from me, while I was wilting away, exhausted, starving, alone...And so...I crushed a thorny Rose...And let the blood spill on the pure snow...The same pure snow that was my life and innocence which you tainted with your negligence and lies.

The least you could have done was to let me live, at least for now, but it is as you once said - ‘Don’t look at other men, don’t leave me. You are mine, and you can only be mine’ - such an innocent phrase, that only applied to you, not to me, as I had to share you with countless women, yet you didn’t even let me tug on the last string of hope that coincidentally found itself in front of me. 

It was a mirage, just like the happiness you promised me, and no matter how much I tried to run, the image became further and further distant, until my legs gave up, and I began crawling...And crawling...Until it disappeared completely, and I lay grieving on the deserted snow, warmer than your own ice-cold heart.

I should have chosen happiness over duty - I should have eloped with JiKang back then, before I chose to honour everyone and come into the Palace, but that was my biggest mistake, and my greatest downfall - I met you, and as soon as I looked into your eyes, I was trapped.

I was truly nothing more than your caged songbird, and once you got tired of my song, you threw away the key, and my cage in some forgotten chamber, scary, away from any form of life, darker and colder than anything, even Hell.

But it’s fine.

In the end, if it wasn’t true for you, it was true for me, and on my last seconds alive, as I lay on the blanket of snow, just as I told you back then, listening to my own Requiem being played at the Banquet, I count the falling snowflakes, and with each of them, I would think of a beautiful moment that we shared together, and my heart, despite being shattered, smiled, after ages of forgetting how to.

I am happy, at least now, as I lay dying, knowing that I will finally see my beloved Yin Zhen again, as you took him away from me - You, Emperor Yongzheng, destroyed the love between me, Y/N, a simple physician, and Yin Zhen, the 4th Prince, who truly loved me with all of his heart, and I, in turn, loved him with every fiber of my very being.

I blame you, Emperor Yongzheng, for taking my beloved away from me, and taking my youth and heart and locking them in a cell, but at least now, I know that I can be happy, with him, my beautiful, sweet, lovely Yin Zhen, my husband, best friend and confidante.

The only person who was ever by my side all this time has been my maid, Shi Lian - And as a thank you, I want to promote her to Lady Yongqing, and all my riches go to her - I wish you only the best, and I hope, my dear Shi Lian, that you will be happy for me as well.

In the end, I was never Wu Zetian, or Hua Mulan, nor Diaochan or Yang Gufei - I was just Y/N, a pitiful Physician, a pitiful Empress, and, above all, a sad woman, trapped in a hopeless world of sorrow.

Goodbye.

Y/N, the Female Imperial Physician.

Reading that, the Emperor didn’t realise that tears were escaping from his eyes, as he rushed out of the room, making his way to the Plum Garden, only to find the woman he loved with all his being dead, covered by snow, her skin paler than ice itself, and a red stain where her head was - Wine, replicating the incident many years ago.  Next to her, lay the flute he gifted her long ago, and he realised that she was playing her sorrows until the very end. He discovered the wine bottle and poison sachet in the bag, the very bag that she used to steal the incriminatory objects from the consort long ago, and on the snow, he saw a phrase written, one so ironic, yet painful beyond belief.

“A Zhang of Redness”

In the end, she was right - It all began and ended with A Zhang of Redness.

He was, once again, Yin Zhen, the man hopelessly in love, and hopelessly crushed, as he held her in his arms and wept, the salty droplets of water falling down her face in rivers, and in that moment, he couldn’t help but have flashbacks from his youth, all of them, with her by his side.

He truly was the worst, being capable of neglecting the one person he held in higher esteem than Buddha himself, and yet, he let this happen.

How could he let this happen? Why did he do something like this? Did the title of Emperor really get to his head like that? Did he truly forget who he was all this time? Was he, maybe, the one trapped in a false world, away from any exits or escapes?

He didn’t know, and yet, one thing was sure - Y/N was dead, and there was no bringing her back.

At her funeral, he invited JiKang to play, and the Emperor could feel the musician’s own heart throbbing in sorrow, as he looked at her with empty eyes, and yet, the pity and anger he felt was obvious from the way he played.

As night came, and they all lit lanterns to float into the skies, and put candles on lotus flowers, to light up her way to a better, more beautiful world, the two men remained alone, only sadness linking them.

“What were the songs that you played?” the Emperor asked in a low voice. “Songs that I promised I would play in her honour, the last time we talked. I knew what she was going to do, and yet, knowing that she killed herself when I played for her - And more - that she, herself, played, makes my heart ache even more.  ‘Requiem for God’s Caged Bird’ and ‘The Lovely Fox Spirit and The Wavering Dragon’  were the name of the songs.” the musician replied with a certain harsh coldness that resembled a blizzard. “I see...Very fitting indeed.” he grunted in approval hearing his statement. “You are the cruelest man alive. Instead of taking care of her, you let her die. You didn’t even give her a second chance of living. You were desperate to possess everything and everyone. To have everything under your control. So much that you don’t even notice, nor care, that the most beautiful flower wilted in your very own hands. You should be ashamed of yourself, to even call yourself an Emperor. You never deserved her, that much, is clear to me.” JiKang glared at the Emperor, not caring for any kind of repercussion. “You are correct. I never deserved her. I loved her more than anything in this world, and yet, I destroyed everything for her, and now, she is no more. She shares the same fate as all the Four Beauties of China - A most tragic end, for all of them. And the worst is that she needed to die in order for me to wake up, and now, I can’t even make it up to her. Honouring her after death means nothing, if I didn’t while she was alive. It changes nothing.” the Emperor sighed deeply, looking at the stars, the ones she loved so much, and would count together from the top of the flowery hill. “That star right there - It used to be our star. Whenever we’d go to the hill together, we’d search for it. It was our guardian star. It was the brightest, and most beautiful. And now, it seems to be be even brighter...Just like that tale of the Rabbit Moon Goddess.” “...At least bother remembering her after death, if you couldn’t do it while she was alive.” the musician left the Emperor to his own thoughts. “I am sorry, my darling Y/N. I love you. Forever. Endlessly. Only you.” the Emperor muttered, staring at the star, allowing himself to mourn properly now, away from anyone’s eyes.

The Palace of Blue Lotus became her shrine, filled with flowers and beautifully written poems, and guarding it, a statue of her, and a statue of a nine tailed fox, a Huli jing, were standing there, letting offerings of flower crowns, jewelleries, jades and trinkets be placed around and all over them, to honour her kind, beautiful heart, as it should have happened while she was alive.

As promised, the Emperor promoted Shi Lian, but to the title of Lady Shuyu, just like Y/N once was, and offered her a huge allowance, almost the size of an Empress, hoping that it would make Y/N happy beyond life...Yet seeing the maid grieving, her face pink and puffy, no longer cheerful, hurt him beyond belief, as he was reminded of the sins he committed.

And so, once again, he had to pink new concubines for his unfortunate Harem, along with his new Empress, Zhen Huan, just as Y/N said...And there she was, a beautiful young woman, full of life and hope, obviously not wanting to become a slave to him, so he interrogated him, just as he did with Y/N, long ago. This time, his brother, Duke Guo, a free soul seeking his soulmate, was by his side.

The Emperor ordered for a zither to be brought forth for the woman to play, and as soon as she did, his brother joined in, accompanying her in perfect sync, and just as it happened to him long ago, their eyes were trapping each other in a beautiful enchantment of love and bashfulness.

Please, Gods, let them be what I and Y/N couldn’t be, Yin Zhen begged in his heart, watching those two shyly exchanging looks.

“I know you never wanted to serve me as a concubine. You very much resemble my wife, the late Empress Y/N. If you were to join the harem, your heart will be destroyed. That is why...If you would want to, I will allow you to marry any man you fall in love with, even if it is my own brother, Duke Guo. He always preached about wanting to find the his soulmate, and you two look at each other the same way I and Y/N would, long ago. Don’t waste this love on stupid things, like I did. Cherish it, and keep your promises to each other. You never know when life snatches away your happiness, leaving only emptiness and sorrow behind.” Yin Zhen looked at them, his heart conflicted, feeling both happiness and sadness, as the man and woman in front of him appeared to be just another version of himself and Y/N.

He couldn’t see the girl, nor his brother.

He could only see a beautiful red haired woman with green eyes, flowers in her long, cascading hair, and her gorgeous green gown, looking like a Fox Spirit, or a Lotus...And a man, gazing at her lovingly, wearing vibrant gold, his expression soft, despite the deep, dark eyes, that now held love, warmth and tenderness in them.

It wasn’t some random girl and some random boy.

It was Y/N and Yin Zhen.

And then he wept once again for their lost love.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, browney3dgirl6!

For @browney3dgirl6. I hope you enjoy this gift as much as I did writing it. Have a wonderful holiday with some sterek pining angst with a happy ending! 

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 6000

Tags: Pining, Miscommunication, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - College/University, Roommates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, Oblivious Derek Hale, Idiots in Love

Read On AO3

*****

Call Him More

There was a lot that Stiles could be grateful for in his relatively boring life. Even though he lost his mother at a too young age, he and his father had never been closer. He had gone to high school with a close-knit group of friends that always had each other’s backs through the ups and the downs of adolescent drama. When he graduated, he got into a college not too far from home that offered his dream major of graphic design.

Unlike most of his friends, he took a year off to work and save up some money so he didn’t have to deal with the college roommate situation after the required first year.  When he was assigned his room, however, he thought he might pretend he didn’t have enough money for an apartment. If it meant rooming with tall, dark, and handsome, Stiles figured it wouldn’t be all that bad.

He had known he was not totally straight since his freshman year of high school. Openly gay, Danny, had brought the group to a gay bar that wasn’t exactly thorough with their license checks and Stiles had slowly realized that he didn’t feel as out of place as his friends did. Scott was vaguely uncomfortable but very kind about it because that was just who Scott was, and Stiles thought that maybe the reason he wasn’t as uneasy was that he belonged there.

Forming an identity was the hardest part of growing up for Stiles, but he had done it just as quickly as the rest of his friends. He was open about his attraction to, well, everyone, but never let that dictate any part of his life besides who he decided to date.

That was until he met Derek Hale.

Stiles had seen a lot of hot people in his life - his friends had been considered the prettiest people in Beacon Hills High School and he wasn’t sure how he had stayed a part of the group - but nothing came even remotely close to the perfect pouted smolder, thick arched eyebrows, and kaleidoscope eyes that Stiles thought even the straightest of men would get lost in. Derek Hale was the most gorgeous person Stiles had ever seen in his life and because Stiles had almost no filter from his brain to his mouth, he said as much when they first met.

“I think I’m in the wrong room,” Stiles said as he gaped at the stunning man in front of him. The man raised his impressive eyebrows and sat down on the edge of his bed before gesturing to the twin mattress on the other side of the room.

“Are you in 110?” The man asked and Stiles thought a voice had never sounded so seductive before that moment. The man was a god and Stiles was truly unworthy.

“Can you pinch me, because you’re so fine I must be dreaming.” Stiles regretted the words almost immediately. Scott had told him to lay off the cheesy pick-up lines and that there was a time and place for them and sometimes that was never and nowhere.

The man furrowed his eyebrows before asking, “Do you have a name?” Before Stiles could answer, the man smirked almost shyly and said, “Or can I call you mine?” Stiles couldn’t help the burst of laughter that left his lips. He placed the box in his arms on the bare mattress across from the man before offering a hand.

“Stiles,” he said. The man took his hand firmly and his smile seemed to light up the entire room.

“Derek,” his roommate said and Stiles hadn’t realized how much one name could change his life.

~~~o~~~

“She’s gonna be here in like 15 minutes, Stiles, can you please just clean up the excessive amount of chip bags on the floor?” Derek yelled from where he was making his bed. Stiles rolled his eyes but noticed the stark contrast between their sides of the room. Derek made a point to fix his sheets and fluff his pillows every morning while Stiles was lucky if he washed his on a weekly basis. Derek’s belongings were meticulously stacked on their rightful shelves and his desk looked as though a scholar had been creating their next published work on the smooth top.

“Why do you even care what my side of the room looks like?” Stiles asked through a mouthful of Cheetos. Derek stared at him with the judgmental gaze Stiles had grown to know and love before wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Stiles rolled his eyes but wiped his flannel sleeve across his lips just to appease Derek who smiled sarcastically back at him.

“I actually like to impress the people I want to date, unlike someone,” Derek said pointedly as he stood in front of the mirror and ran a hand through his gelled hair. Stiles ignored how absolutely perfect he looked in favor of standing and brushing off the crumbs that had fallen over him.

“Awe, you want me to impress the people you date, too?” Stiles cooed as he made his fingers into little guns and pointed at Derek with a wink. Stiles saw the dejected sigh in the way Derek’s shoulders rose and fell as he fixed the collar of his shirt.

“You’re my best friend and roommate, Stiles. Anyone I date is bound to spend a lot of time with you. Would it kill you to put a little effort in? For me?” Derek asked as he turned, his eyes pleading in a way Stiles thought no one could ever say no to. He ignored the pang in his heart from the subtle insult and kept his usual sideways smile on his face.

“I’ll put in as much effort as you put into keeping that tie crooked,” Stiles said with a raise of his eyebrows. Derek looked down, tilting his chin as best he could to catch a glimpse at his handiwork. Stiles wiped his cheesy hands on his jeans before stepping up to his best friend and gripping onto the imperfect knot.

“Why don’t you see if Danny is free to go out tonight? I’m worried you’re spending too much time alone,” Derek said softly. Stiles adjusted the tie around Derek’s neck and tried to ignore the ghost of a breath across his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why he kept putting himself in that position; so close to Derek before he left to woo another woman. When he looked up at Derek as he looped the smaller end of the tie into place, though, he remembered that it was worth it to see the bright smile on Derek’s lips.

“I’ll dial up Scott and see if he can tear himself away from Allison for the night, okay?” Stiles never intended to do that, but Derek seemed relieved at the thought so he counted it as a win. Stiles realized that there wasn’t an excuse to help Derek anymore as the tie was sorted, so he patted Derek’s chest with awkward palms and stepped away slowly. “You look great. You taking her to Nonna’s?” Stiles hated that he knew his friend took his first dates to the fancy Italian place across town as Derek nodded in response.

“She said she wasn’t ‘sure’ about Italian food, but…” Stiles gaped at the preposterous notion that anyone could dislike Nonna’s and shook his head as he settled back into his bed. He opened his laptop to try and ignore the slow way Derek coated his lips in chapstick as if preparing for a date ending kiss and fired up an episode of his favorite comfort TV show.

“If she’s a dud, bring me back some fettuccine, yeah?” Stiles asked as Derek opened the door. Derek turned back to him with a small smile on his face that almost looked sad and Stiles wasn’t really sure why. He was the one going out on a Saturday night while Stiles ate junk food and watched the same show he had already seen at least six times through all alone.

“You got it,” Derek agreed.

The door slammed shut behind him and Stiles flinched at the sound. It was one he was all too familiar with. It was the sound of him losing Derek to another person that wasn’t him.

It had only taken Stiles about six months to realize that what he felt for Derek was entirely more than platonic. Derek was the hardest person to figure out but the challenge was one that Stiles couldn’t ignore. He was practically obsessed with trying to get Derek to crack another rare joke or respond with a laugh instead of an eye roll or a scrunch of confusion prominent on his eyebrows. He had put every ounce of his energy during his freshman year of college into figuring out how to get closer to Derek and it took Danny calling him out in front of everyone for him to truly realize that wasn’t quite platonic.

“Is Derek coming out with us tonight, too?” Danny asked as they pushed open the doors to the club they had frequented even before some of the group had turned eighteen. Stiles shook his head and stared at Danny, unsure why he would even ask.

“Derek’s never been out with us unless it involves food,” Stiles reminded him as they caught sight of Scott, Allison, and Lydia waving frantically from the table they had somehow procured in the busy venue.

“Yeah, but I figured things were different now…”

“Guys! You finally made it!” Scott pulled Stiles into a tight hug, but Stiles was too focused on Danny’s words to appreciate the comforting gesture from his best friend. He pushed Scott away a bit quicker than he usually would have and turned back toward Danny who had Lydia in a side squeeze.

“What do you mean ‘different’? Nothing’s different with Derek and me,” Stiles corrected as if the thought offended him. It hadn’t, but he wasn’t about to let his closest friends in on how ridiculously head over heels he was for his straight roommate. Not when they would only try to convince him to stop as if it was possible, as if Stiles hadn’t already tried.

“Yeah, I mean now that you guys are, you know, dating? Hooking up? Whatever you’ve decided to label it,” Danny said with a shrug. A shrug. As if the entire prospect was obvious to everyone. Stiles was torn between disbelief and sheer frustration as Lydia chimed in.

“We figured it would take a little longer, but we’re glad that you’ve figured,” Lydia gestured vaguely at the length of Stiles, “all that out.”

Allison piped up, “Yeah! When Scott told us, we were all ecstatic.” Stiles turned to his best friend in shock, his mouth hanging open so comically wide it was a miracle there were no flies making a home in the cavern.

“When Scott told you?! What exactly did Scott tell you?” Stiles asked but it was clear the question was directed at his best friend. Scott just shrugged - Stiles was really sick of his friends shrugging off his complete panic - before taking a slow, bashful sip of his drink.

“I thought after last weekend you guys had finally decided to, I don’t know, pull your heads out of your asses?” Scott said consideringly and Stiles just stared at him. Nothing had changed last weekend from what Stiles could remember and he was more confused by Scott’s mention of it than ever.

“What the hell are you talking about, Scotty?” Stiles asked as he plopped down into a chair and downed half the drink Lydia had carefully handed him.

“C’mon, Stiles, don’t make me say it!” Stiles thought his jaw somehow dropped even further as he gestured wildly at Scott before running both of his hands through his hair. He leveled Scott with a glare that clearly told him to start talking and, thankfully, he did. “When I came in on Sunday morning to see if you guys wanted to go to breakfast with us and you were… indisposed,” Scott said slowly.

Stiles barely remembered it, and then the entire morning flashed across his mind. Derek had been up late the night before and had come home groggy and exhausted from a night of studying. When he entered their shared room, Stiles was still up playing one of his online games but immediately closed his laptop at how dejected Derek looked. It took everything in him not to launch himself into Derek’s arms and hug him, so instead, he patted the empty side of his bed and just smiled up at Derek in invitation. There were no words exchanged, but both of them apparently needed comfort no one else was around to give them.

Derek must have fallen asleep because before Stiles could react, their front door was opening and Scott’s vibrant voice was echoing through the room. Stiles shushed him as best he could by flinging a pillow in his direction and slid his arm out from underneath Derek’s hard body before meeting Scott out in the hallway. Scott hadn’t even asked what the two were doing and Stiles realized he should have explained something more than ‘yeah, sometimes we share a bed to watch movies and play games but it’s totally platonic’.

“You were spooning, Stiles. I don’t know about you, but the only person I’ve ever spooned in my life is my girlfriend,” Scott said with a gross smile in Allison’s direction. The group collectively groaned but Stiles couldn’t join in because he was too focused on what that weekend might have meant to Derek.

“We’re just roommates, guys. Friends, even. But that’s it,” Stiles said and that was that.

He held onto the hope that maybe Derek had felt the same until the following morning when Derek came back to their room with a hickey on his chest that had a pang surging through Stiles’ heart like a lightning strike. He let go of his hope that they would ever be more than platonic and focused on what he could be to Derek; his roommate, his study partner, the person he begrudgingly spent a majority of his time with, and his friend.

Stiles lost himself in a TV show he wasn’t even sure he wanted to watch and tried to stop imagining Derek being the perfect gentleman he probably was on the date Stiles would never be the one to go on.

~~~o~~~

Stiles woke up a few weeks later with one of the worst hangovers he had ever been subject to in his life. He always remembered to stay hydrated, always had glasses of water shoved in his direction by his friends when it was his turn to let loose, but there was some reason he hadn’t the night prior. He wracked his brain but all that he could remember was in flashes of bright lights, thumping music, and Derek.

Derek.

He vaguely remembered Derek showing up at the bar, but definitely recalled his drunken excitement upon noticing his presence. He was pretty sure Danny had to hold him back from launching himself embarrassingly into Derek’s strong arms. He really should grab a coffee with Danny soon as he always seemed to have Stiles’ back when he became unhinged.

One memory surged through the forefront of his mind and his skin heated up as he thought back on what had happened a few hours into the night.

“Der!” Stiles yelled as he reached the table his friends had gotten for the night. Derek was alone and it was ridiculous that he was alone. How was no one in this club hitting on him? There were literally so many eligible– Oh, yeah. Eligible men at the gay bar that probably weren’t Derek’s type. Stiles pouted at his own internal monologue and when Derek noticed, he raised an eyebrow at him. “Finish your drink and let’s go dance!”

When Stiles grabbed for his hand, Derek pulled him down into the booth beside him and said, “Why don’t you take a break, buddy. You should have some water before you get too messy.” Stiles’ alcohol hazed brain was torn between focusing on the backhanded insult and the fact that Derek was trying to take care of him. He decided to focus on the positive because it was his night to be happy.

“I’ll drink the water if you tell me why you decided to hang out with us lowly peasants tonight in favor of sleeping with your girlfriend,” Stiles slurred. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted the question to come out but he figured it was pretty straightforward. Derek laughed, too, so he thought he had won something out of it.

“She had to study with some friends tonight and Scott called me to take you home when you were done so he could leave early with Allison,” Derek said. Stiles glanced around the club and realized that his best friend was nowhere in sight. Stiles was abandoned with only Derek and–

“Danny! Danny, you’ve met Derek. Isn’t he pretty?” Stiles said with wide eyes as he took in what Derek was wearing. If Stiles hadn’t known any better, he would think Derek was there to impress someone. He had the jeans he usually only pulled out for first dates, a dark button-down shirt, and a polka-dotted tie that Stiles had initially bought him as a joke until he put it on and looked amazing. Derek looked amazing in everything.

“Yeah, Stiles, Derek is very pretty,” Danny agreed with a teasing smirk on his lips. Stiles draped an arm over Derek’s shoulder and used the other to straighten his tie. He realized that he was practically in Derek’s lap but he didn’t mind and unless Derek told him to move, he was comfortable right where he was. “You guys gonna join us on the dance floor?” Danny asked as he gestured over his shoulder to where a group of men exactly Danny’s type were waiting for him.

Stiles nodded eagerly as Derek shook his head and said, “I think we’re gonna hang out here until Stiles drinks some water.” Stiles glared at him but Danny left before he could chase after him and enjoy the music.

“Okay, dad. If I drink that water, then will you dance with me?” Stiles begged, pouting his lip for effect. Derek’s eyes searched his face before landing on his mouth and for a moment, Stiles thought he was leaning closer. He closed his eyes to prepare himself for the life changing moment when all of a sudden Derek was a few feet away at the edge of the booth.

“You’re drunk, Stiles,” Derek said and Stiles raised his eyebrows at him because it was very obvious how much alcohol Stiles had consumed and what did that have to do with anything?

“You’re here,” Stiles responded and it made sense in his head. He was there instead of out with his girlfriend on a Saturday night. He was there instead of studying as he usually did with his nights off. He was there - with Stiles - when he could have been almost anywhere else.

“I came because Scott asked me to,” Derek said sternly. He pushed the half-full glass of water in Stiles’ direction and gestured for him to drink it but Stiles wasn’t feeling too thirsty. He shifted closer to Derek, who in turn stood up as if he was about to be burned by lava, and Stiles pushed past him with barely a wave.

“Tell Scott I don’t need his help and I don’t need yours either. I can find my own way home after I’ve finished having fun,” Stiles shouted as he threw himself into the crowd of people.

He would have liked to say that he didn’t watch Derek leave, but he did. He watched as Derek paid for the drinks left on the table and took out his phone before smiling down at it. He watched as Derek took one last glance in his direction and then walked through the doors.

He doesn’t remember much after that.

The slamming door broke him out of his thoughts and he ran a hand through his hair as if it would appease the throbbing in his skull.

“Loud noises are not my friend right now, can you just–” When he opened his eyes to yell at whoever had entered the room, he saw Derek drop a bottle of water onto his bed followed by a container of pain reliever. Stiles bit down on his bottom lip and nodded his head slowly as he glanced up at Derek. “Thanks,” he said lamely.

Derek nodded back and said softly, “I’m heading out, but I figured you’d need this more than I would today.” Stiles smiled at him but he was sure it didn’t reach his eyes. Between the pain and the shame of the night before, he was sure Derek was never going to talk to him again let alone take care of him.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Stiles blurted out before he could stop himself. Derek raised an eyebrow at him as if asking for him to expand on his apology and Stiles figured he owed him that much. “I was pretty wasted and very unreasonable and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” Stiles said as he fiddled with the cap of his water bottle. Derek nodded and as he realized Stiles’ struggle to open the bottle, grabbed it from him to uncap the plastic.

“I know, Stiles,” Derek responded. “I was just trying to be a friend because Scott wasn’t there, but I’m not Scott and we’ve got our own kind of friendship, right?” Stiles wished Derek hadn’t used the word friend so much, but it reminded him that was exactly what they were. Stiles was drunk the night before and whatever he thought he saw in Derek’s gaze was wishful thinking. He took a few sips of water before swallowing the pain relievers and falling back into bed.

“You mean the sorta friendship where I embarrass myself and you act like my father?” Stiles joked and then winced at the insinuation of his words. Derek laughed anyway and ran a hand through his hair. It was something he had never seen Derek do before he had started spending more time with Stiles. It made his heart leap to see it.

“The sorta friendship that we have to try our hardest to keep,” Derek said seriously and how was Stiles supposed to respond to that? Derek was more important to him than he realized and Stiles had tried harder every day to ignore his feelings in order to make sure their friendship stayed intact. Stiles briefly wondered why Derek had to try but decided to change the subject in case it started a conversation his hungover brain was not awake enough to have.

“Where are you headed?” Stiles asked and then instantly regretted the question because he knew he wouldn’t like the answer. Derek smiled softly down at his phone as he had the night prior - Stiles hated his mind for recalling that so clearly - and held it up bashfully when it rang.

“We’re headed to the diner a few blocks away. Want me to bring you back some greasy food?” Stiles’ mouth watered both from the idea of greasy hangover food and the fact that ‘we’ meant Derek and the girl that made him smile in the way Stiles had been aiming for for months.  

Stiles shook his head and closed his eyes as he said, “Nah, I’ll see if Danny is up for some post-alcohol coma food. Have fun!” Stiles hadn’t meant it, but he put his best sloppy smile on his face and waved at Derek as he left.

When the door slammed shut again, Stiles felt his heart dive into his stomach and wondered if before noon was too early for another round of mind-numbing drinks.

~~~o~~~

A few weeks passed and Stiles wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle sharing a room with the person he tried so hard not to be in love with. He had thought if he threw all of himself into his friendship with Derek, he could somehow make their relationship just like his and Scott’s. He found out he was sorely mistaken because anytime Derek so much as glanced at him, let alone hugged him or patted his shoulder as friends do, Stiles would melt inside.

He hated that he reacted like that. He had thought he’d gotten over the ridiculous pining aspect of his feelings when he spent ten years obsessing over Lydia, who was never going to be the love of his life. Everyone reminded him of that when they got the chance and Stiles thought maybe that was the problem. Even a year after he had realized his feelings for Derek, his friends were still convinced the two were in some secret relationship that Stiles didn’t want them to know about. If he could get one of them to remind Stiles that Derek was a month into a relationship with someone else - a woman, which Stiles reminded himself of often - maybe he would finally stop feeling like he was the lead in a dumb romantic comedy every time Derek walked into the room.

But lately, Derek seemed annoyed with even a glimpse of Stiles. He would come back to their shared room after a date with the girl Stiles still hadn’t bothered to learn the name of and nitpick everything he could see. He didn’t seem to like the way Stiles tucked in his sheets or the way he organized his side table. He even went as far as complaining about the new detergent Stiles had bought to wash his clothes. Stiles felt like he was walking on eggshells and still, his heart skipped when Derek glanced his way.

Like clockwork, Stiles heard a key in the door and his eyes widened in panic. He was in the same clothes he had been the night prior, his bed unmade and probably covered in cheesy crumbs from another bag of Cheetos, and he was sure the air was stale as he hadn’t been able to get out of bed in the morning to take a shower. He jumped off of his bed and quickly tore off his shirt and pajama pants, throwing on a relatively clean pair as he stripped his sheets and threw them into the overflowing laundry basket. He grabbed the card from the dresser just as Derek opened the door and smiled brightly as he tried to contain how out of breath he was.

“Hey Derek, I’m about to–”

“I’m moving out.”

Stiles was sure he felt his heart shatter.

“Derek, what are you–” Before he could even finish his sentence, Derek was tossing his neatly folded clothes haphazardly onto the bed as if he had no cares in the world. The sheer surprise that flooded through Stiles was just as much about Derek’s words as it was his actions. Tidy, organized Derek had half of his room on his bed before Stiles could even blink.

He launched himself out of his bed just as Derek said, “We can’t keep doing this.” If Stiles had been confused before, he was even more so by the phrase.

“This? What? Derek, what are you talking about?” When Derek said nothing, Stiles continued frantically. “I was just about to go do laundry. I can clean my half of the room in a few hours and we can talk about this,” Stiles pleaded. Derek seemed to grumble to himself as he pulled out flattened boxes from beneath his bed but froze when Stiles rested gentle fingertips against his wrist.

“Don’t pretend you don’t see it, Stiles,” Derek said with humor in his voice that had chills racing down Stiles’ spine. He looked quizzically at Derek who shook his head in response. “We’re at each other’s throats more often than not and I’m not willing to risk our– our friendship because we spend too much time together,” Derek spat the words as if they were dirt on his tongue and Stiles had to stop himself from flinching.

Stiles had no idea where it had come from. He had noticed the tension between them, it was almost impossible to miss when you lived with someone, but he had thought it was completely one-sided. Stiles had started to back off after he had realized things with Derek and his girlfriend had started getting more serious, but he didn’t think Derek had minded.

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about and will you stop?!” Stiles shouted as he let his fingers wrap around Derek’s wrist. Derek turned to him quickly, their chests pressed together so that Stiles could feel Derek’s puffing in and out with his panting breath.

“I can’t just stop because I don’t have a distraction anymore!” Derek yelled causing Stiles to take a tentative step back. He kept his fingers around Derek’s wrist, the steady pulse almost calming to him, reminding him that Derek was still there and hadn’t left yet. Stiles could fix whatever was happening and everything would be okay.

“A distraction? Derek, what are you–”

“I picked classes this term to stay out of this room, I studied late nights so that I wouldn’t be a bother to you, I started dating because it was all I could do to distract myself from–” As if his words had caught up to him, Derek’s eyes widened and he ripped his arm out of Stiles’ grasp. It took everything in Stiles not to reach out to him again.

“Distract yourself from what?” Stiles asked so softly that he wasn’t sure Derek had heard him.

Derek turned around, his shoulders sagging as he let out a deep breath, and said, “From you.”

“Me?” Stiles couldn’t help how broken his voice sounded. The admission barreled toward him like an out of control car looking for its next victim and Stiles was powerless to stop the inevitable pain that came from the crash.

“I didn’t mean it like–” Stiles wasn’t about to let Derek finish so he held up his hands.

“No, obviously things with whatever her name is are more serious than I thought and you want to spend more time with her than the person who thought they were your best friend and you know what?” Stiles took a deep breath to calm the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. “That’s completely fine, Derek, cause I don’t need someone who is going to nitpick everything that I do. I want someone who wants to spend time with me not because they’re forced to,” he stated as he picked up his laundry basket and propped it on his hip.

“You think I don’t want to spend time with you?” Derek asked as he blocked Stiles’ only exit to the door. Stiles scoffed and narrowed his eyes at Derek, replaying his words in his head over again to be sure he wasn’t making it up.

“Sorry, does distract have another definition that I don’t know about? It seems like you want to keep as far away from me as possible and are choosing to spend time with this girl over me,” Stiles countered. It was the only explanation he could think of and at the moment it sounded incredibly reasonable.

Derek laughed and took a step toward Stiles as he said, “I’m moving in with Boyd and I don’t have a ‘girl’ anymore.” Well, that definitely changed things. Stiles wasn’t sure how long he stood there gaping at Derek, but it must have been long enough for Derek to start to feel at least a little uncomfortable as he started talking again. “I need a distraction from you because if I spend more time with you than I already do, I’m going to fall even more in love with you than I already am. And I can’t have that for obvious reasons,” Derek said, the last piece almost in a whisper.

“Obvious?” Stiles was sure that wasn’t what his next word should have been, but it was rare that he knew what was going on in Derek’s head and he wasn’t going to let the moment pass him by.

“We’re roommates, Stiles, friends. You’ve said it yourself. I’ve been trying to distance myself so that my feelings for you don’t impact that but apparently, I can’t handle it. So, I’m leaving,” Derek said as he stepped to the side as if letting Stiles make a choice, as if Stiles would choose anything other than letting Derek know they had both been stupid.

“You don’t have a girlfriend,” Stiles said slowly as he dropped the laundry basket to the ground. The noise startled Derek from his packing and he turned, nodding slowly. It was enough confirmation for Stiles to continue. “And you love me?” Derek nodded again, more surely this time as if it was easier to answer.

“Yeah,” Derek whispered, “I do, and I understand if–” Stiles grabbed the knot to Derek’s slightly off-kilter tie and before he could change his mind, he crashed their lips together.

That life changing moment that had seemed just out of grasp for so many months was finally becoming reality and Stiles felt his entire world shift into place. Derek’s hands rested gently on his hips before sliding more securely around Stiles’ back and pulling him so they were flush together. Stiles had always wondered whether it would feel like a fairy tale kissing Derek and he was happy to be proven right. Derek’s lips tasted like vanilla chapstick and a spice he couldn’t quite place and being in his arms felt like home. It might have been cliche, but he wasn’t sure he had ever been so happy.

When Derek pulled away, it was only to rest his forehead against Stiles’ and take a few deep breaths. Stiles had done the same, he thought he might have been floating. Stiles opened his eyes to see that bright smile he had always made a point to bring out in Derek and he saw that his eyelashes cast soft shadows against his cheeks as he shook his head.

“How long?” Derek asked and Stiles didn’t need context to know what he was asking.

“Since the first moment I saw you,” Stiles answered honestly because he wasn’t about to keep lying to Derek when it finally felt as though their truths were out in the open. Derek huffed out a laugh and the heat of it sent a shiver down Stiles’ spine. He realized he didn’t need an excuse to be that close to Derek anymore and the thought alone made him smile wider. “You?” Stiles asked.

Derek opened his eyes and ran his hands up Stiles’ body until he could cup Stiles’ flushed cheeks in his hands. He answered, “When you invited me into your bed after one of the worst nights of my college life.”

“We’re idiots,” Stiles chuckled, straightening Derek’s tie that he had messed up in their heated kiss.

“I was only moving out because I couldn’t keep pretending all the things you did around this room annoyed me. God, Stiles, I love every single thing about you and I’m sorry that I made you feel–” Stiles leaned forward and pressed their lips together once more just because he could and pulled away with a small smile.

“You have never made me feel anything less than lucky to have you in my life, Derek,” Stiles said and when Derek nodded, he added, “but there’s no way I’m letting you move out.” It wasn’t a question, but Derek shook his head hastily in response.

“Now you’re never getting rid of me,” Derek responded as if Stiles would ever try. He had Derek finally after months of being roommates and friends. He wasn’t about to let Derek go without being able to call him more.

[idontblushsrry]

Do You Know That I Do Love You

Chapter 1: Do You Still Think Of Me Fondly?

Next>

Word Count:

Warnings: Some swearing, smut in later chapters

A/N: This is purely self indulgent at this point. I will get my black nobility/courtly romance fic and it just so happens to be with Han Ju-Do from Yona of the Dawn (great show if you ask me I think everyone should watch it and that it deserves more but, whateverrr) I don’t know how many chapters this is going to have, I thought 2 but maybe I’ll do 3 or 4 it all depends on what I feel like is gonna complete the story the best. Reader is black, she has a Korean last name to match with the rest of the show characters. Spoilers ahead for parts of Yona Of The Dawn anime/manga

A/N Pt.2: This is based off of the concept of courtly love  but w tweaks bcus I have like no ability to stick with angst permanently, like if asked nicely, I’ll do a happy ending (Also Reader and Ju-do are both single so). This fic is also based of this song if you want to get into the vibe.

You’d been told tales of the Crimson Dragon Castle just nothing could’ve compared to the majesty of seeing it in person. The gates opened and guards announced your arrival as your carriage pulled inside. You stared in awe at the sheer size of it while your attendants whispered something to each other that you didn’t quite pick up on.

“What was that?” 

You turned and your attendants immediately went silent, squirming and failing to meet your gaze each time you tried to capture them in it.

“Nothing milady just the talk of lowly servants that you shouldn’t concern yourself with.”

You could tell though from the guilt in her tone and the way the other attendant looked as though you’d have her thrown out if you heard what she said that you knew they were discussing the reason you’d even come to the palace. You were much too old to be an unmarried woman and the constant rumours of your status ranged in believability, the most outrageous being that you were a succubus and having a husband would get in the way of your appetites.

When you’d heard it, that made you cackle because you were the furthest thing from a succubus.

 It’s not like you felt ashamed of being a virgin, you were a grown woman after all, and it’s not as though you were the sole heir to your family’s name. You had plenty of siblings to carry on the family name. The issue lied in the fact that you were the oldest, your family tradition dictated that none shall marry before the oldest and as such you’d been on the receiving end of anger from your siblings, parents, potential suitors, and all in between. 

When your father first proposed the idea of marriage to you, many of your siblings were still too young to care or remember. You could feel the concern coming from both of your parents as they urged you to meet with suitors from other clans and families. And you could feel their growing rage as you rejected one after another. 

Now nearing two decades later, your siblings, the ones who were unconcerned with your marital status so long ago were now resentful of you. Many of them had approached you individually and together with their grievances, claiming you were holding the family back and restraining them from true love, all the things you’d heard before.

They’d brought those same complaints to father and he brought up the idea of a palace visit to you. No not in so few words nor with such direct intent but the message was there. He’d brought the idea up while you fed the fish in your private reserve.

‘I think that this place is too stifling of your abilities my dear. I’d like for you to go to the Crimson Dragon Palace in my stead, I’m getting rather old and the whole thing is nothing but a diplomatic affair anyways, I’m sure you can handle it.’ You were going to turn down his offer. Not consciously out of spite but because you knew what he wanted you to do. His words seemed like the ones of a trusting father but the undertone of ‘return with a fiancé or I’ll disown you’ rang clear as a bell through your head. You may have been stubborn but you weren’t a fool, your family had grown impatient with your antics and if this behavior continued, they’d send you packing without so much as a goodbye.

You’d contemplated that idea and thought up the pros and cons to being disowned. It wasn’t until you heard two maids whispering outside your room that night that you made your decision.

‘Poor Master Seong I heard that Lady (Y/N) is preventing him from meeting his heirs.’

‘Eh? What do you mean, how could she do that?’

‘She refuses to let any of her siblings get married and as the next clan head, any marriages from her siblings that occur before her own are forbidden.’

‘Wow! Really, then why won’t she just get married already?’

‘Who knows.’

By the following night you were in a carriage on your way to the castle. Coincidentally with the two maids that spoke ill of you that night. It seems that they still haven’t gained the ability to shut up even when it’s in their best interest.

The carriage pulled up to the guest exit and you didn’t have to wait long before the carriage was opened by one of the palace servants.

“Welcome Lady Seong”

You were rushed to yet another carriage that would take you to your quarters while your attendants followed someone else to the servants’ quarters. For the first time in the weeks it’d taken you to travel here, you could feel yourself begin to truly relax. The servant next to you was stiff with rigid and tense shoulders especially compared to your unladylike and unrefined composure. But, they were quiet. You weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and you didn’t particularly feel like talking to ease the tension in the carriage, so, you ignored it. Most of it was coming from the servant not knowing how to react to you anyways.

You closed your eyes to think of the last time you felt truly happy and all your defeated mind could conjure was an image of a chubby outstretched hand handing you a six-petaled flower.

“Milady? We’ve arrived at your quarters.”

You stepped out of the dark carriage into the courtyard of the place you’d be staying. Only to find that this courtyard was slightly nicer than you’d expected a standard nobles courtyard to be. There was an abundance of flowers, rocks lining the foliage. A bridge that spanned a small river that begun with a waterfall. Birds, a gazebo lined with jewels in the far corner, and the fragrant scent of jasmine flowers.

The servant, seemingly unfazed by the extravagance, urged you to follow her with a motion of her head. Her feet leading you through the courtyard with practiced expertise, you managed to keep up with her strides by clutching your dress up some and resisting the urge to gawk at every element passing you by. 

She brought you to a spacious room similarly sized as the room you slept in back home. The room was relatively bare save for a large bed pressed against the wall in the center of the room, a wardrobe, vanity and an incense holder among other things.

She turned to you and bowed before turning to leave. “Before you leave, what’s your name?”, she froze as though she wasn’t expecting you to actually speak to her. She turned back to you with a close eyed smile.

“My name? It’s Ha-Neul”

You’d received the first and arguably the most difficult of your diplomatic duties when within 3 days of your stay, you were being summoned by King Suwon. While the letter came as a shock to you, you nearly had a heart attack when you learned you’d be meeting in the King’s personal tea gardens. You’d take it as a compliment, however, you were 1) essentially all alone with no one to back you up should you fail to be adept at conversation and 2) you’d only met the new king as a boy and in passing, you were somewhat underprepared and knew nothing more of him than what you’d heard in passing.

‘No. Don’t think like that (Y/N)’, you looked at your reflection in the mirror, your braids hung down, the tight coils of your hair wrapped up inside of them as they hung down from your scalp to frame your face. ‘You are more than capable, if it weren’t for your intelligence, you wouldn’t have made it this far. You can do this.’ You took a look at your outfit. It was unfit to meet the king. But before you could begin working yourself up into another nervous tizzy, Ha-neul knocked on your door, her consistent rapping against it breaking you out of your anxious reverie.

Ha-Neul was truly a miracle worker. She’d managed to make your previously tense body appear completely calm and put together with a few twists of her wrists and some careful thought into what she’d have you wear to meet with the king.

By the time the carriage had stopped, the anxiety in your gut had settled to a deep thrum that would remind you of its presence at the very center of your being but wouldn’t seize control of your body. This mercy provided by your anxiety allowed you to put one foot in front of the other like you’d done since you were a child, albeit with a more conscious effort.

You’re led by a flurry of servants and guards to where Suwon was sitting so tranquilly in his tea gardens. It was amazing how much he’d grown since you’d last seen him but those same features he had as a child seemed to have aged with his spirit. You didn’t know why but you got this deep guttural feeling that he’d done something akin to a betrayal of himself. It showed oh so subtly in the way he drank his tea with an air of  practiced indifference that he tried to cover with a layer of oversaturated artificial happiness.

“Lady Seong, it’s good to see you. I hope your quarters are to your liking.”

Showtime.

You bowed respectfully to him before replying, “Yes, the room is lovely and even more so the courtyard. I’d love to speak with the person who designed it. How have you been your majesty?”

You’d hoped flattery would work with him, all your cues were being taken from him but it was near impossible to get a read on him. You kept your tone and demeanor light and cheery but eve still that was all he was giving you. It was like he was trying to gauge you at the same time.

Oh, you realized embarrassingly belatedly, this is a test.

The new king couldn’t afford any threats to his power and securing allyship while weeding out untrustworthy people was the most effective way for him to achieve that in lieu of starting a full-scale war. 

But Kouka didn’t need that. 

Since you were attending in your father’s stead, he’s likely assumed that you’re the new head of your clan, ‘If only he knew’.

Well, if it’s a test he wants then a test he’ll get. Two could play that game and you always were very good at mind games.

It feels as though it’s been about 30 minutes of you and King Suwon exchanging formalities, trying to see who’d crack. But finally, the tea and snack get delivered and you realize that for now, you’d reached a stalemate with the King. You could count it as a win but judging from the fact you still couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you mentally conceded to the standstill with him,  and from the sigh he let out it seems he’s resigned himself to the same fate.

“Let’s eat then shall we.” he says good-naturedly, like the careful tension of your previous exchange never happened, so you nod in agreement. Waiting for him to take the first bite and sip before following suit. You close your eyes and simply enjoy the gentle floral taste and aroma of the tea. You take a moment of respite in the tea and neglect your surroundings for a moment.

You hear big clunky footsteps hurry their way down the hallway you and Suwon are staying in before, “My King, I apologize for my lateness, and while inexcusable, I hope that you can forgive me.”

You recognize that voice, you move to open your eyes at the same time the man stands up and before King Suwon can get his answer out, you interrupt him with “Ju...do?”

He looks down at you with a sneer looking ready to give you a tongue- lashing for interrupting the King and calling him out of his station. Before a look of recognition flashes in his eyes and he looks away hurriedly, calling your name with a formal “Lady Seong, I didn’t know you were at the castle."

Ok, ouch. Few things hurt worse than the person you’d spent an embarrassing amount of time fawning over as a teenager (and young adult) dismissing you with such a dismissive and cold formality. 

You’d already fucked up by interrupting the King and you weren’t about to fuck up again by not responding to a General when directly addressed by one. “I didn’t know you were at the castle either, General.” If you were nothing more than a formality to him, then he’d be nothing more than a formality to you.

Yes you were aware of how petty and flimsy that logic was. He hadn’t seen you in years, of course he was going to be cordial with you. But the other part of you, the person who was heartbroken by the same man who stood in front of you right now, someone that you thought you buried long ago, hoped that calling him General hurt just as much as hearing him call you anything but (Y/N).

[eleven-times-lively]

The First Day

In which You and Fred send your daughters off to Hogwarts for the first time.💕 masterpost

Summary: You and Fred part ways with your girls for the first time, and the newfound freedom makes you realise new truths about each other. Word Count: 3295 Note: This took soooo long to write!! Sorry for the delay! Also, the next chapter will be 85.7% angst. Also sorry this is so short. I know I said it would be longer, and it was meant to be but I wrote the ending and it made me feel things and it felt like a fantastic stopping point and bridge to the next chapter. So ch.8 will open with the original ending to this chapter.

You woke up, still groggy, to the sun shining in through the window. You rolled over and felt a still sleeping Fred beside you. His chest moved up and down with his shallow breathing as he slept. You peacefully admired your husband as you transitioned into a more awake state. However, the moment of peace was quickly disrupted as you heard shouts in the halls and your doorknob shaking before the door flew open. Fred shot up in the bed, thrown out of his deep sleep, as his gaze quickly whipped around the room. The two of you were ready for a dementor attack, but alas it was just your two daughters, staring up at you from the foot of the bed with their big, innocent doe eyes. 

The two pairs of eyes blinked up at you and Fred expectantly… silently. You and Fred exchanged confused glances, looking between each other and the girls. The moment of silence was short lived as the girls quickly broke into a flurry of movement and words. All you could catch were drawn out mentions of shopping, wands, and floo powder. You and Fred chuckled to yourselves as you peeled away from the bed. 

Fred snuck behind an excited Callie and snatched her up into his arms, earning an excited shriek from the girl. You did the same with Cassie and together you all headed down to the living room for morning tea. 

You were all settled around the dining table, the girls finally calmed, when you had a normal discussion about the day ahead. 

“So,” Fred began, fingers tapping his mug as he peered over the edge, “are you ladies excited to get your school supplies?” 

“Absolutely!”, Callie cheered, reaching for the letter that was on the shelf behind her. “I can’t wait to get my wand, and to organise everything to get ready!” You and Fred chuckled at your daughter, a gleam in her eye at the promise of packing and planning.

“And I…” Cassie began, drawing out the vowel, “am excited to visit all the shops and meet some people! Hopefully some students will be there!”

You and Fred nodded and smiled at your daughters in front of you. The once adorable babies had turned into young, intelligent girls that would soon be off to school.

“But still,” you piped up, a warning tone in your voice, “that doesn’t mean you can burst into Mummy and Daddy’s room unannounced.” You glanced down at them, not particularly mad or upset.

“Oh, come one, love,” Fred responded to you, “they were having fun. Remember how excited we were?”

“Of course, Freddie,” a more scolding tone hinting at the edges of your voice, “but barging in like that is rude and they need to know that.”

“Nonsense,” was all he said as he stood up.  He was headed to the kitchen when he noticed the twins were no longer seated at the table. “Guess we were so busy that we didn’t even notice our daughters slip away.”

You just rolled your eyes and headed out to the back gardens, and you noticed a few more chips of paint had come off the doorframe. You made a mental note to fix that later.

***

A few hours later, it was time to head to Diagon Alley. You had promised the girls you could use the Floo Network as a special treat. You had access through your fireplace, but the girls knew it was off limits due to the risk and dangers should they not properly dictate.

After a long lecture and teaching of the Floo Network, the four of you arrived in Diagon Alley. “Should we just let them off on their own?” Fred asked, wrapping an arm around your waist as you walked. 

“Seriously?”, you cocked an eyebrow up at him, leaning into his grasp. The girls were already a few metres ahead of you, bounding through the crowds.

“Yeah,” he responded coolly, “they know the place like the back ‘a their hands. They grew up here, y/n.” He was walking at a calm, breezy pace, seemingly forgetting that this was the last time you’d see your daughters for an extended period of time… until Christmas at least. 

“I don’t know, Freddie,” you spoke reluctantly, the thought behind your words evident.  “It’s a special day, we should stay with them.”

Fred silently agreed, nodding as he walked. The four of you went in and out of each shop, the girls stopping to admire the various wonders held within each. 

“Look at this!” Cassie exclaimed, admiring the ostentatious, advanced-skill telescope before her. She peered her eye in the wrong end and let out an exaggerated “Wow!” in reaction. You chuckled as you ruffled her hair and walked past.

“I think we should stick with something simpler, love,” you reminded as you walked over to Callie, who was selecting her phials. “Crystal, eh?” you acknowledged her over her shoulder, causing her to startle slightly. You chuckled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “May look nicer,” you began, “but glass will last longer. Don’t want to have to buy a new set next year.” She nodded and grabbed the glass set instead. 

With scales, cauldrons, phials, and telescopes in hand, the four of you headed out of the first store and back into the bustling chaos of the street. You and Fred quickly apparated the supplies back home before guiding the girls into Madam Malkin’s for uniforms. 

After not twenty minutes, you realised this would be the most daunting part of the day.

“But whyyy is it all black?” Cassie groaned, picking up her winter cloak. You opened your mouth to respond, but Callie beat you to it.

“Because,” she began, her face pointed, “it shows uniformity and professionalism. This is a school, not a funhouse,” she said matter-of-factly before wandering off. Your eyes widened in awe and confusion before guiding Cassie to the gloves section.

Fred leaned down to her, whispering, “Don’t worry, love, I hated the uniforms too.” He winked.

“But daddy!”, she giggled, “that was so long ago! You haven’t been to school in ages!”

Fred brought his hand up to clutch his chest and his face contorted in mock offense. “How dare you!” he jokingly gasped, “I will have you know it has only been…” he paused for a moment, eyes darting back and forth as he counted in his head, “seventeen years since I’ve graduated!” His look of ‘ha! I’ll show her!’ quickly turned into a look of ‘Merlin, am I that old?’ as he scoffed and walked off. You chuckled and helped Cassie finish up her selections. 

Hours later, countless books carried, and galleons spent, it was time for the much awaited wand selections. The girls were practically jumping for joy as they skipped towards Ollivander’s. They got mere steps in the door before they stopped dead in their tracks, heads tilted upward and mouths open in awe. The both gasped as they spun around, taking in the sights around them. It had never occurred to you how amazing the sight truly was. Boxes upon boxes stacked on every available surface, ladders flying about the room and wands floated about, excited wizards grasping their very first wands for the very first time. It was truly intimidating and astounding all at once.

You and Fred each placed your hands on the girls shoulders, guiding them within the shop to the front counter. You took in a deep sigh, awaiting the long, enduring process ahead. 

            The girls looked on in amazement as they were asked questions before their wands found them. After many moments, anxious waiting from you and Fred, and the girls bouncing up and down, Callie and Cassie had received their wands. 

            Cassie has been selected by an intricate and unique wand. A nine and a half inch cedar wand with a unicorn hair core and a dainty, intricate swirled carving down the length of the hilt. 

            Callie had been selected by a stoic, powerful wand. Eleven inches, hawthorn wood, and a dragon heartstring core made up the fierce and daunting wand adorned with runes along the length. 

            You felt tears prick at your eyes as you wrapped an arm around Fred’s shoulders. Remembering your own wand selection, how overjoyed and nervous you were; awaiting the new chapter ahead. He placed a kiss to your head as the two of you rejoined the girls, congratulating them and guiding them out of the shop.

***

Hours later, after checking in on the store and finally heading home, the girls got set on packing. It was just as much of a chaotic mess as you’d expect.

“Cassie, that's my jumper!” Callie shrieked, taking the garment from her twin.

“No it isn’t!” Cassie shot back. “It has a ‘C’ on it!,” she grabbed the jumper back, “it’s mine!” Fred was snickering in the corner, watching the whole thing play out.

“Both our names start with a ‘C’ you daft bim-,” 

“Calliope!”, you shouted when you came into the room at just the right time. “You do not call your sister names!” You weren’t particularly mad, but you were yelling. “It is her sweater,” you explained, “yours are blue, Cassie’s are purple.” You huffed as you stared down at them. Tensions were high and you didn’t get like this often, they just sat staring up at you. Callie rolled her eyes and went back to her packing while Cassie snickered and turned back to her own.

Fred had a smirk on his face that was quickly gone when you walked over to him. “Alright, love?”, he tested.

“Clearly not,” you groaned, walking out of the room.

***

“Hey, love?” Fred asked from the corner of the room. The girls had long since gone to bed, and you were curled up on the couch with a book.

“Hmm?”, you responded, sitting up on the couch to face him. 

He sat behind you and pulled you into his lap. His arms wrapped tightly around you as he breathed in your sweet scent and placed a kiss to the top of your head. “Can we talk about earlier?”

“What about?”

“You got pretty upset with the girls. Perhaps unreasonably so?” His arms squeezed tighter and you could hear the hesitation in his voice. 

“They were arguing, Fred. Perhaps unreasonably so,” you lightly chuckled, “Callie called her sister a bimbo, Fred.” The agitation was evident in your tone.

“Well, yeah, but I think you overreacted just a touch, love.” His fingers came to play with your own. The sly git knew just what to do to calm you down, trying his hardest to avoid a fight.

“Overreacted?” the annoyance was evident, but your tone remained level. “I don’t know about you, but I won’t have our daughters treat each other that way. At least not in this house.”

“That’s just sibling banter, love,” he placed another kiss to your head as he felt you tense in his lap. “I know you don’t have experience with that, but trust me it’s normal, especially for twins.” He expected another retort, and was considerably confused when he felt you shaking. 

You sighed and began to cry lightly. “What if they won’t be okay without us?” The tears streamed down your face as worse-case scenarios ran through your head. 

Fred gripped your hips and turned you around so that you were seated on his lap, fully facing him. His thumbs gently wiped away tears as his hands cupped your face. “Love,” he whispered, gazing directly into your eyes. He needn’t say more, his soft visage seeming to touch your soul. You’d had the conversation countless times before, and the words didn’t need to be said again. Deep down you knew that the twins would be perfectly fine on your own. But your motherly instinct and need to constantly protect them continued to overshadow and cloud your judgement. Fortunately your strong, doting husband was constantly there for you to calm all of your fears with just one look or the touch of his hands.

The tears stopped and your breathing steadied as you leaned into him. You came to rest yourself on his chest, legs stretching out across him. He ran his hands up and down your back, occasionally coming to brush through your hair, and you buried yourself in his chest. You were nearly asleep when you felt him gently drum his fingers on your hips. “We should head up to bed, love,” he whispered as his hands lightly gripped your hips.

You hummed against him, mind in agreement but body remaining steadfast against your husband. He chuckled lightly as he stood up and held you in his arms. He carried you upstairs and into your bed, where he nuzzled up next to you and held you close. His strong arms wrapped around you as you relaxed and warmed to his touch. You both quickly drifted off to sleep, both in complete adoration for one another.

***

The day finally came where you’d have to say goodbye to the twins. You and Fred woke up early, prepared to have to drag the girls out of bed, but you should’ve known better because they ended up waking you at an ungodly hour.

You and Fred prepared a final family breakfast for the girls. A full English was passed around, along with jokes, memories, and a few held back tears on your part. After breakfast, you and Fred helped the girls gather their trunks, cases, and bags and bring them downstairs. Before apparating away, you were sure to give them a quick chat.

“Now girls,” you began, crouching down to their height and taking a soft, maternal tone, “it’s going to be very busy at the station, so you need to stay by me or daddy at all times.” One twin rolled her eyes, the other flashed an awkward smile. “I’m serious,” you pressed, but while smiling at the girls, “I just want the two of you to be safe.”

“We know, mummy,” they responded in unison. You and Fred chuckled as you each took one girl’s hand and apparated to King’s Cross Station.

Upon arrival the girls stoop, mouths agape. “It’s huge!”, mused Cassie.

“That it is,” responded Callie. They stood in amazement a few moments longer as you and Fred tried to guide them inside.

“Just you wait, ladies,” he began, “the fun is just beginning.” He winked at you as the four of you entered the main building of the station.

Callie glanced down at her ticker. “Platform nine and… three quarters?” She looked up at you and Fred in confusion.

“Have you learned nothing of magical history?” Fred tsked jokingly. “Platform nine and three quarters is how we get to the…” he leaned down to whisper, “Hogwarts Express.”

Callie didn’t seem convinced, but continued nonetheless. Cassie, however, lit up with absolute glee.

The four of you got to the brick wall of Platform 9 3/4 and the girls once again looked around in awe and amusement. They were both about to question the absurdity of it all when they saw an older wizard zoom past and straight into the wall, followed by his parents who exchanged warm smiles with you and Fred. You quickly explained the process to the nervous looking girls. 

You and Fred gave them a quick chat, convincing them that absolutely nothing bad could happen. You took Cassie’s hand, Fred took Callie’s, and you prepared to cross over. You and Cassie went first, followed by Fred and Callie. You and Fred exchanged warm smiles and a small kiss on the other side, forgetting the exciting rush of crossing the platform. “Haven’t done that in seventeen years,” he mused. The girls were absolutely speechless as they took in the sights around them. Wizards roamed everywhere. Spells were shot about from those old enough, siblings pushed about their carts together, and there was an abundance of nervous first-years looking just like your twins.

“That was fun!” Cassie exclaimed, “We should do that again.” You and Fred both chuckled as you guided the girls through the crowd and over to Bill and Fleur, whose oldest daughter was the only other Weasley child old enough to attend Hogwarts yet. 

The four of you chatted for a bit while Callie and Cassie acquainted themselves with Victoire, who was already in her third year. Wizards were filing on the train at a steady pace, saying their goodbyes and finding their friends. Victoire said a swift goodbye to Bill and Fleur before heading to the train, promising to save space for the twins. Bill chuckled as he watched her leave. “Clearly it gets easier,” he smiled at you and Fred before him and Fleur took a few steps back to give the four of you some time.

Fred knelt down to the girls, tears already pricking at his eyes. “Calliope, Cassiopeia,” he spoke at a steady pace, the girls were attentive--not used to hearing their full names, “I love you so, so much and I am immensely proud of you. This is a big step forward, and I have full confidence that you will accomplish great things and make your mother and I very, very proud.” He held back his tears as best as he could, but a few inevitably fell. He gave each girl a kiss on the forehead and a tight hug before giving you a chance with your daughters. 

“Girls,” you smiled as you knelt down as Fred had, “I know I may not be the most pleasant at times, and I may not be your favorite person all the time, but please know how much I truly love you. Everything I do and say, and if I’ve gotten a little mad lately, is all because I’ve been trying to prepare you. I want you to do the best you can and to see you continue to grow into the wonderful young ladies I know you are. Please remember that we love you very much, and we’ll be thinking about you the entire time you’re gone.” You smiled and chuckled through your tears and you wrapped both of the girls in one big hug. 

The four of you said final goodbyes as the girls reluctantly boarded the train. Their cute little heads quickly popped out of one of the nearby windows, their gaze quickly finding you and Fred. And just as promised, they were seated with Victoire. You couldn’t stop your tears as the train began to pull away. Fred wrapped an arm around you and placed a kiss atop your head as the two of you waved goodbye to your girls as the train left the station. You waited until you could no longer see the train to leave, and even then needed some coaxing from Fred. You apparated home where he pulled you into a tight embrace. 

All of your emotions came forth at once. You were sobbing and shaking in the entrance to your home. Fred had his hands wrapped tightly around you and you buried into his neck. Tears streamed from his own eyes as well, both of you a mess of feeling. The two of you stayed that way for a while, processing the new dynamic settling into the home, the new chapter you’d begin, and the uncomfortable silence in the home. No longer were the pitter-patter of little feet, the high pitched giggles of young girls, the bubbling laughter from the four of you at family dinner. Instead there was an uncomfortable, deafening silence bleeding into the room. An uneasy feeling washed over you. Things were surely going to change. You and Fred were alone together for the first time in eleven years, and maybe it wouldn’t be exactly as you’d hoped.

[ao3feed-bnha-rarepair]

Tired of Being What You Want Me to Be

Tired of Being What You Want Me to Be by 3amShadyTimes

"I've become so numb, I can't feel you there I'm tired of being what you want me to be..."

Izuku Midoriya, a young hero in training, is tired.

Tired of Bakugou, Tired of the pressure and above all else tired of letting others dictate his life.

After a particularly volatile final exam, where he gives up on Bakugou and gets reprimanded by All-Might, he snaps and releases all the anger and frustration he was carrying out on his subpar mediocre teacher.

This is the story of how Izuku Midoriya became not the world's greatest hero, no this is the story of how Izuku Midoriya became his own person because that is what truly matters in this day and age.

Words: 1657, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 21 of IzuJirou Series

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Jirou Kyouka, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Sasaki Mirai | Sir Nighteye, Gran Torino, Kaminari Denki, Kirishima Eijirou, Uraraka Ochako, Ashido Mina, Asui Tsuyu, Bakugou Katsuki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Iida Tenya, Todoroki Shouto, Dabi, Toga Himiko

Relationships: Jirou Kyouka & Midoriya Izuku, Jirou Kyouka/Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Yaoyorozu Momo, Midoriya Izuku & Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku & Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu & Midoriya Izuku, Iida Tenya & Midoriya Izuku, Ashido Mina & Midoriya Izuku, Kaminari Denki & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Shinsou Hitoshi, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Everyone, Class 1-A & Midoriya Izuku, Class 1-B & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Midoriya Izuku & Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Midoriya Izuku & Nedzu, Kayama Nemuri | Midnight & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & U.A. Faculty, Kirishima Eijirou & Midoriya Izuku, Asui Tsuyu/Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki/Consequences - Relationship, Other Background Relationships To Be Added

Additional Tags: Angry Midoriya Izuku, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Kaminari Denki is a Good Friend, Jirou Kyouka is a Good Friend, Kirishima Eijirou is a Good Friend, Ashido Mina is a Good Friend, Dekusquad, Shinsou Hitoshi is in the Dekusquad, Yaoyorozu Momo is in the Dekusquad, Supportive Dekusquad, Bakusquad, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jirou Kyouka is in the Dekusquad, This needs to be tag ffs, no beta we die like sir nighteye, No Beta We Die Like The Men Kirishima Wanted Us To Be

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584419

[zktop10]

Top 10 Not Rated WIPs!

Sx: Oh my god it went off the rails, this list is wild y’all.

ADULT CONTENT! NO MINORS!

List under the cut

Title: synergy Author: Juvenilledrabbles Summary: Avatar Aang saves the world but ruins himself in the process

Or

Katara engages he who saved the world but becomes so lost in the process that she ends up arriving at the fire nation palace. - Aged up. When the battle against Ozai takes place Aang is 18, Katara is 20, and Zuko is 22. Score: 10 / 10 Tags: Firelord Zuko, Fluff, Angst, Zuko is an awkward turtleduck Last Updated: 30 Jun 2020

Title: The Dictator, the Journalist, and the Road to Democracy Author: KeysmashJones Summary: Modern AU- The Fire Nation is dictatorship, which falls to the Earth Kingdom in a coup. Zuko, having spend half his life locked away in his chambers, is pulled from isolation and placed on the throne. Meanwhile Katara, a promising young journalist specializing in international politics, is sent to interview him. Their lives (and the entire world) will change as a result. Score: 7.0 / 10 Tags: Alternate Universe, Modern Setting, Major Character Death, Slow Burn Last Updated: 25 Jun 2020

Title: Zutara Month (May 2020) Author: Neva_Borne Summary: My collection of works for Zutara Month 2020 part 2! Some will be one-shots, some will be continued in later days, and some may spark future full-length fanfics.

All of them will be Zutara. Full of goodness and spice and fluff and maybe some angst and maybe even some smut. We'll just have to see how this month plays out. Score: 5.7 / 10 Tags: Collection, One Shots, Zutara Month Last Updated: 15 May 2020

Title: Set Us On Lightning Author: faerietell Summary: When they sent the last waterbender of the South to the Fire Nation as hostage, they never expected her to set the young prince's heart on lightning. Score: 5.4 / 10 Tags: Friendship Last Updated: 26 Sep 2015

Title: The Makings of a Bad Boy Author: hopscotch_11 Summary: Katara loves bad boys. It is a well-known fact that she readily refuses to accept no matter how much evidence is stacked against her. Toph and Suki help to prove it to her when a mysterious guy on a motorcycle pulls up next to them at a red light.

Zuko is far from a bad boy. He couldn't even try to fool himself. But when he met Katara, confidence he never thought he possessed took over him. Suddenly he was smooth and flirty, and not at all like the awkward stumbling mess he usually is.

Now Toph will have to teach him the ways of a bad boy, so he doesn't reveal the shy, timid guy that is truly at the center of his core being.

How long Zuko be able to pull off this charade and win over the girl of his dreams? Score: 5.2 / 10 Tags: Alternate Universe, Modern Setting, Mutual Pining Last Updated: 22 Jun 2020

Title: Random Author: takawbelle University is a teeming mass of random humanity but for college freshman Katara, there's one boy she keeps on bumping into. Score: 5.1 / 10 Tags: Alternate Universe, Modern Setting, College Setting, Zutara Month Last Updated: 29 Jun 2020

Title: The Art of Finding Each Other Author: TinyRayOfSun Summary: The war is over. However, barely a week has passed since Team Avatar ended it. Now, they are all trying to acclimatize to the new world and their new responsibilities.

Katara and Zuko have shared many experiences. Still, there are some mutual feelings between them that were left unexplored, ignored and put on hold in order to focus on the bigger picture. They are even technically involved with other people, despite their clear connection to each other.

When the start of a new era and Zuko’s search for his mother finds them working closer than ever before, those feelings finally start coming to light. The only question left to be settled is whether or not they will be able to deal with them.

— Or: My really slow burn Zutara take on Zuko’s search for his mom. Score: 5.0 / 10 Tags: Post Canon, Slow Burn Last Updated: 27 Jun 2020

Title: In Royal Blue Author: natlovesyou Summary: When the night of passionate, forbidden love comes back to haunt them, Zuko and Katara must face the biggest challenge yet: a child. Hearts will be broken, anger will arise, and the two new parents must protect their daughter from the cold and prejudice world. Score: 5.0 / 10 Tags: Steam Bab(y/ies) Last Updated: 16 Aug 2019

Title: Steam Will Rise Author: AddictedToTheWrittenWord Summary: Southern Water Tribe princess Katara is arranged to be married to Hahn, the arrogant Prince of the Northern Water Tribe, but after negotiations break down over women's rights to become waterbenders the marriage contract is broken. Angry over the loss of the financial gain Hahn's father, Chief Pakku, orders the Northern Water Tribe's Navy to cut off the Southern Water Tribe's main trade routes. Over the years Pakku's tactics take their toll on the Southern Water Tribe leaving them desolate without enough food or medicine to sustain the village. In a desperate bid to save his people Chief Hakoda negotiates an uneasy marriage alliance with their one time enemies, the Fire Nation.

Funding a war for 100 years has nearly bankrupted the Fire Nation forcing regent Fire Lord Iroh to agree to the marriage alliance between his nephew the future Fire Lord and the Water Tribe Princess, but the still embittered North will do anything in their power stop the alliance from happening and attacks the young newlyweds on their maiden voyage from Hira'a to the Fire Nation. Without the support of their friends, family, or countries Zuko and Katara must now survive the North's onslaught and each other. Score: 4.9 / 10 Tags: Zutara Week Last Updated: 11 Apr 2020

Title: Ever After Author: Melissa1226 Summary: Katara and Zuko enter marriage and life but even though the war has ended death may take one of them. Score: 4.8 / 10 Tags: Smut, Angst, Steam Bab(y/ies) Last Updated: 12 Mar 2020

[ao3feed-bnha-girls]

Tired of Being What You Want Me to Be

Tired of Being What You Want Me to Be by 3amShadyTimes

"I've become so numb, I can't feel you there I'm tired of being what you want me to be..."

Izuku Midoriya, a young hero in training, is tired.

Tired of Bakugou, Tired of the pressure and above all else tired of letting others dictate his life.

After a particularly volatile final exam, where he gives up on Bakugou and gets reprimanded by All-Might, he snaps and releases all the anger and frustration he was carrying out on his subpar mediocre teacher.

This is the story of how Izuku Midoriya became not the world's greatest hero, no this is the story of how Izuku Midoriya became his own person because that is what truly matters in this day and age.

Words: 1657, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 21 of IzuJirou Series

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, F/M

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Jirou Kyouka, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Sasaki Mirai | Sir Nighteye, Gran Torino, Kaminari Denki, Kirishima Eijirou, Uraraka Ochako, Ashido Mina, Asui Tsuyu, Bakugou Katsuki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Iida Tenya, Todoroki Shouto, Dabi, Toga Himiko

Relationships: Jirou Kyouka & Midoriya Izuku, Jirou Kyouka/Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Yaoyorozu Momo, Midoriya Izuku & Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku & Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu & Midoriya Izuku, Iida Tenya & Midoriya Izuku, Ashido Mina & Midoriya Izuku, Kaminari Denki & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Shinsou Hitoshi, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Everyone, Class 1-A & Midoriya Izuku, Class 1-B & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Midoriya Izuku & Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Midoriya Izuku & Nedzu, Kayama Nemuri | Midnight & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & U.A. Faculty, Kirishima Eijirou & Midoriya Izuku, Asui Tsuyu/Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki/Consequences - Relationship, Other Background Relationships To Be Added

Additional Tags: Angry Midoriya Izuku, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Kaminari Denki is a Good Friend, Jirou Kyouka is a Good Friend, Kirishima Eijirou is a Good Friend, Ashido Mina is a Good Friend, Dekusquad, Shinsou Hitoshi is in the Dekusquad, Yaoyorozu Momo is in the Dekusquad, Supportive Dekusquad, Bakusquad, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Jirou Kyouka is in the Dekusquad, This needs to be tag ffs, no beta we die like sir nighteye, No Beta We Die Like The Men Kirishima Wanted Us To Be

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584419

[godknowsqueen]

punch you, love you ; ben hardy x reader

Summary: Recently, you and Ben get on each other’s nerves like there is no tomorrow, but there’s a little something hidden underneath all that bitterness.

Warnings: Swear words, angst, flufffffffff. I also have zero knowledge in makeup so pls forgive me.

Word Count: 2,293 words.

A/N: This is my second attempt at writing a Ben Hardy x Reader oneshot. Do let me know if you have any comments or feedback in mind! Hope you enjoy this :’)

Being the makeup artist on the Bohemian Rhapsody movie set was like a dream come true to you. Queen has been your all-time favorite band, so getting to have a job were you see Brian May and Roger Taylor on almost a daily basis was like a blessing. What made it even better is that you get to transform four amazing actors into that brilliant band with the power of your makeup tools. 

There was only one problem: one of them has been lately irritating the hell out of you. Ben Hardy. 

It was another day at work, and you were prepping the boys for their “I Want to Break Free” scene.

“Oh, look at those eyelashes, darling. They make my eye colour truly pop!” Rami said in a bit of a high-pitched voice.

“Rami, you are turning to Freddie,” you chuckled as you carefully put the finishing touches on the left eyelashes. 

“That is the plan,” he gave you a wink, attempting to show off his new eyelashes. 

“Now, Bri- I mean Gwilym, I’ll just apply some spray to keep that makeup in place, so keep your eyes closed,” you dictated, shaking a bottle of spray.

“Do I really look that much like Brian? I feel like I look more like Aunt Petunia from Harry Potter at the moment,” Gwilym said, squeezing his eyes shut, and making you laugh with his horrifyingly accurate statement.

“Lord, you made me laugh and some of that nasty spray got in my mouth, Gwilym!” your face scrunched up in disgust, but you managed to keep laughing. “Or should I say Aunt Petunia?” 

With that, you scurried away to where Joe was sitting, trying to escape the wrath of Gwilym trying to hit you with a towel. 

“Well, hello grandma Joe,” you took a little brush and dipped it in a brown powder. “I’ll just adjust some of your wrinkles and you are free to go,” you started slowly brushing along the corners of Joe’s eyes and lips. 

“Thank you, young lady! Maybe after this scene you can give me some anti-aging creams to get rid of them?” Joe tried to pull off his best grandma voice, and you tried your best to not laugh and mess up the makeup you have previously spent nearly 2 hours on.

“Grandma Joe, stop being a jerk by trying to make me laugh.”

“Oh, now dear that is not a way to talk to your elders! Where are the manners of these kids nowadays!?” he raised his voice and rolled his eyes to Gwilym, who shook his head in agreement.

“Shut it, you two,” you removed your brush-handling hand off of Joe’s face, proceeding to lightly punch the two guys on their arms. They started snickering like little boys as they got off their seats. 

“Kids, you need to calm down,” Rami chimed in as he wore his pink earrings, channeling his inner Mercury yet again. A few seconds later, he walked over to where you stood, and gave your arm a light squeeze, “Thank you, (Y/N), you did a wonderful job with our makeup for that scene!”

“Yeah, you rock, even when you make fun of us,” Joe muttered in a joking tone.

“And even when we give you a hard time,” Gwilym agreed, twirling around a little in his nightgown.

You heart warmed at their sudden gratefulness, and a genuine smile formed on your lips, “You guys! Thank you so much, it makes me happy to be working with you. Now, enough with the cheesiness and go shoot your scene!” you hurried them off, but you felt like you were forgetting something.

“Um, speaking of giving me a hard time, actually, where the hell is Ben?” you place your knuckles on your hips, an apparent angry look taking over your features. 

“I’m literally right here,” a cold, deep voice arose behind you. You took a deep breath, trying to contain your anger before turning around to look at him. With that, the three other guys awkwardly left the room. They knew it wasn’t going to go well.

There he was, Ben Hardy, with his lipstick faded and one side of his cheek lacking the proper amount of foundation. The sight of the makeup you worked hard on being smudged got on your nerves. Or maybe because it was the sight of Ben that made you angry.

“What happened to the makeup?” 

“I went out for a quick smoke,” Ben avoided your gaze, feeling a little bit guilty.

“Okay, the lipstick fading from the cigarette I understand, but what about the foundation?” you turned around, preparing again the tools you’ll use to fix this.

“One of the girls cast as the groupies gave me a kiss on the cheek and I had to rub her lipstick off of my face,” he squared his arm, “anymore questions, officer?”

You closed your eyes, placing a brush a little bit too strongly on the counter. You felt super irritated, but what made you angrier was that tug at your heart when he said that one of the girls kissed him on the cheek. 

(Y/N), he is an asshole. You are NOT jealous. Just get this over and done with. It is your job, after all. 

Turning back to him, you point the swivel chair in his direction, and you motion  for him to take a seat. His eyes, which were previously avoiding you, were now lingering on you as he strutted to the chair in his little black Rogerina skirt. You started working on his face, fixing every mishap that messed up the makeup.

What if he wasn’t just smoking? What if he was hooking up with that girl? Whatever, I don’t care.

You both sat in silence for a couple of minutes before Ben starts speaking again, “So, it’s either you interrogate me or you’re awfully silent? Is there no in-between?” 

At that moment, you were perfecting a bit of his eyeliner, and you summoned all of the power within you to stop yourself from poking his eyes out. If only they weren’t so damn beautiful.

“Ben, if I were you, I would be scared of pissing off someone who is working so closely to my face.”

“What can you even do?”

“Oh, I don’t know, punch you in the goddamn face? But instead I’m here trying to be a good person and do my job correctly,” you replied rather harshly, his cold tone irritating you with every word he spoke. “And I’m also not going around kissing guys on the cheek and ruining their makeup,” you said in a very low voice as you turned away from him, grabbing the makeup setting spray. 

“Excuse me?”

“What?”

“I heard that, don’t act stupid, (Y/N).”

“Oh, you’ve got some nerve calling me stupid.”

Ben was now out of his chair, standing firmly right in front of you with his arms squared. Although he was trying to be intimidating, his current outfit, wig, and makeup were not helping him. 

You stood there, raising your eyebrows at him, your hands placed on your sides. You were silently thanking God that no one was in the room to witness this fight.

“I didn’t call you stupid, I was precisely saying do not act stupid. There is a difference.”

“Oh, wow, there is?” you replied sarcastically.

“Yes, and it looks like you need to learn it,” he snapped back.

“And you need to learn to be nicer!” you started shouting a little.

“I am nice, it’s not my fault that you don’t see it! You only notice how funny Joe, Gwilym, and Rami are. But no, I’M the asshole,” Ben’s deep voice was getting louder.

“What? You know that I’ve always loved you all equally. You are the one who started getting weird and annoying a couple of months back. You’re off, you’re cold, and just plain annoying. You are always nitpicking at anything I do, and it definitely takes its toll on me. So don’t be fucking surprised when I’m being bitchy all of a sudden because of the way YOU have been acting, Benjamin,” you ended your rant, calling him Benjamin for the first time in the entirety of the past year you have worked on set.

Ben looked a bit taken aback, his eyes widened at the sudden anger that has erupted from you. You were usually a person that kept her peace, so this was so new for him to witness. 

And just like word vomit, Ben uttered, “You are so hot when you are mad.” 

The look on your faces made it evident that even he can’t believe that he actually just said that. 

“W-what?” you felt yourself blushing, but a puzzled look remained on your face as you took a little step back away from him. 

My heart is beating so fast, what the hell is this?

“S-sorry, forget I said anything, it’s been a tiring day. Just-”

Word vomit, again. This time, it’s you: “Just shut up and kiss me.”

With the swiftest move possible, Ben’s hands cup either sides of your face as his lips crash onto yours. His right hand slowly lets go of your cheek only to embrace your waist, pulling your body closer to his. Your hands were resting on his hard chest. As your lips move in sync with each other, you start tugging at his pink and yellow tie, deepening the kiss. For people that irritated each other 99% of the time, it felt like you guys have been kissing each other for years. 

Ben breaks the kiss for a few seconds, opening his eyes to take a good look at your pretty ones. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he utters a few words, “you also look so hot with your cheeks firing up like that, too.” His thick accent manages to turn your insides into mush, making you uncontrollably smile despite trying to keep your calm poise. 

“And you look very fine with that skirt, I must say,” you let out a small giggle, gathering up the courage to plant a sweet kiss on his pink lips. As soon as you break it, Ben sends another small kiss, making you feel like he just couldn’t get enough of you.

His hands leave the side of your face and waist to tuck a stranded lock of hair behind your ears.

“So, why was all of that affection buried behind this bitterness?” you asked, holding one of his hands as you innocently looked at the floor under your feet. 

“I was confused as hell, (Y/N). I promised myself that I will give my all to this movie, and that I wouldn’t let any kind of emotions or relationships distract me,” his serious voice suddenly gave out a chuckle, “but then you came into our lives and I had to deal with you every day. In the beginning, it was easy to handle, but as the days went by, I couldn’t help but admit to myself the feelings I have been denying for months. These feelings just kept on growing like crazy.”

“And not knowing what do with these feelings, you decided that the best thing you could do is self-preserve by being distant and acting completely opposite to the way you felt, yeah?” you completed, earning a startled look from him.

“Exactly! How did you know?” Ben questioned, his hands softly squeezing yours.

“Been there,” you laughed and carried on, “with you. Funny enough, I had the same mindset you had. I guess that’s why we were so extra with our bitterness, we didn’t know that we were fighting the same battle,” you ended your words with a shrug. A couple of seconds later, you noticed Ben’s eyes giving you a very tender look. 

“What?” you spoke softly, admiring the features of his face.

“I really like you, (Y/N),” Ben uttered, a little color rising on his cheeks despite the foundation covering it.

“I really like you, too, Ben,” you shyly said, “but I think I really like Rogerina, too, so I don’t know where my feelings are exactly,” you teased him, your fingers ruffling the hem of his skirt. 

“Oh, shut it, love,” he gave you a cheeky grin, his hands moving to tickle your waist a little. 

“Why is Ben’s makeup taking forever? We need him on set right now, (Y/N)!” you heard the director shout from outside.

“Shit, your makeup is ruined again because of the kiss!” you squeezed the bridge of your nose with one hand, pushing Ben with the other onto the chair again.

“He’ll be ready in five!” you shouted back, scurrying to fix the mess you’ve made. Ben kept cheekily chuckling at your worried state, his eyes lingering on your every move.

“Do you think they killed each other?” you heard Joe whisper as he, Gwilym, and Rami walked into the room. 

“Hey guys, is everything alright?” Gwilym worryingly stated, the other two guys appearing next to him. 

Both you and Ben quickly turned to look at them and spoke in unison, “Everything's fine!”

Rami’s lips twisted into a sneaky smirk, “Judging by the absolutely messed up lipstick on Ben’s lips and the smudges of, coincidentally, pink lipstick on (Y/N)’s lips, I think they were far, far from killing each other.” 

You and Ben froze as the three other guys burst out laughing at your expressions. Although they were shocked at how things turned out to be between the two of you, they still couldn’t stop their laughter.

"So, you guys are a thing now?” Rami continued, standing smugly in his high heels.

“God knows!” Ben winked at you, earning a smile from you that made his heart skip a beat.

[sidereal-fantasies]

Intentions

[Prince!Hyungwon]

Scenario Time!

Genre: Royalty AU, Slight Angst, General

Pairing: Prince!Hyungwon/Knight!Reader

WARNING(S): None, but it isn’t fluff.

Ethereal.

That’s how you would describe Prince Hyungwon.

Fifth in line for the throne and known throughout the kingdom for his rather chic, sophisticated demeanor. His touch and stride, full of grace, always left everyone in awe. Tired gazes were always casted down to a book, scanning carefully while he lingered in the hallways. Many maids claim he simply lazes about, nothing he ever does is worth true gossip of the kingdom staff. Others practically avoided the living Greek statue, for fear of the quiet emotions that gently stir within the young man. A man of mystery; no one truly knew what Hyungwon was contemplating when he strolled quietly out of meetings with his brothers. His gaze, though tired despite the inhuman amount of sleep he manages, were clouded. No one knew what he may be pondering these days.

Then, there was you.

Captain of the Royal Guard, training since birth in order to properly protect the royal family from any and all dangers. You were the epitome of honor and loyalty; never afraid to call out those who doubt relations and tensions between the seven princely brothers. You were the glue that held the band of knights together through all battles. Scarred possibly too much to be “gentle” in the eyes of some, your heart was as pure as gold. Plain as can be, you were simply the captain of the royal guard. Yet, you couldn’t help, but to dwell on the idea of being something else in the eyes of Prince Hyungwon. Unfortunately, you were only ever meant to be the Captain of the Royal Guard which left you in a one-sided love forbidden by society’s cruel expectations and social classes.

“It finally happened! What shall we do?”

The staff had been scrambling since dawn, terror written in their wide eyes as they frantically gathered anything they could in their shaky hands. It had been a quiet morning until one of the assigned maids had discovered an unusual note in one of the sleeping chambers of the princes. To say the least, the worst possible fear had became reality.

“What did? And why are all of you packing up?” you inquired as you walked into the kitchen.

One young maid shrieked, dropping a few glass plates in the process before looking up at you.

“The brothers. The youngest finally left and is waging a war against the eldest. We knew it was going to happen in the future. Prince Changkyun always had that aura of mischief,” the older maid commented as she swept up the shards. “We’re just worried about choosing sides as it seems the brothers have already done so.”

Your heart dropped immediately. It took a few seconds for you to register that the current state of the kingdom left little time for the staff to escape. With that in mind, you rushed to the maids’ sides and began to usher them out of the kitchen.

“It’s not worth selling these then if that is the case,” you mentioned. The older maid furrowed her eyebrows at you.

“I beg your pardon, my knight, but you aren’t expecting a full-blown war, are you now?”

You kept your lips tightly shut and continued to push the two out of the door before closing it behind them. You stood there silently, hands gripping the metal handle until your knuckles turned white as you listened closely to their fading voices. Once out of range, you exhaled and slumped against the nearest wall. Surely, you had all expected the brothers to split soon. Tensions boiled between the two eldest, Hyunwoo and Hoseok, and the two youngest, Changkyun and Jooheon ever since their father fell ill. Prince Changkyun was another mysterious member of the family. The difference between Prince Hyungwon, whom was simply quiet due to his rather soft nature, and Prince Changkyun, who brooded from time to time, was the way they disguised their true intentions. It was no secret indeed as the older maid had implied earlier, that Prince Changkyun had a problem with Prince Hyunwoo becoming king due to lineage; it was a matter of time before the dark prince himself made a move.

“The other princes!” you exclaimed.

You scrambled to your feet and darted out of the kitchen, already in a full sprint. You had your assumptions about where each brother would fall to, yet you were scared. Terrified, actually, by the reality that this isn’t some normal dispute. You knew when war was coming. You’ve been in too many to not know the forewarnings of tragedy.

“Prince Hyungwon!” you called out as you turned the corner.

Sleepy, brown eyes found you slowing to a stop in front of him. A content smile laid on his plump lips as he patiently waited for you to catch your breath.

“You’re out of uniform? Is it your day off of guard duty?” he noted as he gestured toward your common attire.

“This was not planned, my prince. My apologies for the inconvenience,” you murmured as you bowed. Hyungwon dismissed you with a hand before he placed his book down.

“I’m assuming you’ve heard the news then,” Hyungwon mused while he gazed out the large window.

“Of course- I mean, yes, the maids never stop gossipping,” you replied, keeping your gaze casted to the ground.

A short chuckle escaped the tall male which caused your cheeks to burn a little warmer than usual.

“Thank you for checking up on me, if that is what you’re here for,” he stated as he stole another glance at you.

For Hyungwon, you were rather unapproachable at times due to duties and the roles both of you must maintain. Seeing you without the pristine white armor, thin silver chains, and the mahogany cape signaling your rank cladding your entire body and your hair pulled tightly out of your face made his heart flutter slightly. The unexpected vulnerability softened your battle-worn edges and brought a new kind of warmth that was usually hidden by your stone cold exterior. It wasn’t a side one witnessed often from the Captain of the Royal Guard themself.

“Of course, but I, I’m curious about your standing, my prince? You’ll have to pick a side sooner or later, so what will be?” you inquired.

The prince turned towards and began to make his way over to you. Head tilted slightly with partially curled locks framing his face just right, Hyungwon was a work of art. It intimidated you, however, as you felt yourself shrink under his gaze.

“What if I were to tell you I had no interest in the crown?” Hyungwon began, tone low enough just for you to hear. “Not like my older brother, Minhyuk, who would trade his crown to be able to explore the seas freely. But, just what if…” he trailed off.

You swallowed a hard lump in your constricting throat. Beads of sweat formed just at your temples as your heart began to beat a little louder with each step that Hyungwon took. Closer, closer, your gaze turned frantic, looking anywhere but Hyungwon’s own deep brown eyes.

“You’re too obvious, captain,” he remarked as he finally stopped in front of you. “I have no interest in the crown, but I believe you know who I rather see it with in the end. The question is will you follow me until the end? Even if my own intentions aren’t as pure as gold?”

“Of course, anything for you, my prince,” you responded without hesitation.

“Even if it meant that your fellow knights, your allies, your friends, may not follow you?”

“Of course.”

Hyungwon paused, eyebrow arched in amusement at the immediate answers.

“Even if it meant that you had to live for me at all costs?”

Finally, you looked up to the prince. You knelt down on one knee, never breaking eye contact even if you were sure that your heart would explode any second by now.

“With all my heart, my prince, I promise I won’t throw away my life.”

Noble. Like the future king himself, you prided yourself upon virtue and respect for the crown. You swore your allegiance from a young age and intend to keep yourself align with those who you believed to be just. Noble you were, like the knight in a child’s bedtime story. Noble you were; willing to give your life to keep those you loved protected from harm and willing to live for those that fallen with valor during wars of the past. Noble you were, never letting your emotions dictate and make the rash decisions you dared ponder on.

Hyungwon had always admired that of you. It was a quality not many possessed naturally; just to fit into that heroic role and to be seen as someone who can guide the lost ones down a path of righteousness and justice. You were truly a knight, through and through, with all your loyalty and chivalry. Hyungwon always wondered what would it take to break that strong shell of yours as he never expected you to be one to bow so easily to a measly prince like him.

Yet, here you were.

Infatuated, beyond the grasp of logic about Hyungwon’s clouded requests and motives. Blinded by the overwhelming amor and fervency that drowned your heart into depths unknown. You both knew you were diving head first into murky thoughts and intentions. Rationality was fading. Because here you were, kneeling with your head bowed to Prince Hyungwon, potential successor of the throne if all else failed, but dangerous conspirator to a plot far greater than you could comprehend.

How could you be so noble when the love you hold for him is suffocating you?

[aitarose]

SAKURASOU (T.OIKAWA) pairing: oikawa tooru x fem!reader

synopsis: oikawa’s life has never been void of love and affection, that of his fans and admirers—but never has he known love from the one he truly wants. 

word count: 1.0k

genre: hanahaki au, unrequited love, one-sided pining, angst

warnings: blood, terminal illness, mentions of death

notes: this was an impulse write and i don’t know why i did it bc i have like fifty other things to write first asjdkl. anyways pls enjoy, this is my application for haikyuu tumblr

↳ DIRECTORY

Ethereal. 

Y/N simply was. She was absolutely, breathtakingly, the physical embodiment of perfection in Oikawa’s mind. There was truly no other like her, no single person that could possibly touch the ground she walked upon.

There was something about her, something that kept his attention. An unknown variable that surprised him every day, forcing him to attach himself at her hip, the pain in his chest raging on for another storm.

He’d been diagnosed with Hanahaki at a young age, that being twelve. The same age in which he’d met Y/N. A much simpler time, one of soft smiles and sprints through the empty streets of Miyagi.

It was a time where he was happy, completely and unequivocally happy.

Where he hadn’t had to worry about the small, dainty petals stemming from his heart. The petals that had grown over the years, callusing the inner skin of his throat, escaping his body through coughing fits and blood.

They’d started off as morsels, leaves barely the size of the tip of his pinky. At first, it hadn’t been a bother—it was well known that the disease was very real, it being the cause of literal heartbreak.

But as the years went on, the flowers became more serious. Larger. Rougher. Light grunts became gasps for air, desperate inhales for a taste of oxygen through the thick stems and leaves.

And though he was in immense pain, Oikawa couldn’t imagine leaving behind his love for Y/N. She was his rock, the person who gave him stability and comfort—she supported him as if she, herself, were his legs.

There were two passions in his life. Two things that dictated his moves, the direction his compass was led. Two entities that could make or break his soul—Y/N and his own pride.

His own pride that had hidden his feelings for five years. The characteristic that had huddled him into his own corner, berated him, abused him, criticized him when all he had to do was speak his confession into existence.

The confession that he’d finally chosen to say now, at his absolute wits end.

“I love you.” He breathed out, the blood rushing from his lips, dripping down his chin, leaving droplets on his white sneakers. Red encased his vision, though Oikawa wasn’t sure if it was the shade of love or pain.

His body collapsed against the wall, the pounding of his heart beating louder and louder. He couldn’t tell the sound was drowning out his cries, or Y/N’s hysterical sobs.

She was across from him, her knees pulled to her chest, eyes in her palms. Tears ran like rivers flowing down the canals of her cheekbones, not overshadowing her beauty, but making it sorrowful rather than enlightened.

The aura of the room was dark, a deafening break from their usual playful banter.

And it wasn’t Oikawa’s fault. It couldn’t possibly be. How was he supposed to know that she herself suffered from Hanahaki? How was he supposed to react to the news that she felt the same unrequited love he did?

How was he supposed to feel when she retaliated his confession with a confession of her own? That being of her buried feelings for his best friend, the best friend that failed to return Y/N’s perfect love.

He was a fool. 

How had he failed to notice the stolen glances, the hidden smiles, the bitter laughs she’d let out whenever Iwa would have a new girlfriend, new lover, new fling. 

Oikawa was a master of observation, yet he hadn’t been able to see the most obvious matter of all. He hadn’t been able to deduce that Y/N, his heart, was in love with the man he’d always wanted to be.

“I’m sorry, Tooru.” She sobbed, specks of scarlet splattering onto her white sweater, blossoms of primroses covering the hardwood floor. “I want to love you, I do! But I just can’t.”

“And I don’t think I ever will.”

The fits grew louder, cries and coughs forcing them into their own isolation. The two single lovers never having felt so alone in their entire lives, although there were merely three feet between them.

One step, one second was all it would take for Oikawa to reach her. Touch her, hold her as she broke down. It was his nature to want to help her, guide her to reach her goal and cheer her on when she’d present it in her hands.

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t help her find her own happiness if it meant that his would die forever. Love was meant to be shared, not selected through selfishness and greed.

So instead of sitting by her side, instead of doing the very thing that he’d promised he’d do for every second of their lives—Oikawa held back. He refused to mediate the situation, help her ease her pain.

His eyes dropped to the floor, the sight of his bloody shoes bringing him disgust and distaste. Red soaked into the soles of his feet, seeping into his skin, feeding the disease he’d been cursed with—the disease of love.

In the west, a primrose would denote an everlasting bond, that of warmth and unconditional feelings that would undoubtedly end in a diamond ring—but here, in his lonesome bedroom, the sakuraso didn’t mean any of that.

A happily ever after wasn’t in their future. The pages in their book had come to an end, the final chapter was upon them—and yet, Oikawa didn’t want to turn the page. He didn’t want to say goodbye.

Perhaps he’d love her forever. Perhaps he’d endure the pain for the entirety of his life, just so he’d have a memory of Y/N, a memory of the joy she’d once brought him.

Y/N was his unknown variable, the unexpected thing that he couldn’t predict—but the sakuraso? That was his constant, the blossom that he’d live with forever as his stubbornness was imminent. 

He’d choose the blood, the anguish, the familiar white petals every day if it meant that she was still there. No matter how she felt, who she loved, Oikawa would choose her. 

—after all, she was worth it right?

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