#i remember there was like ! one birthday where i really wanted to write letter to people | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lethalchiralium · 1 year

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I NEED A GHOST FANFIC WHERE WE FALL IN LOVE WITH GHOST AND WINNIE AND IT SHOWS THEIR RELATIONSHIP ABD MORE!!! OMG I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH 🫶🫶🫶🫶

Dear Winter | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: my first 2023 post! happy new year!!! thank you for requesting and being patient - this took a while lol. it might not be what you want but i literally could not NOT write this. it would be illegal.

song reference: Dear Winter by AJR

summary: Simon had to find a toy for Winnie, but discovers what finally pushes him over the edge to confess his love for you.

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Simon didn’t feel like he should’ve been searching in his attic for a mindless little toy that Winnie wanted. He had packed it away when he recognized that she didn’t like it anymore, but now it’s all she’ll talk about. The goddamn elephant that he bought at the hospital when she was born - it was before he was able to see her. It sang “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” and he put in a voice recording of himself saying, “I love you, Winnie.”

All Winnie ever wanted was the bear that Price had gotten her, the little green bear that did nothing but stare lifelessly. Now it was “I want Ellie, Daddy. I want Ellie!” all day and night, and his poor nanny was doing her best to keep Winnie entertained - which wasn’t enough, apparently.

He opened another plastic tub, placing the lid on the box beside it. It was full of Winnie’s baby clothes, ranging from frilly dresses to onesies. He dug through it, but still not seeing the pink elephant. He huffed in frustration, slamming the lid back on the tub and pulled it away, revealing another tub just like it.

This one was full of photos, which were of Winnie, him, and you specifically. Special milestones like when it was Winnie’s first steps, his eyes wide as he watched Winnie take her first steps. Or the picture in front of your family’s Christmas tree, the year he needed your help to figure out Christmas. Winnie sat on his shoulders and your arm around his back, his girls’ smiles large as his eyes were only visible from his cloth balaclava.

His girls.

His thumb swiped at your bubbly smile on the picture, a smile of his own now on his face.

He had fallen for you that Christmas. Spending more time with you than Winnie, since your three brothers kept the little one occupied for most of the trip. He had found you fascinating, you never pushed an answer from him, choosing to let him understand you first. He had very reluctantly allowed you to hug him, rest your head on his shoulder, and tried his best not to flinch when you grabbed his hand. That was two years ago - he was so far down the rabbit hole that he had convinced himself that you were just being friendly. He figured out later that you had a crush on him.

Simon sighed, beginning to move the large cluster of pictures out of the box and onto the floor when a folded piece of paper tumbled across the floor. He grunted in annoyance, dropping the pictures onto the spot next to him before stretching and reaching out for the paper, grasping it in his fingers. He was ready to toss it into the box when he looked back into it, only seeing old notebooks of his from when he was a kid. He thumbed the piece of paper, seeing a date that he remembered well.

If he was a little bit less tired of his daughter’s constant pleading for a toy he was very sure was in her room, he might have thrown the folded paper in the box again, shoving all of the picture on top of it. If he was a little more awake, he would’ve buried the paper at the bottom of the box - but it was something he had thought about for a few weeks.

It was an old assignment he had done in school as a teenager, on his 16th birthday when he used the last of his happiness and sanity to do the one assignment he really wanted to. Write a letter to someone in the future.

He tucked the piece of paper and the Christmas photo in his pocket, shoving the photos back in the box - he decided Winnie could wait another day for that stupid elephant. He slid the lid back on the tub and made his way back to the attic entrance. He quickly climbed down, pushing the ladder back up with one arm. It clicked into place and he turned away, making his way downstairs. He heard the thunderous footsteps of his daughter before she ran in front of him, her blanket tied around her shoulders as she held up her green bear. He watched her go by as she made the noise of an airplane, disappearing into the living room.

He looked back to where she came from, seeing a glimpse of you moving out of the playroom and into the front room. Simon then followed his daughter, walking into the living room as she then noisily made her way into the kitchen. He didn’t mind, he always hated noise but hearing his daughter have fun was an exception. Every noise his daughter made assured him that she was still alive, his worst fear was losing Winnie. He swiftly sat down on the couch, pulling out the folded piece of paper.

His fingers moved the flimsy paper to open, and it was like he was transported back in time.

Dear Winter,

I hope you like your name. I hope they don't make fun of you when you grow up and go to school, okay? 'Cause Winter is a badass name.

I hope you talk to girls or boys or anyone you like, I just hope you don't stay in every night. 'Cause I wish I was out tonight.

I hope you like your name. I'm hoping that someday, I can meet you on this earth.

I hope you like this letter. Even when you're thirteen and you scream at me for parenting you wrong.

I still hope you like your name. You know I cannot wait to teach you how to curse.

But Winter, please don’t move too far away. And please don't say I'm hovering when I call you to ask about your day.

I wanna hear about your day.

Will we still hang out and talk when I'm no longer in charge?

Winter, I hope you like your name. I hope you let me take a shot with you on your 21st.

He remembered writing this at a small park near his childhood home, turning it in the same day and hoping his teacher wouldn’t talk to him about it. He remembered forcing this piece of paper at the bottom of his bag when he got it back so his father wouldn’t see it, so his brother wouldn’t either and mock him. He had walked into his house, rushing through the hallway to the kitchen where his mother was humming.

“Mum,” He had said, she looked up from the food she was mixing in a bowl and smiled at him. He remembered how vibrant her dark blonde hair was, how his eyes matched hers - how her smile could instantly change his mood. He was a mama’s boy. “I got an A on my assignment.”

She set down her whisk and batted the flour off of her hands onto her apron, moved around the counter as he dug into his bag and handed her the folded paper.

Simon Riley would never forget how his mother had kneeled in front of him, held his hands and whispered, “I can’t wait to meet Winnie, I can’t wait for you to find someone who loves you even more than I do, Simon. You’ll be a good husband, a good father one day. You’ll always be better than him.” She had settled her hands on his face, wiping his tears as she said, “You’ll find her.”

He had planned to call his first daughter Winter, her name staying the same for a nickname. But, he now called his daughter, ‘Winnie’, so that it was like his mother was in his daughter’s life.

Dear Winter, I'm looking for your mom.

I gotta find a girl that doesn't mind that I'm inside my head a lot.

Winter, it won't be too long.

First, I just gotta find your mom.

“Simon.”

He looked up and locked eyes with you, seeing your wide smile as your hands settled on your hips.

“Did you find it?”

He didn’t register your words, he just gazed at you. He folded the letter that he had wrote when he was sixteen, the only thing he would’ve ever had hope for was love. That all his teenage self wanted, a family to love and be loved by.

Did you find it? You said.

He wanted to hand you that letter. He wanted you to read the most vulnerable thing he’s ever created - he knew he shouldn’t. But fuck, he wanted to. He shoved the letter into his pocket, and calmly spoke, “No.”

Your face fell, looking deep in thought before you said, “You checked everything up there? I could’ve sworn I went through her whole room…” You began to mumble to yourself as Simon held out his right hand towards you. You immediately stopped talking, gaze looking to his hand then to his masked face. “What?”

He turned his palm towards the ceiling, as if he was asking for your hand. You looked back down at his hand before placing yours on his large palm. He gently curled his fingers around your soft skin and pulled you towards him. You sort of stumbled forwards, your knees now hit the front of the couch and his thighs ghosted the side of yours. His other hand came to gently hold your empty one that was settled by your side.

He could feel your heartbeat quicken as his finger pressed into your wrist. His own heart was beating so fast that he thought he wouldn’t be able to go through with this.

Did you find it?

The picture of you three? Yes, and it made him pull the letter out again. He bit the inside of his cheek before placing it in your palm.

“What is this?” You curiously asked, he gestured for you to open it. He let go of you then, allowing you to read the letter.

His heart was in overdrive as he watched you read it, eyebrows sort of furrowed.

“You asked me if I found it. I didn’t find what Winter wanted, but what I wanted. Want.”

You read the last line and looked up at Ghost, gasping as you now saw his maskless face. His brown eyes watched yours trace his face, commit it to memory. And your right hand reached out, ghosting the skin of his cheek before his own hand pressed it down, his face leaned into your touch. You memorized every white scar, the way his lips curved, his jaw - he was beautiful.

“Tell me if I’m wrong.”

His hand pulled yours from his face, allowing his other hand to place a folded photo on your palm. You took it and opened it, staring at it.

It was the one Christmas that Simon and Winnie had spent with your family. You were looking up at Winnie as the little two year old sat on Simon’s shoulders. She was reaching for you, and then you looked at him in the picture. Even with the balaclava on and his face turned, you could clearly see that he was gazing at you.

Your gaze looked up to Simon again, still amazed at how beautiful he was. You knew him for almost four years, and this was the first time you have ever seen his face. Your heart skipped a few beats as his hand grazed your hip.

Your hand rested on his shoulder, he spoke again. “You. You are what I want.” His other hand settled on your waist, sort of coaxing you closer to him. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, resting his forehead against your stomach. Your hand moved from his shoulders to his dirty blond hair, you gazed down at it as he continued. “I didn’t always want to be a dad, I didn’t want to be after what happened to my family. But when Grace told me that she was pregnant, I ran. I ran away like a fuckin’ coward.” His arm moved from your hip up to hold the small of your back. “I…cared for her, I did. And when she died, I was surprised that I didn’t feel anything about it. Because I had to put all of my focus and strength in my daughter, the same thing you do while I’m gone.” He looked up at you now, his eyes meeting yours. “I care for you. And I can’t go a day without thinking of you.”

“Simon…”

“Please, tell me.” His hands pushed into your skin just a little more. “Tell me if I’m wrong and I will leave you be.”

You stared at him. You would have never expected any sort of confession from him, ever. He was the type to bottle everything up until he rots in a casket - not the type to say what he felt. And to be honest, your heart and stomach both fell from your body. You had pushed that ‘harmless’ crush all the way down into your soul, and here he comes- ripping layers of protection out of your heart and soul.

Your eyes darted to his lips then back up to his beautiful eyes, your thumb gently threaded across the short hair on the back of his head.

“Love me, Simon Riley.”

Oh Winter, I have already found your mom.

———

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x afab!reader #simon ghost riley cod #simon riley #simon riley x afab!reader #simon riley call of duty #simon riley mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #lethal chiralium #lethalchiralium

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

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I remember a while ago Steve wasn’t letting go of hope for his Mom showing up because he said she’s always late. Does he hit a point after that where he starts to admit maybe she isn’t coming? How does Eddie handle it?

@mcneen asked: Was there ever any further discussion between Steve and Eddie when Steve’s Mom didn’t show up, and Steve was like “oh she’s going to be late, she’s always been late”? I love love this series and check for more updates every day, thank you so much for writing it!

I’m going to kill two birds with one stone here since these two are asking for similar things

—

He always knew that she wasn’t coming.

He has known it every time he’s extended an olive branch just to watch it wilt and rot, and he knows that his friends and family think that he’s in denial about it. He knows that they have worriedly whispered conversations about him, but they don’t get it.

Yeah, it would be less heartbreaking to just give up but it wouldn’t be easier.

The Buckley’s are amazing parents that still send care packages to their daughter and call her every day for a month leading up to her birthday. Wayne took in his nephew when he didn’t have to and stood in defense of him against an entire town. Joyce – Jesus, Joyce Byers went to hell and back for her son. Hopper, Claudia, Sue, Karen… they’re all amazing parents, and you know what?

His mom was amazing once too.

And he knows. He knows. He knows. He knows how untrue that statement really is. He’s been in therapy long enough to know that he had a bad childhood and his parents were neglectful, but he cannot rectify that with the little boy inside him that loves his mom to pieces.

In the same way that he will always be sixteen years old and scared of the dead girl in his pool, he will always be small, waiting by the door for a mother that always eventually came home. Though, he knows.

He knows that seasons change and old injuries never heal quite right, and it never really mattered if his mother came home because she was always leaving but… But she was never outright cruel.

His father was a mean man that demanded perfection and belittled anything less than that. He was a unhappy man that fostered an atmosphere so hostile that his only son barely dared to breathe in his presence, and his mom. Well, it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t know how to be a mother.

But she was there. Sometimes as the silent observer, sometimes disinterested, but always the one to say, “Enough.”

“Enough,” she said after Barb’s disappearance, after the phone call from the police, after the lecture that turned physical. She stood between them with her hand pressed against her father’s chest and said, “That’s enough. Steven, go to your room.”

“Enough,” she said after the final rejection letter, after the job at his dad’s company was rescinded, after he was told to get a job or get out. “Enough, James. What is all this yelling going to do? It will not get him into college.”

“Enough,” she said after Steve stood his ground and took back nothing when he told them that Eddie was not just a friend, that he loved him and for the first time ever, it felt like someone loved him back. After the fighting, and the yelling, and being kicked out, she finally uttered, “Enough.”

About insurance.

His father stripped him line by line of everything he has always known, but insurance was where his mother drew the line. They all new that he would never be able to afford his medication without it and, “God forbid, he have a seizure and get another kid killed, Jay.”

The last conversation Steve had with his mother was at his father’s funeral. He said she looked well given the circumstances and she said that he should really do something about all that gray hair.

So, no. He’s not expecting her to show up. He never really is, but he wants it. He wants it so bad and it all kinda comes crashing down around him one evening after Eddie casually mentions that Wayne called earlier, “He said you’re getting better at speaking on camera.”

“What?”

Eddie explains that Wayne caught Steve’s interview about his YouTube math tutorials going viral. Steve asks how a man living in Florida manages to watch a local news broadcast from Illinois, and Eddie says that he looked it up online. Steve asks, “Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s proud of you,” Eddie says simply.

Something just cracks and the next thing either of them knows, Steve is crying. It’s kinda funny how wide Eddie’s eyes go, but Steve can’t even laugh about it because he feels like he’s going to drown inside himself.

It takes time and a lot of coaxing for Steve to get to a point where he tell Eddie that he’s sad. He just doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to do to make her want to see him. He doesn’t know what he did that was so wrong that she can’t forgive him and why – “Why can’t she just love me?”

Eddie tells him firmly, “Stevie, baby. I want you to listen very carefully to me, okay? I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life, okay?”

Steve nods.

“You did nothing wrong,” He says, and Steve just – he can’t believe it. He can’t believe that because then there’s nothing he can do to fix it and he – “Tell me this, Steve. Tell me what Erica Sinclair – Lady Applejack herself. Tell me what she has to do to make you consider cutting contact with her? What’s the least she’d have to do? Think about it an give me an answer, sweetheart.”

Steve things about it and eventually settles on, “Open the Upside Down on purpose.”

“Have you even opened a portal to a hell dimension on purpose then, babe?”

“Ed-“

“No, I want an answer,” Eddie says. “Have you ever purposely ripped a hole in the space-time continuum to an alternate reality?”

“No.”

“You ever do something worse than that?”

“I- no? Eddie-“

“Then it sounds like the problem is with your mom and not you,” He answers. “It sounds like she needs to get over her own fucking issues, and I know. I know that fucking sucks, Steve, but you cannot spend the rest of your life blaming yourself for her unwillingness to grow as a person.”

Eddie wipes the tears from his face and kiss the tip of his nose, and Steve admits, “I’m still sad.”

“I know, baby,” Eddie tells him. “That’s okay.”

Steve doesn’t know how much time lingers between them in silence, just that he’s tired the way he always is after he cries a lot. He’s about to tell him that he’s going to go to bed when Eddie states, “Joyce still lives in Hawkins, right? I’m gonna call her and see if she’ll beat your mom up.”

#this is rambly and I don’t even know if it makes sense #I do know that Joyce Byers would fight Steve’s mom on his behalf #also I went with Erica because I think Dustin is more like a little brother to Steve and he would see Erica as more of his kid #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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peanutpinet · 6 months

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hihi!! really love the mini nct-mafia universe that you’ve created 🥹 i was hoping if you could write jaemin next..i was thinking of jaemin being a little cold to others but only soft towards y/n (and of course jeno)..i’ll leave the plot up to you but i thought it’ll be cute if there’s a scene where y/n helps to undress jaemin to take care of him..so like angst/fluff/suggestive all blended in one! thank you and i’m sorry if it’s so specific 🥲🥲

Trauma - Mafia! Na Jaemin x Innocent! Fem Reader

A/N: Hi anon!! Thank you for requesting the fic! I actually was already planning to write for mafia Jaemin and since you requested him as well, it motivated me even more to write!

Also, apologies if I took way too long and if the story isn't how you actually want it to go but I do hope that you enjoy it as much as I wrote it. There are lots of heavy trigger warnings that you have to pay attention to!

Trigger Warning: trauma experience, character death (not MC), grief, revenge, murder, blood loss, torture (excessive), explosion. -> I'm sorry if this isn't all but I will try to update it in case I missed anything

Synopsis: Being the son of the famous Nam Goongmin came with a heavy price to pay for Jaemin. Though Taeyong managed to get Jaemin out of his father’s mafia business and helped him to heal, there was still some trauma that Jaemin had yet to face. Until he came across a girl that he would soon learn that he can't always run from his problems

Water to Fire. Winter to Spring. Sunshine to Rain. They were all opposites of each other yet people kept on saying that opposites then to attract one another. Jaemin had never believed such things until he saw his parents. His father was the ruthless mafia whereas his mother was a kindhearted school teacher. Despite their contradicting characteristics, they were like magnets and attracted each other in a good way just like sunshine and rain coming together to create a rainbow.

Though Jaemin knew that his father didn’t have the best job, being one of the most feared mafia in South Korea before NCT became a thing was a reputation that Jaemin had to live for years until his mother passed away; and not in a peaceful way.

Jaemin knew that with the amount of power and wealth his father had, came all the enemies as well. Enemies who either wanted his father dead for hundreds of different reasons. Murder. Fraud. Stealing. Jaemin didn’t know how far his father was in crime because his mother made sure that he wouldn’t have to see his father at one of the most gruesome scenes that might as well come from the action/thriller drama that he watched.

Sadly, those moments were all but just memories to Jaemin. Everything happened as quickly as his memories could remember. One sunny morning, the day before Jaemin’s 18th birthday, he was going off to school and the same evening he went back home, it started raining but he still went home smiling knowing that he got a perfect score on his biology test, a recommendation letter from all of his science teacher and that his mom promised that they would bake today.

But when he arrived at the front door, Jaemin knew that something was wrong. Quietly, Jaemin took off his shoes and took the nearest thing that he could use as a weapon and went in. Though Jaemin was sheltered from the gruesome life of his father, the old man actually taught him every self-defence technique he knew. From hand-to-hand combat to even using a gun, Jaemin knew it all. But what his father had not taught him was how to cope with his feelings or a life that he took with his own hands.

That day will forever haunt Jaemin’s memory as the day of his first kill, the day of his mother’s death, and the day that he knew that he was his father’s son. When Jaemin’s father came home that night, he was just as distraught as his son. Both instantly mourn the loss of their beloved wife and mother. It was the first time that Jaemin’s dad actually let Jaemin into the horrifying world that he lived in.

Out for revenge, Jaemin had no mercy for anyone who would prevent him or his father from getting back at the one who took the light out of their dark thoughts. But even when Jaemin finally got a taste of revenge. It didn’t satisfy him and instead, he quickly realised his actions before it was too late.

His mother taught him better. His mother always taught him to never hate anyone as most people who do evil things were also once good. So Jaemin did what he could do. Run. Jaemin ran away from all his dark side; his father.

Jaemin knew that no matter how far or fast he ran, his father would always find him. But it seemed that his mother must’ve sent some guardian angels because right as Jaemin was cornered by some of his father’s most trusted men, some other men came and saved Jaemin, killing his father’s men in the process.

It was that day did Jaemin joined Taeyong into NCT and became one of the core members of NCT. But unlike the other members who also have daytime jobs, Jaemin prefers to just stay at the base and stand by whilst studying medicine with Kun. Though Taeyong still forces Jaemin to go follow Jeno along because Jeno was one of the only members that Jaemin talks to and eventually Jeno manages to convince Jaemin to at least intern and later work in NCT’s hospital under Kun on the early morning of weekdays.

For the most part of Jaemin’s life in NCT, not once did he ever complain. Not once did Jaemin want something more like his friend Jeno who is a famous racer. Not once did Jaemin ever go against NCT’s leader, Taeyong, like sometimes Haechan did. Though Jaemin has become more social than his first year in NCT, Taeyong has yet to completely understand Jaemin.

In reality, Jaemin stayed with NCT because he hoped that one day if he were to have to face his father again, he would face him without being scared. After years of being with NCT and even becoming a surgeon in Neo Hospital under Kun, Jaemin slowly finds a new routine and he slowly finds that by helping other people, it relieves a part of him that remembers all the bad things his father had done towards multiple innocent people.

As days passed, Jaemin has slowly forgotten about meeting his father again. Instead, Jaemin wants to avoid having to meet his father ever again if it were possible. Jaemin was content with the life he has now and wants to continue to just live his life without the constant worry of having to deal with his father or the mess he made; at least, until a recent patient that he had to deal with.

It was in the middle of a weekend night, right when Taeyong suddenly dismissed him and told Jaemin to just go back home despite Taeyong just finished torturing a guy who kidnapped the intern for Neo-Tech and helped build the Satellite tracker.

But right as Jaemin was about to go back to his place, Jeno suddenly called him and said that there was a sudden accident right when he and his girlfriend were on their way home and some weird men were chasing an injured girl.

“I got no idea why they were chasing them but I figured to call you not only to help the girl but I also feel that you should know. Those weird men mentioned that they were under your father’s name” Jeno mentioned, making Jaemin stop in his tracks

“I’m on my way. I’ll call the nurse to handle it before I get there. Just drive to the emergency entrance” Jaemin replied, turning off his call with Jeno, going into his car and rushing to the hospital

Along the way, Jaemin called the nurse in his hospital and told them to go to the emergency room and help a girl that Jeno was bringing. Jaemin also told the nurse to ask for Kun to help before he arrived there.

Within minutes, Jaemin arrived at the hospital and immediately went to get changed and head to the surgery room. Before going in, Jaemin saw Jeno who was bloody with his girlfriend sitting by the entrance. “Jaem…” Jeno called out to his friend who was just about to head into the surgery room.

“You should take her home. I can handle it here” Jaemin replied but Jeno seemed hesitant. “Your girlfriend is practically asleep, Jen. You’re also covered with blood. Plus I’m not alone. Kun-hyung is here. Go” Jaemin reassured Jeno who stood up, carrying his sleeping girlfriend

“Call me if anything happens. I’m not just a member. I’m your friend, too” Jeno mentioned before Jaemin went into the surgery room

In the surgery room, Jaemin apologised to Kun for being late but Kun didn’t question him. “I’ll question you after the surgery. Jeno came in here bloody and said that you wouldn’t want anyone outside of NCT to know about this” Kun mentioned

“Probably for the best” Jaemin replied and immediately got to work with Kun

Because Jeno managed to stop the bleeding by using a cloth and putting pressure on it, Jaemin and Kun managed to stitch up the girl with no problem. But aside from the deep wound, Jaemin noticed that the girl also had several bruises all over her body, a cut lip, and even a few fractured bones.

After moving the girl into a secluded patient room, Kun and Jaemin went into Kun’s office where Kun made a cup of warm tea before getting into the talk. “I won’t tell Taeyong if you don’t want me to” Kun reassured Jaemin who has been quiet since the surgery

“She’s related to my father” Jaemin mentioned, making Kun stop drinking his drink and look at the younger one. “Not in a way that you would think. Jeno said that she was being chased by some men. When Jeno got to her, she was already bruised and everything. Jeno thought that he was just helping someone but didn’t realise until too late that the men were working for my father” Jaemin explained

“You know. You’re not really obligated to actually find out about her or her relationship with your father if you don’t want to. You can always just ignore her and think that you never met her” Kun mentioned. “I’m not saying that you should run away from your problems but…” Kun added but Jaemin stopped him

“I know that someday I’m going to have to face him again after all these years. If so, I might as well get it over with. Thanks hyung, but I’m going to try and find out and maybe face my father. All I ask is to not tell Taeyong-hyung about it until I’m sure that she truly has something to do with my father” Jaemin mentioned, leaving Kun to see the girl

Jaemin’s POV

Reaching the girl’s room, I went in and received an overview of her profile from Haechan. “You owe me big. Taeyong-hyung almost caught me for this”. Going over her profile, I noticed that the girl, (y/n) has gone through a rough childhood.

“3 different foster homes in the span of 20 years?! Geez. Either she was trouble or those foster homes are actually as shitty as I know” I thought to myself, glancing over (y/n) who was sweating and whimpering.

Turning off the screen to my tab, I walked closer. Grabbing a soft cloth, I started to wipe the sweat that was building up on her forehead until I was close enough to hear her whimpers.

“p-please…” (y/n) whimpered. “leave my mom alone. Let me go” (y/n) suddenly screamed, jolting from the bed

“Hey, hey, no one is going to hurt you” I mentioned, looking at (y/n) who was now sitting, her chest was going up and down faster than normal

“You’re alright but I would suggest you to rest again. Let’s put you to sleep again” I mentioned, coming closer but she flinched when my hand was just reaching her shoulders

Sighing, I pulled my hands away and tucked them into my pockets. “Look. I’m a doctor here. I’m not going to hurt you or anything. If I was going to hurt you, I’d done it already” I bluntly mentioned as (y/n) just eyed me from top to bottom

“Jaemin…” she read my nametag. “You look like him. I, I thought…” (y/n) finally said a sentence

“Who? Who do I look like? What were you thinking if I look like someone?” I asked but (y/n) didn’t utter another word. “Do I look like Nam Goongmin?” I asked, the name felt foreign that my voice cracked a bit but luckily, I got some kind of answer as (y/n) nodded

“You’ve met him before” I mentioned. It wasn’t a question

Another nod which made my next sigh rougher than the previous one. “Look, if you have anything to say to me regarding him, just tell me. Or if you know about him. Or if you’re involved with him. I’m not a mind reader” I rambled

“He mentioned your name before” (y/n) finally said something again but I didn’t cut her off. I wanted her to keep talking. “He mentioned that I reminded him of his son. How I wasn’t considerate and thankful that he helped me find a foster home b-but…” (y/n) started to cry

“He helped you look for a foster home? But why? Sorry for being blunt but I doubt that he would let himself get involved with someone like you unless you or someone you know is involved with him” I mentioned

“H-he, he killed my dad and then my mom. He killed them because they worked for him but eventually cut ties with him” (y/n) cried, probably remembering the dark times she had to face

“What do you remember?” I asked, handing a clean cloth for her to wipe her tears

“My dad was his colleague. He helped supply the things that Nam Goongmin couldn’t easily get his hands on. But when I reached a certain age, my dad just cut ties with him” (y/n) added

“Were you home when your parents were killed?” I asked and (y/n) nodded

“My parents hid me, along with files of Nam Goongmin. Files that if they were to be released to the public, would ruin everything that he had built” (y/n) replied, perking up my interest

“When was the last time you saw him?” I asked, wanting to know more

“Months ago. He found me while I was working at a convenience store late at night. I didn’t know who he was at first until he brought up my parents’ name” (y/n) replied. “At first, he didn’t ask the files. He just told me about his history with my dad which honestly shocked me. I was so scared that he would do something to me but instead, he just left”

“But you mentioned that you were in foster homes? Did you run away?” I asked

“Ever since my parents passed away, which was when I was 14, I was put in an adoption center but turns out I was put into foster homes. At first, I didn’t notice anything strange until one night in my first foster home, I heard him again. I ran away after finding out. I was then put into another foster home at 15 but it was the same thing. I found out they were associated with him and ran away. The last one was the most brutal one. They didn’t sugarcoat anything and I was treated like a slave until I told them where I hid the file. When I saw a chance, I ran away once again. I managed to hide from them for the past 2 years because I ran away by the time I reached 18 years old and started working part-time in a few places. Up until now at least” (y/n) ended her story

“So, where did you actually hide the files then?” I asked as (y/n) just looked at me

“Don’t you think it’s only fair that I ask you after explaining to you, not knowing if I can trust you or not” (y/n) mentioned

“Nam Goongmin…he’s my father” I mentioned, shocking (y/n)

The next morning rolled around quicker than I wanted. I ended up not going back home and stayed in (y/n)’s room since I was the one who booked her the VIP room. While (y/n) was sleeping, I checked on all the files that Haechan sent me just to double-check her background because she could be lying and actually working with my father.

Jeno came along with Renjun and Haechan, bringing something for me to eat which I realised that I hadn’t eaten anything since the surgery the other night. The four of us sat in my office as I told them about what happened the other night.

“So her story and what Haechan sent you checked out? She’s not lying?” Renjun asked, munching on the burger that he bought upon coming to the hospital

“As far as I read the background. Yeah. Unless you have something else up your sleeve, Haechan?” I asked, looking over to him who was stuffing his face with french fries

“That’s all I found. And I’ve used the big bois. Perks of having parents that used to be in the mafia I supposed. Can manipulate what information would be put out there well until they were dead at least” Haechan shrugged

“What are you planning to do then, Jaem? I mean, you used to say that you don’t want to get involved with your dad ever again. What changed?” Jeno asked but I too didn’t quite have the answer yet

“Part of me doesn’t like the idea of what dad has become. Regardless, he was still my father and he honestly raised me well. He was there for my childhood. It was truly like he wanted me in his life. But when my mom was killed, guess that’s when he went haywire and made a killing spree. I want him to atone for what he did. Killing innocent people is wrong and he had never done it until my mom passed away” I mentioned

“So, you want to put him behind bars?” Haechan asked

“It’s more complicated…” I mumbled when a knock was heard. “Who is it?” I asked, standing from my seat, eyeing my members who suddenly went serious mode

“Dr Na, your patient is here to see you” the nurse exclaimed, making my members sigh of relief

“Yes, of course. Just bring her in” I mentioned and the nurse brought (y/n) on a wheelchair into my office. “I’ll handle it from here, you can leave” I told the nurse

“So this is the famous (y/n)” Haechan smirked while I instantly eyed him, helping (y/n) into my office

“Ignore him, he’s always that playful. I’m Renjun, that’s Jeno over there” Renjun mentioned, giving a smile at (y/n). The same goes for Jeno

“You’re the one that helped me!” (y/n) exclaimed as Jeno nodded. “That would be me. I’m glad that you’re alright now. Also, I know Jaemin might seem cold and unapproachable but he’s pretty nice” Jeno mentioned, making me groan

“I never got to thank you. Thank you, for saving me. If you hadn’t, I would’ve…” (y/n) rambled but Jeno shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Thank Jaemin as well for saving you. I just helped a bit. He’s the saviour here. I mean, he’s dubbed the miracle doctor here because the amount of times Jaemin has been able to save people who are in critical condition is crazy” Jeno mentioned, which honestly made me flustered

“I think I’m just lucky this time, to be able to meet kind people to help me” (y/n) shyly stated

“It’s not luck. No one deserves to die honestly. Anyways, you can trust my friends here. They, they know about my history with my father” I stated. “You can tell us where you hid the files and we’ll help retrieve them. I promise that there’s nothing to worry about. You’re completely safe here” I added on, making (y/n) smiled

“Thank you” (y/n) uttered. “But I’m sorry that this might seem like I’m asking a lot but actually, I hid it at my old house. The one where I used to live with my parents. I figure that it would be the best place to hide it since Nam Goongmin wouldn’t think to look at an old abandoned house where he killed people that he probably don’t remember” (y/n) explained and I looked over at Haechan who was still stuffing his face with food but his face was serious as he was typing away on his computer

“Is this the house?” Haechan asked, showing us all his laptop that showed a house. “Y-yeah, how did you?” (y/n) asked but Haechan shrugged. “It’s one of my many talents”

“Alright then, we should leave tonight. It’ll be easier so we won’t be seen” Jeno pointed out and the others started to pack their things. “I’ll also fill in Yangyang and Shotaro on our plan so that they could help with the file. Haechan, you, Renjun and Shotaro should prepare on the equipment we need. I’ll ask Yangyang for a vehicle and…” Jeno added but (y/n) cut him off

“Is, is it alright if I come along? I mean. I’m the one that knows where it’s hidden. Plus. I, I want to get something from the house” (y/n) asked

“Honestly, I don’t think it would be the best idea for you to come. You’re still injured and…” Jeno replied

“I just want to get my old family photobook. I promise that’s it” (y/n) argued

“I think it’s alright if she goes. We’ll all be there and I’ll keep a watch on her and then get her out as soon as she gets her photobook” I added on, making Jeno sigh

“Fine. But we have to move quickly. Taeyong-hyung doesn’t know about this and even if he does, we have to be fast, alright?” Jeno stated and everyone nodded

After the short meeting, I brought (y/n) back to her room, making her rest up a bit more while I went back to my office and changed into my nightwear mission gear and taking the female clothes I asked someone to buy for me to (y/n)’s room; telling her to change while we wait for Jeno to come.

“Just asking. How long have you been doing this?” I heard (y/n) asked

“For a few years. I was found by my now leader at 18 and ever since I was taken in, was taught everything I know and was given the opportunity to be something that I’ve always wanted as a kid” I told her, remembering the early days when Taeyong-hyung and Jeno first found me

“Do, do you guys like, I don’t know, kill people? Sell drugs or human trafficking?” (y/n) asked, making me chuckle at her thought. “Wh-why are you laughing? Is this all just a trick and you’re actually working with…” (y/n) rambled but I stopped her before she could say that man’s name

“No. We’re not like him. Not every mafia is bad. At least not us. I used to think the same until my leader brought me in. We’re considered a mafia group because we deal with other dirty crime organizations through some illegal methods which to the public, it might seem wrong but basically, we help the government do more of the dirty work. But we never went as far as killing. Torture? Yes. I’ll tell you that upfront. Especially to those who betray us” I explained, looking at (y/n) who looked nervous

“Don’t worry. As long as you’re not involved with the people in our wanted list, there’s nothing to worry about. Are you ready to go?” I asked as (y/n) slowly nodded

“Alright, come with me then” I mentioned, nudging (y/n) to walk right beside me. “Whatever happens there, I’ll be by your side and I expect you to do the same. Don’t walk ahead, don’t walk behind. I have to make sure that nothing happens to you, got it?” I stated as we walked into the private elevator and (y/n) nodded

Arriving at (y/n)’s house, Jeno told Haechan, Renjun and Shotaro to stay hidden as he, Yangyang, (y/n) and I go into the house and find the files along with the photobook that (y/n) wanted. Because (y/n) was the only one who knew where both the items were, we stuck close to her, practically forming a human wall around her to make sure that there weren’t any threats.

“Haechan, any sign of anyone nearby?” Jeno asked. “Nope. It’s all clear. Unless you count some stray cats nearby which they’re very big and chubby” Haechan joked

“Jaem, you accompany (y/n). Yangyang and I will stay downstairs, just in case. Once you’ve gotten the files, toss it to me and I’ll have Yangyang hand it to Haechan and the others, kay?” Jeno instructed and I nodded in acknowledgement

(y/n) and I went upstairs, and I noticed from some of the ripped, broken images that (y/n) seemed to be an only child and that there weren’t really any other family members except for her parents. “D-do you not have any like uncles or aunts to take you in at the time?” I asked as (y/n) rummage around a room that seems to be a master bedroom based on the size and linked bathroom

“Unfortunately, no. As far as I know, my parents are both only childs and even if there were, I doubt they want to take a burden in” (y/n) chuckled dryly, making me feel bad for asking

“I’m sorry to hear that but you should know that no one is a burden. Especially those under 18. You didn’t ask to be born. None of us asked for it and you shouldn’t push yourself because of what happened. This universe might’ve fucked up some things in everyone’s life but the moment you’re given just one chance to change your fate, take it. Exploit it if you can as long as you hurt no one. You deserve to enjoy your life” I stated, trying to cheer (y/n) up

“You know, I lived my life in uncertainty and everything changed with my mom was killed and I thought that this universe hated me until my now leader and Jeno found me. They gave me a new life and I’m doing much better now. Why don’t you come with us when all of this is over?” I offered, catching (y/n)’s attention

“I doubt that you guys would want me. I don’t even know what I’m good at” (y/n) replied, her voice became much softer than before

“Don’t worry about that. Everyone doesn’t know what they’re good at because they just simply were never given the chance to. But I promise you that as stone-cold as some of my members are, they are all caring for each other and would always help one another. Just consider it. And if you decided you want to, I’ll talk with my leader about it” I replied, offering (y/n) a smile, making her smile back

“T-thank you, Jaemin. Really. No one has ever offered me this far” (y/n) mentioned, making me frown

“That’s probably because they don’t understand the pain you go through; especially after losing your parents. Let’s hurry and find the file and your photobook then we can continue this conversation” I stated as (y/n) nodded

(y/n) quickly scrambled to the bed of the room and went underneath the covers, ripping it and taking something out of the mattress which turns out to be the USB. “Is that the files?” I asked as (y/n) nodded. “Yeah, I kept it here because this room and bed reminded me about my parents. How I would crawl into their room in the middle of the night because of nightmares when I was younger. And eventually sleep between them” (y/n) replied, making me smile

“Can I take the USB from you? I promise that my members and I will bring justice to your parents and all the innocent people whose life were ruined by Nam Goongmin” I stated, extending my hand as (y/n) handed the USB over

“Jen, I got it. We’re upstairs in the master bedroom. (y/n) is looking for the photobook” I stated in my earcom. “I’m going up” Jeno replied

Jeno then came within seconds and took the USB. Jeno told me to take care of (y/n) while he went to Haechan and handed the USB over to check the files before going back to the base. I told Jeno that he and Yangyang could just go with the others because (y/n) and I were only finding the photobook.

Despite being unsure of my request, Jeno eventually compiled and told me that if anything were to happen, I should just call him or the base; regardless of whether Taeyong-hyung knows or not. Because in the end, whether I like it or not, I will have to tell Taeyong-hyung about this.

After Jeno left, I continued to help (y/n) find the photobook she was looking for. We eventually turned the already messed up house into basically a destroyed ship. But luckily, we managed to find the photobook that (y/n) was looking and I instantly told the others that we were done and were going to head back to my place.

As we went downstairs, I suddenly heard a clock ticking. I looked around and saw an old grandfather clock that was ticking. Which was strange because I swore that when we all went into the house, the only noise that could be heard were our voices, the sounds of our shoes on the old hardwood floor, and even our breathing. But not once did I hear any ticking noise.

Not wanting to find out, I quickly wrapped an arm around (y/n) and dragged her out of the house. But before we could get out, the clock struck 3 am and instantly, everything became a blur. One moment I was reaching the door handle to open the door and the next, I was having a hard time breathing and was lying on my back.

Blinking several times, I tried to regain my vision after almost blacking out but everything was still a blur. My nose smelled some smoke and as I used my hands to try to get me up, I noticed that the house behind me was in flames.

Regardless of my weak state, I called out to (y/n) and tried to scan my surroundings with whatever vision I had but I felt everything spinning around and was suddenly met with a fist on my cheek; making me fall to the ground and cough up blood.

Suddenly, I felt two people holding each of my arms respectively as I was now kneeling on the ground. I tried to fight them off but knowing my weak state from the sudden explosion, I couldn’t do anything. But what caught me off-guard was the person who walked and stood right in front of me. The man who made me have my first kill, the man who I thought was good because of how he loved my mother, the man who shared the same DNA as I did. My father, Nam Goongmin.

“I thought I told you manners on how to greet your elderly, Na Jaemin” my father chuckled, grabbing a chunk of my hair, roughly pulling my head back, making me look at him

Even though my vision was still blurry, I could recognize that tone and sinister smirk from anywhere. “You don’t deserve any manners or respect from me” I coughed up, spitting some blood that landed on my father’s suit and face

“You still haven’t changed, have you? A doctor now are you?” my father stated, not really asking me

“W-was the least I could do, after what you’ve done. You can try to kill as many innocent people but I’ll be the one that’ll save them” I argued back, my father roughly letting my hair go

“Oh, you might want to save that breath of yours because you’re going to need it” my father uttered, I could feel his breath by my ear. “You and your little gang have something that I’ve been looking for years” my father whispered as I turned to eye him

“Let’s test how eager you are to save a life, shall we? That troublesome girl will be your time limit. Right now, she’s practically as injured as you are. The difference is. You’re going to be rescued by your little team while she gets to hang out with me” my father stated, making me try to release the grip of his men

“With every second you don’t come back, I’m going to draw her blood out of her. Slowly. With each day passing and you do not give me back those files, I’ll have to find out which organ I want to sell to the black market first. And if those files ever get released to the public? I’ll give you a little present. For all the years that I’ve been gone from your life” my father stated when suddenly I was injected with a sleeping drug and the grip on each of my arms were gone as I drifted off to sleep, and my body unconsciously fell to the ground with the thought of (y/n) in my mind

NCT Base - 8:25 pm (still Jaemin’s POV)

The sound of a beeping monitor slowly matched with the beat of my heart as I slowly woke up from my slumber for who knows how long. When I opened my eyes and slowly scanned the room, I noticed that I was in the patient room back in the base.

When I closed my eyes again, I remembered my father’s threat and immediately jerked on the bed. “Shit Jaemin, are you okay?! Let me get Kun-hyung” I heard Jeno stated but I managed to grip his wrist. “How long was I out?” I asked

“About more than 12 hours. Not long after we left, I felt something was off. I tried to contact you through our earcom but it was muffled. I told Haechan to just go while I drove one of our emergency borrowed cars and went back to the house. By the time I arrived, the house was in flames and you passed out on the ground, bruises and blood everywhere. But I didn’t see (y/n) at all” Jeno explained

“Shit. My dad. H-he caused the explosion. He knew that we would go to the house. He knew that (y/n) must’ve hid the files there and would have to retrieve it. Where’s the files right now?” I asked, trying to get out of bed but Jeno stopped me

“Woah. I know that your dad is insane and we should save (y/n) but you’re injured pretty badly right now. You gotta rest. Especially since you have to face…” Jeno ranted but we heard several footsteps coming into the room

“Is he awake?!” both Jeno and I heard Taeyong-hyung’s voice and suddenly the door was slammed open and Taeyong-hyung along with Kun, Mark, and Doyoung came in

“Tell me why the hell is there a 150ml of blood bag with your fucking name on it arrived at the hospital when the blood is clearly not yours?!” Taeyong-hyung demanded, showing me the blood bag

“Shit. He’s actually serious. Fuck. Hyung, where’s the files?” I asked back but Taeyong-hyung didn’t budge. “Who is he, Jaemin?! You’re my member. My core member. And Kun received this right as he finished handling another patient. So no, Jaemin, I won’t let you know anything about the files until you explain yourself” Taeyong-hyung growled and I was trying to put together some words to not make the situation worse

“He’s back isn’t he?” Taeyong-hyung stated, sending chills as I remembered the incident

“He’s after the files, isn’t he, Jaemin?” Taeyong-hyung asked as I slowly nodded. “Everyone but Jeno, out” Taeyong-hyung stated as the others left the room but Jeno. “You know something as well, Jeno. I’ll deal with the other 00 boys later” Taeyong-hyung added

“Tell me everything, Jaemin. What happened, how did you get those files, whose blood is this and what did Nam Goongmin threaten you” Taeyong demanded and I told him everything that had happened. From when Jeno brought (y/n) to the hospital to going to her house and even facing my father on my own

“I know meeting him would not end well but this?! This is out of my prediction” Taeyong-hyung grunted, messing up his hair before slicking it back again

“We can’t release the files. (y/n) would be instantly killed” I argued

“I know that. But we need to find where your father is first which Jungwoo is already in the process of finding through the satellite tracker. In the meantime, Haechan already duplicated the files and we’ll hand the original file back” Taeyong-hyung mentioned

“You figured it out when I was passed out, didn’t you, hyung?” I asked back when Taeyong-hyung explained on the current situation he’s handling which always amazed me

“I keep tabs on my members. I know about your father coming to find you because that was the reason why he sent someone to kidnap the intern under Jungwoo. But I wouldn’t expect another person outside of NCT to be involved. Guess I should’ve expected it since it already happened with Jeno and Haechan” Taeyong-hyung chuckled

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to worry you. I also didn’t expect my father to have everything figured out and was basically a step ahead of me” I grunted

“Jaemin. Whether you like it or not, your dad was in the mafia way before me and the other oldest members in the group. He might be out of touch with the current generation unlike us, but he always has that sinister, manipulative mind that somehow always manages to turn the situation around. No matter what, your dad is not someone we can take on lightly like Jeno or Haechan’s situation” Taeyong-hyung stated when suddenly we heard a knock on the door, revealing to be Jungwoo

“Hyung. I found him” Jungwoo-hyung stated and Taeyong-hyung told him to come and show us

Jungwoo-hyung came in and showed the exact location of where my father was and it turns out, he was back at my old house. The house that I abandoned since my mother was killed. “Of course he would be there” I growled

“That’s not all, Jaemin. As I found him, there was a sudden file that was delivered to me. I didn’t want to open it until I see Taeyong-hyung” Jungwoo-hyung mentioned, showing us the mystery file that he received

“Open it, Jungwoo” Taeyong-hyung mentioned and upon opening the file, I could feel my stomach twist and nearly puke upon seeing the file because it was a video of (y/n) who was unconscious and tied to a bed, getting her blood slowly drawn out and a figure coming behind her and slowly picking up a scalpel before the video went black, showing several numbers.

“Hyung…” I grunted, Jeno taking a bucket and shoving it towards me. “Go ahead, no one is going to judge you” Jeno tried to joke

“It’s a countdown” Taeyong-hyung stated. “Looks like your dad still isn’t a patient man. Are you okay to go?” Taeyong-hyung asked

“I have to. I’m not letting him kill another innocent person. Not when I can actually do something about it. I failed to protect my mom and spent the past few years to try and atone for what my father has done. I’m not going to sit this one out just because I have a few bruises and injuries” I stated, getting up from my bed

“It’ll most likely be a trap. Your dad would instantly kill her upon seeing the rest of us but if you go alone, there’s no telling what will happen. Your dad could have mercy on you but not on the girl or he might be very merciful and spare both of you. Either way, I won’t sit tight and let you handle everything alone, alright?” Taeyong-hyung stated, patting my shoulder

Jaemin’s Old House - 1:38 am

Right as my car came to a stop, I took a deep breath before walking out and facing the very problem that I’ve been running away from for the past 6 years of my life. As I slowly opened the door, memories of what used to be a happy childhood slowly flooded back but this time with the smell of dirt, trash, and even blood mixed in.

Standing by the door, I was met with multiple other men with their guns all loaded, pointing at me as I looked up at my father who was standing on the 2nd floor, looking as sharp as I remembered him from the day when I last saw him. The last day that I ever agreed to do anything with him. To get revenge on my dead mother.

“I’m assuming you come here with what I requested?” my father asked and I pulled the USB from the inner corner of my jacket, raising it up to show him

“All the files about you. About what you’ve done. About every corrupted person you have helped. Every innocent person you have killed. Every track of your dirty money in and out. Every weapon and drug you own and sell. They’re all in here” I stated, none of my father’s men lowered their weapons

“Hand over the USB and put down every weapon you have” my father instructed me. “Search him just in case” my father added

I handed the USB to one of his men as I took out my guns, knife, pepper spray, and every other weapon I had in hand. Two of his men held me by the arm and another searched me completely before taking away all of my weapons, telling my father that I was already clean.

His men who took the USB went upstairs and handed it to my father. My father then took it and plugged it into the laptop to check every single file personally. “You really have turned soft, haven’t you, Jaemin? All this information for just a girl?” my father questioned

“Just a girl? You killed her parents. She didn’t deserve to continue her life like that. She had no one. No one deserves to live like that. Just because you were like that, doesn’t mean someone else should” I argued back and without warning, my father fired a bullet that grazed my cheek

“Know your place, boy. Remember it was me that helped bring you to this world. Without me, you wouldn’t be alive or breathing right now. Her father wasn’t as innocent if she ever told you the truth, that is. His father was associated with me as in they were the ones that sourced all the weapons and drugs that I sell. So, regardless, they weren’t all that good” my father argued back as well

“Doesn’t mean you should kill them. No one deserves to be killed” I stated but what my father said next hit me more than a bullet would. “Yet your mother was killed”

“If you recall, your mother was murdered, Na Jaemin. She didn’t die due to some illness or of old age. She was murdered cold-blooded. She did nothing wrong yet she was still murdered. You’re only partially right. Not everyone deserves to be killed. Some do” my father stated.

“As shitty as some people are, including you, no one still deserves to be killed” I stood my argument

“You sure about that? Don’t you remember the time when you practically forced yourself to come with me to find your mother’s killer? That you wanted to pull the trigger yourself. Yet, it didn’t satisfy you enough, did it? If anything, you’ve always been a coward. I taught you everything. Yet, you never dared to go above and beyond” my father complained

“My mother never taught me to do anything bad. Plus, she was the reason why you were also soft at some point in your life. She would be disappointed with how you’ve changed. At least I’m trying to atone for what you and I did” I taunted, making my father’s demeanour change. His gaze got darker and scarier.

“Don’t talk about her as if you know about our history. As if you understand what it feels like to have someone part of you being ripped away after all that you’ve been through to change for them” my father admitted; a side of him that I didn’t really know of

“Who says?! My mother is a part of me. Heck, 50% of my DNA is from her. She was my number one supporter and she was my everything. The first woman I love. You and I are the same in terms of looks, some of our traits, and our love for the same woman. The big difference is how we cope with that loss” I mentioned. “As much as I hate the man you’ve become, it saddens me more because no matter what, you’re still my father. So stop this nonsense and just turn yourself in” I tried to reason but instead, my father let out a rather maniac laugh

“There’s another difference between you and I. Your mother might be your first love. But she’s my first and last. Like you said, my parents weren’t really there for me and when I met your mother, that’s when I actually knew what love actually is. Until she was murdered that is. So, Na Jaemin. You want to understand what it feels like to go through what I went through? Let me show you then” my father stated, confusing me

My father went into one of the rooms and not long after, he came back, dragging a way smaller yet weak figure than him to his side which made my whole body shudder as I saw (y/n)’s paled and injured face was being held between one of my father’s hand.

“You said that you wouldn’t hurt her if I gave you the files” I growled, punching and kicking both men who were holding me down, finally breaking free of their grip and immediately there was smoke covering the entirety of the house

Within seconds, each of my father’s men was knocked out by my group and Taeyong-hyung’s additional reinforcements. Once the smoke cleared up, everyone pointed their weapon towards my father as Taeyong stepped into the scene.

“Nam Goongmin. I didn’t expect for us to ever meet again ever since you nearly killed your own son” Taeyong-hyung mentioned. “Let the girl go and turn yourself in. You promised you wouldn’t kill her”

“I only said I would kill her if those files were released. Nothing more. But since you’re all here, you broke the agreement first, Jaemin” my father stated, making my jaw clench. “You want to understand my pain? Then let me show you” my father then stabbed (y/n) in the back and immediately pulled the scalpel out, making her bleed even more blood

Immediately, I rushed upstairs and shoved my father away, catching (y/n) in my arms when suddenly my father shoved me again and started a fight with me

Thankfully, Jeno, Shotaro, and Jaehyun-hyung came and helped bring (y/n) away from the fight between my father and I. Though I was already trained in combat and my father had already age, he still managed to get me out of breath.

My father’s aims were sharp and strong which made me have to go into defence mode until I saw an opening and kicked him on the side of his ribs, which made him stumble backwards. Immediately, I took my chances and threw several more punches which hit and eventually, I managed to pin him on the ground, using my knee to pin his chest down, making it hard for him to breathe while my left arm was right on his neck, barely allowing my father to even speak.

“I think you should be by her side, doctor. Unless of course, you want to feel the exact pain that I felt” my father managed to choke out, tears somehow forming in my eyes

“Jaemin!! You have to operate on (y/n) right now. She already lost so much blood and while we’ve stopped it, it won’t last long” Taeyong-hyung stated as some of his reinforcements came and handled my father

“You should listen to your leader, doctor. Unless you want to relive the time when you couldn’t save someone” my father taunted and Taeyong-hyung covered him from my sight. “Go. I managed to bring a decent amount of tools for you to operate. The guys also managed to find the same blood type as her. I’ll deal with your dad” Taeyong-hyung mentioned, ushering me to quickly go

“Hyung. Thank you. And don’t kill my father. As shitty as what he did, I still stand my ground. I’m not going to kill him and no one is allowed to kill him. He’s still my father after all” I mentioned, looking back at Taeyong-hyung then seeing the other men take my father away

Rushing to the room that my members brought (y/n) in, I immediately put on a mask and gloves before getting to work. Though not all of my members know how the surgery procedure works, I’ve done operations on other people alone before.

I saw the monitor that checked all of (y/n)’s blood condition and they were all very low. First things first, I had to do the blood transfusion quickly before operating on the wound. After setting up the blood bag and putting the IV into (y/n)’s blood vessel, I told Shotaro to eye the blood bag and tell me when it was running low so I could give another blood bag.

As the blood transfusion was happening, I immediately got to work with the wound. I made sure that none of her vital organs were hit before actually stitching her up. I didn’t know how long I was stitching (y/n) while also giving her blood transfusion but at some point, the monitor suddenly beeping like crazy which made me worry.

“Jaem…her blood pressure is decreasing and so is her heart rate. Are there any other scars or wounds she has?” Jeno asked and I instantly scanned her entire body once again and the tab about her past conditions but nothing checked up; it was as if her body was giving up on its own

“Nothing, Jen. She has no wounds, no allergies, no sudden reaction. Her body, its slowly giving up. I’ve only heard several cases of patients whose consciousness just shut down their whole body. I, I didn’t think I would see it happen in front of me” I stuttered, my hands were now shaking

“Jaemin, I know this might sound crazy but you have to talk to her. She might be unconscious but her consciousness is alive and she could most probably hear you. You have to convince her to fight through it” Jaehyun-hyung mentioned and I was a shaking mess

Putting my tools down, I stood right beside (y/n). I grabbed one of her hands and leaned down by her ear. “Hey. I’m not sure if you can hear me but I just wanted to tell you that you shouldn’t give up. I know that we barely met but when you told me what happened to you, I felt that no one was ever able to understand you unlike I do. When you told me what my father did to your family, it made me feel obligated to take care of you. It might seem that I’m doing this to repay what my father did but honestly, I want to help you. You weren’t ever given the chance to enjoy your life” I held (y/n)’s hand with both of mine, squeezing it

“I know that I’ve told you this before but I want to say it again, I want to remind you if you feel that you want to give up. I was at that point as well. I was truly lucky to be able to have a leader and friends that helped me find a new purpose and that alone drove me to help others. You want to know what I want to be a surgeon? It’s not to only save people but I want to give them hope, to give them a second chance in their life when no one else would. I want to help them heal from their trauma just as I want to help you. So please, don’t give up just yet. Let me take care of you and give you the life you deserve. Let me be the one to heal your trauma just as my members healed mine” I rambled, hoping that whatever I said actually got to (y/n)’s consciousness

Somehow, as crazy as Jaehyun-hyung idea was, my voice somehow got through (y/n) and the monitor was suddenly stable once again. Letting out a sigh of relief, I looked at (y/n)’s calmer face and looked at Jaehyun-hyung and Jeno who both told me that I was good to continue.

Thankfully, throughout the rest of the operation, (y/n) was stable and I finished operating on her quicker than usual. Not long, we had some backup to help bring (y/n) and my father’s men back to our base.

Back at the base, everyone cleaned up but I immediately made sure that (y/n) was taken care of. I didn’t even care that I was still in my uniform and covered in dirt, scars, and blood. What matters most is that (y/n) was in a comfortable room, being treated and stable.

I even waited for Kun-hyung to confirm that (y/n) was indeed stable and that all she needed was some rest before actually being dragged out of the room and shoved into our shower room to shower by Jeno.

“You finally done?” Jeno asked as I got changed and dried my hair

“Yeah. You wouldn’t even let me leave until I actually freshen up” I grumbled, annoyed that Jeno and the others wouldn’t let me stay until (y/n) was awake

“Because you reek. You really think (y/n) would want to be next to you when you look and smell like blood, sweat, and tears?” Jeno sarcased

“How is she? Stable right?” I asked, putting my uniform to the dirty basket for laundry later

“Yeah. Kun-hyung actually mentioned that her fingers were moving a bit which means she’s going to wake up soon” Jeno mentioned as I hummed. “What are you going to do with your dad though? Taeyong-hyung practically chained him up and well, the usual. Taeyong-hyung didn’t hurt him too badly, if that’s what you’re worried” Jeno rambled

“Honestly, I’m not sure yet. I don’t want to kill him that’s for sure, I…” I replied when the door was flung open and Renjun came in panting. “She’s awake and Taeyong-hyung is with her”

Within seconds of Renjun coming to tell us that (y/n) was awake, I wasted no time in rushing to her room and seeing Taeyong-hyung beside her. “Relax. I’m not tormenting her, Jaemin. Excuse him, he sometimes look into things a bit too deeply” Taeyong-hyung mentioned and I heard a soft chuckle

When I walked to the side, I saw (y/n) sitting on the bed, her face looked brighter and fresher than hours ago. “Hey” I called out to her, offering a soft smile which she replied back

“I’ll leave you both alone now. Jaemin, when you’re done, my office, alright?” Taeyong-hyung mentioned before leaving me with (y/n) in the room

I pulled a chair and sat next to (y/n). “How are you? How are you feeling? Any parts of your body that hurt?” I asked and (y/n) softly shook her head

“I’m okay. Thank you” (y/n) stated, making me smile. “T-thank you, for saving me” (y/n) uttered out and I immediately took her hands in mine

“No, thank you, for staying strong. I’m not sure if you heard what I said to you when you were unconscious but I promise you that I’ll help you get back up. I’ll help you get the life you’ve wanted. Not because I feel obligated for what my father has done but because you deserve it and maybe because I can relate to you. Only if you allow me to help you, that is?” I rambled on and (y/n) held my hand tighter

“I’d like that. But I also want you to share your burden too” (y/n) uttered, making me smile wider, pressing my forehead onto hers. “As long as you let me take care of you and your trauma” I replied. For the first time, I felt calmer and more at peace since a long time.

NCT Prison - 12:18 am

Though I’ve been through these empty halls, I typically walk through them with my members to torment one of our prisoners. But this time, walking alone felt foreign. It reminded me of the day I left my home on my own. When there was no one to help me at all. But this time it was different. I wasn’t the same boy who ran away from his problems.

No. I decided I was finally going to put an end to it. By going in and facing the man who was both someone I used to look up to and someone that I despised.

“I’m amazed that you actually came. I thought you’d let your leader and other members do as they please with me” my father stated, locked within one of the cages of the prison

“I wouldn’t let them do that. Unlike you, father, who almost killed their own son, I would never let you get killed by my own members. As much as I despised you, you’re still my father. You said it yourself. I’m your son” I started out

“So then what? Are you going to torture me now? Your leader already has my files and most probably he’s going to release it tomorrow along with a statement that I’ve fallen and been captured. Then are you going to kill me by yourself? Is that why you’re not letting your members kill me?” my father questioned me

“I’m not going to kill you. Sure, my leader is going to open up and give a statement regarding his recent findings about you. But I told him that whatever he tells to the public will just be for the public because…I’ve already lost one parent. I don’t intend to lose another” I uttered, my father finally looking at me

“You might not be the best father but at some point, you raised me well. I know you love mom so much and you miss her just as I do but I know that mom would have never wanted us to be like this. She would have wanted both of us to be able to move on and live our lives. Not hating each other. Not chasing each other. We don’t even have to like each other or what we do but I know that mom would have wanted us to just try and get along. And that’s what I plan on doing” I ranted

“You can think that I’m weak or anything you want. But I hope that someday, you’ll be able to see me as your son who only wanted his dad. Not his father. I hope that you will be able to go back to the time when you were happy with mom but this time with me. And I hope that one day, you’ll admit your mistakes and apologise for what you’ve done. Not to me. I’ve gotten over that a long time ago. But to those who you’ve hurt and traumatised” I rambled on before slightly bowing to my father, about to leave but stopped upon hearing my father spoke

“You’re wrong, Jaemin. You’re not my son. You’re mine and your mother’s son. And whether you think that I was going to kill you that day. I wasn’t. Just like you, I was angry at what happened. And was pissed that you cowardly left me. But never did I ever think to kill you. Even now. I would have never killed the one person who reminded me of what your mother and I were like when we first fell for each other” my father finally spoke in a softer tone, making me turn to face him

“But you’re right. I was a shitty father when I should’ve been more of a dad to you. For that, I’m sorry. But I’m glad that you got more of your mother’s side. I’m glad that you grew up well. Your mom might hate me but I know for sure that she’s proud of the man you’ve become” my dad stated, actually smiling a bit which made me smile

“Thanks. I’ll um, talk to you again soon. I hope you do reflect on your mistakes. See you soon, dad” I uttered, leaving my dad, finally getting over the trauma that I’ve been holding onto for years

A/N: hopefully you guys enjoy this other long mafia fic of mine. I swear I will make a whole mini mafia series masterlist. After my 100th post which will be coming in December. I'm sorry that I've been slow on my stories and have only been posting like once a month but somehow, I ended up writing this mini mafia series which while fun, takes quite a while to write as I want them to somewhat interconnect with one another. Alright, before I go, I'm gonna give a mini sneak peek at my 100th post which will be another mafia series. Thank you all, have a great day and stay safe xoxo vinet

Sneak Peek for 100th Post

“Yo, John, doesn’t she look a bit too young to be working a a club?” Jaehyuna asked, looking over to a young girl wearing the waitress uniform, serving some drinks to old sweaty men

Johnny who was just trying to drink and enjoy his night eventually followed Jaehyun’s gaze and landed on the girl that Jaehyun was describing.

Sure, Johnny might’ve opened his own bar with Taeyong’s permission but that doesn’t mean that he allows just about anyone to work in his bar. And while he doesn’t deal with all the miscellaneous work in the bar, he surely memorises his staff and the girl Jaehyun pointed out was never in any parts of Johnny’s memory.

Instead of confronting the girl, Johnny immediately called another waiter to get the current manager and question the girl whom he learned was technically legal to work in a bar as she was 21+ and the manager mentioned that she was only a part-timer on the weekends since they needed more help.

Right when the manager was explaining to Johnny, he saw one of the old men put their hands on the girl’s bare thigh which scared the girl. Angered at the behaviour, Johnny stood up and stomped his way to the scene before the man could go any further.

“This is an exclusive bar and I make sure that all of my staff are always on their best service. But that doesn’t mean that you could just harass them like this” Johnny growled, gripping the older man’s arm tightly that the people nearby could hear a bone crack

“Especially when it’s an old man harassing a young girl” Johnny grunted, pushing the man that he fell off his chair; the other men around the table started to get up, about to put up a fight when Jaehyun came beside Johnny, shielding the girl

“I suggest you all sit your old sweaty asses down unless you want your old bones to be broken” Jaehyun taunted. “Or shall we call Taeyong? Because he’s the co-owner of this bar and I don’t think he would be pleased that his supposed business partners were in his bar, harassing a girl”

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fancyfeathers · 4 months

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The Hydro Knight

(Yandere Childe) (Normalized Yandere AU)

What happens when Childe’s darling goes to the darling of Signora to learn how to defend herself and fight…

going from this post and the credit to the names goes to @busy-dadzawa-fish who I asked if I could use the names they came up with here as placeholder names for the other darlings when writing from different perspectives

You sat on your sleeping bag, your head facing up at the stars above you. You couldn’t sleep, not tonight, so while everyone slept you sat awake. The days merged together now, every day the same, just trying to survive. You think your birthday was coming up soon but Archons you can’t remember when. Ajax- no, Childe probably remembered, after all he remembered you even after he left for the Fatui. He came back only to ask your parents for your hand, no letters, no word from him, not even from his family, nothing. He was obsessed with the idea of you, the ide of how you were when you were young together.

So that leads you to where you are now, on the run with a few others, a knight and ballerina from Mondstadt, a librarian from Fontaine, a medic from Sumeru, and from your home land of Snezhnaya, a hunter, and who you knew the longest a shopkeeper named Keina. Honestly you felt the most pity for her, she had worked hard for her whole life, building up everything to own a small business that was absolutely torn down by the ninth of the Fatui Harbingers, Pantalone, all because she rejected her proposal. She had worked for everything only to be crushed under his heel. You felt so similarly to her, you were planning on running your family’s business one day, not being a harbinger’s housewife.

You decided to stop trying to sleep so you stood yourself up, walking off to find another clearing in the woods as to not wake the others up. When you first left Snezhnaya and made your first stop on in Mondstadt you had found an old sword that you had fixed up for you. You didn’t really how how to use the sword but you figured that having a weapon was better than not having one at all, plus with you having a vision it would be smart to at least have a weapon to use with it.

“You’re going to hurt yourself swinging your sword like that.” A voice caught you completely off guard and you almost screams, but you were able to whip your head around and you only saw the familiar face of one of your travel partners, Clarus a former Knight of Favonius until he left Mondstadt to accompany you all. He was just wearing his travel clothes and jacket, no armor or anything else, he must have just woken up. You watched as he walked over to you, and nudged your legs to stand farther apart with one of his boots. His hands took you by the arm and guided you on how to stand. “You want to win a fight, you need to know how to stand. If your feet are to close together any Fatui agent could easily kick your legs in and get you to fall to the ground.”

“T-Thanks…”

“Don’t mention it, besides I’d rather not see you die in a fight.”

He helped you train that night and other nights following, unsurprisingly he could not sleep either. Clarus was a surprisingly good teacher, with his formal demeanor you would have expected him to be cold and stern, but he was kind just quiet. You learned that he helped train and teach the younger knights. You never asked about his days with Signora, you figured it would bring back bad memories for him even if he said that you could.

Then the news of the death of Signora came to you all. When your heard the news all of you turned to face the knight, reading him for a reaction but he cried. When you asked him why he cried he smiled and said. “I weep for joy, I am finally free.”

If only it stayed like that…

After the news your lessons stopped as Clarus returned to the Knights of Favonius, back to his position as an instructor. Then not even a week later you received news on how he was attacked on the way back to his some in Springvale. He was missing…

Meanwhile at the Zapolyarny Palace the hydro knight was forced down on his knees by Fatui agents in front of the Harbingers and the Tsaritsa herself. His lip was bleeding and he wore more than a few bruises. The Tsaritsa smiled down at the beat up knight, the letter he was going to send to you in hand.

“Ajax, come here.”

At the goddess’ words the red headed harbinger walked over to the Tsaritsa‘s side and she handed him the letter, letting him read it.

“It seems like this knight has taken your fiancé as his newest student…”

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere childe x reader #yandere Childe #childe x reader #yandere tartaglia

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benedictscanvas · 1 year

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Hi loveee❤️

So i have a request for Steve Rogers x reader

So basically the reader is shy! Insecure maybe

She is really quiet and has a badd crush on the captain but is not able to express her feelings necessarily. Overthinks alot. It's Steve's birthday and she works really hard on knitting a scarf because he once told her his ma used to knit him scarves. She writes a sweet letter for him along with it finally expressing her feelings. On his birthday they sit around and he decides to open everyone's gifts. She starts thinking her gift is nothing compared to tony's bmw or nat's gold wrist watch and basically tells him that she had ordered his gift but it got delayed. He finds out about her scarf and letter and confronts her💕

Ends with alot of fluffff 😌❤️

Ik this is all over the place but i needed to vent this idea here😂

This is utterly adorable and so are youuuu, thank you for a gorgeous request, my lovely <3 I got a little carried away with it! || 2.2k words of pure fluff

The little parcel is wrapped in deep red paper, tied with a crisp blue ribbon and the ends are curled with scissors. You've hidden it underneath the sofa where you're sat in its corner, both feet on the floor in an extra attempt to conceal its whereabouts. It's difficult not to be a little embarrassed by the effort you've put into it, but you keep reminding yourself the kind of person Steve is. How much he appreciates effort above end result.

But still, the reason it's hidden at all is in case you bottle it and can't hand it to him. You feel safer with a get out clause.

"Go on, Cap, start with me. We all know you save the best til first."

Tony, of course, is the one to kick proceedings off by handing Steve a golden envelope. So extreme, and funnily enough, so not Steve. But you knew that theatrics were Tony's thing and that whatever was inside would likely be perfect for him.

And you were right. Inside the envelope were two tickets to see the new play on Broadway that Steve had been dying to see. Tickets were so scarce even the Avengers themselves had been having trouble securing them, but Tony was a cut above the rest. Steve looked genuinely thrilled, far more than he had when he'd seen the envelope.

"This is too kind, Tony, thank you. Really."

A look of understanding passed between them. There was a lump in your throat. You subtly adjusted your foot so that your heel nudged the present further under the sofa.

"We get it, he's very rich," Sam said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, "But mine's a knockout, seriously. You're gonna crap yourself, Tin Man."

He launched a present across the room at Steve who caught it with little effort, but shook his head at the room's antics. This mass present opening had, of course, not been his idea. He would much rather have done all this individually with everyone, or better yet, not done it at all and have nobody even remember that it was his birthday. But they'd all insisted behind his back. Obviously. You'd been there, and wanted to speak up about whether it would really be Steve's thing, but you didn't want to sound like you were knocking their kindness.

Sam had bought him a new sketchbook, but it was circular, and bore the design of his shield on the front. Thoughtful and, again, expensive, according to Steve, who had immediately examined the quality of the paper inside with wide, appreciative eyes.

Nat had bought him a new watch, and swore she got it completely legally and above board. That was expensive too. Vision and Wanda produced a gorgeous vintage record player that she had apparently enchanted to play whatever Steve wanted to hear. Bruce had built him an actual motorbike.

It was all a bit much. Yes, you were an Avenger too and you could afford whatever you would have wanted to get Steve, but you'd really thought homemade would be a million times more appreciated. Would show just how important he had become to you.

Unlike Bruce, unfortunately your version of homemade could not include a new bike.

Everyone's presents came and went while you were stuck in your own head, struggling not to hyperventilate, until Bucky placed a friendly hand on your shoulder.

"Just you left, doll."

You hadn't even seen what Bucky had given him, lost in your own musings. You were sure it would have been beautiful, Bucky knew him inside out. It was clear that your mind had been made up, anyway. You plastered a sheepish look on your face that wasn't all that made up.

"I meant to say before we started, your present hasn't arrived yet, Steve," you said, sorrowful, even though he was smiling at you as if what you'd said had no meaning, "I'm really sorry. I'll get it to you as soon as its here."

"I hope you know that none of you had to get me anything anyway," he said honestly, looking around the room before his gaze landed back on you, "Please don't worry."

You smiled, small and unconvincing, nodding your agreement. You rose from your seat, assuming the proceedings had finished for now before the not-so-surprise party later that evening. You delivered a final back-heeled kick to the present as you stood up, just to make sure it was fully under the sofa.

"I'm still sorry," you said quietly, "I need to go and get ready, I'll see you all later."

You turned and all but fled the room, not staying to hear Tony's confusion about you not usually needing any time at all to get ready for anything. You had specifically been trying not to make a scene, and somehow you'd made one anyway. It was difficult to keep the tears in your eyes at bay.

You just felt silly. It was something you hadn't really felt since high school until this year, and now you often felt a little silly anytime you left Steve's presence. He was just so good and so unbelievably attractive and made you feel so utterly at home when you spent time with him - it was difficult not to feel silly afterwards when you lay on your bed and romanticised your every interaction.

When you were actually with him, though, he never made you feel silly. He made you feel funny and intelligent and altogether giddy sometimes, but never silly. The way he valued your words, your opinions, your company, it was impossible for your heart not to skip inside your chest.

You retreated to your bed now, flopping down right in the centre of it, tired and crying. Just a little bit. He was so kind to you, all the time. He would've pretended he loved the scarf. He would've liked it, probably, but he couldn't love it, not when it was such a tiny gesture compared with everyone else's.

And the note. Shit, amongst all the dread and anxiety, you had forgotten the note. Neatly taped to the parcel and longer than it should have been. For Steve's eyes only. Practically a confession. If you hadn't have fled, you would've been forced to give that to him in front of anyone, which categorically could not happen.

"Y/N? You in there?"

Steve. You froze, then hastily wiped at your eyes, checking them in the mirror. They were a little red, but you hoped he wasn't feeling observant on his birthday. Plastering on a smile, you opened the door. He filled the entire doorframe, all broad shoulders and-

You tried to stop that thought before it blossomed.

"Sorry, just picking out an outfit. Everything okay?"

"I came to ask you that," he said, and he almost looked embarrassed but you had no idea why, "Why wouldn't you give me your present?"

You frowned.

"I told you-"

He brought the parcel, your parcel, out from behind his back. Ah. You must have kicked it hard enough for it to come out the other side. Stupid. The embarrassment suddenly made sense. He gestured for you to let him inside, since you were still blocking the entrance, so you traipsed over to sit on your bed. If he was looking embarrassed, you guessed he'd read the note. This was torture.

"I haven't opened it," he said quickly, shutting your down and sitting next to you. He kept his distance, "And I won't, if you don't want me to. But I'd really, really like to, if you'll let me."

"You read the note?" you asked, slumped and resigned to your fate, surprised by the confusion that darted across his features. You noticed the present was the wrong way up. He hadn't turned it over. For some reason, maybe self-destruction or a cruel strand of hope, you turned it over for him, to the side where the bow and the note were on full display. Untouched.

"I didn't see it," he murmured to himself, "Can I?"

Still he waited for your permission. Such a lovely man, with such lovely eyes that, even now, were looking at you with delicate care. It ached. You nodded.

He untied the bow with careful fingers that almost looked shaky in the low lamp light you'd curated within your room. The envelope was opened with equal care, and soon he was holding the A5 paper in front of his face, eyes scanning through the words.

Steve,

You told me once that your ma used to knit you scarves, that sometimes you wished you still had one of them now. I know it could never be the same, but I hope this keeps you warmer than you would be without it. One of your gifts, I think, is to bring warmth to everyone around you and the warmth you have brought to my own life is indescribable. I could never repay it, but this is a step in the right direction, I hope.

Happy birthday, Steve.

Yours, Y/N

You held your breath as he read. You could remember each line painstakingly, having taken so long to craft it. Even he wasn't oblivious enough not to recognise the meaning behind your words, the feeling that weaved itself around the page.

It had been too long. When you braved a glance at his face, his eyeline told you he was reading it a second time. You watched him get to the end and start from the beginning. Again.

You may have been unbelievably nervous, but it didn't erase your impatience.

"You're going to have to say something at some point, Steve," you breathed, not realised how out of breath you'd gotten just watching him. His eyes snapped to yours like he'd forgotten you were there. Wide and disbelieving. Impossible to read, "Or you can just leave, I guess, if you want. We don't have to talk about it again, it was such a stupid-"

He shook his head, stopping your train of thought from spiralling. But instead of speaking, he set the letter down neatly on his lap and ripped open the wrapping paper, pulling out a knitted scarf that was striped brown and beige and designed to match his leather jacket perfectly. You'd searched for the right yarn for weeks. You'd never tell him.

"How long?"

His words were little more than a whisper. There were so many things he could have been talking about.

"How long what?"

"How long did it take?" he said, turning the fabric over in his hands, running his fingers over the stitches with fingers that were definitely trembling now, "To make it, I mean?"

"Oh, not long-" you began, but stopped when he looked up at you with tears in his eyes. You felt that lump in your throat again. You'd never seen him cry. It was impossible to tell him anything but the truth, "A few months. Whenever I had a free moment and not every single day, but a few months. Five, actually."

He just stared. You kept talking.

"I just wanted it special for you. I'm sorry I lied. Everyone spent so much, I got embarrassed. It was silly."

"Not silly," he said, firm and serious, like he was angry you'd even think it, "You're not silly. You're perfect, this is perfect. I can't- I can't believe you'd remember such a tiny comment from so long ago."

You shrugged. He'd just called you perfect and you were trying not to glow.

"You'd remember. You always remember things I've said, however small or silly. Wanted someone to do that for you."

"You're not silly, you've never been silly," he says again, clutching the scarf and staring down at it again rather than you, "I only remember that stuff because I'm so in love with you I can't stand it. I never thought you'd-"

Now you were lightheaded. Had he...? He was still staring at the scarf, awestruck and looking completely oblivious to what he'd just said. But he meant it. Steve never said anything he didn't mean. Now you were glowing, bursting, grinning and you didn't try to stop it.

"You never thought I'd be so in love with you too that I can barely breathe with it?" you supplied, watching again as his watery eyes snapped up to yours once more, shock bleeding from him, "You thought wrong, I guess. Surprise."

You giggled at yourself, because you were talking nonsense and Steve loved you. It was heaven when he giggled too, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, not the scarf, and then offering you the material. You took it wordlessly, understanding between you as there always was, and wound it around his neck. It fit perfectly.

He took your hand from the scarf you were adjusting before you could react and kissed your thumb. At your sheer delight, he kissed your forefinger, then your middle, ring, pinky and then right back up to the thumb, tiny little kisses. He stared at your hand.

"Magic," he said softly, taking your hand and his to cup your cheek. You couldn't help but close your eyes, "Promise me you'll never feel embarrassed with me again. I can't bear it. You're just magic, you have to see it."

For him, you could try. For now, all you could do was lean in to kiss him and hope you'd get to do it forever.

if you'd like to request something, please do so here. i'd love to hear from you, sunflower <3

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #steve rogers imagine #captain america fanfiction #captain america oneshot #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers oneshot #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel oneshot

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tomorrowxtogether · 1 month

Text

Music BEOMGYU listens to, sings and writes

The TOMORROW X TOGETHER member shares his views on the power of music

Having grown up with music around him, BEOMGYU has since become an artist himself and takes on the role of DJ on his Weverse radio show, Beom’edio, to discuss his musical thoughts, feelings, and tastes with his listeners. You can tell how serious he takes music by how he carefully combs through lyrics to pick out songs that perfectly reflect the stories he hears from fans. BEOMGYU’s already been an idol for five years, but he’s still passionately exploring his musical side, looking to get better at playing guitar and writing songs. He lights up when he talks about the power of music, and wants to be the one to show people just how powerful it can be. As you’ll see below, BEOMGYU’s musical world keeps on growing up and outward.

A friendly, chill time with the host of Beom’edio BEOMGYU: Hosting a radio show was always a small dream of mine. I wanted to hear stories from listeners and give me thoughts on them, talk about my own experiences—just chill like that. I was on a number of radio shows after debuting, both as a one-time guest and over a few episodes, and that led to me setting myself a goal to have my own radio show some day. I don’t put in a huge about of prep for the broadcast—just get excited thinking about the stories I’ll get to hear and think about what I should tell them. I’ve seen MOA worry about me before, like, Is something wrong with BEOMGYU today? He looks a little down today. But it’s not like that—never. (laughs) I’m always pretty quiet when I’m not working on camera and even more so when the other members aren’t around. I keep reminding the fans that keeping things chill and low-key works nicely for me.

Choosing songs for MOA after a long, hard day BEOMGYU: I read people’s stories, look up lines from songs that have made me feel better in the past, and try to pick out the song that matches best to play. I recommend these songs to MOA after they’ve had a long, hard day in hopes that it’ll be a good way to bring it to a close. Sometimes just a single little song can be a huge source of relief after a really tough day, you know? And I really love hearing people talk about their lives. When I recorded the third episode of Beom’edio for my birthday, there were a lot of stories about birthday traditions I forgot about but that I’m sure I used to do, like eating seaweed soup. And I remember there was someone who talked about how they turned things around and wrote their parents a letter on their own birthday and their mom cried while reading it. I learn things from reading MOA’s stories and get wrapped up in their emotions, which I feel like gives me more emotional depth.

The feel-good beauty of comforting indie music BEOMGYU: When I was a trainee, I listened to “Photograph” by offonoff a lot, and practiced singing it, too. I would listen to it at night when I was alone and that helped calm me down. I really loved that. That’s when I started really getting into indie music. I still listen to it today. To me, indie music feels like it’s either really poetic or really straightforward. When I’m listening to music, or when I’m writing my own lyrics, I like a song where the words alone can make you feel better, even without any melody. A lot of the songs that gave me support when I felt anxious or down were indie songs, so I listened to a lot of them. That’s why I play indie music for MOA so often on Beom’edio.

Heo Hoy Kyung’s cover of “Anti-Romantic” BEOMGYU: I said on Beom’edio before how “I think the power of music is amazing.” When I experience emotional uncertainty, I really rely on the power of music. It can be especially tough being in unfamiliar places when traveling abroad. So, before I get on a plane or go up on stage, I need some alone time. And in times like that, I always listen to Heo Hoy Kyung. I was so happy when I saw recently that Heo Hoy Kyung sang a TOMORROW X TOGETHER song on Lee Hyori’s Red Carpet and talked about me. (laughs) She sang “Anti-Romantic,” and that song means a lot to me because I worked really hard on the lyrics and I feel emotional whenever I perform it. I was with my parents when she covered it, and I kept bragging and showing it to them. I listened to her cover on repeat until I fell asleep. (laughs) If I ever get to cover one of her songs, I’d like to try doing “So life goes on”!

Songs that bring BEOMGYU back to a special time BEOMGYU: My taste in music is heavily influenced by what I listened to with my dad when I was young—listening to ABBA songs like “Dancing Queen” and “I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do” early in the morning, or “Piano Man” by Billy Joel. Even now, whenever I listen to ABBA, I still picture waking up at three or four in the morning with my dad and driving to Taebaek. And my mom used to play IU’s album A Flower Bookmark on a speaker every morning. Whenever I hear songs from that album, I think about the times I woke up rubbing my eyes. That’s part of the reason why I bought a copy on vinyl. Sure, you can just listen to music, but it also makes memories last longer, you know? It makes them memorable. That’s what makes music so special.

BEOMGYU’s approach to songwriting BEOMGYU: When I write a song, I always, always, always draw on personal experience. When I go to write a song, if I can look at what it’s about and relate to it and go, I’ve thought that before, or, I’ve dealt with this before, then I can get really into writing about it, but I don’t really write about things I haven’t personally experienced. I don’t feel really confident about writing about emotions I haven’t personally felt. Everyone has their own approach to writing songs; this is just the style that’s worked for me so far. I don’t sit down to write songs—I’ll just be walking along or washing my hands in the bathroom when suddenly an idea hits me and I make a quick note on my phone or hum the melody and record it. I try to take my thoughts and feelings about my experiences and turn them into songs.

What BEOMGYU wants to preserve through his music BEOMGYU: It feels like lots of people are so busy living their lives that they completely miss out on the things right in front of them. Even me: Until just recently, I was so involved in the things I’m working on that I never properly got in touch with my parents or with my friends. But then, this year, I realized something. I’ve been in Seoul for something like seven or eight years now, and I feel like I’m missing out on so much. I need to look around myself more and take better care of the people around me. There’s a song by LANY about parents called “if this is the last time.” We always think of our moms and dads as these strong superheroes who always win in the end, but at some point you realize they’re getting older. I go down to Daegu once a year to see my parents, and every time I do and I see they’ve gotten a bit older, it really hurts to think about—because, even though everybody gets older, I wasn’t there to watch it happen and I couldn’t pay enough attention. And I want to preserve this realization I made earlier this year by writing a song about it.

A growing appreciation for “Skipping Stones” BEOMGYU: In a previous Weverse Magazine interview, I mentioned that “Skipping Stones” really lets me show off my vocals, but to be honest, I wasn’t confident about that from the start. When I heard we were going to have an indie song, I had no idea it was going to sound like that. It felt all new. It didn’t sound like what I’m used to hearing from indie. But SOOBIN absolutely loved it. That’s when I realized how many different styles there are within indie, and over time, I really came to love it. And it sounded even better with our vocals. My vocal parts were higher than I usually sing, and it feels like the way I pushed myself to sing it actually brings out the emotion better. It doesn’t normally feel so emotional if the singer can effortlessly hit those high notes. (laughs)

Songwriting always begins with a guitar BEOMGYU: Guitar is one of those things I can never leave out of my music. And actually, every time I write a song, it always begins with the guitar. I honestly think songs without guitar in them feel flat. (laughs) There’s something comforting about an acoustic guitar—and electric guitars make you feel energetic. I’m still looking into guitar lessons, too. I’d love to keep taking lessons, but it’s hard to find time with all the promoting and touring, unfortunately. But I fell even more for the electric guitar while practicing the song “Wonder” for the latest concert. Learning to play electric guitar better would vastly widen the spectrum of music I could write, not to mention my ability to express those things on stage. I want to get better so that I have more to offer. Practicing guitar empties my head of distraction and instead fills it up with determination. (laughs) Like, I gotta do this.

Packing five years into minisode 3: TOMORROW BEOMGYU: Preparing for this comeback was the busiest we’ve ever been, without question. (laughs) All I was thinking about while recording the vocals was, I really have to do a good job here. I just thought, the better I do it, the better the message gets across. “Quarter Life” was the song off the album that most closely aligned with my tastes at first, but now I’m loving “Miracle” the most. “Quarter Life” is a unit track with Kai, TAEHYUN, and me, all of who love the sound of rock music, so we were extremely excited to try something like this. I actually thought about doing rock music with Kai all the time, and I wanted to do it with TAEHYUN too because he has such an amazing voice with a wide vocal range.

Shared tastes in music among the group members BEOMGYU: SOOBIN likes indie music, too, so he recommends a lot of songs to me. He’ll send me, like, three songs and then two days later come ask me, “Did you listen?!” But the truth is, I don’t always check them out right away. (laughs) If I say, “No yet,” he pushes me, like, “Just listen already! Listen to them right now!” (laughs) SOOBIN’s really broadened my taste in indie. Sometimes when I’m with him and see how he listens to music, I think, Wow—this guy really loves his indie. Of all the songs he’s sent me, my favorite was Kim Hyunchang’s song “Nothing but Morning,” which I talked about on Beom’edio. I think Kai and I click musically too. Both of us used to play instruments and we love rock music.

Speaking up through indie music BEOMGYU: I’ve mentioned before that I have a personal goal where “I hope I can engage in indie music in the future.” While I do work on and put a lot of thought into TOMORROW X TOGETHER’s music, I’m also constantly thinking about what my music is like. So, when I have a little more time and my skill levels improve a bit, I want to think about what kind of music it is I truly want to do and try to write my own music. Learning guitar is another part of that dream. Those songs you hear where they play the guitar and softly, softly sing about the things they want to say, and they make you feel good? That’s the kind of music I want to make. Music that says what I want to say.

#txt #tomorrow x together #240408 #weverse magazine #beomgyu #choi beomgyu #weverse

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whinlatter · 8 months

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Plss do 5, 22 and 14 for Lily again. I just love her so much😅

5. Best personality trait

one of the things that i’ve always found striking in lily’s letter to sirius in DH is both how immediately warm she comes across, but also how brimming with emotion she is. the ‘thank you, thank you, for harry’s birthday present’ is this lovely, affectionate, slightly dramatic opener. the letter is obviously desperately sad - especially with hindsight - but it’s also emotionally confessional (she ‘cried all evening’ when she heard about the McKinnons), gossipy (‘it seems impossible to believe that dumbledore was ever really friends with grindelwald. i think bathilda’s mind is going, personally’), even spiteful (‘no complaints’ about harry smashing petunia’s vase). her love and concern for james is all over the letter, but so is her concern for peter (‘i thought he seemed down’). even the act of writing the letter and conveying to his godfather how much harry loved his present shows her concern for sirius, too, wanting to make him a part of the moment he missed. i think what i like about it is that if even the letter isn’t a completely truthful insight into lily’s feelings about being in hiding — she doesn’t describe her likely feelings of fear for harry, although we get this little hint about frustrations told through james, and mention of dumbledore having the cloak — it does still give a portrait of a character who feels her feelings deeply and brims with emotion. it’s particularly striking because it also is a rare lapse from jkr’s usual (clumsy, unjust) female characterisations in the series, where female characters are condemned for being gossipy or melodramatic or are rewarded in the narrative for being stoic. that lily ‘cried all evening’ over the mckinnons’ deaths is so indicative of a character who wasn’t yet war-weary (never had a chance to be), so did grief in a very open, unabashed way, and i just love that.

(it also shows how harry, the stoic/emotionally repressed young man, is a function more of his upbringing rather than his parents’ personalities - james is an open book in what little we see of him in canon, and lily clearly was effusive, chatty, heart on her sleeve and had her many emotions right there at the surface. it gives a glimpse of what harry could have been, or could still be, in peacetime. that harry immediately cries when he reads lily’s letter for the first time is this lovely little moment of aspects of the mother coming through in the usually very tightly-wound, repressed son.)

14. Most heroic moment

aside from the - er - canonically lauded and obvious, it’s got to be her joining the order straight out of school, especially as a muggleborn. to put herself at that level of personal risk for a resistance movement age eighteen as a member of a socially marginalised persecuted group is a major slay. lily likely had only been close with the marauders for a year at most (assuming going out with james was the conduit for those friendships, which it seems in canon like it was). so we can assume that she had her own political awakening and her interest in resistance politics wasn’t limited to her association with james and the gang. and i think that is Cool!

22. Best physical feature

if people were still banging on about how gorgeous my eyes were after i’ve been in the ground for a decade i’d be pretty chuffed, let me tell ya! people were falling over themselves/slamming the brakes/stopping traffic/climbing over barbed wire fences to tell lily’s son he had her eyes. those must have been some gorgeous peepers. also you know that hair was fire. that glossy dark red — whew! the potters are a haircare dynasty, remember. they know luscious locks when they see them. it had body, it had volume, it had magic of its own — lily evans’ hair was the moment ❤️‍🔥

#lily evans #headcanons #every time i do marauders headcanons i get nervous what do we think this means #lily potter #marauders #ask game #jily

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tenjikubaby · 2 years

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rindou may break his enemies’ bones but never ur heart <3 <3

alternatively titled, “projecting everything my last relationship lacked on imagined romantic scenarios with rindou”

What’s it like having Rindou as your partner? Gender-neutral HCs

#2 Best Boyfriend Rindou. Dependable. Affectionate. Secret softie.

➼ Rindou lets you listen to all his mixes and always asks what you think. He’s always excited to share them with you. Be honest but also hype him up, would you? He values your opinion so much. If you happen to love something he made, he’d be so, so happy.

➼ He could remix your favorite song, maybe make an original mix inspired by music you like. Maybe you could work on something together if you’re a musician.

➼ When you’re sleeping together, he tends to roll over so that you’re under him and just stays there. So in the morning, you wake up to a whole Rindou on top of you. He’s warm though, and honestly I wouldn’t complain.

➼ Let’s say you’re the one who patches him up after he and Ran return from a fight. This guy would exaggerate his pain so you’d baby him more. (“Oh no, my poor baby! Where does it hurt?”) Either you fall for this act, or you know what he’s doing but choose to give him what he wants anyway. Ran would witness all this and just roll his eyes.

➼ Would talk your ears off if you’d let him. Rindou has A LOT of stories to tell and he’s always excited to share them with you. He’s the type of person that, while telling his stories, would stop in the middle and say “Wait, wait. Before that, this happened,” and it’s adorable! But he’ll soon notice that he’s been talking too much. He’d say a sheepish sorry and asks about your day. (Note: It’s adorable how he shared two stories on his CB3 profile)

➼ He may talk a lot about himself and his experiences, but he is NOT the type of person to just let you finish and bring the topic back to him. Conversations with Rindou are always fulfilling for the both of you. You’re also free to talk to him about whatever! He loves to hear you talk about your interests as well, and loves when he learns new things from you.

➼ He’d try to get into your interests so you’d have more stuff to talk about or do together. If you’re a reader, he’d ask for book recommendations (though I don’t really see him as someone who reads. If any of the Haitani brothers read, it would probably be Ran). He would pick it up and constantly update you on his progress.

➼ Expect A LOT of gifts on your birthday. A huge plushie? Yes. A cake or any dessert you like? Got it. A handwritten birthday letter? It’s there. A book, movie, or video game you’ve been wanting? Rindou remembered, and he got it for you. He never gives just one gift.

➼ When he tried to make you a birthday cake, it was so dry and the frosting was so sloppily done. Ran saw and tried to help but he somehow made it worse and it looked like it was about to fall over. So they called Kaku over for help. Kaku helped them turn the failed cake into a cake pop bouquet while Izana watched and ate frosting. Rindou still owes him one.

➼ Since TR is (mostly) set in the 2000s, I just thought of burned CDs! Rindou makes playlists for you and burns them onto CDs, which he would write little notes on. You do the same for him and he keeps all of them in his CD shelves to play whenever he misses you.

➼ Kiss him out of the blue! Maybe do it while he’s talking or focusing intensely on something he’s doing. Do it, because it always makes him smile and you get to see his dimples. (Imagine Rindou with dimples? Waaaaaa ang guwapo :”) ) He’ll give you a kiss or more back.

➼ At night, if you’re not together, he calls you before bed to talk about how your days went. If your day was pretty uneventful, Rindou just rambles on about how his meeting went, something Ran did, or other stuff he might want to share. He’d say “good night” and “I love you” before hanging up.

➼ If you’re interested in fitness, that’s another thing you and your boyfriend can bond over! He’ll assist you through difficult exercises. Have you seen partner workouts? You’d definitely do those together. And if you’re okay with it, you might even do those partner workouts where the couples... kiss 😳 (It ends in a makeout session)

➼ Once Ran likes you enough, Ran might ask Rindou to invite you over for dinner. Rindou is then subjected to the torture of his of his brother showing you all his baby pics and sharing embarrassing stories from when they were kids. Rindou wanted you to get along with Ran, but not like this :(

#tokyo revengers headcanons #rindou haitani #rindou haitani x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tenjikubaby

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verydeadaten · 7 months

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Jaune's Sixth Sense: Pyrrha Addition

The highly unanticipated sequel to this post!

________________________________

Jaune and Pyrrha were hanging out in Jaune’s old room in Ansel. They were on break, and Jaune wanted to show his girlfriend the village where he was raised. Pyrrha was sitting on the surprisingly comfortable bed, looking at the wall covered with posters of rock bands and superheroes. Jaune was at his small bookshelf, picking something up. He walked towards the bed, and spoke.

“Pyrrha, you know how you asked me about my favorite fairytale a while ago?”

She looked at him. “I can recall that, yes”

Jaune handed her something. A book. “Well, this is it.”

The book in her hands was heavy, and red. There was an illustration on the cover, what seemed to be a knight in a field. The back had a very scary looking wolf on it. The cover had the book’s title in big, shiny letters. The Great Hunt. Pyrrha looked up at her lover, surprised.

“Jaune, this isn’t a fairytale. This is an epic poem.”

“Yeah, I know, but-”

Pyrrha was laughing now. “I had to read an excerpt from it in combat school, then write an essay about it!”

Jaune was laughing too. “Really? How’d you do?”

“I think I did okay. I don’t remember the exact grade. You probably could’ve done better.”

“Jeez, Pyrrha. My writing isn’t that good.”

Pyrrha had a serious look in her eyes. “Beloved, I got an eighty-six on the last essay Oobleck gave us.”

“Pyrrha…”

“You got one-hundred and ten. You got a perfect score with extra credit on an assignment that nearly everyone else failed. Even Weiss didn’t get a perfect score. Your writing is leagues better than mine will ever be. Now…”

She slammed her hands on the book on her lap. “Tell me about this!”

Jaune exhaled. “Alright. So, I think my mom read it to me as a bedtime story when I was three.”

Pyrrha stifled a laugh. “Really?! I’m pretty sure most parents would read their toddlers childrens books. Not millenia old poems about warriors fighting monsters.”

Jaune snorted. “My parents are not most parents.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “I can tell. Alright, continue.”

“When I was five, I started reading it by myself. I only had the first part, so I just read it over and over. My Dad bought me the rest of it, and I read that over and over. I actually would bring all three parts to school in my backpack. It was so heavy, my back started to hurt. So to stop me from getting permanent back issues, on my 9th birthday, my parents gave me this.” He picked up the book from Pyrrha’s lap. He looked at the cover, seemingly hypnotized by the shiny drawing.

“This is a collectors edition version of the whole poem. That’s why it’s so big, it’s all three parts of the story.”

“It looks amazing, Jaune.”

“I don’t know how many times I’ve read this whole poem. I’ve read it front to back, back to front. I’ve gone online and read analyses about it. I translated a part of it to Octavian (latin) once as a project. At one point, I even started writing essays about it in my spare time.”

Pyrrha was extremely surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. I had to do an essay about it in middle school. I started and finished it in two days. I had to revise it twice because I kept going over the word limit.”

“Brothers, Jaune.”

“Yeah…”

They fell into a comfortable silence. Jaune felt a bit embarrassed. He liked writing, sue him. At least she didn’t see the typewriter he had under his bed. Or his journals. His many, many, journals.

Nobody could know about those.

Pyrrha then broke the silence. “Can I read it?”

“Of course. Let me clean up, this room is a mess.”

“Thank you beloved.” She gave him a chaste kiss, then opened the book.

As Pyrrha began reading, Jaune looked around the room for things to clean. Dirty clothes (how did he forget to put those away before he left?), music magazines, comic books, and… his bible.

Well, his grandma’s bible to be precise. It was white, covered with a thick layer of dust. He hasn’t read any religious text in a while. His mind swirled with memories. Memories of reading with his grandparents. Memories of church, of sermons. Memories of prayer, and chanting. But his thoughts were interrupted by a sound most horrible.

RIP

His mind went blank. His vision, going dark.

Pyrrha was horrified. How could she do this? Ripping one of her beloved’s most prized possessions, after he most graciously gave it to her to read. What was wrong with her? She had to apologize. But before she could even mutter the words “I’m sorry,” she heard something fall to the ground.

THUMP

She looked up to see Jaune standing before his bookcase, completely still. There was a white book near his feet.

“Jaune? Jaune, are you okay?”

No response.

“Beloved?”

Jaune turned around, and started walking towards the bed.

“Jaune, I didn’t mean to tear your book. I’m so sorry.”

Jaune got his knees on his bed. He took the book out of her hands, and put it on the nightstand to the right of his bed.

“Jaune, are you okay? I’m sor-MMMMMPH?! MMMmmm, mmmmhhh~.”

All thoughts had left Pyrrha’s head, as she was pulled in for a searing kiss! Jaune had her pinned, holding her hands above her head. He wasn’t usually this forward in his affection. Jaune was a shy lover, always nervous, always asking. Today, however, he wasn’t asking, he just took. And Pyrrha didn’t mind that one bit.

Hours later…

Jaune woke up sweaty. His head was pounding. What happened? All he could remember was giving Pyrrha The Great Hunt, then cleaning up his room, then… nothing. It was dark out now. How long has he been out? He looked down on himself, and noticed something. He was naked. Completely naked. He gave a shriek of surprise, and then something to the right of him moved.

“Beloved… Just five more minutes…”

It was Pyrrha, also naked, completely passed out. She was a mess. Her hair was out of its usual ponytail. She was sweaty, and breathing heavily. And she was covered in… fluids…

What the hell happened?

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #arkos

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separatist-apologist · 1 year

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Red Earth & Pouring Rain

Remember what we found? No one can ever take that away. Something forever.

Summary: When Feyre's father tries to set her up with one of his high society friends' sons, Feyre does the only thing that makes sense in the moment: she fakes a Scottish fiánce. Writing him letters detailing her escapades, Feyre never expects anyone to read them. But when a mysterious uncle leaves her and her sisters three scattered castles, Feyre's forgotten fiánce appears on her doorstep, determined to make an honest woman of her yet.

Or- that time Rhys fell in love with a stranger writing him letters.

Big thanks to Unhinged Bookclub for help with the moodboard and @the-lonelybarricade for being my UK consultant (which consisted mostly of me asking about swear words)

Part 1/2: I've Got Something Burning, Coursing Through These Cold Veins | Read on AO3

Dear Rhysand Campbell-

Today is my sixteenth birthday, which ought to be cause for celebration. I want to be happy about it, but I’m not and I can’t tell anyone. My sisters already think I’m terribly spoiled and my father probably would, too, if he ever cared enough to notice me. Ugh, that sounded spoiled, too. Maybe they’re right. I don’t suppose you understand.

Of course you don’t. You aren’t real. And I guess there’s no danger in telling you about this miserable birthday party (if you could even call it that) or worrying you’ll think I’m spoiled and a miserable brat (like my older sister accused me of) (don’t worry, I pulled out one of her extensions in front of Tomas Mandray which…in retrospect…maybe proved her right on the miserable brat front. It was pretty funny, though. Even Elain cracked a smile.).

It all started with my father. He woke up one morning a month ago, looked me straight in the face, and asked me how old I was. I didn’t know what to say (I might have forgotten), so Elain told him I would be sixteen in a month. And he said we should celebrate, which made me so happy. I rattled off a list of things I wanted to do, and I thought he was listening.

I should have known he wasn’t when he put Elain in charge of planning. It’s not that Elain is malicious, she’s just…prim. Perfect, really. The sort of daughter he actually wants, I think because she doesn’t make a lot of fuss and maintains his calendar for him like mother used to (she died when I was nine).

And I definitely should have known we were NOT going camping when Elain had me measured for a dress. She looked so apologetic and I couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings when I know she’s trying really hard to fill the gap mom left when it comes to me, even if it makes her spineless when it comes to dad. And I could have asked Nesta to ruin it, but I guess I’m a little spineless, too.

So by the time the day arrived, it’s this huge party for all of dads friends, one of whom is running for parliament and needs money. And I look so very stupid in a floor length ball gown and—I am not joking—a jeweled tiara while all these old men in their fifties whore themselves out for cash. There was a cake (five tiers and chocolate, which is my favorite flavor, at least), there was singing, and of course the aforementioned incident in which several of Nesta’s extensions were pulled from her head unceremoniously.

Some leering prick told me I was a woman now. Well, he said it to my breasts, not really me. What is it about men that makes them think that’s a normal thing to do? Am I supposed to be flattered? Elain whisked me away, a smile plastered on her face and when I asked her how she stands it, she only laughed and said, “Oh Feyre.” Like I was the silliest person in the world.

She looked like a princess, and I don’t envy her for it. Every man our father is friends with is trying to trick or trap her into marriage. I think she could be a princess like Kate Middleton if she had the interest.

Anyway.

Father made some grand speech right before the cake cutting, where he talked about peace and, for some unknown reason, Brexit. He also thanked God for our monarchs, which, I didn’t realize he was that religious but I guess for this crowd, he is.

You know what he didn’t do? Say thank you for his daughters? Imagine, blessing Charles but not the daughters who enrich his life. Nesta was gripping a steak knife so tightly I thought she might actually stab him and Elain’s eyes were glassy and sad, even with that plastered smile.

And despite how Nesta thinks I’m a miserable brat, she DID stand up and demand everyone sing me happy birthday. And Elain led everyone in an off-key rendition of the song, which was nice. Serving staff cut the cake, and there were, of course, no candles.

Happy sixteenth birthday to me.

And at the very end of the night, some lord (I think—honestly, I wasn’t even listening at that point, I was just thinking about getting those miserable shoes off my feet) told father that his son was single, and also sixteen. I could see father's interest peak and I can’t be like Elain. She’s always letting those awful boys take her on dates, and they always make her cry. So I blurted out,

“Actually, I have a boyfriend.”

Father asked who, but already he didn’t care. So I said the most made-up, Scottish name I could think of—Rhysand Campbell. Maybe you do exist, somewhere. Actually, there are probably hundreds of you, though who's counting? What’s important is that YOU, Rhysand Campbell, are not real and this address is to a post office in the middle of nowhere Scotland. I expect it’ll be shredded. Perhaps the mail worker will read it and have a laugh at my expense.

Still.

Thank you for saving me tonight.

All the best,

Feyre Archeron

Dearest Rhysand–

I didn’t think I’d write to you again, but I think I have to confess my lies, and you are the only person I know who won’t judge me.

Of course, you’re fake, but in my mind you’ve become a little real. Everyone wants to know how we met, and if you’re curious why they would ever want to know that, well, you are very convenient. You see, most girls my age want to date. And in some ways, so do I. There are some very handsome boys, nice boys, even.

But none of my family approves of. If they found out I slept with Isaac Hale, I think they might actually kill me. He’s a fishmonger, which is a very real job thank you very much. It only sounds fake and like something from an eighteenth century book because of the word monger. Which made me laugh the first time I heard it. Anyway, I thought maybe it was better to just get things over with, and he really was so nice that I just…kept going back.

He has a girlfriend now, and I’m trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt my feelings a little. Even though I know I could never bring him home. Nesta would sneer and call him smelly and Elain…well, Elain would probably be nice but her eyes would be pitying. So maybe it’s for the best.

I’m sidetracked again.

So Isaac has his girlfriend from Milton Keynes, which I am absolutely NOT jealous of, even if her eyebrows made her look insane. I admit, I was brooding which Elain says is going to give me frown lines around my mouth. And of course father took that moment to stroll in and say he knew just the thing that would cheer me up.

That thing??? A MAN. In what world has a man’s presence ever made a woman feel better? Even Elain turned her head to roll her eyes, thinking no one saw. Nesta was in a mood, though I didn’t ask why—I don’t care, so long as she keeps yelling at father on my behalf. She told him seventeen was too young to worry about marriage, which made him remember that Elain is nineteen and Nesta is twenty-one, so I suppose we’ll all be dealing with that fall out later.

But the Lord of Rose-something-or-other has a son. Tamlin? Timothy? I was not paying attention. What I did say, was, “You know I’m dating someone already. I’ve told you all about him.”

I probably could have gotten away with that if Nesta and Elain weren’t in the room. We talk more frequently and they’ve never once heard me say your name. Of course Elain was fascinated, and Nesta was suspicious. Father is far easier to gaslight.

“Ah, yes,” he said, that liar. “Remind me, who’s son is he?”

And I said, of course, that you were no one’s son, but just a regular Scottish man.

Nesta, that traitor, narrowed her eyes. He can always tell when I’m lying. “Oh? How did you meet this London-living Scotsman?”

Murdering your sisters is a crime. I’m saying that as a reminder to myself, because if she invented a fake suitor to get father to leave her alone, I would have gone along with it. So I said we met in a tea shop. I made you charming. I said you saw me from across the room and couldn’t help yourself. In this fictional meet-cute, you were enamored at first sight, and I, of course, believed you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen (I did not mention that because I was talking to my father).

That was important, because NO ONE thinks that about me. They think it about Elain, who is so beautiful it makes my teeth ache, and they might think it about Nesta if her eyes didn’t promise violence all the time. But not me. And I have mostly made my peace with it, but it would be nice if there was one man who didn’t prefer my sisters to me.

Even if I have to make him up in order for that to happen.

He told me to invite you to dinner. Please, oh please, Rhysand Campbell, will you do me the honor of dining with my dysfunctional family? Father will want to know all about your father, and if your family could be of use to him and his shipping business. And Nesta will hate you on principle alone, while Elain won’t be able to help but like you.

Of course I like you, if only because you are not real.

It’s a shame you can’t make it because you’re heading back to Edinburgh to take care of a sick relative. You’re so compassionate, so selfless. This is why I like you.

Thank you (again) for rescuing me. Too bad you’re just me, rescuing myself,

Your beloved,

Ferye Archeron

Darling Rhysand,

Last names are formality by now, don’t you think? I’ve officially taken things too far. The nice thing about being overlooked is everyone kind of forgets what you’re doing (or that you exist), which means you and I have been happily dating for the last two and a half years. If I go out with someone else, no one questions it because they assume I’m seeing you.

And no one cares that they haven’t met you, because you’re some nobody they assume I’ll eventually tire of. Which would be all well and good if I hadn’t blurted out, in front of god and EVERYONE, that you asked me to marry you. Let me set the scene:

I panicked.

Okay, I guess I didn’t need to set much at all. It was another party and as you can guess, I was in another stupid dress. Have you ever seen Gone With the Wind? You know those kinds of dresses? That’s how I feel, no matter how sleek and lovely the dress actually is. And I know I look perfectly fine in them, but I feel out of sorts. Like a doll, like someone who LIKES when men stare down my dress despite their wife right beside them, and tell me I’m beautiful.

They never say that when they’re looking at my face.

Anyway, do you remember Tamlin? Well, he’s a baron and his father and an MP, despite having so much money he doesn’t need to work (I suspect he just misses when the nobility could boss around the english populace), and he is quite taken with me. Rhys (can I call you Rhys? I feel like since you proposed I could probably call you that), he’s actually really handsome, too. The first time I saw him, I almost considered breaking things off with you. No hard feelings, of course, it’s just…you’re not real.

But he’s duller than dry paint. BEIGE dry paint. We have nothing to talk about, and believe me, I’ve tried. I thought if I could get him to talk to me for even thirty minutes, we could get naked.

But it’s like pulling my own teeth, dragging answers out of this man.

And, between you and me, he once told me “your hair looks clean” as a compliment. He couldn’t even lie and say I was pretty? So you and I continue our romance, implausible as it is. Tamlin’s father was saying how handsome we’d be, and Tamlin jumped in to ask me on a very public date and I am a coward, I think.

Because I said, “Rhysand proposed.”

And Nesta burst out laughing, the bint. It was Elain, eyes brimming with hope and pleasure—she so badly wants to see one of us do whatever we like, father be damned—who asked to see the ring.

Of which there isn’t one. So I’ve made you poor, I’m so sorry. I lied and said you didn’t have one, because you were working toward affording something nice and of course I don’t care about it (because I don’t). Father demanded to meet you and Tamlin was humiliated (a silver lining to this whole affair, truly).

Any reasonable person would have just confessed the whole plot right then and there. But I am not reasonable, my darling fiance. I am, I think, a little crazy because I slipped out the next morning and purchased a ring myself from Boodles, and since I bought it, it was perfect. Nothing terribly fussy—a sapphire cut in the shape of a diamond, with little diamonds haloed overtop, like falling stars. Set on a delicate silver band, it really is quite lovely.

I showed father, who was rather impressed with it. I lied and said it had belonged to your mother, who was so overjoyed at the thought of getting a daughter that she solved your ring dilemma on the spot.

It doesn’t fix the problem of everyone wanting to meet you, of course.

Our engagement is going to be short lived, I think—just as soon as I can figure out what to do next. If I’m not careful, I’ll be saying I eloped and then what?

What then, indeed.

Yours, faithfully,

Ferye

Rhys,

Well.

It’s officially over. Why am I so sad? You were never anything more than a figment of my imagination, and yet telling my family you had ended things drew real tears from me. Elain comforted me, and Nesta called you a self-serving asshole, which is her way of assuring me she loves me. Father, of course, just barely remembered you existed despite the ring I’ve been wearing for a full year. I tucked it in a box as a token of how far I’m willing to commit to a lie (and because it was pretty expensive, and I don’t think I can return it).

Even though you’re fake, I didn’t have the heart to make you an asshole. I said your mother had become gravely ill and you had to care for her. That it was with your deepest regrets you ended things—that you thought I deserved someone who could be in London fully, and you would always regret me.

Nesta called it “typical male bullshit,” so I suppose she believes me now. Or she’s willing to pretend, given how sad I am. I’m mostly sad that I think I should probably stop writing to you. I’m twenty, now, and I think it’s time to stop indulging in my fantasies and be real. I’m nearly finished with school, and I should devote more time to paintings.

And besides, Elain is practically engaged, which has taken the pressure of marriage off Nesta and I, for now. Lord Graysen Nolan. How I wish you were real, because you would think he was a total twat, too. Nesta begrudgingly tolerates him because Elain is so head over heels, but he is awful. A scourge, a plague upon mankind and CERTAINLY upon my beautiful sister. He’s going to dump her in some ancient country estate, fill her with babies, and crush her into dirt and she can’t even see it.

He is handsome and charming, though, and he has my sister wrapped around his finger. I think it’s because he doesn’t think she’s beautiful—though, I think he says so in his effort to break her down. She is so used to everyone finding her impossibly lovely that the first man who insults her is worthy of her heart.

I’m rambling again. Anyway, this is my official break-up, fake boyfriend slash fiance. I have loved you, though you never existed. You were the perfect man (because you were fake), and I’m not sure how any others will compare. Maybe I’ll try boring Tamlin again.

What’s funny is that we could have been together, if you’d been actually real. Some dead uncle gifted my sisters and I three castles—one apiece—and mine is in the Scottish highlands. Isn’t that wild? He was my mothers uncle, so technically an uncle twice removed? I’m not sure how that works, honestly. But in his will, he left us each a castle in need of repair to do with as we like. Elain has dreams of turning hers (of course it’s located in the English countryside) into a charming bed and breakfast while Nesta wants to live in it as, and this is a direct quote, “the local bog witch all the children are afraid of.”

As for me, well…I’m not entirely sure what to do with it. I intend to go visit at the end of the month with my paints to see if inspiration might strike. I admit, I’m curious about a real life castle—maybe I will start a farm and remove myself from society instead. Everyone will ask (no one would, because that would require remembering I exist, but lets pretend they would), “What ever happened to Feyre Archeron?”

And my father would be forced to tell them I own a multitude of cows. All of which are named—and perhaps even treated like my children. Who can say? I am not sure if I’m cut out for livestock, or farming or even castle living. Maybe I’ll make it a museum or something else that requires little effort on my part.

The caveat seems to be fixing it up. I can do that, I suppose.

This whole letter is rambling. It is supposed to be me telling you goodbye, and putting this whole messy affair behind me. Thank you for being my only friend, which I recognize is pathetic. I hope the postal worker who has been reading these takes pity on my plight, however pathetic it was.

I will think of you fondly.

Yours, forever,

Feyre

Feyre wiped her nose on the back of her hand, breathing rather hard for someone who was in decently good shape. Six months since she’d moved to the highlands, thinking replacing the inner workings of a centuries old castle would be easy. Replace the plumbing and the floors, rework the electric, and fix the broken glass and she’d be done.

If only. Every day there was some new, horrible discovery. Bats in the attic and rodents in the cellar. A crumbling foundation that had to be nearly rebuilt. A leaking roof that flooded water into the great hall, which then ruined all the flooring Feyre had installed, causing it to be ripped up and replaced again.

It cost a small fortune before the sprawling structure was decent enough to sleep in, let alone live in. And though she had her uncles inheritance to go along with fixing the god forsaken castle. Of course, that money was only for castle repair, and was just barely enough. She’d used her fathers money, too, a paltry sum given just how much of it he had to give away when it was for one of his friends or some do-nothing politician looking to cut taxes in a way that personally benefited her father.

Feyre also considered she was far luckier than Elain, who’s castle came with a rather surly occupant that swore he also owned the castle—and after a little digging through legal records, was found to be correct. Feyre would have lost it if she had to compromise at all.

Except, now she had a nearly finished castle she had no idea what to do with. As it turned out, Feyre did not have the aptitude for farming like she’d hoped, and rather missed living in the city—though, she didn’t miss London. She missed people, and things to do, but not London itself.

There were enough rooms to turn it into a hotel, like Elain was considering. Feyre also thought it made a rather nice venue for people looking to host events or get married. The view of the Scottish highlands was breathtaking, and the castle itself was really nice. Stone on the outside, mostly modern on the inside. Full, working plumbing so long as no one shoved too much toilet paper into the drains, claw baths, and big, four poster beds in circular rooms overlooking the hillside. There was a full, working kitchen Ferye had never used, a ballroom, a grand hall, dungeons—anything a person might want, if she could only figure out how to market it.

It was just a passing idea. For now, Feyre was living in it with a small, paid staff to keep herself fed and the bats from sneaking back in.

It was pure privilege to spend her days painting, and yet Feyre felt like she’d earned it. Without her father and his obnoxious social circle breathing down her neck, she could run wild like she’d always wanted to. She had a little hammock in the courtyard she frequently fell asleep in, a barbeque she’d spent an exorbitant amount on only to use twice, and was even considering digging out a pool. Why not? Who could stop her?

No one.

She’d have to go back eventually—home, that was. Her father’s calls were becoming more frequent and becoming more annoyed. All three of his daughters had just vanished, leaving him to manage his own life for once. Who was he going to build life-long alliances with if he couldn’t move Feyre and Nesta around like pawns.

Elain was all but sold to the Nolans, if the ugly engagement ring Graysen had given Elain was any indication. Feyre supposed she’d have to come home for that tragedy. Sometimes Feyre wondered if Elain wasn’t dragging out the business with her castle in an attempt to avoid wedding planning.

Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Feyre woke that warm, summer morning like she did every day. Breakfast was waiting in the small dining room on the main floor—a simple fare of sausage, beans, and toast. She dressed, braided her hair in a long, french tail, and gathered her art supplies, intending to make her way to the furthest point on the grounds.

Outside the heavy, rounded doors lay a neat stone path meant to feel old, though it was very modern. She’d watched the workers lay it herself. And standing at the very end of it, dressed in a black shirt and a blue and green plaid kilt, was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His dark, blue black hair ruffled in the wind, while eyes so blue they seemed nearly violet, stared openly at her.

She saw plenty of Scotsmen, given she was in Scotland. And yet there was something about this man, with his toned shins clad in high, black socks and his tall, powerful body, that gave her pause. She could see the hint of ink just above his knees and the curve of his neck, and when Feyre looked back to his face, his mouth was curved into a sensual smile.

“Feyre Archeron?” he asked with a rich, dark accent.

Feyre cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s she—I ah—I mean, that’s me.”

His smile widened. “Aye, ye are, aren’t ye?”

She blinked. “Can I help you with something, Mr…?”

He chuckled, placing a broad hand against his muscular chest. “Ma apologies. I’m Rhysand Campbell.”

A soft scream escaped Feyre’s lips. “Liar.”

He took a step toward her, reaching into the leather sporran hanging from his waist. Feyre couldn’t breathe, watching in horror as he pulled a stack of letters out and offered them to her.

She didn’t take them, shaking her head back and forth. “Prove it.”

He was still grinning, reaching for his wallet. Feyre’s hands shook when he pulled out a license, proving he was exactly who he said he was.

“How…?”

“Did ye think there was no one in all of Dornoch with the name Campbell? It’s quite common a last name.”

Feyre’s heart was mere seconds from jumping out of her chest.

“It was luck I happened to be named Rhysand.”

“Luck,” she repeated, looking skyward. “All those years and you never thought to write back/”

He merely shrugged, taking back his license from her shaking fingers. “At first? It was charming. I figured ye’d stop eventually. Ye wrote a lot of things.”

“Oh, I get it,” Ferye said stiffly. Prick.

“I’m sure ye don’t,” he replied with that insufferable smile.

“No, I do. You got my letters, figured out who my father was, and now you’re here for money. Is that it, Mr. Campbell?”

“Not quite,” he replied, coming closer still.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“Where’s tae ring, darling?” he all but purred. Ice slithered through Feyre’s veins, her eyes landing back on those letters. She’d spent three years writing to him, pouring out her secrets, venting about her family…and telling him all about their nonexistent romance. At best, Ferye had imagined an elderly postal woman reading those letters with a mixture of pity and amusement before tossing them. Never, in her wildest dreams, did she imagine that an actual man was reading what she wrote.

“It’s here, isn’t it?” he pressed, those eyes flashing with delight. “Sentimental, lass.”

Feyre shook her head again. “No. Absolutely not. Send father those letters—”

“And Nesta? Or Elain?” he pressed, preventing Feyre from turning on her heel and leaving him standing in the garden looking foolish. “What about them, hm? What do ye think they’d think of yer scathing assessment of them?”

Feyre exhaled. “What is it that you want? A sham engagement?”

“Oh, a wee bit more than that. I’ve come to claim my wife.”

“You don’t even know me,” Feyre protested, wondering if she ought to just call the police. He was blackmailing her—into marriage, for a purpose she couldn’t ascertain.

“We’re in love,” he said, some of his smile fading just a little.

“So I’m supposed to, what, exactly? Call up my father and tell him—”

“The engagement is back on,” he interrupted, closer still. She could smell him, then—like citrus and the sea, washing over her with the warm morning breeze. Rhysand blotted out the sun with his large body, peering down at her with enough intensity to make her uncomfortable. “And we’re in love.”

“Lies.”

“Ye should be verra familiar with that, darling,” he replied, an edge to his voice.

Feyre ran a hand down her face. “For how long?”

He shrugged. “Who could say?”

Prick prick prick!

“A marriage built upon the foundation of blackmail. You are too charming, Mr. Campbell.”

“Just as ye always imagined,” he replied with a wicked grin. “Now. Are ye going to invite me in? Or do I have to beg?”

“Why not?” Feyre grumbled, eyeing those letters. Rhysand caught her, offering them up again.

“Take them. It’s not like I didnae make copies.”

Still, Feyre snatched them from him all the same, holding them close to her chest. She’d hoped she might undo this mess simply by throwing them away and thus, removing his leverage. In truth, were Rhysand ever to show her father her letters, it would merely force him to pay attention to her. Elain and Nesta would forgive her, with time.

But the idea of her father knowing just how much she loathed him, all while craving his validation and approval, was too much for her pride to handle. It was enough to make her think that, perhaps, this wasn’t such an awful idea. If she could set some hard rules, having a ne’er-do-well for a husband kept her from ever having to get married to someone awful.

Like Tamlin, who still sent the occasional too-formal text inquiring after her help.

And this man was hot. Surely he knew it, too, if that wide smile and the way he kept running his hand down his chest was any indication. How long could he tolerate her? How long before he realized his new wife had no intention of sleeping with him, of showing him any affection?

He couldn’t blackmail her into sex—even Feyre had her limits and had to assume he did too.

Or hope, anyway. The bar was in hell, even for a man who’d shown up on her doorstep and declared his intention to marry her.

She forced a smile on her face. “Right this way, Lord Campbell.”

His smile vanished. “I preferred when ye were calling me Rhys. All my friends do. My wife should, too.”

“I’m not your wife yet,” Feyre reminded him. “My sisters are going to be so thrilled. Elain will want to throw an engagement party, and father—”

“Elope,” he said, stepping through the threshold with big, wide eyes. “I’m not going to London for a wedding.”

“Your wife is from London,” Feyre reminded him through gritted teeth. “You’ll have to visit them eventually.”

“Why? Invite them here. Surely there’s space.”

Feyre whirled on her heel, smacking straight into the hard plain of his chest. Rhysand reached for her arms, steadying her with a soft chuckle. “Careful, lass.”

“Let me get this straight. You will make no concessions in this sham marriage? Because, despite what you’ve imagined, blackmailing is a crime and my father has a lot of money.”

“Do ye want to go back to London?” he asked patiently, one perfectly groomed brow arched. As if he already knew the answer to that. As if he knew Feyre would have done anything to stay exactly where she was—far from London, far from her father and his circle of friends. Feyre crossed her arms over her chest, hating how smug he looked.

“It will be an actual wedding. And you will invite yer family—”

“I have none,” he interrupted, a shadow crossing his handsome expression. Feyre faltered.

“Friends?”

A soft smile. “Aye. Friends I do have.”

“Okay. Then friends. And you will keep your hands to yourself the entire time. Separate beds. Separate lives.”

He clenched his jaw for a moment before nodding. “Aye. I can do that. Any other demands ye have?”

“Once we’re married, I want you to burn those letters,” Feyre said, feeling suddenly small and vulnerable. “I’ll—marriages are not so easily undone.”

“And how do I know ye won’t back out tae moment they’re gone?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

She considered pleading with him. Was it not enough, she wanted to ask, to make her go through with this? That he knew things about her she’d never wanted anyone to know? He couldn’t let her forget it? Feyre took a deep breath and willed herself not to cry. Not in front of him.

“Very well,” she said, trying her hardest to channel Nesta’s icy disdain. “Let me just—”

She turned, and he caught her by the arm, spinning her around. “Give me a reason to trust ye, lass, and I’ll destroy them.”

“And will you be giving me a reason to trust you?” she asked, wrenching her arm from his grasp.

“I could have gone straight to ye father. Shown him what ye did, demanded he pay me to keep quiet. I came to ye, instead. I don’t want yer money, Feyre. Just…”

“My home,” she finished with a sigh.

“Aye,” he agreed solemnly. “A castle that belongs to Scottish blood, not the English.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” she snapped.

“Tae only way,” he murmured, and despite the softness of his tone, it was clear he didn’t care for disagreement. Feyre dug the heel of her hand into her eyes and sighed loudly.

“Call him,” Rhys said, nodding toward her shorts and the phone outline in the tight fabric. “Tell him the good news.”

“He will never accept you as a son.”

Rhys only shrugged. “As long as his daughter loves me.”

“She doesn’t,” Feyre snapped, but it didn’t matter. She pulled out her phone and dialed.

Took a breath. And then.

“Dad? It’s me, Feyre.”

-*-

Living with Rhysand was a mixture of insufferable and tolerable in equal measure. The castle was sprawling, big enough that for the first day, she didn’t see him at all. She’d instructed the staff to serve him and slipped that ring back on her finger in order to keep up appearances. Absurd, given any truly happy couple reuniting might have spent that first night locked in bed together, and Feyre had very much shut her bedroom door with the letters Rhysand had given and begun to pour through them.

They were worse than she imagined. Not only had she complained about her family, she’d divulged personal secrets, told him about her hopes, her dreams. She’d sent him sketches, she’d told him about the people in her fathers social circle, along with all the most embarrassing and hilarious gossip. Things that Rhysand could have sent to a trash magazine and humiliated half of London with.

She’d treated those letters like a diary, never thinking there was a real man on the other end. Feyre couldn’t sleep that first night.

Or the second.

She did sleep the third, but only because Elain had promised to come down that weekend, delighted to meet the man she’d heard so much about. Nesta had sent back only three words.

Are you sure?

If Nesta came, she’d see straight through Feyre, so Feyre supposed she ought to be grateful Nesta was embroiled in some kind of property dispute with her castle and a local reenactor who took to staging battles of Scottish victory over the English on her front lawn with loud enthusiasm. Feyre suspected Elain was rather happy to escape for a bit, and might soften Rhysand ever so slightly.

And maybe if he realized there were more interesting Archerons, he might take to courting Elain instead of insisting with the sham wedding. Not that Elain would ever agree to it, but…men had always gravitated toward her. Feyre thought Rhysand simply wouldn’t be able to help himself.

On the fourth day, Feyre slipped back through the castle, lugging her art supplies in a canvas bag with her. She expected the grounds to be empty, that Rhysand would be inside lording about her staff like some kind of king.

She heard the sound of wood splitting in the courtyard before she saw him.

Shirtless, in that kilt and the same black socks, rolled halfway down his shins from sweat and exertion. He’d found an ax and with a mighty swing of his powerful biceps, brought it screaming onto a block of wood.

Feyre couldn’t take her eyes off the slick, taut muscles of his stomach, his back, tattooed in dark whorls of ink. Rhysand seemed far too pretty to do any sort of manual labor, which brought Feyre back to the present.

Though, he’d absolutely caught her ogling him. He halted, pushing one booted foot up onto the heavy stump he was using to split wood while using the hem of his kilt to wipe at his forehead. “What are you doing?” she demanded. Didn’t he know she paid someone to bring in firewood? Besides, there was heating the castle—she’d also paid for that.

“Chopping wood,” he replied, his eyes sliding to the neat stack at his feet. His tone was polite, though perhaps annoyed. As if he really wanted to say, what does it look like I’m doing?

“I pay someone to do that.”

“Of course ye do, lass,” he said with relish. “I don’t see why—I am more than capable of helping.”

Feyre hesitated. “You want to help?”

“Aye.” He frowned. “What did ye think I was gonna do? Sit around waving my hands like some kind of fancy lord?”

“Yes, actually—that’s exactly what I thought.”

“I already told ye. I don’t want yer money.”

Yes, he had said this, hadn’t he? Feyre sniffed. “Fine. You want chores? There are bats in the attic again.”

He offered her a handsome smile. Coupled with the bright sunshine and his warm, brown skin, Feyre’s knees wobbled a little. Why couldn’t he look disgusting? Her traitor body had not gotten the message that they hated him.

“I can do that,” he said. “And anything else ye have for me.”

“I’ll make a list,” she said tartly.

But later, when Feyre was alone with nothing but her thoughts and her canvas, all she could think about was Rhysand, midswing over that block of wood. She thought of the tight expression on his face and the controlled movements of his body.

And even though she hated herself for it, she reached for a piece of charcoal.

And began to sketch.

-*-

Elain arrived at the end of the first week of Rhysand’s arrival. True to word, Rhysand had done every chore Feyre had left for him without complaint. He’d cleared out the bats and fixed several burnt light bulbs, digging out a ladder from god only knew where. And when he ran out of things to do, he turned his attention to the dilapidated stables Feyre had never bothered with. In truth, she’d always meant to tear them down.

It seemed Rhysand meant to fix them up.

He was out there when Elain swanned in, tan from a summer outdoors in the English countryside. She grinned the moment she saw Feyre, throwing her arms around her sister's neck.

“It’s so good to see you,” Elain said, squeezing tight enough to make Feyre’s ribs ache. “How are you holding up?”

“Me? How are you holding up?” Feyre asked, pulling away to search her sister's expression. A faint blush bloomed over Elain’s cheeks.

“Well—I’m, well, I’m perfectly lovely, if we’re being honest.”

“Oh?” Feyre asked.

Elain held up her hand, wiggling bare fingers while Feyre just stared. “You got your nails done?”

“You’re so terribly observant. I’ve called off my engagement—just in time for you to be married. I’ve come to see if you want any of the things we put deposits on, so they don’t go to waste.”

“You—what?” Feyre gaped, realizing only then Elain was trying to show her a hand without an engagement ring. “What happened?”

Elain only shrugged, though more pink crept up her neck. “It wasn’t right. I was…I was deluding myself, I think. It doesn’t matter, because I know you hated him, so you don’t have to pretend. I’ve brought pictures so you can see everything, and it would be no trouble to have it all brought here for you. I know how much you hate planning,” Elain added brightly. “I only wish I could be more helpful.”

“This is already too helpful,” Feyre said, pulling her sister through the open hall toward the spiraling stairs that led both to the left and the right. Elain drank it all in as the skirt of her buttery yellow sundress swished around her legs. She looked every inch a princess, and it took no effort at all to imagine her walking these halls four hundred years before while poets and bards sang songs about her beauty.

“Are you going to introduce me to your husband?” she asked, looping her arm through Feyre’s. “I’ve always wanted to meet him. Nesta used to swear you made him up and I told her you’d never do such a thing. It’s nice to prove her wrong sometimes.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed. “He’s working on the stables. I’ll take you to him.”

This would be the moment of truth. Rhysand would see her and realize his mistake, just as all men did. He wouldn’t be able to look away—and Elain seemed radiant that morning, glowing like the midafternoon sun beating overhead. Her golden blonde hair was perfectly curled, a cascade over her slim shoulders while a set of pearls graced her ears. She’d put on make-up, which Feyre never did, and had the air of someone both effortless and yet unattainable.

The same air Rhysand had, if Feyre was being honest. They’d make a smart couple. Why did that thought annoy her so much?

Feyre led Elain over the grounds slowly, giving her a tour and pointing out all the work she’d done while Elain explained how her bed and breakfast was going. She’d created a tentative peace with the other occupant and owner of her castle—a man with a distinctly French sounding last name and decidedly French first one. Lucien Vanserra. He sounded snooty, and given the difficulty he’d created for Elain, likely some seventy year old man looking to exert his control one last time before his time on earth ended.

“Oh, he’s not so bad once you get to know him,” Elain said, which was a very Elain sort of thing to say. She could charm a wild bear holding a sword. If the man had eyes, it likely hadn’t been hard to talk him into a small compromise.

Rhysand was coming out of the stables as Feyre and Elain began to walk in. He didn’t see them approaching as he mopped up the sweat on his brow with the hem of his shirt. Feyre’s breathe caught at the sight of peeking abs, vanished the second he saw Elain. His eyes slid from her sister back to Feyre, some answered question flickering in his gaze.

“Elain, this is Rhysand,” Feyre told Elain just in time for her sister to plant her foot in a wet container of wood stain.

Elain screeched, yanking herself backward. Her lovely white flat was ruined, which was a shame, truly—though Rhysand? wasn’t looking at Elain at all, but Feyre. His expression very much betrayed his annoyance, some shared secret she didn’t quite understand, as if to say oh. I understand now.

“I’m so sorry,” Elain said, looking at the mess pooling around them.

“No need,” Rhysand replied, though there was some disappointment in his tone. “I was going to do tae floor as well.”

“Of course. Probably not like this, though,” Elain replied with a small laugh.

Rhysand only nodded, looking back to Feyre for some guidance. But it was Elain who was the conversationalist, and when she realized he didn’t know what to say, pressed forward. “How is your mother?”

Oh, christ. Feyre had forgotten that lie, amid the others. Rhysand became rigid for a moment, haunted by Elain’s ask. “She passed, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” Elain whispered. Rhysand only nodded, his jaw tight with emotion. So that had been true, in some way. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not yer fault,” Rhysand murmured. “But I miss her.”

Elain nodded. “Well,” she said, wiping her hands on her dress nervously. “We should ah, probably let you get back to…”

“I’ll see ye both at dinner,” he replied, offering up his most charming smile. And that was that. Elain, holding her shoe by the crook of one finger, waited until they were out of earshot before she said, “You really undersold how handsome he was.”

And when Feyre turned to look over her shoulder, she found Rhysand leaning against the wooden door frame, eyes wholly on her.

It was that night that both Feyre and Rhysand seemed to realize they could not sleep apart in opposite wings of the castle. Elain had made some little quip about how nice it must be to have all this alone time and Rhysand’s fork had clattered to his plate while Feyre’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

He’d come to her, at least. Feyre sat up against a sea of pillows when she heard him knock, sucking in a deep breath.

“Come in.”

A moment later, the handle turned and there he was. He’d put on plain black sleep pants and a white t-shirt, and his still damp hair told her she’d just freshly showered. If she’d been smart, Feyre would have dragged a divan up from another room so he could sleep on it. As it stood, there were two little chairs facing a small breakfast table and then her rather large, four-poster bed.

And Rhys was a tall man. He looked around, drinking in the cream colored rug and the sand and stone walls, illuminated by an overhanging chandelier. A little potted plant sat half dead in the circular window at the far end of the room, while books were stacked on beneath the television stand haphazardly.

“I’m not sleeping on tae floor,” he told her when he realized their predicament.

“I assumed,” she replied, scooting to the far side of the bed. “No touching.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a theatrical eye roll. As he padded toward her, he asked, “How long will she be here?”

“The weekend,” Feyre replied, trying—and failing—not to notice how good he smelled. “Why?”

“She’s not what I imagined,” he finally said, dragging a hand through his hair with contemplation.

Feyre immediately felt defensive. “She has that effect on people.”

He frowned. “Oh? And what effect do ye imagine she’s having on me?”

“She’s just very…”

“Verra…” he prompted, waiting for Feyre to spit it out. “Dull?”

“What?” Ferye gaped. “She’s not dull.”

“Proper, then. A real English princess,” he amended.

It was asking for pain, and still Feyre couldn’t help herself. “Then what does that make me?”

He smiled again, his face blooming with warm affection. “Wild. Free,” he added, thinking to himself for a moment, as if he needed to choose his words carefully lest he insult her. “Ye are far more lovely than her—”

“Don’t,” Feyre snapped, unable to stand the lie. “No one thinks that.”

She turned to her side, angrily fluffing a pillow before turning off the bedside table.

“I think that,” Rhysand murmured defensively. “I saw a picture of tae three of ye, once.”

She half twisted to look at him. “How?”

“We do have the internet here too, lass. It was simple enough to google ye. I wasn’t sure which of ye was which—but I hoped ye were…well…Feyre. I thought ye must be Elain, given how much you talked of her beauty.”

Feyre’s heart pounded. “You’re such a liar, Mr. Campbell.”

“Not when it comes to ye, darling.”

There was a pause of silence between them, hanging thickly as Feyre digested that information. Hoped. She didn’t know what to make of that.

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

“It was one of the things I liked about getting tae letters,” he murmured, settling into the bed. After turning off the lights, it felt easier to peel back some of her defensiveness, to listen to him talk. “My sister died when she was wee, and my mother, well. She never quite recovered from it. When ye wrote that first letter, she was ill again and my father was in one of his rages. And there ye were, in a similar predicament. I thought maybe it was fate.”

“Why didn’t you write back?” she asked, turning fully to her side, her head resting on her elbow.

“Cowardice, I suppose. Ye were a bit younger than me, too. Sixteen, but I was nineteen. It dinae seem right, and truthfully, I didnae want spook ye.”

“Is this your attempt at not spooking me, then? Demanding I marry you for reasons you’ve yet to divulge?” she asked, this time without her usual anger.

“Aye,” he murmured, twisting so he was facing her, too. “I never said I was a good man, Feyre. Only that yer letters were never funny to me.”

“Will you tell me why all this was necessary? I might be able to help, you know—”

“One day,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “When all this is done and ye aren’t so angry, I will. I want to. Not tonight. Hate me all ye like, but I know ye—you’ll be trying to get out of this marriage if ye think you can solve my problems with money. I don’t want yer money.”

“Yes, so you keep saying and yet once we’re married, you’ll have it, regardless. Surely you’ve considered that.”

Rhysand’s pause betrayed him. So he hadn’t realized he’d become unspeakably wealthy the moment Feyre said I do.

It settled some wild, ugly thing in her. “That’s yers,” he finally said.

And with nothing left to say, Rhysand turned over and left Feyre to fall asleep.

-*-

Feyre agreed to take the least offensive things from Elain’s wedding, which, to be fair, were few and far between. The cake was nice, along with the flowers of which Elain would always be the expert. Tables and chairs, and of course, the caterer. Elain had been delighted, in no small part, Feyre suspected, because it meant Graysen wouldn’t be getting his money back. What had he done to her? It wasn’t like Elain to be so petty, but with each thing Feyre said yes to, Elain’s smile grew wider and wider until Feyre wasn’t sure how her sister's smile didn’t split.

And then, with an exasperated sigh, Elain was gone to check on Mr. Vanserra, who was likely wrecking everything in her absence. Feyre thought she’d be sad to see Elain go, but the minute her sister's car pulled out of the drive, Feyre felt the smallest hint of relief.

Rhysand, too. She caught him peeking around a corner, muddy boots on a rather nice ivory floor runner she’d need to wash later.

“Is she gone?” he asked, as if Elain were some terrible creature and not just chatty and maybe a little nosy.

“For now,” Feyre agreed. “She’s putting together your dream wedding, you know.”

“Ours,” he amended.

“No matter how many times you say that, it will never be true.”

He stared her down, straightening to his full height. Feyre’s heart leapt into her throat. “Will ye tell me tae truth about one thing?”

“I doubt it, but you can ask,” she replied primly, wedging her way past his obnoxious body.

“In yer letters, ye said I was tae most beautiful man ye’d ever seen. Is that true?”

Feyre froze. If she turned, he’d see her answer written all over her face. “Everything I imagined about you in my letters was a fiction, Mr. Campbell—”

“For fucks sake, Feyre, call me Rhys,” he snapped. “I cannae stand hearing ye call me Mr. Campbell.”

Feyre forgot she wasn’t supposed to look at him, turning to argue only to find him so close she could smell him. Eyes wide, she backed up only for him to slam his palm against the stone wall behind her, trapping her with his body.

“Tae truth, lass.”

“Why does it matter?” she whispered, hating herself for wanting him and hating herself for not being able to send him away.

His fingers brushed her cheek. “It matters.”

“You can’t have it all, Rhys,” she hissed. He winced as she spat his name, saying it as though it were a curse. “You can’t have your secrets, this marriage and my affection.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t!” she shouted, shoving him away from her. Rhys let her, though she knew if he’d wanted to keep her where she was, there was little she could have done to stop him. “I’m guessing you’re the kind of man who just snaps his fingers and gets exactly what he wants. You could have asked me on a date! You could have been honest and told me who you were, that you got my letters! I would have said yes, you know. If you’d just asked. And if you told me the truth, I would have helped you. You want your secrets, fine. Here I am, playing along. Whatever else you want from me, though? Forget it. For the rest of your life, just forget it.”

“Feyre!” he called as she stormed off. “Feyre, come back!”

She didn’t turn, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she was certain she was going to explode. Feyre didn’t pay attention to the direction she went, running through the halls as fast as she could, just in case he was following her.

He wasn’t. She heard a door slam somewhere in the distance, and if she had to bet, Feyre would have guessed he was headed to the stables. It slowed her just enough to make a decision. He wanted secrets? Well, Feyre didn’t. She’d been too wrapped up in her own misery that past week to bother thinking rationally, but she’d seen him drag in all his things.

Surely there was some answer to the Rhysand question up in his room.

Feyre didn’t feel even a little badly flinging open that door. Where she was messy, Rhysand was immaculate. His bed was made for the morning, draped in silken black that was just like him.

He’d tucked his suitcase beneath the bed, and when she opened his drawers to the dresser, everything was neatly folded and in its place. Feyre rifled a bit, feeling like a creep as she shoved aside his underwear and socks.

The curtains to the windows were pulled open, allowing gloomy gray light to filter through. Outside, she was certain a storm was brewing. If it rained, Rhysand would retreat indoors and she’d have to try again another day.

She didn’t know what she was looking for when she dropped to her knees, sitting on the plush, circular sand rug she’d put in all the rooms. Feyre pulled out his suitcase, unzipping thinking she’d find a passport with his real name, or maybe a criminal record that would explain this whole thing. And then she could call the police and be free of him.

Her stomach clenched when all she found was a large manilla envelope, unsealed.

Feyre.

With trembling fingers, Feyre pulled out a stack of letters. They were stapled individually before he’d folded them into quarters. She reached for the one on top, surprised to see it was the very first letter she’d ever sent him, highlighted and starred with a blue pen.

And beneath, was the letter she’d said he should have sent her.

Dear Feyre Archeron,

Don’t be embarrassed, but I have received your letter. I am curious—do you possess the gift of sight? It seems too much a coincidence that you would mail a letter addressed to Mr. Rhysand Campbell to my home in Dornoch. I’ve decided it’s fate, or at least luck. Tell me, though, this one thing: is your birthday on Christmas? I received this at the new year, and I have been trying to figure out when, exactly, you were born.

I guess it doesn’t matter, though it would be nice to send you a birthday gift next year. If you’re wondering, my birthday is in August. Not that you have to send me a gift. It just seemed fair, since I was asking, to tell you my birthday, too.

And, if it makes you feel better (I’m guessing it won’t, but it did make me feel better), my father also forgot my birthday this year. He was working, and I think he expects my mother to handle those things. I shouldn’t care because I’m an adult, and adults don’t need birthdays (or, that’s what I tell myself at least), but it stings every time he looks me in the eye and asks how old I am.

I think he thinks I’m disappointing. Maybe I am.

Anyway. I am happy to be your pretend boyfriend if it keeps you from having to date wankers. If you decide you’d like to write me back, send it to my address in Edinburgh. My mother lives in Dornoch, and I visit when she’s ill (which, to be fair, is pretty often), but I don’t want to miss one.

That is, assuming you don’t find this horribly creepy.

Yours in pretend,

Rhysand Campbell

P.S. I think Nesta deserved to have her hair pulled, just between you and I.

My silly Feyre,

You keep sending letters (that I devour), but I can’t make myself send one back. I’m starting to suspect I’m a coward, which is a terrible quality in a boyfriend. Maybe you should end things with me and date the beige paint (don’t do that). You’re so honest, and I’m so jealous because without my secrets, who am I? The thought of stripping myself bare makes me feel sick, and so I fold these letters up and pretend you read them and they didn’t disgust you.

In truth, I think you’d stop writing if you knew the truth about me. I’m back in Dornoch and mother is ill and father is working and I am just here. Barely existing, both in Edinburgh where I’m trying to be diligent and finish my education, and in Dornoch, where everyone thinks I’m a good son.

Am I? Can I tell you something?

My sister died when she was nine. It was no one’s fault—except, I suppose, the man driving the car who hit her. We were out together and Ainsley darted out of reach. Father was closest. He lunged, but he wasn’t fast enough, and by the time mother and I could react, it was all over.

I was eleven.

I think we tried to rally together for a while, but the days following Ainsley’s death all blur together. Mother cried all the time and father began yelling. Everyone blamed themselves because we couldn’t blame each other, until we were just festering. Father stayed in Edinburgh, and mother went home and I was in-between.

It’s like she’s lost in a fog, and I’m so angry sometimes because I needed her, too. I needed them both, and it was like, if they couldn’t have Ainsley they didn’t want me. Or anyone—I think mother wishes she’d died, too. And I think father is too busy punishing himself—and by extension, me—to take care of mother.

I wonder what will happen to him when she dies. He loved her better than he ever loved either of us. And deep down, I think he’s ashamed he failed her by letting Ainsley die, and it’s better to yell at her, to stay away, to pretend none of it matters to him.

I can’t send this to you, but I like to pretend you’re reading it anyway. That you’d understand, because you feel forgotten, too. That’s how I feel.

Anyway. Tell Tamlin to stay away. I’m fond of you, pretend girlfriend or not.

Your mess,

Rhysand

Feyre, my darling,

Engaged? I admit, I laughed out loud when I saw what you’d done. I knew the English were awful, but surely there must be one tolerable man among the lot of them. I’m tempted to drive all the way up there and rescue you, if only to spare you the embarrassment from when this falls apart. I’m also curious to see the ring I got you.

I’d like to have it, if only so I can get on one knee and ask you to marry me myself. It’s strange how much affection I feel for you. How often I think about you, how I miss you without knowing you. I feel as if I do (maybe I’m crazy, too).

I graduated last week. Father wasn’t there, though he did call in the after to ask me what my plans were. I nearly told him I planned to marry an English lass–but I have no plans for that yet, and no idea how to announce myself to you. It’s been almost three years, and I think I should have been less of a coward back then and just said hello.

I think, sometimes, you would have liked me. More than that other bloke (Ian? I remember his name, but it makes me feel better to pretend I don’t.), at any rate. And maybe my plans wouldn’t seem so far-fetched, and you wouldn’t have to keep lying to your family because I would be asking you to marry me.

For now, things seem possible. I feel like my own man for once, even if I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. Only that whatever it is will bring me closer to you. Of that, I’m certain. I am looking forward to hearing of our fake marriage, though—I hope you tell me exactly how you imagine it, so when we do meet, I can impress you.

Is that charming, or does it make me creepy? It’s a question I keep asking, and I think I’m walking a very fine line when it comes to you. Perhaps this will all be charming to you—or maybe you’ll have me locked up. I look forward to finding out. I’m certain I will never live it down, regardless.

For now, just know that I find you endearing.

Yours,

Rhys

Feyre,

Your ability to tell the future is unnerving. Our relationship is over because my mother is ill—and though you don’t know it, you were right. I don’t think it would give you solace to hear she finally passed, but in a way, it gave me peace thinking you’d written me to say goodbye. That you understood, even if you didn’t know it, why you and I were just a foolish dream.

Father and I stood in the rain to bury her. I didn’t think he’d come and it would be just me, watching them set her beside my sister. Reunited, at last, just like she’d always wanted. And for one moment, he and I stood there, shoulder to shoulder, silently weeping for all we’d lost and all the things we’d never have again. Ainsley should be here and so should mother.

Her heart failed. I didn’t think you could die of a broken heart, and today I think I could, too. I thought I’d prepared myself better for this moment. As I so often am, I was wrong. Father left, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. Or if I even want to. Maybe that moment was enough. Maybe enough passed between us to call it even, to start over.

I think I’ve been trying so hard to forget when I should have been trying to remember. And I think you were just another way to pretend I was someone else, at least for a little while. You don’t know me—you don’t know Rhysand Campbell and neither do I. Not your once betrothed, anyway. That man was a fantasy, someone I wanted so badly to be.

I would have disappointed you. I’m not a good man, Feyre. I don’t think you would have liked the real Rhysand Campbell, and I would have loved you. That’s the tragedy of us, at least to me. You are witty and funny and charming and I am…I am this. I am not the sort of man you fall in love with, but you.

Oh, you, Feyre. I don’t know how everyone isn’t in love with you. How you don’t walk onto the street and have everyone at your feet, wishing they knew your name. Begging for a second of your time. And even though I know you’ll never see this, and so it doesn’t matter what I think or what I say, I feel as though I’ve been drowning in endless night, and you were the first bright thing that came along.

It would be wrong to go looking for you, no matter how strong the impulse is. You’ve said goodbye, and I am saying it, too. I need to figure myself out and maybe that will take forever. I know one thing, though. I will always be thinking about you. Always be wondering about you.

It’s your birthday (I think), today. That’s what started this whole thing.

Happy birthday Feyre.

Yours, eternally,

Rhys

A crack of thunder sent the letters flying from Feyre’s hands. Was she crying? For one wild moment she twisted to look up at the ceiling, certain there must be a leak. Only, no, it was just her, dripping salt onto the elegant penmanship of Rhys’s unsent letters.

“So,” a dark, masculine voice from the doorway intoned. Feyre’s head snapped to the side, drinking him in. His expression was carefully blank, fingertips holding the frame as he leaned forward. Ferye had been caught, had been so engrossed in the parallel lives they’d been living that she hadn’t realized the rain had started or that he’d retreated indoors.

His wet shirt clung to the contours of his chest, slicking that dark ebony hair to his forehead.

“So,” she agreed, her voice trembling.

Feyre held his gaze. Waiting for his ire.

“Now you know.”

#feysand #feyre archeron x rhysand #feysand fic #yeah i did this #it started off as a joke #now it has spin-offs #and 13k words #smut tomorrow!

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