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sayafics · 9 months

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Dance of Shadows - Chapter I

Hi guys, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this series!

I know the teaser was an excerpt of another chapter after Aemma died, but I wanted to add some context/depth to Daemon and Saenyra's relationship before that, since there's such a long gap in the timeline before he returns to Kings Landing after beating the Crabfeeder.

I hope I got the timeline right, and I do hope this lives up to your expectations! Please let me know what you think, all comments and reblogs are appreciated <33 thank you to everyone who showed love on tha teaser excerpt!

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Saenyra had just spent the last few hours lounging in the library, browsing through books ranging from histories of the Seven Kingdoms and how they came to be, to the myths and legends of dragons and other beings which lurked the lands they inhabited and the seas they wished to rule, to charming scrawls of love written in between lines of literature and poetry.

She had finally found a book she was content with, eager to return to her room before divulging its contents. If she were to hurry, she was sure she would be able to finish before it was time for dinner.

With the book held in one hand, Saenyra used the other to gather the skirt of her dress. Whilst her sister preferred to adorn herself in gowns of black and red - the designs grand yet mature for her age, Saenyra deigned to dress herself in shades which resembled the skies on a warm autumn eve or the sun on a bright summer's day. She would parade around the Keep in hues of yellows and blues, greens and pinks - whatever it was that her heart so desired.

As she made her way through the Keep, eyes roving around the walls as she treaded through corridors and weaved past bowing knights and respectful Lords, she turned the corner only to bump into a solid figure.

Saenyra stumbled back, her hand letting go of her skirt to brush against her forehead as she took in the figure in front of her, a slight pout on her lips. Her eyes found her smudged reflection glinting in a shining and tainted armour, gleaming in the light of a new day but stained with the signs of a bloodied battle.

Her eyes continued their path until they met a set of familiar violet hues.

Oh.

Before her stood Daemon Targaryen, looking as though he had slaughtered an army single-handedly. His eyes were bright with the thrill of a good fight. He looked lively, and if she peered closely enough, she could see how he trembled with unbound energy that coursed through his veins.

At the sight of his niece, the one so quiet and quaint who looked up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, Daemon found an unfamiliar softness seep into his features, "niece, my apologies."

He rarely saw his little niece around the Keep when he did come, he preferred to keep company with whores and dragons.

It was with poorly hidden determination that Rhaenyra would find him, trailing his every step.

When Rhaenyra had found him before his bloodbath in the city, he had gifted her a necklace. A piece of shared ancestry, a piece of home. Now, glancing at Saenyra's bare throat, he wished it had adorned her instead.

Daemon was not one for apologies, even Saenyra was aware of that. So, to hear the words brought a heat upon her cheeks as her gaze became down-turned, "I fear I must apologise too, dear uncle. I must have become too distracted with my thoughts."

A smirk tugged at Daemon's lips at the sight of her bashfulness, amusement colouring his features as he spoke, a teasing tone tainting his innocent words, "ah yes. I believe it is only right if you make it up to me then, don't you think?"

Daemon had never spoken to his neice in such a way, too fearful of what his brother might do. Of what he, himself, might do.

Daemon could not be the reason his darling niece shed tears. He would not forgive himself if he was the reason she were to break.

Seanyra's head had never looked up so fast, eyes flitting around the corridor as she leaned closely, as though she was sharing a secret - "of course. Only if you promise not to tell Kepa." Father.

The easy slip of High Valyrian made Daemon heady with the desire to hear it again, and his eyes burned into her at the eagerness she showed as she was desperate to make things right. His smirk grew broader at the show of her naivety, but still - he would make no fool of his sweet neice, his little 'nyra.

"Anything for my Zaldrītsos." Little Dragon.

Her heart twisted slightly at the endearment, despite the heat that flushed her body once more - although said good-naturedly, the word was a stark reminder that the only dragon the girl had was the one pumping through her blood. It was a subtle reminder of the differences between Saenyra and her sister, of how Rhaenyra has conquered a dragon and emanated a fierce and challenging nature, whilst Saenyra was simply a dragon by name.

Daemon could see how her eyes dimmed at the word, hated how her smile wavered - the Seven Kingdoms would rave about the similarities between Daemon and Rhaenyra, how the two had fire running through their veins and charging their souls, how they would burn each other to ash should they get too close. And with Saenyra, they would whisper about her lack of spark, how she didn't have the charm of a Targaryen, nor the fire of one too.

All that tied her to the Targaryen line was her silver-white hair and lilac eyes.

But a part of Daemon, a dark and repressed echo that grew louder as the days went by, found that he preferred it as such. She was a calm summer evening, a quiet winter's day.

Daemon was chaos, and Saenyra was peace.

Her voice broke him out of his reverie, "so, what is it that you want?"

There was a curious smile on her lips, her eyes searching his as she became impatient. He huffed a laugh, teeth bared in a broad grin - "I guess you shall have to wait and see."

Daemon knew what he would ask. He had been thinking of doing so from the moment he had stepped foot back in King's Landing and seen his Saenyra. She had grown tall, her hair flowing down her back is careless ruffles, flowers twisted between the intricate braids that adorned her head as a circlet rested atop her brows. Her gowns were tight fitting, the neck would swoop low, or her arms would be bare of fabric, and sometimes, if he was lucky, careful patterns would be cut into the lining of her waist to reveal the milky skin that lay underneath.

Daemon would be lying if he said a part of him hadn't grown feral at the sight, something dark and desperate coming to life within him as his desires for Saenyra grew stronger.

It was something unexpected, especially by him. He had expected, if anyone, it would be Rhaenyra he would pursue. The two were in a silent battle for the place of heir at Viserys' behest, fervent prayers that the next child Aemma gave birth to would not be a boy. So it would make sense to present a united front. To present themselves as a joint option, a better choice to the other heirs Viserys would force his wife to bear.

But Rhaenyra and Daemon had the fire of a dragon running through them, and they would ultimately burn each other and leave nothing but destruction in their wake.

Daemon cleared his throat, forcing himself to stray from his traiterous thoughts and focus on his task - he had to attend the meeting with the Council, he had to reach Viserys before they filled his head with lies about Daemon - before they seeded doubt and had him sent from the Seven Kingdoms once more.

"I must take leave now, dear niece."

Daemon skirted around the girl, his golden cloak billowing behind him, the soft and bloodied material brushing against her cheek in an imitation of affection he longed to show himself. His moves were slow and sluggish as though he was hoping she'd stop him. And she did exactly that - "where are you going, Kepus?" Uncle.

He inhaled sharply at the Valyrian word, there was a frown on her lips as her head twisted in question and Daemon felt as though he would kneel for her and give all of himself right there, if she had simply asked.

Her hand came to hold his own as she tugged at his fingers. Daemon risked a glance down, eyes tracing over her nimble fingers and how they dwarfed against his own. She tugged again, "Kepus."

The word was stressed and elongated, hoping to catch the man's attention as he kept gazing off to a place far from where she could see.

"The King wants to see me," it wasn't a complete lie, but it was an easy one, "I wouldn't want to keep them waiting."

She nodded, understandingly. But there was a part of her left unsure by his words, Daemon was never one to obey with such ease - always at the ready to challenge those around him, including his own brother. Even if he was King.

It seemed, however, his words were enough to snap her into a state of disinterest, she turned away from him with such ease and continued on her way, a soft "I shall see you later, then," passed over her shoulders with a friendly smile as she walked away from him.

Daemon found he could do nothing but watch.

***

Saenyra hadn't left her chambers much after her encounter with her uncle - with no dragon to tend to, and the lack of duties as a second-born and the burden of being a girl, she had no pending responsibilities. Left in the confines of her room, she made due with what she had - her books.

There was not much else to do in King's Landing, with no Kingsguard assigned to her yet, she was not free to roam the cities that belonged to her father.

Saenyra ate in her chambers, despite the call for her to join her family in her father's - were she to join, she was sure the room would be full of praises for a successful Rhaenyra - whether it was how she was getting on with her lessons with the Septa or a new dragon-riding trick mastered, or whispers of possibilities of their future son - a new heir and a new King in the making.

Anything but Saenyra.

All throughout the hours of the night, even as she laid her head to rest, her mind would tiptoe back to the voice of her uncle.

Despite all his time in the Keep, and all his trips out, Saenyra had never been able to bond with her uncle the way she wishes she had. The way Rhaenyra had.

Daemon had been the Master of Laws, the Master of Coin, and now Commander of the City Watch. And throughout it all, she had been unable to bond with her uncle in a way she was desperate for ever since she was a child. She remained oblivious to his glances and heated stares, to the dark whispers in his mind and the temptation that lurked under every passive graze and touch.

It was instead Rhaenyra who found him, who bonded with him. Who found common ground in their love for riding and dragons and violence. Rhaenyra who adored her uncle as he adored her. As everyone adored her, in a way Saenyra craved for them to cherish her.

The two would gush over dragons and tales of battles and wars, a wistful tone taking over Rhaenyra's voice as she spewed questions at her uncle whenever he dined with them, and a look of admiration would sparkle in Daemon's eyes as he answered every question with ease.

Saenyra would sit quietly, never speaking aloud unless spoken to, and even that was quite rare. So, for her uncle to say he wants something from her? It was a surprise, indeed. And a bubbling sensation of guilt began to fester as she realised that she felt excitement build at the prospect. What would Rhaenyra think? Would she be hurt? Jealous?

Saenyra was not blind to how Rhaenyra was captivated by Daemon, how she craved him and called to him. Although Daemon was both of their uncle, there was an unspoken claim placed upon him from the moment Rhaenyra was old enough to articulate her fascination with the man. A silent boundary, a whispered challenge Saenyra had never dared to overstep. And she was worried she may now.

Would he ask to take her dragon-riding? Perhaps he would ask her to steal him some lemon cakes, as he had when she was much younger? Or maybe he would ask for a favour she couldn't provide.

Perhaps, he wanted her help to get Rhaenyra something. Or to tell her something.

Saenyra wasn't blind to Daemon's own infatuation with her sister, whether it was because of her claim to the throne or her violent beauty. The man was enamoured, even if he tried to deny so.

She resigned herself to the idea of having to wait until Daemon had finally asked her whatever it was he decided, a frustrated sigh escaping her as she rolled onto her side and faced the open balcony windows, watching as the soft winds blew a quiet tune through the curtains. Her eyes traced over the dark shadows of King's Landing, her eyes finding the moon and seeking comfort in its shallow glow.

With steady breaths, she fell asleep quickly, her mind flashing with images she had long learned to ignore. What good is being a dragon dreamer when you are unable to tame one?

***

In the cities of King's Landing, Daemon had taken to throwing himself in the arms of lust as he sought out ways to expel his energy and frustration in the brothels of Silk Street.

He had been here for perhaps hours now, gyrating and grinding against the softness of his paramour. Mysaria wasn't a quiet lover, her moans drawing an audience as he pounded relentlessly, chasing a high that escaped him at every turn.

No matter how hard he tried, how much he relied on his imagination - it wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't who he needed.

The meeting with the Small Council hadn't ended badly, but Otto's reminders of his duties to the Bronze Bitch of the Vale continued to follow him. A dark reminder that although his marriage was not consumated, in the eyes of the Seven Kingdoms and in the eyes of his brother, Daemon was a married man. And even if Targaryen men had taken on second wives before, he knew his brother would never accept such an ordeal.

But still, such moral obligations hadn't stopped him from chasing his pleasure in brothels and amongst whores. Yet, Mysaria's dark hair was a pitying reminder of the woman he felt no love nor lust for and so proved to be a dampener for his fun, amongst other things.

He sighed out of frustration, halting his hips as he laid his head against Mysaria's shoulders. He pulled out roughly, tugging a blanket over his naked form as he trudged towards the window in a hollowing mix of rage and despair. His eyes found the stars, seeking comfort in their luminous glow as his mind flitted over myths and legends of constellations etched into the dark sky.

Mysaria followed, consoling the man as she praised him. But her words had no effect on him, so she offered him something more instead.

"I could bring in another? Perhaps one with silver hair."

Daemon was tempted to say yes, urged to give in to his fantasies and imagine.

But it wouldn't be what he wanted. No, the whores of Silk Street - the bastards of the Targaryen line, although their hair grew white it wasn't the right shade. Too different for him to be able to pretend.

And Daemon didn't want to pretend.

Twisting his fingers and tugging strands of golden-white hair were a mere illusion for the girl he pretended he wanted.

The girl he truly desired was one he would never taint, her hair brighter and longer - the wisps of her soft, white hair were their own streaks of light, like beaming stars in the night sky.

No, it wouldn't be the same.

It wouldn't be what he wanted - what he needed.

Daemon Targaryen wanted Saenyra. But he knew he could not have her.

He would not take her, for fear of corrupting her. Of ruining her, and breaking her beyond repair.

Taglist: @marihoneywk @ahristata @gracielikegrapes @luanasrta

#daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen #otto hightower #house of the dragon #hotd #smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen fluff #dance of shadows

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molly-ghuleh · 6 months

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Camellia: Copia x f!reader - Chapter 7

Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.

Summary: You slowly chip away at Elizabeth's diary. Copia takes you for a little break to clear your head.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: Hey hi hello!! Thank you once again for your incredible patience with these chapters. You all are so very close to my heart and I cherish every single like/reblog/comment (I cry when people say nice things to me, help). That said... let me know your thoughts!!

Warnings: possible mention of anxiety (very brief), Sister Imperator being shady, mentions of ritual sex (no graphic depictions)

AO3 / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

You live in limbo for a full week. “A few hours” of working in Copia’s office had turned into a full day and well into the night. Then one day turned to two, and two to four, and then you found yourself in his office without him asking, simply because it would save time.

The atmosphere between you and Copia during these days is oddly comfortable. You’ve always preferred to work alone, feeling that any noise or talking would be a distraction. Your translations would always turn out more eloquent and faithful to the original text when you could place yourself into the author’s headspace, and that requires near silence or, at most, the ambience of the room around you.

With Copia, though, you find that you’re able to focus even when there is noise or talking in the corridor outside his office. Part of you wants to believe that it’s just the change of scenery. His office is opulent, as the rest of the Abbey, but understated. The wall to the left of the door is lined with bookshelves filled with books and little relics or knick knacks. The desk you work at, which sits nestled in the back corner of the room, had been piled with papers and books which you’d helped him organize (a task which he insists he owes you a favor for), but now it houses your own materials. His desk is still fairly cluttered but since you’ve started spending the days in his company, he’s made a significant dent in the work.

He’d said that having a study buddy helps him stay on task. You’ve always thought you were the opposite, but perhaps you’d never found the right person. It’s as if Copia radiates this aura of calm and focus that you can inhale by just sitting in the same room as him. Your notes are clearer, you can decode letters faster, the Latin flows from your pen smoother.

That’s not to say you always stay on task.

There have been times when a little observation or comment turns to an hour-long conversation, or an invitation to the refectory for lunch turns into a walk through the gardens to take advantage of the warming weather. Or a little glance his way turns into watching him work, memorizing the pattern of his pen’s dragging across a signature line. Watching the little cowlick he tries so desperately to keep in place as it falls back over his forehead. Spotting a tiny smudge in his black paints and remembering how his face had looked, soaked in rain and bare and flushed at your touch.

Yes, you have been living in limbo between being Copia’s study buddy and being something more.

You know, he’d said. You must.

You do know. If the past week has shown you anything, it’s that you know, more surely than you’d expected to, that you’re dangerously close to falling in love with him and that every day you tip further and further over that cliff. The abyss below is deep and if you fall you have no chance of climbing back out.

Copia… Copia is already plummeting. There’s a pleasant heaviness that settles in his chest at the thought of you, increased tenfold at the sight of you. Just existing in the same space as you makes him content with how his life has been, like every moment he’d spent alone only led him to you. Oh, yes, Copia is hurtling downwards at terminal velocity and it’s a long way down.

Somewhere within the last few minutes, Copia noticed you’ve stopped writing. Your eyes stare blankly at the letter grid, one hand pointing to keep track and the other holding your pen a few inches off the notebook page. You must be lost in thought.

“Tesoro?” Copia calls gently. A small smile plays on his lips. He’d gone for the informal paints today after staying in his office far too late to complete some work the previous night, and not at all because you’d accidentally let slip that you like his freckles during a particularly sunny walk. “Where did you go just then?”

At the sound of his voice, your eyes flick up towards where he sits at his desk, watching you. You blink. “Mars, I think,” you say with a little laugh. “I’m stuck on this one phrase.”

Copia rises from his desk chair, stretching his arms above his head, and you try not to stare at the little sliver of skin exposed when his shirt rides up. “Would you like another pair of eyes on it?” He asks.

“Here,” you nod, pointing at the line in your notebook where you’d written the deciphered phrase in Latin. “Collige virgo rosas. Literally, ‘pick, girl, the roses’.”

“Ah, so… what is that phrase? ‘Stop and smell the roses’, yes?”

“Yes, exactly,” you say. “But in the context of this, it doesn’t make sense. She’s not talking about something good.”

Copia’s brows furrow as he rounds your desk and comes to stand beside your chair. He leans over to read what you’ve deciphered in your notebook. The words of Latin slide effortlessly off his tongue as he reads your work out loud, and not for the first time, you’re reminded of how smart he really is. Not that you ever doubted it—he’s proven time and time again through answering your questions about the Ministry’s history that he’s Papa for a reason—but it’s a quiet intelligence. The two of you could be joking about something entirely inconsequential and then suddenly he’s telling you about the theistic anti-religious undertones of the works of Marcus Aurelius and somehow he makes the transition make sense.

“Oh! I see,” Copia says with a jaunty little snap of his fingers. “Here. Further down, read this part.”

Your eyes follow his gloved finger down the page of your notebook to a passage you don’t quite remember deciphering. Using the letter grid is mindless now. After spending a week doing nothing but mapping and mapping and mapping every single letter in Elizabeth’s diary, you’ve learned how to let your mind drift just enough that the translation is still accurate but your mind is elsewhere.

In horto moribundo, elige rosas sanas, Elizabeth had written.

In a dying garden, choose healthy roses.

You continue to read the rest of the passage, and yes, now that first idiom makes more sense. It’s oddly… optimistic, for Elizabeth.

“Huh,” you say dumbly, suddenly all too aware of how close Copia is standing. “I don’t remember writing that at all.”

“Because you were on Mars,” Copia laughs. “Come back down to Earth and we can go for a walk, si? You seem to be, eh… zoning out.”

You smile at him. His eyes are already on yours. From this close you remember that, on top of his intelligence and kindness and wit and charm and empathy, he’s devastatingly handsome. And then you remember how you feel about this man, and how this man feels about you, and your heart kicks up a gear. There haven’t been any romantic declarations or passionate kisses, but every time you pass the romance section of the Library on your way to return Elizabeth’s diary to its lockbox at the end of the night, you’re tempted to borrow a book or two, just for the catharsis of it.

Carefully, you close the diary and wrap it in its linen to protect it while you’re away. Copia moves back to his desk and fishes his key out of the top drawer. “Let’s go to the front gardens today, cara mia,” he says.

“How come?” You ask as he opens his office door for you.

He shrugs. “It’s something different. And the sun is over there right now.”

He doesn’t mention the conversation he’d had with Terzo the night before. How he’d approached his brother, the master of romantic gestures and wooing, and asked how exactly he might tell someone he has feelings for them in a way that won’t leave anything in question. He doesn’t mention how Terzo had (embarrassingly) made him roleplay how his confession might go. He also doesn’t mention that, at Terzo’s suggestion, he’d gone to Primo to ask where the prettiest places in the Abbey gardens are, and Primo had told him that the front gardens are full of Japanese camellia bushes on their last leg of blooming for the Spring season. Copia doesn’t mention how, after that, Primo had lent him a well-loved copy of Linguaggio dei Fiori.

When you’re finished organizing your materials, Copia leads you out his office door with a warm hand placed on the small of your back. The touch, little as it is, makes you shiver.

“I haven’t been to this side of the Abbey,” you tell him. “Not since I arrived.”

Copia watches you as you speak. “The front of the Abbey is very, eh, overlooked. Most people prefer the back gardens because they are bigger. There is more to look at.”

He seems nervous, you notice. You can hear the creaking of his leather gloves as he wrings his hands behind his back. And despite his calm facade, his voice sounds… different. Not weaker, but less sure.

“Copia,” you say quietly. You always say his name with such softness and it makes his heart pound. “Are you alright?”

He smiles at you but it isn’t very believable. “Oh, yes, tesoro, I’m alright,” he says too quickly.

You tilt your head.

“Well…”

You can read him like a book, he knows. Fitting—you can read almost any book in the Abbey’s library, no matter the language, and you choose to read him. And he can read you, too. Like scholars with their manuscripts. Cheesy, he thinks. I’ve been talking to Terzo too much.

“It’s alright,” you say after a pause. “We can just walk, if you’d like. But you have my ear if you need it, or if you need some time—”

“No, no, I…” Copia gently takes your hand as if you’d drift off if he didn’t. “Please, walk with me. There are just… things on my mind, which I need to sort out.”

You squeeze his hand, relieved. “Okay. I’m with you.”

Sathanas. You’re with him. Copia breathes in and out again, shakily. You’re with him, it’s just you. Nothing to be nervous about.

It’s just… you.

You, who he’s about to bare his soul to. You who came into his life and who will stay for such a short time. All he has is a few months with you, and he’s been kicking himself for a week, trying to tell you that he can’t bear to waste any more time, not when you’re both well aware of the feelings you each hold. He can’t go another hour without knowing how it feels for you to know. He knows you know, of course, but you don’t know—

The hallway seems too long. Copia’s working himself into a spiral. His brain keeps telling him you’re as good as gone already. That if he tells you how he feels, you’ll reject him and he’ll lose you. But he’s going to lose you anyway, and he needs to know if he can have these few months with you or no time at all.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, he thinks. And sorry I could not travel both…

The two of you come to the front door of the Abbey. The old wood creaks when you push it open with your free hand, your other still holding Copia’s. You emerge outside and you hold the door open for him to follow after you. He gives you a small smile, not entirely present. Perhaps on Mars, visiting where you’d been.

The front of the Abbey is picturesque. You remember seeing it as you rode up the driveway that first afternoon. It had been so imposing then, gothic and ancient and huge compared to Marseille. These things are still true as you emerge into the sunny lawn, but in the sunbeams, with a breeze that holds only a little bit of bite compared to the air when you arrived, it begins to feel safe.

Your mind reels against the Abbey being a safe place. For your entire stay thus far, you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you don’t like it here, that you aren’t absolutely titillated by Elizabeth’s diary, that the massive Library doesn’t make your mouth water. This is just a temporary work placement, nothing more. Nothing can keep you attached. Not even Copia.

You almost have to laugh, because you know immediately that you’re lying to yourself. You’re already attached. The thought of leaving the Abbey burns in your gut, but the thought of leaving him almost makes you crumble.

You squeeze Copia’s hand. “Still with us?” You ask gently.

Your voice brings him back to this realm, but he’s already mostly through his mental recital of The Road Not Taken, and it’s better if he finishes it. It helps him breathe. Decide.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

“Yes,” Copia replies after a moment. “Still here. Sorry, cara mia.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be. Would it help to talk out loud?”

Copia turns his head and looks at you. All the words he’d practiced with Terzo are suddenly lost to him, nowhere to be found in his brain. Now he just sees you, feels your presence in his chest, and he knows he can’t use some rehearsed line with you. That’s not him. And more importantly, that’s not you.

The two of you walk along the blooming camellia bushes. You recognize them from the first time you’d walked in the back gardens with Copia. They’re the only flowers in bloom at this time of year, bright white and pale pink on a backdrop of evergreen. You wonder why more Siblings don’t spend time in the front gardens, especially at this time of year. The flowers are big and supple, if not just on the verge of wilting for the season, and the springtime breeze carries their sweet scent on a hint of warmth to come.

“Tesoro,” Copia begins, his voice soft and quiet, just for you. “I, eh… well, I wanted to… tell you that I, eh…”

You wait patiently. Your heart kicks and you think you might know what he’s trying to say, but you give him time. Neither of you have spoken the words out loud, and in your head, it exists only as the thing between you. The thing that is happening, the thing you feel.

Instead, Copia turns the subject. “I read about camellia flowers recently, you know,” he tells you. “Primo leant me his book, Linguaggio dei Fiori, the language of flowers—well, eh, you must already know that, of course, you are fluent…. Anyways, I was reading about camellia, and I learned that this kind is native to Japan, isn’t that interesting? They only bloom in late winter or early spring, and go dormant in the summer, but they don’t die because they are evergreen shrubs, which means—”

“Copia,” you interrupt gently, “breathe.”

“Right, yes…” He takes a deep breath and his shoulders drop. “What I mean to say is that these flowers will be gone soon, when the warm weather comes. I wanted to take you to see them before they were dormant.”

You stroll along the line of camellia bushes, observing the large blooms closely. The sun almost makes them glow against the dark green leaves. There are a few early bees gathering pollen for their stores, until it’s time for the summer flowers to blossom. You reach out to brush your fingertips against the outer petals of one pink flower, feeling the satiny texture and the dewdrops still clinging from the morning. “They’re beautiful,” you say softly.

“They remind me of you,” Copia replies.

Oh sweet Satan, you think, your heart suddenly pounding in your ears.

He continues after a brief pause. “In that book, Linguaggio dei Fiori, it said…” he clears his throat. “It said that camellia symbolize admiration and affection and desire.”

You look at him then, and he meets your gaze. Admiration and affection and desire.

“And longing, for someone who is far away.”

Copia steps closer to you. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, as if to tell you that it’s alright, he won’t ambush you, that these are those feelings and now he’s saying them out loud. Your eyes stay locked on his own, watching as his green eye grows more vibrant against the backdrop of the camellia bushes’ leaves. His other hand lightly runs down your arm to take yours.

“I’m not far away,” you whisper.

“No, you are not,” Copia says, and he’s close enough that his breath wisps over your face. You have to tilt your head up slightly to hold his gaze as you stand nearly chest-to-chest. “You are here, and the camellia are getting ready to close their flowers.”

“And when I go, they will bloom again.”

“Yes. And when they do, I will long for you, Camellina.”

Camellina. Little camellia. His flower, his blossom in the cold. Here until you’re not. “Copia…”

He reaches up and brushes a stray hair from your forehead, then traces his fingers down your cheek until he cups your jaw tenderly. “I don’t want to keep dancing around each other,” he tells you softly. “If we only have so much time, I don’t want to waste it.”

Your eyes flick back and forth between his own, and you’ve committed your own cardinal sin. You’ve gotten attached. So very attached. Incredibly, deeply attached, and you’re terrified, but Lucifer below, how can you be scared when he’s looking at you like that. Like he might already love you.

“No,” you say. “I don’t want to waste it, either.

“Then please, camellia mia, let me kiss you.”

He waits for just the slightest nod of your head before he draws you in and presses his lips to yours.

It’s really not a kiss at first, just a light brushing of lips together. He wants to know you’re sure that this is what you want. And when you don’t run, or disappear, or turn into a frog like some fairytale bastardization, he kisses you for real. Your lips fit together like they were cast from the same mold, built as the perfect opposite by Satan himself. He kisses you like you’re ethereal.

His hand on your jaw pulls you closer while his other hand slides around your back, and your own find his shoulders to keep yourself upright. He tastes like overly sweet coffee and whatever the refectory had served for breakfast and something else you can’t really place, but has the same distinctness as how he smells. The subtle oakiness of his cologne fills your nose as it sweetly bumps against his. His thumb gently pushes your jaw up, tilting your head to kiss you deeper at a better angle. You feel his tongue swipe along your bottom lip and you don’t even have to think before you let him in.

Your hands trail down from his shoulders to his chest and you press slightly, feeling the warmth of his body under his vest. You can feel the quick pounding of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips and you know from the thundering in your ears that yours is paced the same.

When he pulls away, it’s barely far enough to stop the embrace. With every slight movement, your lips brush together in the lightest touch possible, an echo of the kiss you’d just shared.

“Impie… seigneur des ténèbres en bas,” you breathe against his lips. It seems the only words that can escape you now are those thanking your Dark Lord for the man standing before you. What else can you say when Copia has just drained your brain of any coherent thought? “Embrasse-moi comme ça pour toujours.”

Copia laughs, the puff of air brushing against your lips and cheek. “I’ve broken her, I think,” he says. “She’s lost her English.”

You swallow and try to suppress the heat rising to your face. “I, uh… merde, I can hardly think. Maybe you did.”

“Is this a good thing, camellina?” Copia asks, his thumb brushing against your cheek. He’s still wearing his leather gloves but you wish that he’d take them off. You want to feel his palms against you.

“Oui—sì, er… yes,” you stumble.

Copia laughs again and presses another kiss to the apple of your cheek. “You know, I thought I was going to be the one tongue-tied,” he says with a little smirk. “But I’ve rehearsed this in my head about a million times, so perhaps the shock hasn’t set in yet.”

“Oh? It hasn’t?” You ask, finally coming back to your head. You lean up and kiss him again, simply because you can.

“N-no, not yet. Sathanas, do that again.”

You oblige, and kiss him once more. This time you linger, your fingers gripping the fabric of his vest and pulling slightly. You feel him smile into the kiss. He’s still smiling when you pull away. “I don’t think you ever finished your thought,” you say, remembering what he’d said before… all this.

“No, I did,” Copia tells you. “I had this whole speech planned, telling you how much I adore you, but I kind of… stumbled through it.”

You smile, imagining what his rehearsed speech might’ve been like, but it doesn’t feel right. You can’t imagine it going any other way than it did. “I adore you, too,” you say softly. “And your speech was perfect. Very you.”

“Awkward, long-winded, but somehow made sense?” Copia asks. He draws you into his side and takes your hand again, resuming your stroll through the front garden.

You laugh, and Lucifer below, it’s the sweetest thing Copia’s ever heard. “Exactly.”

Oh, this is bad. Maybe you would’ve gotten away with a mild heartbreak when you left if you hadn’t kissed him. But you had, and you know that when you leave you’ll be devastated. Kissing him, allowing yourself to finally feel the feelings you’ve been desperately pushing down since you first met him, is just digging yourself deeper into the hole you find yourself in.

But how comfortable and warm and perfect this hole is.

You remember the passage from Elizabeth’s diary you’d been having trouble with. In a dying garden, choose healthy roses. Find the good within the bad, the light in the dark.

When you spare a glance at Copia as the two of you continue strolling through the front gardens, you find that there’s a dimple on his cheek that hadn’t been there before, and little crinkles beside his eyes. He’s smiling. You smile too, and look forward again.

Pick, girl, the roses.

~~~

“You remember what we talked about, I’m sure?” Sister Imperator asks Secondo, who stands in her office rather against his will.

“Yes.”

“And you have kept it a secret?”

“Yes.”

He hasn’t.

No, in fact, he’d done the opposite of what Sister Imperator had asked him to do, just to slight her. He’d told you exactly how old Elizabeth’s diary is, and what he knows about Prime Movers. Although it seems like Sister Imperator knows more than he, if she’s so adamant about keeping it hidden.

“Good,” Sister nods. “We wouldn’t want some little French girl getting any ideas.”

Secondo huffs and looks out the window of Sister Imperator’s office.

There you are, walking hand-in-hand with his younger brother, looking quite cozy. From the second-floor vantage point, Secondo can tell the two of you are talking, but he can’t tell about what. The window is situated at Imperator’s back—she’d given herself the corner office, of course—so she can’t see what’s happening just under her nose. Secondo’s lips quirk up at the corner at the sight. From the little interaction he’s had with you, he knows you’re not some naive little French girl.

“Sister,” Secondo begins, “I do not understand what is so important about it that it has to stay a secret.”

Sister Imperator is irked. “Because it must,” she says, as if that’s a good explanation. “We can’t have just any Sibling with a womb vying for Papa’s attention because they heard a silly rumor. Not everything is full of sunshine and butterflies.”

“And what rumor is that?”

Sister sighs. “Being a Prime Mover is not glamorous, Secondo. The role is barbaric and dehumanizing, and I would not have any Siblings think otherwise.”

Secondo turns to leave with a huff. “I was hoping you would tell me something I did not already know.”

“Ask your father,” Sister Imperator says, and perches her reading glasses on the tip of her nose in dismissal.

~~~

March 29

I woke up in Papa’s bed this morning, alone. I do not fool myself when I say I had not hoped differently.

Mother says the ritual went well. She says the candelabras in the garden chapel stayed burning all night, a sign of approval from the Dark One. She says that candles lit from the fire of burning ritual bedsheets will burn until the sun takes over, but I think it is just because the candles were large and extra care was taken to ensure the chapel is not drafty.

He was very gentle. He was very… skilled with his hands and mouth. He treated me like a lover when we were alone in the chapel. It was as if the ritual bed was my own, and all I could focus on was how I felt and how he felt. Whispered words and praises and caresses on my skin. He was human for those moments. He became Papa once more when the knocker sounded.

Mother said to be glad that he was gentle at all. She said, ‘pick, girl, the roses.’

I want to believe that Papa hates this as much as I. He seems kind. Perhaps a man obligated by faith into such a demeaning practice, but kind nonetheless. I want to believe he cares for me in some regard. If not now, I hope he will grow to, as we will be spending much time together. But he was kind, and he was gentle. In a dying garden, choose healthy roses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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yakool-foolio · 9 months

Note

I love everything about your death knight yakou AU! It’s incredibly interesting to read about. also i agree that yakou should have the right to wield a sword

I’m assuming Yakou will be much more involved with every investigation/case in this AU, and I was wondering if there would be any changes in relationships/character dynamics due to that. I’m mostly talking about Yomi (since he wrote the anonymous letter to manipulate Yakou and likely doesn’t initially know that Yakou had his memories about that whole ordeal taken away), but I would also love to hear about the other master detectives too haha

To format this so it doesn't become a mass of unorganized paragraphs, I'll write up a short list that contains a few dynamic changes, serious and non-serious.

Yomi - Yomi is quick to be frustrated by Yakou's antics. With what's been recently established regarding the Book Of Death, he hones in on Yakou, waiting with bated breath for an inevitable mistake to create an opening for him to arrest the chief. He's keen on observing Yakou's connection to the NDA detectives, especially Yuma. While he's never able to see Shinigami, he can tell with ease that the pact has been formed. He hides his knowledge of that fact well till their inevitable showdown in chapter 4.

Halara - As much as Yakou fears sinking into a sea of debt, he has no choice but to employ Halara's assistance for the Nail Man Killings just this once. The stingy detective continues to throw fees his way, but he reinforces his avoidance to spend more money than he needs. He hopes he can find a roundabout way to have the WDO pay off Halara instead. Once the culprits' souls for the serial killings are reaped, Halara understands the chief's concerns and offers him a candy cigarette free of charge. A symbol of their comradery being enough of a payment... for now.

Desuhiko - With Yakou in charge, Desuhiko can't get away with his flirtatiousness on the job. Quick to scold him, Yakou remains vigilant in keeping the little rockstar in line. However, there are still times where Desuhiko will slip from under his watch to try performing on the stage, frightening the poor chief. Shinigami wishes Yakou would allow the shorty to have a little more fun, but she's swiftly opposed by Desuhiko's comments towards her. Both Yakou and Shinigami grow ever tired throughout the mystery labyrinth. In the aftermath, Desuhiko continues to strive for fame from the successful mission, leaving Yakou both worried yet happy to see him determined to achieve his dreams.

Fubuki - Explaining the wonders of the world to an excited Fubuki proves difficult when Yakou holds a 'glass half empty' perspective on life. He doesn't shy away from telling the blunt truth of the things she's curious about. He believes it's better to anchor yourself in reality than venture off too far into unrealistic expectations that won't be met. However, Fubuki's adventurous attitude is admittedly contagious. He wonders what it's like to see the world through Fubuki's eyes, wishing he could be as optimistic as her. When the NDA detectives reunite after the culprits for the bombings and flood are caught, he senses a spark of a brighter future ahead of him.

Vivia - They start out wary of each other, exchanging their suspicions through side-eye glances. Vivia being fully aware of Shinigami's presence causes a rift between them. The death god grows paranoid, but Yakou wants to know more. This urge to better understand each other allows them to grow close, finding a connection through the loneliness clinging to their backs. When the time comes, there's no one Yakou trusts more with the harrowing investigation of his wife's death than the phantom detective. Yakou still has the capacity to love despite his losses, and Vivia blissfully floats in to fill that hole in his heart.

#death knight yakou au #rain code #rain code spoilers #yakou furio #yomi hellsmile #halara nightmare #desuhiko thunderbolt #fubuki clockford #vivia twilight #viviakou

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xknivesandpensx · 10 months

Text

Like Pieces of a Puzzle

Chapter 8

Summary: What if Harry wasn't the only extra student called upon to participate in the Triwizard Tournament? Far from the most popular candidate, Draco not only has to take on the trials but also deal with his unexpected feelings for Hermione. Will he be able to face the challenges as well as follow his heart?

Chapter length will vary. I'll be referencing both the books and movie versions. Some things from what I've previously written will be mentioned, all of which you can find here.

And for those who asked to be tagged: @dayane245love

Although Potions exceeded no more than thirty minutes, to Draco the time seemed incredibly slow. Probably due to Snape rattling off a bunch of information regarding their next lesson, of which they copied down. In any normal case, he held no objection to the task. In fact, this class tended to be favored over the others by a large scale.

But his fingers refused to cooperate whenever he brought his quill to the parchment before him. A dull ache remained after being subjected to writing lines. He often had to flex his hand, therefore missing a word or two, for Snape spoke softly and quickly.

And, of course, whenever he placed a question, Hermione’s arm shot in the air. Even if she sat behind him by a few rows, the sound of her voice also gave Draco reason to pause.

Having run into both Hermione and Ginny (the latter whose presence he barely comprehended) rendered him silent. No remark, no jab or insult to be found. Just a perfectly unreasonable inability to speak. Still worse, he kept thinking about the way she held onto his hand. How soft her skin felt.

He really hated everything about the whole ordeal – Moody’s unethical detention, Hermione’s offered help, him accepting.

To think he could go from open mockery to liking her.

Draco forced his focus back to Snape for the rest of class, more than happy to go to the Great Hall. Maybe the Triwizard Tournament would consist of enough excitement to drown out the loud thumping of his heart.

Despite his efforts, he somehow ended up sitting directly in line with Hermione. Luckily, she faced the other direction, so he only saw the back of her head. At least, Pansy sat elsewhere. She’d ask too many questions if she noticed the mark on his hand, and given the annoyed look she gave Daphne and Astoria for taking her spot across from him, he felt better off.

While waiting for Dumbledore to begin his speech, he absently rubbed his fingertips over the healed scar. Too light to see if unaware, merely off in color and smooth to the touch.

The Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students arrived, gaining well received attention from his fellow Hogwarts classmates upon their entrance. One group decided on the Slytherin table and the others, Ravenclaw.

Even Draco felt a little smug about Victor Krum taking a seat next to him and their exchange of words. He read Ron’s open dejections through body language alone.

Dumbledore continued once everyone settled. He took out the Goblet of Fire, listing out the rules. To enter your name and school had to be written on a slip of parchment and tossed into the cup within the twenty-four-hour time limit. The binding magical contract formed if selected and, to the dismay of many not permitted to enter, he brought up the Age Line he’d place himself.

The feast consisted of a few new assortments, particularly ones favored by the new schools, such as Bouillabaisse. Draco stuck to his usual choices, despite not feeling overly hungry. Viktor came off more reserved than he expected and during their discussion about Quidditch. Draco learned the celebrity aspect of his life seldom did him any favors. And while not overly fond of the attention received, he held a gracious nature while in company of his fans.

Viktor was the exact opposite of how Draco viewed Harry.

A few in Durmstrang joined in by throwing in a comment every so often. The easy conversation lightened his sullen disposition.

Friday night passed into the next day almost in a blur. Draco didn’t see Hermione again until the afternoon, heading down to the small hut near the Forbidden Forest alongside Ron and Harry. He rolled his eyes. Why anyone wanted to hang around Hagrid was beyond him.

Draco hated how his chest tightened, like a physical force existed, pushing against his ribcage. Even from a distance she managed to affect him.

As he veered away, a bunch of girls rushed past, hastening towards the lake. Draco heard Viktor’s name and knew their immediate hope to gain recognition. Sure, he considered himself a fan but he refused to act the part of some fanatic enthusiast begging for an autograph.

He merely ventured outside due to the overabundance of chatter in the castle. Too many people kept going on about the tournament. Regardless of the event, classes were to be consistent and only interrupted for the Hogwarts champion.

Cassius Warrington, the Chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch team, mentioned putting his name in. Draco hardly thought him good enough to be chosen. Still, he preferred the idea of someone from his house representing them.

After wandering a bit further, Draco saw Igor Karkaroff. His near blank, thoughtful expression changed upon seeing him. By no means did the man ever convey any form of warm in regards to their familiarity. He managed to free his face of any trace of moroseness, for he and Lucius retained a positive relationship over the years.

A smile never quite reached his cold, brown eyes. A view of his yellowed teeth flashed for a moment in what appeared to be his attempt at a grin. “I was beginning to wonder when I’d run into you with all the commotion. How’s your father?”

“He’s been quite busy as of late, always popping in and out of the Ministry,” Draco supplied. The newly formed exchange allowed him to regain a calm disposition.

“Up to his usual then. I should invite him to the tournament. Your parents may enjoy watching Viktor claim the prize.” Igor already felt assured in the fact that he’d be picked and win. “It’d also give us a chance to catch up.”

“Feel free to send an owl, but I can’t be sure they’d come.” Draco almost rejected the notion. His feelings for Hermione, although easily hidden in front of others so far, might be detected by those who knew him better.

But feigning disinterest came easy to him. If anything, others noticed the lack of insults and name-calling. Pansy alluded to it in the morning by making a jab at Hermione, to which his comment fell short of the usual fire of loathing beneath.

If she included Harry and Ron, perhaps he could’ve mustered more of a retort full of his typical annoyance regarding the trio. He knew Pansy suspected nothing, as she never fathomed it possible to begin with.

“Nonsense,” Igor went on to say, lightly patting him on the back of his shoulder. “Your father owes me for not sending you to Durmstrang. You would have certainly excelled. You’d be among your own.”

Meaning no Muggle-born wizards were allowed to enroll, for he maintained a strict blood-purity policy. Plus, their education in the Dark Arts exceeded the curriculum of Hogwarts.

“My mother didn’t want me so far from home, otherwise I’m sure your school would fit me well.” He gave the answer expected of him, one not too long ago, he believed to be correct. More accurately, he still considered it a fact, a small part of him, however, wavered.

He raised his hands in a mock-surrender motion. “I respect Narcissa too much to argue.” He nodded his head, indicating Draco to follow him, pacing a couple of steps before continuing. “I’ve heard a few rumors a while back. Dumbledore all but shied away from them. Something about the Dark Lord sharing the body of a professor in your first year. Then, of course, the whole Chamber of Secrets trouble.”

Given how low Igor kept his voice, Draco figured he desired to keep the conversation between them. Yet he also detected the slightest quiver in his speech.

“Only if you believe Dumbledore and Potter on the account of Quirrel. I don’t doubt it to be true.” He hadn’t paid much mind to it since. He supposed the curiosity was warranted. “As for the Chamber, I never learned much out about it. My father knows more than me, though he never mentioned who opened it the first time. Why do you want to know?”

Igor stroked his goatee in a reflective manner, taking the information in. “Just trying to sort out a few unanswered questions… And you were at the Quidditch World Cup when the Dark Mark appeared? Any thoughts on who cast it?”

Draco knew Igor’s history, how the trial went. He turned in several of his fellow Death Eaters in exchange for pardoning his crimes. Which came across as nothing less than Lucius claiming to be acting under the Imperius Curse.

Still, Igor came off a little too inquisitive in his roundabout inquiries involving Voldemort.

Draco shrugged, unsure what information he should delve into. “Could have been anyone, don’t you think? Were you not there yourself?”

“No, I had other business to attend to.” Igor paused and quickly glanced around them before announcing his need for departure. “I should get that letter written sooner rather than later. I’m sure we’ll see more of one another.”

Draco watched him walk away in a hurried fashion, letting the discussion drift to the back of his mind. He felt no need to linger on it.

He wondered the grounds for a little while longer, stopping to talk to a group of Durmstrang students. They ended up accompanying him on the way back to the castle.

He felt as if discussion flowed freely between them, some very agreeable with his views and opinions. Perhaps their school would’ve served him better in companionship.

Here he never gained the type of friendship he witnessed every day. People sniggered at his jokes and circled around in small groups. But who’d really miss him? (For some reason an image of Hermione flickered regarding the thought).

In the end, Draco preferred she to never find out about his feelings, not persuaded by any means to believe she’d think of him as anything more than the boy who constantly called her a Mudblood and mocked her friends relentlessly.

After lunch he drifted back to Crabbe and Goyle. Neither offered many words for a simulating debate, even so the two tended to stick by him. Next thing he knew, Draco found himself in the courtyard, the pair following in tow, entertained by pushing around a few first years. He really needed a good laugh, after all. It helped lift the weight from the inner conflict he faced from caving in.

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #harry potter #the goblet of fire #not much happened in this chapter #but the small details are necessary for sure #nice comments are always appreciated #sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

Text

Not One of Many - Chapter Twenty One.

Huge thanks to everyone still reading this and offering lovely comments and reblogs, too!

Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,114

Warnings - 18+ content, adult audience only. Minors DNI!

“A cow’s heart? A bloody, fucking cow’s heart?” Magda’s eyes were so wide, they took on the appearance of saucers. “Mental bitch. Please, find out where she lives so I can go pay her a visit. I’ll knock her flat.”

As it was well known, Beth didn’t condone violence, but she appreciated the gesture of solidarity all the same. “Has anything else happened in the last week?”

She shook her head for lack of being able to speak for a moment, her mouth full of the olives they were sharing while they waited for their respective men to arrive at the bar they’d been sitting outside of for the last hour. It was the four of them, plus Marcus and his wife Della. “No, or at least, if she has been back then I wouldn’t have known. I’ve been at Alfie’s the entire time and when I’ve popped home to pick up more stuff, I haven’t had anything sinister waiting for me.”

“Can’t say I blame you for not being in a rush to head back,” Magda observed, spearing another olive and popping it into her mouth.

Beth’s eyebrows twitched, her lips twisting into a smug grin. “I’m not, but it has little to do with Talia and everything to do with Alfie.”

Her friend read between the lines sufficiently. “Mucky cow!”

“What? We’ve been together for six weeks; we’re still very much in the shagging each other ragged stage.”

“Come on the, indulge me. When was the last time you had sex?”

Beth looked thoughtful for a moment. “What time is it now?”

“Eight minutes past seven.” Magda picked up a napkin and playfully whacked her thigh with it, shaking her head.

“About six hours ago.” The look on her besties face had Beth in stitches. “What?”

“You and your lunchtime nookie!”

“I didn’t fancy a salad.”

“Oh, something more meat based, is what the lady called for?”

“It was definitely what my vagina was hankering after.” They both cracked up completely at that, Magda reaching to grip her thigh as she wailed with laughter. “Seriously, it’s him! He brings out the cock hungry slut in me. I’ve never been the kind of girl who wants it every day, I have things to do, I’m busy and so is he. But usually, we’ll have a quickie in the day and then something a little longer lasting at night, and it’s been like that for the last week. I’m loving it, but blimey, I’m sore!”

“Epsom salts, love. Put a handful in your bath water and it’ll help your poor, beaten up little cooch feel a little less like it’s had the sexual equivalent of being flung around a UFC octagon.” Magda couldn’t have timed that better, Beth spraying a mouthful of vodka and soda as she laughed, the comic reaction adding to her hilarious joke.

“Jesus Christ!” she choked, spluttering as she wailed, Magda laughing so hard at her reaction, no sound came out. It was one of those moments she knew she wouldn’t forget in a hurry; just how damned funny her bestie was. It also took her mind off the fact that wherever she was while out of the house, Beth constantly wondered whether she was being watched or followed. If she let it take over her life, she knew stress would begin to form there, and that was something she’d be loathed to let Talia witness.

Alfie was the next to arrive, shortly followed by Marcus and Della a few minutes later, then Dennis lastly twenty minutes later, exiting a cab and apologising profusely for being a little late. With their last person present and introductions given, the group walked down from the bar to The Ivy, where they had an outdoor table booked.

“Oi, I know what you’re doing, yeah. Stop that,” Alfie spoke quietly when he saw Beth turning to look around every few steps. “You can’t live your life literally looking over your shoulder. What can she do, ay? What can she possibly do other than make herself look like a complete nutter by sending pathetic attempts to rattle you, because she ain’t getting near you again, not physically anyway. You know I won’t let that happen, so don’t panic.”

“What about when I’m not with you?”

“Has she tried anything so far, when you’ve been out without me?” He had a point.

She half smiled, gripping his hand a little harder. “No.”

“And what do you do if she does threaten your safety?”

“Pull my perfume out and spray it in her eyes.” He knew Beth wasn’t the type of girl who would physically fight back, not the same as Magda, who would have had no qualms about punching her straight in the mouth. A perfume bottle, as he reminded her, was a legal version of mace, though, and just as effective in disarming a would-be attacker. He hoped that Talia would never go to that kind of violent extreme, but he was questioning the state of her mental health to have done what she had so far. Her behaviour was far from truly sane, although he did still hope that she’d get bored and move on when she realised her actions weren’t doing anything other than casting a negative reflection upon herself.

Luckily, Beth wouldn’t have to worry about Talia and her antics for much longer, though, not for a while, at least. The purpose of the meeting that night was so that everyone could get to know one another before they all took a holiday together, their destination Alfie’s villa out in Santorini. It was a little last minute for Magda and Dennis, Alfie, Marcus and Della already prepared since they’d planned it months ago, back when Alfie had more than just one girlfriend. He was happy to be only taking Beth, though, and her friends as well who were quickly becoming his, too. He thought they Wilkinson’s were fantastic.

The only hitch would be them arriving two days later than everyone else, on account of Magda not being able to get the full ten days off work required, so were flying out for a week instead. That mattered not to Beth; it had been a few years since she and her bestie had been away together, and after getting to know Della, too, they were all very much looking forward to it.

“You know, out of all of Alfie’s girls I’ve met in the last few years, it was Talia I took to the least,” Della confided after they’d eaten, the women all congregated at one end of their table, the guys at the other, Marcus sharing a story that was currently causing Alfie’s booming laugh to fill the air. “I always thought she was snooty, very aloof with other women, not a girl’s girl at all. She’d have two faces, though, the one he’d see with the dazzling smile, and the one she’d surreptitiously show you whenever he wasn’t looking.” Beth had of course shared the current situation with her.

“He’s such a sharp bloke, though! Surely, he saw it?” Magda voiced, shaking her head in wonder.

“Like I say, Magda, she was sneaky with it, until her paranoia obviously forced her mask to slip. I mean, what Beth wrote in her article about the possibility of being part of a poly relationship making these women display such behaviour was a very valid point, but I believe she was like that all along and just kept it very well hidden. She wanted him all to herself, that girl. It’s why she’s seemingly unable to deal with your lovely friend here having just that. I do not doubt that she is questioning ‘why her and not me?’ over the way things have ended up.”

It hadn’t been lost on Beth, that this was likely the reason for her antics, the jealousy eating her up that she’d taken the place of three others in Alfie’s heart, but most of all her.

“Yeah, absolutely that, you’re right. It’s the whole ‘what’s she got that I haven’t?’ going round in her head. Some women, they just live to compare themselves to others,” Magda chirped, Beth nodding vigorously as Della made a ‘ummhmm’ noise into her wine glass.

“I think if we’re brutally honest, we have to concede we all are, and it's how society wires us! I absolutely see it as a societal pressure, to be the best, to have it all.” Beth began, sipping her wine, about to sink her teeth into the topic. “I recently submitted an article reflecting such, in fact. No, but back to Talia. If she couldn’t see that it was her actions leading to the breakup, that isn’t on me. Like I said to Alfie on the night they broke up, whether she was like that all along, or whether his situation stirred it within her, the onus was still on her to adjust her behaviour in light of what she felt. She should have walked away when he told her he wasn’t about to cease enjoying Mimi and Amira together sexually, and why should’ve he?”

“I don’t want this to sound bitchy, or that I’m stirring or insinuating anything, but do you think he misses it, having multiple girls, perhaps on a sexual level? I’m sorry if that isn’t a question I should ask, but I just get the impression I can with you,” Della asked, taking her hand and squeezing to signify she meant absolutely nothing negative.

“No. I keep him very well catered to, sexually.”

Della smiled with mirth. “I sense you’re a naughty girl, Beth?”

Her eyebrows fluttered, her mouth tilting into a slight smirk.

“She’s bloody filthy!” Magda chimed. Della’s entertainment grew by the second.

“There's a reason why he calls me baby beast,” she began, the women all huddling a little closer, Della making a little noise of surprise. “He says I’m his sexual match, that he does things with me other women have never been comfortable enough for, never had the bravery to indulge in, but I trust him and that’s huge for him. He pushes me to my absolute sexual limits, we’re very adventurous with that. Honestly, he’s made me almost pass out before, it’s been so much! But he’s so experienced in it, how to treat someone submitting to him entirely that he’d never actually let that happen, and that in itself is a turn on. He’s just... he’s the best. I swear. Our sex life is wildfire!”

The woman gaped, open mouthed and giggling. “And I don’t mean to sound like one of those women who brags just how electric the sex she’s having is,” she was quick to add, Della waving her hand dismissively.

“Honey, we’ve been there, you’re all brand new and still raging for one another. Mind you, I expected for Marcus and I to calm down eventually and we never really have. It’s something about these powerful businessmen. They either have the desire to relinquish that control once in the bedroom, or they dominate in there, too. My husband is definitely the latter!”

“I’m lucky if Dennis takes his bloody socks off,” Magda joked with an eye roll, the other women laughing raucously. “No, I joke. He’s still got the right stuff, my hubby. Usually when he’s had a few drinks and likes for me to blindfold him.”

They sat swapping sex stories while enjoying more wine sent their way courtesy of Alfie, who winked at Beth, mouthing ‘love you’ at her, glad to see her and Della getting along well. It was very important to him, that she amalgamated into his world seamlessly. By the end of the night, the three women could barely wait to spend time with each other again in Greece two weeks from then, Beth and Alfie getting into a black cab, the former definitely feeling a little giddy from the wine.

“Oh yeah?” he muttered quietly, looking between her and where her hand trailed very high up his leg.

“Yeah. I’m so fucking cock hungry right now. You need to throw me down and fuck me as soon as we get home. I mean it, I want it brutal, I want it hot, I want everything you have to give me.” She ran her tongue up the side of his cheek, Alfie making a very appreciative face before turning to kiss her. “I’m wet just thinking of you being inside me.” Drunk Beth was naughty Beth, he was beginning to learn, her teeth nibbling at his earlobe, her hand discreetly pushing down her skirt and touching to the wetness within her underwear, removing it to push her dewy finger into his mouth.

He rumbled a groan, his cock beginning to stir. “Oh, darlin’. You’re gonna get it.” Thank fuck the taxi ride was only nine minutes from The Ivy back to his home. As soon as they were through the door, they were wildly invested in undressing one another, Alfie pinning her against the wall, his hands gliding up her sides and pulling her top off, hers unfastening his shirt with the kind of impatience that led to it being ripped open, buttons scattered across the floor as they staggered along again, raging for one another.

The kitchen was where they ended up, the island once again the location for their deviance, Alfie lifting her atop it after she’d shimmied out of her skirt and heels. His hands clutched at her thong, attempting to yank it clean off her, her teeth sharply prickling at his neck causing his cock to throb.

“Fuckin’ thing!” he growled when the material refused to relent, grabbing a knife from the block and sliding it between flesh and lace, literally cutting it from her. It was about the sexiest thing Beth had ever experienced, his hand yanking it away, pulling his cock from within the confines of his trousers and plunging into her with a hard thrust.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she cried out each time his hardness hit her deeply, filling her entirely to the hilt again and again as her inner muscles squeezed around him, enveloping him in slippery warmth. Pushing her back slightly he bent to lick and suck at her hardened nipples, pushing her all the way back until she was flat against the cold surface of the counter.

He then yanked off his trousers and boxers and vaulted up onto it, pushing her legs apart and plunging himself back into her, their mouths connecting again as he ran his fingers through her hair and began to pump into her at a furious pace. In her drunken state, he was everything and more that she needed, the weight of her man on top of her, the heat of his skin as it slid against hers, his thick cock ramming her voraciously as he groaned without reserve.

Sliding his arm under her leg he then levered it up, her knee touching her shoulder and allowing for the kind of deeper penetration that made her virtually whimper with ecstasy, his hand gently clutched at her neck as they continued to kiss, every nerve ending within them ablaze of lust. It was so hot, so erotically charged that she felt light headed with pleasure, crying out breathlessly, his public bone grinding against her clit with every single thrust that invaded her. God, he knew how to fuck.

Looking up at him she felt her heart skip several beats, Alfie resting his forehead to hers and running his fingertips down her cheek before he began kissing and licking the side of her neck, Beth closing her eyes and feeling a hot, tight ball of pleasure start to pulse within her.

It was heated, primal, raw sex, their moans filling the kitchen as they kissed wildly, hands all over each other. “Oh god, ahhhh!” she cried out, her body tensing and moving against him in perfect sexual sync, her nails trailing sensuously down his back and her groans becoming louder, lost in the abyss of complete sexual euphoria.

Her breathing became ragged as he began moving so hard and quick within her dripping wet cunt that his guttural groans of an all-consuming, white-hot orgasm were the catalyst to her own, both beyond control as they slipped over the edge, the build-up now giving way to the utter divine.

“Fuck!” she screamed, her body jolting against his as the pleasure consumed her completely, her head falling back against the island as she closed her eyes, her head spinning. It had nothing to do with the alcohol she’d consumed either. This was one hundred percent cock drunk from being fucked so thoroughly. But Alfie being Alfie, she knew he would be nowhere near finished with her.

Taking her upstairs, he went about proving that to her immediately as well.

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 1 year

Text

The Marali Festival Commentary Part 1

Honestly I’m really rather excited to do commentary for this fic, because I realized as I was doing my “Year in Review” that I couldn’t pinpoint any single scene or line that stuck out to me. THERE WERE SO MUCH in this fic that I loved, I couldn’t even narrow it down. So if you’ll indulge me, I’d be able to talk about it now. 😁

**SPOILERS FOR THIS FIC BELOW**

Chapter 1- Leave a Note

So first off, I feel like it’s worth mentioning again that this fic was made from a Valentine’s prompt list that was supposed to be 14 separate drabbles, and I was like “why not make it fit to one fic”! All it took was writing this chapter for me to know exactly how I wanted this fic to go (with some minor exceptions that I’ll get to with the later chapter commentaries).

If there is a chance you could even possibly feel the same, meet me on the sixth night of the Marali Festival. I will prepare a gift worthy of the Hero of Erebor. If I should fail at such a task, I hope that nothing changes between us. For you, Bilbo, are a gem greater than any the Halls of Erebor have seen before, and I am just the dwarf whose foolish heart stubbornly longs for you.

Forever Yours,

-T

Literally. Every. Person. Who. Commented. Knew exactly who “T” was.🤣 I think the biggest twist was the sincerity of the note as a lot of people thought Tabor was actually in love with Bilbo.

However, Thorin never did anything about it leaving Bilbo to believe that he did not return his affections or he could not. Bilbo played ignorant on the former and made his peace with the latter.

This was one of my favorite lines in this chapter. Do you guys ever write those lines that you’re like “I could make a whole AU on my own fanfic just off this line?” This was the line for me.

When I finished this chapter, I anticipated Bilbo being ridiculously flirty and Thorin just being like ‘wtf’. But by the next chapter, I realized how hard that was without giving away the fact that Thorin didn’t write the note so I had to adjust a bit with how Thorin reacted.

Chapter 2- Flowers

“So Bilbo, what about you? Trying your hand at swordplay for the festival?”

“Most assuredly not.” The hobbit answered with a huff. “After all, I am no King’s Champion. Besides, Dwalin already told me there was no division for letter openers.”

So it needs to be noted that I had just finished Guardian of Kings, and was riding a bit of a high afterwards. So there are several nods to my fic throughout just because it was hard for me to completely let go of my first finished multi-chapter fic.

“Marali means ‘an element of passion’.” Balin corrected. “So we celebrate all that we are passionate about.”

This was actually more about Sunny fitting the story to the word prompts and less about what I thought dwarves were actually ‘passionate about’ BUT IT WORKED!

Chapter 3- A Small Favor

THIS CHAPTER WAS PROBABLY MY FAVORITE, AND DEFINITELY MY MOST ANTICIPATED ONE! This was also the last chapter I had finished ahead of schedule. Every chapter after this I wrote out on the day I posted it.

“Thank you, Master Baggins!” The young dwarf bowed, ready to charge down the path before pausing with a blush on his cheeks. “You really are…incredible.”

My hint towards it being Tabor (not that anyone needed it), but I really did want to convey that he admires Bilbo even if he’s not actually in love with him.

On the other side of the arena, leaning against the wall, was his dwarf king. Bilbo felt his mouth go dry at seeing Thorin, bare chest glistening with sweat in the midday sun, as he took a swig from his canteen. Water slipped from behind his lips and trailed down his bearded chin…

You’re welcome for the fan service here.

“I see.” Bilbo hummed. “And must they be…t-tunicless?”

“Of course.” Ori was the one to answer matter-of-factly, not looking up from his quill and book. “It’s the ‘Passion of the Warrior’, showing off not just skill but battle legacies as well.”

What Ori meant to say is how else can Sunny torture Bilbo and her readers with how physically attractive Thorin is? 😏

"You know, something beloved that will make Thorin realize he has...your support." Ori interjected, fighting a suspicious blush taking over his cheeks.

It needs to be noted that I was still on the fence about posting this fic when @lordoftherazzles sent me an ask for a WIP game, and immediately fell in love based on this line.🤣 Good job Razzy, way to pressure me into writing.

Bilbo thrust his white handkerchief with his custom “BB” embroidery into the dwarf’s hand. Thorin regarded the cloth with confusion before raising a brow at Bilbo.

“Thanks.” He grunted before proceeding to use it to mop up the sweat, blood, and grim accumulated on his face.

Bilbo’s smile turned to a grimace as Thorin handed the soiled item back to Bilbo. He took it between his two fingers, finding it somehow more attractive on Thorin’s face rather than his handkerchief.

THIS WAS ‘THE SCENE’. I saw this in my head vividly before I had even fully decided on how the rest of the festival was going to go. I love twisting tropes and this is just such a classic (and unfortunately very influenced by Shrek).

His hand fell upon his little ring he always carried in his pocket, and his heart raced slightly at the thought of parting with it. No, that was better kept with him.

The hardest part of any ‘Bilbo remains in Erebor’ fic. How much do you mention the Ring...

“Heor, an old…rival of Thorin’s.” Kili hummed.

More fic stealing! 😄

A shy smile graced Thorin’s lips as he ducked his head, but his blue eyes sought him back out with their sparkling awe. And because Bilbo’s courage seemed to fade under such a gaze, he was only able to nod, straighten out his waistcoat, and march heavily back to his seat. Had he turned back though, he would have seen Thorin hold the button reverently in his hand before pressing it gently to his lips.

A perfect line to end on and @ye3honk did some AMAZING art for this scene in particular that I can’t get over. 😍

#sunny's greatest hits #the hobbit #bagginshield #the marali festival #commentary day 1 #did anyone have any favorite scenes from these chapters?

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reidscanehand · 3 years

Note

“if i loved you less, i might be able to talk about it more” for spencer please?

i’m not sure if this counts as a dialogue prompt bc it’s a book quote so feel free to ignore it !! but i know you love austen so thought it’d be cute (if it’s too much pressure bc you love the books, no worries !!)

Spencer Reid never thought he'd have something like this. The years of loneliness piled onto his pre-existent trauma made him feel as though there was never enough good about him to make up for the bad.

But then he'd met you. Beautiful, wonderful, and oh-so-very-kind you. Falling in love with you had been stupidly simple. Cliche, even. From the moment he'd met you, your kindness had enveloped him in an almost caress-like warmth, filling in the cracks in his heart and soul from the inside out.

You'd nodded sweetly in understanding when he'd admitted he didn't want to shake your hand the day you'd joined the team. You'd asked him to explain geographical profiling to the most minute of details when you'd realized he needed a breather from the complexity of your first case. You'd played chess with him on the jet, smiling as he explained the game and losing to him every single time with the biggest grin on your face. You'd noticed his insecurity, of course, it was difficult not to notice, but you were one of the first new people in Spencer's life to do something about it. There was an awkward tilt of your head in his periphery as he made a self-deprecating comment, someone taking him up on his offers of oddball festivals and niche film festivals. Someone who took the time to call him and check on him after cases. Someone who made sure he was eating and drinking water in between sugary sweet coffees.

Someone for whom his feelings only grew stronger and yet more tender as they progressed. And someone who - thankfully - felt the same way about him. Then it wasn't a cliche anymore - it was a joyous reality.

And now it's just the two of you. The two of you living together in his apartment. The two of you sprawled out on his sofa. His head is in your lap and you're gently combing through his hair with your fingers, reading a book out loud. He'd been doing the same for you until about an hour ago, but then you'd insisted on switching when he'd yawned. You encouraged him to sleep, and when he'd pouted playfully about missing out on the chapter (even though he definitely already knows the entire book from memory), you'd rolled your eyes, but sweetly agreed to "catch him up" at another time.

Happier than he's ever been, he's sure, he's almost lulled to sleep - almost - when he hears you reach his favorite part:

“'My dearest Emma,' said he, 'for dearest you will always be, whatever the event of this hour’s conversation, my dearest, most beloved Emma⁠—tell me at once. Say ‘No,’ if it is to be said.'—She could really say nothing.⁠—'You are silent,' he cried, with great animation; 'absolutely silent! at present I ask no more,'" you read in your quiet, soothing timbre. "Emma was almost ready to sink under the agitation of this moment. The dread of being awakened from the happiest dream, was perhaps the most prominent feeling.

'I cannot make speeches, Emma,' he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing-"

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more," Spencer whispers with you. You stop abruptly, smiling down at him with such adoration that he's sure his heart, his brain stops for just a moment, just to let him live in the moment a little longer. You lean down, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, cupping his jaw and running your thumb over his nose and cheekbones.

You clear your throat a bit, sitting back up and pulling the book back into your eye line, "And so we go on."

So we do, Spencer thinks as he begins to fall asleep, forevermore.

~~~

Thank you for the request - I hope you like it! xx

#spencer reid #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #rchpromptblurbs

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neonlights92 · 3 years

Text

RUN: Chapter VII (Epilogue.)

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for. He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants. So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly. And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook. So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos. How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

Hey friends! Enjoy the epilogue <3 Namjoonie next..

You were pissed.

Jungkook had promised you he wouldn’t be late tonight.

It was your one year anniversary - one whole year of being married to the love of your life - and you were meant to be celebrating at a fancy restaurant with champagne and good food.

You’d gotten all dressed up - squeezed yourself into some ridiculous contraption of a dress - just for him, and now it looked like you were going to miss your booking.

Eight o’clock passed…

Then eight-thirty…

Then nine…

By the time your husband finally decided to make an appearance it was more than an hour passed your reservation time. You’d taken off your dress - kicked off your heels - and made a move on your makeup when the door to your bedroom clicked open.

“Hi Angel…”

Jungkook’s sheepish tone greeted - and you chose not to answer - instead glaring at his reflection in your vanity mirror.

“I know, I know I’m late,” He’s pulled his tie and blazer off, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his forearms. You chose not to comment on the suspiciously red coloured stains peppering his collar.

“Happy anniversary to us, I guess.” Your own voice was sharp and angry - in the year you’d been married to Jungkook he had made you feel special and loved - but that didn’t mean he still didn’t fuck up.

“I’m sorry baby,” He moved towards you quickly, and you stood turning to face him, “It was - y’know… God. It’s Bangtan.” The desperation on his face pulled at your heart strings.

You knew your husband’s job was important - you knew that as a member of the Special Seven - as Bangtan’s shadow he had more responsibilities than he would probably ever tell you.

And you knew that you wouldn’t be able to stay mad at him for long.

But still. It was meant to be a special night for the two of you. An acknowledgement of everything you’d been through together.

An acknowledgement of your love for one another.

You couldn’t help that you were disappointed.

“It’s alright,” You shrugged, “It’s part of the package, right?”

He sighed heavily and reached up to push some of your hair out of your face, “I hate disappointing you.” His tone was tender and a little more of your anger fizzled out, “I love you so much Angel. I always want to be with you - I always want to make you happy. But I’m not always very good at it, huh?”

You chose not to say anything - slipping your bottom lip between your teeth and staring into the eyes of the man who had changed your life.

God. Your heart swelled to nearly three times it’s size at the look on his face.

Such reverence and adoration - like you were a work of art.

He always made you feel special, like that.

“I’m sorry baby,” His voice was sincere, “I really am. I know tonight was meant to be special…. God. What kind of husband leaves their wife waiting for them on their anniversary?”

He laughed without humour, and you felt a stab of guilt.

“It’s okay Jungkook,” You licked your bottom lip and shrugged, “We’ll celebrate another time.”

He touched your face gently and frowned, “I know you’re disappointed… And you have every right to be, Y/N. Tonight should’ve been about us.”

You sighed heavily, “What kept you out so late?”

His eyes darkened and you noticed for the first time how tired he seemed. He’d been out all day - and if the blood on his shirt was any indicator it hadn’t been easy.

“Namjoon.” He answered hoarsely, “He barely comes out on missions with us anymore. Barely wants to be around any of us…”

You felt a stab of guilt.

Since the night you’d been kidnapped almost four months ago, Kim Namjoon had turned into a shell of his former self. You knew you couldn’t have done anything - you were just as much a victim of Sana’s brutality as he was - but you still felt awful.

“What happened?”

“We tried to help him… Lord knows we’re all emotionally constipated. But Jimin thought it might be nice to take him out for lunch. So we did. And then…” Jungkook shook his head, “Namjoon cut himself with his steak knife. He hasn’t gotten used to his prosthetics yet.”

“The blood?” He clicked his tongue, “He was sitting beside me.”

You instantly felt terrible. You moved to wrap your arms around your husband, pulling him down for a fierce kiss.

“I’m sorry baby,” You whispered against his mouth, “I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head and frowned, “No stop - don’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t take you out for anniversary meals like normal couples. I’m sorry I come home with blood on my shirt -”

“It’s okay Jungkookie.” You pressed a hand to his cheek and he smiled softly at the nickname he’d begrudgingly accepted, “I know who you are - I know the world we live in. I accept it. I accept you. Is it annoying? Of course. But I won’t give up on us. Ever.”

He leaned into your touch and kissed your palm, “I love you baby.”

“Me too.”

“Next time though, text me alright?” You pulled a face, “I wouldn’t have bothered getting dressed up.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I will Angel.”

He spent the rest of the evening showing you just how sorry he was, and how much he absolutely adored you.

Needless to say, it wasn’t the worst way to spend an anniversary.

“I have something to tell you.” Nayeon had shown up not five minutes ago, with a promise that you had to sit down and listen to her.

You’d obliged of course - she was your best friend after all.

But her confession had knocked the air out of you.

“I’m getting married.”

She was grinning from ear to ear. You almost dropped the cup of tea you were drinking.

“What?”

“I’m getting married.” She didn’t seem upset, “That’s why I came round.”

“To who?”

Her smile widened, “Song Mino.”

“Oh!” You mirrored her expression, “Song Mino. He’s… Nice.”

“And hot.”

Your face flushed and you nudged Nayeon playfully, “Stop it.”

“I’m happy.” She told you honestly, “I might not know him very well but he seems like a decent guy. And like I said… Hot.” You laughed this time at your friend’s unabashed appreciation of her husband-to-be and clicked your tongue, “Well if you’re happy sweetie, then so am I.”

“My dad told me last night. Mino’s father approves - so does Taehyung….” Her eyes flitted to yours guiltily and immediately you realised what this was.

A setup.

“You want me to tell Jungkook.”

Her lips stretched into a thin line. She grimaced.

“Yes.”

“Why can’t you tell him?”

She frowned deeply, “Because Jungkook’s hated Song Mino ever since they were kids and he stole Jungkook’s first girlfriend.”

“Your brother is not that petty.”

“Yes he is.” She raised a brow and scoffed, “Don’t tell me you don’t know that about him.”

You bit back a laugh at the thought of Jungkook holding a grudge for as long as he apparently had with Mino. Then you frowned. Tonight was meant to be a different kind of surprise for your husband.

“I also had some big news for Jungkook tonight. I was going to wait to tell you but since you’re already here….”

For a brief moment Nayeon seemed confused by what you’d said before her eyes widened and she shot out of her seat. She moved towards you like you were a glass of water and she hadn’t drunk in a week.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” She pulled you in for a hug, “You’re pregnant aren’t you? Oh my God! How far along?”

You laughed at your friend, “I only found out this morning. We’ve been trying for a couple of months… But I’ve only missed one period.”

Nayeon’s eyes were sparkling with tears and you were sure your own weren’t too far off, “Oh my god! Don’t worry about telling him about the wedding. I’ll do that sweetie. You just worry about telling my brother he’s going to be a dad!”

A loud thud caught both your attention and you turned sharply to find the brother in question - your husband - staring at you both in shock.

“Wait… What?”

Jungkook’s eyes flitted between yours and his sister’s. He blinked slowly, as if slotting everything into place.

Nayeon pulled away from you quickly and shot you an apologetic look.

“Surprise?” She said to her brother with a weak smile before grabbing her things and making a nervous beeline for the exit.

Nayeon mouthed “I’m sorry” to you as she disappeared and you had to stop yourself from laughing at the entire situation. Of course it would all happen like this.

“Was she… Was that…”

You stood quickly and moved towards your husband, cupping his face in your hands softly. Your eyes roved his his features carefully, looking for any sign of apprehension. But all you saw was surprise… And joy.

“I’m going to be a dad?” He whispered, eyes wide, “For real?”

“For real.” You smiled up at him and pressed a kiss to his lips, “You’re going to be the best dad.”

He broke out into a wide grin and bundled you up in a hug, raining his own kisses down across your face.

“Oh my god Angel. We’re going to be parents. Oh my God!”

You giggled at his reaction and squealed when he lifted you off your feet.

“Pregnant wife.” You warned him, and he put you down quickly, patting your head and shoulders to check for signs of injury.

“Oh my god. Pregnant wife,” His smile was dazzling, “I love you so much Angel.”

“I love you too Jungkookie.”

You had spent so long running from your feelings for Jungkook. And he’d done the same.

Thank God you finally decided to stop and rest.

Things would never be perfect - but you were happy. And so was he.

And that was all that really mattered to you.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook #run #mafia au #bts #romance #arranged marriage au #kpop x reader

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andreafmn · 3 years

Text

Collision - Chapter 4

Word Count: 3,821

Characters: Female Reader Uley Character, Sam Uley, Allison Uley, Charlie Swan, Bella Swan, Seth Clearwater, Billy Black, Jacob Black, Emily Young, Paul Lahote, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Leah Clearwater

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life at its first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Twilight, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. The only thing I own is Uley Reader insert, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 4/?

A/N: Don’t know if I ever mentioned it, but the story takes place before New Moon but after Twilight. It starts at the end of May after the dance, so it’d be the summer before Bella’s birthday in September. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

TikTok • Instagram • Business

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Chapter 4

The next time she awoke she was back in sight of the blinding hospital lights. Her head was heavily pounding and the clothes on her body felt alien to her. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the white lights of the sanitized room, but they were suddenly off.

“Back again, Miss Uley?” She recognized the voice, Dr. Cullen. “I’ve already turned the lights off so don’t worry about that.”

Her eyes finally opened to reveal the smooth pale face of the doctor. A wave of calmness rushed over her as soon as her eyes connected with his golden ones.

“What can I say?” She chuckled. “I just couldn’t stay away.”

“Well, it seems you’ve been having a recurring headache, insomnia, memory lapses, and a lack of appetite. It looks like post-concussive syndrome. Your mom told us you were feeling like this for a few days, why didn’t you come back?” Carlisle questioned. He was trying his best to look like he was breathing but if he took even a single breath all his years of self-control would be over in an instant.

“I thought if I could just make it to at least seven days it could clear me from coming back to the hospital, at least as a patient.”

“What do you mean?” This comment had perked the interest of the man. Thoughts raced through his head faster than he could analyze them.

“I was thinking of applying for a medical assistant job here in the hospital. I recently got my degree in biology, and I’ve been thinking of going to medical school after.”

“That sounds like a plan, but let’s work on getting you better first.” It did sound like a good plan to Carlisle. He wanted to be as close as possible to her every single day, but it also meant he would have to work triple as hard to control his thirst. “We’d like to keep you for the next few days and make sure you’re in good health before you can go back to business as usual.”

“How long would a few days be?”

“About four to five days, just to make sure that the symptoms don’t worsen, and we can give you an all-clear.” It would also give him a few days to grow accustomed to her smell. “We can work over that application for medical assistant, make sure it’s something you want to do.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” She smiled at the man in front of her, her heart fluttering with every breath she took. “Thank you, Dr. Cullen.”

“Please, call me Carlisle,” he smiled. “Now, why don’t you continue resting, and whatever you need just call. My office is right down the hall, I’ll be here in no time.”

The girl stared at the retreating form of his body and covered the heat that was rising to her face with her pillow. The butterflies in her stomach had made her uneasy and had her hands shaking. She didn’t understand why she was feeling this way. It had only been a week since her first encounter with the doctor, but those few seconds were enough to have her drooling over the man like a lovesick schoolgirl.

A few days had come and gone quickly. (Y/N) had grown attached to Carlisle, seeing and talking to him every day had felt like a dream. In his free time, she would go over to his office and pick a book to read, which they talked about the next day. They spent hours talking about nothing and everything.

It had been a long time since Carlisle had felt this way, centuries. Being around her had gotten easier each day that passed. Her smell becoming comforting instead of a trigger to the endless hunger for human blood – he’d never had a simple drop of it, but nothing could explain how much he wanted to have hers. Getting to know her had been a welcomed activity by the young doctor. He could spend days upon days listening to the sweet sound of her voice, admiring her curious-filled face when she started a new book – which she read swiftly, taking only a couple of hours to finish most of them.

“Can’t believe you have so many first editions, and you leave them at work.” She ran her hand across the spine of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment. “I would keep them in a well-preserved chamber, and no one would be able to even breathe on them.”

Carlisle smiled as the girl gawked once again at his book collection. It wasn’t hard to acquire first edition novels when you were alive when they were published. “If you’re impressed by this collection, you’d be completely astonished by the one I have back home.”

“You have more?!” He nodded. The girl shined like a kid on Christmas, her eyes gleaming at the thought of a big library. “Oh, that sounds like a dream.”

“You’re more than welcome to come over any time. It’s always refreshing to meet a literature aficionado such as myself.”

“Really? That’d be amazing!” She grinned brightly. “I could spend all day reading, forget about work.”

The duo laughed. “Too late to withdraw the application but you’re always welcome to pass your downtime in my office.”

“Sounds like a plan,’’ she smiled. “Now, doctor, what will you ever do now that I’m not going to be here every day?”

“Oh, how will I ever go on?” He chuckled. “But if you ever need help during that time, just come by. My office is always open. And hopefully, you’ll visit from time to time on personal time.”

“I’m sure it’s something that can be arranged.”

If there was still blood rushing through his veins, the capillaries in his face would have widened. He felt like he now understood Edward; how being with her made him feel human again. And there was nothing more that he wanted than to take their friendship to another level, but he wasn’t sure if she would ever feel the same. Carlisle knew that she was unaware of the supernatural since (Y/N) had allowed him to be in her life. But what would happen once she knew everything? How could he ever come between her and her family?

“Miss Uley, your mother is here,” a nurse spoke up, peeking her head through the office door. “Discharge papers have already been filed.”

“Thank you, Nurse Dalen. She’ll be out in a moment.” Carlisle smiled.

“Well, the time has come.” (Y/N) took her phone out of her back pocket and handed it to the doctor. He looked at her with a question-ridden gaze. “I’m gonna need your phone number so we can arrange any future endeavors.”

“Right,” he laughed, typing his number into her directory. “I’ll be waiting for that call.”

“I’ll be making it soon enough,” she grinned. “I’m gonna go now. I’ll see you around, Cullen.”

“I’ll see you, Uley.”

She left the office with a huge smile on her face, holding her phone close to her chest. For the first time, she was experiencing something she had heard of most of her teenage years. Once she had met Carlisle all she wanted to do was get to know him better, spend her time with him, just being near him would suffice. It was the first time she was learning what falling for someone was, and even though it was scary, she was jumping in headfirst.

“Hi, honey. Ready to go home?” Allison hugged her daughter for the first time in five days. (Y/N) nodded, truly ready to finally sleep on her own bed.

“So, how are you liking Dr. Cullen?”

“MOM!” Allison laughed at her daughter’s reaction. It was easy to see that (Y/N) had taken a liking to Carlisle Cullen, and vice versa.

“What, darling? If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck.”

“It’s not like that, mom.”

“But you’d like it to be like that.”

“I’m not talking about that with my mother.” (Y/N) placed her cold hands on her cheeks, trying to cool down the warm blood that had rushed onto her cheeks. The cool air of the car’s A/C was only helping her so much.

“I just want you to be careful with that, honey. He’s older than you, technically has kids, and rumor has it he is married.”

A breath hitched in her throat. Married? She knew he had adopted five kids, most of them her age, but not that he was married. Had she read the situation wrong? He didn’t wear a ring, he didn’t mention any relationship, he had no pictures of a woman in his office. Then again, they had only spent five days together at the hospital. She didn’t know what he did when he went home at night, who he went home to at night. (Y/N) shouldn’t feel betrayed—they weren’t anything, and they weren’t on track to become anything.

“Don’t worry, mom. I’ve just been picking his brain about working in the hospital, and he’s been helping me with what I’m gonna be doing this summer.”

“Oh, have you decided what you want to do?”

“I’m gonna get my medical assistant certification. It’s a three-month course then I can work at the hospital.”

“That’s great, honey.” Allison smiled at her daughter from the driver’s side. “Is that where you’d see yourself making a career?”

“Not sure. I want to take this time to see if life in a hospital is truly where I’d like to work – see if medical school would be it for me.”

(Y/N) hadn’t taken the time to focus on her future. In her high school career, she spent her time focusing on the present and piling on as much as she could, and now she had no sense of direction. She would take every day as it came, hoping one day she would find her purpose.

Finally, back home, she hopped off the truck and stretched out her limbs, stiff from the days on a hospital bed. Taking a deep breath of fresh air and basking in the afternoon sun. The cold that had seeped into her bones from the hospital melted off, and she smiled feeling the warmth surround her.

“Why don’t you go upstairs, honey?” Allison told her daughter. “There’s a surprise waiting for you in your room.”

(Y/N) smiled and quickly made her way up the stairs to see what her mom meant. Opening the door, tears forming in her eyes. Her room had done a 180-degree turn. The walls had been painted a light beige color, and plants hung from the walls bringing warmth to the room. The bed was adorned with a white cover, and a fluffy duvet to keep her warm at night. A wooden frame sat atop the bed dressed in white linen and ivy vines. A bookcase lived in the corner of her room, filled to the brim with her collection of hardbacks and peppered with potted plants. Opposite the bed was a small desk with a dark green suede chair, her laptop set up in the workspace. Her room finally felt like hers.

“Do you like it, honey?”

“Mom, did you do this?”

“I wish I could take credit, but your brother and your friend Paul came over when I was at work and redecorated. I was actually surprised that they even came over.”

“I’ll have to thank them,” (Y/N) grinned. Even though their relationship was strained at the moment, and she had yet to see Paul since coming back, she was glad that they had taken time out of their days to do this for her. “I’ll go over to Sam’s house for a bit, maybe now he’ll have time to see me.”

“Why don’t you go tomorrow, honey? You should take it easy.”

“I feel a lot better, mom. You don’t have to worry too much.”

“I’m your mother, I’ll always worry. If you’re gonna go out, go see Jacob. He was really worried about you.”

“I will.”

(Y/N) kissed her mother’s cheek and grabbed her bag to head out. Her first stop was to the Black residence. Jacob saw her coming down the street and ran out to wrap her in a hug. When she collapsed last week, he had been very concerned when she collapsed in his garage. Jacob was glad that she had made a full recovery and was now back home, with minimum side effects showing. The visit was short, only a quick hello to ensure the boy that she was okay.

After spending some time with Jacob, she walked towards Sam’s house – she hoped to catch Paul there too since she had heard he now spent his time there alongside Jared Cameron. It hadn’t clicked in her head why Paul would ever hang out with her brother and Jared. Even when they were back in middle school, he never paid them any mind, having a separate friend group. She had only become his friend by spending time with him away from school, and her brother had always disliked them together, claiming he was a bad influence.

Outside of the small house, (Y/N) could hear the low chatter of manly voices, a higher-pitched one joining after. There was no mistaking that Sam was home. She started feeling nervous as she raised her hand to knock on the door. The shaky limb was able to make contact with the blue door twice before it opened wide open, revealing a shirtless Paul Lahote.

“(Y/N)?” He questioned. Paul knew she was back, but Sam had given him clear instructions to stay away from her due to their situation.

“Hey, Paul. Long time no see, huh?” The girl smiled at her friend that now towered over her. A few years ago, they were still of the same stature, but too much time had passed since then. She went in for a hug, and Paul cut it short – worried she might note his burning temperature. “Is Sam home?”

“Uh, yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck, turning towards the kitchen. “Sam! (Y/N)’s here.”

The older male appeared in front of them, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Hey, (Y/N). Good to see you’re doing better. What brings you around?”

“I just wanted to thank you both for what you did in my room. Mom told me you worked on it while we were away. It’s a dream.” Sam smiled at his younger sister and shared a hug with the smaller girl.

“I’m glad you liked it, (Y/N). We wanted to give you a place where you could rest better after the accident. It’s the least we could do.” The alpha could hear the duo that was left in the kitchen had grown curious about who was at the door. “Do you want to come in for a bit?”

“Are you really inviting me in?” (Y/N) was taken aback – the last thing she thought was that she would get that invitation.

“Yeah, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Sam responded, keeping his doubts of the encounter to himself.

(Y/N) walked through the threshold and instantly felt the warm aura that emanated from inside of the house. It was a welcoming environment that she had grown to love from her own mother’s house. She walked behind Sam, Paul following behind them. `There was nothing that could prepare her to the sight she was met with.

In front of her stood a beautiful woman. She had tan skin, long black hair, and a beautiful smile. But there was something that stood out to her, something she was sure stood out to everyone – three long gashes ran through the front of her face. Yet, they didn’t distract from the alluring atmosphere that surrounded her. Sam moved to her side, and (Y/N) quickly connected the dots and figured that was Emily Young. The Uley girl wanted to be indifferent to her presence, knowing how one of her friends had been hurt by the union in front of her, she couldn’t help but note the love that radiated from the pair. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother as happy as he looked as he stared at his fiancé.

“(Y/N), it’s an honor to finally meet you.” Emily stretched out her hand towards the girl, which (Y/N) gladly took. “Sam has told me so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” (Y/N) joked. “Hopefully, we’ll have a chance to get to know each other more. I’d love to get to know the woman my brother is set to marry.”

“I’m sure we’ll have enough time now that you’re back.” Emily smiled and grabbed a basket filled with muffins, offering them to the girl. (Y/N) gladly took the baked good in her hand, picking at it and placing the piece in her mouth – a wonderful taste that quickly melted in her mouth. “You’re welcome over any time. Any family of Sam is family to me.”

“Thank you, Emily. I’ll be sure to take you up on that.”

Not much time passed before Sam had cut the meeting short, claiming there was something important the duo had to do. “We should do this another time, (Y/N). Paul and I have to go.”

“Go where?” (Y/N) questioned. “It’s already night, not much to do.”

“I can’t really tell you, sis. But it’s important.”

“So still guarding secrets?” Sam shrugged. “It’s fine, Sam. I’m growing used to it.”

“(Y/N)…”

“I can take a hint, Sam. I know when I’m not wanted,” (Y/N) smiled. “Thank you for the muffins, Emily. They were divine. I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer and visit sometime soon.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I’m sorry we had to cut this short.”

“It’s okay. I’ll see you guys.” (Y/N) took her bag and exited the house. She was confused on why Sam had welcomed her in only to have her leave soon after – there was something big he was hiding, and she needed to find out what it was.

“(Y/N), wait up!” Paul jogged up to her, turning her around. “Look, I hope you understand that we’re not trying to push you away on purpose. There are things that Sam is protecting you from.”

“Like what, Paul? What danger could possibly be surrounding us that he would stray from his family?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s not my place to tell you, (Y/N). As much as I hate keeping this from you, Sam would not allow it to come from anyone but himself.”

“Are you serious? What kind of power does he have over you?”

“PAUL!” Sam shouted, gaining the attention of his beta. “Let’s go.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I hope one day you’ll forgive us.” Paul kissed her forehead and went to meet up with his alpha.

(Y/N) stood still as she watched their bodies disappear into the woods. She debated whether to follow them for a brief second, but she was exhausted. She left back home with a million questions running through her head. The pair of Sam and Paul was a strange view, and she was determined to get to the bottom of things.

When she got home, (Y/N) noticed her mother asleep on the couch, the tv in front of her still playing. The years that passed were clear on her face, the worry that she carried for both her children plastered in the lines of her face. She could see the exhaustion that she held, years of caring for two kids by herself taking a toll on her. (Y/N) grabbed a blanket and laid it on top of her mother’s body, making sure that she was warm during the night. She left a kiss on her cheek, thankful for everything her mother had sacrificed for her.

After showering the day off, (Y/N) changed into her pajamas and laid in bed staring at her phone’s screen. She thought if she stared at it long enough a message would magically pop up. Minutes passed and her phone kept silent, not a single notification appearing on the screen. She scrolled through her directory until it landed on the newest listing. Carlisle Cullen, it read. Her finger clicked on it and selected new message.

Her fingers danced atop the keyboard of her phone, no words coming to her mind to send to the doctor. Should she even send him a message? What if he truly was married? She would never want to come between a couple. But her fingers did not follow her thought train. Unconsciously, they started typing away a message and before she could analyze her actions, she sent the message.

Hi, Carlisle. It’s (Y/N). I made it home okay and don’t have any symptoms, seems like you fixed me up! Anyways, wanted to know if you possibly had some free time this weekend to join me for some dinner at La Bella Italia. Hope you had a good rest of the day at work!

Her jaw fell when her screen read message sent. There was no way to delete it now. It was out there, and it would make its way to his phone. (Y/N)’s head fell onto her pillow and muffled a scream that escaped from her throat. This feeling was alien to her, and she was learning what steps to take to grow closer to the astonishing man. Minutes felt like an eternity to (Y/N), thinking that she had imploded the friendship she had built with the man over the past week.

Beep.

The sound from her phone caught her attention. She scrambled for her phone and quietly shrieked at the words on her screen.

Hello, (Y/N). I’m glad you’re feeling better, hopefully, no symptoms will arise once more. And I did have a good day at work, although I missed our afternoon book chats. I have a free day on Sunday. Tell me a time and I can meet you in Port Angeles. Hope that day is good for you.

“He said yes. If he were actually married, he wouldn’t have said yes,” she thought.

So, she typed back.

I’m glad you had a good day, and the book chats have an easy fix. I’m just a phone call away. As for Sunday, it’s a perfect day. I think around 5:30 would be a good time for dinner. Let me know if it works.

Sent.

Seconds later, another beep.

I’ll make sure to schedule those calls then. 5:30 sounds perfect. I’ll see you there. Have a good night, (Y/N).

See you then, Carlisle. Good night. 😊

(Y/N) smiled at her phone, joy wanting to burst from her body. She was reveling in this new feeling and the happiness it brought her. If it was Carlisle, it was worth it, she believed.

That night she went to sleep with the biggest smile she had experienced in her life. Unbeknownst to the life-changing moments that were to follow this meeting.

Tag List: @daniallh @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @imaginetwilight2704 @jessicas-undrground @hey-you-therexo @mauvette268 @mxyee @beefwhobarksandisalilmadalot

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yuyuntianyu · 3 years

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[2HA analysis blog] To love you is torment but leave you I cannot

I wanted to write this (hopefully not-too-long) blog to give 2HA fandom a different perspective of the events in the past timeline. I noticed that there are many little things that could not be carried over to the English language. These little things can give more explanations to our characters’ actions so I hope sharing this would help the novel make more sense. This blog focuses on Taxian-jun and Chu Fei.

Warning: Spoilers ! ! ! Taxian-jun and Chu Fei are their own trigger warnings ! ! !

Despite the novel having 350 chapters, we really know little about what happened between Taxian-jun and Chu Fei besides the abuse and mistreatment and that little is relayed to us by the Most Unreliable Narrator of the Cultivation World - Mo Ran Mo Weiyu. If we only take Mo Ran for his words then a lot of his and Chu Wanning’s decisions told later on would seem irrational and almost silly. So let’s dive deep in the past so we can understand how the great cultivator Beidou Xian-zun could raise such a dumb husky since the events in the past would explain the more irrational decisions made by both main characters.

Given Mo Ran’s narrator is about as reliable as his character in the first 120 chapters, we have to look at other more subtle clues and some of them are due to cultural and linguistic differences.

1. I used to like you a lot

At his coronation day, Taxian-jun stated that he once greatly looked up to Chu Wanning and that he used to love and respect him dearly. Maybe I am reading into this too much but this is my theory: The flower could erase the memory itself but cannot erase the feelings associated with the memory. He had his memories of the good deeds Chu Wanning did for him erased but still remembered that he used to love and respect him. It doesn’t make sense unless it is indeed that the flower could not erase its host’s feelings. So throughout the novel, Mo Ran’s complicated emotions are complicated possibly because he could not remember how he came to have these feelings. Similarly, Hua Binan could mess with the undead Taxian-jun’s memory to a great extent but could not erase his obsession with Chu Wanning.

2. I gave you a new title

Chu Fei. 楚妃. In the Imperial Chinese harem hierarchy, “Fei” means consort and not concubine (嬪 “Pín"). Consorts were highly respected positions in the palace weidling much political power and were only seconds to the Empress Consort. Another major difference is a consort would be married to the emperor while a concubine would not. So if Taxian-jun had truly wanted to only humiliate Chu Wanning and keep him for the carnal pleasures (I am intentionally ignoring his breeding kink completely), he would keep him as a concubine but he gave Chu Wanning the Consort title and hid him from the world. At this point, Taxian-jun had almost lost Chu Wanning once and had spent a lot of effort to bring him back from the verge of death after hearing Chu Wanning’s apology so his anger might have softened a bit. Also, given that Chu Wanning is a man, having a legitimate offspring ( (I am still intentionally ignoring Mo Ran's breeding kink completely) is not an issue so although this is not clearly stated, I believe Taxian-jun wanted to force a relationship and somewhat proper marriage on Chu Wanning. Another hint of this is in an Extra chapter where Taxian-jun tried to get Chu Wanning a birthday gift. He recalled that in his past timeline, he had wanted Chu Wanning to give him something on his birthday as well and that he had wanted Chu Wanning’s heart.

3. Shizun likes to write letters and poems

On Book 3 Chapter 247, Chu Wanning sat down and wrote a few unsent letters to the people he used to know. He also wrote a few lines of poetry. In the first few lines taken from different literature works, he expressed his sense of helplessness and his wish to remain untainted despite the circumstances. The more important two lines are from a poem written by a real poet named Fàn Chéngdà ( 范成大) who lived in the 12th century Southern-Song dynasty. The two lines read:

“May I be like the stars, may you* be as the moon. Night after night, may we shine together side by side.” **

*In the original work, the character used instead of you is “jun” 君 (as in 踏仙君 Taxian-jun). 君 could mean king, emperor, lord, or gentleman ** This is my rough translation - I haven’t found an English version of this poem

These two lines are commonly used in romantic novels as a way to express one’s unchanging love and loyalty to another person despite the circumstances. He compared himself as the stars and wanted to remain by Taxian-jun whom he viewed as the moon. Chu Wanning wrote this to express his willingness to stay but he would never voice this out loud. In the next timeline, he did the same thing by quietly loving and caring for Mo Ran 1.0 despite the mistreatment and was content with never expressing his feelings vocally. Mo Ran was rather uneducated and thus could not fully comprehend these two lines and misunderstood that Chu Wanning was missing Xue Meng.

4. You are all I have left

In chapter 252, after Chu Wanning returned to The Red Lotus Pavilion, he found Taxian-jun already waiting for him. Taxian-jun told Chu Wanning about a dream he had and said:

“I am afraid I don’t resent you… I want to resent you… Otherwise, I…” “In the end, it’s just you and I”.

This is not the first time he expressed that Chu Wanning was all he had left or they only had each other. I believe that at this point, Taxian-jun might have somewhat believed Chu Wanning and recognized that his memories were missing. His words and behaviors seemed a lot more gentle and he mentioned they did have periods of time where their marriage was easier. I believe it was after this point. He told us about the numerous times he attempted to spoil his consort or expressed his affection through gifts, a trip outside the palace, goods, jewels, and even teaching Chu Wanning how to cook or personally taking care of Chu Wanning when he was sick. At one point, Taxian-jun expressed his wish for a more peaceful marriage with Chu Wanning through his breeding kink by saying that if they had children, perhaps they would be more civil towards each other.

Edit: I really wanted to go about this blog without having to refer to their particular taste in bed

5. Are you still mad?

This is a smaller detail but in the original text and the Vietnamese official translation, the way they talked to each other had a bit more of the “husband-wife” dynamic. Especially Chu Wanning ( l┐(︶▽︶)┌ ), the comment section said he sounded like when your wife is mad that you didn’t take out the trash but still says: “I’m not mad” and Taxian-jun, the husband, would come around and ask “Are you still mad at me?” after every fight.

6. I did not think you would really leave me.

On Chapter 99, Mo Ran recalled the fight between him and Chu Wanning after an assassination attempt. In order to convince Mo Ran to not go to Taxue Palace, Chu Wanning said:

“If you destroy Taxue palace, if you kill Xue Meng, I will die before you”.

Now the line “I will die before you” in my language is less of a suicidal ideation but more of a threat. It's used when a person already knows that they are important to the other person and is using their own death as a threat to make the other person do something. This line is thrown around a lot during heated arguments between people close to each other but they almost never mean it. (Even my mom said it numerous times before T_T . I personally think it’s manipulative). Therefore, it is understandable Taxian-jun did not take this line seriously and replied almost mockingly. After all, they had been married for almost a decade at that point, Taxian-jun probably felt somewhat comfortable that Chu Wanning would not do anything reckless. He could not foresee that Chu Wanning meant what he said and actually followed through with his words. I believe that if Taxian-jun had known that Chu Wanning was serious, Taxian-jun would not have gone to Taxue Palace. 7. Don't leave me, ok?

Then Chu Wanning died and Mo Ran spent two years alone. In those two years, we know he basically went insane because of grief, talked to a corpse everyday, and deep fried his Empress Consort. But strangely enough, Mo Ran 1.0 did not immediately mention this after being reborn although it was the main reason he committed suicide. And at that point, it had been well over a decade since Shi Mei faked his death in the past timeline, yet Mo Ran 1.0 seemed to still hold a lot of resentment towards Chu Wanning. Also, he said he could accept Shi Mei’s death but would never accept Chu Wanning’s. So honestly, it did not make sense to me the first time I read the novel and I believed Mo Ran resented Chu Wanning for a different reason.

The answer was first hinted at in chapter 9 when Mo Ran scolded the sleeping Chu Wanning. He called Chu Wanning a donkey hoof (lol) and this is actually an idiom to scold someone who is disloyal and unfaithful in love. The puzzles came together when the undead Taxian-jun showed up and immediately went after Chu Wanning (and not Shi Mei). He believed Chu Wanning used his death to hurt him and was angry at Chu Wanning for leaving him. This is the resentment Mo Ran 1.0 carried over to the next timeline. He hated Chu Wanning for abandoning him. This is solidified in chapter 262 by the undead Taxian-jun pleading to Chu Wanning:

“Don’t betray me” “Don’t leave me the second time. The first time you left, I could choose death as a relief. This time, even death is not an option any more… I won’t be able to bear it…”

So there it is! I hope this blog brings some new information and feel free to discuss! Let me know if you have any questions for me ＼(￣▽￣)／

Disclaimer: Plenty of this is my conclusion drawn from the already ambiguous original text and various translations. Unless Meatbun says it, it’s not canon. I am looking at the novel in three different languages so I might have made some mistakes. Pls forgive. Also, I am not making excuses for Mo Ran 0.5’s actions nor am I justifying the abuse in any way. Chu Wanning never said Mo Ran 0.5 was innocent of these crimes nor will I.

#2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun #chu wanning #mo ran #mo weiyu #ranwan #taxian jun #chu fei #erha #husky is dumb but husky tried his best

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

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Curse-breaker (Chapter 4/4)

- ao3 -

“You know him, right?” Jiang Cheng asked Lan Xichen. He was trying not to appear as nervous as he felt in asking, but he was pretty sure he was failing. “Nie-gongzi?”

Lan Xichen smiled. “I do. And thank you for calling him that, he prefers it.”

There were those that had started calling him Curse-breaker, as if it were a proper title; Jiang Cheng had heard it said a few times, and while he didn’t personally disagree with the moniker, which seemed appropriate, he also knew better than to just drop it into a conversation.

Luckily. He was trying to make a good impression here.

“What’s he like?” Jiang Cheng blurted out, then immediately wanted to kick himself. “I mean – it’s just – I didn’t see him much when he visited the Lotus Pier –”

He was making it worse.

It was only that he’d never quite met anyone with so much presence as Nie Mingjue: taller even than Jiang Cheng’s father, with that strange eye that seemed to see everything and anything. His features were generally set in a neutral expression that made him seem almost unworldly, like some god untouched by human concerns, but which sometimes softened a little when he approved of something – or someone.

Jiang Cheng could feel his cheeks going red, and tried to suppress it.

“Mingjue-xiong liked you,” Lan Xichen said, and Jiang Cheng lost the battle at once, his whole face heating up until it felt unbearably hot. This was worse than the time that Nie Mingjue had come to the Lotus Pier and told his parents to value Jiang Cheng more or else, and then his father had come in with a smirk and a snarl and somehow made them do it. “He said so.”

“He did?”

“Oh, yes. He said you were talented and faithful, with a good heart, and that we’d see great things from you.”

Jiang Cheng was going to die.

“That’s nice,” he said, with an effort. “I thought very highly of him, too. He’s…great.”

Wow. ‘Great’. Was that really the best he could do?

Lan Xichen studied him for a moment, then nodded. “He really is,” he said, and sighed. “I had the same reaction, you know. He’s…a lot.”

Jiang Cheng felt seen. “I know,” he said effusively. “He’s just – you know?”

“I do,” Lan Xichen said. “Just –”

He waved his hand in the air. Not even making some sort of gesture, just a meaningless sort of wave, but for some reason Jiang Cheng understood him completely.

There really just weren’t words sometimes, when you wanted to describe things or people that inspired feelings that went beyond the merely describable. Nie Mingjue was one of those – Jiang Cheng had known that Lan Xichen would understand, and sure enough, he did.

And to think that Wei Wuxian liked Lan Wangji better!

Really, his shixiong might be more talented than Jiang Cheng in many ways, ways that were often a matter of jealousy, but Jiang Cheng clearly had better taste.

“Oh, there you are,” a voice said, and Jiang Cheng tensed and turned to look – but it was only Wen Qing, so that was fine. “Lan-gongzi, Jiang-gongzi, I was sent to spend some time with you.”

She probably meant that she was sent away so that the adults would have time to talk about issues they thought were too sensitive to involve the younger generation, or else they just wanted to start drinking earlier in the afternoon than usual and didn’t want her judging them from a medical standpoint. Either might be true – Wen Qing was widely acclaimed as one of the most talented in their generation, as terrifying with her needles as other people might be with their sword, from more or less the first moment she’d finally been allowed to join the rest of them on equal grounds.

They greeted her, trying to stand up to be polite, but she waved them down irritably and took a seat instead. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nie Mingjue,” Lan Xichen said, and Jiang Cheng nodded. “We were just commenting on his many admirable qualities.”

Jiang Cheng nodded a second time, even more emphatically.

Wen Qing looked at them both with that critical eye of hers for a long moment.

Then she sighed in a huff. “He’s really all that and more, isn’t he?” she said.

“He is,” Lan Xichen said.

“He’s just –” Jiang Cheng tried the same gesture as Lan Xichen earlier, and was gratified when Wen Qing started nodding herself in total agreement. “Right?”

“Right.”

Nie Mingjue was aware that many people liked to stare at them, but they had assumed it was because of how unusual they were – even putting aside the eye, which was their most obviously not-normal feature, their behavior was not always in line with regular people’s. They didn’t show their emotions on their face as easily, being more naturally inclined towards sternness, and their manner was both sharp and incisive, straightforward and blunt; they had missed critical years of social development while lost in what amounted to seclusion, too busy solidifying their sense of self, consolidating their we into an I.

(They were still trying to figure out gender, a process complicated by the fact that it hadn’t made much sense to either of them to begin with. They were starting to suspect it would be better to just give up on it entirely.)

It turned out, according to Nie Huaisang, that that was not why all those people were staring.

“When you say they like me…”

“Sexually or romantically attracted, usually both,” Nie Huaisang said. “You have a lot of would-be suitors. Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Wen Qing, Wen Ning, Jiang Yanli –”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to use their names directly like that,” Nie Mingjue said, though they weren’t sure about that. They’d forgotten more etiquette than they’d ever learned. “Also, isn’t Jiang Yanli getting married to Jin Zixuan?”

“He’s another of your admirers. As is Meng Yao…no, sorry, Jin Ziyao. You know he secretly thinks that you killed Jin Guangshan for him, right?”

They’d killed Jin Guangshan because he was rotten through and through, and he didn’t even have a qi deviation or a tormenting heart demon to blame for it. He just thought of people as things, even the ones he supposedly liked, and acted accordingly…they hadn’t really thought through the consequences of killing him when they’d done it, having long ago forgotten the concept of political considerations, but it was really amazing what could be covered up or excused if multiple sect leaders put their minds to it while the rest just breathed a sigh of relief that Jin Guangshan was gone.

“That seems like too many people,” they said. “They can’t all be my…admirers.”

“You think that’s it? I haven’t even gotten to Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian – both at once, if that’s your preferred flavor – and even that feral child Jin Ziyao found in Kuizhou…you know just the other week, he loudly declared that you were better than sweets and the entire room sighed all at once in agreement?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not. There are even rumors that say that Sect Leader Wen might be interested…”

They shrugged.

Nie Huaisang squinted at them. “Da-ge. Did you know about that one?”

“Sect Leader Wen is not subtle,” they said dryly. “But if it makes you feel better, his interest is purely a matter of cultivation, and also our father has already hit him for even making the suggestion.”

Nie Huaisang didn’t look impressed. “Are you sure it’s purely a matter of cultivation? Would you be able to tell if it wasn’t?”

Nie Mingjue considered how little they’d recognized any of the other people who were purportedly interested in them. “No,” they admitted.

“Hmm. What about Teacher Lan?”

“What about Teacher Lan?” they asked, suspicious.

“Nothing, nothing. Just something I read somewhere…”

Probably one of those spring books that he was always sneaking around, they concluded.

“Though…you have been going out of your way to meet up with Teacher Lan more often recently…”

“He’s helping me figure out some of the bureaucratic intricacies of changing succession,” they said. “He’s had the most experience, having to do it twice – once to get his brother out of the line of succession, and another to get him back in. He’s a good teacher.”

He was, too. For all of Nie Huaisang’s tall tales about Lan Qiren’s strictness and overly-rigid insistence on orthodoxy, the man himself had a very calming presence, still and tranquil. It made them think of a musical instrument and, using the Nie cultivation method as a base, start to think strange thoughts…

Though not the sorts of thoughts Nie Huaisang had in mind.

“I mean, I guess. Even I learned eventually, and – wait. Why do you need to know about how to change succession? You’re already the heir.”

“That’s the problem,” Nie Mingjue said. “I need to figure out how to abdicate my position in your favor.”

Nie Huaisang gaped at him.

“No, I’m not joking,” they said, because they knew their little brother. “I’m not suited for politics. I don’t think I ever was, and after everything that happened, I’m even less suited.”

They really weren’t. Too blunt, too sharp, too concerned with justice, too inhuman – they were good at fighting, in the sense that they knew how to be a saber as well as a human and could wield sharpness in the same way, a slash from their fingers being enough to cleave a man in half, but that wasn’t what being a sect leader was about.

No, Nie Huaisang would be much better at it.

“Da-ge, you can’t do this to me!” Nie Huaisang wailed. “Do you know how much work it’d be? Anyway, you can’t – our father’s already promised all of Qinghe Nie to your future spouse! So there!”

“Then I just won’t ever get married.”

“What?!” Nie Huaisang waved his hands wildly. “You can’t do that! You – you – do you know how many hearts you’d be breaking?!”

“So you’ve informed me,” Nie Mingjue said dryly. “It’s all right, Huaisang. I rather like the life Teacher Lan has made for himself, traveling all around and coming back every few seasons to teach something. I want to fight evil, and there’s a lot more evil out there than there is in here.”

Or, at minimum, there was more evil of the sort they were allowed to just stab. That was apparently frowned upon, in politics – there was a reason they said they weren’t suited for it.

“You’re not suited for fighting evil with a blade,” they added while Nie Huaisang was still spluttering. “But you can do wonders with people, if you’re given enough time to plan it. Being sect leader will put you in the position that will let you fight evil best, in your own way.”

“Not everything is about fighting evil, da-ge!”

“Isn’t it?”

Nie Huaisang didn’t seem to have a good answer to that.

After a while, he finally said, “…you really think I’d be good at it?”

Nie Mingjue pulled their younger brother in for a hug.

“You’ll be magnificent,” they promised.

They liked travel, just as they’d suspected they would.

People always recognized them – the eye was very distinctive, and they were also very tall – and immediately rushed over to share all their problems. They were very happy to help. Some of them they could fix personally, generally the ones that were stabbable, while they had a wide enough set of acquaintances to deal with many of the others: those who needed healing to go to the Lan sect or Wen sect, depending on whether problem was mental or physical; those that needed advancement to the Jin sect or Jiang sect; mysteries to be solved to the newly established Wei sect over in Yiling; and anyone with anything more abstruse than that over to Nie Huaisang personally to sort of.

Their little brother liked a good puzzle.

As for Nie Mingjue’s part, they liked fighting evil, and they liked helping people, too, if they could manage it, so it all worked out quite well. The road could be a little lonely at times, all alone with no one around, but it wasn’t really that bad. They were welcome at just about every cultivation sect and most of the other places they’d passed by, so it wasn’t like they were lacking for company if they wanted it.

It was only sometimes that they wished that there was someone else who might want to share this type of life with them.

It was a difficult life, always roving and never satisfied, intent on fighting evil for an eternity and prizing the doing of it over normal things, everyday things; they knew that they couldn’t ask someone else to take on a mission so absurd as stamping out all evil in the world, and so they didn’t. Who would be so foolish as that? Not everyone could leave behind all their responsibilities and ties to the world the way they did, passing instead through their beloved one’s lives by chance like a leaf tossed in the wind – nor should they, if those ties gave them joy.

Take their current mission, for example. One of Nie Mingjue’s earlier trips had taken them from Yiling to the Baixue Temple, with the highly unorthodox Wei sect’s equally unorthodox head disciple, Xue Yang, tagging along with them so that they could – in Wei Wuxian’s words – beat some sense into his head, and it had been on that trip that they had met Song Lan, who was thoroughly charmed by the idea of a sect established on principles of brotherhood rather than blood.

He'd also been rather charmed, they thought, by Xue Yang himself, and the interest had been mutual.

(They were getting better at recognizing that sort of thing.)

So Song Lan had gone off with them, with Nie Mingjue dropping both him and Xue Yang back in Yiling, and when he’d gone back again another time they had seemed very happy. But Song Lan had been thinking about his master and martial brothers back at home, and he’d asked if Nie Mingjue would be willing to carry along some letters that he didn’t dare trust to the post.

Nie Mingjue, suspecting a request regarding marriage was involved, had readily agreed. Sure enough, once they’d dropped it off, the entire Baixue Temple had all but exploded in excitement – they’d barely managed to make it out of there in time to avoid being dragged into all the fuss.

And now they were wandering around nearby, shaking their head in amusement at all the noise they’d left behind, looking for something more interesting to do. Some evil to fight, or something like that.

They found both.

“Well, that was exhilarating,” they commended to the cultivator in white that had worked together with them to defeat a rather astounding number of evil creatures in an effort to save some rogue cultivators who’d gotten in over their heads. Nie Mingjue’s reputation was already ridiculous, and was only going to get worse, they knew, but really this was a lot even for them. They wouldn’t have been able to manage it without help.

“It was,” the cultivator said, and smiled at them. “My name is Xiao Xingchen, disciple of Baoshan Sanren. Who are you?”

“Nie Mingjue,” they said. They thought they’d heard of Baoshan Sanren before, but they weren’t entirely sure – they had a tendency to forget things that weren’t that important to them. They thought it might be something to do with Wei Wuxian’s mother –something to do with the immortal mountain, and a doom that fell on those who descended from it…?

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did those rogue cultivators call you Curse-breaker?” Xiao Xingchen asked.

They thought about it for a moment, then shrugged.

Xiao Xingchen laughed.

It was a warm sound.

“Where are you going?” Nie Mingjue asked. “I can escort you, if you like.”

“Don’t you have things of your own to be doing?”

“Not really,” Nie Mingjue said. “I want to eradicate all evil in this world, a task that’ll take me a lifetime – and evil can be found anywhere. Why not with you?”

Xiao Xingchen ducked his head. “I don’t have a destination either,” he admitted. “I came down from the mountain because I wanted to help save all the people in the world.”

Nie Mingjue blinked. That was nearly as stupidly idealistic a goal as theirs.

“Well, then,” they said, and smiled. “In that case, why don’t we go together?”

It would be nice to have company, unrestrained by any obligations tied to the mortal world, and in return they could show Xiao Xingchen everything there was to see – introduce him to all the people, eat all the food, fight all the battles. And if in the end it turned out that that doom people talked about in regards to the mountain really was a thing…

Well, they’d see about that.

After all, Nie Mingjue had a bit of experience with curses like that.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #jiang cheng #lan xichen #wen qing #xiao xingchen #my fic #my fics #cursebreaker #hey remember when I asked for help in deciding the ship

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wedreamedlove · 3 years

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Zuo Ran’s Love Theme

This is going to bother me until I get it off my chest, especially when I have negative expectations of this being conveyed in any of the localizations.

But Zuo Ran says a line during Chapter 1 of the main story that is crucial to his character and his relationship with the heroine. It’s also repeated in his Character PV and his drunk date.

SPOILERS for Chapter 1 of the main story and touches upon Zuo Ran’s character, and will show images from [SSR One Step Away] and [SSR Two Inseparable Hearts].

So, in Chapter 1, Zuo Ran asks Zhai Xing to help him find a partner and, after giving her all the things he’s looking for, this is her response:

Zhai Xing (Voice Message): Zuo Ran, wake up! A person capable of being your mirror can only be encountered and not sought for, alright?!

Hearing Zhai Xing’s “roar”, Zuo Ran furrowed his brows again and then sighed.

His sight swept across the reference book on the table again and his slender fingers slid over the spine of the book.

Zuo Ran: Can only be encountered… and not sought for…

The phrase both of them are using here is 可遇而不可求 and the literal translation is above.

To make it clearer, what this phrase means is that what belongs in your life will come to you and what doesn’t belong to your life should not be forced. A wondrous thing can only be waited for and if it belongs to you then, when the opportunity comes, you put in the effort and you will get it. However, if it doesn’t belong to you, then even if you force it and obtain it for a short while you will still ultimately lose it in the end.

There is a subtle nuance here that I have not seen any other translation capture. The thing you want is not rare, it’s not hard to come by, but it’s also not something that can be gotten so long as you put enough work into it. The whole meaning of the phrase 可遇而不可求 is that you cannot go looking for what you want, because you won’t be able to find it.

However, it’s also not saying you can just sit on your butt and wait for life to deliver what you want. Life only delivers you the encounter (or opporunity) and then it’s up to you to decide whether you want to put in the effort for it or miss out on it.

Now, how does this apply to Zuo Ran? It’s literally present in every interaction he has with his heroine. To him, his heroine is the encounter that life has given him, and if he blows his chance then he will never be able to get this opportunity again, no matter how hard he works.

And so, even when he’s sure about his feelings for her and wants to pursue her, he does it in such a tentative, careful, gentle, and considerate way. He’s not oblivious to his own emotions and, in fact, is quite obvious of them and even shows his possessiveness to other men.

However, he is terrified of pushing too hard and fast with his heroine and scaring her away (in addition to being clumsy with how to woo someone in general). This is also why he keeps using that hilarious Love Psychology book, because he wants to get all the steps right. There can be no room for error because, again, if he blows his chance then it’s gone forever.

Anyway, as I mentioned, you can see this tentativeness everywhere but I love how explicit it is in his card names and why I love these two cards. Let’s see if Themis keeps up with this theme, haha.

In December 2020, he got a card called 一步之遥 which literally translates to One Step Away.

Then, in April 2021, for his birthday he got a card called 两心无间 which I call Two Inseparable Hearts but it’s literally No Distance Between Two Hearts.

Is this not poetic beauty? I’ve seen hilarious comments about how, in keeping to this number theme because the Chinese titles start with numbers, the next one should be 三年抱俩 (two babies within three years) and then 四世同堂 (four generations in one family) HAHA.

Returning to the topic, I wouldn’t say that Zuo Ran is shy, oblivious, or hesitant to show his emotions; he’s really just being extra-cautious, extra-considerate, and taking the utmost care because of the belief that his heroine is someone he fatefully encountered in his life, but if he messes this up then he’ll lose his chance forever.

(Silly man doesn’t realize that, among all the guys, he’s actually the one who constantly gets the red thread of fate theme. The universe drew them together in the past, before they even knew each other, and continues to draw them together in the present, and now the heroine just has to step forward and take his hand.)

#tears of themis #zuo ran #artem wing #tears of meta

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

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While You Sleep

Chapter 12

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: kidnapping, violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

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“They couldn’t take that from me. They could never take you.”

“I never want to bring you pain or worry, okay? That shouldn’t be what… we do.”

Bucky’s words rang in your head as you sat in the lonesome cell, fighting for release any way you thought to try. But naturally, these attempts of wrangling yourself out of this had fallen flat and you weren’t trying anymore, that’s for certain. It only made the restraints dig into your wrists more. Not to mention you were beyond tired hitting a point of exhaustion that you didn't know was possible. You weren’t given a chance to relax as you sat on edge, waiting. Waiting for what - or really who - you didn’t quite know.

Sure, you had an Avenger for a soulmate (at least, that was what you considered Bucky, despite his humbleness) but you weren’t exactly up to date on their enemies. From your understanding, between the looks of the facility and your soulmate’s history, this was seeming like the work of Hydra. But they had been abolished...right? Apparently, you didn’t know anymore and doubts rang in your head as you feared you weren’t some random victim.

The first signs of daylight were just beginning to peek into your cell from a very tiny, thin window located near the top of the wall beside you.

Suddenly, a grumbling voice called from outside the cell. “She’s up.” You whipped your head towards the sound, just barely able to make out a figure illuminated by the early morning glow. There was probably some comment to make to whoever this was about how you hadn’t really slept but you couldn’t find your voice at the moment.

“Excellent.” A deeper, possibly older, voice called from down the hall. The man sounded way too excited for your liking. Your stomach threatened to empty its contents as heavy footsteps began making their way towards your cell.

When the steps stopped, you tried squinting through the minimal light but still couldn’t make out much of either man. If you had to guess, they looked like some doctors of sorts in long lab coats with notebooks in hand. One thing you definitely could tell was that they didn’t hesitate to stare back. You could feel their eyes taking you in over and over again making your heart pound in a weirdly familiar way.

“Does she speak?” The first man asked with a humorless scoff. You twisted in your wrist restraints wishing for some courage to get up and maybe put space between you.

Mustering a scrap of energy, you turned away from the men, hoping maybe your matted hair falling in your face could block them out forever. Because really, couldn’t this be forever? How would anyone know what happened? Your best bet was your coworker noticing your absence but then you thought of Bucky… He was away for now and by the time he caught wind who knows what would be of you. Tears began welling in your eyes at the thought of this being it for you -- whatever this was. You still weren’t sure what about you compelled these men to kidnap you in the middle of the night.

“Hey,” the same voice called out to you this time, pulling you from your troubling thoughts. Slowly, you turned back to him, taking in more of the doctor (fake, you guessed) persona now. “I asked if you speak.”

“No,” you grumbled. You didn’t know where this smart response came from but it made you feel a bit better like you were coming back to yourself. Really, though, you were in no position to start getting smart with anyone.

He let out a joyous laugh that sent far more fear through you. “The Soldier’s soulmate has an attitude, huh?”

Soldier? Bucky. Your heart panged at another thought of him. If that’s who they were referring to, this was to be about Bucky, you realized. These men knew him and whatever connection was festered there, it hadn't fizzled and you were caught in the crossfire. This actually couldn’t be them… But it looked like it.

Suddenly, the cell door opened with a loud screech, and the two men walked into the full glory of the morning sunrise. There, on their white coats, you saw an emblem of what appeared to be some tentacle-bearing creature. Your suspicions were regrettably confirmed.

They walked towards you, their eyes looking over you as if you were an experiment and they were memorizing you. With fear racing through you, you slowly began scooting backward trying to get as far away as you could. Your back eventually hit a wall and they just kept coming.

“Quite the squeamish one for being chained to The Soldier,” the second man observed, writing something down in his notebook. You could see now that he was much older, having that wiser look in his older years. You guessed he was a leader of sorts (at least, that was how you were going to file him in your head) and the other man, the one who was so kind to comment on your attitude, was some kind of assistant. You couldn’t take your eyes off the logo on their coats as it was practically screaming in your face. It all felt impossible and yet here you were, in the belly of the beast.

“W-What am I doing here?” You asked, your voice scratchy and nervous. Honestly, you were just glad you had the guts to make any noise. The assistant looked a bit humored at your question.

“Wow, she speaks full sentences,” he commented with an unsettling smirk.

The “leader” of the pair shot him a look before turning back to speak to you. “We have some observing to do, my dear,” he briefly explained.

The vagueness of it all was certainly not helping you - like anything realistically could in this moment. Still, you pursued it. “Observing?”

He hummed in response, turning back for a moment to write a few more lines in the notebook. Truthfully, you wanted to just kick it out of his fucking hand. Your eyes flicked quickly to the assistant but he wasn’t handing out any hints, just looking at you like you were something to be conquered. Oh, how you wanted to vomit on their shiny dress shoes.

“I will explain our intentions to ease your mind,” he snapped his notebook shut, “but first, you are to be moved.”

And just like, as if his words were keys, a hoard of men entered the cell and hoisted you to your feet. You tried kicking and screaming but they were strong. Maybe too strong. A strength you possibly could only recall in two other men you knew. But you didn’t have time to dwell on it as they corralled you easily and forced you down the hall.

Everything was dark again. There was no light from the windows in the hall, just some musty glows of lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling. You didn’t know where to look so you just stared downward, taking in the metal flooring that made you chilled.

After turning a few corners, you were brought to a much larger cell. This one at least had a chair, but you didn’t think it was exactly a nice grand gesture as your eyes landed on the restraints attached to it. The second thing you noticed was some sort of computer-like machine and rolling tables which lined the side. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought this was just another medical office.

You yelped as one of the large men threw you on the chair, not giving you a second to even adjust before your hands were unbound only to be rebound by the chair’s restraints. You tugged a bit at them out of reflex, finding them as sturdy as expected. Your legs were free, though, maybe offering some tactic but exhaustion and fear overtook you.

Once they deemed you settled in, the army of men left, walking in line as commandingly as they had entered. The leader and his assistant stayed, waiting for you three to finally be alone once more. The door shut with a disturbing bang, really sealing your fate. The assistant stayed off to the side, leaning against a wall adjacent to the chair. The leader walked over to you, taking a seat on some rolling stool. Wow, these guys really thought they were serious professionals or something.

“I hope the trip here was okay,” the leader said with a chuckle. “Comfortable?” He motioned towards your lounging state. You blinked. “I see we are losing that attitude. What a shame, really. I’m sure your soulmate loves a firecracker.” Your body visibly tensed at the mention of Bucky. The elderly man didn’t miss it. In fact, it seemed like you unintentionally gave him the perfect segue into his whole evil spiel.

“Ah, yes, your soulmate.” The leader nodded as if he had just forgotten all about it. “Well, you see, the fact he even has one was news to us,” he shrugged and glanced at his assistant who nodded in confirmation. “We were sure when we wiped him we were wiping everything, so imagine our surprise when we find out he’s out and about dancing - with you on his arm.”

Your throat tightened as the memories of you and Bucky at the dance hall flooded your mind. It had been so busy that night you never would’ve thought you’d have to worry about someone… It sounded so ludicrous to you. You almost wish he hadn’t said it as the thoughts of that night were suddenly a bit darker. The carelessness you two had held seemed foolish now.

The leader watched you carefully. When you didn’t say anything in response, just blinked away more tears, he continued, “At first, we were quite angry we had missed something so big. We could’ve sworn we broke every attachment time after time but, as I said, you just swept The Soldier right off his feet. So, naturally, our sights were set on eliminating you.” He let out a ridiculous hearty laugh. “But then my assistant here,” the man in the corner waved in response, “realized that that would be a waste. There could be potential here for you. For you and your soulmate. Potential rooted in a team. Two unbreakable soldiers, both in bond and skills. What more could Hydra want?”

You gasped, your eyes growing wide, at the explanation. You didn’t know what to do now, your body had a mind of its own as it began shaking your head furiously as your wrists tugged and tugged at the restraints. This wasn’t realistic. They were absolutely mad. What kind of foolishness was this? They couldn’t possibly -

“Now, now,” the leader chuckled and turned to his notebook. He began checking referencing stuff from the monitor to the paper. “Don’t get too excited. We’re still brainstorming the whole concept and while it’s not near execution, it is on the promising side. There is, though, a vital component we seem to be lacking: your soulmate.”

Bucky… Your heart felt like it was going to rip itself out of your chest. Was he walking into a trap? Assuming he was walking in at all? Who was to say he had any idea of what was going on with you? How long could this all be for… You let out a surprising sob.

The leader responded to your outburst with an annoyed scoff. “There’s no reason to cry, dear. He’s sure to be here soon thanks to that little bond you have. If he hasn’t already recognized your distress by now, well, he’s not as smart as we thought.” He shrugged and began typing away on the monitor’s keyboard. “The whole attachment may all work out in our favor after all. Eventually, you two will be reunited, and won’t that be just lovely?”

Truthfully, you didn’t know anymore. You had no doubt in Bucky’s fighting abilities but these guys were… Well, they were pretty much responsible for him and everything you had seen him be put through. Who knows what they could do if (and when) he walked through those doors. You were lucky you hadn’t passed out yet from this anxiety alone.

“Besides, as I said, it’s all later down the line anyway,” the leader said. It had suddenly occurred to you at that moment that you were very glad he hadn’t given out his name. You couldn’t imagine humanizing these monsters. “For now, though, we are interested in learning more about you. I’ll be honest, on paper you are quite boring. Barely finished high school, left college for a coffee shop job… The pairing is almost comical. We just can’t figure out what you offer him and while, really, who are we to question Fate? But I still think in time we can figure out...well, whatever it is about you.”

You shook your head slowly, your eyes barely even able to focus on him anymore. Everything in you felt so heavy. “I’m not special.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” the leader chuckled. “He makes you special.”

As if on cue, a chorus of screams erupted from the hallway. You all jumped and turned towards the door. There was a little window on it but all you three could see were the bodies of the army of men from earlier flying about.

“Sooner than we expected,” the leader mumbled and began furiously typing something into the computer.

You didn’t know what to do besides sit there and wait for whatever was coming. Deep in you, you knew it was Bucky, you could feel it. You could feel him. But there was also a part of you that could also sense… rage. A very familiar, unsettling rage burned within him. It made you wonder if you actually wanted to see him in such a state. Some sick piece of you wished they had just knocked you out.

There wasn’t much more time to consider what you were going to do as the door to the cell was ripped off. Literally, fully, ripped away at the hinges to reveal a very determined, very angry, Bucky. He had an expression you didn’t recall seeing before, even in the nightmares. He looked ready to murder everything in its path but there was no calculated strategy to the madness. It seemed to be just him and his pure desire to eliminate anything and everything. His eyes were locked deadly on the older man, seemingly opting to ignore you. The assistant had begun shifting further away into the corner of the space.

“So nice of you to join us,” the leader said with an unsettling laugh. “I’ll admit, we weren’t expecting you so soon. I barely got a chance to get to know your little darling here.” He motioned towards you.

“I’m only going to ask this once,” Bucky finally spoke, his voice strained, “let her go.”

The leader smiled, “I’m not sure you’ll be asking for anything in a moment, anyways.” He motioned towards the computer. You and Bucky followed his motion with matching bewildered expressions. “In fact, I think you’ll be the one doing what I ask.”

Bucky’s eyes widened. “No-,”

But it was already set in motion. With a simple press of a button, the room filled with an electronic voice repeating a series of words in a foreign language. You looked around, unsure of where this could even be coming from and what the hell was being said, Your eyes eventually settled on Bucky who looked completely… lost. You gripped the sides of the chair, begging for this to just be over, as you watched that was so familiar. You could feel the memories rising from the depths of your brain. Hidden away, nearly suppressed... You gasped. The nightmares. That’s what all this was. They had pulled the trigger.

As much as you loved and trusted Bucky, you couldn’t say the same for the other guy. If in that state, could he even recognize you? Like, fully understand your role? You didn’t want to find out, truly. The panic that was settling in now was unlike anything you had experienced that day. Not even the idea of Hydra goons kidnapping you had sparked this much within.

You were preparing yourself for the worst as you watched Bucky try to shake it off. The leader wore a proud expression while the assistant kept his lonely distance, watching everything unfold. Suddenly, Bucky began mumbling to himself as his hands made hard fists. You thought the blow was finally coming and he was going to be gone. Just like that.

But then Bucky lunged. In one swift move, he pounced on the leader, taking everyone in the room off-guard, especially the target of the aggression. The older man hadn’t even had a chance to put his arms up before your soulmate was punching him relentlessly. Bucky’s yelling in the process was of pure, expressive anger, completely drowning out the screams of pain from the leader. You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to look away so badly but you were also hypnotized. Bucky was so determined and unwavering in whatever goal was planted in his head. A bit thankful someone would go to such lengths for you, you had had enough of such danger in your sleep - you didn’t want it in your reality.

Bucky switched suddenly to strangling the man and that seemed to be the final straw for the leader’s life. The older man was soon just a lifeless, limp body on the floor. Bucky was still knelt above him, watching the soul drain from his victim. Your jaw went slack. You couldn’t turn this off.

The assistant didn’t help it as he made some foolish break for the exit but Bucky was just as fast. In a couple of determined strides, Bucky yanked the younger man back by the neck and threw him into the wall creating an artistic indentation. The assistant fell to the floor with a chilling thud.

There was no one left for his sights to land on except for you. Slowly, Bucky turned around. A shiver ran up your spine when your eyes finally met. You didn’t know who was standing before you. Whatever or whoever this was quickly began stomping their way towards you. You shut your eyes and flinched away, waiting for a painful, finishing blow from the Soldier.

But it never came.

Instead, all Bucky did was lean over to turn off the speakers and then began untying your wrists. Hesitantly, you turned to look at him but found he wouldn’t look at you, just was intensely concentrated on the restraints.

“B-Bucky?” Your voice was scratchy as you fumbled over his name.

“It’s me, doll,” Bucky responded with an exhausted sigh. He sounded normal to you, his demeanor not even looking close to what you remembered from the nightmares. He… He was okay. Bucky still wasn’t looking at you as he finished one restraint then went on the next.

“You’re not…”

Bucky shook his head. “Everything’s okay,” he mumbled. “We’re getting you out of here.”

“We?”

“The team is outside handling the other men.”

“You all came for me?”

Bucky finally looked up at you. For the first time, you could see just how tired he looked. A man nearly on the brink of defeat and enduring the fight. Your heart ached as all you wanted to do was crawl into his arms and take the longest naps of your lives.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bucky nodded. Gently, after the last restraint was undone, he picked you up bridal style. You threw your arms around his neck and buried your face in his shoulder, letting yourself relax and the tears flow.

“Thank you,” you mumbled but Bucky didn’t respond as he carried you out of the facility

***

You must’ve fallen asleep because a few hours later you awoke at some sort of compound. You were lying in what appeared to be a hospital bed but nothing about this place looked like a typical hospital. The technology was too advanced and everything just seemed too quiet. You looked around, letting your eyes adjust to the bright light of the sun shining in from the large room windows. In the corner, you were greeted by the sight of Bucky sleeping awkwardly in a chair.

You twisted in the bed, trying to get more comfortable under the blanket. The super-soldier hearing must’ve kicked in because one ruffle of the blanket made Bucky’s eyes shoot open. He looked at you, panic shifting to relief when he saw you were awake. Quickly, in a few steps, he was out of the chair and at your bedside.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly. His hand went to touch your cheek but he must've thought better of it and instead lowered it. Your heart broke a bit wondering what self-deprecating thoughts were running through his brain after everything he had to do.

“I’m okay. Just a bit sore,” you shrugged but boy was it the hard truth. You hadn't been in a comfortable position in hours and endured being thrown around like some rag doll.

“Do you need any medicine?” Bucky asked, his voice suddenly having an air of panic to it. “I can call for help if you need it. Are you hungry? Do you need water? Or - Or just anything to drink? I can get you-,”

“Bucky…” You placed your hand on his to calm down. He flinched at your touch. “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

He shook his head. “Nothing is fine, sweetheart. You were taken from me-,” Bucky cut himself off as his eyes began welling with tears. He looked wrecked as he stared down at you, taking in your current state. You felt the pain, wanting nothing more than to make all these torturing thoughts vanish. “You… You saw things that I just… I never wanted you to deal with-,”

“It’s over.” You took a deep breath. “I’m here, I’m safe, and you’re with me.”

Bucky closed his eyes as if preparing for something. “After what happened back there, do you even want me around anymore?”

Your jaw went slack at his question. Sure, there was absolutely no denying that the events of today scared you, most likely more than you realized. You had only seen Bucky that determined and violent in your nightmares so to see it just steps away was jarring. But you also knew nothing changed within him. He wasn’t a robot or anything. He wasn’t someone just taking commands. He had remorse. You certainly couldn’t say the same for who greeted you in your sleep. It may take you some time to adjust, sure, but you weren’t turning away. At least, you were going to try not to. Healing was just beginning.

“Of course, I do,” you said, raising your other hand to Bucky’s cheek. At first, he flinched but slowly he leaned into the touch, sighing like he was letting go of something. “Bucky, what happened back there… You had no choice. I don’t have to tell you that those were some very, very bad people. They had it coming and the fact you went to those lengths to save me is unbelievable.”

“I’d go to the ends of the Earth for my girl,” Bucky admitted.

You let out a weak giggle. “Thank you.” A pause. “May I ask how you figured out I was in trouble?”

Bucky smirked. “I had a nightmare.”

You raised your brows in surprise. “A nightmare?”

He nodded, “I started to feel weird after leaving for the mission like there was something I was missing. A little later on, I was taking a nap and you of course appeared but it was unlike any other dream I had ever had about you. It was… You were scared, deathly afraid of something, and then I saw what was going on. I practically watched it all play out from your apartment and on. It didn’t take too long to put everything together.”

You hmm’d. “Thank God for nightmares.”

Bucky chuckled and placed a light kiss on your forehead. “Thank God for nightmares,” he repeated in agreement.

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astersofthesky · 3 years

Text

I decided to reread the MHA LN Chapter 4, you know, the canon bkdk angsty slow-burn fanfic 😌😌 Spreading the BKDK LN agenda because WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS MORE !!

Anyway, I FOUND ANOTHER TRANSLATION but sadly OP haven't finished it yet 😢

And since I need an emotional outlet so I can scream at how they're so canon, Im'ma do it here ahwjdhfjsh 👀✨

Warning: Long post; potential manga spoilers

– I forgot that this chapter literally started with the angst 😭 Deku saying that he can't imagine having lunch with Kacchan is like a pain in the gut. He just wanna be friends with his Kacchan again 😢

– One word, ✨SOULMATES ✨ afshshahah PLS, even the universe can't help but ship them together 😩✋ they're fruityness is on whole a new level I CAN'T 💚🧡

– I see what you're doing Bakugou 👀 You really can't leave your sweet broccoli behind huh?? Also, crybaby Macchan and aggressive Takkun?? 🤔 Do I need to say more? 🧐

– If that's not flirting then idk what is 🤷 also, "In front of my soba? Really?" (Todoroki, probably)

– There's no ss but I just wanna give a special mention to jealous!Bakugou. No cos srsly, implying you're not friends with Deku as if you're not dying to hold his hand then getting irritated over Todoroki claiming the "friend" card 😩 Just, Bakugou, don't @ me ☺️💢

– The angst had reached full force it seems ಥ‿ಥ The line was cut but it actually says "Not friends, just childhood friends" 😭😭 and I am telling you Im'ma throw my brand new book when Bakugou explicitly acknowledges Midoriya as his boyfriend. Because before they were rivals, Bakugou and Midoriya were first friends. And I'm not saying that they aren't one now because we as readers, can definitely see they care for each other. But the question is, do they already see the other as a friend and not just a mere rival? They don't cos they're boyfriends your honor

– Tbh, It still haven't sinked in that this is kind of canon 🤧 This is such a cliched romantic scene like wtf?? So what's next? The full moon is illuminating half of Bakugou's face, red eyes glowing and face soft from the natural white luminescence or something sappy like that?? 😩😩 I love it

– Izuku in this LN chapter whenever he talks about Bkg: ✨ THEIR RELATIONSHIP ✨

– I know, I get it. You don't have to shove it my face every single time Deku 😌 and pls, why are you still flirting at the middle of the night?? Or was it pining that I see 🤔 i mean comparing each other to their kid parallels 😕 hmm a severe case of mutual pining indeed

– Yes yes, of course you're only looking for food stalls Mr. Bakugou "Tsundere" Katsuki, I completely don't believe that you're worried about the kids. No! of course not! Who says you want the kids to reconcile so they wouldn't experience the pain that you and a certain green had gone through?? Hahaha I mean It's not like they're your parallel what??hmmm no no, go on, look for takoyaki or smthn ☺️☺️

– Wait, did the last part say '"Bakugou grabbed Izuku's face and pushed it away..." Aksfksjdhdisjs what in the actual gay fanfic is this??!! Or wait, is this what Bkg usually do to Deku in the official art he's like, I love agressively gripping your head as I entangle my fingers on your soft curls but no homo💀

Since OP's translation isn't complete, I'm going to use Lau Ren's translation and yes I'm continuing this shit even though Tumblr mobile only lets me post 10 pics per post

– Bkdk domesticity with children pt. 95736 💚🧡 They love kids so much 😩 Yk I'd donate my kidney just to see this ANIMATED ✨ like this has so much fluff potential 🤧 Or at the very least a drama CD. I'd ascend 😭

– WHAT THE FUDGE ?!! I'M SCREAMING 😭 I SAY IT AGAIN 💞 SOULMATES✨ and pls, it has my favorite fic trope, Bakugou Katsuki is Bad at Feelings. Anyway, I need a minute to collect myself cos I can't move past the "With the said person himself nearby, Kacchan thought his fate had gone crazy" ( ≧Д≦) dammit Katsuki, why r u so gay. Izuku loves you, you emotionally constipated gremlin

I have reached my 10 picture limit so I'm just gonna copy paste some of the twts 💀 I hope I don't get in trouble lmao Xd

- Kacchan fixed his gaze to Deku who looked relieved. "He..."

- Somehow, Kacchan remembered the fight they had after All Might's retirement. It was the first time they were able to let out their conflicts sincerely. Although his fear towards Deku had decreased since then, there was still a feeling of disgust about Deku being a hero who save others residing in Kacchan.

- He couldn't understand it. But he knew, there will always a being whom he cannot understand

– Bkg rlly said 👀 on Deku while having angsty thoughts ಥ╭╮ಥ Looking back on this tho, I just can't help but be proud when I remember 285. Bakugou is loud but he is very rational in battles. He thinks of a plan on the spot meaning he's mind is on work 24/7.

– When he had his "My body just moved on its own" moment, Katsuki had understood Deku and his nature to "Save to Win." It'ss that Katsuki must not analyze it with his brain, but instead feel it with his heart 💚🧡 And this is the reason why I badly want to see him on the manga 😭 that was some MAJOR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT I'm ahwjdhfjsh

– Takkun and Maachan's pinky swear deserves their own mention. They're so pure 😩✋

- He said he still hasn't done hatsumoude so Kacchan can go first, but Kacchan refused and wouldn't let Deku do hatsumoude before him.

- Kacchan tried to take a head start, but in the end, they ended up visiting and praying together.

– AND WE'RE BACK with the gays 😌 hsjdjajs they compete with every single thing it's honestly cute. Also YES THEY PRAYED TOGETHER and shoujo scenes with the main couple praying on the shrine but make it BKDK flashed before my eyes 😖✨

- After finishing their prayers, Deku looked at Kacchan, "What did you wish for?" "Shut up."

- Even with Kacchan's sulking expression seen from the side, Deku felt that they had wished for the same thing.

– DEKU YOU'RE BEING TOO LOUD!! I just can't with these two 😩✋ Both of them are down so bad for each other and you can't tell me otherwise 💚✨🧡

- With those serious eyes, Deku knew they were aiming for the same thing. Win to save, save to win. To be the best heroes.

- Deku knew well that he and Kacchan are polar opposites. But even so, Deku couldn't imagine a world in which Kacchan doesn't exist.

– Deku just went 😍 on Kacchan and thought "I CAN'T IMAGINE LIFE WITHOUT YOU 🧡💚" (insert Imagine by Ben Platt)

– I can't even stress how much I love this line, y'all this is so misleading I-- this is too much 😭 Anyway, I believe this go both ways. Bakugou can't also see a world without Deku in it, and since Deku decided to be the self-sacrificing person he is, I'll just SCREAM IN CH. 304 ( ≧Д≦)

- Seeing the two praying side by side, he commented, "so you've become good friends now, huh."

- Both of them immediately opposed, and Kacchan threatened to explode Shoto's mouth for saying such a disgusting thing.

– Let's go Todoroki, best wingman 🤣 And flustered Bakugou makes a reappearance hdjsja Dammit half n' half I ain't flirting with Deku fvck you

And this is where it ends afshshaha anyway bkdk canon 💚🧡

#bakudeku #dekubaku #bkdk #dkbk #mha light novel #bnha light novel #decchan #bakudeku canon #no edit #typo be damned #austere posts

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gc-genshin · 3 years

Text

Lassitude

Lassitude (noun): a state of physical or mental weariness; lack of energy.

Pairing: Diluc X female reader

Warnings: One swear word

A/N: This is part of a future chapter for my ongoing series Monachopsis but can also be read as a stand alone! Happy reading!

Sitting cross legged on the chair next to the fireplace at the Dawn Winery mansion, you enjoyed the warmth it radiated and hoped that eventually the crackling sound of the flames would lull you to sleep.

You blankly stared at the flames with half lidded eyes as your head sat atop of your fist that was propped on the armrest of the chair. However, your eyes widened slightly when you felt the familiar warm presence that all Pryo vision holders radiated before you heard the creaking of stairs as it made its way down. But his was fainter than usual.

You straightened up in your chair and turned to look at the owner of the winery. As you watched him, you instantly became worried as you took in his appearance. His form was sluggish with his shoulders slouched and his hair was disheveled, loose from his normal ponytail. You knew something was wrong.

“Diluc?” You softly call out, as to not startle him, when he made it to the bottom of the stairs.

You saw Diluc tense slightly when hearing his name. He turned to look at you and you immediately took notice of the dark circles that he adorned and the exhaustion that laid in his vermillion eyes. “Is everything alright?”

Diluc examined your form. They way that it was illuminated by the soft orange glow of the fireplace, giving you the perfect amount of shadow and highlight, the way your face was contorted with concern for his well-being and the way your (e/c) eyes shone with not just worry but also with adoration and warmth.

Adoration that he did not deserve.

He slowly walked to you. He took note of the way you quickly became more alert. As he moved closer, he took in your facial features. How your hair frames your face to how your (s/c) skin was scarred and blemished yet looked perfect in his eyes. The curve of your nose, your cheekbones, your bright eyes, the dip of the Cupid's bow on your lips, to your toned yet slender body from the many battles that you had fought. It was all perfect to him.

You were perfect to him.

“(Y/n)…” He said as he finally made it to your seated figure. You tilt your head and give him a small, encouraging smile as you patiently wait for him to say what he wants to say.

The fact that you knew him so well, the fact that you knew something was bothering him. It never ceases to amaze him. From the first time you both met, to the accident, and now to the present. You were always able to read him like an open book and was always so patient with him. Never once looking at him with hatred nor resentment, but with understanding and compassion.

He did not deserve your kindness.

You stared up at Diluc. A few moments of silence passed before Diluc averted his gaze from you. This made you even more concerned, but you calmed down as soon as you saw him slightly open his arms out to the side. A universally understood gesture that asked for a hug.

But he wanted to be selfish. Like how you told him that it was okay to be.

You didn't hesitate to stand up from your chair and wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, having to step on your tiptoes in order to do so. Diluc immediately snaked his arms around your waist and squeezed as if you were his life line. He buried his face deep into the crook of your neck and shakily inhaled.

Your heart clenched at the sound. This young man that has been through so much, that carries such a heavy burden on his shoulders. A burden that he was willing to carry. You began to card your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp every once in a while in hopes that it would soothe him some.

“Oh Diluc…” you began, “you break my heart.” You tell him softly. You begin to slowly rock side to side as if you were calming down a young child.

Your statement made Diluc tighten his hold on you. “I'm sorry.” He whispered, which made you tighten your hold on him in return.

“I prayed every night, to whoever was listening, to look after you,” You began to tear up. “to keep you safe.” Your voice cracked. “Seeing you bear so many burdens and responsibilities… you really do break my heart sometimes.”

Diluc was a silent crier. He never made any noise when he did cry. So when tears began to fall from his eyes, all he could manage was a quivering exhale. You prayed for him. You worried about him so much that you would ask the gods to watch over him. You cared for him so much and he was just now realizing it.

Archons he was so fucking stupid.

You began to feel your neck become wet. Your eyes widen at the sensation and you felt a few tears fall from your own eyes. Not once have you ever seen Diluc cry. But you didn't pull away from the hug. You knew Diluc hated showing any kind of weakness to anyone and you knew that you were no exception, so you patiently waited for him to calm down while continuing to sway back and forth.

After he had finally settled down, you slowly pulled back from him. As Diluc kept his head down to avoid eye contact with you when you looked at him, you brought both hands to gently cradle his face. Feeling your warm hands against his cheeks made him look up at you. His eyes widened when he saw your own glazed over with tears but before he could do anything about them, you ran your thumbs underneath his eyes to catch the stray tears that had fallen. You held him with such tenderness and looked up at him with eyes full of reassurance telling him that it was okay to cry, that it was okay to let everything out every once in a while.

You both just look at each other in silence, with your smile never once leaving your face. You slowly brought your forehead to rest on his own as you both basked in each other's warmth.

And with one last exhale… Diluc returned your smile, finally feeling at peace in your presence.

This was my first attempt at writing anything remotely sad so it’s pretty ehhhh, but hopefully when I actually get to this chapter I’ll have more experience and tweak it a little bit.

Anyways, thanks for reading! Comments and constructive criticism are always welcomed!

#monachopsis #diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin diluc #Female reader #an attempt was made

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