#i always wish i could ask them how they didn't drown the fear and despair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cryptiql · 3 years

Text

riptide

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, some mildly suggestive flashbacks + detailed descriptions of drowning. as always, please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 4.9k

a/n: welcome to the sequel of smoke signals. perish :)

dabi made a mistake. the knowledge sits in the bottom of his stomach like a lump of lead; his innards twisting into a knot whenever the memory of you crosses the expanse of his sleep deprived mind. the burns under his eyes might as well be bags, but they aren't large enough to bear the weight of his guilt. it isn't much better sitting on his shoulders, but the repercussions of pain are what keep him from letting it go, and that's exactly what he wants. no—it's what he deserves. he deserves the feeling like his head is going to burst; the ache in his spine from too many hours spent hunched over himself with a bottle clutched between his shaking hands; the burning intensity from overuse of his quirk. the extra inches of marred skin serve as reminders of what he did, but it's not half as satisfying when the pain doesn't last.

he wants to scratch at the wounds until they ooze that bitter garnet liquid; until he's suffocated by the metallic scent and forced to endure as the taste of blood engraves itself on his tongue when he chokes on it. he wants to suffer—the slower the better—because not even the strongest alcohol can cleanse his sins, nor the stench of his regret.

dabi made a mistake. it won't be the last time, he's able to admit, because his ego is too shriveled from the lack of your warmth, and his heart yearns for the passion of your kiss that still lingers on his lips. when the loft echoes with fragments of the city's ambience, drowning him in an incessant racket, he longs for the lighthouse. this place is infested with selfish ingrates, scuttling about in search of the next outcast to torment, and it makes him wish he still had that safe space at the shore. your siren song was a drug to put him at ease, and now he is without it, and the withdrawal has taken effect.

he knew this would come to pass. dabi overdosed on your love; your affection; your everything; all while watching the consequences unravel at a snail's pace, almost as if he were being teased by the inevitable end. he let it happen. he did this to himself, so he won't shake his hands at the sky, cursing gods he doesn't know exist; as if they would concern themselves with the faults of men like him.

he knew this would happen.

but then, so did you. you had to have known by the empty space in your bed where he used to lay; by the dates that kept getting postponed and the meaningless promises made to make up for them; by the shortage of visits, even just to say "hello" before he dropped from the face of the earth once more. if this were true, it meant that you were suffering just the same—nay, more than him, by forcing yourself into a state of compliance whenever he told you it was time for him to go. dabi could pretend like he didn't see your fingers twitching; resisting the urge to reach out for him; just as he could pretend like the rivulets of tears on your cheeks did not exist, though they begged to be swept away by him. god, he wants to hold your face again, noses brushing together and your dreamy sighs melding with his raspy laughter.

he had told himself that you wouldn't deter him from his goal, but even that seems like a pipe dream now. he feels like an underachiever, chasing a future that can't be set in stone when he already had you, which should have been enough. dabi realizes that the flames of his own passionate desire for freedom have burned you in the process, and it hurts more than he can put into words. you were always better with words, he reminisces, tracing the coffee stained parchment sitting in his pocket.

dabi has long since stopped reading the letters you sent, but he still carries them with him wherever he goes. they anchor him to both earth and sky; the reality that he's lost you, threatening to swallow him from under his feet; and the hope that he'll find you again, one day, after all this is over. "and just what do you think you're doing?"

you can see his reflection in the stove's glass sheen, his mouth drawn up into a devious smirk as he leans on the bedroom doorframe, clad in nothing but his briefs from the previous night. the purplish burns scaling his collarbone and abdomen give him a roguish look that—if you possessed no self-restraint—would normally have you lunging at him like a starved beast. you manage to smirk back at him, subtly shaking your hips while opening the stove door to pull out the doughy mound of bread inside. to your delight, you hear him grumble something not-so family-friendly before he snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. you had never once thought that the feeling of staples against your skin would feel so good, but now you can hardly imagine being without it, and you immediately melt into dabi's touch.

he breathes softly in your ear, chuckling when you flinch in response, goosebumps stippling your flesh. by the way your cheeks puff out in embarrassment, he should take that as a sign to stop, but fuck, your pouting is just too cute for him to resist, especially when your worship-able body is basking in the afterglow of dusk. you keen when dabi starts peppering your shoulder blades with kisses, but nearly dropping the pan causes your senses to return, and you whisper a plea. luckily, he appears to be in a merciful mood, because he relents his onslaught of affection to rest his chin in the crook of your neck.

when he finally notices what you're making, he can't help but squeeze you tighter.

"is that a cake?"

you turn to give him a peck on the nose, which is rewarded with a halfhearted snap of his teeth just millimeters from your mouth.

"that'd be right. though, i'm astonished you know which way is up after last night." your sing-song tone of voice spurs him to squeeze your thigh, and you would have shooed him away if not for how much you liked it. dabi murmurs something unintelligible, the vibrations shooting straight down your spine, and proceeds to remove himself from you in order to better observe the baked delicacy.

"mm. what's it for?" he asks, discretely swiping a bit of the pink colored icing from the bowl to his right. sweet, but not sickeningly so.

you are none the wiser when dipping a spatula into the contents and smoothing it over the cake, a soft smile playing at your lips.

"you never told me when your birthday is, so i'm taking a wild guess. figured i'd whip this up as a surprise, but you woke up earlier than i suspected." dabi swears that his heart is about to burst from behind his ribcage, and all because you're too goddamn perfect. you may as well be a priceless work of art in museum that he's been prohibited from touching. however, the fading marks on your skin signify that he's done more than just touch, and he takes pride in the fact you can't seem to move further than two steps in any direction without faltering.

"i know angel food cake is your favorite—" dabi silences you with a kiss; bruising and passionate; and takes the spatula from your hand, blindly setting it aside on the counter. your protests are short-winded as he lifts you from your behind before promptly turning the oven off and spinning on his heel. he's memorized these halls well enough to not bump into anything during his trek back to the bedroom. you pull away, albeit with a hint of reluctance, just to glare at him.

"what about the—" dabi kisses you again, and while you don't seem too happy about being interrupted twice in a row, the shared heat between your bodies distracts you from being upset.

"you're off by about two months, doll. besides, i think i'd much rather have you as a late birthday treat."

dabi clenches his jaw at the memory, his knuckles whitening with how tenaciously he grips the tattered fabric of his jeans. the league's new base is just as rundown and close to crumbling as he feels, but his despair is masked by the rage that overpowers it. why couldn't you have been a normal couple? why couldn't dabi have grown up with a father who loved him; with a quirk that didn't gradually destroy him and without the resulting scars that made him a hideous monster in the eyes of all who saw him? why couldn't he be as beautiful on the inside as you said he was on the outside? why couldn't he just be happy, after all this time?

why? why? why?

dabi finds his answer hidden in the ashen battleground strewn with rubble and remnants of burnt remains. he finds it in the fear of his victims' expressions before the snare of death claims them in a flourish of blue inferno. it's written there in bold, ichor dripping from his fingers as they smear the message with red.

the privilege of living a normal life is, and always will be, beyond his reach. murder does not warrant mercy, and the only person willing to give it to him is miles away, still desperate for him to come back.

as fate would have it, you and dabi lived worlds apart, but you still look at the same sunset; the same array of stars forming constellations that told stories of your life shared together. they replay in his head like a record stuck on repeat, and only when the song ends does he find himself back in the clutches of his childhood trauma, rather than your embrace.

"dabi? dabi!" his trademark scowl automatically takes place when a finger prods and pulls at his cheek, the familiar voice of twice shaking him from his deep contemplation. jin has been so unfortunate as to suffer minor scorches from the ravenette's flames, on account of him being too bothersome at the wrong moments, and so he instantly backs away at the first indication of danger brewing in the air around him. with how on edge he's felt lately, he really should have gone on a walk to relieve some stress, but the looming knowledge that he can't go to the lighthouse would only ruin the trip.

dabi is fully prepared to smack jin's hand away until he sees what he's holding. he'd recognize that handwriting anywhere, and even without it, the scent of saltwater and freshly baked bread clings to the paper, altering him of yet another one of your efforts to communicate with him. dabi feigns indifference towards the object; quite the contrary to his thinning patience as twice waves it above his head excitedly.

"you've got mail! who's is from? probably a useless nobody! or maybe a secret admirer? but who would admire you?"

to his dismay, the commotion has grabbed toga's attention, and she veers over to their location with a giddy grin on her face. she all but drapes herself over dabi as he snatches the letter from jin, and it doesn't help his struggle when she clings to him like a koala. after a bout of kicking and shoving, he manages to break free of her grasp, grimacing at her lengthy, high-pitched whines of disapproval.

"and can you believe hawks was the one to deliver it? i didn't take him for a carrier bird. . ."

dabi doesn't hear the rest, nor does he intent to, because he's already making his way to the nearest exit with haggard breaths. whoever calls out for him and whatever they say are the last of his concerns right now, and they're abruptly cut off when he slams the door behind him. the summer heat wills beads of sweat to paint his forehead, but he soon finds comfort under the shade of a tree, cicadas buzzing noisily overhead. he would sooner keel over and die than thank the birdbrain hero for catering to him—and by extension, you—but now that the note is there, begging to be read, he can't help but feel some sort of gratitude.

"i need you to do something for me."

the bristles of hawks' feather hover over dabi's pulse in a threatening manner, but he feels no more in peril than he would at the cruelty of a baby chick. he knows the number two hero won't harm him, at least not without regretting it later, and this is the perfect time to use that to his advantage. hawks narrows his eyes at him, nose wrinkling in accord.

"why would i do anything for you after that stunt you pulled?" he snarls, and dabi almost has to laugh at the drastic switch in personality. the way he presents himself to the public is a true contrast compared to the persona only he and the league have had the pleasure of seeing.

"because if you don't, everyone will know you've been fraternizing with the enemy, and we wouldn't want number two falling off his high pedestal, now would we?"

this time, dabi audibly laughs when hawks' guise wavers. the other grits his teeth, slowly withdrawing the feather and allowing it to fall limp at his side. he revels in his victory, short though it be, and reaches into his pocket to procure a letter marked with your name and address. putting your location at the disposal of a hero isn't something he's proud of doing, but it's all he has left, and he doesn't have the resolve to tell you directly.

coward, his conscious mocks as he holds it out for hawks to take. the winged man stares at it with befuddlement, his movements stalling here and there when he seizes the paper between his thumb and pointer finger. dabi tuts lightly but menacingly, yanking hawks towards him by the wrist and igniting his quirk to leave a faint mark there.

"you're gonna deliver this for me, no questions asked. don't you dare open it."

despite the clear uncertainty, hawks took heed of the ominous demand and carried it out later that night. he had not expected a young man with tear-stained cheeks to greet him at the door, much less the endless babble of 'thank you's as you took the letter with shaking hands.

dabi hadn't wished for you to send one back, but the ongoing stream of them was considered fair, after he'd left without much of a trace. still, he had promised himself that he would never read them, for fear of it opening the wound inflicted by having to say goodbye.

dabi can't understand the sudden change of mind for the life of him, and yet, he finds that he doesn't care whether it opposes every rule he set to keep you safe—to keep himself safe. he tears open the envelope and slumps against the tree trunk, bark and leather grating together as he hesitantly unfolds the parchment, briefly shutting his eyes as a last act of resistance to the helpless cry from within; longing for the familiarity of your poetic words. instead of the delicate precision that was to be anticipated, dabi stared down at your messy scrawl, a carnal fear rising from within and causing his throat to clamp up. the memories begin to flash at a faster rate, like an old-timey picture film. dabi has just finished putting the kettle on to boil when hears the floorboards creak, followed by the sound of your slippers shuffling across the floor. he snickers, remembering that the only pair you have is the one he bought you; a well worn match that looks oddly like cloud bunnies. you've made sure to exemplify how much you love the gift by wearing them around the house on rainy or lazy days, all paired with a wistful smile. this morning is no different as you worm your way under dabi's hold and press your face into his chest, a satisfied groan escaping you when he cards his fingers through your hair and scratches the scalp.

the robe you wear is half-hanging from your shoulders, which makes for an enticing view from where dabi stands, but he simply kisses the crown of your head and continues waiting for the pot to simmer.

"did you hear that noise?" you slur, just barely discernable over the kettle's shrieking. dabi quirks a brow in question as you rub the leftover grogginess from your eyes, tiredly nodding at the back window.

"little past midnight, i think. coulda sworn i heard somethin' rifling around in the trash." dabi squints at this new information while eyeing your appearance. the dark circles and intermittent yawning indicate a lack of sleep, and if he weren't there to keep you steady, you might collapse onto the floor as a snoring heap. if it really disturbed him, he should have woken me up, he thinks, pulling you closer with an ever-deepening frown. you snuggle up to him as if it's second nature, sleepily giggling away when his digits stray too close to your side.

"s'probably raccoons, but if you're worried, i can stay longer just to make sure." you look up at him with nothing short of pure, unbridled adoration, cupping his face and squishing it gently, to your own entertainment. after a moment of consideration, you shake your head.

"nah, you're probably right."

the feeling hits dabi like a tidal wave, dragging him below the raging surface; far below where the light of day cannot touch. it suffocates him and brings rise to the sickening taste of bile on his tongue, but he doesn't have time to spare in throwing it all up, so he swallows it. withered patches of grass crunch under his feet as he peels himself from the tree and breaks into a dash, sparing your letter the flames fueled by his anguish as to let it drift in the breeze, the single sentence written on it already engraved in his mind.

it wasn't raccoons.

dabi doesn't care what shigaraki will have to say about this when he gets back. the only thing he cares about is that you'll still be alive to say anything to him when he reaches you, and that whoever has invaded your home is willing to die for what they've done, or what they're currently doing, and fuck—he isn't even sure if this is you calling for help or not, but he can't risk being right.

the distance between the base and the lighthouse feels lightyears apart, yet simultaneously at arms length when dabi is running at speeds he hasn't ever been able to achieve before. if he stumbles at any point during his sprint, or if he happens to bump into an unsuspecting civilian on the street, he doesn't notice. the resonant thumping of his own heartbeat is all that he can hear as he thanks the gods for the flow of traffic being so spaced out, otherwise it would be near impossible for him to reach you in time.

in time for what? he has to ask. dabi doesn't even want to think about the repercussions, but the scenarios arrive in rivulets despite the mental trapeze he goes through to push them down, and they only continue to grow into oceans; darker, colder and harboring thoughts too gruesome for even someone of his caliber to handle. he won't realize until much later that he'd forgotten to put on his disguise, but the way people ogle at him with fear and disgust does not suppress the need to protect you.

even now, he can sense the pressure building behind his eyes, though it's more painful that it used to be. dabi hasn't cried in months, and it shows by how unabating the rivers of blood trickle from his skin grafts, despite his feverish attempts to stop them. look at yourself, holding together by a thread and weeping in public like a child whose lost his mother in the crowd. it wouldn't have come to this if he had stayed.

something shifts in the scenery; a distinct line drawn between the city and its neighboring countryside; but it makes no difference to the impending peril that looms ahead. the closer he gets, the sooner he'll find you waiting for him, dead or alive. dabi staggers, his breath hitching at the thought, as well as the harsh sting of pain that erupts when his knee collides with the gravel below. he pushes himself forward in little time, a strangled yell ripping his throat raw as his vision settles on the top of the lighthouse, peeking over the hillside. you have to be there—you just have to. he isn't done with you yet, and you're sure as hell not done with him.

the earth is damp beneath his feet, and it soaks through the canvas of his shoes whilst he darts past the boulevard and onto your property, crying out to you. surely, you must hear him. surely—

dabi practically hurls himself at the front door, his blood running cold when it opens for him effortlessly and swings ajar to reveal the living room, upturned and scattered with broken bits and pieces of furniture. there's no sign of you or whoever did this. the oakwood flooring groans under his weight as he barrels down the hall, peering into every room, beneath your bed and any other place where you could be hiding. nothing. his search ends in vain at the front doorstep, where he stands hunched over and dry heaving. no, no, no. you can't be gone.

"y/n!" he shouts. his only response is the crashing of waves against the shore and the incessant cawing of seagulls. for a moment, dabi forgets how to breathe, and then the ability returns to him; his legs aching horribly as he rushes to the beach. the arrangement of rocks is sporadic at first, but they gradually form large clumps the further he carries on, urging him to squeeze between the narrower openings. it comes with some difficulty, but at last he is able to hobble onto the sandy coast and rest his sights upon the vast sea. he can recall when seeing its murky blue sea would have put him at ease, but now it only causes his senses to be clouded with distress.

"y/n!" the once calm ripples rise into rolling billows that drench the shoreline in frothy heaps of algae, wreckage and blood. it curls and disbands within the ocean to pollute its cerulean hues with ones of scarlet red, and just like that, dabi's heart sinks like the titanic. he'll never forget the sight of you, face-down in the water; your favorite shirt slashed to shreds, clinging to your body as nothing more than a tattered mess. dabi wades into the water until it reaches his ankles, completely numb to its freezing temperature as he sinks down to hoist you up. he rests you on his thighs and presses his lips onto yours with urgency, shortly pulling back so that he can thrust his palms upon your chest and push. he doesn't care to remember how many times he repeats this, but when he finally sits back on his haunches to release a stifled curse, the feeling of dread has only just begun to take control.

you've never looked so pale.

a guttural sob wrenches itself past his grinding teeth as more tears arise, dappling your cheeks like raindrops. it wracks his body and sends forth a surge of agony to course through his veins. dabi cups your face with a shaking hand, the other secured around your waist while he kisses you, his erratic pleas falling upon deaf ears.

"come back. . .come back." his bawling ceases to end, no matter the abrasive pain blossoming in his gullet.

"c'mon, doll. where's that sweet voice of yours?" his thumb strokes your bottom lip as though beckoning you to speak. when nothing follows, he makes a pathetic sniveling sound mixed with something broken; a blubber or whine, he does not know. the burden of your lifeless form causes the reality to set in; a dagger piercing his insides and twisting as to drag the most blood-curdling screams from him.

dabi loved you, and he wishes he had the strength to say it when you were still there. it was only within the presence of his own demons that he was able to utter his affections; curled into himself and waiting for a reply that would never come, carried on the wind that bit his skin. he loved you because you held him like a child when his father hadn't even the heart to acknowledge him as his own. you spoke his name—his real name—as though the blood on his hands was not there; like you had washed it away yourself through acts of tenderness that he did not deserve.

and now you're gone.

you're gone, and—

dabi's entire body jolts with a start, a familiar heat dancing across the grafts of his marred skin. a faint blue glow radiates from his fists, which are tightly fastened the weighted blanket that lays crumpled atop his legs. he lets go with a shuttering gasp, observing the black smudges that reside where his flames once were, then blinking owlishly at his surroundings. the room is shrouded in darkness, all save for the bedside table to the left of him that is dimly lit by a flickering oil lamp. that, and the spaces illuminated by the moon's brilliance, showering the floor with multicolored spots as it glistens through the stained glass window. something slots into place, but all it does is send dabi's mind into overdrive.

where is he? where are you? are you really dead? everything hurts.

his nails drag down the length of his arms, seeking some sort of comfort in the pain that blooms there. it doesn't last long, however, when the bed suddenly dips, and a soothing warmth is placed on the small of his back.

"touya?" you croak, your words lingering with the remnants of sleep. dabi—no—touya, swears that he could cry again, right then and there. his eyes flit over your torso, where several scars in varying sizes have desecrated the skin. as he idly traces the pink lines, one final memory surfaces from the depths of his subconscious. him, desperately pounding your sternum; the last threads of denial snapping in tune; and you, coughing and spewing both curses and whatever seawater that had clogged up your lungs. touya held you in that same position for hours, listening as your ragged wheezing turned into hiccupping sobs. hauling you inside had been no easy feat, and having to hear your muffled groans while he stitched you up by the crackling hearth was no better, but the evening after had been pleasant.

you could not recollect the face of the intruder, and with such little information to go off of, touya was left to wallow in self-loathing for love he had almost lost. no amount of therapy could prevent the following nightmares and panic attacks, but in time, the rekindling of your relationship was proved successful, and dabi was prepared to repay you for the moments where you consoled him.

it wasn't just a dream. it had all happened, and yet here you were, alive and well.

a pensive look crosses your features when you note how quiet touya is, and you take it as a sign to break the tension with a tried-and-true method from the past. he doesn't resist as you coo softly, pulling him under the covers and wrapping yourself around him, a garbled tune fleeing from past your lips before you press them to his shoulder. you trail the faintest of butterfly kisses along his neck, his jaw, his cheeks and so on. the anxiety coiled in touya's chest starts to untangle, leaving him as a trembling bundle of nerves in your arms as you shush him, your nimble fingers carting through his hair.

if he weren't so tired, he would have laughed at how the tables have turned; with you cradling him in the way he's so used to doing. still, not even he can deny that it feels nice to be held like this.

"s'alright sweetheart. i'm here. . ." you whisper, and the effect is instantaneous. touya stills as he inhales the scent of buttercream and fresh pine that wafts into the bedroom, his eyelids fluttering shut. all he can hope for is that your presence will drive away any nightmares that foreshadow his well-needed rest, and that when he wakes up in the morning, you'll still be at his side.

dabi made a mistake, and thousands more will come to pass, because underneath the grit and grime that makes up his callous exterior, there is a human being; struggling to survive and struggling to please, just as much as the next. but he'll never leave you again. he had promised you as such with the band of gold now encircling your ring finger, and as long as he lives, he'll never break it.

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

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alj4890 · 3 years

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Angst Prompt

Requested follow-up to One Fateful Night

Part 2: The Dark Before the Dawn

A\N Sorry again for One Fateful Night’s angst. This picks up right after and goes a little into the future for Liam and those that survived the earthquake. It gets pretty dark in places and is long, but I think it ends on a hopeful note.

@gkittylove99 @darley1101 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight @lodberg @sweatyrysconnoisseur @motorcitymademadame

Masterlist

The rest of the unity tour was canceled. Unable to speak his reasons why he couldn't do it, Liam left that in the hands of his father and Regina. He didn't want to face the people without Riley by his side, without Drake standing steadfast, without Maxwell's unfailing optimism, without Hana's gentle support.

He had simply lost the will to fight.

Olivia had returned with him to the palace. Neville soon followed, insisting that he would do whatever Liam needed him to. Kiara, devastated by Penelope's death had retreated back to her family estate. Rashad was sent to Domvallier to recover from his injuries. Bastien refused to take time off and was doing his duties from a wheelchair.

Liam ignored all of it. He went to his chambers and remained secluded from the world for days. He refused entry to anyone who knocked. He simply sat there staring at the few mementos he had of those he had lost.

He flipped through the photographs Maxwell had insisted on taking of the three of them through the years. He paused at the few his mother was in, wishing she was here now to tell him how to move on from something like this. She had encouraged his friendships with Maxwell and Drake, knowing he would need them to face life in the public eye.

And now he would never have them again.

Setting the old album aside, he reached for the key chain Riley had given him the night of the Coronation. Thinking of that night and their confessions of love only to be so cruelly parted...his head dropped as he carefully set it back on the table. Next he picked up the pearl he had given her. The plans and hopes they had while meeting in secret. It had helped him through every moment he was kept from her side.

He then lifted the photograph Anna had taken of them for their engagement. Liam's fingers trembled as they brushed against the image of Riley. Her smile so warm. Her eyes so filled with joy.

Reaching for a decanter, he attempted to metaphorically drown his sorrows. In one night he had lost everything he had held dear. How was he to go on from this? There was no enemy to slay, no way to find those he loved and rescue them. Nothing. Nothing except funerals to attend. Nothing but giving them to the cold, unforgiving dirt.

All he had ahead of him was visits to graveyards. He knew his father didn't have much longer to live. It would be just one more loss in his already devastated heart.

Death was what his life had become. He had feared that when his mother was poisoned. Many a night he would wake up crying at the thought of being completely and utterly alone. This long forgotten fear rose up within him, showing that it hadn't been a nightmare. It had been a premonition.

Dropping his head in his hands, he sobbed into the void that had become his only companion.

*****************

Armed with a key, Olivia forced her way into Liam's room. With the first of the many funerals coming up, she knew she needed to get him prepared. The public would be looking toward their king, needing to see him standing against the worst life could throw at him.

Her steps faltered when she saw him. He was slumped over in a chair. Empty decanters sat in front of him, a few tipped over on the table with drops of whiskey spilled out.

The tumbler he had been using had fallen to the floor. The remnants of his drink had stained the Persian rug. His clothes were rumpled. Nearly a week's growth of beard had darkened his sunken cheeks. Dark circles under his eyes completed the look of a man trying to escape his tormented thoughts.

Olivia had to harden her heart. There had always been something about Liam that brought out an unusual softness in her. But that was not what he needed. He needed order. A purpose. Something to get him to step back out in the world.

Grabbing his shoulder she shook him hard.

"Liam!" She snapped in a louder than usual tone. "Wake up!"

He opened his bloodshot eyes with a slight groan. He weakly raised a hand to his head while trying to escape her unyielding grip.

"Get ready." She ordered. "We've got things to do."

"What things?" His hoarse voice cracked.

She ignored his question.

He forced himself to focus on her bustling about gathering his clothes before going into his bathroom. He could hear her starting a shower.

She returned with a determined set to her chin. "Hurry up." She pulled him out of his chair. "We don't have all day."

He stumbled forward, catching himself against a dresser.

Olivia bit her lip as she watched him painstakingly retreat into the bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, she bent to the task of straightening his room. Her gaze fell on the objects he had been using for his only source of company. Tears sparked her eyes when she noticed the photographs.

It wasn't fair. Liam might think he was the only one to suffer with his losses, but she was just as deeply affected. They had been her friends too. A family of sorts, one of her choosing after losing her own at such a young age. She couldn't help but depend on them. Maxwell had been the chipper, up for anything brother she wouldn't have thought she needed. Drake had been her sparring partner, always keeping her wit sharp for any upcoming altercation. Riley...

How had the one she never could quite see completely as her enemy become an actual friend? She had won Liam from Olivia, and yet...and yet Olivia had been grateful. If there was anyone in this world who saw and loved Liam like she herself had, then it was Riley.

And how could she not care for someone who did as Liam deserved?

It was all for nothing. Olivia was left alone once more. Perhaps even more so than when her parents had died. At least then she had been able to lean on Liam. Now he could barely function. It was now her turn to be the one he could depend on in their friendship.

He stepped out, pulling her from her thoughts. He stood there as if at a loss of what to do, whether he should even bother putting forth an effort.

Olivia brought him a jacket and held it for him to slip on.

"We'll eat on the road." She told him, giving him a push out the door.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"A few places." She told him. She glanced back behind her where Regina had remained out of sight. The worry on the Queen Mother's face eased some at seeing Liam out of his room. She nodded gratefully to Olivia before retreating in the shadows to report this small success to Constantine.

****************

Liam stared out the window as Olivia drove him through the capital. He ignored the people going about their day as if the world had not stopped. He didn't bother to focus as he used to on the state of the roads or on some of the older, historical buildings.

He simply didn't care. He figured it was only a matter of time before these things were taken from him too. The terrorists were probably lying in wait for when they could destroy the last of what had once meant something to him.

"I don't suppose you've spoken to anyone at the hospital." Olivia said, cutting through the oppressive silence.

Liam merely shook his head.

She waited in the hopes he would ask about Hana and Madeleine. She needed to see that the old, kind to a fault Liam was still there, only buried amongst his immense sorrow.

The silence stretched once more between them.

"I have." She said, fighting against tears of frustration.

He didn't move. He simply stared out the passenger window.

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Madeleine's recovery is slow yet steady. The doctors believe though that her fair skin will always be marked with scars."

Liam didn't even blink.

Olivia grit her teeth. "Hana though has not been having an easy time."

Liam stiffened somewhat at that.

Olivia pressed on. She was determined to get him talking. Hopefully once he started he could get rid of the despair that was destroying him.

"Her parents want to take her home to Singapore but the doctors don't believe she is strong enough yet." She swallowed down her own lump of emotion. "When she was told of...of..."

Liam finally face forward. "Told of everyone dying on us? Told that I had failed in saving anyone?" His bitterness slashed across Olivia's stuttered denial at that last one. "Told that her life would never be the same again?"

"Liam, you--"

"I don't want to hear it." He responded.

"You must!" She yelled, hitting her steering wheel in her anger.

Liam didn't flinch. He didn't act like he had even heard her.

"Hana needs you! Madeleine does too." She turned into the hospital parking lot. "We all need you to--"

"To what?" He roared. "Give more empty promises that we will get through this? That we will find our way back?" He jerked his seatbelt off. "I respect them too much to lie to them. The last thing they need is a broken man trying to rally their spirits." He opened the door. "Find someone else, Olivia. I'm not the man they need."

"You are!" She scrambled out, tears falling down her cheeks unheeded. "Liam, we all need you right now. Friday is the first set of funerals. We need you there to help us say goodbye."

Liam walked off without a word.

"Liam, please!" She pleaded, chasing after him. "Even if you can't speak during the service, let those of us who love you help you."

He paused before gently pulling his arm out of her grip. "I'm sorry, but I can't do what you ask of me." His bright blue eyes were filled with tears as he raised them to hers. "I'm done, Olivia."

"Liam, you're allowed to grieve." She reached for his hands. "Take as long as you need. But your friends and country need to grieve with you."

"They won't after I inform them of my decision." He took a deep breath. "I'm giving it up."

"Giving what up?" She asked.

"Everything. The crown. The throne." He looked about. "I'm leaving this country and moving somewhere that isn't filled with memories."

"You can't!" Olivia grabbed the lapels of his jacket, shaking him in desperation. "You can't let the terrorists win! We--"

"Why not?" He bit out. "They might be the right rulers for Cordonia. My legacy has been nothing but death. My brother gave it all up because the pressures were slowly killing him. My mother died trying to do what was right. My father gave up the crown because he is dying. I've done nothing but bring death and destruction to those I love the most." He gripped her wrists and wrenched them from his jacket. "I can't do it anymore."

"Yes, you can." She followed him when he walked off again. "Just try a little longer."

He laughed bitterly. "Try? Why? My reign is already marked with uncertainty. I'm a king without a queen or heir." He released a deep frustrated breath. "What's the point, Liv? Every time I try, I get knocked down. Losing...losing Riley, Drake, and Maxwell..." He shook his head. “It is too much.”

"Promise me you won't decide anything today." Olivia pleaded. "Please?"

He ran his hands over his face. He looked up as if for divine intervention before nodding. "I won't hold the press conference today."

"Good." She relaxed some. She knew now that she would have to fight him these next few weeks over his decision. The last thing she wanted to see was his giving up on his destiny in the midst of his grief.

Slipping her arm into the bend of his she tugged him toward the hospital.

*******************

"Come in." Hana called out.

She didn't want anymore visits from her parents but couldn't bring herself to tell them. Hearing that her marriage prospects were now completely gone due to her injury had done nothing but bring her further into depression. Did they not see that what she had lost was so much worse than the lower half of her left leg?

Her dearest friends, her best friends, those that knew her better than anyone on earth were gone.

And I didn't get to say goodbye. I didn't get a chance to save them. Nothing.

Olivia smiled softly at Hana. "I brought a surprise."

Hana sat up straighter when she saw Liam sheepishly appear.

A sob burst from her lips as she reached for him to hug.

Liam's Adam's apple bounced a few times as he struggled to swallow his sorrow. He couldn't ignore her need for comfort and hurried over to hug her. Olivia quietly stepped out so they could grieve in privacy.

"Oh Liam!" Hana cried against his shoulder. "I'm so sorry." She clutched the material of his leather jacket, wishing they would all wake up and realize this was nothing but a dream.

"I'm sorry." He choked out. "I couldn't save them." His tears began to fall freely. "I failed them, Hana. I failed you. I failed everyone!"

She pulled back and gently cupped his face. Blinking through her tears she shook her head. "You didn't fail any of us, Liam. You saved me and Madeleine. Bastien. Rashad and--"

He clung to her. "What am I to do now? Hana, you know I can't face life without Riley. How can I go on after this?"

"I don't know." Hana hugged him again. "But you know Riley wouldn't want us giving up on life." She glanced down at her legs under the blankets. "No matter how hard it is, she would encourage us to keep fighting."

"Hana, Riley was my life. My heart." He lowered his head into his hands. "She was my strength to keep moving forward no matter what was thrown at us."

Hana reached from some tissues, sharing a few with him. "I know. She gave me the bravery I needed to tell my parents that I was more than a marriage prospect for some noble. Now..." Her breath hitched. "Now I don't know what I am or what to do."

Liam moved off her bed and collapsed in one of the chairs by her bed. "What are we going to do?"

Her hand found his. "We help each other. Isn't that what we would hope Riley, Maxwell, and Drake would do if they had lived and you and I had died?"

He wished that had been the case. Not Hana, but that he had been the one Death had come for. He would gladly switch places with them, anything to escape this unending ache in his heart.

He felt Hana's hand squeeze his.

He looked up and saw her trying to be brave for his sake.

Liam didn't know if he could. "I've been thinking of abdicating."

Her lips parted in shock. "Abdicating!"

"Everywhere I turn there is a memory of them." He explained. "I..." He gave up speaking.

"They wouldn't want you doing that, Liam." She reminded him.

He knew she was right, but he couldn't think of moving on as if his very heart had not been ripped from his chest.

"They say when a person loses a loved one that they should wait a year before making a big decision." Hana said, lacing her fingers with his. "Maybe that is what we both should do. My parents want me to go back to Singapore, and I've been tempted to so I won't be reminded of everything."

Liam slowly nodded. "I wouldn't blame you if you did move back home."

"I think what I need is to be with you. Olivia. Madeleine. All of those we still have." She tried to explain. "I need those memories, no matter how much they hurt, to help me heal."

Seeing that he didn't know how to take her advice she gently squeezed his hand again. "Why don't we wait on any decision and just try to get through these next few days."

He eyed her suspiciously. "Did Olivia tell you to say something like that?"

Hana felt her first laugh in over a week burst out. It sounded hollow, as if her body had forgotten how to make the joyful sound. "She might intimidate me at times, but no, she didn't put me up to this."

His lips curved somewhat before settling once more into a thin line. He knew from her words and Olivia's that no one would accept his abdication.

*****************

Madeleine did her best to look presentable. She picked up the small mirror she had insisted be left on the small bedside table. Her eyes touched on the angry, red scars gracing her face and head. Her arm and legs bore others that were long and jagged.

Taking a deep breath, she fluffed the hair that had not been lost in the deep gashes to her scalp. Refusing to give in to the need to cry over something she had no control over, she smoothed her covers and waited to greet her king.

Olivia had shared with her what he wanted to do. Madeleine knew what the fiery duchess wanted her to say and act when she saw him. But she thought she knew how best to respond.

With plan in place, she looked up when she heard a knock to her door.

Liam came in at her bidding him to do so.

He didn't pause in his walk to her bedside like so many did when they first saw the extent of her injuries. She felt her proud façade crack at that. Only Liam would be kind enough to pretend there was nothing unusual about her current hideous state.

Her own parents had handled it horribly. Her mother had been unable to look directly at her without bursting into tears. Her father had bemoaned the fact that she hadn't been able to trap either prince or any other well standing noble before her looks were destroyed.

Just what any young woman needed to hear when awakening from a near death experience.

Liam bowed over her hand while placing a kiss upon her scarred knuckles. "My lady, forgive me for not checking on you sooner."

Madeleine swallowed before asking him to sit. "How have you been?"

His red eyes lifted to hers. "How do you think I've been? I've lost three people I loved. The country lost them along with Penelope and her family. Portivira is destroyed. The Sons of the Earth burned the royal orchard." He slumped in his seat. "I've lost everything, Madeleine."

"Not everything." She corrected. "I know I'm not Riley or Drake or Maxwell." She grimaced at trying to find the right words. "But I am here for you in whatever capacity you need."

"Thank you." He replied automatically. "Your dedication to Cordonia is to be commended."

"It's not--what I meant--" Madeleine closed her eyes briefly when tears pricked her eyes. "Liam, I meant I will be there for you. As a friend." Her nose wrinkled. "As odd as that sounds, I am sincere."

He nodded once more. "Thank you."

They both sat there lost in thought.

"Do you," he cleared his throat, "do you think I should abdicate?"

Madeleine's eyes narrowed in thought. She knew her next words could possibly be the most important of her life.

"Have you done something that could or has harmed Cordonia?"

His eyes widened some. "No."

"Do you no longer care for our people?" She asked.

"No, of course not." He muttered.

"Do you not wish to help them?"

"It isn't anything like that."

"So, your reason is something more selfish." Her green eyes hardened when they met his. "Like Leo, you decide to walk away when ruling becomes too much work."

Liam got to his feet. "It isn't like Leo's reasons! I lost the woman I was to marry. My best friends! Everywhere I turn I am haunted by what was and what could have been. How can I possibly fight Cordonia's enemies when I've lost my sources of strength?"

Madeleine sniffed dismissively. "Every person has lost someone that was their support. If everyone gave up when that happens then this world would crumble to dust."

Liam took a step back from her cold tone. "Madeleine, don't you--"

"Don't I what? Miss any of them? Are saddened by their deaths?" She allowed her sorrow to show. "Of course I do. I might not have been thrilled to be tossed over for Riley, but I would have had to be a blind fool to not notice what she did for you and Cordonia. The same for Maxwell and Drake."

Liam sat back down. "Then what do you think I should do?" He looked down while his bottom lip trembled. "Riley made me a better king."

"Then by all means think of her when you must make a decision." Madeleine told him. "Liam, for whatever reason, fate has placed you as King of Cordonia. You." She stressed. "We've all known you were the better ruler when Leo was our crown prince. It is a great burden, but one that you've never hesitated to carry."

He ran a hand over his eyes. "I wanted to do what I could for the country."

Her lips eased into an approving smile. "As all rulers should be." Reaching over, she patted his shoulder. "I know it won't be easy, but I can't think of anyone better to guide us into the future."

"I feel so lost." He admitted to her. "How can I guide anyone when I no longer have the ones who were my own compass?"

"You'll find a way." She said with certainty. "It may take time, but you will."

He sighed before running his hands through his hair. "I'm so sorry, Madeleine."

"For what?" She asked. "The earthquake was something no one could stop."

"I know." He stood up. "But I'm still sorry."

She nodded in acceptance.

Liam kissed her hand once more and promised to do better checking on her and Hana as he left her room.

Madeleine slumped back against her pillows when her door clicked shut. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she hoped she had somehow said the right thing to him.

Turning to bury her face in her pillows, she allowed the tears to be for herself, Liam, and those they had lost.

******************

That afternoon, Liam departed from Olivia and insisted taking a walk by himself. He went to the private beach and slipped out of his shoes and socks. Rolling up the cuffs of his pants, he began to walk slowly along the shore, allowing the waves to roll over his feet.

He flipped his collar up when the early fall breeze blew by, hinting at an incoming cold spell. He thought it served his mood perfectly. The summer that had once been his world had ended, bringing the cold cruel reality to crash down upon him.

His happily ever after had truly been a dream not meant for the real world. He should have known that he couldn't bring a fairy tale to life. It couldn't survive the cruelness of fate.

He continued his stroll while thinking of his visits with Olivia, Hana, and Madeleine. His conversations with them had only paused his decision. Even if he were to wait as long as Hana suggested before abdicating, what good would it do? He would still be unable to regain what he had lost.

"Liam?"

He paused and turned to see his father walking towards him.

"May I join you?" Constantine asked.

Liam gave a brisk nod before focusing once more on the waves lapping at his feet.

They walked on in silence for a spell. Constantine glanced every so often at Liam’s face, searching for any word that could possibly help his son.

"Who is next in line to the throne?"

Constantine stopped in his tracks. "Who is next in line?" His eyes narrowed in concern. "Why do you ask?"

Liam shrugged. "Shouldn't an unmarried, childless ruler know these things?"

"Son, you have your whole life stretched before you. Give yourself time to grieve and heal. Then--"

"My enemies are at the door." Liam snapped. "Even if I somehow survive them and whatever next hell Cordonia thrusts me into, I will still be without a wife or heir."

Constantine gestured weakly toward a set of lounging chairs. "Sit with me for a moment."

Liam's brief burst of anger turned to resignation when he noticed his father's trembles. Placing an arm around him, he helped ease Constantine down.

Liam took the chair next to his and focused on the ocean. He wondered how he could still find such beauty in it when it had been the final place Riley and Drake had lived.

"I'm going to abdicate, Father." He stated.

Liam was surprised by the silence that followed his declaration. He expected his father to be pleading with him to reconsider or furious for even thinking it.

Instead, he found his father looking more sympathetic than he had ever appeared before.

"I made the same decision when your mother was taken from me." Constantine admitted softly.

Liam's eyes widened. "You did?"

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "Your mother was everything to me." His gaze became distant as he was once again in the past. "She was life itself, my strength." His lips curved into a bitter smile. "She never held back her thoughts and opinions on how we should rule." He met Liam's eyes. "I loved her with my entire heart."

Liam ran his hands down his face. "What," his voice was raspy, "what made you decide to remain king?"

"I'm afraid it wasn't one out of duty or believing anyone needed me." Constantine admitted. "My reasons were purely selfish. I knew the only way to find the ones who took my Eleanor from me was to be in absolute power." His hand balled into a fist at the memories. "For years, vengeance kept me focused on my kingly duties."

"When did it change?" Liam asked.

"It was actually you that opened my eyes."

"Me?" Liam's brow furrowed. "What did I do?"

"You were ten years old." Constantine's lips curved into a tender, proud smile. "Leo was his usual, rebellious self. He had just turned sixteen and was supposed to attend his first official ball. He was trying to get out of it when he found out he would be obligated to dance with every visiting nobles’ daughter, regardless of how attractive they were."

Liam's eyes narrowed as he tried to recall that night.

"As I was walking past the ballroom, I heard your gentle, yet firm correction to his behavior. You were reminding him what a good prince was supposed to do. Be there for his subjects. Kind. Understanding. Sacrificial." He chuckled again. "It was just the slap to the face I needed."

Liam slumped back in his chair. "That ideal is meaningless."

Constantine slowly nodded. "If I had heard it after your mother died, I would have dismissed it too." He reached over and placed his hand on top of his son's. "Time doesn't necessarily heal all wounds, but it does help in how we view them." He swallowed. "There were years where the very thought of your mother brought me to my knees. Her loss was like a festering wound that never eased."

Liam knew that feeling all too well.

"But now, though I miss her just as much as I did before; my memories of her bring me comfort." He squeezed Liam's hand. "They make me grateful for every single second I was allowed with her."

Liam blew out a shaky breath. "Well, unfortunately I can't find and fight the earthquake that took Riley. I don't see the point in being king for revenge."

"True." Constantine nodded. "But Riley, Drake, and Maxwell believed in you. They went on the unity tour for you, for your reign to be successful. Not for themselves. Not for Cordonia. All because they thought you and you alone were worthy to be king."

Liam swallowed a few times as stray tears fell from his blue eyes. "I don't deserve it. I didn't deserve their faith or..." He huffed while wiping his eyes. "I'm not worth it."

"They would say you are." Constantine swung his legs to the side and pushed himself up. "You remaining king is a way to honor them and their efforts to help you be the best one you can be."

Liam pressed his palms to his eyes as a sob tore through him. When he felt his father's arms come around him, he buried his head against his shoulder while shaking with his cries.

Constantine gently rubbed his back while promising he was there for him. That he wouldn't have to go through this alone, that he had him, Regina, and those of his friends that had survived.

Liam clung to him, unable to speak.

Father and son clung to each other as the sun set.

********************

The next few weeks had Liam attending and speaking at the funerals of those that were no longer with them. He didn't bother to try and mask his heartache in front of his people. The nation was touched by his honesty and mourned with their young king.

Constantine and Regina remained by his side. Olivia and Neville traveled with him to each graveyard. Hana and Madeleine were allowed to attend some of the funerals. Rashad stuck by their sides, even helping to push Hana's wheelchair.

Seeing them each time he took the podium reminded him of why he was doing this. His father's words about honoring his beloved and best friends gave him the strength to speak of the type of people they had been.

He didn't know how he got through those first few weeks. Though it took a great effort, he forced himself to get back to his duties. Routine helped him remain focused on what he needed to do and gave him opportunities to continue to grieve.

The rest of the unity tour was canceled. Liam instead spent his efforts in rebuilding Portivira and in replanting the apple orchard. Out of respect and because he couldn't stand the thought of a ball without Riley, he canceled the rest of the year's planned balls and palace events.

With little chance to catch the king in a position that would bring about his downfall, the Sons of the Earth were soon desperate and making foolish decisions to attack during the daylight. Many were rounded up by Bastien's elite task force. Anton was found holed up in a long forgotten Nevarkis stronghold and died in a shootout with the king's guards.

After months of turmoil and uncertainty, Cordonia was once again in a state of peace.

Constantine lived long enough to see it come about. With his sons and wife at his bedside, he quietly passed away after telling them each how much he loved them.

Liam kept working. After two years, he hosted his first ball, an engagement one for Rashad and Hana. He had smiled and gave a sweet toast to the couple, all while remembering his own happiness he had once had with Riley.

As the years went by, he was able to think back on Riley, Drake, and Maxwell with a soft smile on his face.

Then the fifth year as king, he was approached by Madeleine.

"Liam, I think it's time for you to host another social season with potential suitors."

A denial rose to his lips.

She held up her hand to silence it. "I know, but you need an heir."

"There is already an heir. The throne goes to Olivia if I die."

"Liam." She huffed. "The crown needs to be stable. The people want to see you happy with a family." She shrugged her shoulders. "Cordonians are a sentimental bunch."

A family. That had been his heartfelt wish for years. Could he do that? Have one without his Riley?

"I will think about it." He conceded.

Madeleine smiled at him. "Good." She curtsied and left him alone.

Liam rocked back in his desk chair. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling.

"My love," he whispered. "What should I do? You were the only one I could ever picture myself marrying. Mother to my children." His brow creased. "Am I ready to try to find something that can’t possibly compare to what I had with you?"

He closed his eyes, wishing he could find the answer.

"Liam, dear?"

He opened his eyes and looked up at Regina.

She smiled warmly at him. "You fell asleep. Dinner is ready."

He apologized and rose to follow her out.

He halted mid step as the afternoon sun glinted on Regina's silver hair. The answer he needed was right there. He looked back up to the heavens.

His lips curved softly. "I understand. Though no one can ever compare to you, perhaps I can have the kind of luck my father had."

#king liam #liam x riley #olivia nevarkis #choices the royal romance #trr madeleine #trr hana #hana lee #angst prompt #request

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district9forstar1117 · 5 years

Text

Welcome Home

Pairing : Reader x San

Based on the lyrics Lovely - Billie & Khalid

Genre : Pure angst

Thought I found a way

Thought I found a way out (yeah)

You and San thought you could always find a way.

No matter good or bad you've always thought there's always a way out.

But this time not even darkness was on your side.

You both knew that you were drifting apart. Neither of you wanted to move on from where you are nor wanted to let go of each other.

You never wanted those dimples to disappear, his innocent smile was enough for you to make your day bright.

Even when you had no one, you had San. He was always there by your side, through thick & thin. But now, You were losing him too.

But you never go away(never go way)

So I guess I gotta stay now

No matter how much you tried to push away San, he kept coming back to you.

No matter what you did to stay away from him, but in the end he always finds a way back to you.

He doesn't want to leave you even though he knows eventually he would have to.

You know have no other choice but to stay with him when you exactly know that you'll both eventually fade away...

Maybe because you both were too beautiful to let go of each other.....

Oh I hope someday I'll make it out of here,

Even if it takes all night or a hundred years

San knew that one day he needs to come out of his place.

A place filled with dead memories which were once alive, broken promises & empty hopes.

He wanted to come out of his despair but the sadness engulfed him.

He knew that it would take a long time, but he knew he had to for you.

Need a place to hide,but I can't find one near

Wanna feel alive outside, I can fight my fear

You've tried to run away from your fear so did he;

You've pretend to overcome them

You've pretend to be okay

You've pretend that both of you aren't broken.

At last you were nothing but broken pieces of mirror .....

Since when have you been running away from your fear?

You both never knew that this day would come,

Maybe you did, Maybe you didn't acknowledge it, Maybe you never wanted to face the truth.

How long you've been hiding from the world despite your happiness ?

Since when have you both become so selfish that you wanted each other all to yourself knowing that staying together will make the situation much worse than it'll ever be.

But the truth is that you cannot fight..

Isn't it lovely, all alone?

Heart made of glass my mind of stone

Tear me to pieces, skin to bone

“ Isn't it lovely to be alone ?”, San said.

You recalled the time as he spoke to you.

“ What do you mean? ” you asked.

“ Isn't this lovely that we're alone together, away from the world, away from our pain, away from our worries , away from our fear, away from everyone but only us ”.

He said as you started tearing up, you knew that time would come for you..... for him.

No matter how much you both tried to forget your pain, at the end you had to give up.

His heart was now like a thin frame of glass ready to break any time , but his mind was like a stone. He didnt know what he was doing to you & him.

“I'm glad to have you in my life Y/N, you've always been my world, my strength, my weakness, my happiness, my fear and you still are”. He gave a small chuckle and continued,“I don't know what I'm doing but I just want you to know that I love you”.

You choked on your tears. San embraced you in his arms, his warmth engulfed you and saying 'I'm sorry'. But this time his warmth felt familiar and you hugged him back.

Now you both were drowning in the pool of tears . San never wanted you to let you neither did you. After a long gap of silence you called him.... “San”. He then faced you and looked deeply into your eyes as if he was reading you. “ Y/N ” he said. The way he said your name made your heart melt. Little did you know you never wanted him to stop calling your name .

You moved closer to him and hugged him again, you could feel the warmth of the air he was breathing down your neck.

As you pulled away, you looked into his eyes but all you could see was pain and sadness.

You both stared at each other deeply. Knowing that this time will never come back. Knowing that this was the last time where you can tell him what you couldn't.

“I love you san”, it was all you said. All he could do was feel your love as you said but he could also feel the pain behind those words. He put his hand your cheek caressing slowly and looked down at your lips then at you.

You smiled.

This was enough for him, enough for him to press his soft lips against yours. This was enough for him to reveal his darkest secrets to you, enough for him to express how much he loved you.

Your lips molded perfectly as you cupped his cheek, tilting his face to get a better access of your lips.

Your lips moved in sync, the kiss was passionate but needy. Tears flowed down your face as you were unsure of whose tears were those....

He pulled you close holding on your waist tightly but with extreme care like you might disappear if he let go of you. You put your arms around his neck, as you kissed him harder and bit his lower lips earning a small moan from him. He kissed your lower and upper lip in turn. You sucked on his lower lips making him gasp. As you both now smiled . He then bit your lower lip and as he sucked it letting out a soft moan from you and allowing his tongue to slip in your mouth. Both of your tongue were now fighting for dominance and you groaned as he won. You both pulled away gasping for air.

He looked at you with tears brimming in his eyes and kissed you one last time saying "I love you y/n, I love you"...... But you knew that right ?.

San knew that saying goodbye was the hardest part but he never knew that it was going to be that painful. It was tearing him apart.

It was painful for him to say goodbye to you and it hurts for him to let go of you but what hurt him the most was to ask you to stay even when he knew you wanted to leave.

And he had to do it for you.

It was the last time you shared your love together. The last moment where you shared your thoughts together. The last moment where he could see you smile... The last moment where you could see him smile... The last moment where you shared your laugh together .

But it was love that was tearing you apart.

Hello welcome home.

San hopes that one day you'll meet again, not as people but as flowers.

At times you've wished if you hadn't met each other so you wouldn't have to bear the pain of leaving someone you love.

You've always wished for San. Hoping that one day he'll find someone that can give his happiness without giving him any pain like you did.

Little did you know you were San's happiness and you still are.

" We both are still beautiful " he thought. San still hopes that one day he'll find someone who can love him without the pain he has been through.

And he knew that you both have blossomed from the time you had met. He knows that you both have shared your pain, your happiness, your tears, your laughter, and your fear together.

Maybe that's what makes you two beautiful.

After all you both were now trying to make a new beginning rather than fixing the broken pieces.

You hope that maybe after you bid farewell to the world, you'll meet again. Maybe not in this realm but in your little world. And at that time you'll wait for him. You'll be there for him with your arms open....

‘Hello welcome home’

#ateez angst #ateez san #ateez #ateez yunho #ateez mingi #ateez fluff #ateez imagines

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vide0-nasties · 6 years

Note

hi there! you're a darling, eustacia is a babe. how about 2, 3, 11, 17, 21 questions for the ask thingy? (ps. your answer to 20 question was something. i didn't know i need this imagery, god bless you *furiously fans self*)

i'm blushing irl because you called eustacia a babe, i've seriously never lived before today!!! ALSO, real talk? i'm probably going to make that into a longer standalone bc holy shit it was fun to write

asra angst at the top bc i love dying.

3. How would your apprentice handle being so close tosomething that they desperately want, only to have it ripped away? What was it?

It comes back—all ofher, she comes back. Asra’s done it—he’s done the impossible, he’s given her back to her. Only moments ago, hewas a complete, but friendly stranger, and now—now—

“Asra,” she sobs,reaching for him. He looks so relieved, tears spilling from his eyes, and hebreaks down himself, hacking up his own sob, “Eustacia, oh, shit, fuck, thank god! Thank all of them—”

He tries to bury his face in her chest, her stomach, but shedoesn’t let him. No, she drags him up and kisses him so hard they will bothsurely wear bruises.

Everything. She remembers everything. Every little detail.His hand lies flat on her chest, over the heartbeat he so excruciatingly loves,and they cry against each other’s mouths. It’s been so long, too long. Neveragain. They’ll never be apart again. She won’t let it happen.

She’ll tear apart the fucking heavens with her bare hands before he’s made to hurt again.

“The Count?” she asks, between kisses. “He’s dead?”

“Lucio’s dead,” he promises her. “He’s dead, and he’s never coming back.”

Another sob rips from her, and she’s made even stupider andmore boneless by relief. “Nadia lives?”

“Nadi lives. She’s alive, I think she’s safe.”

Eustacia draws him back against her mouth, mistaking the wetfrom her nose and the sting in her eyes as tears. But when her body begins tojerk, disobeying her will, and something trickles from her ears, and her mouthfills with the unmistakable tang of blood…

NO, she wants toscream, but she is frozen in place. Her body stands rigid as her expressiondrops and goes hollow, blank, even wrapped around Asra.

NO! NO-NO-NO! WE HAVESUFFERED ENOUGH. HE HAS SUFFEREDENOUGH. NOT AGAIN, NOT THIS, NOT ASRA. NOTASRA. NOTASRANOTASRANOTASRANOTASRA—

“Eustacia? Eustacia?!Wh-what happened, you’re—why are you bleeding? Eustacia? You…can you hear me?! No, no-no-no, PLEASE,” hepanics, and his panic turns to anger, despair, heartbreak. All of it, writtenplainly on his face, and she can do nothing but watch and scream silentscreams. Agony so intense, it might’ve shattered her beyond repair, if Asradidn’t take it back.

#’s 2 (nsfw), 11, 17, and 21 under the cut!

2. Does your apprentice get flustered over anything? Whatmake them flustered? Do they turn red? Stumble over words?

To give herself some credit—not the overblown, clownishly arrogant kind of credit a person thatthinks poorly of themselves uses to make cover for their self-loathing—Eustaciais usually the one to throw someone off-balance.

But, then Doctor Julian ‘I’m Actually Taller Than You And,Also, Look At My Lovely Red Hair, Dashing Eyepatch, And Big Pretty Hands’Devorak breaks into her shop, and ever since that moment she’s hasn’t knownpeace.

What a fucking suckershe is.

The Rowdy Raven is in rare form tonight, packed to therafters and so loud you’d be lucky to hear a thought in the confines of yourown head. The fugitive and the witch are hardly worthy of note, tucked into a far-backbooth as they are. But they’re having their own party. The masquerade is soon,and everything is up in the air, down to the wire, and all to sea.

It’s a shame Eustacia’s never had a knack for divination,otherwise she would’ve foreseen Julian’s very pleasant, and handsy mood.

The absolute filthhe whispers in her ear. It would make a seasoned brothel girl blush. But, toher credit, it takes Julian slipping his hand down the front of her pants toreally begin to undo her. She remains tucked into his side—nose-to-nose, hisarm around her shoulders—wheezing jagged, nervous laughter. Even with his gloveon, his fingers feel amazing circlingher clit.

She has to be an obscene red from her navel to her chin, andshe knows she keeps trying to bunch up like a dead spider—crossing her legs, duckingher head, hugging her middle, or tryingto. Julian’s making such good arguments.

Her laughter rises to a wild pitch, one of her hands flyingup to cover her mouth when he removes his hand and sucks her slick off hisfingers. She knots a hand in his shirt and thinks her howling laughter willrattle her apart when he kisses her and purrs, “You are the best thing I have evertasted. I really think I might die if I don’t get to hear how you laugh whenyou cum.”

11. Talk about how your apprentice deals with emotions. Boththe ones they like to feel, and what they don’t like to feel.

Unfortunately, especially for Asra, Eustacia knows she isthe sort of person that either feels everythingat the height of their extremes, or she plays numb to cover what she does notwish to display.

Her elevated moods, the good and the manic, make her brassy,brazen. Difficult to stomach for long periods unless you’ve trained yourself towithstand them. In these states she’s loud. Overwhelming. Her energy isfrantic, and she’s too lost to it to remember things like volume control, ormonitoring her mouth, or keeping her hands from being destructive when shetalks with them.

Everything is exciting, and everything needs done right now, right this instant.

Sadness, fear, anxiety—they all become anger. Her teeth andher muscles clench like her fists. Her voice bottoms out and her eyes weighheavy and unforgiving on any and all that cross her path. She stops walking,and ends up stalking, prowling. She watches empty air and waits for a fight tocome to her. When it doesn’t, she wants to look for one.

She doesn’t remember her old life, what kind of historycould happen to produce a person like she is, but she wonders how often shegave into the urge. She wonders if she ever tried to smother the impulse, killthis ugly beast with her hands breaking its neck, like she tries to do now.

When she is overtaken by anger, or clued into the vulgarityof her good moods, she pulls away from herself, putting her mental reins underan iron hand. Her incorporeal self takes a step away from her physical body,needing time and space to right herself, and her expression slips into a coolmask. Her body quiets, starting with her hands.

Only once she has made herself as placid as unbroken glassdoes she return.

17. Can they bear pain? How much pain can they bear? Do theyhate it or do they like it ala our good Doctor?

There’s something mean inside her, something ugly, and itfeels good to feed it.

This is a bar she’s never been to, and never will again. Shepours a beer in the lap of a man she’s never met, and never will again.

Her head snaps to the side when his fist connects. Laughterpipes up her throat, and a crimson bubble of blood on her lips breaks apartwhen it exits. The world blurs when the brawl starts. Eustacia splits herknuckles open on whatever they catch, throws her elbows, crushes feet with herheels, launches her knees.

Starbursts of pain make fireworks explode behind her eyes.Her nose gets broken, her brow split, her jaw rocked. Her cackle is howlingwhen she feels a rib grind together—broken. She rears her head up, catchingsight of Asra’s white hair weaving through the violence. He wades inthoughtlessly, as if he’s done this more times than he can count, a dance thathe knows by heart.

His expression is almost as murder as hers is, but itblanches to rabbit-hearted terror when she wipes her mouth on her sleeve,pushed by the crush of bodies out the door, bar brawl turning street riot likelightning.

It feels like the ocean is sliding off her body, and shestands straighter, taller, broader, as dark as an ocean trench’s bed.

She spits her blood in the face of a man that floors her,his hand eclipsing her head to slam it into the coarse pavers. The side of herhead shreds, pebbling with blood. Asra finds her again, hands glowing dangerously.He grabs the man by the nape, and Eustacia is bombarded by the stench of burnthair, laughing when her attacker screeches and wheels away.

“Get up,” Asra wheezes, taking her wrists. “You have to getup. The guards are coming—get up!”

He’s able to haul her away, her arm flung over his shouldersand her steps sometimes catching. Her head’s fogged, and she’s a littleconfused.

“I was gone for fiveminutes,” he barks. “Five minutes, and you start a riot. What were you evendoing?! What if you got stabbed?! Youcould’ve died, Eustacia—you could’ve died—!Do you know what that would do tome?!”

“Felt good,” she croaks, trying to wipe at her mouth, endingup hitting her nose and sending sparks into her vision. “Felt so good, getting—gettingthe pressure off. Don’t feel so badnow. Always feel so bad, like I’msick. It never stops.”

21. What’s their relationship history look like? What weretheir previous datemates like? Do they have a type?

At thirteen, she had her first kiss, and ever since thatmoment she was ruined. Completely andforever, in fact! When the girl that kissed her immediately stood up and left,scrubbing her mouth on her shirt and retching melodramatically, Eustacia was tooheartbroken to understand this was the beginning of a trend.

Through the rest of her teens, she would find herself drowning in romances—incredibly powerful,painfully short romances. The actualperson mattered very little, she went for all types if they spared a kind wordor a sweet touch on her.

There was a green-eyed woodcutter’s son that wooed herrelentlessly for weeks, and left her minutes after they finished fucking in hismother’s woodshed. A fellow witch in the Sisters that only met her in the dark,who went around calling Eustacia pathetic and creepy behind her back. A poetwith long, silky hair that introduced her husband to Eustacia the way wardensreleased hounds on escaped prisoners.

Her last ‘real’ romance, if you could’ve called a single onereal, was an opera singer. Renaldo Sarintoni, a man twice her age with a tenoras sweet as church bells. She’d gone to two of his shows, and after one of themhand-delivered a bouquet of roses to his door.

She’d scraped and scraped to afford those roses, and she thoughtshe might burst into tears when he ran his fingers over the petals and calledthem beautiful. What a sonorous voice you have, he marveled, do you sing?

Not much—she knew three arias and countless pub tunes—but,for Renaldo, she cleared her throat and sang a piece of a love song for him—libiamo, libiamo ne’lieti calici che labelleza infiora. The sparkle in his eyes was incredible.

That was probably her most intense love. He’d swept her offher feet, dressed her in fine things, wasted money on her to the point of embarrassment,took her to beautiful restaurants. They talked endlessly, for hours, abouteverything. She never wanted children, but might’ve had his.

Three months of otherworldly loving, until they woke up onemorning and he said, “I’m sorry. But…”

As badly as she wanted her heart to scar over and feelnothing, it didn’t happen. Left and right, she continued to fall in love, butno longer did she allow herself to wander into a place where her misshapen littleheart could get broken again. There was little to it left, and she wanted it toherself.

For a time, she fought herself, her nature, her ways. Shesnapped at suitors, laughed off ladies, and heaped scorn upon romantics that sniffedher out like bloodhounds.

And then, Asra found her.

She will end up wishing she hadn’t fought that love so hard.

#holler holler get $#rags wrote a thing #asra #julian #OC: Eustacia i didn't even try for 300 words lol #but i am loving asra in this chilis tonight #my bby my love my heart the light of my life #Anonymous

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