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karakozakov · 4 years

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Fic Rec Pt.2

Here’s more fanfics to make your weekend!!!

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

Haikyuu!!

Pokemon Stars by Sleepy_Dormouse

Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Amanai Kanoka/Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou

Language: English | Words: 316,468 | Chapters: 88/100 | Warning: Work in progress

With fierce battles and aggressive trainers how will timid Yamaguchi Tadashi find his place in the Pokemon world. Traveling beside his best friend, Tsukishima Kei, hopefully he will find his calling and prove to himself and the world that he is more than just a shy boy from Poni Island.

This Insignificant Pride and Prejudice by Mysecretfanmoments, Pouler (poulerslashes)

Relationship: Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi

Language: English | Words: 33,656 | Chapters: 3/3

Oikawa Tooru graduated high school with the burning desire to succeed in his college career. He'd hoped that might include taking down his arch-nemesis along the way, but when he finds that his college team hosts an offensively familiar face, he can't help but think that the universe might be conspiring against him. After all, what could be worse than playing on the same team as Ushijima?

i'll fall with gravity by ebenroot

Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru

Language: English Words: 146,920 Chapters: 14/14

'Iwaizumi finds a lacy pair of panties hanging on the banister when he enters the foyer with coffee, donuts, and files balancing on his forearms. He prays to God that it isn’t his boss’s.'

Iwaizumi Hajime's official title is 'Assistant to Oikawa Tooru, CEO and Founder of Aoba Johsai Enterprises'. It is not 'Supersuit Tester/Friendly Ear to Stressed Scientists/Babysitter of a Nineteen-Year Old Wall Crawler/Sugawara Koushi's Eyes and Ears/Official Merc Bouncer/Unwilling Person that Stumbles Upon a Plot involving Enhanced Children'. Really, he deserves a pay raise.

i don't like darkness by avenqelic

Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi

Language: English | Words: 11,064 | Chapters: 7/7

It couldn’t be real. Everyone had heard of Oikawa Tooru, the legendary prodigy who had gone missing with the rest of the crew from the Seijoh ten years ago. They were out on a four-year mission, with the last transmission halfway through saying they were on their way home.

After that, nothing.

Oikawa Tooru is lost in space. Iwaizumi Hajime tries to bring him home.

cross my heart and hope to die by TripsH

Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru

Language: English | Words: 58,331 | Chapters: 1/1

This summer was their last chance, their final stand—kill or be killed, destroy or be destroyed. Failure wasn’t an option. Not for them.

Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime had crossed their hearts over a promise written in blood and punctuated with the utter decimation of a life they had once known, had thrown themselves into a new life where death was a commonality, survival a privilege. But they had only their goal in mind, only thought of the promises that drove them forward: to fight, to survive, to beat Shiratorizawa and pay them back for all that had been forcibly ripped from them. To win.

No matter what it took, they would.

i'm gonna be the man who comes back home to you by baekuugo (insxouts)

Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi

Language: English | Words: 22,504 | Chapters: 8/8 | Warning: Mature

Iwaizumi Hajime is a single father trying to raise a teenager (or three) on his own. He thinks he does pretty okay and things are going great until he meets the Oikawa Tooru (who isn't as great as people think he is, if you ask Iwaizumi) and his life takes a turn for the best worst.

it's tradition. by hicsvntdracones

Relationships: Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Kindaichi Yuutarou/Kunimi Akira

Language: English | Words: 5,577 | Chapters: 1/1

It's tradition, it's tradition, they all say as they gather up the second and first years. The second years have a look of hard determination, while the first years are simply confused. Oikawa claps his hands together.

"Let's begin this year's annual training camp truth or dare!"

Kunimi tries to run.

A Place to Call Home by the_madame21

Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Terushima Yuuji/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei

Language: English | Words: 191,554 | Chapters: 44/44 | Warning: Explicit

Oikawa Tooru doesn't need an alpha. He's doing fine all on his own. And the past four years of being a single mother have proven that this is exactly what he wanted from life.

Of course, life has a way of not always going as planned.

the slow descent by pennyofthewild

Relationship: Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi

Language: English | Words: 7,127 | Chapters: 2/2

On the first day of university volleyball practice, Oikawa Tooru walks into the gymnasium, sees Ushijima Wakatoshi standing in the middle of the court, immediately turns on his heel and walks back out.

If you can't beat them, join them.

only for the weekend by project_ecto

Relationship: Oikawa Tooru/Iwaizumi Hajime

Language: English | Words: 33,958 | Chapters: 5/5

RENT-A-BAE FOR THE NEW YEAR’S Single and tired of your family and relatives asking when you’re gonna get a boyfriend? Shut them up with your very own fake bf – Iwaizumi Hajime (20 years old, 179cm, great arms)! New year’s packages available!

Platinum - stay all night - matching outfits - small talk - some physical display of affection - cute story about how you met - help with dishes after dinner - details about post-graduation plans - a kiss

CALL 03-0401-1020 FOR A QUOTE!

Complete with a cropped picture of himself stuck on the right side of the godforsaken flyer, typed out in fucking Comic Sans, Iwaizumi was dangerously close to socking whoever thought it was funny to advertise him as a rentable boyfriend.

or, what was a harmless prank somehow lands Iwaizumi with a fake boyfriend for the new year’s.

Open Tab by Mooifyourecows

Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

Language: English | Words: 540,908 | Chapters: 56/? | Warning: Work in progress

To: Shimi hey, quick question, do you think I might be gay? From: Shimi Sawamura's thighs? To: Shimi oh wtf From: Shimi Am I wrong?

All Sugawara wants is a little inspiration. All Daichi wants is for his regulars to finally pay off their tab. All everyone else wants is to drink good liquor and watch as their best friends struggle.

The Haunting of Oikawa Tooru by Esselle

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru

Language: English | Words: 5,685 | Chapters: 2/2

This is not how Tooru wanted to spend his day. It's not his fault he's so in tune with the spirits. He didn't ask to have his house haunted—he’s not even getting paid for this.

But unfortunately, they won't go away until he figures out how to help them be at peace.

"Okay," Tooru says, "so Chibi-chan, you foolishly summoned Tobio-chan's restless spirit, and he's still too clueless to figure out how to move on, hmm?"

Tooru prefers not meddling in the affairs of the dead. Sometimes, however, their spirits don't give him that option.

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dorigvbcorvis · 4 years

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The French Horn

A Second Season Glee Story

CHAPTER 3: THE SECRETS WE KEEP - FROM OURSELVES IF NECESSARY

The Muse behind this story is Kurt’s French Horn tee-shirt. Seen here in ‘The Power of Madonna’ it was also worn in ‘Grilled Cheesus’ - My head Canon since seeing Kurt wear the shirt twice is that Kurt had once played the horn. This is a story that addresses why Kurt quit playing

NOTES:

Since originally this chapter had graphic depictions of high school bullying and the use of homophobic slurs I felt that this might be too sensitive and/or could be a trigger for some and for this reason I split the chapter into three pieces CHAPTER 4 will post likely to my Live Journal or possibly A03

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3: The Secrets We Keep…From Ourselves If Necessary

Kurt felt his world starting to fold in on itself the moment he stepped outside Dr. Thompson’s office. His hand went to his chest as it tightened - Each step he felt his body become increasingly shaky- more clammy, his legs were like lead, and yet chief among these growing concerns for the epicene young man was the fact that the perspiration dripping from his forehead was now leaching product down his face. For him it was the worst; it meant he had to fight like mad the urge to wipe away the whole mess from his eyes with his sleeve of his wool-blend blazer - If he was in his father’s garage in his work coveralls this would be no problem….

But here at Dalton he still needed his uniform one more day as it was midday Thursday. Oh great! he said literally dripping now - He knew he had to find something to wipe the mess away - but he had nothing, not even a pocket square.

Everything was spearheading into a perfect storm and like added water Kurt had come to an icy cold realization that the last time he felt this badly it was just after learning Korofsky had won his appeal and was returning to McKinley. Kurt knew it made little sense to believe Korofski was behind his current malaise - For one the guy would never drive two hours out his way just to seek him out when it was more likely the guy would have just move on to another target. Deep down It was Kurt’s personal hope that somewhere in the whole f***ed up mess that Korofski had just found peace with himself - So where did that put him?

Stalled…stalled by what? fear? Then if fear, what was he was afraid of? And just like that he was back to square one trying to figure it all out.

Shit, Kurt uttered finally wiping the mix of sweat and hair product away with the sleeve of his blazer He had to - It had gotten that bad.

As much as fear made sense to Kurt he quickly ruled this out with the reasoning that fear was something he should have had before meeting with Dr. Thompson not afterwards. Yet looking back at Thompson’s closed office door Kurt knew Thompson was the only thing different in his routine - So what was it about him?

Maybe it was it bringing up his mother’s death and because of this having to stay back a year when he was in the third grade…

‘No, no,’ Kurt shook his head: ruling this out. It couldn’t be this. There had been countless times he had shared how he didn’t have a mom - and sure this often bought back heart ache and tears - He could not recall a time this ever make him feel this physically ill.

Kurt’s head started to swim with racing thoughts he didn’t want. If he were at home right about he was sure nothing at all would be stopping him from numbing his thoughts with alcohol – His Aunt Mildred’s variation on a Tom Collins that entailed mixing champagne with gin came to mind. “Except news-flash Kurt,” Kurt made a harsh point to informed himself. “You only just came off probation…Something like getting drunk at Dalton is not just dumb but you’ll surely get yourself put back on probation or worse get yourself expelled.’ This self-admonishing only made things worse and he still wasn’t any closer to knowing what it was exactly that was making him he feel like crap and he was running out of ideas.

The only thing Kurt knew looking at his watch was that the lunch hour had almost slipped away completely without him eating a thing. This revelation made Kurt giggled with a sad laugh - ‘Was is it really that simple? Was this only because he had skipped a meal?’ He of course remembered when he and Mercedes were in The Cheerios and how Mercedes face planted in the middle of the cafeteria’s from not eating. Low blood sugar now seemed plausible and it had a lot of the same symptoms. This was enough to point his feet in the direction of the cafeteria in hopes that this late the dining hall would still be open. Kurt quickened his steps fearing this would indeed be the case.

Just as he expected- Only the cleaning crew was in the hall. Gone was everyone else. He walked past a crew bussing tables with what dishes still remained on his way to the cafeteria itself only to find the cleaning crew had already switch off the heated buffet tables and removed the food trays leaving nothing but lukewarm baths of water. Even the salad bar had been gutted…but what really sucked was The desert case had been completely emptied out he could have totally gone for comfort-food in the wondrous baked pastry form.

“I’m not going to catch a break am I?” It was a loud enough statement for him to start to fume. That was until one of the headphone wearing cleanup workers stopped and pointed out the three tiered basket display at the end of the counter.

“Thanks,” Kurt said to the worker

The worker only nodded and rolled his mop bucket out of Kurt’s way

The worker was right - It hadn’t been cleared out yet. Five weeks of being at Dalton Kurt knew Sandwiches had always been placed in the bottom basket, chips and pretzels in middle basket, and fruit in the top basket. ‘It would have to do,’ He told himself as he rifled through saran wrapped sandwiches Only here too he found his run of bad luck had continued because every last one of them was Ham and Cheese sandwich - Kurt uttered an Ugg tossing back the of the lot he has looked at - He absolutely loathed processed deli ham he found it too salty and that emulsified gelatin sort of grossed him out. If it was to be ham he preferred a slow cooked ham leg that had been properly cloved or pork tenderloin medallions glazed in a sesame ginger sauce and then that had been grilled to perfection …and then he would not ever add cheese. His stomach growled thinking of food but he didn’t seem to be catching any luck.

He knew it was his own damn fault He should have eaten first and then gone to see Thompson - ‘actually,’ Kurt thought internally correcting himself - ‘He shouldn’t have gone to see Thompson at all - That way he never would have spilled the beans and made himself feel like crap now…Now was that really what was wrong?’

‘Oh crap,’ He knew now. While it bothered him that any additional meeting with Thompson he would end up letting the man know everything - What was really bothering him; the brass tacks of it all, was the risk of his dad finding out all the things he kept from him. It would kill him. Suddenly Kurt wasn’t hungry anymore he tossed back the bag of sun chips before picking it up again plus an apple from the top basket. Kurt knew it would be six hours until dinner service.

Kurt quickly departed the food area to find a seat the worker with his mop moved in behind Kurt to mop the floors like they had been only waiting for him to leave.

Kurt tried not to let this too bother him the guy after all pointed out the chips….but the thin irony of it all was feeling like every last thing in the world was eating at him while he went without anything to eat himself.

Kurt was just about to sink his teeth into his apple when he heard Blaine call out for him. And as much as he was secretly crushing hard on the black haired boy with the killer tenor voice the last thing Kurt wanted was for Blaine to see him like this - So exposed, so vulnerable with his heart pounded in his chest like something was terribly-terribly wrong. Blaine called to Kurt with a tone that was both happy and relieved to see him. “So it’s true -Trent said he saw you in here. I totally looked for you everywhere during lunch.”

“Except where I was,” Kurt blurted, before instantly regretted it. He didn’t know why he said it out loud. “I had to see Dr. Thompson.” Kurt now said, offering up the truth.

The explanation alone gave Blaine pause. He knew Dr. Thompson and how most at Dalton liked the man- It was just as well known how many emerged from his office in tears either because they had lost their scholarship or because they had to see Dr. Thompson in the capacity of the school’s psychologist…given his own bout with the man and how similar Kurt’s situation mirrored his own it was much too likely this was how it was with Kurt now but it wasn’t until Blaine actually looked at Kurt did his happy go lucky demeanor change… “My God, are you alright? - It looks like you’ve been crying “

“It’s nothing,” Kurt said defensively blowing off the question.

Blaine wasn’t about to buy Kurt’s write-off noting how he could “Totally see your eyes”

Caught Kurt was back peddling “What I meant was, I don’t want to talk about it and I kind-of want to be alone right now” this much was true.

Blaine frowns… ”Fine,” he says, after a beat of feeling stunned. But then he adds “But let me at least tell you why I was looking for you.”

All Kurt had to do was look at Blaine sitting in front of him hazel eyes looking like a lost puppy for him to cave. “Okay - You win. Why were you looking for me?”

“I got comp tickets for my King’s Island gig - Dad called right after our duet in the Commons Room - He has to fly to New York on business so he can’t go.” Blaine sets a King’s Island admissions ticket down on the table and pushed it towards Kurt - It’s yours if you want it” then he adds with a high brow flourish Call it a Thank You for our practice session last night” Blaine returns back to common speech for the details “The plan is Mom is gonna pick me up Friday to drive me there. We’ll probably stay a couple nights in Cincinnati and come back on Sunday”

Kurt silently cursed the rotten timing of how in a heartbeat he would go see Blaine and spending two nights in a hotel with Blaine? …In the same room? Kurt was kicking himself. “I-I cant,”‘ Kurt said, biting his tongue in protest. “Friday is dinner night - I also have these damn papers my dad needs to sign.”

“What are those?” Blaine asked, suddenly taking notice of the stack of papers sitting on the table next to Kurt’s arm.

“One is for a test I need to take…” Kurt trails off “The others…” Kirk’s voice breaks and wavers as he starts over… “The others are because Thompson thinks I should see someone over what happened”

Blaine was nodding knowingly. “Yeah, he was like that with me last year…But he’s good. He’ll listen…But…you don’t want to hear that do you?” Blaine saw Kurt didn’t seem to be listening.

“It’s not that, not really - It’s complicated - It’s why I have to go home when I so much rather go with you and not have to bothered with this - It’s just horrible timing and rotten luck. And - I am sorry”

Blaine shook his head, Kurt’s apology wasn’t needed - He knew he would have no trouble finding another to go in Kurt’s place. It was that he was just as sorry it wouldn’t be Kurt joining him.. He also heard the hurt in Kurt’s voice so he knew it wasn’t out of personal choice. It was why he hesitate to go any further talking about Thompson or his King’s Island gig - Instead the first words out of his mouth are only about the test. “Haven’t you taken enough tests? - I mean when I came here I didn’t have it anywhere near as bad as you had it” he looks again at the stack of papers and corrects himself saying: “….still have it”

“That’s because you came here as a sophomore” The voice seemed to come out of nowhere. Both boys look up to see that Wes was now standing at the table’s edge. Wes was still talking “Kurt came here as a junior, and everybody here knows that’s the year they get you: SATs, Subject Tests, AP Exams….” Kurt’s eyes had widened hearing what still remained. Wes switches to a more personal note with Kurt and asks “Did everything go ok with Dr. Thompson?”

“Yeah, he just wanted me to take some cognitive test” Kurt answered, deliberately stopping short of repeating the bit about Thompson also wanting him to seek counseling..

“Very well. You boys need to finish up here and get to class.” Wes starts to walk away before turning back. Oh, and don’t forget we have a double practice meeting today.”

“Through dinner?” Kurt asks with the kind tone in his voice that would let anybody know he wouldn’t liking the answer if it was to be yes.

Blaine was already jumping to Kurt’s defense. “He’s kidding!” Blaine exclaimed, placing a comradic arm around Kurt’s neck like they both in were in sync while he emphatically added: “We’ll be there!”

Wes raised an eyebrow but he was also a perceptive young man, he knew enough to guess what was behind Kurt’s objection. With a shrug he said. “We’ll order pizza like we always do when our practice cuts through dinner”

It was just enough to make Kurt reply with a simple relieved “Oh?”

“Now you two should really get to class. The Warblers have a reputation to up hold.”

“What kind of test did you say?” Blaine asks wondering if he would be someday be taking the same test.

“It’s called the CogAt - Apparently I was supposed to have already taken it. But I never did. That’s Public Schools for you - gotta love that attention to detail.”

“You’re smart,” Blaine insists like it’s known statement of fact.. “You’ll probably ace it”

“I’m not that smart”

“Yeah, you kind-of are,” Blaine reaffirms with a warm smile that could melt butter. “It’s one of the things I like best about you.”

Kurt manages a halfway smile. He knew there was no ‘there’ yet between them but he loved it when Blaine flirted – It made him believe that one day there could be.

“Well, you heard the man,” Blaine said, standing up.

“Where to?” Kurt asked, also getting up out of his seat and placing his paperwork in his satchel along with his apple and unopened bag of chips.

“I have Algebra” Blaine answered, promptly. “You?”

“World History - I actually think today might be the day I am finally caught up with the class.”

“You’ve been working on that hard enough.”

Kurt pursed his lips - He wasn’t sure if what Blaine said was meant to be a jab or not.

Blaine was already sheepishly offering a correction. “What I meant to say is I hope whatever it is getting you down - I hope it passes”

Kurt drew a hard breath trying to hide his feelings he managed to nod.

The boys left the dining hall not saying much else. They proceeded down two long corridors to the section of Dalton where the classrooms were. Kurt watched Blaine turn down the maths wing “I’ll see you after class,” Blaine said, with one last look back. He then proceeded turning the door knob to his math class and walking in.

As the door closed Kurt suddenly knew he was never going to make it to history… He went straight to the nearest bathroom to throw up the contents of his stomach which under the circumstances wasn’t a whole lot. When he finally had stopped he washed his face. He looked up from the sink, to the mirror mounted above it not at all liking the young man in the mirror staring back at him. Not even a little.

Maybe it was because he was in a restroom - maybe it was because he was dripping with perspiration…or maybe simply after two years it was bound to resurface but standing there looking at himself in the mirror Kurt’s memories came flooding back and covering his face he began to sob.

The pee filled balloons didn’t end with him being chased off the football field - No, That was where it began - It started back up again after the jocks followed him into the same bathroom.

#Glee #season 2 #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #angst #fanfic #french horn #pee balloons #cptsdhealing

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camillemontespan · 5 years

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she wolves [part seven: raspberry]

Part Six if you want to catch up

Warnings: Character death.

@jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @moonlightgem7 @burnsoslow @ibldw-main @emichelle @katedrakeohd @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @mskaneko @nazariortega @dcbbw @gardeningourmet @iplaydrake @notoriouscs @star-spangled-eyes @rainbowsinthestorm @stopforamoment @pedudley @drakesensworld @pug-bitch @msjr0119

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Kiara

Cordonia is in even more of a limbo now after the passing of Leo. Only Olivia and I know the truth, we know he was murdered in his bed by Madeleine but only Olivia knows how she wants to proceed.

I'm terrified.

You don't cross Olivia Nevrakis unless you have a death wish.

The funeral is today, a few days following the announcement of his passing. As like his younger brother, Leo is given a state funeral and the public come out in droves to pay their respects. He was well loved. Despite the fact he abdicated and left the country to his dictator brother, everyone in Cordonia had hoped the abdicated king would come home and save them.

That was all anyone wanted.

But instead, he came home and now no longer breathes.

He is displayed in an open casket and is drowned in gold military regalia, despite the fact he never served.

Madeleine reaches his coffin and with a tear sliding down her cheek, she presses her hand to his face and audibly whispers, 'I love you.'

Someone give the girl an Oscar.

I watch Drake and Camille approach him next. Drake's features are drawn and I know what he's thinking. Another Rhys brother dead.

Olivia is next. Her posture is ramrod straight and her hair is pulled back into a high ponytail that hangs down her back. She wears a black net over her face. She looks like a regal widower, except she and Leo were never married.

She presses a kiss on Leo's cold lips and everyone in the room gasps. This is her announcement that she loved him. This is Olivia claiming him as hers.

Madeleine

I stare at Olivia, trying to keep my face calm but I know it's not working. She has kissed Leo in front of everyone. Nobody knew about them. Nobody knew about our uneasy arrangement.

She strides down the marble steps and her eyes narrow at me as she passes. She doesn't need words to tell me that she did that deliberately.

I sense people watching me so I flash them a smile and follow the procession out of the room. Cold and unflinching, that is what I have to be.

Olivia

I go back to my room at the palace. I tear my black net away from my face and toss it on the bed. I sit down at my dressing table and look at my reflection in the mirror. I look paler than usual and my eyes even have eyebags from sleepless nights. It's hard to get to sleep when I believe that I can see Leo lying beside me, the ghost of him always around.

I have a plan.

All I need to do is speak to Kiara.

Kiara

My mobile rings. I don't recognise the number so I reject it, going back to watching the news channel about Leo's funeral.

'Olivia kissed him!' one of the hosts says. 'Did you know something was going on with them?'

'I had no idea!' Natalia, the main newsreader, says. 'I do wonder what Madeleine thinks of all this. It was quite a statement..'

My phone rings again. Sighing, I pick up. 'Hello?'

'Fucking hell, Kiara, you're annoying to get hold of.'

It's Olivia.

'Oh! Sorry Olivia, I don't have your number so -'

'Well, know it now!' she says bluntly. 'I need to talk to you.'

I mute the TV and focus on the phone call. I hope its nothing bad.

'I need you to throw a dinner party for the other ladies,' she says. 'Camille, Penelope, Hana and Madeleine. Me too, of course.'

I'm wary. I have never trusted Olivia and I don't plan to start now. She senses my discomfort as she continues to speak. 'Just a dinner party.'

I don't believe her. 'Why?' I challenge. 'Why invite Madeleine of all people? I know you want her blood so why invite her to a dinner party?'

I know she's rolling her eyes. 'Enough with the questions, Kiara -'

But I've had it. I'm tired of being seen as too quiet, too boring, too weak. I need to stand up for myself.

'No, Liv,' I tell her, my voice harsh. 'If you want me to host a dinner party, then you need to tell me why. I need to know what you have up your sleeve.'

'What makes you think I have something up my sleeve?' she asks, her voice like silk.

'Because I know you,' I tell her, my voice steady. 'I know what you're like. You enjoy manipulation and power plays. There's always an agenda with you.'

'Wow, don't beat around the bush,' she drawls. I stay quiet, wanting my silence to speak volumes.

She sighs. 'Kiara, I can't tell you what I have planned. To involve you even more would make you an accomplice.'

My blood runs cold. 'Accomplice?'

'Trust me, you don't want to know. I just need a venue and an innocent excuse to get Madeleine in the room without prompting suspicion.'

I bristle at this new detail. Olivia has given away more than she meant to.

'So this is about Madeleine.'

She is silent.

'Olivia, I'm not getting involved with you and Madeleine -'

'You won't be,' she says. 'All you have to do is let us into your home for one evening and let me do the rest. Nobody will suspect you. Besides, the less you know, the better because then you can rightly say you had no idea of what I'd been planning.'

'Olivia -'

'We can be allies,' she says urgently. She reeks of desperation. 'Me and you. If I don't win the crown then I can support you. Or, if I do win the crown, I will ensure that you are given a role within my council. You can travel around the world, represent Cordonia!'

'Olivia, you're pathetic,' I spit, disgusted with her.

She goes silent. I hear her breath coming out harsh, almost like she's choking.

'I need her gone,' she whispers, her voice cracking. 'I can't have that monster on the throne. She killed Leo. I can imagine she also killed Liam as his room also smelled of vanilla when he was found.'

I can't help but gasp. 'How did you know that?'

'Leo told me,' she mutters. 'The smell of vanilla haunted him afterwards.'

We're both quiet. She is waiting for my answer. I think about Cordonia under Madeleine's rule. She would become power mad. She would be a cold queen, unfeeling.

Olivia may be a terrifying person but I know she is loyal to Cordonia and she does have some sort of emotion. I don't want her to be Queen, clearly, but anything is better than Madeleine. Especially now.

'In interviews, when asked which of your competitors you respect most, you say my name,' I dictate.

'Done,' she says.

I think to myself. 'You stop insulting me and treating me like I'm the shit on your shoe.'

'Done,' she says.

I sigh. 'I'll invite them this weekend.'

'Good,' she says. 'Oh, Kiara?'

'Yes?'

'Don't you fucking dare make me beg again.'

Camille

Drake hasn’t stopped smiling since we found out I’m pregnant. He is practically giddy. We’re going to the hospital today for a dating scan and he helps me into the car even though I don’t need assistance; he’s so eager to be supportive.

Usually our driver will take us places but today, Drake insisted on driving us himself.

‘This is the beginning of the Walker family,’ he told me. ‘I want to be like a normal family, just us and our kid. I want to drive us everywhere, do normal family things, just be Drake and Camille.’

I understand completely. We don’t want any frills or fuss about this; we want to act like a normal couple on our way to a hospital appointment.

He plays the radio station I like in the car, which is Absolute 90s. He hates 90s music but he’s put it on for me specially because he wants me to be happy. I’m so happy already, nothing can taint this joy I feel inside, but he just keeps trying. He even goes the extra mile and sings along to The Backstreet Boys. ‘Tell me whyyyyy!’

I burst out laughing and he grins at me, not caring how cheesy he is being. ‘What? I’m so fucking excited, Camille!’

I reach over and hold his hand. He squeezes it gently and I can see the kind of father he will be. Protective, loving, utter goofball. My marshmallow.

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

‘You’re eight weeks along,’ Dr Valentina confirms. ‘So far, the baby is as big as a raspberry.’

Drake presses a kiss on my forehead and whispers, ‘Our little raspberry.’

He is so involved. He’s asking the doctor so many questions: ‘What can she eat? What does she have to avoid? Will morning sickness fade? What can I do to help?’

Dr Valentina answers every question and just when she is about to go onto something else, Drake comes up with another question. He is already so in love with our little family and I feel my heart swell as I watch him.

‘I’ll give you two a moment,’ the doctor tells us and she leaves the room. Drake turns to me and his eyes are crinkled up in the corners because he’s smiling so much.

I lean over to kiss him softly. When we part, he is still smiling.

‘I love you,’ I murmur. He reaches out to twirl a lock of my hair around his finger and his eyes roam my face, taking me in. Drake always makes me feel like he’s memorising every detail of me; like I’m not real and will fade away before he can commit my features to memory.

‘Husband and father joint first, Duke second,’ he says simply. I frown. ‘What do you mean?’

‘My priorities. You and Raspberry are my only priority. Family comes first before everything else.’ He places his hand on my stomach. ‘I’m never going to forget that. You both are everything to me.’

I blink back happy tears and place my hand on top of his. ‘So are you. Wife and mother joint first, Duchess second.’

We don’t mention the possibility of me becoming Queen. This is not the moment for that. This is our little pocket of normality which is us finding out how far along I am and how tiny our baby is. Nothing else is allowed to disrupt this peace. I just want us to continue being this happy and hopeful for our future together.

He kisses me hard, a deep, urgent kiss that conveys his absolute devotion.

‘Family first,’ he whispers.

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

Kiara

That weekend, the other ladies arrive at my home for an elegant dinner. I’ve chosen the finest wines and delicious cheeses for us to enjoy and the dining room is decorated with tall pillar candles. I am trying my best to conceal my nerves over what Olivia has planned. I don’t want to know what she’s doing but I wish I had some sort of idea so I could prepare.

I assume she’s asked me to host because Madeleine can’t say no. It would be rude and arrogant for her to reject my invitation; if Olivia had invited her, Madeleine would have given her the cold shoulder.

The other ladies are invited as a cover. Make this look like a dinner party but really, it’s Olivia’s revenge.

Olivia arrives first. She is wearing her usual red, a long silk red dress with a split up the thigh. Around her thigh is a holster with a dagger encased inside it; purely for show or is she intending to use it?

Around her arm is a ruby cuff that resembles a snake. It twists around her arm and glints in the candle light.

Camille arrives next. She is wearing an emerald green silk dress, rose gold heels and her hair is pulled up in her signature chignon. She always looks chic and sophisticated, which is a true feat for an American.

She and Olivia exchange awkward small talk; Camille rejects a glass of wine, instead asking for sparkling water. Our eyes meet and I give her a smile as a sort of silent congratulations.

Soon, everyone is here. Penelope arrived later than everyone which is a surprise as she is usually so prompt but I see her hair is a little dishevelled and she has a pink flush to her cheeks. I look out of the front door and see her driver, Thomas, getting back into the vehicle. I wink at Penelope and she puts her finger to her lips. ‘Shh..’ she whispers, a sneaky smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Madeleine is wearing black. She never wears black but she is acting the part of grieving ex-fiancee so she has to stick to her role. Olivia’s eyes scan her black dress and she gives a harsh laugh, shaking her head in disgust.

We all sit down at the long table and toast our glasses together.

‘Any reason why you’re not drinking wine, Camille?’ Madeleine asks.

Camille keeps her face straight. ‘I just don’t feel like drinking, that’s all.’

‘But Kiara always has the best wine,’ Madeleine says, her eyes flashing. ‘It’s rude to reject your host’s efforts.’

Camille’s eyes widen and she looks at me, ready to apologise, but I shake my head. ‘Don’t worry, Camille,’ I say. ‘I’m not offended at all.’

She gives me a grateful smile and sips her water.

‘I think you’re lying,’ Madeleine continues. ‘It’s just us girls. Let’s be honest!’

She is trying to get a rise out of Camille but she forgets that Camille is usually level headed and has been trained by the best to always smile while gritting your teeth.

‘Well, if you want to start talking about honesty, Madeleine..’ Olivia says, her voice laced with venom.

Madeleine blinks. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

She blinks again, trying to look like Bambi. Olivia looks like she wants to launch herself across the table at her rival. Instead, she stands up and struts out of the room, her head held high.

Olivia

I pick up my handbag and go into the kitchen. Spotting a servant, I beckon them over.

'Serve this to Madeleine,' I instruct, taking the bottle I've brought with me out of my bag. 'She'll love this wine.'

The servant looks too terrified of me to ask what I'm doing in the kitchen or why I'm handing them this suspicious bottle. This is when being feared becomes a positive thing. People do what you want, no questions asked.

The servant takes the bottle and I turn on my heel back into the hallway. I'm about to re-enter the dining room when a familiar voice behind me stops me in my tracks.

'Hey, trouble.'

I turn slowly to see Leo.

I collapse against the wall. My heart is pounding and my skin breaks out in a sweat. I'm seeing things, I'm definitely seeing things. He is leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed with his lazy smile on his face. He's wearing a white shirt, the top three buttons open, and black trousers. It's what he was wearing when Kiara found him.

I close my eyes, willing him to disappear, and open them again. He's gone.

I turn back towards the dining room but the cold air around me has me frozen and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I hear Leo whisper in my ear, 'Be careful, my love.'

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

Penelope

I'm day dreaming again. I can't help it. Madeleine started insulting Hana and I zoned out, my automatic reaction when it comes to Madeleine and her bitchy comments.

I think about Thomas. He is waiting outside for me in the car, doing his job as my parents ask. But what they don't know is that I was in the back seat with him before I knocked on Kiara's door. I straddled his lap and fucked him hard.

'Now both Rhys brothers are dead, surely there will be an investigation?' Hana asks, breaking into my thoughts.

Madeleine scoffs. 'Investigation into what?'

'Well, they were both found in their beds,' Hana says, her voice sharp. 'Bit suspicious, isn't it?'

'I think Leo would want us to move forward,' Madeleine tells her. 'He wouldn't want us to dwell on the past.'

Olivia comes back into the room and let's out a cold laugh. 'Is that why you're wearing black, Maddie?'

Madeleine's lip curls in contempt. 'Don't call me that.'

Olivia sits down and stares at Madeleine. 'I can call you what I want. Maddie. Mads. Bitch. Desperate. Murderer.'

We all start at this last word.

I see Kiara's eyes widen and she scrambles trying to move the conversation on -'More wine!- but we are all fixated on Olivia's accusation.

Madeleine looks like a fish out of water. 'Don't call me that.'

Olivia raises an eyebrow. 'What? Which word? Desperate? Murderer?'

'WINE!' Kiara calls out. The servants come rushing in with a tray of glasses filled with wine and set them out in front of us. Camille rejects hers and picks up her glass of water.

Kiara

I need this to calm down but I know that Olivia and Madeleine are too far gone. I didn't expect Olivia to call out Madeleine with such an accusation. I curse myself. Usually, I'm good at reading people and situations. I should have expected this to blow up. Why else did Olivia want to invite her?

Olivia picks up her glass to do a toast. Everyone follows suit, too scared to say anything.

'To Leo,' Olivia says. 'May he rest in peace.'

We all say, 'To Leo,' except Madeleine who tosses her wine down her throat.

Olivia stares at Madeleine with a look of pure hatred and something else etched on her face before speaking.

'May he rest knowing he hasn't died in vain.'

Hana

Madeleine's face turns purple. Literally purple.

'Um, guys..' I say, pointing at her. 'Madeleine.'

Madeleine begins to choke and she brings her hand around her neck, spluttering and coughing. 'Help..' she croaks.

'Nobody can help you now,' Olivia tells her, sipping more of her wine.

I turn to her. 'Olivia, what have you done?'

She shrugs. 'What I should have done ages ago.'

I look at Kiara who has gone white. I see everyone around this table has gone white.

'We have to do something!' I scream. I forget that I hate Madeleine and she makes me feel like shit. Her life is at stake, she is choking.

I get up to help. Camille is on her feet also, shaking, and we are all shouting at once, panicking while Madeleine chokes some more.

She falls to the floor.

'Oh god, oh god!' Camille shouts, rushing over to get on her knees. 'Do I roll her over?! She'll choke on her back -'

'She's choking anyway,' Olivia drawls. 'She'll be dead in a minute.'

Madeleine's fingernails claw at the floor and a horrible sound emits from her throat. Tears are pouring down my face as I get down beside Camille, who has rolled Madeleine onto her side.

Kiara is screaming at Olivia.

'This was your plan?! You were going to poison her?!'

'Yes, this was my plan,' Olivia replies. 'Deal with it.'

Kiara

I'm furious. I knew Olivia was planning something but not this. I didn't expect poison. I didn't expect to see Madeleine fighting for her life.

'I thought you would only make her tell the truth, not poison her!' I scream, unable to calm down. 'You're just as bad as she is!'

'How do you know she murdered Leo?' Penelope bursts out. She's holding onto the edge of the table, tears falling down her cheeks. 'What proof do you have?'

Olivia whips around to speak but is interrupted by Hana.

'She's dead.'

We all look down at Madeleine who is lying still. Foam has frothed at her mouth and her eyes are open and like glass.

Camille has pressed her hands against her mouth, stifling sobs. 'Oh no.. Oh no..' she whispers.

Her hands then go down to her stomach and she turns on Olivia.

'I'm pregnant!' she screams. 'What if that drink had been given to me?!'

'You've been rejecting wine all evening, it's fine,' Olivia says, rolling her eyes. 'You wouldn't have been killed accidentally.'

Camille's breath comes out shallow. She looks like she's going to pass out.

Hana's eyes narrow at Olivia. 'If you're right and she killed Leo, you're just as bad as she is.'

Olivia is on her feet now. 'I know she did because she was the last person he saw the night before he died! The room smelled of vanilla which is HER scent! You know what other room smelled of vanilla? LIAM'S! She killed both of them in cold blood! She needed to be stopped!'

'You didn't have to kill her!' Penelope shrieks, joining in. 'You could have reported her to the police, got her investigated! But no, instead you had to be typical Olivia and resort to violence!'

'Oh, do shut up Penelope,' Olivia droans. 'It's done.'

'Why did you involve us?' Hana asks. 'We can just go to the police and tell them what you have done.'

We all look at Olivia who's face is hard to read. But I know that she doesn't feel remorse.

'If you go to the police,' she says, 'you'll have a similar fate to that murderer at our feet.'

'You're disgusting,' Camille chokes out. 'You're not even human.'

Olivia's eyes flash.

'I did what I had to do. Accept it.'

#trr fanfic #olivia nevrakis #hana lee #camille montespan #choices fanfiction

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sunshineandfangs · 5 years

Text

Neither a Bang Nor a Whimper

Step 8: Celebrities (actors, musicians, youtubers, etc)

@howeverlongs and @joey-prue

Warnings: Mention of religion/religious institutions in an atypical way. I don’t think it’s offensive, but just in case.

In 2012, the world ended.

Although not in the way the Mayans or doomsday movies would have predicted.

The world didn’t end in dramatic catastrophe, a crumbling of the earth or an asteroid from space. No, the world ended when a seemingly innocuous blonde strode her way onto a live news broadcast.

“Good afternoon,” Caroline said gently, expecting the abrupt jolts from the humans despite her mild tone.

The two news anchors swung their heads to stare at her as did the filming crew and staff. The room was still for a long moment before erupting into a flurry of motion.

Someone sent word to edit out a few seconds of film, hoping the slight delay, even in live broadcasting, would cover it. The two suited anchors, a man and a woman, reoriented themselves to the camera, trying to press on as if nothing odd had happened. All the while several others scrambled toward her as a call to security went out, trying to usher her off set.

Caroline smiled at their attempts pushing them out of the way with the bare minimum of force, moving forward with ease.

Nearing the stage, she could see the broadcasters eyeing her from the corner of their eyes, trying not to look distracted on camera. They were doing a decent job of it, but she would disrupt their efforts all the same.

Vanishing and reappearing behind the two, she pressed a firm hand to each of their shoulders, stopping them from leaping up.

“I am Azrael an Angel of the Creator. Please, call me Caroline.”

They didn’t believe her at first, of course. Even with the minor show of supernatural power. They cut the broadcast, transitioning as best they could to some pre-filmed stock, and tripling their efforts to get her out.

Stop

Caroline intoned, her voice reverberating with an odd mix of apparent English and Enochian.

Everyone froze, locked in place by the power of her command. She sighed knowing this would be a struggle. With a casual wave of her hand, she conjured seats for everyone and in the same motion maneuvered every person into one.

Before letting her command fade she stepped away from the two humans she had set her hands on, sensing their spiking terror. Fear wasn’t what she had come for, though she realized some was inevitable.

Another still moment passed, before a weight seemed to dissipate from the room and everyone took a breath. Several tried to lunge from their seats, but found themselves stuck to the cushions, though every other part of them could move find. Soon a majority were shouting, their voices rising in an unintelligible clamor.

With another sigh, Caroline raised her hand, regretful as several flinched back into silence, but capitalizing on the dimmed voices all the same.

“Be not afraid, I will not harm you.”

It was the brunette anchor that spoke up despite the roiling fear Caroline could feel emanating from her.

“How can you tell us that? How can we believe you when we’re at your mercy like this?!”

Caroline turned her focus to the brunette, keeping her expression as friendly as possible. Pointedly, she shifted her gaze lower, settling on the glint of a necklace chain peeking out from the blouse collar. Raising her gaze to meet the woman’s eyes once more, Caroline spoke.

“But you do believe, Susan.”

The woman gasped, reflexively raising a hand to grasp the cross Caroline had eyed. Her lips parted, but no words escaped her.

Shifting in front of her, the woman’s fellow castor interjected.

“Hey! I don’t know what kind of bullshit you’re trying to pull here, but-

The man cut off as her eyes fell on him, the strength of her regard far fiercer than he was expecting.

Caroline incline her head, acknowledging the man’s sentiment.

“Peace, Brendan. Your defense is admirable, but unnecessary. I will not harm any of you.”

Finding his voice, he spluttered. “You already said that! But you can’t honestly expect us to believe you’re an angel?”

She shook her head, blonde curls shifting with the motion. No, she hadn’t expected them to simply believe her. “Not in an instant, no. So, tell me what proof you would ask of me.”

One of the silent onlookers piped up, “What you can’t simply read that from our minds?”

“I could, Joshua.” Caroline continued, ignoring the uneasy shifting. “But it gives you comfort to voice your doubts.”

“Your wings.” Susan peered up at her, hand still clutching her silver cross, voice soft, but surprisingly firm.

“Their entirety would sear away mortal eyes. However…” Caroline let the word hover as she shifted the veil on her true form, a tiny fractional adjustment. Just enough that the shadows of immense wings could be seen spreading out from behind her.

It had taken hours to truly convince everyone and weeks to advance the plans Caroline had descended with. The slight oddity from that afternoon’s news was quickly forgotten until two months later.

Around the world, every mainline news station cut to an image of her face. With a flex of power every other broadcast was hijacked, until over a billion television sets displayed her visage.

“Greetings,” she spoke, her voice universally understood, “I am Azrael an Angel of the Creator.”

A barrage of interviews followed as billions clamored over the truth of her existence. The world shifted as people warred with their faith. Did they believe her? Were they skeptical? Fearful? Angry? Zealots strengthened and weakened in turn and religious institutions saw a flood of new supplicants even as several of those institutions verged on implosion.

But if the regular humans were in turmoil, then the supernatural world was even more so. Many, well-familiar with power plays and feats of magic, were the most skeptical of the so-called angel. And wary. Would she out them to the world? Spearhead a purge of apparent abominations?

“You must admit, the sheer gall is almost impressive, brother.”

Klaus scowled as he peered out the window, mind whirling with plans, running through all the steps he had already taken.

“Enough, Kol,” Elijah admonished, “take this seriously.”

Kol threw his arms wide, pivoting as he turned to face his brothers. “What, you don’t think I am? Do you think I’m so ignorant as to not realize the potential threat of this woman?”

Rebekah interjected before her brothers could really get into it, arms crossed as she peered at Klaus.

“So what’s the plan, Nik?”

He shifted, his eyes sweeping over the tense forms of each of his siblings. Even the newly awoken Finn and rediscovered Freya looked grim.

“As much as I dislike it, surveillance and possible negotiation, for now.”

“And if that fails?”

His eyes glinted gold.

“War, sister.”

“Niklaus Anselson.”

Klaus tensed at the sudden address, expecting neither the name nor the way the syllables rolled together, an echo of his mother tongue.

Pivoting, Klaus displayed none of his wariness even as his eyes took in the blonde “angel.”

“I prefer Klaus, love.”

The woman capitulated without a fight, demeanor portraying nothing but geniality.

“Klaus, then.”

Crossing his arms behind his back, he readied the anchor for a prison world, even as he continued their exchange.

“I must admit, I’m rather curious as to why you’re here. Surely the humans endlessly request your attention?”

Her face softened as she smiled, appearing surprisingly genuine to his keen senses. “They are a rather eager bunch, yes. But to answer your question, I am here to assure you.”

His eyebrow rose even as his ears caught the rapid approach of his siblings. “Pardon?”

A little smirk curled across her lips, a stark contrast to all the other expressions she had worn. “Oh, I’m quite aware you don’t want a pardon.” The joke garnered no reaction, though he doubted she expected one as she continued on without pause. “You will not win a war with me, and I do not wish to fight one with you.”

He narrowed his eyes, it was only just earlier today that he verbalized his plan for war.

“Then, what is it that you do want?”

Instead of answering, the blonde stepped closer before suddenly turning, eyes landing on each of the places his siblings hid.

“Mikaeldóttir.” She gave a small nod in the direction of Freya. “Mikaelson.” She said as she continued to Finn then Elijah then Kol before shifting to regard Rebekah. “Mikaeldóttir.”

Perhaps it was rash, but the ease with which the blonde detected his siblings alarmed him. Not to mention her knowledge of their history, to call him Anselson of all things. With her attention removed from him, Klaus took the opportunity to hurl the anchor at her feet.

With a sharp crack the orb shattered open, its power whipping through the room and ripping a tear in reality. Energy sparked and discharged in bolts before the tear expanded to consume her form. Her face showed neither surprise nor resistant, and for a heartbeat he worried it would fail.

It didn’t.

With far less fanfare then its forming, the rip sealed shut around her.

His siblings cautiously padded into the room, each of them eyeing the spot where the woman had been standing. Both she and the orb gone, banished to separate dimensions.

“That was anticlimactic,” Kol uttered.

“Well, I told you I did not wish to fight.”

All of them tensed and whirled to eye where the blonde now casually leaned against the wall behind Klaus, tossing the orb in her hand.

Their eyes flickered to the orb and back to her face, each sensing it was still be-spelled.

Tracking their gazes the fuck-maybe-she-is-an-angel smiled, and with a twist of her wrist warped the anchor from existence.

“Now, maybe we could chat like civilized beings?”

AN: So lots of open questions still. At this point I just have to add it to the pile of “yeah, maybe I’ll write more, maybe...” Apologies I am bad at writing longer pieces. And yeah this got weird I really took “celebrities” and ran with it in a wild direction.

#12KCXMAS #Klaroline Shippers Club #Klaroline #Klaroline Fanfiction #Klaroline Drabbles #My Writing

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ikesenhell · 6 years

Text

Truce

ALL SHADES OF BLUE, Chapter 2. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: This whole piece was inspired in part by this song by Gregory Alan Isakov. This was a LiveWrite!

The only warning he got came in the form of a messenger limping into camp, a slash wound through his calf coloring his shoes crimson.

“We’re under attack,” he gasped, clutching at his ankle. “Date Masamune is nearly upon us.”

The rest of the encampment sprang into action. This was bad news indeed. How many men did the One Eyed Dragon bring? A hundred? A thousand? Kennyo wasn’t so naive to expect that they’d brought any less than it took for total extermination. “How many did you see?”

“Only him.”

That didn’t fall within his expectations. Kennyo considered their position for one long moment. “Have archers take up position around the camp. No one is to engage him except at long range. At the first sign, fill him with arrows.”

“What’s going on?”

Oh hell.

The woman emerged from her hut, bracing a bit of wash under her arm. Of course. It figured that she was the subject of the Date lord’s attentions. More annoyingly, Kennyo knew that winning her over to his philosophy in the heat of the moment was a tall order.

“We’re under attack.”

“Oh really?” Her mouth squared off in a line. “And from who, praytell?”

“Does that matter?” He snarled.

She rolled her eyes and thrust the basket into his arms. Hardly waiting for him to take it, she shoved back her sleeves and marched down the hill. “Yeah, how about I just talk to whoever it is rather than have someone die today?”

Buddha help him. Hers was the most peaceful solution, that much he knew. He hadn’t gone so many decades in a temple to forget that. Still--still--the possibility of bringing down one of Oda Nobunaga’s most favored vassals was too tempting to pass up. Frustrated and tormented and uncertain in turns, he charged after her. “Come back!”

She ignored him and stepped into the trees. Silently he vowed to never take in one of Nobunaga’s people again.

---

It was almost insulting to face against so many untrained bodies. Masamune resorted to using his fists and his tanto, barely breaking a sweat. What was that crazy monk even getting at? If he really meant to use these poor souls as his army, didn’t he understand how many of them would die? Mitsuhide had warned him about the fervor of their devotion. Frankly, he didn’t understand. How devoted could you be to a lost cause? On one hand he admired their faith. On the other hand--

Well, people called him half-blind.

“Hey!”

He swiveled at the greeting, tanto in hand and waiting for a fight. Fortunately for Kennyo, it was exactly who he was looking for.

“Lass!” He sheathed the blade with a chuckle. “Great. There you are. Let’s go.”

He had to admit she was spirited. No one else gave Lord Nobunaga a run for their money as much as her. Their little chatelaine was not so prone to following orders as the others might have liked; in the few days they’d had her, she’d been no end of questions and comments and suggestions, one after the other, each more pointed and suitable than the last. He’d missed the show since her kidnapping (and honestly, how had her assailants even succeeded? It felt hilarious to suggest that anyone could just pick her up and walk away, not with a mouth like that on her).

And then she surprised him yet again.

“I’m not coming.”

He frowned and dug a free finger in his ear, trying to see if he was losing his hearing as well as his sight. “Funny, Kitten.”

“Really. I mean it, Masamune.”

“Now’s not the time for games. You know Nobunaga’s done nothing but whine since his ‘lucky charm’ went missing. We’re all worried about you. Even ‘Yasu!... though I’m pretty sure he’d rather chew off his arm than admit it.”

That got a smile from her. “No. But thanks.”

What the devil was wrong with this woman? Masamune held his tongue and stared her down for a long, long time, trying to get a read on her. Sometimes his men would lose courage in a fight and he could see it there. Not her. No, it looked like she was more prepared for one than ever. “What’s going on, Kitten?”

As if summoned from hell, a singularly deep voice cut between the two of them. “She said ‘no’, Dragon. Or is your hearing as poor as your sight?”

There he was. Masamune considered the possibilities of just stabbing the menace then and there. Kennyo emerged from the woods with his prayer staff in hand (and honestly, that was just insulting to Masamune’s sensibilities), the third angle between the chatelaine and him. For the smallest second he wondered if she was in league with the monk.

“You ass, I can speak for myself.” She shot him a withering stare. “Masamune, really. I mean it. I don’t want to come back.”

Kennyo seemed chastened enough that Masamune almost laughed, so he sheathed his tanto in a display of grace. “Alright. I’ve got a minute to spare, Kitten. Make your case.”

She narrowed her eyes as if to say ‘I don’t have to make a case to you at all’, but apparently she was game enough. “It isn’t like you all didn’t treat me well.”

“Okay. Is it Nobunaga? Did he try something with you? You know if you tell Hideyoshi, he’ll just burst in wherever with a sandal and chastise him. Or hell! I will.” Masamune mimed slapping someone with a shoe. “He won’t break the alliance for that. Or if ‘Yasu was rude to you, I can just put him in a headlock until he apologizes… well, okay, he won’t apologize, but he won’t be rude again.”

She covered her mouth to hide her laugh. Masamune relished the look of utter dismay on the monk’s face.

“No, it’s not that,” she murmured. “I’m really sorry.”

“Are you so serious about bringing her back?” Kennyo asked. Very real surprise lingered in his voice. “What is it about her that Nobunaga simply can’t find in another girl?”

“Oh, you’re just an asshole right now.” She flung a nut at the monk’s head, laughing. It missed. “Look, yeah, I get it, I’m too old to be unmarried, but let me live, right?”

“Gotten attached there?” Masamune snickered. “I can find you a lady if you calm down.”

“I’d rather have your head, Dragon.”

“Chill. Both of you.” She motioned toward them both, finally joining him in the clearing. “We can just talk.”

But now the monk was staring at her. What an expression that was! It was so hard to parse it; he so often expended time figuring out less pleasant faces, faces drawn with conflict and war and tragedy, and this was decidedly not that. He stared long enough that the other man realized he was being watched and scowled.

“If…” Kennyo hesitated. “If they so eagerly want you back, why don’t you return? It seems a far more amenable position for you to be in...”

“Never thought I’d see the day that Kennyo and I were on the same side.” Masamune laughed. “C’mon, Kitten. Really.”

For her part, she glared at the other man. “Throwing me under the bus, ah?”

“‘Bus’?”

“It’s Portuguese for ‘Stop it’.”

“I’m just thinking in your best interests…”

What a weird twist. He watched her face oscillate between contemplation and confusion and annoyance until she turned away, the shaved underside of her head stark against her long locks. “Would you give me a day, Masamune?”

“A day?” He echoed. “Maybe. I dunno. Mitsuhide’ll probably have my head.”

“You can come up with something. I just need to think.”

“You’re putting me in a weird position here, Kitten.” But he inhaled hard. Mitsuhide was just shady enough to not go straight to Nobunaga. Besides, one day? If she reigned and didn’t come with him tomorrow, he certainly had backup--and forewarning on what might happen. He shrugged uncertainly. “I mean, I guess I can.”

“Thanks.” The line of her shoulder softened. That would have to be enough. “I promise I’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Alright. If I don’t see you then?”

“Assume I’m being held against my will or something?”

Masamune shot Kennyo a look before responding, “I dunno, he did just tell you to come with me. I’ll reserve judgement for later.”

“I didn’t--” She inhaled sharply, releasing it only a moment later. “Yeah, that was a bad joke given the circumstances.”

Shoving down the wicked urge to laugh, Masamune bowed to both of them. “See you tomorrow, Kennyo.”

The ex-monk didn’t grace him with a response. He just turned and stalked off into the treeline. Beat getting shot at.

---

She didn’t come to supper. Kennyo feared for a long moment that she’d just left, just abandoned the encampment and run further into the woods, but his fears were allayed when he passed by her hut and saw the wash she’d only just done pinned up and dripping. It didn’t follow that she would do laundry and then leave (especially given that she was the only person in the camp who could wear that style of kimono, though he supposed the men could use it in a pinch). He shoved down the urge to chase after her like a lost child and instead busied himself with the security of the encampment. They would have to move after tomorrow. If Date Masamune knew where they were, then so did the rest of the Oda.

But night fell, and the stars and moon shone bright as a lamp, and she was nowhere to be found.

He considered himself fortunate that he knew the woods as well as he did. He traced her footfalls through the soft moss, down the river and straight to the edge of a cliff. She’d been there for some time. Her knees were bound up around her chest, arms wrapped tight over them, eyes staring unseeing over Azuchi. He’d never bothered to take in the view before. Something about looking made it too… personal.

“Hey.”

“Good evening.”

She quirked her mouth and said nothing more, so he settled in beside her at a safe distance, assuming a lotus pose in the leaves. Chill wind snapped at his face like the threat of his infinite winter and she shivered slightly.

“Cold?” He asked.

“No,” she answered, then followed up with, “Can I tell you something absolutely insane?”

That was never a good way to start. “I’ve been privy to a number of questionable thoughts, so I can only tell you I won’t judge.”

For once her smile wasn’t so pointed. She didn’t seem as rigid in the moonlight; maybe she felt safer in the dark, more obscured from prying eyes and grasping hands, shrouded in something more honest and real than other people. At last he understood that laughing at him, herself, anyone else, was as much about hiding in the daytime as filing the silence.

“I’m not from this time,” she said, and he wondered if he’d heard her right.

“Did you mean ‘place’?”

“No. I meant time.” She didn’t even bother to look at him. “I’m from five hundred years in the future. I was out on a walk and wound up here. I’ve got three months until another pathway to my time opens up, and then I’m gone.”

What was he supposed to say to that? A thousand questions buzzed to the tip of his tongue and fell away in quick succession. How did history remember him? How did history remember Nobunaga? What kind of a world was it? How had the people fared? Yet--yet--he couldn’t bring himself to ask them. It felt like a gateway into a world he wasn’t prepared to face.

“So you’re not Portuguese,” was all he managed, a thin little joke that at least garnered a giggle.

“No. Different continent altogether.”

“Ah.” He didn’t know if he wanted to ask what a ‘continent’ was. “So in three months you’ll be gone?”

“Yeah.” She stared into her hands, watching her fingers flex and curl and roll one at a time. “Cause, you know, I don’t have any of my medication or anything, and that would be pretty trash to deal with all this on my own.” A beat. She motioned at her head. “I have a disease.”

“Is it treatable?��

“Yes, but only in my time. Some of the symptoms include lying in bed for long periods of time, not being able to move, so on. We call it depression.”

“Oh.” What did he even say to that? “I see.”

Wind echoed mournfully against the mountainside below. She shut her eyes and almost leaned into the sound, her whole body absorbed in it. “Want to know the wildest thing?”

“Mmm.”

“I don’t know if I want to go.”

His brain struggled to understand. She had the choice to go home. She had the choice to return, to go back, to rejoin what she knew, to divorce herself of the horrifying reality of this time. “Why?”

She shrugged, a heavy gesture that said more than words. “Because no one there is waiting for me to get back.”

Once more they lapsed into silence. Kennyo wondered if he could slide beside her and brush away that hair of hers, pull it back into the same long ponytail as the rest, ease some of the sorrow that hung around her like a blanket. Once upon a time he knew the balms for a heavy heart: a good ear, warm tea, a sutra, a helping hand. Who was he to administer them now? The same hands he would use to soothe her would just as gladly slit Date Masamune’s throat.

“You should go back to Azuchi,” he murmured.

Her eyes were luminous, but she said nothing. He pressed on. “If no one is waiting for you in your time, then at least you should have the mercy of someone waiting for you here.”

“Not you?” She asked, and he wondered why that hurt so much to hear.

“It is better for you there. When you return home, you can take all the time you spent here in repose and find people who care just as much. It would be safer.”

For a long, long time she said nothing at all. When the darkness grew close and comfortable around them, she leaned in her head and rested it against his broad shoulder.

“Alright,” she whispered. “If you say so.”

---

Masamune came to fetch her without incident. Kennyo almost wanted the fight. He could taste ash and blood and flame on his tongue, taste his hatred for Nobunaga and the dust of his friends from Hongan-Ji, feel the weight of a life ripe for picking before him--

And he did nothing. He let the warlord collect that wild, strange, luminous woman, and pretended not to notice when she gave him a second glance at the bottom of the hill.

---

She wasn’t happy.

It wasn’t as if she’d ever been comfortable, exactly. Masamune recognized an anxious spirit when he saw one. She flitted from job to job with intent hands, the deep, focused crease set hard between her brows. He knew his way around women (for the most part--it wasn’t as if women were all one and the same, that was just insulting), but her? Oh. He couldn’t figure her out at all. Something weighed heavy on her shoulders and evaded him in turn.

“Kitten.” He tapped her nose for attention, thrusting a small plate of mochi under it. “Have some. Smile a little.”

“Do you do that to the men?” She groused, taking one of them anyway.

“Yeah? Ieyasu hates it the most. I swear he’d shave his nose off if he thought it might stop me. Hideyoshi almost cut off my hand for doing it to Nobunaga.”

Now that got a reaction. Her eyes sparkled and she bit into the sweet treat, a rare pleasured gaze swirling in the edges of her mouth. He just stood and watched for a long, long time, soaking it up until she was done.

“Those were good.”

“I’ll make you more if you like.”

“You made those?”

“Yeah. Food is good for morale. Seriously, Kitten, do you want more?”

She clapped off her hands and shook her head. He almost gave up the ghost. Almost.

“Would seeing your creepy monk friend help out?”

Her gaze was nothing short of suspicious. “Why are you offering?”

“Because you seem down and I don’t have a--what was it you accused Nobunaga of having?”

“A murder boner,” she finished, her voice catching enough that he knew she thought it was funny.

“Yeah. That.”

“You definitely do, by the way.”

“I don’t even know what that is, I was just taking a shot in the dark if I’m honest.” At least she was smiling now. It warmed him from toe to tip. “Seriously Lass. I don’t think you’ve got enough information on hand to give anything over to an enemy. So long as he hands you back over at the end of your visits--and given that he just let you walk away last time, I imagine he would--you’re free to do that. Would that help?”

“It might.” She ground her sandal into the ground, shy as he’d ever seen her. “Thanks, Masamune.”

“Anytime, Kitten. Anytime.”

#Ikesen #Ikemen Sengoku #Ikesen Kennyo #Kennyo #Ikesen Masamune #Masamune Date #depressed MC #All Shades Of Blue #ASB #Truce #my writing

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artwork-mystery · 6 years

Text

Books and Deals

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: ♡ | ♧

Words: 2.6k

Warnings: Slight suggestiveness and language but that's pretty much it

Notes: Semi unrelated but Joonie in glasses is so cute and, and- help please... my heart has turned to mush. Idk what this really is, but as always, hope you enjoy.

Masterlist

Summary: Agreeing with the tall, cute stranger’s deal to share the only book you both happen to want, is the best decision you’ve ever made.

_______

You walk through the double doors and a content smile paints itself across your lips when you fully step inside the building you love the most - the library. The smell of old and new books alike and the calm, quiet atmosphere sends you into a state of complete and utter peace. There's nothing quite like reading a book that captures your entire mind and has you in a whole other world, where everything around you fades into the background and you're completely lost in the words, and lost to reality as you stay glued to the pages.

If there were contests for reading books - which there may be but you're too lazy to even check - you're sure you would be able to win first place, without fail. You're practically a marathoner, a champion, a true master of the books. You've read whole series within weeks - even within days! It's no easy feat and you pride yourself in it; having spent hours upon hours, through entire days and nights, continuously reading, so of course you should be proud of doing something you're not only good at but also love.

When you were younger, it surprised you greatly when people would say, 'I hate reading,' and other utterances because you couldn't fathom how they disliked something so great. True, it's not for everyone, but you often found out that those very same people hadn't even read a book - or at least one of good quality. You admit, not all books are great, but if people just took the time to dig a little deeper and not judge just from the cover of the book, they might be pleasantly surprised. You believe there's a book for everyone - they just have to find it.

You walk into the aisles and skim over the books, browsing, carefully reading the titles in search for a specific book you've heard about that has piqued your interest. You search for a couple minutes and as you make your way down a row of books, you finally spot it, making a grab for the book. Apparently someone else wanted to read the same one because another larger, warm hand grazes your own as you both grasp the leather binding.

Turning your head you're met with a pair of deep, dark brown eyes and you both stay frozen, staring for couple seconds before you left go of the book. You're immediately aware of how handsome this guy is. He's got a soft smile, glasses perched upon on a small, button nose, and a rounder face that makes him seem... squishy. You laugh a little nervously, having been so focused on getting this particular book, you didn't realize someone else had also gone for it. You have been wanting to read this book but you don't mind letting someone else have it; you can always come back later and check it out, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

"I'm so sorry, you can have it," you smile warmly, albeit a little awkward.

"Oh, no, I wasn't paying attention," the man says, holding out the book towards you. "Ladies first." A dimpled grin lights his face, eyes slightly scrunching.

You politely decline, poking it back towards him. "Nah, really it's okay, I can always read it later. I'm in no rush."

He shifts his weight, tugging his lower lip in between his teeth in thought. "Hmm, well thank you but I have an idea," he quirks a brow, another soft grin appearing. You look at him expectantly, interested in his thoughts. "If you'd rather wait, that's fine, but I'll propose a deal."

This really could be interesting. "A deal, huh? What's the deal?"

His dimples seem to pop out even more as he shoots you another cute smile. "We could both read it and meet here or somewhere else," he says, eyes watching your reaction.

"You want to meet somewhere to read it together," you ask, not entirely sure about this deal.

"Yes, but if you don't want too... I guess I'll just have to accept your offer and read it myself while you wait." Another grin but the way he's looking at you says that he won't actually go through with that; he'll probably just let you have the book anyways if you decline and he seems like a perfectly nice guy, offering a solution that only makes sense to two book hungry readers. Neither of you will have to wait, and it could be fun to read with someone else, giving your thoughts and discussing it as you go along - like a really small book club.

"Sounds pretty cool, but I'm not sure yet," you say amusedly. "I could be persuaded though."

His eyes shimmer and he bounces on the balls of his feet in his excitement, almost like a little kid, but he's pretty tall so he's like a giant, little kid and it's pretty cute. "Is that so? Well, I know a place that has some great coffee and other things. Free food, drinks, and getting to read this book seems like a nice deal, yeah?"

You pretend to think it over, fingers tapping against your chin for added effect. "Does seem like a good deal. Mhmm, alright deal!"

"Fantastic," he beams, "I'm Namjoon by the way, and you are?"

"I'm Y/n," you smile up at him.

"Y/n," he repeats slowly, storing it away to his memory. "Do you want to meet up here? What day would work for you?"

You don't have any plans or anything scheduled, besides work, which you don't have until another three weeks because of some renovations so you're free for awhile. "Sure, and any day works for me."

He nods his head, lip caught between his teeth, chewing on it before releasing it. "How about tomorrow then? The sooner the better, I always say," he grins lopsided, eyes hopeful.

"Sounds like a plan," you agree, brushing some hair out of your face. His grin only gets bigger, dimples on full display, eyes closed to slits.

"It's a deal then."

Before you had left the library, you had exchanged numbers and set up a time to meet, both of you agreeing on meeting up at 11:30 so you have time to go get lunch. You're currently texting back and forth with Namjoon as you sit in your pyjamas, eating some ramen and laughing at his cuteness; he's really funny and easy to talk with. Your conversations have been very entertaining thus far - going from light and silly to deep and philosophical topics.

As of right now, you're both flirting and joking around.

Namjoon 7:14 PM

I need to tell you something

Y/n 7:14 PM

What??

Namjoon 7:15 PM

I just thought that I should let you know but I'm very accident prone. I don't even know how it happens all the time

Y/n 7:15 PM

Oh no... I'm worried for the book's safety now. Maybe I should have just taken it like I've taken your heart?

You start quietly giggling to yourself, flirting and teasing Namjoon a little is quite fun, and he has a great sense of humor. It's nice seeing how he reacts to you because since you've been texting - which has

Namjoon 7:15 PM

Oh wow. My poor heart. But you were only in it for the book I see... You really just wanted my heart so you could break it and get to the book huh? A heart isn't as tough as a book and you took advantage of that!

Y/n 7:17 PM

Are you guilt tripping me? Because lemme tell ya, it's kinda working

Joon 7:17 PM

Well I had it coming though. I exposed myself!! Can't entirely blame you

Y/n 7:18 PM

Oh okay, then I feel less guilty now hehe

Joon 7:20 PM

You didn't have to break my heart though, Y/n, there are plenty of other ways to obtain something. Like, I don't know... asking?! But actually, you probably should have taken the book. I'm worried for it too haha

You can't even type properly; you're too focused on trying to breathe after laughing so much at his apparent clumsiness, and the way he just rolled with your teasing and flirting, even joking with you back, has you hunched over. The conversation comes to an end and you bid each other goodnight as you get ready for bed.

You wake up more energized than usual this morning, excitement running through your veins as you think about meeting with Namjoon for lunch and your little book club later. A small, quick breakfast is all you can manage to make and eat before you start getting ready and dressed for the day ahead. Once finished getting ready you start walking towards the library, nerves and excitement building up at seeing the tall, handsome and nerdy guy known as Namjoon.

Opening the double doors you're met with the sight of Namjoon standing near a broken chair, face hidden in his hands as he shakes his head, and sighing in exasperation as a lady speaks with him. You slowly make your way over, barely catching their voices.

"I'm so sorry, ma'am, I don't even know how I did this," Namjoon apologizes, eyes wide in bewilderment and brows furrowed.

"It's okay, sir, but I'll have to ask that you not use any of the chairs for now," the lady tsks.

"I understand, I'll just-" he pauses as he spots you, "I'll just be on my way." He turns on his heel and walks towards you, a hint of a smile gracing his features but as soon as he gets close enough to see amusement glinting in your eyes, his smile fades and is replaced with a shy grimace.

"You didn't see what happened did you," he inquires. "Please, tell me you didn't..."

You stifle a giggle, keeping your face straight. "I saw everything."

He looks embarrassed and begins holding his head in his hands again. "Hahh... that's great. Now you know to stay a safe distance of five feet away from me, but it's honestly for best," he chuckles lightly.

"I didn't actually see much but I'll keep that in mind," you grin, wrinkling your nose. "I trust you though - not to break me like you break other things. I don't need five feet," you say seriously, putting your hands on your hips.

"That's extremely brave of you," he laughs.

"Well, yeah, I'm pretty brave. Except when flying bugs are involved, then all hell breaks loose - I'm out." Namjoon laughs and agrees.

You guys leave the library and go get lunch quickly. You've come to find out Namjoon likes to make deals. You both just made a deal that whoever finishes their giant milkshake last will have to pay for lunch. You're winning.

"Y/n, slow down! You're sucking way too much and too fast!"

"Well you aren't sucking enough and too slow," you retort.

"I suck the perfect amount and speed, thank you very much," he huffs.

"You're just complaining because I'm winning," you smirk, raising your brows - in what you're to sure to win - victory.

"You suck," he grumbles.

"Better than you do," you say smugly. The both of you make brief eye contact as everything you've both said settles in your brains, cheeks flushing slightly and childish giggles seeping out of your mouths. "Oh my god- I can't... wait-"

"I don't doubt that," he sniggers, and you stop laughing, scoffing.

"Hey! Don't twist my words."

"I'm not twisting anything," he feigns innocence, eyes squinting. "I'm so pure."

"Pure my ass! You can't fool me, mister, I've got my eyes on you.

"Oh, so you're ogling me now?" A mischievous grin breaks out in full capacity.

"Am not! You know what I meant."

"I do. First you wanted my heart so you could take the book for yourself, and now you want even more; you can't keep your eyes off of me. What more do you want! You're quite insatiable aren't you?"

"Shut up and drink your milkshake!"

"I'm not thristy though... but it seems you are."

"I will not hesitate to whoop your butt. This belt isn't just for accessorizing."

"Wow, first date and we're already getting into the freaky stuff now. I didn't know you'd be into-"

You stop him from talking by smacking him a few times and flicking his forehead while he just bursts out laughing into the crook of his arms, shielding himself from your onslaught. You can't help but join him in the laughter, finding talking and joking with each other very comfortable and easy. Reading the book together could prove to be difficult for the two of you. You're both fairly childish and haven't stopped joking since meeting and trying to focus on anything but your new buddy so far is pointless but it's worth a shot.

After finishing lunch, he pays - not without complaint though, he said you cheated somehow - and you both head back to the library to start on the book reading. You step inside the building and see that the broken chair is still there. It looks like a crime scene because there's a bit of tape around it and a sign saying, 'Careful of chair, it's broken," and it seems as if they even tried putting it back together - key word tried.

You glance at Namjoon and he looks sheepishly at you. "I think we better use the bean bags, don't want you breaking anything else while we're here, now do we?"

"Ah, come on, really. Why you gotta attack me like that," he sighs.

"Why did you have to attack that chair, Joonie?"

"I didn't- Bean bags are great! Let's go." You grab his arm as he begins walking away, turning him around to face you again. He blinks at you, cheeks a little red from the nickname you unknowingly called him. "Y-yes?"

"On second thought... bean bags are off limits. We're sitting on the floor, you can't break it."

He throws his head back dramatically but a smile cracks on his lips. "I wouldn't entirely rule that out," he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Wait what? How the- Nevermind, let's just go, everywhere has potential to be disastrous with you, Joon," you continue teasing.

"Rude but true. Let's make a deal. If I can go the rest of the day with breaking something, you have to go on date with me." His eyes twinkle and his dimpled smile breaks out.

"Are you sure about this?"

He falters for a second - thinking. "Okay, even if I lose, would you still go on a date with me," he asks unsure, eyes pleading.

"Yes, when you do lose, I'll still go on a date. You're really cool and I've had a great time so far." His previous dimpled smile comes, bigger than ever, and you swear his cheeks will burst.

You guys spent hours there and had lost track of time. It was possibly one of the best days of your life; happiness coursing through you as you leave. Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into a couple months, and you're still going strong with Namjoon. You've been on a couple dates since meeting but now you're officially dating; you’re glad you went to the library that day and went looking for that one book that essentially brought you two together. You guys still make a bunch of deals too, which have been crazy, scary, risque, stupid, and all around hilarious. You're sitting next to him in a quiet corner, finishing a new book when he closes it, looking at you with mischief but something else, and as he leans closer your heart stutters in your chest.

"Y/n," he whispers lowly, "let's make a deal." The low tone in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you stare, not trusting words just yet. "Whoever falls in love first has to grant the other person a wish," he grins, biting his lip.

"Oh, really,” you quirk a brow. “What's your wish," you ask, feeling a little nervous but excited with the way his eyes pierce your own.

He smirks a little bit, leaning into you, hot breath hitting your ear. "That's for me to know and you to find out."

You've grown accustomed to all the deals made between you two and you're always up for a fun challenge, besides the prospect of having him granting whatever wish - if you win, no, when you win - has your next word coming out with any hesitation. It seems whoever wins this deal doesn’t actually matter because you have a feeling you’ll both end up winning either way.

"Deal."

#bts #bts humor #bts fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts kim namjoon #kim namjoon #bts namjoon #namjoon x reader #bts fanfiction

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origetlopez · 3 years

Photo

DISCLAIMER: Triggering themes below. Content delves into issues of sexual assault and suicide. If these subject matters are unsettling for you, please please please please do not proceed with reading. Thank you. 9 Years Ago — Post Gymnastic’s Injury “Siempre serás mi hermana.” Marisol said when she started to get up from the edge of the hospital bed. Her smile had a way of shimmering brighter than light itself, and positivity radiated from her like the warmth of the sun. Even amidst the cold reality that Orianna’s future was in complete disarray, it was her little sister who gave her the slightest glimmer of hope. She was the only one thus far who consoled Ori since the accident and the surgery, or at least, attempt it. There wasn't any wonder why her sister was the jewel of the Lopez family. Her kindness shined as much as her beauty did. She was innocent and sweet, yet so incredibly brilliant in every way. She was a promising young woman in the making. Orianna never showed her twinge of jealousy about her little sister’s perfection out loud, but she admired Marisol for it as well. Especially in a time like this. Marisol was the only family member that Orianna felt close to, and her little sister praised her when no one else would. Orianna was never going to be enough for their father or mother, but she would be enough for Mari. It was her encouragement that Orianna was able to recover after her accident. She may have lost her shot at the Olympics for good, but at least she still had her little sister with her every step of the way. 6 Years Ago — Sophomore Year at USC; Night of the Party “Come on, Ori! You should come out tonight, you’re always studying!” Marisol said with a pout afterward. As if that pout would make her cute after pointing out Orianna’s lack of social interaction on the USC campus. The eldest Lopez sister turned her head in Marisol’s direction with narrowing eyes. “Don’t think for a second that pout makes you cute for saying that,” She said, continuing, “…and I go out!” Orianna defended, even if that wasn’t entirely true. Since the accident, Orianna still had a lot on her mind, including school. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be here. The only reason she enjoyed living near campus was so that she didn’t have to live at home. However, their parents were still nearby, , of course, . Their father lingering not too far to make sure his money that was spent on their education was put to good use. All this education, and for what, the hopes of getting a semi-decent job to please their father? It is not that Orianna did not want to go out, but she had a lot on her mind. Besides, she hung out with her sister’s friends a majority of the time. It was not a bad thing as the sisters were close in age. Ori had always been wrapped up in gymnastics, whereas Mari had freedom and became more of a social butterfly. As always, Marisol thrived. “So, come out tonight! You have no excuse not to!” Marisol argued, then used her cute sister charm once again as she came and wrapped her arms around her big sister’s shoulders. Clinging onto her and squeezing her tightly while adding, “Plus, I need mi hermana with me to celebrate my new single life!” On that special mention, Ori did a slight roll of her eyes. Not because she was annoyed with her sister, but because the mere mention of Marisol’s ex made her skin crawl. He was that stereotypical captain of the football team who was arrogant and controlling, yet his boyish looks and charm made most people blindsided by his true nature. He wasn’t a good guy as everyone believed him to be. Orianna saw the way she treated Marisol, and luckily, she helped get her sister out of that relationship before it went south. Still, the thought of him brought out the inner disgust in Ori before she laughed it off. “We celebrated that two nights ago. And as much as I love celebrating that fact — I also have a paper due.” That was a lie. Her paper wasn’t due for another week, but Orianna didn’t want to go out tonight. She needed an excuse, and the best way out of it was to use their father. At least that was something that Marisol couldn’t argue against. She knew how their father was, “I need to focus. Otherwise, our father will have another reason to be disappointed.” Patting her sister’s arm to let go of her, Marisol gave a sigh and another pout, only this time more defeated. Ori had won the battle against going out. “Tell me how the party is! And be safe!” Orianna emphasized one more time, getting an annoyed I will as a response. Orianna didn’t know it back then, but that was the last time she was going to see that glimmer of hope from her sister. That glowing warmth, or that sun-filled smile. The moment Marisol walked out that door, she was gone for good. Still 6 Years Ago — Post Party, Day Later “Mari! Get your ass up! You’re gonna be late!” Orianna shouted from the other side of the door. It wasn’t like her little sister be cooped up in her room for a day. Unless maybe she was sick. Even then, Marisol would put on a whole show on the couch. Making sure Orianna saw a display of her lack of wellness. Marisol also rarely missed class, and it was completely unusual. The unsettling feeling that something was wrong began to build in Ori’s stomach. At the same time, she continued to act as an older sister would in this scenario. “I’m coming in there. You better be dying or rushing to get ready!” Orianna announced as she opened the door to her sister’s room, setting eyes on her for the first time since she left for the party. Her sister was still in the same cute outfit that she wore to the party the other night. The only difference was that it looked tattered and worn. Almost like it had been through the wringer. Her makeup smeared, and she almost laid on her bed as stiff as a cold body. For a second, Ori thought she could have sworn that she wasn’t breathing if it hadn’t been for the soft choking back of tears that happened a few seconds after Orianna barged in. The look of a teasing older sister immediately fell from Ori’s face as she became scared and confused at the sight of Marisol. “Mari,” Orianna said with a rising alarm, moving to her sister’s bedside. Her hand came to the top of her head delicately. Almost afraid if she pressed too hard, she would smoosh a flower. Her other hand just barely touched Mari’s arm when her little sister shook and shivered at the feeling. Never would Orianna expect her sister to react that way to a loving touch from a family member. The reaction encouraged Orianna to continuously be gentle as she investigated what was wrong with her. “What happened?” Ori asked, and there was a distant, lost look in Mari’s eyes. It was dark in them, and they grew darker as her broken lips uttered every women's worst nightmare. 5 Years Ago — Apartment “You can’t ask me or Mari to go back there! He is still at that school! They’re sitting on their asses doing absolutely nothing while he is still winning them goddamn trophies and being their poster boy!” Orianna voiced loudly into her phone against her father as she approached the apartment door. She worried less about struggling with the bags in her hands and more about making a point to her father. “Look, Mari already dropped out. I plan to do the same—“ The moment she said those words, Ori could hear her father’s voice rising on the other end. Her mother was in the background, attempting to calm him down, but there was no use. At this point, Orianna had failed her father for the second time. Leaving school because of what happened to Marisol was not a good enough reason. Meanwhile, someone had to take care of Mari. She wasn’t herself anymore. “Cuuurrrkshhhh oh no, I think we’re breaking up! Gotta go, bye!” Orianna obnoxiously pretended that the call was being disrupted before abruptly disconnecting on them. Her frustration had the better of her, and she didn’t want to deal with her father trying to control the situation. Orianna dropped the bags near the counter and kicked closed the door. With a heavy sigh, she put her phone down on the counter. In that brief pause, Orianna heard the music playing in the background. It was just as loud and annoying as the phone call had been, and Ori needed just a moment of peace. At least to clear her head from all of the thoughts running inside of it. “Mari! I’m back ... can you turn that down, please?” She said with a heavy sigh as she started to relocate the bags to the kitchen. There was no response. “Mari! Turn it down!” She called out again when she set the bags down once more, this time on the kitchen table. She tucked her ebony hair behind her ear, starting to sort through and organize the groceries when she saw it. Another one. Social media hate, staring at her from an open laptop. Ever since Mari accused him, she received bullying messages, calling her a liar. All defending his honor and not caring how he violated her sister’s. It pissed Ori off even more than she already was. She was about to shout again when suddenly, the song that had been blasting in the background was repeating itself, leading Ori to pause. “Mari?” She called out again, this time taking her hands out of the bags completely, her head and eyes turned in the direction of the hallway leading to the bathroom where the noise was coming from. Orianna couldn’t begin to explain it. Only that at that moment, she had this unease come over her like a tidal wave. Her movements seemed so slow, worrying about what she might find again when she came across her sister this time. The vibe itself felt so off, almost eerie, as she neared the bathroom door. It was completely shut, but there was nothing but the sound of the music blasting inside. When she finally reached the door, Ori pressed her ear against the side of it to listen to other sounds apart from the music. There was nothing. No water-running, no sound of a toothbrush swishing against that perfect smile, no hairdryer-blowing against the same ebony hair. A dead silence hid in the noise. Orianna didn’t ask one more time for her sister. This time her hand, twisted the doorknob and gently pushed the door open. Marisol lay in the bathroom tub. A deep slit from the wrist and up the middle of her forearm on both arms. The red-stained water barely reached the top of the tub. Orianna went into two different modes: action and panic. First, Ori focused on getting her sister out of the bathtub. Then, trying to get her to wake up. A mix of tears and fear at the little response she was getting. At a time like that, it is hard to think about the right things to do. “Mari? Oh my god, Mari no, no.” Orianna began, her brown eyes filling with the realization of the truth in front of her before her heart and mind could comprehend it. She squeezed her sister close to her. Uncaring that her clothes were getting soaked from the red-stained water and blood pooled on the floor. Her hands tried to stop it against Marisol’s wrists, but it was no use. The reality was sinking in, and Ori was at a loss. Her head pulled up, and she started screaming for help. Not that anyone could hear her pain over the music, and by then, it was already too late. Orianna had always been too late. 5 Years Ago — Vegas Bound “Don’t blame yourself,” They said, “…you have to let it go.” Shortly after the funeral, everyone was asking Orianna when she would return to school, or life basically. For everyone else, it seemed so easy. All of their friends, minus Leti continued to carry on. He continued to succeed at school. Meanwhile, Orianna was stuck. No urge to go back. No will to continue on the hopeful path that her sister inspired her to have. Orianna wanted to get away from everything, and everyone. There was no more hope for her here. Marisol was supposed to be the promising young woman. Though within months, she was forgotten by most. Orianna didn’t want to be that. She needed to make something of herself so That is when Orianna took her sabbatical. She packed her things and moved to Las Vegas. She was twenty years old. Marisol was eighteen when she took her life. Call it survivors guilt, but if Orianna had only gone with her that night, maybe things would be different. It was up to Orianna to do something with her life. To prove her worth, to make an impact in some way, to make noise when others refused to listen and to stand for something. It wouldn’t be done perfectly, though it would be done her way. Orianna forced herself to take the leap and become stronger, not just for herself, but for Marisol too. “Siempre serás mi hermana.” Ori said one last time at her sister's gravesite before leaving for Las Vegas. She left behind a bouquet of red roses for her. It would now be Orianna's turn to become the promising young woman for the both of them.

#task3

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thevaloroushearts · 6 years

Photo

"Alyx, look, the rays...! Do you see them...?"

"Mm'yep, sure do, sis... sure do..."

Cloudy skies, lowering temperature, gentle chills blowing across the cityfolk of Altiel... the cooler seasons were arriving, meaning many citizens were bundling up and readying themselves for the holidays. Shopping, staying warm, making memories with photoshoots, families walking together... no matter the lowering temperature, there was still a sense of warmth bustling about...

"I'm not certain why, but seeing rays of light breaking through winter clouds... it's such a gentle yet inspiring sight..." the normally sheepish Gardevoir commented with a tender tint of excitement, ears lifting as she felt her artist fingers twitch her finger across an open page in her sketchbook.

“Yeah, it’s kinda pretty I guess...” Meanwhile, the pale Gallade just looked on towards the sea, his gaze seeming... disinterested...? This didn't go by Oriel unnoticed, of course...

"Brother?"

"... Yeah?"

"... Pardon me for saying so, but you seem distant... is everything alright? You've grown passive as of late..."

"Eh, well... it's just, we've been working here for a while, doing all these fights and whatnot, raising money to make our ends meet..."

"Yes...?"

"... I guess I've just been wondering..." Alyx just rubbed the back of his head as a pessimistic sigh left his lips, "Don't get me wrong, Oriel, I'm thankful we've gone this far, it's just... As psyched as I am, I was just wondering if we ever will... , or at least, if we did go to see them, if something would make things take a turn for--"

"Heeey li'l bro, hey li'l sis! What're YOU two doing out without your li'l jackets, hm? Heehee~!"

Well that was a pleasant change of pace. The twins ears shot up as they caught the wind of a very familiar doting sisterly voice, with Oriel being first to turn her neck and see their adoptive sibling Lixue hopping over ever-so-cheerfully, sipping a cold beverage.

"Ah, Lixue! Hello again!"

"Hiya hiya! Have you two been standing here this whole time? C'mon, we live in Altiel! Go walk around the city! See the sights! What's gotten my lively li'l bro Alyx and inspired li'l sis Oriel staying put like this? It's not like ya!"

"Ah! W-well, erm, we're just--"

"Catching our breath and taking in the sights for once. Day off and all, sometimes all we just need is fresh air, y'know?"

Lixue could only giggle. "I could believe Oriel saying that, but YOU needing a break, Alyx? Heehee, you have the stamina of a Mudsdale! That's just silly!"

"Erm, Lixue... where is Masou...?"

"Hm? Oh!" She stuck her tongue out as she took a sip of her lemonade before giving a little sigh. "He's just back at the League, thinking to himself as usual."

"The guy's gotta get out more... can't go isolating himself all the time, y'know? Hasn't he beaten himself up enough yet...?"

Way back at the ABL, the Hellfire Hoodlum himself was perched upon the ceiling of their fighting organization workplace, looming over the city. His own version of sight-seeing, perhaps? Akin to what a nightwatcher would do, at least. The reptile let out a steamy hiss as a whispy trail left his nostrils, gazing down at the cityfolk while allowing himself to be lost in his own thoughts.

<< Mmh... this view of the city...>> he thought to himself, tail idly swishing about as he hissed behind his collar, <<... perhaps one day I'll allow myself to actually enjoy it, once my debt is repaid... >> A disgruntled yet brooding exhale left his mouth, wanting to uncover his head to welcome the breeze, but he held himself back, as if fighting temptation, or perhaps refusing for another reason...

As his eyes wandered, he noticed far off in the distance that the vacant block of space far away from the more lively part of the city had but a few souls attending to it... an area that gave a chillingly silent vibe.

---

"..."

A somber wind howled lightly around the tall dark knight as he glanced down at his subject, as a sigh echoed within his mask and helmet.

"Two years..." he muttered to himself, "... nearly two years now... how time flies..."

Zarathos remained still, unmoving not unlike a statue, as his thoughts continued to escape him...

" ... To think, had I not allowed something so... primal... so arrogant..."

The rest of those would-be words died in his throat, replacing the remnants with harsh mumbles. At a loss for what else to say, Zarathos pledged a hand powerfully to his chest, letting out an adamant snarl.

" ... rest well, soldier..."

Unbeknownst to the Bisharp, at least yet, there were two other Altiel citizens that happened to walk by the entry to this somber field, looking on at the terrifyingly tall warrior from a safe distance.

"... Erm, how long do you think he's been there...?" a soft, concerned male Bisharp's voice uttered to the other.

"Ah, that I cannot say, mein Freund..." retorted the girl, holding a hand up to her mouth. "I... try to avoid areas such as these, yet seeing him here all by myself makes me wonder..."

"I agree, it's a somber place, but the fact that the Champion is all the way from the Battle League, here, all alone...?"

"Pardon me, but what are you two unlikely onlookers doing?"

"GCK--!" "ACK--!"

Takeshi and Eira nearly leaped at the sound of being addressed from behind, the Medicham behind the both of them merely chuckling in amusement. Adjusting his glasses, he continued to prod.

"Are the two of you here to spy our notorious battle-reigning brood? My my, how unusually rude of you two! Even the champion can't get a moment of peace during such glum displays of consciousness. I highly doubt you two came to merely stare at the dead from a long distance?"

"O-oh! I was just, er, fetching supplies for the Kirikuisine! Food supplies!"

"And I was, er, making my way to the Blue Moon Cafe!"

"The Blue Moon Cafe is not this many blocks away from the ABL, madame. And why come here when the food supermarket provides superior ingredients in the other direction for your quaint little foodshop?"

Just before the two could answer, they felt a burning glare pierce them from the distance.

" ... How long have you been there?" snarled the champion at his unwelcome 'audience.'

Needless to say, Takeshi and Eira were quick to make their ways away, but not before awkwardly waving to Zarathos and then each other.

"T-to the food market with me! Ahaha, farewell!"

"Oh of course! Take care, Takeshi!"

The Medicham just rolled his eyes and shook his head, raising a hand peaceably at the dark champion before walking off. <<Very well, leaving him to his charmingly depressing payment of respects is fair enough I suppose... my curiosity would only be squandered in a place such as this.>>

---

" ... I'm sure he'll be alright~!" Lixue remarked before sidling up to her adoptive siblings, tilting her head with a cute smile. "C'mon, cheer up Alyx! Masou does enough frowning for the rest of us, you don't have to stay so quiet! C'mon, let's see a smile," insisted the icy Lucaritales before hugging her adoptive Gallade brother.

"Nnh, Li, please--"

And then Alyx's blood sister joined, smiling up at the bladed brawler in hopes he would listen to the words of Lixue. Al could only sigh and give off an awkward grin.

"C-c'mon Oriel, Lixue, you're embarrassing me out here..."

"Heehee, you're beyond embarrassment at this age, Alyx!"

"There's that smile..." Oriel chimed with a little giggle. “How ironic, is it not? You’re usually the one who consoles me...”

"Hah, alright alright, ya win. I've just been thinking a lot that's all, but I guess I'll spend more time seein' sights as usual.”

"Yee~! There we go! Great idea! Let's walk around Altiel together!"

"I-If you're alright with that, Alyx...?"

"... Heh... sure, why not."

---

(( The Valorous Hearts is back! This is a soft boot; a continuation from the older archive blog, with some tweaks to designs, stories, motives and other details! Most relationships, unless desired otherwise, will remain canon, but some have been redone/adjusted! Some questions can be re-asked, feel free to ask which ones! ))

#gallade #gardevoir #lucario #bisharp #scrafty #togekiss #medicham #alyxgallae #orielgardevoir #lixuelucario #masouscrafty #zarathosbisharp #takeshibisharp #eiragardekiss #vihaanmedicham

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cherryplasmids · 7 years

Text

☆ promises ☆

pairing: jaime lannister x reader fandom: game of thrones prompt: confessions are whispered and promises are made during a time of war. notes: character death

—check out my other works; masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The air was thick with smoke, accompanied by the potent odor of copper and wood. Suffocating gray clouds wafted through the air, halting breathing processes and blinding directional senses. Adding to the morbid display was the screams and wails grown men were releasing.

Excruciating sensations shot throughout your body, diluting your ability to concentrate on the central injured area, but you presumed it would be several places that were damaged. You stared at the sky, no solid coherent thought being processed properly. You wish you could see the blue sky since it originally had been a beautiful day, but the layer of fog was too overwhelming for the sunlight to shine through. It was another factor that dampened the entire day.

“Y/N!” A voice yelled out for you, a heavy amount of worry and panic coating their usual tone.

Jaime. And despite all the pain that increased by every passing moment, a gigantic smile plastered on your lips. The man you loved was looking for you. Now all you thoughts became about him. You thought of his gold armor that matched his short, blonde locks. Azure eyes that conveyed numerous emotions, the one most familiar to you being full of love. And most of all, your mind played back were the loving words he whispered into your ear before, during, and after a night full of passion.

And you began recalling the fondest moments shared. From the time you and him cliff dived to playing tricks on Tyrion for the first time you and he deflowered each other. So many memories flashed through your mind, making you emotional and desperately praying this was a nightmare the Gods have engineered in order to punish you for the sins you’ve committed.

“Y/N,” Jaime spoke softly, dropping to his knees next to your semi-paralyzed body. His eyes wandered over your figure, drinking in every detail that was displayed. You were blanketed in a thin layer of soot and grime that would only build up as time went on. Your once braided hair was loosened and matted against the right side of your face, glued on by your own blood. And your soft skin― the organ Jaime spent many nights fondly tracing patterns on― was charred, burnt by flames the white-haired heathen had cast.

“Jaime,” You gritted out, pain shooting through you as you spoke the two syllable name that you loved with all, your heart. “Are you okay?”

Incredulous, he shook his head, letting out a shaky chuckle. “You’ve been burned alive and yet, you ask me if I am okay. You never cease to amaze me, love.” He saw your wide eyes still questioning him, searching for a serious answer. “Physically, I am fine. But I will not be mentally correct until you are healed. Once we win this little bout, we’ll hurry back to Maester Qyburn who will fix you up as good as new.”

You wanted to shake your head at his words, but it was made difficult due to the gash on your neck. Noticing this, Jaime ripped a piece of his cloak and wrapped it tightly around your neck but loose enough to keep you comfortable. “No, I don’t think that’s a possibility, my love.”

Angered flared up, mixing with the increasing grief Jaime was feeling. “I don’t recall you being a quitter.”

Jaime was expecting you to retort with a sarcastic remark or insult ― it would be a glimpse of hope because it would let him know you were going to make it. Instead, tears sneakily fell down, stinging the cuts and charred flesh on your face.

“Words cannot describe how much I adore you. It’s impossible to express what you mean to me because Jaime Lannister you are too beautiful for this world.” You coughed violently, spitting up blood that dotted his ashen face. He did nothing to wipe it off in fear of ruining the moment. His attention was solely on you, despite the raging fires that instigated chaos.

“No one deserves you―not the seven kingdoms, not the king or queens guard, not your sister, and certainly not me. But somehow in this miserable ridden world, I found myself grasped in your arms with the promise of us against the world.” Another bout of coughing issued, hacking up even more blood. Your hand subconsciously tightening around Jaime’s cold, metal hand. In return, his warm flesh one tenderly caressed your dirty cheek.

“Love,” Jaime whispered, choking back a sob.

It was such a terrible time to profess such things. The Targaryen claimant of the Seven Kingdoms along with her Dothraki savages and largest dragon commenced a surprise attack on the already thinning Lannister/Tarley army. Thus, an abundance of men perished in fires or died fighting with crucial food stock being burned in the process. Being the leader of the armies, Jaime should have been commanding the leftover troops, instructing them on what the battle plans are. However, he was beside you, attempting to ten to your ample wounds that increasingly made him anxious. Although you felt terrible for taking away his attention from the real issue, there was an enormous part of you that swelled with joy.

“Oh fuck,” You uttered, breath hitched as you stared at Jaime’s pure blue eyes.”I knew once we won the war and peace would cloak the Seven Kingdoms, you would renounce your position as a Kingsguard and make Casterly Rock our home.” You watched his nod his head, agreeing with your words. He had expressed his desires to wed you and eventually impregnate you because he genuinely wanted to start afresh. And even though he knew all his murders and incestuous behaviors could never disappear ― he knew for certain that it would be a better life he left it behind. He would do it for you because you were his future.

You let out a sob that Jamie confused with a cough, so he gently moved your head to his lap in order to prevent choking. “In my purse, there is a box, whatever you find is yours.”

Jaime looks to your side, where your other hand had the red silk pouch clutched. He remembered giving that to you around two years ago, the color and accented gold matching the Lannister colors. It was a gift for your name day and you carried it everywhere you went, never leaving it behind. And every single time he saw you with it, his lips would turn up in a serene smile.

Softly tugging the pouch out of your grasp, he opened it up and placed his real limb in it, shifting around to find something. But there was only one thing. Pulling the object out, it was a box which sported House Lannister colors, identical to the pouch itself. The softness of the velvet smoothed underneath his flesh. He glanced at you, waiting for any sign of rebuttal, but all you did was nod at him which gave him the ‘okay’ to do it. With slight eager, he removed the top and saw a ring embedded in more velvet.

It was a simple gold band without many intricate detailing. It appeared rather unisex. The shine was long gone, replaced by dull sheen and the material was moderately flimsy. Jaime’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his eyes darting to meet yours in a questioning look.

“My family never married noble Houses or rarely married vessels. We never had the fortune of purchasing the finest gold or the rarest gems, or lavish clothing. Most of what we had were handcrafted.” You had to stop talking, breathing for a moment in order to regain your minuscule strength to speak. It was taking a toll on you, each syllable hurting more than the last. However, no pain in the world would stop you from expressing your words to Jaime. “Supposedly my great, great-grandmother was excellent at crafting anything. So one day she decides to create a ring, the family heirloom that would be worthless to anyone, except her poor family. And before she was brutally murder by the Mad King himself, she handed it down to her daughter. And the tradition was thoroughly carried out. I had to wait until I bled to get that. I waited so long to be apart of my family’s history. I intended to pass it down like my ancestors had once done. But my story ends here, daughterless.”

A few more tears fell from your eyes, mourning the loss of a daughter you never had. Jaime caressed your hair, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your crying eyes. You sniffled before continuing. “I might not have a child but I have you, my beloved who loved me despite my lacking wealth. Who was by my side no matter the situation. I want you to take the ring. Promise to honor my family before another tyrant attempts to destroy it.”

Jaime could feel the butterflies within his stomach flap their wings immeasurably quick. He slips the ring onto the proper digit on his left hand. He gazes at it in awe, his heart thudding in happiness. “Perhaps she had a talent at crafting or maybe we were fated for each other.”

A laugh emitted from your lips but you never replied. You simply stared at the sky in silence, allowing Jamie to mull over his impending loss. The pain was stabbing furiously as he noticed the light dying from your eyes. He pressed a hurried kiss to your bloody lips, his lips mingling with yours in a familiar stance despite the blood and tears. He sluggishly pulled away, opting to stare into your eyes. It was so intense, it made your body shiver with pleasure. It appeared as if he could see your entire existence all at once.

“I have committed many heinous crimes that do not deserve forgiveness. But one thing that can be deemed heroic is wholeheartedly loving you for all your worth.” He spoke in a low whisper, pausing after to reorganize his frenzied thoughts. He wanted the right words to pour out of his mouth like beautiful sonnets one could only dream of speaking but to no avail. There were no words that could ever describe how he felt.

There was no way to describe the beauty you exuded without trying. How the smile you reserved just for him made him tingle in all the right places. No one in the world would be able to match the cute morning voice you had. It would be impossible to illustrate your perfect body, the sensual moans you never hid, or the way your legs would sway after passionate love making. How would anyone be able to document your intelligence or your quick-witted remarks? Your personality was the rarest gem of them all and it would soon be extinct.

Before he could utter another word, he saw it. The way your mouth parted and your eyes widened gave him the signal. It would be only minutes until death took you.

The worst pain you ever felt and imagined hit you so hard it made you breathless. And contrary to popular belief, childbirth or any physical wound did not cause it. You saw the light dwindle steadily, striking your heart in repeated blows as color begin to fade from your vision. It made you cry out in both anguish and frustration. Death had come to collect you far too early for your liking. You had so much to say to Jaime, to reassure him that he will be fine without you, but time was not on your side.

“Even though I promised you it would be us against the world, it seems it is meant to be broken. Be strong for the both of us and win this war. Promise me you’ll kill that Targaryen whore before she takes anything else from you.” You took a deep breath. Regardless of your struggle to speak the words, there was heavy adoration as in your voice as you continued. “I love you Jaime Lannister, more than the Gods can measure.”

And with that, you took your final breath.

────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 2,039 published: aug 10, 2017 edited: n/a

#jaime lannister #jaime lanniser x reader #jaime x reader #angst #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #jaime lannister imagine #house lannister #season 7 #promises #death #dragonglassx

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