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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months

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London Will Burn - Chapter Thirteen.

Because we're not far from the end of the story now, guys, posting will go down to just once a week. It gives a few of you time to catch up, too :) big thanks to all of you who've interacted with it. I appreciate you so much!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,080

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

Rin thought she would never forget it, the sublimity of what it felt like to be at the mercy of Sean’s sexual talents. As he mapped her body in kisses and licks, though, she truly realised there was nothing like the real thing to serve as a refresher for her memory. It had been her strongest vow since reconnecting with him, that she would never again allow herself to fall into bed with the man who had done her so wrong, no matter how right it felt when she was with him.

Her hungover brain was not in agreement with this pledge. Especially when those divine kisses finally landed upon her apex. God in heaven... no man before, and no man since could ever compare to what Sean Wallace could do with his tongue. He pushed the duvet back off of them, his hands moving over her curves as he laid long licks over her clit, eyes finding hers as she sighed in bliss, moving fluidly against him.

The heat of his mouth had her gleaming as he laved at her once again, the nectar of her cunt saturating his tongue. His heartbeat quickened, skin tingling as little wells of contentment poured through him, under the spell of her once again with such effortless ease. She moaned, a seraphim’s symphony to his ears, a summer sonnet of lust, thumbing her clit to gently drag the hood back, the tip of his tongue tracing tight circles, the song of her arousal filling his ears again.

Pleasure draped over her like the swathe of silk, each flicker of his tongue making her arousal bloom, like summer flowers kissed by the first sun, awakened and reaching towards the light. Each lick was an ember ignited, heat winding and coiling low in her, his breath a hot tempest as his hands stroked over the soft round of her tummy, fingertips flexing as they breeched her cunt and drove the simmer through her.

Her panting escalated, her lips parting on a soft cry. “Sean, please, I need...” Her words were cut short by the pull of his lips sucking upon her, the tip of his tongue pushing against her clit, increasing the pressure as she keened against him, her nails flexing against his shoulders. “Yes, like that, just like that!”

He peered up at her, cheeks hollowed, moaning low in his throat, the vibrations from such only adding to the bonfire of ecstasy that crackled up her spine. The burn of pleasure settled low within her, her soft thighs writhing against his face as his eyes shone azure, his cock throbbing with the need to fill her. He desired nothing more, but allowed her to ride out the burn of her orgasm against his tongue, flattening it to her clit and circling hard until she was there, her hands fisting the sheets as she cried out, a nirvana surging through her veins as she came hard.

Her body was turned in the aftermath, Rin still breathless as she was pulled to her knees, his cock sinking into her inch by inch until he’d filled her, his low groan like thunder as she flexed upon him. Each roll of his hips against her buried him forth again and again, little flint strikes quickly catching upon his edges, the burn warming him to his very bones.

His cock was shiny with the gloss of her, Sean closing his eyes tightly, willing himself not to lose control. He wanted to enjoy it, before one or both of them came to their senses. Sex with no clear terms would truly only complicate their already volatile relationship even further, but yet of course, attraction didn’t work that way.

Rooting himself balls deep into the hot clutch of her cunt had him mindless, her soft whimpers adding to the erotic fog that blinded him, hands clutched tightly at her narrow waist. For Rin, she buried the voice that pleaded in protest how much of a bad idea this was, her greed for the all-consuming pleasure of Sean inside her again eclipsing it, heat striking at the base of her spine and skittering over her nerves.

The coil within began to wind tighter the more he sped up, the contained giving way to unfettered vigour, until the bed shook beneath them, her cries rending the air as she tightened around him.

“Fuck yes, make me come again, oh god!”

Her demand was met flawlessly, the sparks glimmering until she caught fire around him, burned to ashes, Sean slipping from her and turning her onto her back. He levered her leg forward, plunging into her again, his mouth meeting hers in kisses dripping in honey and sin. He fucked her with merciless finesse, pounding her body into the bed as the lightning danced beneath his skin, muscles cording, his groan all gravel as he spilled into her, left trembling in the wake of it.

“Well,” he panted, pulling from her to sit on the edge of the bed, “that cleared my hangover nicely.”

It was awkward as hell, and they both knew it, succumbing to one another again when truly, things were only so newly balanced upon even keel. “I’m going for a shower.” He gave her a fleeting smile, moving from the room, Rin throwing herself out of bed and into her clothes, her brain hardwired into full-blown panic mode.

“I have an early meeting, so I’ve got to be off. I’ll erm, I’ll call you about Tiger,” she called through the partially ajar bathroom door.

“Alright. I suppose I shall see you at that benefit for your wildlife reserve on Saturday though, shan’t I?”

Fuck. Only two days of space between the reckless events and seeing him once more. Cringe, cringe, cringe. “Yeah, you will. I’ll see myself out.”

“No problem.”

Oh, but it was a bloody problem, Rin swiping through her phone until she came to the Uber app, not wanting to wait the forty plus minutes it would take for her driver to reach Canary Wharf at ten past eight of a morning. There was a cab just two minutes away, and by the time she had booked it, the dark blue Toyota was sitting waiting for her outside of Sean’s building, Rin diving in and finally feeling her chest unclench as he drove her away.

Due to the insane amount of morning traffic surging through the city, she didn’t actually make it back to Mulford hall until 9:40am, entering the house and heading straight upstairs for a shower. Her mum would likely have seen to taking Tiger to school, unless the child had demanded Sokoro ferry her over. That very man was present in the kitchen when she arrived there, fresh and dressed in a soft, black lounge suit, Silas at his side as they sat at the island drinking coffee.

“I think they call it the walk of shame in English, eh?”

“Fuck off.” Her words had the men roaring, Rin pouring herself a coffee and joining them. “I’m too delicate for jokes. Bloody hell, I need paracetamol. My head.”

“It was a good night, boss, yes?” Sokoro asked, his face a picture of mirth.

She winced, moving again to the cupboard where she knew there was a stash of medicines, shuffling a few boxes of Calpol and other such items to locate the little white pills her pounding head so desperately required. “Yes, it was a good night. Sort of.”

The men exchanged looks. “It must have been, eh, for you have big love bite on your neck.”

Fuck.

“You have one night stand, huh boss?” Silas asked, shaking with the laughter he was trying to keep in. “You go seek a little horizonal refreshment!”

She couldn’t help but snort with laughter, shaking her head as she took her painkillers. “Shut up.”

“Why? There is no shame in it. You are young, free and single, after all. Unless of course, the man was, how to say... you wake up and see he has face like a dog’s arsehole.”

Her laughter continued, her Kenyan friends chuckling away as she squirmed. “No, he definitely did not. I perhaps shouldn’t have had sex with him though. Twice.”

“Why?” Sokoro asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because of who he was.”

“Ahh, I see. And who was he?”

Yes, they were wheedling. Very purposefully, as her reveal would show. “Sean.”

“God damnit!” Silas moaned, immediately reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, pulling out five crisp twenty-pound notes and slapping them down upon the white marble, Sokoro taking them with glee.

“Thank you very much!”

Rin was aghast. “You two bloody had a bet on me?”

Sokoro beamed. “We did. I said that it would be within the first six months of us going to rescue him that you would tumble back into bed together, eh, after witnessing the chemistry you and – how your mother call him – the ginger twat have, yes. And I was right!”

“Pair of fucking bastards.” Her admonishment was followed by resting her head down, feeling a hand press to her shoulder, looking up into Silas’s dark eyes.

“At least do not hate me so much, boss. I said never again. I had faith in you, and look at this now! You broke my faith and lost me a hundred quid, you and your rampant lady parts!”

“Shut up.” Her continued chagrin only prompted them to tease more, but at least Silas had the grace to get up and make her his breakfast special while he went about it. Fried dough balls spiced with cardamon were one of her favourite Kenyan delicacies, and Silas made them perfectly, finishing the vitumbua as they were known with a drizzle of honey and some ground pistachio nuts, his own twist on the breakfast staple.

Once she was finished eating, there was only one meeting she had to attend later that afternoon, tying up the mess the Nigerian gang had left, meeting with the new head to clearly relay her terms moving forward. She then had a full two days to panic about seeing Sean again at her benefit dinner, somewhat peculiar for her since Catherine Cavanagh and panicking rarely went hand in hand.

She had her father’s confidence and her mother’s poise, pragmatic and rational in her thinking, but as the hours ticked by, her heart would somersault with nerves whenever she remembered. Even more so that she was taking a date with her, knowing Sean’s reaction would likely be, well, salty, to say the least.

Rin knew as she sat having her hair and makeup done by her glam team that Saturday afternoon that the father of her child would undoubtedly think her taking somebody else to be a deliberate dig at him, after their shared late night and early morning of hot sex. Of course, the date with an investor's son, Jonathan North had been arranged well in advance, but she could well predict that Sean would take it personally as swipe toward him.

He did not disappoint.

“Catherine, you look radiant,” Ed greeted her with, standing from the table upon her arrival and kissing her cheek, gentlemanly as ever.

“Thank you, Ed. Very dapper yourself, too.” she spoke, moving to greet Shannon with a double cheek kiss. She was about to at least go and say hello to Sean, but the face she was met with showed his hostility with abundance. She smiled nonetheless.

His face didn’t move from the flared nostrils and clenched jaw seethe he viewed her with.

The event itself went flawlessly, everyone enjoying themselves, Rin standing to deliver a speech as images of the animals at the reserve were beamed up onto a projected screen behind her, the wealthiest of London’s elite enamoured by her as well as her cause.

The only thing that truly bothered her that night was after the dinner, when the tables were cleared and room made for people to dance upon the polished floor, others congregating at the sidelines to schmooze and talk business, was the fact the man she had arrived with was duller than a wet weekend in Glasgow.

“So, I said to the chap, look, if your sales are not meeting the initial projections in the final quarter for the fiscal year then I surely am not going to find your proposal and attractive one, no matter how much Bollinger you ply me with!” Jonathan chuckled, Rin fixing a fake smile to her face, all the while being able to feel a glare upon her from a man who, surprisingly, was socialising with Ed and his daughter. “Just nipping outside for a cigar, back in a jiff.”

He could have left for all she cared, Rin turning to take a glass of champagne from a passing member of the serving staff, sighing.

“Tell me, Catherine.” That posh drawl sent the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end immediately, as did the very feel of him standing right behind her. “Did you bring a plus one purely to make me jealous, or do you actually enjoy spending time with such a monotoned dullard?”

She smirked, turning to him. “Not everything is about you, Sean. My date was arranged weeks in advance of the event, so well before...”

“Well before I fucked you so damned thoroughly, you had to have me twice in the space of eight hours, hmm?” he cut in with.

Cocky bastard. “I believe you instigated it the second time.”

“You didn’t exactly refuse me, though.” They stared one another down, the air seeming to thicken all around them, Sean leaning close to her ear. “If you want me to instigate it again, you’ve merely to say the word.”

Licking her lip, she let him wait on it, nearing him in a deliberate move so that her breasts brushed his chest before veering off. “Lady Shand! How lovely to see you!” she then called, moving to shake hands with a very old, very wealthy looking woman who approached, leaving him burning. Oh no, he would not presume himself to be so irresistible that he could proposition her at any given moment.

Equally, though, Sean would not take her rebuff lying down. Not after seeing the way her lust for him had danced in her eyes.

As she moved from guest to guest, his gaze barely left her, catching her eye every so often. The look he gave her could buckle the knees of a the most hardened of women.

And god, how she wanted the burn of that cool blue stare to light her up.

“That chap over there, the redhead,” Jonathan began a while later, nodding in Sean’s direction. “An admirer of yours, perhaps?”

Rin dared to look directly at him, swallowing hard, trying not to let it show, how even with just one look, Sean Wallace could erode her resolve until it fractured into pieces. “Something like that.”

He snorted, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Can’t he see that the lady is already spoken for?”

Turning, she shrugged off his arm, giving him an incredulous stare. “Spoken for? You are my guest here, this the first time we have ever been out together. I think that spoken for is a somewhat presumptuous term, don’t you?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, “I had thought the night to be going rather well.” Her eye roll told him much to the contrary.

Just then, her attention was caught by a couple more guests, Rin excusing herself and happily walking away. She was delighted to hear that the social climbers she spoke with were very generously going to donate to her reserve, with the kind of sum that would surely leave them up by a few rungs upon the ladder they so wished to climb, Rin thanking them graciously before she made her way to the bar.

“Large vodka rocks, please.” The barman had her furnished in no time, Rin downing the contents, requesting another immediately. She felt a body arrive behind hers as the fresh glass was placed before her, praying it wasn’t Jonathan.

“He won’t, you know.”

She closed her eyes, sipping her drink. “Won’t what?”

“He won’t give you what you thrive upon. He won’t hold you down by the neck while he fucks you rough, won’t suck on your pretty little cunt until you burn incandescent with orgasm, won’t tell you how much of a dirty girl you are whilst making you feel like the most insanely sexual creature upon earth. He won’t satisfy any of your cravings, Catherine.” His hand skimmed her bare back, lips tickling her ear. “But I will.”

God, how she knew he would.

“All you have to do is say the word.”

The arrogance! But oh, the fucking pull of that cocksure confidence. “I shan’t. Not for any other reason than to show you I am not as easy as you assume me to be.”

Sinking her drink, she departed in the direction of the bathrooms, Sean waiting a beat before following her. A narrow corridor took her down to the ladies, feeling a tingle at her back halfway down the confined space, a hand on her shoulder halting her. “Sean, no.” She knew it was him before she’d even turned.

“I do not assume you to be easy at all,” he spoke, closing the space between them.

“No?” she questioned, lifting her chin in defiance.

“No.” He moved to her, kissing the side of her neck, feeling her pulse flutter against his lips. “Just the most impossibly fucking beautiful woman I have ever bloody laid eyes upon.” His kisses continued, arms snaking around her, fingertips brushing over the rounds of her bum. “Give in. You know you desire nothing more. Also, there’s just one more thing that the dullard will never do for you either, that I think you should know.”

Her face was pained, sighing as she wetted her lips with a fast flick. “What?”

“He’ll never look at you like I do. For he knows not what he truly has.”

That erosion? He had worn her down to mere grains, no longer anything solid or tangible for her to use as a blockade between her sense of reason, and the lust she harboured for the man whose mouth she met with furious hunger.

In that moment, she didn’t care that he well knew it either. All she cared about was the feel of his body pressing hard up against hers.

#sean wallace fanfiction #sean wallace smut #sean wallace x ofc #gangs of london fanfiction #gangs of london #gangs of london fanfic #gangs of london fic #joe cole #sean wallace fanfic #sean wallace fic #london will burn #sean and rin

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kingmaker-a · 1 year

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Ungesewen | Gahyeon

Fantasy AU

Detective!Reader x Magical Thief Gahyeon

Main Cast: Gahyeon and San

Warnings: Slight horror vibes, mentions of blood and slight gore. Blood magic but no character death you're welcome.

Word Count: 3.8K

Genre: Slight Horror, Fantasy, Fluff with slight hurt and comfort vibes.

Premise: Moving to a vastly different city is difficult in it's own right, somehow it's made jarringly difficult by the arrival of your long time rival and nemesis.

A/N: Alright, here's an original fantasy universe AU, made by yours truly and one of the few times I've managed to get a fic done before a deadline. There might be another couple more fics in this universe if there's enough interest no promises though.

Lethargy siphons at your soul with the crawling nausea of a slug nestled in the back of your skull.

It throbs at the back of your skull, a beckoning whisper to return to the woollen clutch of your bed.

It was rare to have such extravagant accommodation.

Your fingers trail through silk satin sheets, a foreign comfort.

It scratches through your tired mind, an unsettlingly eerie edge, it creaks through your bones and drips into every tired ounce of your body.

Still, you fight off whatever dying vestige of sleep your body could muster.

A question hangs thick in the air, silent and everclear.

What had stirred you from your malformed slumber.

Only darkness greets you as your eyes stumble to life, not a single sound dances through the air.

A simple must, you reasoned to San. Volker City’s more… celebrative nature wasn’t conducive to your work or rest.

Yet, lost in the void it’s unnerving and haunting, your fingers stumble, lost in the dark. Your brain lingers with your worst thoughts against unfamiliar wood, a hand jutting against yours.

You shiver with the tho-

A thud, akin to a fish on dry land, desperate and dying.

Your hand grasps a polished steel valve, a gritted twist and it obeys.

The soft incandescent bloom of gaslight crackles to life, an emerald haze unique to Volker City.

So too was gaslight.

A thud echoes once again, like the shambling desperation of a corpse.

The sickly green haze only heightens the anxious tension that crawls in your skin.

You stumble through your unfamiliar accommodation, battling the edge of sleep.

Or perhaps this was a nightmare?

Hopefully one you would still wake from.

Still the short hall seems to stretch and warp with each step. The green haze obscured more than it revealed.

Gaslight, well and truly.

The wooden floors creak and buckle ever so woefully as you reach the kitchen, a knife glimmers in the emerald glare on top of the counter.

A gripped precaution as your eyes scan past the windows.

A fog rolls through the streets, heavy and dark, made all the more unsettling with the unnatural green edge of gaslight.

It grips deep at your heart with a foreboding clutch.

Another, softer yet desperate thud rings against the front door, the sound of nails digging deep into the fine wood.

The scratching grates and bleeds at your ear, your hands tremble with a shake, a tremor.

Fear was not something you often felt.

Your hand tightens against the knife in your palm, hidden from view as courage slowly comes to a boil in your throat.

Still your hand moves with the slightest trembles as you turn the cold cast iron knob.

It rattles and clicks with an aged warp, almost begging you to relent in your mission.

Slowly, the door aches and creeks open, you hear a choked sputtering breath, like a man drowning on the shore.

That's when you see it.

Blood.

So much blood, even in the light of emerald embers it pools all the same.

Your knife clatters to the floor.

That's when you see her, truly for the first time. Not as a faint apparition or a shimmer in the air.

You see her soft doe eyes marred with pain, blood matts her short black hair, staining her clothes and now you as you pull her into your embrace.

Words play at her decadent lips, choked by blood.

"I'm… Sorry, Spector." Her voice is weak, rubbed raw with pain. She smiles at your nickname, she never would call you by your title.

"I didn't know where else to go." Her hand trails across your cheek, bloodstained and cold.

She flickers under your gaze, like the dying embers of a flame or the mirage of an oasis.

There's a soft almost bittersweet smile on her face as your hand caresses her cheek, "I see you Ungesewen."

Lee Gahyeon, The Unseen.

Ungesewen, The Unseen, a rival, a nemesis.

For many years you never had a face to match the name, an elusive thief with nothing but a title.

A thought you contemplate over a drink, at San’s behest.

It wasn’t often something or someone would manage to elude you for so long, after all with the exclusion of the church, the royal family and some rare individuals. You were all people of the earth and soil.

Predictable and human.

Yet, there lay naught but a spec or trace of a crime, missing art, artefacts and warrants the only mark of a crime having even occurred.

“Still thinking of Ungesewen?” His fingers ply and tug at the sleeves of his poet shirt, Volker city fashion was certainly… romantic.

You offer a soft nod, your finger trails the edge of your glass. The table shudders ever so slightly.

Turbulence no doubt.

It would take you many years to get used to airship travel.

He smiles ever so briefly, illuminated by the amber warmth of candle light, “don’t worry about old burdens friend.”

Still, your hand rubs at your temples, a beleaguered sigh.

He grabs the shared decanter, the shimmering crystalline prison of alcoholic indulgence.

Your eyes linger on oceans of amber; whiskey. A far cry from the wines of Vangeal.

He pulls at the stopper pouring you both another drink.

“Not many people get a new start in Volker City,” the pit of exuberance and technology.

“Not many Vangals abandon the holy city to become a Volker,” a pointed jab nestled between splashes of liquor down your throat. “Let alone join a Malcon family.”

Your brain stained with stupor lingers on him as he preens with a certain pride.

However his smile falters when the candlelit flame flickers and then blooms into an emerald green.

A scowl almost settles on to his lips.

“Duty calls,” his hands fumble through his coat pockets passing you a piece of paper. His eyes linger on the decanter. “Finish it for the both of us.”

Your fingers dance over the piece of paper, “what’s this?”

A chuckle rumbles through his lips, mirth dances with an emerald glint. “Your address my dear Inspector.”

He rises from his seat, “We’ll reach the port within the hour, please try not to stick out like a sore thumb.”

All you can offer is a wry smirk and roll of your eyes, “whatever you say Mr Malcon.”

The port feels little more than a ship on the ocean, your feet dance and wobble underneath your weight.

Too much whiskey drunk looking over old notes.

Your eyes barely adjust to the emerald city, burning with an intense glare, you stumble onto brick roads, a contrast to the dirt roads you grew up with.

Yet everything remains foreign to you, the parchment San passed you meant nothing. A problem made worse with the slightest roll of fog.

Still, you stumble through unfamiliar streets, hoping, praying for some form of signage. Cheers and decadent parties ring through the air, with the roll of horse drawn carriages.

Music saunters through the air, unfamiliar to your Vangal ears. Wind instruments you assume, it clicks slowly through your brain.

Jazz, that’s what San called it.

It was mellow and… groovy?

An odd yet comforting fit against your detective like profession, an odd feeling to explain.

Wind sails from your chest as you stumble into something, a robust brick wall? Your back meets brick, solid and painful.

You miss the old dirt roads of home.

Rain trickles slowly through the air, a soft mellow dance against your skin. Soothing compared to the alcoholic heat that flushed your veins.

You catch the outline of someone, hazy and blurry. Perhaps due to your own inebriated state and the fog.

“Sorry,” you mumble dusting yourself off, your eyes linger on parchment.

Directions.

Only now, can you make out the outline in slightly finer detail, a young woman with a short bob of hair.

“Excuse me Miss?”

She turns to you, her face is the glimmer of a blur, you feel it rather than see it.

The lingering edge of confusion, the way her head tilts to the side confirms it. Her head shuffles around the vicinity, looking for anyone else you were trying to talk to.

“I hate to be such a bother, but could you kindly help me with some directions,” you offer the parchment to her.

She stiffens suddenly before she takes it, there’s a soft nod. You feel the swell of a smile.

Or at least you hoped.

“Follow me Inspector,” there’s an edge that sticks out to you, prickles at the base of your mind.

Your feet wobble underneath you as you stumble, you expect a face full of dirt… though you guess in this case brick and blood would be the painful alternative.

Soft hands catch you with their embrace, your hands catch against leather.

“Is this how you come on to a lady?” she remarks, still her voice carries a lot of her expression, teasing bite, a lick of a smile.

“My apologies, Miss…”

“Lee, Gahyeon Lee.” You feel her sweltering warm gaze against your skin, suddenly you realise how much time you spend on work. The soft tender embrace blossoms soft nervous kisses against your skin.

San did say you needed to get out more.

“Sorry Mis-”

“Gahyeon is just fine,” She pulls you closer, hoisting your arm over her shoulder. The close proximity sets your heart a light unlike any other.

A rare nervous edge ticks away at your heart.

She practically walks for the two of you. “What brings you to Volker City?”

Your eyebrows shift with surprise, did you make it that obvious?

“Work?”

Probably your need for directions.

There’s a soft chuckle against her lips, “I see, I see. Though I find it interesting to see a Vangal Inspector so far from home.”

Rain trickles against your brown leather coat, a gift from San.

The latest in fashion he said.

You were just glad it did well in the rain.

“I’m surprised you can tell I’m from Vangal.”

You can feel her smile at your words, hoisting you through each step.

She’s surprisingly strong.

“No one quite makes the lost dog look like a Vangal…” You feel her eyes shift over you. “Plus, the Red Flowers don’t come to the Emerald city.”

Still there’s a weird hesitation that you can barely make out in her face, the slow fade of liquor from your veins helps ever so slightly.

“Tell me about yourself Gahyeon.”

She scoffs, almost surprised by the question. “How about a deal?”

“You have certainly piqued my interest Miss Gahyeon? Is this how the denizens of Volker City operate?”

She smiles, “only the interesting ones.”

“Very well, I shall oblige. What are the arrangements?”

“A question for a question, an equal exchange is all I ask.”

A smile bristles at your lips, “I expected something a bit more cutthroat.”

“Maybe I just like you?”

Your heart stumbles in your chest, still your voice holds firm for better or for worse. “Very well, Miss Gahyeon, since I’m a guest in your homeland you may go first.”

Her strides become shorter, pace slowing to a crawl as she thinks.

“Hm? What’s the case that’s stuck with you the most?”

Your teeth grind against your tongue at the thought, a scowl settling on your lips.

You feel the briefest chuckle bounce through her chest and into her throat, “that bad huh?”

Your voice seethes against your teeth. Yeah… But it’d have to be a string of burglaries.”

“Huh, you seemed like a murder mystery type of person.”

You scoff slightly. “Murder carries a high price that few are willing to actually pay.”

That had a motive at least.

“Why a string of burglaries though?”

A sigh rolls through your lips, “because it was the one case I couldn’t solve.”

There’s another tilt of her head, a telling sign of surprise for her. “Only one? That’s better than most Spector?”

“Spector?”

“Yeah, a nickname.”

You had to admit it wasn't too bad, it also had nothing to do with relishing in an almost supernatural closeness to her.

Have you always been a hopeless romantic?

San would probably agree.

“I’ll allow it.”

A tender warmth crackles to life in your chest, a chuckle of smile parts her lips. You can only imagine crescent eyes that rivalled the moon.

Slowly the sounds of the Emerald City faded in the throes of your conversation, the sound of your boots the only companion.

“Still, it weighs on me like a weight I can’t relinquish.”

You feel the squeeze of her hand against your shoulder, reassurance. “There is always one mystery we cannot solve.”

“The motive is what gets me, it’s usually the strand that I pull on to unravel the mystery.”

“Don’t let the murderers hear that dear Spector, otherwise they might get ideas.”

She elicits a small chuckle with her words. Still, her eyes linger on you. “Perhaps the act itself is the motive?”

Perhaps the fog was weaker or your intoxication, replaced with a different fervour. Her finer beautiful details dance across your eyes.

Soft delicate rose-like lips, your mind lingers on what their embrace would feel like.

A touch of heaven?

An entrancing whirlpool you barely fight your way out of, your eyes return to her, beautiful and decadent.

Her eyes widen, as her body stiffens against yours.

For a moment you’re scared she’s gonna drop you.

Has she caught you staring? Your eyes cut away like the flick of a knife, words choke and stumble out of your voice. “The act itself?”

Smooth.

You barely clear your throat in time to avoid choking on your own air.

You can feel the slightest shake in her voice, “uh? Maybe the ah, thefts are a claim to existence? Like a flame burning what it can with the last embers.”

“To prove it existed?”

Her eyes return to yours, a soft delicate nod. A primal part of your brain begs to caress her face.

A notion you barely fight off, for better or for worse.

She offers a soft almost awkward smile under your lingering gaze, gone is the confidence from earlier.

You clear your throat once again.

“What is it that you do Miss Gahyeon?”

“Me?” Her eyebrows know together, only know do you realise you missed out the beautiful symphony of her features, her cheeks puffing ever so slightly as her eyes drift to the moon. “I’m a… collector I suppose? Of various curios… Basically anything that catches my mind.”

You laugh ever so softly, not wanting to pull her out of her delicate dance. “Perhaps you should worry Miss Gahyeon?”

She stiffens once again? “...Why is that Spector?”

There’s an odd lingering of nerves.

“Perhaps the Ungesewen will target your store?”

Her eyes brows raise ever so slightly as her features soften, a rigidity you didn’t notice until it was gone. “Oh…”

Her eyes dance over the streets before a smile blesses her lips. “Wouldn’t that mean I’d get to spend more time with you, Spector?”

A deadly stab at your heart, unprecedented and uncalled for. Still, her smile blooms brighter, a smile with deep-seated roots.

Still your heart melts in its embrace, your brain tickles with the idea of stealing a kiss. Sadly words crest at the edge of your ears, a steep cliff face.

The end.

“Looks like we’re here, Spector.”

She hides it well, but there’s the hint of sour disappointment that hangs at the edge of her beautiful lips, a dagger that only burrows deeper.

She relinquished whatever hold she has, your legs are firm, though you wish they weren’t. There’s the briefest flicker of her image, like a dying flame or a mirage in the desert.

A trick of the light? Or the warp of a tired mind.

“It was a wonderful time getting to know you Spector,” her fingers scrunch against your coat. “It… truly was.”

There’s a tenderness that belies a deep abyss of sorrow, one you don’t have all the pieces to understand.

Perhaps you’re looking too deep in a shallow puddle.

Water is often a mirror after all.

Still, you muster what you can of a smile. “The pleasure was all mine Gahyeon.”

Her smile blooms once more, still, you catch the sour edges cusping the sides of her beautiful soft lips.

Your head tilts to the side, “is something amiss?”

Her mouth opens then clamps shut, the slightest huff flares past her nose. “I… It’s not often, I have company, let alone someone willing to talk to me.”

A smile tickles your lips, “I didn’t realise Volker City was lacking in reputable companions…”

Your words hang in the air, hung by the thread of your own trepidation.

Just bite the bullet.

“Especially someone as beautiful as you.”

The green hue of the emerald flame nearly obfuscates her blush, still she preens under your gaze tucking a loose strand behind her ear.

There’s a determined look on her face as she strides closer to you. Her eyebrows knot together.

“People just tend to forget about me is all, Spector.”

“Perhaps it was them who didn’t need to be remembered.”

Her fingers tug at the lapel of your coat, straightening your collar as she goes, slowly her hands crest your neck, there’s a glimmer of a decadent smile, pure and rivalled in its brightness. Your mind lingers on confidence unthought of, to pull her close and bask in her embrace.

Words melt against your ears, blurred and muffled as her eyes linger on your left lapel, confusion knots your eyebrows, a question probably.

Your mind rattles and rings as you’re caught off guard by a sudden presence.

Her lips melt against yours, soft and delicate, yet strong and hungry. You pull her as tight as you can, hands tugging desperately at her waist mirrored by her ravenous hunger pulling you into the tender embrace of her lips.

Still your mind rings and rattles, lips left wanting more as you open your eyes.

Gone with the green emerald fog.

You can taste the words muttered at the edge of your lips. “You know you look better without the badge Spector.”

An odd comment you’re left to ponder in the suddenly cold loneliness of the night.

Your brain prickles with the same edge…

Your eyes catch your lapel, empty and naked much like San suggested, no Inspector’s mark to bear.

Inspector.

That’s what she called you.

Ungesewen.

Her blood pools in your hands as you desperately cling to her, her breathing uneven and ragged.

Still she smiles as you look deep in her eyes.

“Indeed you do Spector,” There’s a whimper of a chuckle, a flash of pain lingers on her face. “Took you long enough.”

Questions linger like a swarm of locust, cast aside by her fading life. “What happened to you?”

She wheezes with the softest smile, “someone else… saw me,” her breathing falters and struggles for a fraction of a moment. “Silver and black hair… I think?”

You tear at your shirt desperately as you search desperately for her wound.

“Were you?” No, surely not.

There’s a weak shake of her head, she gulps back against the pain.

Her blood shimmers almost metallically, like liquid gold or silver, with a reddish tinge. Still, she flickers in your grasp.

Her abdomen, a deep wound, big enough to fit a small hand in.

No wonder she was finding it so hard to breathe.

Still you catch the glimmer of something actually metallic, a shard almost like obsidian. Your brain prickles with curiosity that was better left unsatiated.

Her fingers fumble with a key, old bronze worn at the edges. Her breath grows more ragged with each second, somehow growing colder and paler.

Like touching a ghost.

There’s a barely mustered smile, “my collection…”

Tears well ever so slightly at the edge of her eyes. Your hand clamps over hers forcing her to keep her key.

“Please,” she begs the soft familiar sour edges to her lips.

“And strike my greatest rival off the record? How else will you be remembered?”

Her eyes flutter weakly, soft and unfocused barely cling to your words, she smiles. Her hands crests your cheek. “By you… the first… person to see… me.”

Her eyebrows knot together, delirious and lost.

“War Smith?” Her eyes clamp shut as she fights back more building pain.

The words melt through your ears with a foreign familiarity.

Fitting, yet not.

Your hand clutches your dagger, thankful you were no longer in Vangeal. Your dagger bites through your skin in a desperate plea.

Your fingers trace barely familiar runes and sigils.

Blood magic.

Carved deep with the edge of your knife to cement it, Vangeal would not answer your call so far from home.

Her hand catches against yours, “what are you doing Spector?”

“Saving you.”

You feel the presence of something more in the air, a dark heaviness.

“To those who would heed my call, a bargain made in blood.” Slowly the flames dampen around reduced to smouldering cinders.

The only light guided by the moon into your abode.

“To those who wish harm, a promise scarred across my skin.” Even the gas lit flames down the street shudder and weaken with your words.

Your eyes close shut.

Your mind boils like water brimming with steam, with power. You feel a veil so thin, you feel the touch of so much more.

Ancient strings bounce and dance in your mind, music unheard for centuries.

An answer.

You feel the cold chill of lands long forgotten etched with snow and ice. A beam of light clings desperately in the night sky. The air hangs thick with war.

The War Smith answers with a price you can’t understand.

Gahyeon’s screams tear through the air like the sharpest blade, fear lingers in every crevice of your soul as pain flashes across her face.

Perhaps you made the wrong choice in desperation?

You watch as the emerald flame flares back to life brighter and stronger than ever before, threatening to burn down everything.

A simmering rage hangs in the air before it’s violently snuffed out with an orange hue like that of the sun.

The obsidian shard crawls out of Gahyeon with ratifying pain as blood slowly crawls back inside of her like a living sickly creature leaving behind a silvery metallic liquid.

Gahyeon mouth opens almost to scream in pain, surprised by the sudden influx of warmth as he body slowly knits back together.

Her features dance endlessly as she adjusts to the new sensations.

You watch as you feel a strand of silver liquid climb up your body knitting itself together across your scarred hand.

The piece of obsidian lies on your floor yet all you can think of is Gahyeon. Her hands linger touch at her skin, smooth and perfect.

Like no wound was ever there.

Your home is a mess of dagger etched floorboards and silvery liquid. The Volkers would probably want a word with you in the morrow. But as you cradle her in your embrace you’d take whatever may come and gladly pay the price for her to be seen.

#happy gahyeon day #dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher x reader #dreamcatcher scenarios #kpop imagines #dreamcatcher #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #dreamcatcher imagine #kpop scenarios #girl group #gahyeon x reader #gahyeon imagines #gahyeon scenarios

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milliestars4 · 7 months

Text

A court of the unforseen

Chapter 12

“The need for control always comes from someone that has lost it.”

It was the thought of losing control that would bring even the strongest of soldiers down into the pitfall that was their mind. The thoughts would swarm the conscience until the dam broke, and their sanity with it.

A tether snapping, and the whole world just collapses.

Fire and night triumphant was a burning cascade of flames igniting Eris Vanserra’s every pore. The anger lighting a cannon of unconcealed fusillades, their force beating a hole in every prudent thought his body would use as a last defence, pleading with his power to spare the High Lord.

The High Lord that had lost all control.

The High Lord that had no control over their power.

Eris was fucked.

By the fucking cauldron, Eris could not rid the shadowsinger from his thoughts. It was like the mother had cursed his very being with vivid imagery of Azriel after every blink.

A primal instinct to help and protect was discarded the moment the Illyrian had left his chambers, but some lingering feeling Eris couldn’t place was prominent in the beat of magic flowing through his body.

The snap at Akiro was also running rampant along with every other pitiful action he had committed that night. It was his party, solas, he was only worried for Eris.

But everything was all bombarding enough, and Eris couldn’t catch a break.

A small part of him meant it, though - his facade was too complicated and thought through to be abandoned now. Eris had already humiliated himself to keep the mask from slipping.

If only there was a world where Eris could figure himself out. Figure out how to conceal this gods forsaken magic stealing his mind from his grasp by every passing moment.

If only he were a boy again and could seek gentle solace in the safety of his mother’s arms.

If only this never happened, if this were all a dream and he had never become the mess he was now.

If only.

——

Oh gods, his head.

Azriel roamed through the halls of the House of Wind tirelessly. No amount of pacing could ease his rising panic, though. The clutch some cursed emotion had on his chest squeezed hard, hard enough to snatch his stoic persona and perfect icy gaze from him as Cassian swaggered into the foyer.

The mask slipped, but snapped back up in an instance, to the idle eye, it was a movement gone unnoticed, to Cassian, it was a rare sight; the Shadowsinger a mess of intrusive thoughts and a shortness of breath.

Cassian feigned ignorance, but Azriel saw through it.

“Rhys told me about your accident.” The armchair groaned under the General’s weight as he slowly eased onto it. “Who would’ve guessed you get ambushed.” Humour laced his tone, but it came with genuine relief as an aftertaste.

“Busybody.” Azriel tried his best to smile; to seem unbothered, but his head pounded. Shadows swarmed his neck, leaving cooling trails in their wake. Their aim was to alleviate, but just made him shiver, ergo hurting his fragile head more.

“Don’t play coy, brother. You can talk to me.”

“Did Rhysand send you to see if I had another story to tell? To see if I missed valuable information during my alibi?” Azriel was half joking, a smile blooming. But he knew Cas wouldn’t just start some idle conversation in such a way; he was sent on some sort of mission by Rhys.

“I do care, you know. You aren’t alone in this world.” Cassian supplied, that insufferable look of pity shining in those identical hazel eyes. Azriel could not stand that look. It made his skin crawl.

Darkness pooled at his wings, death incarnate to a weak mortal with innocence streaming through their minds.

To Cassian, though, this was his brother. Much to Azriel’s dismay, Cassian understood him; shit , Rhysand did, too.

“I don’t want to have this conversation, Cas. Just ask Rhys?”

“I want to ask you.”

Azriel wasn’t in the mood for confrontation, wasn’t in the mood for lies compiled in attempt to break through his icy facade. So Azriel was a coward, once more; Azriel ran from his issues and those who cared for him by winnowing away.

——

Eris had to get away, the walls were closing in on him, and his magic was about to cascade into an eruption of rage-filled fire.

The walls were getting to close, his thoughts were running rampant to the point where a string of sentences in his head would only state his unease, his inability to contain the simple stoic sanity.

It was all getting too much, too hard to stay in control of what was his own body.

Eris Winnowed away.

He didn’t know where he went, or if he’d come back from the gap between reality and the endless pit of darkness and unknowing.

Eris didn’t care if he came out on the other side, he just needed to get out.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #ao3 #azriel x eris #eris vanserra #a court of the unforseen

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mordysworld · 1 year

Text

An encounter with God: a short story

This is a short story I wrote detailing a depressed mans experience with meeting a Goddess. Once again this contains quite dark themes with mentions/descriptions of self harm.

A tired body carried an even more haggard soul room to room. Isn’t that what a body is though? Isn't that the very reason for it’s conception? Just a fleshy vessel to ferry around the mind and soul. Such a fragile thing isn’t it, human flesh.

No light dare set foot within the threshold of the cold apartment. Any and all darkness that came from within threatened to suck the joy from anything it touched leaving nothing but an empty shell. Though, one supposes, it is much like a vacuum. There's no hope of escape once you enter its clutches; it suffocates you stealing any molecule of oxygen you could hope to happen across then watches gleefully as your organs shut down and the light leave your eyes-

“Aahhh” the shell of a person sighed in relief. Thick crimson blood trickled down the incision on his thigh and suddenly he was back. He could see the dull, cramped apartment which was all he could afford on his minimum wage job. That same job where he gets abusive insults hurled at him on the daily, he can never escape the nauseating scent of burger grease either, it haunts him. He can feel the pleasurable sting from the cut on his leg, its grounding, he supposed, makes him feel alive again and satiates the hunger for pain and the high he feels, cut after cut after-

What's that?

Clear, clean drops of water dripped periodically into the sink. Ceramic plates were crusted with caked up food, piled up high in and around the sink. Great. More shit to do. He sighed deeply trying to focus on the euphoric realisation that he can actually feel something again. If he's not careful, someone might think him mad. Although he has done this before, this feeling doesn't last too long, even if he tries to savour it while it's there. What was he talking about? Oh yes, madness. Didn’t someone once say, the definition of madness is doing the same thing over and expecting different results?

What was he doing with his life?

Instead of spiralling further into his own self deprecating thoughts, he headed to his bed; he’d take unconsciousness over this- anything, over this. He laid on the lumpy mattress on the floor, of which he had the gall to call a mattress, and let sleep wash over his soul.

He opened his eyes to be met with a dense forest. Before sitting up he looked around, eyes darting, paranoid. Where in fucks name was he? He laid on the forest floor, still clad in some boxers and a tattered vest yet the cold didn't bite, the breeze didn’t blow, it was tranquil and a welcome escape from the mundanities of city life; he honest to god couldn't remember a time where he had felt so at peace and so- happy isn't the word, but the usual ache which came with his very existence no longer hung over him, the vice like weight that gripped his chest every moment of everyday that made it hard to breathe, was absent.

Usually when one encounters a situation like this, they would pinch themselves. He did not. Whatever this was, dream or no, he did not want to wake up. If he were to die like this at this moment? He would feel a genuine joy that he hadn’t felt since his childhood. Above all else, a hope, that his final moments weren't as agonising as his actual life.

He finally gave in, sitting up and turning left and right, no one was there. Just the beautiful forest floor dotted with yellow and pink wild flowers, each one blooming and bursting with vibrant colour and leaving a pleasant smell in his nostrils. With little difficulty he stood, meek in his posture, he glanced around once more before he felt it, a tugging sensation in the very depths of his soul. A soft voice called to him beckoning him towards them. Cautiously, he walked towards the origin of the sound and came across the most ethereal being he had ever seen with his wholly unworthy eyes.

Auburn curls cascaded down her shoulders in waves, each strand perfect and shiny. Her skin was dark and smooth as silk and he was sure if he touched it it would feel even better than it looked. The robes she wore hung elegantly off of her full frame, reaching the ground and pooling around where he assumed her feet would be. Butterflies sat on her hair like a crown, each one flapping their wings gently ever so often. Her face…he’d never seen someone so beautiful. She held a certain familiarity but he knew that he had never seen her, if he had he would surely have remembered. Her features were soft and kind, only helped by the white freckles which littered her face but were particularly prominent over her nose and cheeks. She had an aura of safety and kindness, a security that usually only a parent could offer you. This woman spoke a silent promise that in her presence, no harm would ever come to you whether the threat be external or internal.

“Hello?” He spoke hesitantly to the giant lady Goddess before him. She looked down at him, tears gathering in her rose quartz eyes.

“I made you, are you aware?” She finally spoke, offering a giant hand for the man to crawl upon. He did. He looked up at her, squinting slightly. A halo of sunshine burst from behind her skull making her already bright and bewitching aura almost blinding to his puny mortal eyes. She held him at face height scrutinising him, analysing his every feature and waiting for his reply. Every bone in his body compelled him to agree to her question. This was, to him, without a doubt the great being who created him- it had to be.

“I hear your thoughts, I see what you do to yourself- why do you hate my creation?” She asked gently a stray tear rolling down her cheek. He curled in on himself, head bowed in shame. Crystalline droplets of salty tears fell onto the palm that held him. It wasn’t his fault was it? He didn't mean to be this way, he didn't ask to be made broken.

“I made you perfect as you are, please don’t break my heart” She cried further bringing him to her chest, cradling him gently as if she held too tight, he may shatter. He curled into the giant woman's embrace, leeching off the warmth and comfort she provided, soaking it up like a flower in the sun.

“I don’t want to go back, please don't make me go back, I'm not strong enough to do this anymore” He whispered, he desperately wished not to return, he fears if he is sent back he may break her creation. The last thing he wanted was to break her heart.

“I know one way I can ease this pain but you would have to abandon everything you know in your realm and live up here. This is a big decision to make; my child you will not see your loved ones again for quite some time. This is usually a last resort but I can see the anguish you experience on a daily basis- I can feel the weight of the world on your shoulders and I wish to save you, to save my creation. So…what shall you choose?” She asked gently. She didn’t rush, nor push, nor poke. She simply sat admiring the silence they sat in, her aura so bright and clear and pure it single-handedly fought off any awkwardness that threatened to penetrate the bubble they'd seemingly created.

“I can feel the pain and suffering you feel and I wish to set you free, that is the only way you will be able to see how wonderful my creation truly is.” She gently used a finger to caress the man's cheek offering a welcome warmth he hadn’t felt in so long. She gently lent forward once more planting a soft kiss on his unruly crown of curls, then everything faded to black.

#oc #original work #short story

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jalnandanz · 2 years

Text

5 centimeters per second. — l.hs.

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

summary: close friends and almost lovers, separated by distance. more than a decade of no contact, but the both of them still hold a small, almost-dying flame of hope that one day, they may be able to see the cherry blossoms fall again. just like what they did years ago.

genre: angst, fluff, “right person wrong time” trope (IM SORRY)

word count: 4.8k (it was intended to be like 10k im sorry idk what happened)

warnings: very heavy spoilers for the movie “5 centimeters per second” (the plot is mostly based off that), the entire fic is set in japan, reader is the same age as heeseung in this fic, a huge time skip, very brief mentions of smoking and drinking, idk maybe get tissues or smth ??

a/n: and here we go!!!! this is based off my favourite movie to ever exist (makoto shinkai ur a genius and i love ur works). im honestly just a sucker for angst and,,, there’s not much to say here tbh but enjoy!!! (silently praying this does well cuz i put my entire soul into this...) ily ^o^ pls pls do give me feedback, lmk ur thoughts on this!! it would be very appreciated <3

THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD! if there any mistakes please do lmk!

prologue. cherry blossoms fall at a speed of 5cm/s.

“They say it's five centimeters per second.”

“What is?”

“The speed at which cherry blossoms fall. It's five centimeters per second.”

“You seem to know a lot of this stuff.”

“The cherry blossoms are like snow, right?”

She ran off across the train tracks, not sparing a moment to wait for him. The train barriers went down, blocking his path to the girl.

Opening her pink umbrella (the exact same shade as the petals that she had watched with him earlier), she said to him with a gentle smile, “It would be great if we could watch the cherry blossoms fall again next year.”

The sound of the train passing by in front of them interrupted all their thoughts.

ACT ONE: us in the past.

i. sakura petals cascade down gently, almost like how our love slowly blooms.

He clutched the fragile letter in his hands, reading through every single word.

“Dear Heeseung, summer is pretty hot here, but not as scorching as Tokyo. But when I think about it, I miss Tokyo's hot summers too. I still remember all the scenery there, and even though the air-conditioning was freezing cold in the shopping malls, I miss it. The last time I saw you was at our elementary school graduation. It's already been 6 months. I can hardly believe so much time has passed. I wonder if you still remember who I am?”

Of course I do.

“Dear Heeseung, thank you for the reply. I’m heartened to know that you still remember me. It made me so, so happy. It’s well into autumn here, and the leaves have turned a brilliant orange. I even had to pull out a sweater for the first time in months yesterday. I’m-”

“Heeseung? What’s that? A love letter?”

He snapped his head up, startled to find a classmate of his, his grip on the white paper tightening.

“Is it true that you’ll be transferring next month?”, she asked. He replied with a sad “Yes”, and she said, “I see. It will be lonely here without you.” he smiled sadly, and turned his attention back to the precious letter in his grasp.

“I’m actually writing this letter on the train, because school and practice have been starting very early these days. I cut my hair the other day… even my ears are visible. It’s that short. You probably wouldn’t be able to recognise me if you saw me in public.”

No, I would recognise you anywhere.

“I’m back!”, his mother called out from the doorway, interrupting his letter-reading. “Welcome home.” the drowsy sound of the washing machine played lazily in the background.

“I bet you’re changing little by little too, Heeseung.”

Around him, the lights from rooms of the building opposite began to go out like flames in the dark night sky,

“Heeseung, have you been doing well these days? It's getting colder. It’s been starting to snow here. Everytime it snows, I wrap myself in blankets at home. I don’t think it’s snowed in Tokyo yet, right? Even though I've moved away for months, I still look at Tokyo's weather forecast out of habit.”

He contemplated on what to reply with.

The next day, he asked his friends, "Hey, have you ever been to Tochigi?”

“Tochigi? No clue.”

“... that’s what i thought.”

He fished out the letter he hadn’t finished reading yesterday from his school bag.

“I was surprised to hear that you were the one transferring schools this time in your reply. We both got used to transferring schools when we were little… But still, Kagoshima? That's pretty far away , isn’t it? It’s no longer a distance where I can meet you whenever I want just by riding a train for half an hour. That makes me feel a little… lonely. I know you can’t help it though. Take care, Heeseung.”

ii. i love you sounds like a promise.

“Dear Heeseung, I'm so, so happy that we will be seeing each other on 4th March. It’ll be just about a year since we last met, won’t it? I don’t know why, but I feel kind of nervous. Thank you for agreeing to meet at the station nearest to my house, it’s a long journey so be careful. I will see you at 7pm at the waiting area of the station. Also, there’s a large cherry tree near my house, so I bet that in the spring… the petals will fall at five centimeters per second. I’m really hoping spring will come with you on that day, Heeseung. You know why.”

I do.

His alarm clock beeped for 12am, 4th March.

It was raining heavily outside that day. Heeseung heard some of his classmates mumble, “It’s supposed to snow by tonight.”

He was packing his things, getting ready for the long train ride. Running over to his locker and throwing his things inside, he pulled out a piece of paper, filled with an elaborate plan of his calculations. If all went right, he would be able to reach about 10 minutes before (name) did.

His watch showed 3.54pm, he was 6 minutes before time. Good. He ventured out in the rainy scenery before his eyes, pulling the hood of his coat over his head.

He got on the train, standing near the window. He looked outside and all he could see were small buildings flashing before his eyes, and snow. Snow. It wasn’t supposed to snow now, not now. Why now? Why did it not snow at night like what the weather forecast said it would?

His mind wandered back to when they were 8, and having the time of their lives.

“Hey, have you finished the book I lent you?”

“Yes, it was great! I loved it.” Not as much as I love you.

“Look! It’s a crab!” She proudly showed him her creation of a crab made out of french fries. He stared in awe, eyes sparkling. But they sparkle more when I look at you.

“Heeseung! It’s the cat we fed last time!” she jumped up and down excitedly, squealing when the cat made its way towards her, weaving itself between her legs. She bent down to pet its head, apologizing for not bringing any food. She picked the cat up and spun around, face lighting up with joy. Have I ever told you that I love your smile?

They were so similar. Exactly one year after Heeseung transferred to this new school, (name) transferred too. They both weren’t the most fond of loud places, and preferred spending time in the library. Naturally, they started talking and soon became close friends, and he had even saved her from a group of bullies ganging up on her. She had done the same too.

They were so similar, and so… in love. Maybe it was an exaggeration to say that at the mere age of 8, but he truly did feel a connection with her.

For some strange reason, Heeseung thought that they would end up going to the same middle school, high school and so on. He thought they would stay together, just as they were doing right now. How wrong he was.

iii. but every second felt like an eternity.

“Shinjuku, Shinjuku, last stop. For passengers who…” the announcement faded away.

Heeseung raced down the stairs to change train lines, reaching the train just in time before the door closed behind him. It was the first time he was at Shinjuku station. His heart pounded rapidly. He was finally about to see (name) again.

“This train will be stopping for 4 minutes to connect with the express train. For passengers headed…”

Heeseung got off the train, waiting in line to catch the next train.

He sighed as another memory freed itself from the cage he tried to lock it in.

“You’re transferring schools? But you went through all that trouble to get accepted in your current one.”

“I'm moving to a school in Tochigi… I'm so sorry.

“No, don’t feel sorry…”

“I tried telling my parents I could go from where I'm at now but they said they won’t let me until I'm older. I’m sorry…” her voice cracked at the last few words.

“You don’t have to say anymore, I understand.”

“I’m sorry…”

Through the speaker, he could clearly hear how her heart shattered like glass falling from a shelf. Yet there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

At the terminal Heeseung transferred to, there were crowds of people coming home after work. The smell of fresh snow lingered in the atmosphere, the sound of squeaky rain boots from the commuters reached his ears like an unwanted melody.

“Due to the unexpected snow, the trains headed to Oomiya terminal will be experiencing a short delay of 8 minutes in arrival. We seek your understanding and patience…”

Yet another delay. Until that moment, Heeseung had never even considered the thought of the trains arriving late. He looked at his travel plan, glancing back and forth from his watch to the handwritten words on the crumpled piece of paper. His anxiety grew even larger.

“The train is currently running 10 minutes late. We apologize for any inconveniences in your busy day…” The dreaded announcement played, with Heeseung losing hope every minute.

His watch showed 5.54pm.

“Dear passengers, due to the delay of the previous train, we will be stopping at this station for a while. We appreciate your understanding.”

The stations seemed to move further and further apart from each other, and Heeseung thought that he might never even be able to reach his destination. When the train finally moved, it seemed to stop at every single station for an unbelievably long wait, and time quickly passed by in a flash. He had more than 20 stations to go, and his watch showed 6.59pm. He had a minute left.

Tick.

It was 7.00pm.

The wait was so painfully long, and Heeseung was so, so hungry. Everything was dampening his spirits, and he never imagined that such a long-awaited day had turned into his worst nightmare. Everything was going wrong.

The time on his watch moved like a flash of lightning, yet the wait on the train was like a snail moving.

The time they said to meet had passed, and Heeseung dejectedly dumped his bag on one of the seats. He was scared that (name) was beginning to worry. He took out the letter meant for her from his pocket, gazing defeatedly at it.

The day she called him to tell him that she was transferring schools, he decided to write every single thing he had wanted to say. He worked on that one letter for 2 weeks, pouring his heart and soul into it. He couldn’t wait for her to read it and couldn’t wait for her reply. in the letter, he had confessed his feelings.

Stuffing the letter back in his pocket, Heeseung got off the train, heading to the next terminal to change lines. Staring at the piece of paper filled with his plans yet again and gazing at his watch, he walked towards a vending machine. The time was 7.41pm, and he was feeling so utterly defeated.

He reached into the pocket of his coat to pull out coins to buy a can of coffee. Rummaging in it, he pulled his hand out. The slightly creased letter got caught on his hand and fell out of his pocket, flying out into the snowstorm outside. There was nothing Heeseung could do except watch the letter fly away, until he could no longer even make out the silhouette of it. He hit the vending machine with his fist in frustration. Tears welled up in his eyes as he stared down at his shoes, standing there like a pathetic loser.

Everything was going wrong.

iv. all that remained was the lingering feeling of her soft lips.

Heeseung got onto the next train, still thinking back about the letter he had poured all his love and heart into writing. It was so sad that something so precious could be taken away so easily.

“Dear passengers, due to the heavy snow, we will be making a temporary stop here. We apologize for any inconvenience…”

Heeseung stared at the black watch on his left wrist. 8.54pm. His face dropped as he removed the watch, placing it onto the small silver tray beside him. He was convinced that this was the worst thing that could ever happen, and that things could not get any worse. At least he found some stupid comfort in that knowledge.

Thinking about her letters, he seemed to picture her always writing them alone, with no one beside her to keep her company.

In the end, the train stopped there in the wilderness for almost 2 hours.

The universe clearly hated him.

He couldn’t do anything but sit there and wait. He was sure (name) would have gone back home by now.

Please tell me you have already returned home.

When Heeseung finally reached his destination, it was 10.50pm. (name) would definitely not be here anymore. He walked down the stairs, greeting the officer at the information counter with a defeated smile.

Where would he stay now? What would he do? He travelled almost 7 hours just to be defeated by this stupid thing called time.

He continued walking, dragging his feet behind him. Looking up, he saw a brief silhouette of a girl, his eyes widening in pure shock. He walked closer, stopping a few meters away from her. Her, who was sitting in front of a roaring fireplace, wrapped in a red scarf.

No… tell me you’ve gone home. Tell me you didn’t wait for me until now…

He walked even closer, stopping in front of the girl. It was her.

“(name)...”

She slowly turned her head up, vision blurring with tears when she saw his face. All she could do was hang onto his coat and sob.

He grabbed a rice ball from the handmade bento she’d worked on since this morning.

“How is it?”

“It’s the most delicious rice ball I've ever had.”

“You’re exaggerating…!”

The pair sat in front of the fireplace, eating and talking. Maybe this journey was worth it in the end.

The pair walked into the slightly less heavy snow, their footprints making an imprint in the blanket of white beneath their feet.

The girl ran into the winter wonderland, stretching her hands out as she caught the small flakes of snow in her palms.

“Hey, is that the cherry tree you talked about in your letter?” The boy asked.

“Yeah. It's the cherry tree. Don’t you think it looks a little like snow?”

They gazed into each other’s eyes. ”It sure does.” Their lips met.

As the snow fell softly to the ground, Heeseung was suddenly filled with a strange sadness. He knew that from that point on, they wouldn’t be together forever. All that could stay with him was the lingering feeling of her warm, soft lips.

That night, they stayed in a shack by the field, wrapped together in layers of blankets. They fell asleep side by side.

The next morning, the two parted.

"Heeseung, I'm sure you'll be okay from now on. I know it."

"Thank you, (name), you'll be okay too!"

The train doors closed shut, separating the two.

"I'll write to you, I'll call you too!" He desperately tried to shout his last words, placing his palm on the window of the glass door. Matching her palm to his, she smiled, trying to hide her despair. The train left the station.

He never told her about the letter for her that he'd lost, because his world changed after that kiss.

She took out a pink letter from her bag, meant for him but never given in the end. She wistfully looked towards the never-ending blue sky, and for once she felt that there was still hope.

He, too, looked out towards the scenery beyond the window. Everything was blanketed beneath a thick layer of white snow. The blue sky was clear, still, filled with clouds. If Heeseung saw correctly, there was one in the shape of a flower. He wondered if she had spotted that cloud too.

There was a strange comfort in the knowledge that they would still be under the same sky, forever.

ACT ONE: us in the past. END.

ACT TWO: the missile in the dark sky.

v. and yet i know it was love at first sight.

Sumida took in a large breath, trying to gain the courage to talk to him.

She walked over to where he was practicing archery, a smile dancing on her face when he saw her. “Good morning, Heeseung!” she chirped.

“Good morning, Sumida. You went to the beach again right? You’ve been practicing hard.”

Her face grew warm at the praise. “I wouldn’t exactly say that…”

She still hadn’t filled in the form.

Ah, the form. The one where they asked every student in school to tell them what they were aiming for in life. Be it a dream job or further education, Sumida had no idea at all what she wanted to do.

“Of course, you haven’t filled it out. Everything that’s on your mind is about Heeseung.” her friend said with a knowing laugh. She denied it strongly, a blush growing on her face at the mere mention of his name.

That evening, she stared out towards the open sea. When would she be able to surf again? The thought worried her.

The next day after class, she stood behind a wall near the bike shed. After spotting him, she gasped and hid back behind the wall. Pretending to have run into him there, she walked out.

“Sumida? You’re on your way home too?”

“Ah, yes…”

“Let’s go back together.”

Since the start, Sumida had always thought Heeeung was different from the other boys. She fell in love with him at first sight, on the day he transferred to her class. Every single day, she thought that her love for him grew even stronger. She didn’t know what to do, and she was scared every day.

“Sumida? We’re at the convenience store, do you want to buy the packet milk that you drink every day?”

She nodded her head, and rushed inside the shop. After paying, she stepped out, only to see him staring at his phone wistfully. He immediately snapped the phone shut when he saw her, tucking it in his pocket. “Oh, you didn’t get the milk today?” She shook her head and told him that she wanted to try something new.

She found herself thinking about what happened earlier. Sometimes he seemed to be writing a text message, and maybe it was wishful thinking, but she hoped that the message would be addressed to her.

The next evening, she was riding her motorcycle back home again, but this time by herself. Along the way, she spotted a familiar bike. Taking her helmet off, she got down the bike. She climbed up the small hill, only to see Heeseung writing another text message… again.

“Oh, Sumida? I’m surprised you found me here. We didn’t see each other at the bike shed today.”

He’s so kind. I don’t deserve it.

They got on their motorbikes again, riding until they stopped at a red light. A huge construction lorry drove by, and it seemed to go slower than a snail’s pace.

“They say it goes at 5 kilometers per hour.”

Something in Heeseung dropped. “They say it falls at 5 centimeters per second.”

It started raining.

vi. now i realize that you were never looking at me.

Tap. Tap. He was writing yet another text message… to no one.

He wondered when he got this strange habit.

The next morning before school, it was finally clear enough for Sumida to surf again. She was finally in her zone.

At school during lunch, one of Sumida’s friends asked, “You’re looking extremely happy today, Sumida. Did something happen between you and Heeseung?” she said nothing, and just grinned, a light blush spreading across her cheeks.

“No way!” Her friends gasped in surprise. She decided not to tell them.

She was going to confess to Heeseung today.

Yet again, she pretended to run into him at the bike shed. She mustered up her courage, waving to him. She got the same packet of milk at the convenience store, and decided that it was the right time to tell him. Pulling on his shirt, she opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.

“Is anything wrong?”

“No… it’s nothing. Sorry.”

He nodded and they got on their bikes, but Sumida’s bike seemed to have stopped working.

Heeseung noticed it and said, “We’ll leave the bikes here and repair it tomorrow. I’ll walk home with you.” She was about to refuse, but he had already started walking.

They walked side by side along the deserted path, not exchanging a single word.

I have to tell him… but how?

She looked down at her feet, tears starting to form in her eyes. She trailed behind him, the tears turning into sobs. Heeseung turned around, startled to see her suddenly crying. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s nothing…” She still continued sobbing. Why? Don’t be so nice to me…

The pair stood there, no words leaving their mouths except for sobs from Sumida. Suddenly, a loud roaring sound could be heard. As they turned to look at the source of the interruption, they spotted a missile being launched into the sky. It seemed to go higher and higher, and never stopped. Then, once it was all out of view, all that remained was a cloud of white smoke.

Sumida felt like she found the answer to everything.

She now knew why she had found Heeseung to be different from others, but at the same time, she finally realized that Heeseung was never really looking at her. That is why, on that day, she never confessed or said a word to him.

vii. because i will never be the one you desire.

Heeseung was kind. He was truly kind. But he was always looking far beyond her. He was looking far into the distance. She would never know what he was looking for.

She was sure she couldn’t give him what he truly wanted.

Like the missile blasted into the universe on that day, he would only be looking towards the unknown.

Today, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year… he would always only look far beyond her.

But even today, tomorrow, next week, month, year, forever… she would only look at him. She would only be helplessly in love with him. She would only desire him.

Even if they magically got together somehow, she knew that she would never be the one who he wanted most. She would only be a backup plan. She would only be a mere replacement.

Because whatever he was searching for, whoever he seemed to be texting everyday, and whoever he wanted, that person would never be her. And she knew that, as much as she didn’t want to admit it. So she gave up.

She gave up trying to befriend him. She gave up trying to make him fall for her. She gave up hoping that he would somehow return her feelings.

She also hated him for giving him false hope, for being so kind to her, for comforting her all the time. However, she was thankful for him all the same.

It was time for her to stop trying.

Whoever you’re looking for, far beyond me, I hope you find them.

ACT TWO: the missile in the dark sky. END.

ACT THREE: last night, i had a dream.

viii. what if i had turned my head back that day?

Click. Tap. The sound of a keyboard reverberated throughout the small one-room apartment. Heeseung was typing and working on a document for his workplace, just as his boss had instructed him to. When he was done, he snapped the lid of the laptop shut, leaning back in his chair. His neck and shoulders ached.

His phone rang, his girlfriend’s name on the caller ID. Deciding not to pick the phone up, he tells himself that he will break up with her later. Not now.

He decided to head out. Throwing on a brown jacket, he shut the door behind him. It was spring anyways, it wouldn’t be too cold.

Reaching the railway tracks, he walked past a girl. How funny. It was the same tracks as the one that they had promised to watch the cherry blossoms together at. And the girl... She seemed to recognise him. And he had recognized her. He gasped lightly, but never turned his head back. Once they were both on opposite sides of the railway, he stopped in his tracks.

If I turned back now, I have a strong feeling that she would turn back as well.

He slowly looked over his shoulder, and so did she, and-

Whoosh!

The train zoomed past them, obstructing their view of each other. Just like years before.

The train never seemed to end. He looked down to the floor.

After it had fully passed by, he lifted his head up again, slowly and expectantly.

She was gone.

ix. and the snow falls like cherry blossoms on a vibrant spring day.

Heeseung was walking home from yet another dreaded day at work. The sky was already dark.

Out of habit, Heeseung took his phone out, beginning to type a message, yet stopped just before he hit send. Who was this message addressed to?

Stuffing his phone back in the pocket of his coat, he noticed it.

Small flakes of white dancing down gracefully, one of them melting in his palm.

It had started to snow.

“(name), i really wish you’d stay til’ new year’s.”

“Mother, I’ll be seeing you in a month for the wedding anyways. It’s fine.”

“Alright then. Take care of him well, okay? Call us if you need anything.”

“I will.” (name) smiled as she boarded the train, waving to her parents.

The book wasn’t as interesting as she hoped it would be. Closing the book, she placed it neatly in her bag. Her engagement ring twinkled as it caught the sunlight.

She looked out of the window wistfully, as if she was searching for something far away in the distance.

Last night, I dreamt of something. Back when he and I were both still children. It’s probably because of the letter I found yesterday while looking through my old possessions.

Somewhere in his apartment, Heeseung held a cigarette in his hand. His phone rang again. Heading into his apartment from the small balcony, he stared blankly at the email. Speed-reading it, one of the sentences caught his eye.

“Even now, I still love you…” That’s what the girl he’d been with for 3 years said. Yet, he was sure that even if they had exchanged a thousand messages, their hearts wouldn’t have moved even a centimeter closer.

Because I’m still in love with her.

x. the cherry blossoms stir and fall again as the train passes by.

Over the past few years, Heeseung has had so many thoughts. He didn’t know what these disturbing feelings were about or where they had surfaced from, so he decided to drown himself in work. Then one day, he realized that his heart was withering, and there was nothing in it but pain. He had completely lost all his feelings.

That day, he resigned from his job.

Kicking off empty beer cans from his floor, he put on a coat and walked out into the streets. It was cooling, and not too chilly. Perfect.

He walked into the convenience store, the bell on the door chiming behind him. He picked up a magazine, the front cover of it being the missile that was launched a decade ago. The one that he saw with his own two eyes.

At the same time when he was reading the magazine, she was standing at the train station, ready to go back home for the wedding.

Last night, I had a dream.

A dream of long ago.

Within the dream, the two of us were still thirteen…

Standing across the vast field blanketed in snow as far as the eye could see.

In the distance, the lights shimmering in houses were set sparsely, far and wide.

All that was left upon the newly fallen snow were our footprints.

Just like that…

We wished, without hesitation, that one day…

The two of us would be able…

… to see the cherry blossoms together again.

The snow fell gently, cascading down like cherry blossoms from a sakura tree.

353 notes · View notes

dickwheelie · 3 years

Text

sooooooo I wrote a sequel to that love entities jmart post that got pretty popular. all you really need to know is that post mag 200 jon becomes a local cryptid and listens to people's stories about encounters with the entities to help unburden them of some of their fear. please enjoy!

_____________

Just inside the entryway of Old Fishmarket Close, hidden just out of sight of the street, there stands a shrine. It is not an old shrine of weathered stone, nor is it carefully crafted with intricate religious symbols, nor is it static, weighed down by years of collected dust. It is in many ways a living shrine; flowers bloom and wilt at its feet, while above it, against the wall of the Close, piles of paper, photographs, and keepsakes are haphazardly stacked and stuck. The shrine seems to breathe as each day passes, as innumerable and unsung hands replace its flowers and let their offerings crawl up its wall like vines.

The shrine is not marked, but everyone who looks for it, in the shadows of the entryway, knows precisely who it is for.

You arrive that day with only a piece of notebook paper in your hand. Upon it is written a short message, and not an uncommon one to see at the shrine: Thank You. A substitute, of sorts, for the flowers and other gifts that people often leave. You, like many others, are not well off, and you hope that a small note can make up for your lack of material offerings.

As you approach the shrine, a gust of wind whistles through the alleyway and rustles the pages plastered across the length of the wall. You’ve brought no adhesive, so you slip the piece of paper partially beneath a bouquet lying on the stone walkway. It’s relatively fresh, so you hope it won’t be moved anytime soon. You’ve no idea who replaces the flowers, but you suspect it’s never the same person twice. The locals all know about the shrine and the person it’s meant for, and they’ve grown protective of them both.

Dozens of other people have had the same idea before you; the ground is littered with short notes of gratitude. Thank you for listening, says one, transcribed in loving calligraphy, the i’s dotted with hearts. Thank You For Finding Me, Whoever You Are, says another. I rely lik yor hat, says one written in crayon. Another says, You’ll probably never read this, but thank you for hearing my story. There must be hundreds of them, and there are more each time you visit.

You had spent the better part of the morning trying to come up with something more eloquent to write, but you’ve never been great with words. Telling the mysterious person your story had been the only time you’d ever felt as though your words matched your thoughts, that what came out of your mouth was exactly how you felt, and that the person you were talking to understood you fully.

You suppose a thank you is better than nothing, and after one last fond look at the shrine, you turn to go.

A footstep that is not your own echoes down the alleyway. You turn, half-alarmed, but relax at once when you see who it is.

You have only ever seen him once before, about a month ago when you told him your story, but he is difficult to forget; his figure tall and thin, his posture horrendous, his features hidden entirely by a long coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He stands now at the far end of the alleyway, hands clutched before his hunched torso, giving you the distinct impression he’s staring directly at you.

“Um, hello,” you say, haltingly. You’re not quite sure how to address him, but you figure a polite greeting is universal. You gesture at the shrine. “I don’t have, uh, another story or anything. I was just leaving a note for you.”

His hat tips curiously to the side, and he shuffles forward with his cautious gait, peering closer at the shrine. The dark brim of his hat swivels towards you, as though asking a question.

“The shrine,” you say. “I just left a short note. It’s no big thing, I just—I wanted to leave something.”

The words seem to mean nothing to him. He looks at the shrine, then at you, then back at the shrine. He steps a bit closer to it, and reaches out a long-fingered, gloved hand to touch the petals from a bouquet of daffodils. After the briefest of moments, he pulls away again, hands resuming their wringing.

A thought occurs to you. “Do you . . . do you not know what this is?”

He shakes the hat once.

“This is . . . this is for you,” you say, spreading your arms to encompass the garden on the ground and the sea of pages above. “The flowers, the little trinkets, the thank-you letters—it’s for you. From . . . from all of us, who’ve told you our stories. You’ve helped us so much, we wanted to let you know how much we appreciated it. How grateful we are.”

He doesn’t react, and so you reach out and pick out a card, one that says, Talking to you about how scared I was of the dark made me less afraid of it. I sleep better at night because of what you did for me. Thank you, mysterious stranger. Much love, E.M.

“Here,” you say, handing it to him, and he takes it with a shaky glove. The brim of his hat lowers as he reads. "That’s just one of them. There are loads more just like that.” You survey the pile and pick out another. “This one’s from a kid, thanking you for helping their mom . . . And this one’s just a simple thank you note but they did cover it in glitter glue, so, there’s that . . . And this person wanted you to know that their anxiety improved after talking to you . . .”

He takes note after note from you, reading them all, silent and unexpressive as always, but there’s something in his posture that is unbearably human. Somehow it reminds you of how people stand when they hold a baby chick in their hands.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” you say, not unkindly. You’re both sitting on the ground now, amidst the bouquets and piles of thank-yous. “Who else would this all be for?”

As he picks up yet another note, a tremor runs through his body. He raises a gloved hand to the shadows beneath the hat, and you watch as two drops of water stain the page in his hand. His chest convulses as more tears fall, his hand moving under the hat to wipe them away, but they keep coming. Still he makes no sound.

You didn’t know he could cry. You don’t know why you’re surprised; he’s strange, certainly, and perhaps not entirely human . . . but he has heard so many horrible things, and human or not, he deserves a chance to cry.

“Are you—are you okay?” you say, not sure what to do.

The hat nods once, and then shakes.

“I . . . I know it’s probably a lot, all at once,” you say, and you reach out to touch his arm. The movement comes naturally, without much thought; you would have done the same for a friend.

He flinches at your touch, and you immediately pull away, but then he relaxes again, and nods. Tears are still falling from the shadows down onto his coat.

You touch his arm again, gently, and he doesn’t move away. “I’m sorry if it’s overwhelming. But we really are grateful, and you have a bad habit of not accepting thanks. This was one of the only ways we could think to . . . to show you.” You take a deep breath, and gaze into the shadows of where his face might be, doing your best to look him in the eye. “We don’t really know who you are, or why you came here, or why you choose to listen to us. But somehow, we know you mean well. I think everyone who’s told their story knows that, me included. That you’re trying to help us, that you want to do good. And you do. We . . . we want you to know that you’ve done good.”

His chest rises and falls shakily, and though he still makes no sound you swear you can hear a sob. He reaches out and grasps your arm in turn, and suddenly you realize what he needs.

“Can I give you a hug?” you ask.

The hat nods, again and again, and you open your arms, and he falls forward. You would have done the same for a friend.

You almost expect the hug to be gentle, but it is not; it is tight and desperate, and feels so human you do not think twice about hugging him back just as tightly. He is not terribly warm, but you can feel a heart beating beneath his coat. A few tears fall on the back of your jacket. You know that if you just looked up, you would be able to see his face beneath the hat, but you keep your eyes shut tight.

When you move apart, a few moments later, he seems a little more composed, and no more tears fall from beneath the hat. He straightens his back a bit, growing taller even in a sitting position, and you can see just the barest hint of a mouth, which is smiling a delicate, wobbly sort of smile. He brings a gloved hand up to his chin, placing his fingertips against it, and moves them towards you, once, twice.

You are by no means fluent in sign language, but you recognize the sign for Thank you when you see it.

You smile back at him. “You’re welcome,” you say.

He looks back at the shrine, at the piles and piles of notes he has yet to read. You watch as he picks up a handful more, seemingly at random, shuffling them in his hands and pressing them close to his chest. After a pause, he reaches out and slowly picks up one of the bouquets, overflowing with small blue flowers. You’re not entirely sure, but you think they might be forget-me-nots. He pulls a single flower from the bunch and tucks it, carefully, into the collar of his coat, as though for safekeeping.

He nods once, satisfactorily, and stands slowly, giving a small bow in your direction before he turns and shuffles back down the alleyway, the bushel of blue flowers peeking over his shoulder, rustling in the breeze.

Just before he is swallowed by the shadows at the far end of the Close, you call out, “Thank you! Again. For . . . for everything.”

It’s certainly just a trick of the light, but when he turns back to look at you, just before the shadows overtake him, you swear you can see the light catch on a single, twinkling eye, crinkled in one corner by what must be a smile.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #gwyneth writes

472 notes · View notes

pasteljeon · 4 years

Text

sincerely, yours (m)

summary: in which you return to an apartment full of 7 horny boyfriends.

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings: pining, dirty talk, heavy petting, sexual tension

length: 2.9k

notes: this is another blm commission written for the amazing @/himbeaux-joon. thank you so much for your support and donation! i hope you enjoy n forgive me for the wait.

“You’re fucked.”

You pull your phone away from your ear out of pure disbelief. Squinting at the screen, you’re assured you’re speaking to the right person when your friend’s name peers back at you.

“Sorry?”

She said it so casually and offhandedly you do a double take. Your luggage rolls noisily behind you, a hefty and rather rickety thing, though you don’t quite have the heart to rid of it just yet. It has character, stickers and stamps collected from your various travels scattered on the cover. Some are fraying and others greying and half-peeled. Some are new, recently added to the collection and sparkle almost obnoxiously next to your dying ones.

“You are so fucked,” she laughs. It’s less of a laugh and more of a cackle. You check your phone again. Still her.

“Are you going to elaborate on that?” You say dryly as you finally wheel yourself out of customs. The last month has been hectic, your job and position requiring you to fly overseas for the past three weeks. You would think your boys would have been used to the asynchronistic nature of your schedules considering how busy they usually are, but they did finish the last leg of their tour just as you left. Your company offered another two weeks of paid vacation is a thank-you for the generous contract you just signed. Your boys protested and pouted but you took it, adamant about finally taking that much needed break.

They reluctantly let you go, faking tears but understanding, their jobs equally as, if not more, stressful.

“Nope.” She pops the p with some dark sense of satisfaction, and you repress the shiver that crawls down your spine. “But I can say it’s a good type of fucking. You know, the one where you bend Jungkook over the—”

“Okay, got it, thank you,” you cut her off hastily, holding a hand over the speaker to muffle her voice that rises into a sing-song, glancing around discreetly to ensure no one’s eavesdropped over your rather scandalous conversation.

“You ever notice how whiny your boys can get when you’re away?” She teases when you return to the line. Rummaging in your purse for some change, you scan the airport café for some iced coffee, chuckling, “Yes. You have no idea.”

“You know all the boys have a chat exclusive for their very not safe for work thoughts?” she tells you. It makes you choke and laugh simultaneously, the cashier eyeing you strangely as he takes your order.

“I don’t know how they make it sounds so hot,” your friend continues blandly. “Normally it sounds so greasy. But they’re usually so well-behaved and polite. I was so shocked. I had no idea that Jimin liked—”

You yelp, staring down at your shirt. Luckily, it’s dark enough to hide the stain, so you mop it up sheepishly, thanking the server who offers you some napkins, clucking sympathetically.

“What?” You hissed, pulling to the side. You’re whisper-shouting into your phone now. “They did what?”

“Oh, you didn’t know? Didn’t Rhys tell you? He was rolling all over about it,” she snickers. You splutter. Rhys is a close friend to the both of you, and often spent nights gaming with Jungkook and Taehyung. You knew your boys had a group chat with your other male friends but … “But they’re usually so polite,” you exclaim.

Your friend clicks her tongue. “Cue exhibit A. Anyway, good luck girl. You’re gonna need it.” Without waiting for your reply, she ends the call, her cackles cutting off into an odd ringing in your ear.

“Oh dear,” you say to yourself, staring down at your drink. “What am I walking into?”

Your friend’s call is lousy warning, if you’re going to be honest.

Only the maknaes are able to pick you up from the airport, with the remainder of the boys caught up in the photoshoot. They were able to wrap up before your flight landed.

They’re a ball of hazed energy. Dressed casually, face masked and caps donned, they somehow manage to blend in with the crowd of receivers. Your breath catches. In the short time away, you’ve forgotten just how little justice pictures and videos do for them. They’re beautiful.

They watch you like hawks, glazed eyes dark and you’re genuinely a little concerned for Taehyung. The outline of his length presses insistently against his black slacks, but he pays no attention, half-lidded as he peers at you through thick lashes. You’re shocked no one’s carded him for public indecency yet. The image alone is enough to make your core to clench.

There’s no fanfare, no glee, no innocent excitement, no cheerful, “noona!” you expected from the youngest. Instead, Jungkook silently reaches over to relieve you of your luggage, fingers grazing your palm. He pulls down his mask to kiss the corner of your mouth. He visibly tears himself away, and you can see the way his veins pop under the pressure, jaw clenching hard. Electricity sparks down your spine, making you shiver.

“Heart. Welcome back,” Taehyung rumbles as he tips your chin up. His voice is more of a growl, the sound reverberates from his chest, low and incredibly sexy it makes goosebumps rise on your skin.

“I missed you,” Jimin pushes his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. He catches your hand when you reach for him, steadying your shaky knees. You clutch at the sleeve of his turtleneck, his palm cupping the back of your head as his nose skims the column of your throat.

“G-guys, we’re in public,” you manage in a faint whisper, and Jimin’s grip tightens briefly before he reluctantly pulls away. Jungkook takes your other hand, Taehyung leading the way to the car.

They brush your concern off easily, not even bothering to scan their surroundings in case anyone’s recognized them. You do a cursory sweep anyway, but find the airport still relatively empty, the crowd occupied with their own arrivals. Suddenly, you’re once again struck with a profound sense of appreciation for Namjoon’s forever careful scheduling of your flights so this could be possible.

The underground parking lot is quiet, and you exchange no words as Jungkook’s Mercedes comes into view.

The sexual tension is, as they say, palpable.

You move to follow Jimin into the backseat, but Jungkook grabs your wrist, twirling you around. The cool metal meets your heated skin for a brief moment before he pulls you close. “Noona,” he murmurs, bringing your arm to his lips. He fastens his mouth over your pulse point, suckling gently. His lashes tickle your inner wrist.

“Jungkook,” you say breathily, his leg coming to push your thighs apart. You nearly collapse onto him, and he releases you with an agonized sigh. The mark blooms darkly, and he lets out a long exhale.

“Gguk.” There’s a warning in his tone.

“I know,” the maknae bites back. He lets you down slowly, hungry gaze raking over your form one last time before he lets Taehyung help you into the car.

He walks to the driver’s side, forehead pressing against the hood fleetingly before sliding into the seat. It does nothing to settle the heat stirring in his stomach. He can’t bring himself to regret it, though, despite the way his pants dig into his hard cock.

Just a little longer. His fingers grip the wheel tightly, knuckles whitening as he pulls out of the lot.

They can hardly keep their hands off of you, glued to your side the entirety of the ride back.

Jungkook wants to scream out of pure frustration. He can hardly concentrate, though it is the crack of dawn and traffic is sparse.

He can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick sounds of your makeout sessions. He resists the urge to check the rear-view mirror for the nth time. He knows one glance is enough to make his thighs clench.

He hears your soft, melodic sighs between kisses, lips likely beautifully swollen and plump from their coaxing. He knows that Taehyung is sweet, and that Jimin is eager, a little rough. It's downright pornographic. His eye twitches.

“Mmm, Chim,” you mewl.

That's it. He growls. “Guys, knock it off. Otherwise we’re taking her in the back of my car.”

“Wouldn't be such a bad idea,” Taehyung murmurs, and Jungkook risks a glimpse, only to see Taehyung mouthing at your neck, one hand down your pants. You're a vision, sprawled on Jimin's lap, head tossed back against his neck. Back arched, shirt halfway unbuttoned, bra peeking out and hair disheveled.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook barks. He’s a second away from breaking the wheel. Red light. He watches Taehyung suck a blooming flower against your neckline. He pulls away reluctantly to admire it.

“It's fine,” Jimin pipes up, and Jungkook swears he pops a vessel with the way the older slides a hand up to cup your breast, thumbing your peaks from under the silken material. “We're here.”

The maknae parks the car hastily, all too relieved to be home. He practically yanks the hinges off the passenger door open. Jimin groans, almost falling flat on his ass at the sudden momentum. “Jeon!”

“Sorry,” he mutters, stepping aside for Jimin to step out. Jungkook catches you, stumbling with trembling legs and poorly adjusted shirt. He sweeps you into his arms without another thought, moving briskly towards the entrance. His strength makes you squirm in his hold, clutching his tensed bicep.

“Smell so good,” he groans, and he has to pause at the door, letting you down only to pin you against the glass, kissing you hard.

“Taste so good,” he pants, unable to stop himself from grinding against you. He wants you close, craves you. Your hands snake under his shirt, pushing it up impatiently to flatten your palm against his toned stomach, the other fumbling with his belt.

The sound of the leather and metal coming undone makes him hiss, hips jerking. “Sensitive baby,” you murmur teasingly, fingers digging into his v-line. Jungkook’s breath stutters, cock throbbing unwittingly.

“I’m going to lose my mind,” he moans, slumping onto you as you give his clothed length a tentative squeeze. He’s so incredibly hard it’s painful. The blood rushing to his dick is making him dizzy, a little breathless.

Before you can reply, the door is abruptly wrenched open. You gasp, Jungkook nearly toppling over, but he braces you under his arm, catching you easily.

“Told you he wouldn’t make it in before he succumbed.” You look up to see Hoseok gazing down at you with those strong brows of his, studying you with an intensity that has your body flushing with heat again. Even upside down he’s gorgeous beyond reason.

Jungkook flips you back up, and Hoseok’s lips quirk when he catches you floundering.

“Bet he came in his pants.” Namjoon walks forward, hands in his pockets and his tone is casual, like he’s discussing the menu from your favourite diner.

“Colour me shocked the neighbours haven’t carded the two of you for public indecency,” Yoongi drawls, smirking when Jungkook blushes darkly.

“I’m going to develop abandonment issues if you keep forgetting about us like that.” Jungkook rubs his neck, embarrassed, as Taehyung and Jimin step in with mirroring looks of disgruntlement. Taehyung walks over, lips quirking wryly as you slide your arms over his neck.

“Don’t tease,” you chastise, but he ignores you in lieu of pulling you close, swaying slightly to the sound of his quiet humming. His hands are hot, burning through the thin material of your shirt as he presses you flush against his body.

“Romantic,” you whisper, smiling. Taehyung smiles too, eyes still closed.

“Welcome back, beautiful.” You startle at the sound, but smile at the familiar voice, leaning into his touch. Taehyung allows you to slip from his hold, the newcomer twirling you around.

“Hi, Jin,” you say shyly, biting your lip. Seokjin beams, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Missed you so much,” he says softly. “Was about to lose my sanity if you were away any longer.”

You laugh aloud, and Seokjin looks a little awestruck at the sound, watching you with that soft, adoring look in his eyes. “I thought you would’ve enjoyed the peace while I was gone.”

“Hardly. I was left in a house full of horny kids. The testosterone levels were crazy,” he sighs dramatically. “Pass.”

Somewhere in the background, Namjoon snorts. “Please, hyung. You act like you weren’t jacking off three times a day to her pictures.”

Seokjin squeaks, Hoseok roaring in laughter. Jungkook claps a hand to his mouth, trying and failing to hide his mirth, sexual tension momentarily forgotten.

You loop your arms around his neck with a coy smile. “Is this true, Jinnie?”

“Don’t tease me,” he mumbles into your neck. He feels the shaking of your silent giggles and groans. “I hate you, Joon.”

“If it helps, I’m flattered, you know. And the feeling is mutual, in case you were wondering,” you whisper to him.

“It wasn’t just that,” Seokjin grumbles, glancing away as the tips of his ears darken. “I always want you around. You’re my home, you know.”

Your heart swells, fingers tingling. “Jin,” you say softly, cupping his cheeks. He looks everywhere but at you, complexion mirroring a tomato alarmingly fast. Seokjin, who can dish out sweetness but never take it, mood maker but so shy. Seokjin, who is kind and charming and gorgeous and has a big, beautiful heart.

“I love you so much,” you whisper. He looks at you wonderingly, as if mystified by such an all-encompassing sentiment.

“___ … You have no idea how much I adore you,” Seokjin breathes, a little giddy, a little lightheaded by that fond, warm expression you’re regarding him with.

“Not more than me.” The two of you jump at the sound, jolted from your secluded bubble, to see, shockingly, Yoongi pouting behind the eldest. The composer has his arms crossed, brows knitted and cheeks puffed out.

“Did you forget about us again,” Yoongi says, petulant. You and Seokjin look at one another, stunned, before bursting into laughter.

Namjoon and Hoseok join the rapper, crowding the two of you from the sides, sporting similarly roguish grins. Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook share a mischievous look, squishing in close.

“Guys,” Seokjin complains, broad shoulders being quashed by the sheer force of Jungkook’s biceps. Your face is pressed uncomfortable tight against his – impossibly solid and strong – chest.

“Can’t – breathe,” you yelp, voice muffled. A hand grabs your wrist and pops you from the throng.

“Hello again,” Hoseok grins.

“Hoseokie,” you gasp, a little winded but still incredibly grateful for a breath of fresh air, something the dancer himself seems to embody.

“Sunshine,” he says happily, reaching for you. Before he can wrap himself around you, Namjoon comes slamming in, dimples and all.

“As much as I’ve enjoyed our little reunion, my dick is hard and throbbing and the obscene amount of times I’ve simultaneously cried and jacked off to the sound of your voice is absurd, my cock should’ve wilted at the pure ferocity and angst I’ve poured onto the poor thing, and I am beyond ecstatic to have you back – so much so that I need to rail you against the our skyline balcony, lest I implode within the next two minutes. So! Let’s move to the bedroom, shall we?” Namjoon says matter-of-factly.

“Good idea,” Hoseok beams, completely unfazed by their leader’s rather lewd confession as he scoops you up easily, your boyfriends quickly following suit.

Hoseok sets you down onto the centre of the king-sized bed, silk sheets bunching beneath you as you sprawl over them. You move to sit up on your elbows, but Jungkook hovers over you, pressing you down instantly.

His dark eyes rake over your form unabashedly, one hand popping the surviving buttons of your top and the other pulling off his shirt.

“Greedy maknae.” Jungkook readily ignores Seokjin’s disgruntled mutter in the background as he leans down kiss you.

“Missed your taste,” he murmurs. Your hand trails down his bare chest, retracing every memorized groove and dip of his unfairly gorgeous body.

“Jungkook.” He tears himself away, panting heavily, to glance at Namjoon, who sends him a warning look.

“Don’t be selfish,” the rapper chastises. Jungkook drops his gaze to where you lay splayed out beneath him, hair mussed and lips swollen, chest heaving as you recover from his ministrations.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound apologetic at the least. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, growling once before he slides off.

“You’re in for a long night, beautiful,” Hoseok tells you, cupping your face and thumbing your cheek slowly, revelling the heat that tinges your skin. “You have no idea how much we’ve missed you. And not just this.”

“I missed you all too,” you whisper, smile soft.

Yoongi closes the door.

Your phones blow up the entire night, left collectively buzzing beneath the couch cushions.

[03:21] rhys: damn, y’all still banging? it’s been 4 days

[04:28] rhys: i need a gf

“Mmm. Tickles.”

“Good morning, gorgeous.” You smile into the pillow, eyes still closed, turning your head to the side expectantly. You know your expression is a little blissful, and you hear his fond chuckle.

“Love you,” you mumble. Someone presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Love you too, heart.”

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #btsghostie #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jimin x reader #jimin smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #ot7 x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut

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multi-maker · 3 years

Text

— lantern rite.

perhaps it was the way your eyes shone so beautifully, the orange light of the lanters making your eyes seemingly glimmer. or perhaps it was the way your lips curled into a breathtaking smile. or perhaps, it was the way your hands fit snugly into his.

what xiao knew, was that he, the guardian yaksha of liyue, one of the adeptus, was hopelessly, utterly, in love.

note. here’s a short fic about xiao as my gift for all of you for your constant support towards anemo and i~! an event is comingg up soon so please wait patiently for it hehe~!

Xiao didn’t dabble in mortal affairs that much.

Humans were troublesome, fragile, and Xiao hated it whenever he was forced to interact with them. He may be protecting them, defeating the demons that threatened to rise, clearing out monster camp after monster camp, but he loathed interacting with them.

Until you came.

Xiao could remember it clear as a day - when you first bursted into his life with whirlwinds of emotions and a tendency to go overboard. You wore a bright smile, eyes teasing yet kind as you proudly offered him almond tofu. He remembers asking you, for the first time, what was it for? What did you need, to go to the Guardian Yaksha?

Your answer left him baffled.

“Because you looked hungry,” You replied to him back then, smile unfaltering. “Adepti’s do not get hungry.” He says slowly, his mind not proccessing your words very carefully. You scoffed back then, rolling your eyes at him. You were lucky he was in a good mood or he would have thrown you off of Wangshu Inn for the blatant disrespect.

“Come on! You need food from time to time as well.” You told him, offering him the dish once again. Xiao takes one look at you - Streaked with ash from your battle and hands calloused and worn from wielding your weapon, and eyes bright from adventure - and Xiao decides, that this human was eccentric.

You kept coming back.

Even when Xiao told you to get lost becauze humans cannot stay in the presence of Adepti’s for too long. You still came back. Whether it be holding another plate of Almond Tofu or just ranting to him about how annoying Dendro Slimes were, Xiao appeared every time you called him.

It was quite wholesome - To see the Guardian Yaksha appear after you just call his name.

When Rex Lapis died, and when the Adepti were forced to meet with the Liyue Qixing, Xiao forgot about you for a while.

Until Osial attacked - and he was reminded of you.

Xiao snapped his head back to Liyue Harbor, desperately wishing that you were alive and well. Perhaps it was a foolish wish, but he hoped you weren’t reckless enough to charge at elite trained Fatui. He knew though, that you were far from cowardly. The moment you’ll see an enemy, you wouldn’t hesitate to strike them down.

Xiao could only hope you will stay alive.

——————————————————————————

Thankfully, you weren’t stupid enough to fight elite Fatui members, just as what Xiao hoped.

You were still stupid enough to stick with him, though.

(Xiao ignores how relieved he was when he saw you climbing Wangshu Inn with your usual bright grin. He ignores how your teasing laughter brought something warm bloom in his ice cold heart.)

“Are you going to the Lantern Rite Festival?” You ask him curiously when all has settled down, your colored orbs staring at him. Xiao crosses his arms. “No. I am an Adeptus and I cannot linger in the crowd of humans far too long.” He responded, amber eyes stealing a glance at you.

Your face was downcast, a frown playing on your lips. “What is the matter?” He asks you with a raised eyebrow. You huff, glancing away from him. “I was...Hoping we could see the lanterns together.” You mumble out, your cheeks puffed out. Xiao stares at you - surprise in his face. You wanted to go with him of all people?

You snap your head towards him when he let out some kind of inhumane sound. His face was turned away from yours, as he lets out a cough. “Apologies. I...choked.” He finished lamely, clearing his throat. You were about to ask him if he would like for you to fetch him water, when you see it.

His ears were red.

A grin slowly formed on your lips, and you turned to look at him. You propped your fist against your cheek, a teasing grin on your lips as your eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh?” You smirked, eyeing him. “Is the mighty Guardian Yaksha flustered~?” You sing song, and Xiao snapped his head towards you.

Indignation painted all over his face, you couldn’t stop the amused laughter bubble out of your mouth. “Ah! Xiao, I wasn’t...I’m sorry!” You choke out a laugh, clutching your sides. You let out another burst of laughter, remembering his face.

Unbeknownst to you, Xiao lets himself stare.

You laughed so beautifully.

Your hair framed your scrunched up face, eyes crinkling and cheeks burning due to your laughter. You once commented to him that you hated your laugh, seeing it too loud or rowdy.

Xiao loved it.

Your laughter died down, resorting into small chuckles and giggles before your fingers came up to wipe away the tears that formed on your eyes. “Ah, I’m...I’m so sorry. I couldn’t help it.” You choke, another fit of giggles escaping you.

“Are you done?” Xiao grumpily asks you, but if he was honestly annoyed then he would have long thrown you off of the balcony. This, you knew. You wave your hand around, giggling. “Anyway...You really aren’t going to the Lantern Rite?” You ask him, tilting your head.

Xiao shakes his head, his amber eyes holding some sort of faraway look in it. “No. I won’t be going to the festival.” He answers you, firmly. “Why?” You press him, a frown on place. “Too many humans.” He responded, glancing at you.

You hum in reply, before turning to look at the scene before the two of you. For a while, silence fell on the two of you. Xiao took this moment to admire you in his peripheral vision, taking in the way your hair danced in the breeze and how the stars reflected on your eyes.

“Will you come, if I prepare something?” You suddenly ask him, making Xiao startle. He looks at you fully this time, and you face him as well. Your face was curious yet determined, eyebrow raised and waiting for his answer.

Xiao opens his mouth to say no, to deny you of your wish because he really shouldn’t be getting close you. He was a Yaksha, and you were human.

“...Perhaps.” Was all he said. That was seemingly enough for you, when your eyes lit up and your smile took over. “I’m holding you to that, Guardian Yaksha!” You tease, before you started running out. “Where are you going?” He calls you, surprised. You whip your head towards him, and you grin.

“To make you experience the best festival, of course!”

Then, you were gone.

Xiao stares at where you stood moments before, amber eyes wide with surprise. “Xiao, you are an idiot.” He says to no one in particular, his gloved hands clenching and unclenching. “...I said perhaps. So they will not be mad if I don’t show up, right?” He mutters, nodding decisively.

He won’t show up. That’s a promise to himself.

He showed up.

Xiao was ready to retreat into the night when the first signs of festivites were about to close and the lanterns lit up. But then.

But then, the wind carried your whisper of his name.

Gritting his teeth and blaming himself and you for his sudden weakness, Xiao went to where you were. He looks around, at the hill where your figure waved at him excitedly. It was a hill overlooking Liyue and it’s waters, isolated enough for him but he could still see the lanterns.

Bedgrudingly, he climed the hill with no difficulty. His eyes meet yours, who waved at him excitedly. “You actually came!” You chirp, grinning. You were sitting on a blanket laid on the grassy field, a basket besides you. With Xiao’s enhanced senses, he could smell the scent of Almond Tofu.

“Hm.” Was all he said in response, before coming to a stop next to you. He was about to tell you that he should go back and that he really didn’t wanna see this, when your hand clasped around his and brought him down.

Xiao yelped in surprise as he was forced to sit sown next to you, personal space be damned. He opened his mouth to retort, to tell you to let him go when you pointed at the sky with childlike excitement twinkling in your eyes. “Xiao, look! It’s so pretty!” You coo, a bright and awe’d smile on your lips. Hesitantly, Xiao let his eyes follow to where you were pointing.

It took Xiao’s breath as well.

The lanterns floated gently across the night sky, illuminating the dark abyss with twinkling lights. The lanterns reflected on the dark waters as well, lighting Liyue up with it’s brightness.

“Look, Xiao.” Your voice was suddenly soft, and he snapped out of his trance to look at you. You were smiling at him gently, eyes twinkling. “Liyue is like this because of you as well. You might not believe it, maybe you’ll never believe it, but if it weren’t for you as well, Liyue would never be what it is right now.” You told him genuinely, breaking your eye contact with him.

“You’ve spent eons watching over Liyue, protecting it’s people and fighting demons and monsters and gods for it. I think, you’ve done enough.”

Xiao’s breath hitched at your genuine words, his amber eyes stuck on your face. The lanterns reflected on your eyes, making it brighter and seemingly magical. You were smiling, in a way that had Xiao gasping for breath because of how beautiful it looked. Xiao falls silent, and his eyes trailed down to where you held his hand.

He startles when you suddenly squeezed his hand, and he looks up as you rip your gaze away from the floating lanterns to look at him.

“You’ve done well, Xiao. You can rest.”

Oh, Xiao thinks to himself as he watches you turn your gaze back st the floating lanterns. He watches as your lips curved, how your eyes twinkled, and how you held his hand firmly but he could pull away if he wished.

Is this what mortals call love? Xiao thinks as he drags his gaze to your interlocked hands.

He may never be truly clean - For he has done enough evil deeds to even be considered kind. He has slaughtered and he has eaten dreams.

But maybe this time, he can let himself happy.

For the first time, Xiao squeezes your hand back. You snapped your head to him in surprise, and what you got was Xiao staring at you, his amber eyes shining with gratefulness and love.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes widens at his soft voice, the sincerity behind his words and at how it seemingly made everything better. You curse yourself when your eyes watered, and you let a smile slip on your lips.

“...No problem, Xiao.”

And then Xiao’s lips curled as he looks up at the lanterns, and he thinks,

That maybe being in love wasn’t a bad thing.

#💫 dawn #genshin impact #dawn is currently crying #genshin impact scenarios #dawn is currently crying about xiao #genshin xiao #genshin impact xiao #genshin xiao x reader #xiao x reader #genshin liyue

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btsmosphere · 3 years

Note

i’d like to make a request for the drabble game^^ what happens to jack frost!yoongi and his y/n? do they go on fun wintry adventures or mess around with yoongi’s powers?

Frozen Sun - drabble from the Snowstorm universe

~pairing: yoongi x reader ~word count: 1.1k ~fluff, established relationship, jack frost au, magic au ~rating: g ~warnings: none

~a/n: thank you so much for your request! I haven't gone back to this fic in a while so it was super fun to 're-discover' it in a way😊I thought a lot about this one and of course I love the idea of Yoongi's powers with the wintry vibes, but I thought it would be fun to see it set in summer! I hope you enjoy it xx

Normally, you wouldn’t welcome an icy breeze when you were dressed solely in a vest a shorts. But even as the sudden relief from the summer heat faded, you simply smiled in response to the goosebumps seizing your limbs.

Jumping up from where you had been lying in bed, you began to grab other clothes from your closet. Behind you, the window swung rattling in the wind.

But you knew that this was no storm, no sign of a turn in the weather.

Opening your door quietly, you snuck on light feet down the stairs and grabbed your coat from beside the door. Stuffing your arms between its thick layers, you stepped out into the blazing sun. Either side of your driveway, the grass was yellowed and shrivelled from the long heatwave the town was currently enduring.

Again, the breeze blew past your face, taking with it strands of your hair. Grinning, you turned in the same direction and followed them.

“Yoongi!”

On the corner stood your boyfriend, dressed as impractically for heat as you, in all black. His white hair also ruffled in the chill wind, which you well knew was his own doing.

“You’re back!” you cried as you reached him at last.

Right away, you were jumping into his arms, eagerly pulling him to your embrace. He hugged you back fiercely. Since he had first realised he could touch you without causing you pain, your arms had been his solace, and he clutched your head to him, pressing a kiss there.

You had both been away at college, but now you were reunited, back in the town you grew up in. A few visits aside, this was the longest you had been able to spend together since winter.

“I’ve missed you,” he muttered into your hair, then pulled back with the beginnings of a smile. “I know I said I’d be here a bit earlier, but I have a surprise for you.”

Eyes lighting up, you bounced on the balls of your feet. At your response, his eyes creased as he cracked a gummy smile. Taking you by the hand, he wasted no time setting off, leading you towards the edge of the town.

Needless to say, Yoongi wasn’t a fan of the heat, and kept the wind circling around the pair of you as you walked a familiar route. A few more streets and the treetops of the forest could be seen peeking above the rooftops.

You both had a special place in your hearts for the forest beside this town. Walking between the welcoming trunks once again, you let your head fall against Yoongi’s shoulder with a soft smile.

Your heart leapt when he squeezed your hand tighter in response.

A little way on, you noticed the temperature drop even more.

Raising your head a little, you caught glimpses between the trees of something… glittering?

It wasn’t far before all was revealed to you. Passing a few more trees, you were near the furthest end of the forest now, and spread out before you was a mirror-smooth expanse of ice coating the ground.

“You made this?” you gasped, though of course you didn’t need to ask.

In the sun’s glare, a thin layer of water had melted on the surface of the ice, but Yoongi made quick work of refreezing it. With a wave of his hand, small ice crystals bloomed like ghostly flowers on its surface.

His hand dropped from yours, making you turn to him.

An adorable grin greeted you as he held a pair of ice skates in front of him.

“What do you think?”

“I love it!” you beamed, “…though I’m terrible at skating.”

His smile slipped into a smirk as he passed you the skates.

“All the better for me then.”

He was right. All the while, he let you clutch onto him: his hands, his arm, the back of his coat.

Unsurprisingly, he was a natural, gliding around with ease and laughter drifting behind him. The moment you assured him you were confident enough on your own, he spread his arms and summoned the wind, which carried him effortlessly away from you.

You gaped, protesting as his smug face wound swiftly away from you through the trees.

“Hey!” you called, trying to propel yourself in the same direction.

Still shaky, you stumbled and wobbled your way over with flailing arms. To be fair to you, you grew smoother, making it successfully to the first tree.

When you looked around, Yoongi was not in sight. The first place you looked was up, knowing his love of games and habit of hiding up trees.

No luck, so you went along with his game with a smile dancing on your lips. Your skates carved delicate lines of frost behind you as you rounded the corner where the ice ended. Still you were skating when you heard a familiar giggle drift past you on the breeze.

“Yoongi!” you laughed, spurred on to move faster.

But this time, you had miscalculated. Instead of grounding and pushing you off, your back foot skidded, blade jarring on the ice.

Yelping, you flung your arms out in front to balance you. But your counterbalance only sent you tripping forwards, unable to save yourself as you overbalanced, feeling your feet slide from under you with your blunder-

A gust of wind whipped at your face as you toppled. Somehow, the air seemed to curl around you with enough force to suspend you for a moment – before it was replaced by a real pair of arms.

You did meet the ice, but with barely an impact.

You had landed in Yoongi’s arms, leaving you huddled together, knelt on the ice.

Looking up, you met your boyfriend’s slightly worried eyes. They scanned you, looking for any sign of upset.

Quite the opposite, only a second passed before your head was thrown back with laughter. Relieved, Yoongi’s face cracked into a smile again. Together your laughter mingled among the trees as he patiently helped you to your feet, keeping a careful hold of your hands again.

“I knew you’d never run far off,” you smiled.

Pushing off again to glide across the sun-tinted ice rink, he tucked you against his side with a hug. Your smile spread further as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I always want to be near you.”

Thank you for reading!! Reblogs are the best way to support me if you enjoyed it💜and thank you again @littleflerken for your great request!

Taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @un2-verse @ddaechwita @taegularities

#thebtswritersclub #min yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #bts magic au #btscreatorscorner #bangtanarmynet #boyfriend yoongi #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #suga x reader #suga fluff #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #bts drabble #yoongi drabble #yoongi scenarios

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certifiedskywalker · 3 years

Text

Different This Time - Loki Laufeyson

You have been let down one too many times. After losing your home, your hope, and nearly your life, you’re all the more wary when it comes to falling back into Loki’s arms.

Was it blood? No, though, maybe. You brushed a soaked rag against your cheek and the splotch, whatever it was, was wiped clean. Dust, you hoped with a sigh.

Your shoulder fell with the breath. The ache in your muscles was finally starting to dull. Though, in the morning it would all come rushing back: Hela, Ragnarok, Asgard. Orange bursts of flame still danced behind your eyes when you closed them. Heat’s lingering kiss and the scent of soot were reminders enough; but memory would hold the image of your home, mid-explosion, forever.

You blinked back up to stare into the eyes of your reflection. Dark bags, bruises, and scattered scars made you more patchwork than Asgardian- could you even call yourself that anymore? Yes. The stars in your veins, the years you had spent fighting, gifted you that right, home or no home. It would just take getting used to; like the new tiredness in your expression.

A low knock at your door tore your attention away from your reflection. “It’s open.”

Silence greeted you first. For a moment, you thought that perhaps you imagined the sound. Maybe even wished for it, a welcomed distraction. Then the door to your quarters slowly slid open. You caught glimpses of pale skin and a flash of bright eyes before you felt your stomach twist.

“Not open for you.”

“Seems to open just fine.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at Loki’s retort before you turned your back to him. There was a light scraping sound, metal against metal, followed by quiet footfalls. Burning in your chest, the urge to turn back around and face Loki singed a hole in your heart. But you had been burned by him and his cold too many times before.

So, you stared back at your reflection and wiped the grime of battle from your skin. As you rubbed the rag along your face, you saw Loki’s figure, bathed in shadow, grow larger in the mirror. A chill followed him, reached out towards you and traced up your back. You closed your eyes to force a shiver that threatened to run up your spine.

“You look-”

“Tired. I’m tired,” you interrupted. As you spoke, you rubbed the cloth over your forehead. The white rag came back covered in dirt.

“I was going to say gorgeous.” Clangs of his feet against the metal floor of the ship grew louder and the cold more concentrated.

Warmth flooded your face and you let your eyes fall to the sink below the mirror. You took an unsteady breath, a vain attempt at calming your already fired nerves. When it failed to help, you threw the rag into the sink and spun around to face him.

Despite the shift in your stance and the anger apparent in your furrowed brow, Loki didn’t react. His blue eyes were fixed on you, your face, reading you like an old tome.

“Yes, gorgeous.”

“What do you want, Loki?” You asked in a huff.

“Do you want the polite answer or the forward answer?” You rolled your eyes and Loki let out a breathy chuckle. “I want to apologize.”

A laugh, unexpected and dry bubbled up your throat. It was short lived, bloomed out of your tiredness and shock. As quickly as you lost it, you caught your breath again and crossed your arms over your chest. When Loki stayed silent, you quirked a brow at him.

His lips were pressed in a pink line, eyes unblinking as he gauged your reactions.. Worry lines you hadn’t noticed before stood out against his pale skin. Loki looked older. At least older than a typical immortal, nearly ageless being could look.

“You’re serious?”

“Deadly,” he replied and the surprise made your crossed arms fall to your sides. “I understand that I am not...the most trustworthy individual-”

“Yeah, you could say that,” you said, unable to stop the lashing of your tongue. Loki nodded and sighed before he met your eyes.

“I know that I’ve hurt you, Y/N. I will never know how much, but I have felt the pain of being apart. Of being away from you.” Loki dared to step closer to you as he spoke. The cold that always followed him now embraced you.

You hands curled into fists to fight it and you shook your head. “No, no you haven’t.”

“You can’t tell me how I’ve felt, how I feel,” Loki protested as he took another step towards you. “I’ve missed you, terribly.”

“Then why do you always leave,” you said through gritted teeth. Loki tilted back, dark brows furrowed at your words. “I came back.”

“This time,” you countered. You pushed yourself off of the sink and leaned towards him. “You come back, linger long enough to give me hope, then leave. I am-I’m so tired, Loki.”

Quiet fell over you, between you. There it nestled like an old friend come home. You and Loki welcomed it as you stared into each other’s eyes. Suddenly, he took a step back, towards the door, and you had to tear your eyes away. You knew your heart couldn’t bear the heaviness of seeing Loki leave again. When silence remained, you looked back up him.

“It’s different this time.”

His blue eyes were cold but not due to darkness. There was a cold firmness in his face that reached up from his planted feet to his steely gaze. The only breaking you saw in his posture was in his shaking hands as they grasped yours. Warmth and coldness mingled in his palms, two sides to his strange bloodline. Despite the strangeness, his touch was familiar and threw you back to simpler days.

“How can I prove that to you? Please.” At his plea, you lifted your gaze from your joined hands to his eyes. Panic glinted in his irises. “Tell me, darling, please.”

You were not sure what drove you to answer. Perhaps it was the tiredness; the fresh loss of your homeland and the yearning for something familiar. Loki was familiar and, in all his coldness, warm as Asgard once was. Or maybe it was the tone of his voice: low, wanting, and desperate. He had never been desperate for you before. He had never said please before.

“Stay.”

Loki let out a trembling breath. “For as long as you want me to,” he promised.

And, even if he broke that promise, let it die clutched between your joined hands, you were content with the moment. How easy it was to fall back into him, let your lips find his as you both waded through the quiet towards each other. Whether he stayed for years or would leave within the hour, you would savor the closeness no matter how long it lasted.

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

i have been laughing for like an hour at that one post about Macaque with hiccups so. what if like. drabble about that with idk prompts number 9 and 72 i guess???

Anon, you have NO IDEA how much I loved this post by @animemoonprincess , I have been wanting to write something using this idea for so long. I just wanted to write silly goofy "Mac can't control his powers when he has hiccups" fic for a while and this was so much fun!

How long have you been standing there?/Don’t you dare.

"And... how long as this been going on?" Pigsy asked, torn between shaking his head in disbelief and worry and holding back laughter at the sight before him. He honestly felt kinda bad for wanting to laugh, but after all the stunts the immortal monkey had put himself and his friends through... he allowed himself a few chuckles.

"Three-hic-HOURS!" Macaque snapped, laying flat on his chest and gripping the sides of the table in front of him with a scowl. "I can't take i-hic-it anymore, you have to have some-hic-thing to make them STOP!"

Each hiccup made Macaque's tail bristle and fluff up, as if each one startled him, and made his glamor glitch awkwardly. If that was the best way to put it.

"Mac, you look miserable," Mei said, holding back her own laughter as she looked up something on her phone.

"I am," he said, uncharacteristic honest for the moment... but then again, it wasn't like he could hide this fact.

"Don't I know that feeling," MK offered in solidarity, patting the immortal monkey on the back and wincing when another stronger hiccup made Macaque jump.

They had all wondered why he was wearing a cloak and avoiding them for the last hour when he finally showed his face, only hearing the hiccups coming from him and seeing the way he jumped ever so slightly with them. He'd stayed as close to light as much as he could, very unusual for himself, and tried to just go about what his initial mission was (which was apparently getting some ice water in the hopes it would help alleviate his symptoms).

And then he has hiccuped just a little too hard at the wrong moment and managed to fall through Sandy's shadow and into the lower levels of the drone ship.

To say they were all grateful the ship wasn't flying at the moment and that he was on the upper level was an understatement... even if he would have survived the fall. Being immortal the way he was.

Right now he was in the ship's kitchen with the rest of their little group (minus Wukong who had seemingly vanished to... wherever it was he liked to hide), gripping the table as stated before to presumably not fall through a misplaced shadow again in the overly brought room, and looking... well...

He was blue. Literally, his hair had turned blue. Then he hiccuped and it became an odd shade that looked like his own mixed with stripes of Wukong's hair color. His eye that had a glamor over it changed color every other hiccup as well, and so did the color of his outfit (though he didn't normally have a glamor over that he couldn't control what glamors were put up or taken down it seemed).

The next hiccup was followed by a soft whimper of frustration as his two ears became six before their eyes. And that... made Pigsy pause.

"Does this hurt you?" Sandy took the initiative to ask, raising an eyebrow of concern.

Whatever laugher was about to bubble up from the group surrounding Macaque paused instantly once he brought up the possibility. MK in particular paused, a look of realization and slight guilt dawning on his face.

"No..." Macaque started slowly, seeming to think over his next words carefully before he sighed in defeat and face planted into the table. "But -hic-... it is very -hic- uncomfortable," the other admitted after, his ears changing color from completely normal to a rainbow on either side. "Imagine feeling the -hic- chest spasms but in what-hic-ever part of your body changes. And it's -hic- really tiring to have my -hic- powers activate like this."

Well... that was actually moderately concerning. Not dangerous sounding, exactly, but Pigsy could imagine how much this was affecting the other when the last hiccup made whatever glamor over the dark circles under his eyes fade away. They all knew that Macaque was hardly sleeping but this...

"Well," Mei said cheerily, jumping up from her seat and waving her phone. "I have a few idea on how we can get rid of these that are less dangerous than finding a rare flower that blooms under very specific circumstances. What have you tried already?"

To say they had been unsuccessful was an understement. They’d tried nearly everything they could think of.

Macaque had tried holding his breathe again, breathing exercises, drinking the ice water he had left his room to get. Sandy had suggested compressing his chest with his knees, but that hadn't worked either. Pigsy had brought him some ice to chew on with much the same result.

Mei's idea of eating a lemon slice or swallowing a spoonful of sugar, while creative, were even less well received when they did not work. There were other methods she found online that she immediately vetoed, no one wanted to anger the immortal by attempting to tickle them away (not after his snarled "Don’t you dare.")

MK's attempt at scaring them away was... laughable. Literally, instead of scaring Macaque the young man just sent him into a fit of laughter that only seemed to make him both even more exhausted and grateful for the short bit of amusement.

"Well now what?" Tang asked, checking off each attempt on a sheet of paper. "We've tried almost everything."

Macaque hiccuped again, groaning in exhaustion and covering one of his eyes with his cloak hood up to hide... whatever was on his face he didn't want anyone to see. No one said anything about it, the sight of the other making them just feel too bad for him to push the issue for the moment.

"Maybe if I pass out from -hic- exhaustion they'll stop," he almost slurred, leaning even harder against the table. He had been dealing with this for 4 hours with little to no relief sight. He looked awful. "Just let me pass -hic- out."

"No way!" Pigsy said firmly, helping Mei look up more cures on her phone. "What if they don't stop? You could fall through the floor again and we are not having-!"

Pigsy never got to finish that sentence because one second Macaque was alone at the table looking miserable.

The next Wukong was standing behind him and jabbed two of his fingers on either side of his neck.

"WHAT THE HELL!?" Macaque snapped after a yell of pain, breathing heavy as he clutched his chest and glowered at the Monkey King. "How long have you been standing there, Wukong!?"

"Only long enough to know that all of you didn't see me," Wukong said with a smirk, gesturing with his hand to the other immortal. "Hmn... sounds... awful quiet now... don't you think?"

Macaque paused, a look of confusion crossing his face before he realized... he wasn't hiccuping anymore. He stayed quiet for a moment, everyone did...

And no sound came aside from everyone's breathing.

"That actually worked!" MK shouted in relief, moving to hug Macaque in his excitement before realizing who he was hugging and letting go with an awkward chuckle.

"I know it's been centuries," Wukong said, face softening with a sad smile as his words continued. "But I remembered that worked for you... back then. You could have asked me for help, Mango."

"... yeah... thanks, Peaches," Macaque said slowly, looking at him with an almost suspicious gaze for a moment before he frowned oddly and stood to wander off. "I'm... going back to bed."

The group watched Macaque make his way to the hallway, movements slow and sluggish from his odd endeavor.

"Sleep well!" Mei suddenly shouted after him. "You deserve some rest after that!"

He paused just long enough to nod before heading on his way.

"You gonna explain any of that, Peaches?" Pigsy asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "The heck did you do anyway?"

"Compressed his wind pipe and scared him half to death," Wukong answered with a shrug. "It was the only thing that worked when we were... friends. And no, I don't want to explain. Not until he wants to."

No one said anything to that, just nodded in silent agreement.

When Macaque woke up the glamors were back up and where they used to be... except, Pigsy noted, whatever had originally been concealing the dark circles under his eyes.

He also noted how when Mei asked how he sleept he sounded more honest than he had since joining them.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #gen fic #humor fic #BUT THEN FEELS #mk #qi xiaotian #sun wukong #monkey king #six eared macaque #mei #long xiaojiao #sandy #pigsy #tang

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redhoodssweetheart · 3 years

Text

Life and Death

Genre: Mythology AU (Orpheus and Eurydice)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes (This is apart of my 1.5K follower celebration, please see post for details.)

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, character death

Description: Natasha and you were happy, but a month after your wedding you are killed by a snake. Natasha will do anything to get you back, even if it means she has to go into the Underworld to retrieve you.

It’s funny how one moment you can be blissfully happy and then in another moment that happiness is slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Natasha and Y/N had been married for nearly a month, their union had been celebrated throughout their small town. But there were rumors that that love and happiness would only last but a short while. Some claimed their union was doomed. There was a prophecy that said that their love would be doomed, that their love, while great, wouldn’t last.

You had worried that the prophecy would come true, but Natasha didn’t put stock into the words from someone she had considered a fraud. She knew that there would be those who didn’t want her to be happy. They were jealous of her and wanted to see her fail. She wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.

But it wasn’t a someone that would take you from her.

“Natasha!” Steve’s voice sounded from outside. “Natasha,” her door flung open. “Come quick, it’s Y/N.”

She dropped the cloth she had been drying her dishes with and followed Steve to the fields where a crowd had gathered. Soft sobs could be heard coming from several of the people you were closest too. Wanda was clinging to her husband, her brother stoic beside her. Then there was Bucky holding onto his wife Sarah. Sam was knelt by a body on the ground and that was when it hit Natasha that it was you.

“Y/N!” She cried, landing in the dirt beside you, but you didn’t respond. You appeared to be asleep and Sam looked at Natasha, tears swimming in his eyes.

“Natasha, I’m sorry… she’s gone,” his voice was hoarse. “It was snakes, she didn’t see them until it was too late, there was nothing we could do.”

Natasha didn’t want to believe it. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be true.

But a few days later your body was burned on the funeral pyre, a gold coin placed under your tongue for the ferryman. Natasha clung to Clint, not trusting herself to be able to stand on her own as she watched the fire consume your final resting place. When it was over she went home alone, collapsing onto the floor and crying there for hours. The home felt cold without you, your light and happiness seeming to have seeped out of the space.

“I warned you,” she jumped at the sound of the voice and turned to find Stephen sitting on the couch, a cup of tea in his hands. “I warned you that this would happen, but neither one of you listened.”

Natasha was on him in a moment her hand wrapped around his throat. “You did this,” she hissed. “You took away my happiness!”

Stephen looked bored and unbothered by her, “I did nothing of the sort. I wished no ill will on you or your beloved. I am merely a messenger for the gods and they told me that this union would only end in tragedy. Lady Hera did not bless this union.”

“I didn’t ask for a blessing, I just wanted happiness. A lifetime of misery and she was the one thing that made me happy. Why must we be punished for a single, stupid blessing?” Her hand tightened and still he seemed so unbothered by the fact that she was moments away from killing him. All her old training coming back, she had been bred for war and though she hadn’t taken a life in years she wasn’t opposed to taking one more.

“Do you want to know how to get her back?” Stephen arched an eyebrow.

Her grip loosened, “How?”

“You must travel to the Underworld, make a bargain with Lord Hades. His wife is with him, he tends to be softer when she’s around. He may grant you your wish of getting your wife back,” Stephen maneuvered out from under her, a sheet of paper in his hands. “This is the closest entrance to the Underworld. Sleep on it.”

She clutched the map in her hands, she knew where the entrance was, and when she looked up to ask him if she could truly trust him, he was gone. Glancing back at the map she felt determination set into her bones and she began to pack.

Steve appeared at Natasha’s home the following morning to see how she was doing and discovered that she was packing. “Nat, what on earth are you doing?”

She didn’t even look up as she wrapped her bread in a cloth, “I’m getting Y/N back.”

There was a moment of silence, and then, “That’s not possible.”

She held up the map to the Underworld, “I’m going to go and make a bargain with Hades himself.” She turned and faced her friend, “I have to try this Steve, I love her. We got one month together when we deserved a lifetime. She deserved more than what she got. I have to try and give her the second chance at life.”

Steve thought that this was the craziest idea that he had ever heard but he walked over and helped her finish packing. When she went to leave, he kissed her cheek and wished her good luck. He didn’t know if she would succeed or fail, but he hoped that she would be all right either way.

It took several days for Natasha to reach the entrance to the Underworld. She passed through several villages and replenished her supplies before reaching the cavern that would lead her down into the place where mortals were not allowed. She had heard of one other that had attempted this. His name had been Hercules and he had been trying to pay off his sins for murdering his entire family.

She dove into the darkness and headed down, down, down. When she emerged from the darkness she found herself on the banks of a river. Souls were milling around hoping for someone to give them a way across. They eyed Natasha warily and she made her way toward the docks. A ferry was waiting and Charon knew instantly that she was not one of the dead.

“I only ferry souls, mortal,” his tone relayed that he was bored.

She produced a coin, “Please, I have payment.”

Charon eyed the coin and motioned for her to board. As they sailed he said, “Lord Hades will not be pleased to see yet another mortal show up on his doorstep.”

“I have no other choice,” her voice was soft.

The rest of the ride was silent and he dropped her off at the other side of the river. His final words to her were the directions to the palace. Along the way she ran into Cerberus and managed to charm him into letting her pass. Then she saw the palace of the Lord of the Underworld looming before her. It appeared to be carved out of the very rock that the walls of the Underworld were made of. It was grand and exactly how she had imagined it would be.

She pushed the doors open and headed down the long halls, crystal chandeliers casting colorful rainbows along the walls and floors, paintings of fields and wildlife decorated the walls, and a plush wine colored rug was beneath her feet.

Several spirits eyed her as she moved through the halls looking for the throne room. She wasn’t sure how, but she knew instinctively where to go. It was almost as if an invisible force was pulling her in that direction. When she arrived the doors were open and before her Hades and Persephone sat on their thrones. She paused before them, staring at them. She had never been before a god before, let alone two.

“What brings a mortal to my realm before her time is up?” His voice was deep and commanding.

Natasha squared her shoulders and said, “I’ve come to retrieve my wife Y/N. She died too soon.”

“Too soon?” Hades questioned. “It is my belief that her thread of life had been cut? Are you a Fate? Did you make a mistake? Tell me, mortal, how do you know that her life ended too soon?”

“She didn’t deserve to die like that,” Natasha said. “We had our whole lives ahead of us, she was good and kind, and I can’t live my life without her beside me.”

Persephone put a hand on her husband’s arm, “What would you do to get me back, my love?”

He looked toward her and Natasha felt hope blooming inside her. “Please,” she begged, pulling the gods’ attention back to her. “I have done many terrible things in my life, but Y/N was the one thing that I did do right. If she was punished because she chose me then she shouldn’t have been. Give me one chance.”

Hades contemplated her words, “All right, I will give you a chance to be reunited with your mortal love. But you have to prove to me that you are worthy of this. When she takes your hand you may not look upon her face until the both of you are out of the Underworld. Trust that she will follow you home to the realm above. Only then can you have her back.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” she sighed. “Thank you.”

A hand took hers and she jumped, fighting the urge to look back to see your face again. She squeezed your hand and began to lead you away from the palace and the Underworld.

Persephone looked at her husband and asked, “Do you think they will make it?”

Hades watched the door where the two of them had disappeared, “I do not know my love, but she will not get this chance again if she fails.”

Meanwhile you followed Natasha, you did not know of the deal she had made with Hades. You did not know that she was not allowed to look at you until you both reached the mortal realm. You wondered why she would not speak, why she was so quiet. You did not ask and you did not falter in your steps. She led you up and up and you realized where you were going.

Home.

She was taking you back home.

The two of you climbed higher and higher, you could see the light from the world of the living before you. Natasha still hadn’t turned and you held onto her tighter. Her feet crossed over the threshold of the Underworld and she began to turn, but you were still in the darkness, still in the cave.

When her eyes beheld yours she smiled widely, she had made it, you were home. But then your fingers melted through hers as if you weren’t really there and your soul went flying back into the darkness below. Natasha let out a scream and lunged forward only to be met with solid rock. She had been so close. She thought that you had both made it out, but she should have gone farther just to be sure.

She let out a sob, there would be no second chances this time.

Hades sighed, he had felt your soul return. “She was so close,” he murmured.

Persephone kissed her husband’s cheek, “They will find their way back to one another someday, my love. As they always have.”

He looked at your soul, waiting at the edge of Elysium for Natasha to return, patient as always.

Many Years Later

Natasha exited the coffee shop, the hustle and bustle of New York City filling her ears. She checked her phone and saw that she had a missed message from Steve telling her to get to the Tower as quickly as she could. Sighing, she slipped her phone back into her pocket and headed down the street. Her cup of coffee keeping her hands warm, fall had just arrived and things were beginning to cool down.

She felt her phone buzz again and cursed Steve. She was on her way. As she reached for it she glanced down for merely a moment and bumped into someone. Her coffee landed on the ground, steaming as it poured from the cup. “I’m so sorry!” A new voice said. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

Natasha looked up to find you standing there looking at her with an anxious look. You weren’t sure if she was going to yell at you or not. “It’s all right, accidents happen.”

“At least let me buy you a new one,” you offered. “I’ll feel bad the entire day if I don’t.”

The offer was tempting, but her phone was buzzing again alerting her to yet another message from Steve. “I can’t right now, I’m late for something, but maybe some other time.” She pulled a scrap piece of paper from her bag and scrawled her name and number on it. “Text me and give me a date and time.”

You smiled at her and she felt as though her breath had been taken, “All right, Natasha. It’s a date.”

You moved past her and she was just staring at you when she felt her phone begin to ring, “God damnit, Steve, I’m on my way!” She snapped as she tore her eyes away from you and began heading toward the tower.

Nearby at a little bistro two people sat watching the interaction, “I told you so.” Persephone grinned at her husband and he sighed.

“As you always are, my dear,” he gave her a fond look and her cheeks heated just a bit. “What do I owe you this time?”

“Dinner,” she said. “Someplace nice. Maybe we could make a vacation out of it.”

He leaned in and kissed her lips, “Your wish is my command.”

A year later Natasha proposed to you and you happily agreed. This time your marriage didn’t end in tragedy, but you lived out the rest of your days together at last.

#Natasha Romanoff x Reader #Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader #Natasha Romanoff x Reader angst #Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff fanfic #Natasha Romanoff fanfiction #Natasha Romanoff angst #Requested

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itsbeaconhillsbaby · 3 years

Note

I love your writings, they’re so good and realistic and not weird and cringe like some others on here, by far the best I’ve seen in a while !! Was just wondering if you’re taking requests and if so if you could do one when your an actress and have always had a crush on him but you meet him at an after party at a premier or something and have flirty banter and maybe more ? Thankyou x

hello my lovely x

this is so unbelievably sweet I've been screaming since this popped into my inbox. I wanted to start this off by saying a massive thank you - this is my first ever requested piece and I am so excited to be able to create something for you! this is a milestone fic: the 10th fic that I've written for tom, and is also one of my longest!! I also want to apologise for how long it has taken me; I started on this a while ago now and you have been so patient and kind! please enjoy and let me know what you think! (also the timing that this is now coming out on his birthday is all the spook!!)

after party antics || tom holland x reader

word count: 2729 warnings: alcohol use summary: premiere after party meet cute

Circular tables filled the floor as glittering chandeliers hung low from the ceilings above. Pretty foliage and large blooming fresh flowers in pastel pinks, greens and blues, draped through the room, entangling themselves around chairs and across wooden beams. Lace, satin and chiffon brushed along the floors as what felt like the entire film industry conversed with one another; hands clutching at suit jacketed arms, glasses clinking in cheers.

Music, chatter, camera flashes and laughing filled the room - sounds reverberating all around. You glide through the crowds, smiling and nodding your thanks as people congratulated you from either side.

Taking a detour from your path, you spotted the signs for the bathroom and let out a shaky exhale when it appeared empty. Resting your hands on the wash basin and closing your eyes, you took a couple of deep breaths before your face erupted into a toothy grin, a small squeal of excitement bubbling from your lips.

You were at an after-party.

For your very first film.

Surrounded by some of Hollywood’s finest.

WHAT!

If your best friend woke you up stating that this was all some insane dream, you wouldn’t be surprised. It would make more sense, actually – this just couldn’t be your life.

You could feel yourself spiralling and spritzed a little bit of water onto your face to calm yourself down, making sure not to ruin the amazing make-up look that your team had spent so long perfecting earlier that day.

The premiere had only just finished.

You had walked across the red carpet on wobbly legs – cameras flashing, thousands of fans screaming from behind barriers, photographers and press overpowering each other in order to get the best angles and shots; screaming for you to ‘look over here’, ‘turn to the side.’

The premiere had only just finished up as you sat amongst a drool-worthy cast; some of the biggest names in Hollywood. Joining such a large cast was daunting, especially considering who some of those people were – and more so since it was with Marvel, one of - if not the - biggest film franchises out there.

You took another look in the mirror, tucking your hair behind your ears and smoothing down the front. Giving a twirl in your signature Teuta Matoshi gown, the tulle dress embroidered with tiny little yellow daffodils and white daisies, you took a moment to admire your favourite designer as you adjusted the slightly puffed sleeves before leaving the restroom.

You held the door open behind you to allow for a gaggle of tall women to enter in beautiful flowing gowns, turning abruptly to shift yourself out of the way - smiling at them as they all smiled back.

Up on the tips of your toes, wobbling slightly in your heels, you try to peer over the heads of the masses of people. You were eagerly looking for your team, consisting of your incredible manager and your best friend, who you dragged everywhere with you. But you could barely see past the sea of heads in front of you.

You decided to head for the heavy, wide double-set doors that stood open, leading out into the freshly manicured gardens; alive with luscious trees, plants and flowerbeds. A separate dirt path led into a lowly lit rose garden that was nestled in amongst the grasses.

It was a little quieter outside, but not by much.

There was a large marquee to your immediate left. A bar was situated at one end as bottles were flipped in the air - waiters passing out trays lined with champagne flutes. Pristinely clothed tables were crowded with guests; bodies tumbled past you as they headed into the marquee - parties splitting into different locations now that the main event had concluded, leading into a very alive and wild after party.

Your cheeks ached as the smile on your face refused to drop. Too amazed by your surroundings to let it relax. You stand out on the patio area, looking out across the gardens towards the glow of the city in the distance, lights twinkling in exchange for stars. Despite the dry warmth of the evening you could feel the lightest of winds raising the tiny hairs on your arms.

“Room for another?”

You jumped slightly at the interruption, the voice light and questioning. You turn, your dress dancing around you.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting. I’m Tom, I’ve been meaning to introduce myself all night. Congratulations on the film!”

As you exchange pleasantries, your cheeks gathering up some heat beneath the radiant glow of your make-up, he presses forwards leaning in for a hug as you do the same. You can feel his hands against the bare skin at your back leaving behind tiny little goose-bumps in their place, your skin tingling from his touch. You couldn’t help but breathe in his cologne, the pleasant woodsy scent engulfing you.

“Ah, so you’re the spider guy? I think I’m getting the hang of these superhero names now.”

Your lips twitch, forming a playful smile.

He tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, eyeing you up as tiny crinkles appeared around the outside of his eyes. They were looking at you inquisitively with a sweet kind of intensity.

You could feel your heart kick up a notch under his gaze. You scolded yourself internally for your lack of composure. Of course, you knew who Spider-Man was, you’d been such a fan of the Marvel films for years and you’d have to have been blind not to notice the cute, brown haired, quick witted, web-slinger who the world quickly fell in love with. They weren’t the only ones; did he look even better in person? How was that even fair? You shook your head slightly at your thoughts in an attempt to dispel them from your conscious.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I’m a fan of yours – your work is brilliant.”

You continued on with your bumbling word vomit – a light pink blush evident across your cheekbones and nose.

Tom’s face lights up more as you stumble over your sentences, his eyes glistening in the darkening sky.

“Oh really? Big fan, hm?” He wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, before calling upon one of the many smartly dressed men and women swooping seamlessly through the crowds with their glossy black trays.

You take a moment to drink him in. His crisp navy suit sat comfortably unbuttoned, the satin shirt hugging the figure beneath. He looked older than you’d seen him portray onscreen; his jaw strong and chiselled. His shoulders and body filled out his suit comfortably, hair beautifully fluffed; although it did seem slightly rumpled, as though he had been running his hands through it.

“Oh yeah,” You paused for a beat before continuing, “Then again, I think you’re about the 30th actor I’ve said that to tonight.”

He nods, laughing, his eyes lighting up at your relaxed, playful energy.

“Oh. Okay, nice. No, I see how it is. New girl keeping us all on our toes with the flattery.”

He holds one of the crystal champagne flutes out to you before picking up his own. Shimmering, golden liquid danced as you accepted the glass, fingertips brushing over open palms.

The cool bubbles gently slid down your throat. You could feel eyes on you as you focussed on the glass in your hand.

“Have you met everyone yet?” Tom gestured towards to the lit-up marquee, “A lot of us were talking about how great you were in your film, they’ll want to meet you.”

“Now who’s full of the flattery,” You tease, nudging his arm slightly as he shakes his head at you, “But honestly, I haven’t, I’m kind of finding it all a little bit intimidating. I’ve also lost my team which is not helpful.”

You took another sweep of the area. Now low-key wishing that you wouldn’t find them for a little while, not if it meant that you could continue to talk with Tom with no interruptions.

“Well hey, I can introduce you? I was so terrified when I did my first Marvel premiere, but everyone is so great. Trust me. It’s like a strange, crazy dysfunctional family. I think you fit in perfectly.”

“Are you calling me strange, crazy and dysfunctional? You have an interesting way of making friends, Holland.” You both laugh, “Only if you’re sure though? I don’t want you to be stuck introducing me all night.”

“Don’t be silly. We’ll make it fun. C’mon.”

Tom led you through the entrance of the marquee, turning on the charm as people fist bumped or pulled him in for a quick hug or handshake. Every time they did he peered through his eyelashes at you, inviting you to introduce yourself.

As you made jokes and conversed with your new peers, Tom couldn’t stop himself from watching you. Your name had been all the buzz recently and he’d been eager to meet you. Not only because you were undoubtedly going to be working with each other on future projects, but because you were also getting thrown into the Marvel spotlight like he had been. Little did he realise just how enamoured he had become with you in such a short space of time. There was something about you, he thought, as your cheeks glowed, a wide grin resting upon your face, eyes dancing wildly as you spoke with your new peers - something that he felt drawn to. You noticed him staring and gave him a little wink, shaking him out of it as he joined back into the conversation.

****

The two shot glasses sloppily thump against the bar top.

“Ha!”

“What! No, I was totally first!” Tom protested loudly, throwing his hands into the air.

“I definitely beat you!”

You smiled politely at the bartender as he collected the row of glasses lined up in front of you before turning wildly to face Tom.

“You just can’t face the fact that I won.”

He gestures to his brother who had pulled up a stool to join you both, “Harry c’mon, I won right?!”

“You can’t ask him that, it’s cheating. He’s your brother, of course he’s going to pick your side.”

“Tom, I hate to say this mate but I think she has you beat…” Harry said regretfully, camera slung around his neck as he nursed his own drink, mouth falling into an upturned grin as he supervised the pair of you.

You looked past Tom, straight at Harry, grinning proudly, “I take it back, Harry’s opinion is very important.”

Tom gives Harry a gentle shove as they mess around. You feel an arm slink around your shoulders, giving a playfully gentle squeeze. Your heart thumps along to the beat of the bass, music pulsing through your very bones as the three of you continued to laugh and joke around. Tom’s hair had gotten far more rumpled as the night had gone on, a long way off the perfectly styled look that he’d started off with.

You decided you preferred it messy.

Tom was sitting close by you on his stool, your knees both knocking together. His foot was tapping the footrest to the beat of the music. He’d discarded his suit jacket, and it now hung from the back of the chair, leaving him in his fitted shirt. You couldn’t help but notice his defined muscles as he ran a hand through his hair before resting it on the back of your seat.

“You look really pretty tonight. I saw you walking the carpet earlier, you completely owned it up there.”

“Tom Holland, are you flirting with me?”

You spun in your seat a little bit, making direct eye contact as your hand rested gently on his knee.

As soon as the pair of you had challenged each other to a drinking competition (involving a lot of shots) the night flew by, and you found yourself becoming more and more comfortable with Tom. He was quickly going from that cute actor who you had a little crush on, to someone you were actually spending time with? The intimidation you were feeling from earlier had dissipated, leaving you feeling slightly fuzzy and very happy.

He shrugs, that cheeky grin appearing again. A twinkle shining within those gorgeous brown eyes.

“I don’t know. Am I?”

He slides off of his seat, holding a hand out to you, palm up.

“C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” You questioned, as Harry returned with the drinks.

“Dance floor.”

You can feel your face light up as you hopped down from the high stool, gripping onto Tom’s hand as he helped navigate you back down to solid ground. He whispered to his brother who comfortably started up a conversation with the people around him, before giving him a pat on the shoulder as you dragged him over to the dance floor.

The floor was already packed with bodies. A live DJ station was against one wall facing out into the crowd; flashing, swirling lights brightened up the outdoor space. You pointed out a space in amongst the crowd and Tom led you both towards it, far better at making a path through the wayward limbs than you would have been.

The space was small, and the pair of you were in extremely close proximity. This was the most at ease you’d felt all night, allowing yourself to just feel the music and dance with one of the sweetest, most charming and insanely attractive men you’d possibly ever met. The space quickly filled up, growing tighter until you and Tom were practically chest to chest. He was a quick mover; his hips, legs and arms moving in all the right directions.

Your bodies were pressed together tightly, rapid heartbeats beating as one.

He leans in, pressing up against your side, brushing some stray hairs out of your face, “I also meant what I said earlier. You’re really beautiful tonight.”

“Just tonight?” You whisper into his ear, leaving him to flounder slightly on the dance floor. A little colour flushed to his cheeks as he lifted an arm, spinning you under it.

Before he has a chance to answer, you continue.

“You don’t scrub up too badly yourself, Holland.”

As the two of you lock eyes; the heat from the dance floor, the pounding of the music and the dancing, twinkling lights all fade to the background. His eyes dart to your lips, and you can't help but follow his lead, when you can suddenly hear your name being called out in the crowd.

"Oh my god, I got her. We've been looking for you for ages!" You were suddenly no longer face to face with the cute boy but instead looking into the slightly stressed face of your manager, "It's nearly 4am, the car is here and we gotta go!" She took a moment to look between you and Tom, who suddenly now looked a little bit embarrassed and sheepish - nervously rubbing at the back of his neck.

"Oh. Sorry, I've interrupted something here, haven't I?" She awkwardly made her way back through the crowd after whispering a sorry in your direction.

You smile at Tom, and make your way out from the dance floor. He was close behind you, nodding to a group of people back up at the bar.

He pulls you in for a goodbye hug, embracing you similarly to how you'd hugged earlier in the evening. Except this time was full of promise and a strange tension that hadn't been present before. You could feel the goosebumps prickle your skin where he touched it - his hands gentle as he held them tight around your waist, breathing you in before pulling away.

"Thank you for tonight, Tom. I owe you, seriously."

As you hurriedly caught up to your team, dress fluttering behind you as you immediately begin laughing and chatting animatedly to them, you could feel eyes on you. You looked back as you continued to vacate the marquee and head for the cars out front. Tom was stood, staring after you, a bright smile on his lips.

Something told you this wasn't the last you'd hear from him, and your stomach flip-flopped immediately at the very thought of seeing him again after tonight. For now however, the image of the brown haired, glossy eyed young man smiling after you in awe would have to be enough.

#glamour-l #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland meet cute #asks #lisa writes #you should've seen my reaction to getting my first request THE EXCITMENT #I haven't posted fic in ages now tho and im all shy and nervous again omg #I really hope you like it

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chatsu · 3 years

Text

˗ˋ there you are

genre — angst, fluff (?) warning — mentions of death, grief words — 2,124

notes — it is 3:07 am, and i don't want to come up with a synopsis so, i shan't <3 this is my first writing post,, so uhh, please give me criticism !

violet chrysanthemum — unbearable pain at the thought of losing a loved one white chrysanthemum — reserved for sympathy and remembrance lyra — a constellation, which you can read more about here !

hugging his knees on the pavement, oikawa tooru couldn't help but overhear the faint chitter of loved ones greeting each other, serving as a reminder to why he was lamenting in the first place. a combination of heavy sobs and pleas of a miracle, he had grown used to, yet he still found the letters engraved on the cold stone in front of him almost foreign.

the anniversary of your death was fast approaching. caught in the fast lane of change, tooru has experienced almost every stage of grief. almost.

he remembers a shade of reddish brown framing your corpse. a metallic odour accompanied by tears burning every inch of his face, creating a sickly feeling in the back of his throat, which only multiplied as he released his frustration in the form of bargains.

' if only's ' and ' what if's ' his brittle voice had echoed — temporary truces, in which he begged and pleaded with every god and goddess known to the universe, in an attempt to negotiate his way out of this harsh reality.

from denial to anger, and from bargaining which soon melted into his current state of stark numbness in your absence. the past seemed more alive than the present.

stationed on the 4th, hazy reminders of a once living past seemed to obstruct his path of progression leading to the 5th and final phase of this grieving process that must inevitably follow. acceptance.

tooru is a competitive man. on the court, he is capable of adapting to new environments, examining their playing style, studying each and every player in a matter of seconds and having the ability to draw out their strengths — thus, blending into the team as if he was apart of the original line up.

yet, surrounded by this atmosphere of sorrow and anguish, he stuck out like a sore thumb. even after scrutinizing how others had dealt with this profound feeling of misery, their so called 'methods' were in vain, and he continued to suffer.

his fear of being second best, he now had no chance of overcoming. because as if in a race, tooru was exasperated, struggling to catch up with everyone else.

even the stars are lonely, but at least there were a multitude to keep company, and he couldn't help but envy them. your family, friends, hanamaki, matsukawa, hajime, even takeru had accepted the fact that you were gone, as they smiled fondly, memory sweet with you.

tooru could not remember the last time he smiled — a genuine one, that is. one that isn't plastered on when prompted with the constant ' how are you holding up? '. one that creeps up to his eyes to resemble a crescent moon. one with familiarity and love. one because of you.

the setting sun bathed everything in shades of lavender, painting the flowers propped beside your grave a colour he had wished they were. telling a tale of many consecutive days spent in this location, they bloomed brightly and never wilted away for they were regularly changed with a newer, hand picked bouquet. today, the flowers hadn't the ability to mock him, for today was different.

earlier, under what he thought were unfortunate circumstances, he was left stricken by the lack of purple petals accessible. left with no other choice, he let his fingers fumble along those coloured as snow instead. however, opting for these flowers proved to be difficult, as he realised he was breaking his routine.

because the shadow of the past still hung over, his fear of being second best soon morphed into a fear of change. a fear of everything changing. again, while he still had not adjusted to his scars wounded by time. it was nearing a year since tragedy struck. a year since that decisive moment of change.

but due to a sudden yet short lived act of bravery, tooru chose to cease sewing the seeds of habit, and as of right now, he found himself laying these flowers in their accustomed seat atop the gleaming stone. stems slightly compressed due to his secure grip, but petals remaining untouched. although both were chrysanthemums, the previous batches had been violet, and the current were white, simple as.

it is only when his nephew appears in his peripheral, he is snapped out of his trance, plastering a soft smile to veil his conflicting thoughts. hardly a word is spoken between them as takeru gently places an article of clothing on his lap, then is soon walking off.

leaving tooru with more questions than answers, his eyes shift downwards and widen at the sight of his old aoba johsai uniform folded ever so neatly. at an agonizingly slow pace, his slender fingers start to inspect every nook and cranny of the oversized — on you, not him — jersey. he holds it gingerly for this specific piece of fabric is a memory preserved.

and like a bridge to the past, tooru finds himself traversing along the nostalgic path, illuminated by memories time seemed to have dimmed.

as if the past is burned into his psyche, he still remembers the day you ignored him, well at least tried to.

though your actions were deemed fruitless, as you soon dropped your facade when he eventually caught up to you while you were walking home. mentally cursing yourself for your futile attempts at avoiding him, you had confessed that you were not in fact jealous, but curious as to why there were so many girls wearing his exact jersey. there was an attempt to stifle a laugh, yet one look at the stubborn pout on your face was all it took for tooru to burst out laughing.

"what is so funny?" you had tilted your head with a slight scowl painting your features.

impatiently tapping your foot, you waited for a response, but from his hunched figure and the smack! when he brought his hand to his knee was confirmation that his fit of laughter wasn't going to die out any time soon.

"oikawa" you had puffed, and the use of his last name was enough to get his attention, as he flicked an invisible tear off his face.

dramatically, with his hand latched onto his hip to form his signature stance, his free arm stretched out and squeezed your shoulders.

"they're not mine" he chuckled with a shrug and a smile — smug, yet genuine.

"listen tooru, i'm not dumb. you're the team captain right? the number 1's on the back practically mocked me!"

"may i ask, how many were there?"

"you mean how many were wearing your uniform? hmm i don't know, maybe every single girl i saw cheering?"

"yeah, and do you really think i'd have that many jerseys to give away? iwa-chan would be kicking my ass if i was constantly getting new jerseys!"

moments of silence passed and you figured that he was right, but your stubborn demeanour wasn't going to admit defeat that easily.

"i suppose that it would cost a lot of money, which you don't have, seeing as i was the one who had to pay for lunch yesterday. plus, you uhh, still seem as small as you were in first year so i assume you wouldn't need a change in size"

feigning a gasp, he clutched his heart and claimed that it was his turn to ignore you. snickering in response, he cupped your face and peppered it with kisses until he spoke up again.

"you know, ordering uniforms are pretty common for fangirls. buuut, you don't have to spend a single dime 'cause there's only one i'd like you to wear"

digging into his bag whilst motioning you to lift your arms up, he pulled out his aoba johsai jersey. he quickly put it on you and stood back, admiring how the cloth adorned you — no, how you adorned the cloth. this went on for a while, him staring at you in pure adoration, until his face lit up and he went back to fumbling in his bag.

"here! to fully establish that this is for you and you only, a limited edition, aoba johsai uniform, signed by the oikawa tooru" he beamed, placing the top of a permanent marker in between his teeth and biting the lid off.

his left hand found purchase on your waist as the other was in the midst of signing the front and back of your shirt with his signature. tooru being, well, tooru, he began to embellish the entire fabric in little hearts with ' tooru + y/n 's in large lettering, until he was interrupted by your arms outstretching and pulling him in for a hug. deciding against sulking about not getting to finish his oh so lovely drawings, he instead chose to reciprocate and nuzzle into your neck, basking in your warmth.

from then on, it was an essential garment to your outfits. yes, you were reluctant as the bright turquoise colour certainly did not match with everything, but ' you can pull off anything ' is what tooru had claimed. some fashion advice coming from the mf who wore plaid shorts <3

unlike the rest of your clothes in the closet collecting dust, it remained hung up on the handle, ready for use. from matches to study dates which later transitioned into sleepovers, he always complimented your attire in different ways as if it was your first time wearing it.

braiding his chocolate coloured locks, he lay on top of you, the back of his head on your stomach as he made an effort to mirror the rhythm of your breathing with every rise and fall of your chest.

after a lack of commentary, you noticed that he was not staring off into space, but rather the glow in the dark stars you had stuck up on your ceiling. deciding to take advantage, you extended your arm to switch off the lamp adjacent your bed, and while the light faded, the stars gathered overhead.

"oh - hurry up tooru, look! it's a shooting star, make a wish" you gushed, having one eye shut while the other awaited his reaction.

"come on now, you know i didn't bring my glasses with me today, hmph"

"no no, how does that saying go — you don't have to be able to see it to believe it! you're the one always saying those cliche quotes all the time"

".. angel, i'm sorry but this is all just a yellow blur to me. i really can't see anything"

huffing at his habitual use of endearment, you wrapped your hand around his wrist and straightened out his index finger to guide it towards the ' shooting star ' that had not moved from the centre of your ceiling.

"better?"

"much"

letting out a satisfied hum, you both closed your eyes, your conversation, but not your minds as they wished upon the faithful glints of gold which magnified the tranquility of it all.

you eased your grip around his wrist but he took this as an opportunity to interlock his fingers with yours. and with the stars winking from a pitch black sky, your wishes combined, and the soft squeeze of your hands, it was a silent promise that you would always be with each other.

perhaps it was the flower's slight change in hue which resulted in this caprice of fate, because for the first time, he finds himself recalling positive memories rather than remnants of your death.

and for the first time, tooru accepts. the unknown feeling envelops him, yet it does so with open arms, a welcoming smile, and no judgement.

the way he allows his tears dye the turquoise clothing a darker shade, he recognizes that he is no longer under the false pretence that all is well.

he need not question why the corners of his lips subliminally upturn, because as as he clutches this jersey, it's almost as if he is clutching you once more.

while the last stars still fleck the sky, he thanks those lucky stars, for it is you there with him, and he finds solace in your presence.

but this time, tooru isn't afraid to let go.

by no means does he intend to let go of you, no — never. but to let go of the affliction, pain, and instead have regard for the past in preparation for the future. in preparation for change.

and with his damp high school uniform, his smile that is heartful, and the lyra hanging heavy in the eastern sky, they all begin to coalesce into his former self.

the tooru who is not a genius. the tooru who underestimates his own strength, the tooru who overcomes adversity. the tooru, whom you are in love with.

and with the knowledge, and most importantly, acceptance, that you are no longer here with him physically,

oikawa tooru knows that wherever he goes, there you are.

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mrfeenysmustache · 3 years

Text

InuKag Week Day 5

Previous days: 1, 2, 3, 4

—————-

Kagome stoked the fire in the fire pit, watching the flames bloom up and around the cooking pot. Inuyasha had stepped out to get some water, kill a rabbit for dinner, and do one last quick patrol of the forest around their hut - their hut- and she was focusing all of her energy on cooking this rice to keep her nerves at bay.

She sat back on her heels and looked around, taking in every inch of the little space she now called home.

Finished just that morning, their little hut had a couple of storage shelves, a cabinet, some hooks for hanging things, a fire pit, and it still smelled like fresh cut wood and saw dust. She smiled tremulously, still unable to believe she was here now, living in her own little home with the hanyo she loved in the time period that had become her own.

And that she was a wife now.

She gulped and turned her attention back to the rice, pulling the pot from the pit and setting it aside before starting a kettle for tea.

She’d been back for a few months, but staying with Kaede as the villagers came together to help get their hut built. Inuyasha had worked hard on it as well, expediting the process with his demon strength and stamina, and her cheeks pinked as she remembered the sight of him shirtless and sweaty hauling boards and swinging hammers.

The final nails had been hammered before lunch time, and now it was time to move in and make it a home.

Her heart raced again as she heard Inuyasha’s footsteps approaching.

She stood to face the door and he came inside with whatever he’d managed to hunt cleaned and ready to roast. He smiled softly at her, and it was so sweet and intimate it took her breath away.

“Water bucket is still outside.”

“I’ll get it!” She blurted out a little too loudly, making way for the door.

“No I’m gonna get it Kagome, you don’t have-“

“It’s okay, I wanna help!”

She dashed outside before he could stop her and took a great gulp of fresh air. The dying light of the sun washed everything gold, signaling the end of the day and the beginning of night.

Of sleep.

‘There’s only one futon in this place.’ She thought, mind swirling with both fear and excitement.

‘It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal. This is INUYASHA. I’ve wanted this for years, no sense in being so freaked out! It’s fine.’

And she knew it would be fine.

Eventually.

She heaved up the water bucket, wobbling inside with it, nearly dropping it when she screeched to a halt to keep from running straight into Inuyasha, who was waiting right inside the door with crossed arms and a smirk.

“Figured it would be too heavy.”

“It’s not too heavy!” She huffed, but didn’t argue when he took the bucket from her.

“Sleep clothes are in that chest in the corner if you want to change before dinner.”

She swung wide eyes over to the chest, her heart once again picking up speed as she realized that yes, she would like to change into something more comfortable than these miko robes before dinner but also- there was no where private to change.

She walked over and lifted the lid with shaking hands, pulling out the plain yukata she would be sleeping in and standing to disrobe.

“I gotta head back out for a minute, gotta couple more things to take care of. I’ll be right back.” Inuyasha said as he walked back out the door, and she breathed a sigh of relief and quickly changed, feeling so stupid for still feeling so nervous and out of sorts.

She was an adult now, a married adult with a house and a husband and she was still acting so childish. Inuyasha was probably already regretting this whole thing but she just couldn’t get on top of these feelings and squash them.

Tears gathered in her eyes, and though she hadn’t heard him come in, it didn’t frighten her when Inuyasha wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. She simply sank into him and sniffled, wiping her face on his fire rat and feeling wretched.

“You know Kagome, I don’t expect anything from you. Not tonight, not ever. You don’t have to be afraid of me just because we’re alone now. I would never do-“

“NO, Inuyasha, it’s not that. I’m not afraid of you at all. This is all just so new and I feel so stupid for being so nervous. It’s not you, I promise.”

He tilted her chin up and stared into her eyes, allowing his to glow with all of his love, all of his hope, and all of his own fear. She gasped, so wrapped up in her own head she hadn’t even thought that she may not be alone in her “first night jitters.”

Slowly, softly, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, and though he’d kissed her before, when they’d had stolen moments alone during the construction of their home, this felt different. None of the frantic anticipation, none of the burning excitement, this kiss smoldered low and warm and wrapped around her comfortingly, calming her racing heart and spinning thoughts, bringing her back to earth instead of making her soar.

When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, clutching her close.

“I’ve got no idea what the hell I’m doing here either, Kagome. I’m terrified I’m going to fuck something up and send you running for the well again. But we’ve always figured it out together before. I have a feeling this will be the same.”

“Inuyasha…” she breathed, more tears falling, more love surging, the last of her trepidation fleeing as she realized he was right.

They’d always figured it out together, that wouldn’t change now, and while their first night as husband and wife wasn’t exactly an oni with a jewel shard to be defeated, it was a milestone they would be crossing together.

“Come on, let’s eat dinner and then go to bed, husband.” She teased, laughing freely when he blushed and spluttered.

Many things had changed in one short day, a whole slew of firsts to adjust to, but at least some things stayed the same.

“Keh!”

#inukag week 2021 #inukag week #inukag #inukag fic #inukag fanfic #inukag fanfiction #Inuyasha and kagome

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