Jing yuan x reader | inspired by the song : we become we
Warning : angst / comfort, forced marriages, happy ending (in a way 😇)
Can we become one?"
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You were forced to marry the general. Was he a great person? Yeah... But.. You never loved him. You look through the window behind your mother to see Jing yuan waiting for you outside, you sigh as you look away from your mother nagging at you needing to make the marriage work.
"I need to excuse myself, mother. My fiancee is here." You then walk away to prepare yourself, just grab your phone and keys and then open the door. It's that simple right?
He awkwardly looks away as he smiles "so.." He stated, looking directly at the direction of your mother "ah.. You heard it.." You chuckle. The fleeting laughter you had never seemed to annoy him.. How could it? You were perfect..
Your perfect colored eyes, your smile, your sound... You were just so.. "Hey, Mr. General?" you chuckle, snapping your fingers at him. He looks at you, seemingly confident in himself. "Ah, right." He held out his hand as he awaited for yours in his. You smile as your fingers intertwined.
Maybe.. This could work
maybe...just maybe... he sighs to himself, knowing how things might as well end for him..he could see the hollow your eyes gave even with a smile on your face.. the smile he knew was real.. the smile he wanted all for himself but never could. you stare back at him as you try to make up why he was staring at you. he was cute.. but he wasn't him.
As he took you out on your date.. You both fed each other, you enjoyed each other's company... He loves you... But you felt empty.. You wanted to love him like he loved you. But not now.. maybe not even forever. but maybe one day.. The ring you have.. It will mean something to you.. And before then. You'll learn how to love him, too
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𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐦. .
. . these seven years would be pretty dumb.
// tws ; slight cursing, blood ; gn reader ; modern au, hanahaki au
a/n: bubble gum by clairo :3
all you could think about was him.
your classmate with light and airy strands of porcelain white hair, akin to the color of an elegant swan’s feathers, all tied together daintily with a single thin vermilion red ribbon.
your classmate with those piercing honey speckled eyes which could see right through you, as if you were translucent.
your classmate who was always dozing off, whatever the reason may be.
your classmate who always managed to appear ethereal somehow, even after just sleeping.
your classmate, jing yuan.
you doubted he ever noticed you. he was always either dozing off quietly or caught up in chatting with fu xuan.
oh, you realized he was doing the latter right now.
fu xuan — more commonly known around the school as diviner fu — gazed up at jing yuan with her amber eyes, a serious shimmer in them. her lilac pink hair was divided into two neatly made ponytails, secured by four golden ji hairpins. they glinted in the bright, blaring fluorescence of the lights in the classroom.
jing yuan leaned down and she murmured something in his ear.
he returned to his usual standing position, now also wearing the same serious expression fu xuan was.
jing yuan glanced around the room, ochre eyes flitting.
you stared at him, curious.
his eyes landed on you, narrowing.
surprised, you panicked.
oh god. looking down would make it obvious i was staring at him. i could keep looking at his direction and pretend that i was looking at soemthing else? but what if he thinks i was looking at him? what the fuck do i do? oh, wait, he looked away.
never mind, he’s coming towards me.
oh fuck he’s coming towards me.
oh fuck. ohfuck. ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck-
"hey," jing yuan said, voice deep and a bit rough. he smiled slightly at you, immediately sending off a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.
"oh. uhm, hi," you greeted, your voice light and airy, nervousness bubbling up. you had been a shy person all your life, and your crush randomly coming up and talking with you did not help in easing your nervousness.
jing yuan glanced back at fu xuan, who shook her head furiously at him, signaling something to jing yuan you were unaware of. he rolled his eyes, but decided to comply with her.
"sorry for, uhm, bothering you. i was just wondering if you had the notes we were supposed to copy down today? i kind of fell asleep, and fu xuan doesn’t have them, so i was wondering if you did," he mumbled, an excuse for why he came over to you.
"oh, uh, yeah, i have them," you said, rummaging in your backpack to find your notes. pulling them out, you handed them over to jing yuan.
"thanks," he smiled, "i’ll return them to you tomorrow if that’s okay?"
you nodded.
he nodded.
then he walked away.
you probably should’ve tried talking to him a bit more. maybe make small talk. oh, god, but what if he started thinking you were interested in him if you did that? that you were trying too hard?
yeah , you convinced yourself, mustering up an excuse for your own cowardice. maybe it was better you hadn’t.
--
you had gotten back home from school. setting your backpack aside, you immediately made a beeline for your room.
as soon as you shut and locked the door, you began hacking up fuchsia and créme colored bleeding hearts was how you spent most of your time now.
every night after dinner, or the few bites of food you ate that you thought as dinner now, you'd go to bed with your dove-white sheets pulled up to your neck and with burgundy blood and toxic red bleeding hearts pooled around you.
every morning, you’d wake up wondering if today would be the day he'd finally notice you, if he'd finally know you existed. of course, you knew it was just wishful thinking, but you still craved for him to notice you, to talk to you for more than ten seconds.
and thinking about him lead to wheezing up even more bleeding hearts. all stained vermillion with blood and slick with mucus.
it was the the same cycle over and over again. rinse and repeat.
how you yearned for it to end. but you knew the cycle — and your hanahaki — could only end in one way at this point — death.
you had discovered that you had hanahaki a little too late. now you couldn’t do the surgery without the abnormally big chance of dying.
if you were to die either way, what was the point of doing the surgery then?
--
your hanahaki had gotten worse over the last few weeks.
now you coughed up whole bleeding hearts, coated and stained so much in your blood to the point where the original color of the flowers was unrecognizable.
now you wheezed the damned flowers whenever you fucking laid your damn eyes on him . now you avoided looking up from your seat even more than you used to.
now you hacked up the fucking flowers to the point where you would fucking blackout.
now you wanted to die. wanted to be put out of your damn misery.
--
you wished you could talk to him, but every time you began to walk up to him, you overthought everything and backed out like the coward you were.
it was like you were trapped in some sort of time loop from a horror movie — only instead of running away from something terrifying, this was more of a endless cycle of you wanting to talk to him but never doing so, one that you didn't quite know how to escape.
maybe, just maybe you should try and talk to him.
..
maybe tomorrow.
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