#did the flower grow to be meant to be undeserving of such kindness? or are there thorns on its petals that serve as an unbeknownst barrier?

[chaozsilhouette]

Moonlit Musings

The night is such a perfect time to face one’s darkest truths. Shrouded in the moon’s light what can one do but admit to their flaws. It can be a time of rejuvenation and rebirth, only if you let it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

It was a quiet night.

The full moon hung high in the heavens accompanied by millions of stars. Not a cloud to be seen, an ideal night for passions to run wild. Normally people would be taking out their telescopes or arranging romantic picnics.

Sadly, nights like these only filled Sun Wukong with dread. It was a night like this when he was finally able to return after the Journey. That was the night he learned he had lost a precious treasure.

When he returned, he expected to be greeted by his subjects until Macaque showed himself. He expected to be strangled as the pale furred monkie admonished him for his recklessness. He expected to watch as fury transformed into tearful joy as they embraced one another for the first time in over five hundred years.

But that wasn’t what happened.

The moment he set foot back onto Flower Fruit Mountain, he sensed something was very wrong. Like his previous return trips, his subjects greeted him with loud celebrations. The new mothers showed off their infants. The young ones wasted no time climbing all over him, taking in the scent of their king.

The immortal elders, however, looked concerned.

That was when he realized Macaque’s scent on the mountain was far too faint. Even the magical signature of his clones no longer felt fresh.

Macaque was nowhere to be found. The monkeys reported Macaque had returned a few years after he stopped by the mountain earlier in the Journey but not as his usual self. He didn’t respond to any of their questions. He didn’t even take time to check in on the infants. He didn’t say a word.

He just entered the mansion, but no one saw him leave.

Entering the mansion, Wukong dashed to their room desperate for answers. Opening the doors, he saw the room was horribly empty, sure all of his belonging were exactly as he remembered them, but all of Macaque’s stuff was gone. Macaque’s closet was empty and all his books had vanished. Despite his desperate hopes, there wasn’t any signs of a struggle or hidden messages to be found.

Macaque left of his own free will, but why?

He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the bed they shared so many nights together. Every time he dared, he awoke expect to be greeted with the comforting warmth of familiar presence, instead he opened his eyes to a cold emptiness.

The lack of answers broke his heart, but he didn’t have time to start tearing the landscape apart trying to find him. Now that he was back for good, he had so many responsibilities to catch up on. He was determined to be a good king for his subjects and that meant ughthinking things through. Plus, he wanted to spend as much time with his master and brothers as possible.

Then there was the concerning fact all his previous allies had severed their alliance with him.

Apparently after all the fuss with the Demon Bull King, word had spread that Wukong broke their alliance by disrespecting protocol and attacking the royal family. Plus, his new position as a defender of humanity annoyed more than a few respectable demons. Combined with the sheer number of powerful demons he killed on the Journey cemented the idea that having an alliance with him would only end poorly.

He was banned from court meetings and the other kings in the surrounding areas wanted nothing to do with him. The chaotic nature of his past had finally caught up to him and in the worst possible way.

He was still recognized as the Monkey King of the Sun Court but was effectively blacklisted. No one wanted to mess with him, but they also didn’t want to interact with him. Not good for his mental health to say the least.

Simians are naturally social creatures. Wukong was used to constantly being around other people and learning new things. His time imprisoned was not kind. His first year of freedom had him constantly climbing over his brothers and master just to reassure himself that this was real.

And now that he couldn’t reconnect with old faces unless it was through a battle to the death…It forced him to delve into old memories. Memories that while sweet only made the emptiness more pronounced.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Sun Wukong smiled as he watched Macaque’s reaction.

The six-eared monkie was furiously pinching the bridge between his eyebrows after he shattered a boulder with a careless headbutt as though it would make his life mercifully easier. “You’ll have to explain it to me again. What did you mean by ‘no longer under Yama’s jurisdiction’?”

“Exactly what I said. I was napping. Having some time to myself, when out of nowhere some idiots tried to take my soul to the afterlife.” Wukong explained as though having entities of death rip out your soul to drag it to the underworld was no big deal.

“Bet you weren’t happy.” Macaque couldn’t help but smirk at the flippant tone. He just made it so difficult to stay mad.

“Not in the slightest. I barged my way to the top brass, bunch of cowards called the Ten Kings (totally undeserved titles by the way) and demanded what the fuck was going on.” He was still ticked off even if the payoff was sweet. Seriously! Did immortality mean nothing to these cowards? They couldn’t even play it off as him dying in battle. He was in the peak of his youth! “Can you believe they tried to play it off as a misunderstanding? Should have smacked the loudmouth when I was there.”

“So, through a series of ridiculous events, you erased your name from the records of the dead.” Macaque could easily piece together the rest from there. No matter how ridiculous the odds. He learned never to bet against his friend when a problem could be handled with brute strength or intimidation. If it didn’t look like such an answer was possible, clearly, they hadn’t experienced the force of a determined Wukong. Something about facing a ticked off monkie of practically infinite strength and invulnerability left harden conquerors pissing themselves.

It was hilarious.

“Not just mine. In my infinite wisdom, I erased the names of several of the monkey inhabitants of esteemed Flower Fruit Mountain, including yours.” Wukong playfully booped Macaque’s nose.

Turning away to hide a light blush, Macaque scoffed to cover his embarrassing response. “Typical. I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you doing something insane.”

“I know. I’m just that awesome.”

“So what? Are we now double immortal?” That was the question wasn’t it. Due to their master’s instructions, they were immortal and ageless, so what exactly would this give them? He didn’t feel any different. He couldn’t sense any new powers or changes in his instincts.

His counterpart, however, had other things on his mind. “Who cares. All I know is that those idiots have no control over our souls anymore.” And with that the King took his rightful place across Macaque’s lap as the other returned to his scrolls.

Wukong instead took the time to examine his friend, who finally gained enough confidence to fully drop his glamour and embrace his true appearance.

He still couldn’t believe Macaque actually had six ears. The weird part was how natural they looked, almost as if seeing him with only two was bizarre. The coolest part was how each pair softly glowed a different color. Blue. Purple. Red. Sometimes Wukong would just stare at them, imagining that he could see glittering stars emanating from that glow.

Suddenly those magnificent ears twitched. Macaque didn’t bother looking up from the bamboo scroll. “A trespasser...multiple, boar and vulture demon. Another hunting party”.

“Again. Ugh. Don’t these idiots ever give up!” Don’t get him wrong, Wukong loved a good fight. What better way to prove how superior you are to others than to steal what’s most precious to them? But even he was starting to grow bored with the sheer number of hunters that thought kidnapping his subjects was a quick cash grab.

After the fifth army he returned in pieces to the surrounding upstart lords, you’d think they’d take a hint.

Thankfully he wasn’t the only powerhouse on the mountain. “I haven’t tasted blood in a while. Why don’t I defend the kingdom while your highness enjoys a show?” Macaque set aside his reading material, eyes glittering with bloodlust.

Wukong returned the smirk with one of his own. “I’m always up for a good thrashing. One request: make it glorious.”

“Don’t I always.” Macaque joked as he retrieved his spear from his own shadow.

Wukong summoned his cloud and claimed a good vantage point. Once again, he marveled at his friend’s hearing. Judging by the distance it would have been at least three hours before he would have detected their presence.

Kicking back, he transformed some hair into a fruit platter and waited for the screams.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

To this day, Wukong knew Macaque was alive. Thanks to his efforts combined with the intense training, the monkie was double immortal. Besides, that monkkie was way too stubborn to die. He would survive purely on spite if he had to.

Macaque left, but why?

While he may have effectively isolated himself, that didn’t mean he didn’t hear about the other courts. A few centuries ago, he heard rumors about the formation of a new court by someone under the title of the Macaque King. Supposedly they were a powerful monkie who knew way more than he had the right to. For a brief moment, Wukong dared to hope it was his old friend, but it didn’t last. The few recounts he caught described him with black fur. Besides, he knew how much Macaque hated the title of King. Even when Wukong offered him the position as co-ruler of his kingdom, the pale monkie adamantly refused.

Still, he was curious.

For a few weeks he could have sworn he detected a familiar scent hiding underneath Mk’s. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. A few of the immortal monkeys questioned him on the mango infused scent and what his plans were. It was almost too much to take in.

To think he returned to teach his student instead of showing his face. It hurt just to think about it. He chose to ignore the beckoning scent until it became impossible to ignore MK’s leap in progress. Then it just vanished like it hadn’t been testing his patience. Like it hadn’t brought him to the brink of shaking the kid upside down until he confessed where his old friend was hiding. The kid probably grew wise, or someone told him to change his bathing habits, and by the next training session it was all but gone.

Dragging his hand down his face, Wukong tried to reevaluate his thoughts.

Getting mad at the kid wasn’t going to solve anything. He knew he hadn’t been the most attentive master. Hell, the whole hammer exercise at its core was a desperate attempt to remove a painful reminder of better times. His master would be disappointed in how he was running away from his problems, but would encourage him to take the steps to be better. Zhu Bajie would be a sarcastic little shit, trying to get him riled up so the monkie would prove him wrong. Sha Wujing would sit him down and wouldn’t let him leave until they talked everything through.

He had to make things right with the kid. He deserved a better master. And this New Years he was gonna get one.

He spoke, praying the winds would carry his voice to his Warrior.

“Macaque. I know it’s been a while, but…I-I want to talk. I know you’re out there, somewhere I can’t reach. I miss sparring with you. I miss lazy days napping in the shade by your side. I miss defending the mountain as we held contests to see who could take out the most trespassers before their common sense kicked in. I miss you. Please come home.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The moon was high in the sky. Stars danced in the heavens as the faintest hints of vibrations pulsed through the concrete from the late-night dance clubs. MK lay awake, his mind struggling to make sense of it all.

Ever since Macaque disappeared in order to remain undetected, he kept thinking about his relationship with the Monkey King. Sure, he was being trained and he was definitely making progress. The monkie was still on his case for supposedly cheating on him with another mentor. Nothing MK said or did could make the monkie think otherwise. Thankfully, he was no longer shooting him suspicious glares, but the underlying tension remained.

The sad truth is they just weren’t that close.

He would have expected to learn more about the Monkey King on a personal and emotional level, but he just couldn’t get past that wall. Their training sessions felt more like just the Monkey King arranged just to get it over with. There was no passion at all.

Okay, perhaps that last bit was an exaggeration.

When you peered past the arrogance and pride, you found one socially awkward monkie. It was similar to Red Son the more he thought about it, both seemed to find it difficult to talk to or relate to others in a friendly setting. Sure, Monkey King projected a friendly demeanor and called him “bud”, but if he didn’t know any better he could have sworn the monkie was afraid to take that final step.

The last few sessions had taken a bit of a turn in a positive direction as Sandy would say. Maybe Monkey King decided it was time to make a change? Maybe this was all a trick so MK would lower his guard and reveal Macaque’s identity? Maybe he was just tired and should have conked out an hour ago?

Maybe.

Reality was so different from the legends. When Tang first introduced him to the Monkey stories, he was hooked. He loved listening to the tales of the infamous trickster that flipped off every major religious figure with unbridled confidence. Meeting the Great Sage in the flesh was like a dream come true until he was exposed to the King’s less pleasant tendencies.

Mk couldn’t help but wonder just how much confidence the Monkey King had in his training skills. Did he ever train someone before? Could MK talk to someone about this without appearing even more ungrateful than he already looked? Why didn’t he stop Red Son from unsealing his father when he was there? Why didn’t he simply seal the entire family when they were reunited? Why did the five times immortal sage decide that now he needed to train a disciple? Was Monkey King not telling him something important?

He had so many questions and not even the foggiest idea of where to start looking. Or perhaps he did?

The truth was he missed Macaque. The dark-furred monkie may have only taught him for a month, but the progress he made and the level of care he was exposed to made him feel as though he had finally unlocked the ability to fly.

He missed the regular grooming. He missed learning about the demon community. He missed learning new ways to mess with Red Son through appropriate court manners.

Watching the fire user freeze up at the term “honorable prince of the Iron Bull Court” just made him laugh, when his hair combusted it really matched his face. Now that he thought about it, were those horns starting to peek out of his forehead? And maybe the slightest hint of a tufted tail swiping the bottom of his coat? Seeing the demon frantically compose himself was a treat he didn’t know he needed. He still had the video saved as one of his favorites, didn’t hurt that Mei caught it at the perfect angle.

Oh yeah, he missed that.

With any luck, New Years would be the start of something better.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On an island that remained surrounded by unquenchable storms, a single black-furred monkie sat cross-legged in a secluded part attached to the palace. All around him fruit trees and bushes bore a hefty bounty releasing an intoxicating scent of life.

Ears twitched.

Macaque opened his eyes, aroused from his meditation. It was odd. He had the faintest sensation that someone had been talking about him. Now that wasn’t exactly unusual, he made plenty of allies and enemies across the centuries. What was odd was that the voice sounded like someone he once cherished.

But that couldn’t be right.

The deceptive silence of his personal orchard gave him no answers. Not that he really expected it to.

For some reason he refused to identify, Macaque turned to the single peach tree in the grove. A tribute from his past and a reminder of his mistakes. But it was also a valuable resource once he learned the truth about the peach’s properties. He used its powers to protect many happy relationships, if only it could have helped him so long ago.

No matter.

He still had many projects to work on, including one successor just rife with insecurities. He honestly felt bad ducking out as he did. If things were different, he would have offered him a new life. His Stars were always happy to welcome a new member into their budding community.

As a bonus, his presence would have interrupted their constant attempts to set him up with new dates. He adored their efforts but being paired with partners who only wanted power or he would view only as friends was not something he enjoyed. Although watching them mentally destroy those they didn’t find suitable for him was quite entertaining.

Either way, New Years was coming up fast and he still needed to approve a few changes. His Stars were determined to make sure this event topped last years in every way possible, but they had to make sure they didn’t set the orchard on fire again. Or worse, they could launch the fireworks into the storm barrier. He wasn’t sure why or how, but the tornadoes and clouds turned different colors as explosions rang throughout the night.

It was beautiful but lost its charm after the third day.

#lego monkie kid au #Vanishing Shadow Au #sun wukong #mk #monkie kid #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #rainbow eared macaque #crazy family #Macaque!Dad

[amysteriousmessenger]

‘Love Bites’ Vampire!Saeran Choi Drabbles

Hello! This is one of my slightly belated pieces for @mysme-rbb, which I worked on with the very, very talented and sweet @amagicalduckling <3 Their art is so beautiful and I’m honoured to have been paired with them for some Saeran pieces! Please check out @amagicalduckling for more of their beautiful artwork, they are criminally underrated!!  Tw: mentions of blood, biting, vampirism, rough kissing Will be under the cut after Ray!

Vampire! Ray Drabble

Ray was melancholic by nature, you knew that, but you’d never had been able to guess why it if hadn’t been for that fateful night in the garden. He always did such a good job of hiding his fangs from you and brushing his hair over his ears so you couldn’t see their slightly pointed tips. He always kept his distance as best as he could, never coming too close into your personal space. You’d assumed it was out of respect and the nervousness of overstepping the boundaries, this idea was always aided by the fact that he usually looked a little bit strained whenever he was in your company.

The way you came to find out about Ray was because you had foolishly pricked your finger on a rose that he had been trying to show you outside. With the beautiful arrangements only being illuminated by moonlight, it had been difficult to see what you were doing, and you’d placed your finger directly onto the little spike and yelped in pain. As soon as you had pulled your hand back, to indicate what had caused you to cry out, Ray had immediately brought his own hand up to his mouth and feverishly covered it. You were confused and thought that perhaps Ray was sensitive to the sight of blood, but it was when he turned to run from you that you saw the white, iridescent fangs peering from behind his lips. You saw them, and he knew that you had. Ray ran at top speed away from you, leaving you with the drop of the blood slowly dripping down the side of your finger.

You felt a little lightheaded from the sight and had to stumble your way over to the bench, a… vampire? Surely, such things like that didn’t exist. They weren’t real. They were myths. Folklore. Children’s horror stories to tell before bed. And yet, as you considered Ray, really thought about him, you realised how quickly it all added up. He was so pale, sickly looking even at the best of times. You’d thought that the prominent blue veins on his neck and wrists was a result of his pasty complexion, but that was clearly not the truth of the matter. It also occurred to you that you never really saw him during the day, but he had always excused this fact as he must work arduously long hours and the only time he could find to get away and visit you was into the early hours of the night. While you supposed that there was at least some truth in that statement, it didn’t help the fact that it aligned with what you thought could be coming into fruition. Was he really a vampire? Had he been trying to hide it from you for all this time?  

And those fangs. Those could not be denied. They were the teeth of a predator, a hidden threat that he had tried so hard to keep a secret from you. So many questions raced through your head, and yet all you could worry about was where Ray was. He had left so quickly, clearly a bit distressed. You felt somewhat guilty for your own carelessness, but how were you to know? There was no way you would have guessed what was really happening here at Mint Eye. You had only been here to test a game, for crying out loud.

Suddenly, you felt anxious to be alone in the gardens at night, especially without Ray. Even if he was hiding something this serious from you, he was still the only person that you had gotten to make yourself friendly with. Well, in his case, more than a little bit friendly, but that was besides the point in that moment. You stood, trying to find your way through the maze of flowers and get back to your room but with little success. As you turned the corner, you spotted a figure at the other end of the path and it caused you to cry out in surprise, maybe slightly even in fear. It was Ray.

You’d never thought that the sight of Ray would ever frighten you, but as he stood there, pale and gaunt surrounded by the red flushes of rose petals, you had to wonder how you hadn’t realised it sooner. He looked guilty, and scared. So, so scared. You put your hands up to him slowly, asking if he was okay, but instead of receiving any sort of reply about his own wellbeing, Ray flurried out several apologies at you. He averted his gaze downwards, as though he felt as though he was no longer allowed to look at you directly for what he was. You stared at him as he spoke, focused on the slight protrusion of his sharp teeth over his lips. It was obvious that he had practiced speaking without making them visible, so you could only really see them if you were already looking for them.

‘Ray… It’s okay.’ You whispered, coming a little bit closer to him. He took a step back, moving his back up against the roses further so that he was surrounded by them. If it had been at any other moment, you would have taken the time to think about the fact he looked like a delicate portrait right then, the passion of the red surrounding his pale frame. But alas, you did not have that luxury.

‘It’s not! I scared you, oh how could I ever forgive myself! How could you ever forgive me for this! I should have been able to show more restraint… My savior was right, she’s always right…’ He replied almost frantically, to the point where you weren’t quite sure if he was talking to you or telling you his own inner monologue.

‘M-My Savior said that I’m not strong enough yet, which is why I find… you difficult to be around. I want to be around you always but- she says you’re too tempting for someone like me.’

‘Too tempting…?’ You asked, a slightly unsure as to what he meant. That was, until he gestured to your bleeding fingertip, and it suddenly made more sense to you. ‘I don’t mind if you… want to be around me. I want to be around you too.’ You added, attempting to phrase it in the same way that he did, since he was clearly skirting around using certain vocabulary. It made you realised that there was a good chance that Ray was unhappy about the fact he wanted you in such a way. If he allowed himself to get too close, he would inevitably bring you pain.

As you stepped closer to him, you watched as he reached his own leathered hand towards his mouth, anxiously biting onto the tips of the fabric. He wasn’t just chewing it, he was really biting it, to the point you were worried he might hurt himself.

You were suddenly moving quickly down the path towards him, ‘Ray! Please, stop that. It’s okay! I’m not scared of you.’

‘I’m scared that I might hurt you!’ He almost wailed. You knew that there was an obsessive nature to Ray, which walked hand in hand with his melancholy, but you knew that he wouldn’t hurt you like this. For the most part, he was tender-hearted and sensitive. Of course, he had room in that heart for hate, but yet, so much more room for sensitivity.

‘You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you.’

‘Please, be more careful with who you award your trust to. I don’t deserve it.’ He replied, but pulled his own glove away stiffly, since he didn’t want to worry you any further. At such a distance, he had nothing to distract himself from the pull he felt towards your blood.

‘If you want it, take it. I don’t want to see you be so strained over this. I don’t know what’s happening here at Magenta, but I know that you’re good. And kind.’ You were at his side, offering your hand to him. Initially, he tried to move his body away from your hand and cover his teeth again with his hand, but it was evident that he was growing more and more needy by the passing second. You tried to assure him that it was okay and reached out a slightly shaky hand to his cold cheek. ‘And I want to help you.’

After a few moments of tentative consideration, he took your offer. Ray watched your eyes as he held your finger in both of his hands, as though it was something fragile, delicate even. He hesitated before bringing it to his own lips, the thin line of dark red suddenly giving a burst of colour to his otherwise exceedingly white pallor. He gently took the blood that was already at the surface of your skin, closing his eyes as he did so, but you couldn’t decide whether it was out of shame or whether it was to savour the moment between the two of you. You gasped as you felt the sharpness of his teeth graze against your skin before he let the tip of them bite into your soft flesh, producing more of the red he was so desperately craving. It wasn’t as painful as you thought it would be, but your heart was still racing, nonetheless. When he was done, he pressed a single, sorry kiss into the palm of your hand and apologised for hurting you, adding that he was undeserving of your pain as he wiped the rest of the blood away with a handkerchief out of his pocket.

‘I’d rather be hurt a thousand times over than for you to have to suffer even once…’ He whispered into the darkness of the garden. Not that he would feel bold enough to tell you, but Ray undeniably saw the poetry in tasting your blood. He’s ashamed of what he is, but he relished in the fact that you were willing to share such a vital piece of yourself with him like this. He entirely made a mental plan to carry the handkerchief with him at all times, as a token and reminder of this newfound connection with you.

Vampire! Suit Saeran Drabble 

Meeting Saeran was an experience unto itself, let alone processing the surprise you received in how differently he treated you and himself. Saeran doesn’t hide what he is in the same way that Ray did, he acts proud of it. A shining example of what Mint Eye could offer to people with the Elixir, but only if they were strong enough to deserve it. He’s the strongest Believer and the strongest Vampire produced from the Elixir, The Savior said it herself. She called him her ‘One True Offspring’. When you had asked what that meant, since Ray had never mentioned anything like that to you, Saeran had angrily snapped that firstly, he shouldn’t have to answer your questions and secondly, it meant that he had been turned using The Savior’s own blood in the Elixir given to him. That meant that he was special, and better than anyone else there. He repeated that a lot, but you were never quite who if he was saying that to you or to himself but he clearly made an attempt to believe it, at least for his own sake.

Saeran carried himself around Magenta so differently to Ray, you heard his footsteps from down the corridor when he wanted you to know to anticipate him and yet you never heard him when he suddenly appeared behind you. He was most definitely choosing when to make his presence known and when he wanted to startle you from standing silently around a corner. Saeran certainly disproved to you the lore that Vampires needed to be invited into rooms in order to gain entrance, as he came in whenever he pleased. He never hid his fangs either or tried to cover his ears either with his unkempt hair, if anything, he seemed to enjoy the attention that could be brought to them by smirking at you or asking if ‘you like what you see, Princess?’ You could feel the anger in his voice, he was practically dripping with a rage that he did not know how to release properly. It weighed on his shoulders, and somehow seemed to push him in on himself to the point where he was constantly forcing himself to stand taller, to be louder so that he would not be entirely consumed by it. The atmosphere he carried was tense, to say the least. It seemed to make him paler. Saeran’s dark undereyes were no longer something a simple goodnight sleep could fix; they were almost bruises of their own. Purple, sunken.

While he was not lacking for blood in the same way that Ray had suffered without, it appeared that Saeran was overworking himself to the point that the added sustenance did little to actually aid him, so he kept on coming back for more and more each time. He appeared at any hour of the day or night, which suggested that he was no longer really sleeping, or if he was he was only sleeping for very short amounts of time, and it was really showing him his face. You were sure his appearance must have sat somewhere between Dorian Gray and his portrait, beautiful yet rotting. The way he felt on the inside was slowly, yet surely, manifesting itself. He was so capable of kindness, and yet he never allowed himself to admit to it. If Saeran didn’t have his cruelty, he didn’t have anything. He needed to hold onto it to hold himself together as the Persecutor.

His kisses were rougher too, leaving your lips feeling puffy, tender, and always breathless. He seemed to thrive on the fact he could make you feel so weak, as though it was precisely your weakness that gave him the strength he needed to carry on this strained life he led. He’d sneak up behind you frequently, with the confidence that Ray never quite found, and bury his face into the side of your neck, running rough kisses along it until you sigh against him from the touch, not even bothering to move your hair out of the way as he did so. Even as he kissed you like this, he’d taunt you for enjoying his touch so much in comparison to Ray, who barely ‘had the guts’ to touch you freely. Saeran would lift up your finger to show him the tiny bite impressions that Ray had originally left, only to have Saeran go over them more harshly with his own bite, before moving back up to your throat.

He dragged his fangs along the thin skin of your neck, so you knew it was coming, before promptly biting you. He doesn’t try to be delicate like Ray, and he’s more likely to take too much blood and leave you feeling woozy. He’ll take as much blood as he wants, really. Once you inevitably faint in his arms, he’d usually carry you back and placed you on the bed, but only so he can reprimand you for being such a burden to him. He’d never admit to anything else, especially not to feeling bad about pushing you to your limit.

‘Heh… Don’t look so happy with yourself, your blood tastes like shit anyway. I should go and find someone better, someone sweeter.’ He smirked before laughing, his eyes alive with a frantic excitement. He still had a small steak of blood running down his lips and onto his chin, which he promptly wiped away onto his black suit sleeve without releasing you from his unwavering gaze.

There were times when he’d suddenly stop laughing and looked at his blood-covered hand in disgust, before dragging that same gaze over towards you. He’d look at the redness on his hands and try to wipe it away, even after it dried and would not budge without soap and water. Saeran would still furiously rub his skin against the fabric of his clothes in a vain attempt to wipe his slate clean. You were never able to decipher what Saeran felt in the moment that he decided that ‘play time’ was over, but he never seemed happy about the outcome of the collision the two of you had found yourselves in, even when he was the one that instigated it. He’d half-assedly throw a bag of food from the kitchen at you, telling you that you ought to be grateful for having such a kind master for feeding you, before promptly turning on his heels to leave and slamming the door shut.

He was complicated, that was for sure.

 Vampire! GE Saeran Drabble 

Saeran had been through so much, and yet he was coming out stronger and stronger from it each day. He had a lot to process, about himself, the things that had happened to him and the things that he has done to other people, especially to you. Saeran had a difficult time accepting the he hurt you. He understands that he did it and he has accepted the fact that he did it, but somehow his heart never wanted to believe it. No matter how many times you told him he needed to forgive himself for it, Saeran knew that he never could.

He tried to make it up to you in every way that he could think of. He was so loving, so caring. He always served your food first, gave you extra helpings and always made dessert for afterwards. His food was always so well made, filled with all the vitamins and minerals that your body could have possibly needed and always tasted like he had been cooking his whole life. He’d even try to feed you the last few bites if you’d let him, just to make sure that you’d gotten enough food. It’s sweet, and he does it out of care, but there’s a part of Saeran that does it because he feels as though he needs to make amends to your body for the way he treated it.

He’s not keen on drinking your blood, he feels as though he’s taking advantage of you and doesn’t enjoy the fact that he has to hurt you to be able to do it. He’d looked into alternatives that he could try, such as blood banks or from animals, just any means of supply that didn’t involve hurting you. It didn’t work out very well and in the end it started to do him more harm than good, so he usually just tried to wait for as long as he can in between biting you. And even then, he waits for you to offer because he doesn’t want to pressure you into giving up so sacred for him, Saeran would much rather have himself suffer than to make you feel any sort of uneasy around him.

He was a lot more considerate and knowledgeable about the outside world nowadays, and would look into various ways of making it less painful for you: the most effective one to date being numbing creams. He’s not a fan of the chemical taste of the cream in his mouth, but he would happily deal with it if it was for your sake. While he did still have a preference for your neck, because it felt a little bit more romantic to him, Saeran would always give you the choice on where you wanted him to bite. He knows it’s not his body to dictate, and if anything, he actually wants you to put some more of your own rules in place about it. He’d be more than happy if you wanted him to do it somewhere less visible so that you could hide it from people. As long as you weren’t hiding your actual relationship with him, he wouldn’t mind. He’s very understanding of the fact that sometimes it is a little awkward to have marks like that in public and that you didn’t want to answer questions from strangers all of the time.

He was very gentle with it, making sure to apply the numbing cream beforehand and to avoid any particularly sensitive spots while never biting too deep. Saeran never took more than what was absolutely necessary either, even if you told him that it was okay to do it. You figured that he always remembered the time that Saeran would make you faint after taking too much blood, and that it must weigh on his consciousness heavily. Telling him to take more than the bottom-line wasn’t something you frequently told him to do though, since you already knew he was restraining himself and trying to put some boundaries in place for your own protection, so you didn’t want to push him. He cleaned the area after drinking from it and pressed a little patterned band-aid onto it and sealed it with a kiss, just for good measure. It really didn’t sit right with him that he had to hurt you like this so he tried to make amends for it wherever he could.

He always wiped his mouth before he kissed you, since he thought it would be rather cruel to make you taste the blood that you had just willingly offered up to him. You’d find the taste unpleasant anyway, even if Saeran enjoyed it. Saeran was rather poetic at the best of times, but it was especially true when he was feeling a little bit drunk off of your love (and blood). If you ever asked him what your blood tasted like, he’d write you a verbal essay on how sweet it is. It’s intoxicating to him and it always had been, even when he was both Ray and Saeran. The two of them were so confused by their sudden feelings and this undeniable pull towards you that neither could escape from. If you let him, he’ll probably even get a little bit cliché with how he feels like he’s reached some form of enlightenment by your blood being the thing that can kept him alive, along with how he can feel your love beating through his veins and giving him strength. Sometimes you can’t help but cringe at some of the things that Saeran says, but he means it in such a sweet way that you find it even more affectionate.

In times like this, Saeran was so adorable and kind-hearted. He generally felt a bit bad about himself, since he knows that he can’t ever become a human again as a result of his time in Mint Eye, so you have to make the extra effort to love him in this moment. You cupped his face with both of your hands and told him how precious he was to you and that he is, and always will be, the most important thing in your life.

Vampire! Unknown Drabble

There were no words that allowed you to accurately describe Unknown. He was exactly that. You never quite knew what he was thinking and for the most part he definitely relished in that fact. His actions were unpredictable, and he barely seemed to keep a routine for too long, lest someone figured it out and learned to predict his moves. Everyone walked on eggshells around him out of fear and uncertainty, and he seemed to enjoy it. He found it humorous, even. He enjoyed taking you by surprise in particular, it was his main form of entertainment. You were a toy for him to play with when he got bored.

He was sort of what you expected a modern-day vampire to be, look-wise and attitude-wise. His attire was certainly a change. It felt as though he was trying to actively reflect the anguish he felt within, but at the same time, it was an external threat. A threat that if you got too close to him, you’d be in danger of getting hurt yourself. The spikes were enough to ensure that, even if Unknown wasn’t. He reminded you of Saeran, but you could tell that there was a stark difference between the two of them. Unknown rarely displayed anger in the same way that Saeran did, it was certainly there, but it wasn’t as explosive. Sometimes it was cold, warped, and vindictive underneath layers of you weren’t sure what. Like Saeran, he made little attempt to hide his fangs or ears, but he didn’t necessarily show them off unless he was actively trying to taunt someone. It was more as though he didn’t care about them until they were of use to him. At which point, he’d smirk and release the sharpened canines: a spark of excitement in his eyes inviting you closer, to dare test him.

When he wanted to feed from you, he’d summon you to wherever he is rather than coming to see you himself. After all, you were a failed experiment who couldn’t even do your job of talking to the RFA correctly; being an assistant was the best job you’d be able to manage, so he told you that you ought to be grateful for it especially since Magenta wasn’t in the habit of keeping ‘useless’ things around for very long.

He was usually desperate when he called for you because of the long hours he forced his body to endure, even throughout the daytime when he’d naturally be sleeping. He entirely believed that because he’s strong, he wasn’t allowed to feel anything except for that strength, so he had to keep himself at the same standard of work every single day in order to maintain it. He’d burn the candle at both ends and then continue trying to light the wick. When you thought of him, there was always one particular instance that came to mind when he had no choice but to display an element of weakness to you, and it enraged him. He had been out on a recon mission for The Savior and had over-exerted himself in the process, sustaining an injury. He had crashed into your room afterwards, panting and holding onto his bleeding wound, drinking enough blood in one go that he’d made you  back onto your bed with light-headedness. He hadn’t done that since, and rarely pushed you past that point, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to dance with the limit of it. He’d say it was because he preferred to tease you with it, to savour what belonged to him, even though you knew it wasn’t his only reason for taking it slow.

How he bit you depended on what mood he was in, but his typical go-to is to have you sitting on his lap while he’s at his desk and facing him so that he can pull you towards him by your hips, making sure that your collarbones are already level with his mouth. He shouldn’t have to do any of the work, he wanted you already in position for him.

Unknown’s hands were roughly on your shoulders, both pulling you towards him and holding you steady. He bites first, kissed later. There’s little warning to feeling his teeth, except for the second or so beforehand where you feel his hot breath fan over you, just before you feel the sharp break of that skin underneath. Sometimes he’d hover for a few seconds longer than usual because he sought the thrill of you not knowing when the pain was coming. He has a preference for the neck and collarbones, not that he’d never explain why to you but, simply, he doesn’t think he should have to anyway. You’d have laughed at the cliché nature of it, but you’d rather he kept it to the same area instead of spreading it all over your body. That being said, he had bitten your thighs a couple of times when your neck had been a little too sore for him to drink from there, when the skin needed time to heal.

Unknown swapped between biting and kissing at your neck, making his way up towards your mouth to continue the blood-tinted kiss there. Each time you tasted the metallic tinge on your tongue, it left your breathless, but not as much as the bite he’d leave on your lower lip did. You wouldn’t admit it to Unknown, but those kisses were some of your favourites that you had shared with him.

Not only did he leave your skin with actual bites, but he made point of littering your throat with lovebites each time too. As though the real bites weren’t enough for him, Unknown always had to go one step further with his act of possession over you. It was a cocky game, in his own mind, he needed to show that you were his and that no other Believer was permitted to look at you in the same that that he did.

When he was done and needed the wipe the blood away from his face, he’d wipe it straight onto the back of his hand. He’d make no effort to properly clean it until he went to wash his hands, it didn’t seem to bother him.

 Vampire! Savior Saeran Drabble 

It’s ironic, to Saeran, that crosses and biblical imagery did nothing to inhibit a Vampire, especially considering how linked the two aesthetics were. They truly went hand in damned hand. Mint Eye had always been steeped in Catholicism, as it was the core religion of the previous Savior, but as Saeran was forced to take the throne, he had not made any changes to those principles. He had been taught to instil and swallow those same beliefs in himself as they had been handed to him, even if they were not truly his own. He had been prepared in such a way that he would be able to take over Mint Eye when he had truly reached the peak of his strength and was intended to forge a new way for the organisation.

You had been bathed, dressed, and summoned to the throne room, where many Believers and the Savior in question were already gathered. You’d heard whispers that you were going to be cleansed, but the atmosphere you found yourself in did not seem to fit the one you associated with a cleansing. However, The Savior had yet to conduct a ceremony of his own since taking the throne and you started to fear that, perhaps, you were to be the leading spectacle. You walked between the Believers, as you were told to kneel before Saeran.

He was so lifeless in comparison to the Saerans you had once encountered before him. He was so sad, empty. At the very least, Ray’s melancholy had an element of hope to it, but as The New Savior stood before you, there was little more than a shell of the man that you had come to know. Your interaction with him was limited, but it was so plainly obvious to you that he was just being used as a pawn, a pawn in disguise of the King. It seemed distinctly sacrilegious to have a vampire dressed in religious garments, but you supposed that Saeran had probably not received a choice in either of those matters.

Another Believer came up from behind you and asked for your wrist, which he then wiped over with disinfectant fluid before presenting it to The Savior. Saeran reached out his hand to grab your arm, pulling it towards him. He was silent as his teeth suddenly found their way into your wrist, but he barely took more than a small mouthful of blood. Even with your arm in his grasp, Saeran said nothing and continued to just plainly stare ahead into the masses, occasionally throwing glances in your direction.

‘Are you ready for the next initiation step?’ He asked. You could still see your blood in his mouth, the thin line of red providing a stark colour contrast to the rest of his chilly pallor.

‘Yes.’ You replied.

Once done, he turned and pushed the red Elixir bottle towards you, tilting it into your open mouth. It was lukewarm and overwhelmed all of your senses with the metallic taste of blood and chemicals. It burned. Tasting blood like this felt so wrong. You felt it fill your mouth and you forced it down your throat swallow, gasping for air as soon as it passed. Was that… his blood? In the same way that he had been given his Savior’s blood?

You were asked to stand as Saeran took another step towards you. You tried to watch his eyes, looking for any hint of the life that Ray and Saeran had once brought to them, but The Savior in front of you had clearly managed to subdue that hope. Or rather, he had been forced and conditioned to abandon it.

Almost sombrely, he pressed a small kiss against your lips; causing you to once again receive a fresh taste of blood. Except this time, it was the remnants of your own that had been left on his own tongue. There was little free affection in his kiss, and it appeared to be more about the process of the initiation rather than anything to do with kindness or tenderness. It only lasted for a second or so and was nothing intimate, ending almost as soon as it had begun. He pulled away first, placing the bottle that he had been previously holding back onto the throne room altar.

You were hugely aware of the fact that you were still being watched by an entire room of people and felt so exposed, so seen. It was uncomfortable to have to wait there for it to be over when you would have much rather have had this be a private affair: not that you had been warned in advance anyway.

He pressed his bloody lips against your forehead, leaving a red stain against your skin. Saeran then reached a cold hand towards your face, dragging his thumb across the bloody kissmark and smearing it into the shape of an eye. A baptism.

Vampire! SE Saeran Drabble

He was trying. Saeran was really trying. Being around people was difficult, well, everything was a little difficult for him. It was taking all of his energy to adjust and process things, so you rarely saw him during the day. He was always pretty low energy and spent the majority of his time asleep or alone, with you only ever really catching glimpses of him at night. You guessed that it was at least a good thing that he was catching up on the sleep that he had deprived himself of for so many years, even if it meant you rarely got to see him.

Saeran didn’t really talk to anyone anyway, only you and his brother. That is, whenever he can be bothered to talk to Saeyoung as he often complained that he’s too tired for conversation. He usually didn’t have the energy to talk to his brother that much because of how hyperactive the other was. Saeyoung understands that Saeran needs time, even if it hurt him to not be able to pull his brother close after all of those years apart. Irreparable damage had been done where they would need years to repair it. There were even a few tense moments where Saeran had thought that Saeyoung was taunting him, or not trusting him, by wearing his crucifix necklace. Of course, his brother tried to explain that that was not the case and that Saeran wasn’t affected by religious symbols anyway, but it still seemed to annoy him. Eventually, Saeyoung stopped wearing his necklace and kept it in a drawer next to his bed, feeling as though the faith he believed in was probably redundant now that he knew how it had been tainted by the people he trusted.

Saeyoung had offered to let Saeran drink his blood before, as a way of making reparations to his twin, but Saeran flat out denied it: saying it would be disgusting to drink from him. He also threw in the comment that Saeyoung’s blood would taste ‘like shit’ because of his diet anyway, which was entirely understandable. Neither of you could fault Saeran for that.

Saeran felt rather conflicted and tentative about drinking your blood, often feeling pangs of guilt for how he previously treated you as Unknown. He often waited right up until he was pretty desperate before letting on that he was in need, and you’d have to realise on your own that his tiredness was not just coming from social exhaustion. He probably wouldn’t ask, so you’d have to offer.

When it happened, it usually happened in the same way with Saeran turning you around so that your back was facing him and you couldn’t look at him. He already felt some sort of way about biting you in the first place so the last thing he wanted was to have to look into your eyes as he did it. He felt more comfortable like this, and he felt as though he could take his time rationalising it a bit more when he wasn’t being watched. ‘Don’t turn around.’ He said tiredly. He sighed, clearly feeling a little awkward but not wanting to rush into it. It would be in this moment where he thought about how roughly he used to do it to you and wonder where he had gotten that confidence from. Truly, it felt like a lifetime ago.

Saeran placed his hands onto your shoulders, pausing right above where he was going to bite for a few seconds, letting his hot breath fan over you until he finally broke the skin. He wasn’t as rough as he used to be, and it was quite obvious how much he had been restraining himself by how quickly he drank. ‘Sorry.’ He whispered under the wight of the guilt. He always sounded like he was crying when he did this, even if you didn’t see any tears fall. You placed your hand on top of his own just to let him know that it was okay. Saeran wasn’t one for words, so he appreciated the support even if he didn’t tell you that directly.

He sat behind you for a few moments while he calmed down, his thumbs ever so slightly rubbing circles into your shoulders; a rare sign of intimacy from him. He doesn’t kiss you in that moment for a number of reasons. He felt parasitic, and he didn’t want to tie that emotion to affection. And yet, undeniably because he doesn’t want you to see him for what he is. Saeran carries a lot of shame, especially when he’s feeling so vulnerable as he does when he’s in that state. He wiped the blood from his lips onto the back of his sleeve, but would change his jumper shortly afterwards because it made him feel dirty to even look at. Saeran didn’t want to sit with your blood on him, that was cruel to the both of you.

You’d often find that he’d leave you a little gift the next day but would claim to not have any knowledge of it. It was always a little thing that only he would think to bring you, such a small flower from the garden or one of his snacks out of the kitchen.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme-rbb #saeran choi #saeran choi x reader #mystic messenger fanfic #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger reader insert #mystic messenger self insert #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger hcs #mystic messenger drabbles

[vennilavee]

someone like you

pairing: levi x reader (modern au; tbah universe) summary: “Someone like me, huh?” You bite back, your throat beginning to close up, “Does that apply to you, too? Would you listen to anything that ‘someone like me’ has to say?” warnings: cursing and a fight a/n: for this drabble prompt req

You were afraid that this would happen. After all, they do say that dating co-workers can be messy. You had a feeling this could happen. And guess what, it did-

“You think that’s the best way to engage the youth in the Underground? They won’t respond to all of this, the frills and fake happy shit-” Levi says flatly, his arms crossed over his chest with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, then what’s your idea? I don’t hear you saying anything useful,” You mutter.

“Those kids won’t listen to anything you have to say,” Levi says honestly, “You look like you’ve never stepped foot down there-”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You think those shitty kids would listen to a word that someone from aboveground has to say?”

“I don’t know, Levi, you tell me. Since you were one of those shitty kids-”

“You’ve got another thing coming if you think those kids will listen to anything that someone like you has to say-”

“Someone like me, huh?” You bite back, your throat beginning to close up, “Does that apply to you, too? Would you listen to anything that ‘someone like me’ has to say?”

Levi can be hurtful when he’s speaking with his blinders on. You can kind of understand his point, but he didn’t have to make it so… personal. But maybe, because ever since the lines of professionalism and dating have been blurred in the workplace for the last few months, you both took it to the next level when neither of you meant to.

Still. You don’t want to speak with him. You’re pissed at him, so upset that he undermined and questioned you like that in front of Erwin and made it a direct attack on you as a person.

You wouldn’t have considered it him undermining you if he didn’t make it so personal. 

Someone like you. Why does that sting so much? Someone like you- who would never understand the struggles that he’d gone through himself? Someone like you- who was too much, and not enough at the same time? Is that what he meant?

You don’t say goodbye to him when you leave work, or give him a quick kiss and a promise that you’ll call him later. You tell him you don’t want to speak to him when he tries to talk to you in your office and you hide in the comfort that your dark blue drapes bring.

You go home to your apartment without checking if he’s still around, despite your heart screaming for you to go to him. But you need space from him, and you hate how small he made you feel just in the fraction of two minutes.

It’s your first major fight and Levi genuinely doesn’t know what to do. He’s torn between showing up at your apartment and giving you space like you requested. His instincts are screaming for him to fix this, to get you to talk to him. But in the end, he decides to just give you space. Because he thinks you’ll be even more upset if he shows up without respecting your wishes.

He hates it. He hates that he had said what he said ‘someone like you’, those words ring in his mind like an annoying alarm. A reminder that he had hurt your feelings so easily and a reminder that he was the cause of your sad, dark eyes. And the way your shoulders had slumped in on yourself.

He messed up. He knows it, and Erwin knows it. Erwin had given him a disapproving look after you had left the conference room and Levi had met his eyes with a glare, warning him to mind his business.

Erwin said nothing and Levi only stared at the ceiling in frustration.

And Levi is currently staring up at the ceiling while sitting on his couch. He’s restless, leg bouncing on his freshly mopped hardwood floors. He’s been on a cleaning binge, but nothing can ease the anxiety of wondering what you’re doing. Are you okay? Did you want to break up with him?

His phone lays on the couch, almost mocking him. Levi abruptly stands up and swipes to your text message thread, which has been dry since the fight-

levi: hello

It takes you ten minutes to answer. In that time, he dusts off the coffee table and the television stand. Again.

you:  hi levi: can i come over.

Five minutes, with the three dots indicating that you’re typing appearing and vanishing. 

you: okay

Levi leaves his apartment with his wallet and car keys, on a mission. But first, he stops by for some of your favorite flowers.

Your eyes are a little red when you let him into your apartment. Red and wary. Levi hates this, hates that he did this. That he made you cry, all because of his inability to properly communicate to you what he was thinking.

���Thanks,” You mutter, taking the flowers from him, “But I didn’t want-”

“I know,” Levi murmurs, skin warm at the faint touch of your fingers on his, “Please, just hear me out.”

“Okay,” You finally say after a few moments with a shrug. You gesture for him to sit on the couch and the way you’re not facing him, body turned into yourself as if to make you look smaller… it hurts him. Because he did that.

“What did you mean?” You say, beating him to the punch, “Someone like you? What does that mean?”

Levi’s eyes are sharp and so are yours. His heart is thudding out of his chest, and the only way you can tell that he’s a little nervous is because he’s subtly wringing his hands together.

“It means…” Levi exhales and squeezes his eyes shut, “That I’m stupid-”

“Yeah, I know that,” You snort and roll your eyes.

“Be serious,” Levi chides you without any heat in his voice, “I didn’t mean it that way- just that… you’re not one of them. It’s different for the kids down there versus growing up here-”

“I know that,” You repeat, “But I’ve been doing this work for almost six years, too. It’s not fair for you to undermine me like that. A-and to me, it sounded like you meant that I’m not like you and that you’re holding that against me.”

“I know,” Levi breathes, “I know that’s what it sounded like. I only meant that those kids underground won’t take us seriously if we go in there ignoring their circumstances with fake, shitty smiles. I’m glad that place has never touched you in that way.”

You look down at your hands, unable to meet his steely eyes. But you’ve never known Levi to be a liar, and this time is no different.

“Please look at me,” Levi begs and you look up, overwhelmed by emotion, “I’m… sorry. I’m sorry I undermined you in front of our boss. And that I said what I said. I know I hurt you.”

“Yeah, you did,” You sigh, “And I’m sorry I called you a shitty kid.”

Levi lets out a breathless chuckle, “I think I deserved at least that much.” 

You open your arms to him for a hug and even though it’s only been a few hours since he saw you last, he sighs in relief once he settles next to you. You know words are difficult for Levi, but you know him well enough to know when he’s trying and when he’s being sincere. 

“When I say someone like you,” Levi murmurs, nosing your neck and holding you close to him, “I mean someone as bright and kind as you doesn’t belong down there.” He kisses your cheek, letting his lips linger there.

“Don’t say that,” You mumble, swatting his chest lightly, “That implies that you and anyone in the underground is undeserving of basic kindness.”

Levi only stares at you before nodding and turning your cheek towards him for a real kiss. He mumbles his apologies in the form of kisses, in the way he holds you close as if you’ll let him go. He breathes his apologies into your skin slowly and languidly… So you believe him.

tags: @simpingmaize​ @kentobean​ @captainchrisstan​ @alrightberries​ @puredivinity​ @regalillegal​ @castellandiangelo​ @bakuhoesworld​ 

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi x you #levi ackerman x you

[sichengtual]

how sweet it is (to be loved by you)

— summary: some loves are meant to run too deep, some loves are meant to stand the test. luckily, for you and cheol, nothing has ever posed a threat.

— pairing: choi seungcheol x reader.

— genre: fluff ; established relationship ; 70's au, part of the tiny dancer universe.

— word count: 2665

— warnings: mentions of smoking.

happy birthday to the love of my life @svtxsoju! i love you so so so much 💞

Seungcheol had never been hard to read.

From the very first moment you’d met, you’d seen he always wore his heart on his sleeve. You liked that about him; the way you could tell how he was feeling by paying attention to the size of his smile and the gleam in his eyes. For a while, you wondered if he was like that when only you were there to see. A sort of prize won after confidence, the kind that came with a great deal of trust. Your heart always leapt at the thought; of Seungcheol trusting you enough to let his walls down, of letting you in with such ease you’d wonder if he just wasn’t afraid of ever getting hurt… not by you, but by the world.

After a while, you finally came to see it wasn’t quite like that. Seungcheol just trusted people. Not only his friends (which you were at the time) or the people closest to him, but the strangers he passed by on the street. The people he ran into at the store. The men he made business with, the bands he came to meet, the fans he saw from afar. It was a beautiful thought, Seungcheol having a heart so big there was no sort of mistrust in it; but it was also a scary one, because you knew the world to be cruel. You knew the world to be undeserving of him.

“He’s gonna fall down on his ass,” Mingyu speaks next to you, a hand in the pocket of his torn up leather jacket and the other holding a cigarette. “Part of me wants you to tell him to come down but the other part wants revenge from him waking me up at 5 today.”

“You guys had a gig,” you laugh, taking a sip from your cup. It’s run cold, but the beverage leaves a sweet aftertaste on the back of your tongue, so you keep drinking. Summer is just around the corner anyways. “Not to defend him, but, you know.”

“Oh no, not you too,” Mingyu whines, throwing his head back as he speaks. He’s always reminded you of Seungcheol, and you wonder if that’s why the two seem to clash together so much. “The gig was at noon, no need to see the rise of dawn and scare my sleep away with Chan’s sleeping mask.”

“Oh, fuck you!” You hear from the back of the yard, Chan’s voice somehow louder than the playing vinyl.

His laughter, followed by Mingyu’s quiet giggle and the careless strum of a guitar, brings a smile on your lips.

Night has barely begun to fall down. The sky is tinged bubblegum pink and the clouds have started to change color, adorning the afternoon sky in an array of orange shades. It’s the moment before it starts turning down, but even when the light threatens to decrease, temperature only but rises. It’s a warm summer afternoon, with friends laughing at the top of their longs and music playing as soft background music, setting the scene even when the melody runs ignored.

It had been a while since you last had spent time with the band. They had just gone on their first big world tour and were just getting welcomed back home, and you can swear there’s something about finally knowing the world that allows their smiles to grow a little bit wider. It’s as if they’ve collected happiness at every spot, experiences turned into emotion as they let themselves completely feel every single moment. It’s as if they let their hearts be free once they’ve known how it is to let their bodies do the same.

“Why did he even get up there, anyways?” You ask, taking a sip from your punch glass. It’s sweet and cool against the growing heat.

“Seungkwan and Hoshi dared him,” Mingyu answers, smiling when Soonyoung tries to excuse his actions, yelling about some book incident involving Cheol and Jun. “Can’t believe he’s about to fall on his face in front of you for a slice of cheese pizza, though.”

“It’s a matter of honor!” Seungcheol exclaims between jolts of laughter, fingers forming a peace sign as Joshua pulls his portable camera out of his bag and points it at him. “Wait, what is this for?”

He tries to pose as he stands over a wobbly table, one of his hands holding a glass of pink colored punch and the other pointing to the camera while he tries to keep still for however long it takes Joshua to focus the lens. The guitarist isn’t the best at photographs, but his enthusiasm makes up for the lack of skill.

“Ivy and Jun are doing some groovy memory thing,” he explains, breaking into a laugh, shrugging in the direction of the couple. “Don’t worry, I’ll document every step of the process.”

Your boyfriend’s mouth opens wide at Joshua’s words, the peace sign in his hand quickly becoming a single pointed finger, eyes blazing as he moves his hand in the air.

“As soon as these fifteen minutes are up I’m getting down from here,” Seungcheol says, each word enunciated in the form of a loud whine, a pout forming on his lips as he berates his friend. “Be sure to document the slice of pizza in my mouth, Bob Dylan!”

“That would be so fucking gross,” Minghao comments from the hammock, a pair of pastel yellow sunglasses resting on the tip of his nose. “Trust me, no one would ever want to see that.”

“And Josh wishes he was Bob Dylan!” Mingyu laughs.

“I bet you wish you got the riff today right, tho,” Chan teases, another fit of laughter ensuing. Mingyu responds, and Minghao giggles.

Seungcheol turns to see his friends from where he’s standing, chest growing tight at the sight. It’s his family, after all, reunited and relaxed after what was, probably, the start to a lifelong adventure. You meet him halfway, smiling as you point the glass of punch in his direction in a silent cheer. It’s your family as much as it’s his, and there’s a sense of pride growing in the center of your stomach as you realize what an honor it is to be a part of it.

He smiles, and it doesn’t really seem like he’s all the way across the yard on top of a table that threatens to break down, because he’s truly never felt closer to you.

…

Hours later, the pizza discussion has quieted and night has finally fallen down.

Seungcheol ended up not falling, breaking literally everyone but Ivy, Jun, and your expectations, but earning Joshua quite a groovy photo (he had almost fallen down, after all). The beginning of the entire thing is still a bit of a mystery to you, but with the information you’ve been given, you’re not completely sure you’d actually want to know. After all, the entire fifteen minutes had given you a good laugh and a lifetime of worries, all at the same time.

“Here,” Seungcheol’s voice breaks you apart from your thoughts. He’s holding a yellow ceramic cup full of steaming tea, arm stretched in your direction. “Can you believe Seungkwan was trying to hide his Earl Gray from me?”

“Actually, yeah, I can,” you answer as you laugh, taking the cup from Seungcheol’s hands while he sits on the grass next to you. “You don’t even drink tea.”

“No, but he knows you do,” he says. He speaks as if he’s telling you a secret, words low, soft against the wind, entering your ears like honey as your lips curl up into a smile.

Seungcheol’s gentleness is present in every thought, in every gesture. It’s in the thinking of you to ensure your comfort, the going out of his way to make you happy, that lets you know he treats your happiness like he’s guarding a flower that’s just about to bloom. He touches it with the tips of his fingers, caring for it and nurturing it, helping your smile grow by the day. A smile directed at him.

“And yet he guards it from the both of us,” you say, raising the cup to your lips and taking a small sip. It’s sweet, a bit too sweet, perhaps, but the saccharine taste feels like velvet against your tongue, so you continue drinking. You’ve always liked sweet things, and Seungcheol has always known. “Are you not gonna have anything?”

“Seungkwan’s coffee brew and my stomach aren’t really the best of friends,” he jokes, eyes fixed on the midnight sky. “Not after last time, at least. The good thing about the tour was that all the coffee we got was made by other people.”

“Hey, he takes a lot of pride in his coffee brew!”

“That doesn’t make it any lighter!”

He doesn’t quite remember just how long it’s been since he’s taken a second to stop and breathe in like he’s doing now, the feeling of laying down without a worry having been completely alienated. It’s like he’s always on track; always moving here or there, physically or in thought, and stopping finally means letting his thoughts lay down too. He lets himself feel every inch of the warm breeze hitting his skin and rustling his hair, enjoying every second of finally watching the stars shine bright above his head.

Seungcheol is always hearing Jun talk about just how much he likes looking at the stars, and now he finally understands.

“Hey, look up there,” Seungcheol whispers, nudging your shoulder with his and pointing to the sky with his finger. You’re not sure he’s drawing your attention to any spot in particular, and, to be honest, neither is he. “It reminds me of you.”

“What exactly are you looking at?” You ask, and it’s somewhere between a laugh and a question, but he doesn’t comment on it. He’s always loved the way you talk, because, even if for a second, he feels like happiness drips from every pore. “You’re pointing at like, at least five different stars right now.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean. You’re each and every single one of them. You’re there with me, lightning my path with every step I take.”

You’re not sure, but you’d think that’s the moment the world stops spinning, because it’s just the two of you; it’s just you and Seungcheol, and your warm cup of tea, and the crazed laughter of your friends flows through the air like the background scene of a film you’ll watch over, and over, and over again. It’s like the moment and his words become etched so deep inside your heart they become a part of who you are, and of who you will always be, because there’s nothing that encompasses happiness better than the love you and Seungcheol hold for each other.

“Are you coming for Jun’s job now?” You ask, voice breaking as tears begin to prickle your eyes.

“Should we switch places?” Seungcheol follows, letting himself fall completely on his back, feeling the grass grazing against the soft linen of his purple button-up. His tone is light, relaxed. Gentle. “I’m pretty sure Jun could make for a convincing business man.”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure he would. He’s different now, isn’t he? He feels a bit more confident. A bit more secure.”

“Love does that to you, I guess. It makes you believe in yourself, because you know someone else does it too.”

And it’s just so much of a feeling growing inside your chest that you’re sure this is exactly where you’re meant to be, and Seungcheol is exactly who you’re meant to be with. You look at your surroundings, and he’s nestled so deep within your soul it’s almost like he’s everywhere. Every single place, every single sound, every single scent; he's everything.

“Can I have this dance?”

He moves, rustling in place as he extends his hand over to you.

“You can have all of them.”

It’s almost like it’s your thoughts speaking, voices intertwining, souls coming together. He takes your hand in his and you follow his lead as he stands up, pulling you to his chest with such gentleness in his touch it feels like you’re made of glass. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, but you don’t really think he needs to, because as soon as his fingers tangle with yours, it’s almost like you’re flying.

Somewhere in the garden, sitting around a campfire, Joshua and Mingyu’s guitars begin playing a song you both know, and you barely notice the moment your feet start moving. They dance on their own accord, gliding over the grass in a pace that doesn’t quite match the one set by the instruments, but neither of you fight it. He tightens the grip on your fingers and sets them over his chest, moving in closer to your frame.

You can feel him in what’s almost a hug by how close you’re standing, and it’s only when Joshua and Mingyu begin singing that you move your head up to take a look at him. The melody is sweet, raising into the sky over the crackling of a roaring fire. Dark, thick wisps of hair fall against his forehead and over the golden frame of his glasses, completely rustled by the summer breeze. You know it’s only a matter of time before he’ll try to tussle it back against his head, no doubt counterproductive, further messing up his (once) carefully gelled hairstyle.

He looks just the way he did when you last saw him before the tour, and, in a way, he looks a completely different person. There’s a sense of growth, of experience, of adventure nestling in his smile and yet, the look in his eyes expresses just as much love for you as it’s always done.

“I missed you,” he says, words soft against your skin.

He pulls you in even closer, lips coming into contact with your forehead. He presses a kiss; light, soft, gentle. And yet loving, lingering. It’s an expression of a love that doesn’t quite pressure to grow, that doesn’t quite define itself by the closeness in touch or time. It’s born on the surface, but it travels down so deep it lays untouched by whatever might pose a threat. It blooms, so wildly and fierce, and so close to your own souls it’s shaped them into what they are. It’s what you are, and you can feel it dripping down your very self whenever you’re close. It’s where you’ve found a sense of home.

“I missed you too.”

You smile, letting your forehead rest against his lips. He takes in a breath, closing his eyes. The cup of tea sits long forgotten over the grass, but steam still rises from the top. The liquid lays untouched, unmoving; but still warm.

…

The morning rises, and you’re there to see.

Seungcheol is asleep in the guest room of Seungkwan’s field house, resting calmly beneath the thick duvet you had shared the night before. His arm is still splayed over the space you once occupied, and there’s a smile resting on his lips. His hand is balled into a fist, clutching the soft, velvet sheets. Light begins to seep through the window, filtering through the curtains. A soft ray falls over his face.

In the backyard, you look up at the sky. Once dark, it’s now the most beautiful shade of gold you’ve ever seen. Air runs between the trees, and you can feel it move against your skin. The world starts waking up as you smile, and you can feel every second of it. Joshua and Mingyu sleep calmly on the couch, and Minghao brews his coffee in silence. Ivy reads a book while caressing Jun’s hair, his head resting on their lap. Seungkwan, Soonyoung, Chan and Vernon busy themselves with breakfast, the faint scent of burning toast reaching your nose.

Your family is there with you, and you feel love all around.

#caratwritersclub #kpopscape #kwritersworldnet #svt scenarios #scoups scenario #seungcheol scenario #scoups scenarios #seungchol scenarios #scoups x reader #seungchol x reader #svt scenario #svt imagine #svt imagines #svt fluff #scoups fluff #sab.writing

[sloppy-butcher]

Maybe J, K, L, W and X for Hillbilly?

anon... you know DAMN well what you are doing. playing with my heart like this. i legit screamed when i saw this. thank thank thank YOU !!! he's JUSt what the doctor ordered <3 much love anon. hope you enjoy

edit;; i wrote SO DAMN MUCH I i need to go to horny jail

Fluffy Alphabet for The Hillbilly (Max Thompson Jr.)

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Oh yes, but he would never even know he was. Max doesn't know what being jealous is nor does he know what it feels like. He would just begin to feel angry for no apparent reason, a burning familiar fury igniting in his stomach making him want to scream and get his chainsaw. Watching you interact with other people, be it killer or survivor, makes Max very sour. It’s extremely bitter when he sees you talking to others - were you happier with them? He’d get mad and his intrusive white noise would threaten to blind him with unjustified rage. 

He’d growl as he looms over you, silver eyes burning with unspeakably deep anguish. No words would fall from his mouth but you could tell from the mere way he stood there that he was upset. You tentatively reach up for him, Max flinching away from your gentle hand. Your heart breaks as you see a wave of unworthiness wash over his deformed features - he feels undeserving of your affections. Max is unsure if you even love him anymore. You belong with normal people with normal faces. How could he ever have believed that you would want to be with him? He recoils from your attempt to touch him again and you feel tears well up in your eyes. There was such profound sadness in that face and your inability to alleviate some of that pain scorned you more than any knife ever could. 

Before he could react, moving faster than lightning, you engulf him in a hug. Desperation to soothe his obvious heartache seeping through your embrace. Suddenly he breaks and gives in to your understanding and unwavering love. You must teach him how to recognize and deal with jealousy in a less self-destructive manner.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Hell no. Gonna be dead honest, he would be terrible. There would be too much teeth, his lips would not be able to conform to the correct shape and his tongue is untrained and a little too eager. But what he lacks in technique, he makes up for in passion. Once he knows that you don't mind that his kisses are wet and unusual and his confidence to seek you out grows, he wastes no time in getting quite accustomed to smooching your face. Every chance he got, Max would be planting multitudes of kisses on your person, moving up and down your body with his mouth leaving behind moist teeth-marks and red skin. His favorite place to kiss is your face - be it your cheek, the corner of your mouth, the top of your forehead, it is always your face that gets drenched in his love. 

The first kiss was an awkward one, Max had been acting suspicious all day. When the elephant in the room became too much to leave unchecked you approach him and ask him softly if something was wrong. You’d notice right away that he was shaking, his nervous hands fidgeting with the frayed edge of his shirt and his gaze never once having the confidence to meet your line of sight. After having a moment to compose himself, Max finally raises his head and meekly asks if he could give you a kiss. It's such a jarring, out-of-place question that for a few minutes after you remain stuck in stupefied silence. When you manage to give him a gentle nod, Max shuffles closer, his breathing hot and flustered across your face. In an instant, his lips are on yours, not even kissing you more just sloppily pressing themselves against you, and his eyes are closed. The kiss lasts only a heartbeat then he's pulling away, filling with embarrassment and shame. He begins to hurriedly apologize for the awful attempt at such a delicate and intimate act, shrinking away into his own self-doubt. 

He stops when you put your hand on his shoulder and sweetly plant another kiss on his forehead. “It was great, Max.” You whisper into his ear feeling all tension drain from his body at your reassuring words. “You were great.”

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He’d be an absolute mess. Why was he feeling this way? What even was this feeling? Perhaps he was sick? Maybe he was dying? He had never expected dying to feel this good, however. If he was dying then he’d gladly do so because then he’d get to stay longer with you. It was always you who set off that suffocating goodness in his chest, his knees always felt like straw when he’d steal a sneaky look at you. He would assume that feeling like this was normal for everyone when being around such a wonderful and kind person such as you so it would take a long time for him to realize that pining the way he does was not actually the norm. 

He remembers how the men did it on T.V, how they expressed love to their partners, and though nervous, Max knew what he had to do. So one night when alone he pulls you to the side gets down on one knee. He produces a strange bundle of dead flowers and other miscellaneous items that you supposed was meant to be a bouquet. He coughs and tries to force the words to come out but all he could manage was a pathetic mumble. Getting over your stupor at his forwardness, you suddenly sigh and let out a gentle giggle. He looks up at you with wide, unsure eyes - so much like a desperate child that you couldn’t help but place your hands around his crooked face. You call him a goofball and he smiles. You weren’t refusing him so, that means you love him, right? He’s elated. Ballistic! Wild! Walking on air! He stands up quickly and effortlessly sweeps you off your feet, cradling you to his chest as he spins around, all the while laughing his relief and joy.   

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Max has a great fascination and strange enjoyment in being openly flirtatious with you. He absolutely loves it when you make crude jokes, smacking his ass and calling him sexy. He blushes and buries his head in his hands, unsure about what to do with himself when showered in such open tenderness. He babbles and shrinks away and to anyone else watching it would seem that he hates being so degraded but really he absolutely loves it. Call him a good boy, a strong, handsome man and he crumbles like a sandcastle against a wave. It makes his insides burning in a most fabulous way and he feels something fuzzy buzz up in his chest. It's a borderline praise-kink thing. 

He also enjoys showering you in that same raunchy show of likeness, though do forgive him for all the lines he uses are the same ones he picked up earlier from you (he’s not very creative). He’d smack your ass then would pull away and wait for your reaction. When you’d smile, he’d wheeze and produce a sound you assumed to be his own version of laughter. 

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Yes. Most definitely. Having been deprived of physical affection all his young life, Max would behave like a starved man when you first introduce the concept of cuddling. He’d never want to stop cuddling you. His love language is touch. If you are at the point in your relationship where he is comfortable enough to allow you to touch him, Max constantly begs you for attention. 

He loves, and I mean LOVES, when you rake your fingers through his hair. It's an odd thing, coarse, wiry, and scattered across his shoulders in patches, but you manage to always find the best spots to gently stroke as he lies peacefully in your lap. Often you find that Max has fallen asleep and his ragged breathing simulates a cat purring. 

When he wakes expects to be covered in kisses and wrapped in an impossible bear-hug. He’s careful to not hurt you with his strength but sometimes he can't help the urge to bring you as close to his chest and humanely possible. He kisses the top of your head and goes wild when you start peppering his face with butterfly kisses. He giggles and can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and grin like an idiot. You just made him feel so good. 

#i lobe #I LOBE HIM OK #hes my baby #dbd imagine #dbd x reader #dbd the hillbilly #dbd the hillbilly x reader #dbd max thompson jr #dbd max thompson jr x reader

[butnobodycame627]

undertale rant plz i wanna hear

Alright so uh. This is just a rant about Flowey, let me know if you want me to rant about any other characters? This might not be the most entertaining thing to read, but uh here.

This is incredibly messy and poorly written so. Oops.

Please know that throughout this post I will be calling the first fallen human "the first fallen human" or "the human" and not "Chara". I really like that you get to pick their name, I feel like that's a really important part of the game, so I'd rather not call them by any specific name here.

I have so much to say

This will mostly be an analysis because I love this character a lot

So let’s go over the backstory. (This is gonna be like. Most of the rant. Just me analyzing certain elements of the backstory.)

Asriel lives underground in New Home with his parents, Toriel and Asgore.

One day, he finds a human and takes them home with him. The two eventually become as close as siblings.

The first fallen human comes up with a plan to free monsterkind from the underground, destroying the barrier forever.

Their plan is:

- they will commit suicide by eating buttercups and getting sick

- Asriel will absorb their soul and cross through the barrier to the surface world

- Asriel will kill six humans and absorb their souls

- Asriel will destroy the barrier with the power of seven human souls

The plan goes wrong because of the following:

- the first fallen human picks up their own lifeless body

- they want to see the golden flowers from the surface world one last time

- they set down their body into the flowers

- the humans see this and believe that Asriel killed the first fallen human

- Asriel is killed by the humans and stumbles back home

- Asgore decides to start a war against humans

When Asriel set the first fallen human down into the flowers, the sticky seeds stuck to him. He died underground, and the seeds were scattered in his dust. These flowers grew in the throne room, and the seeds stuck to anyone that went in there, spreading the golden flowers across the underground. The first flower to grow became known as the “flower from the outside world”.

Alphys, the royal scientist, was doing an experiment with what she called “determination”. She wanted to see what would happen if a being without a soul gained the will to live. This resulted in the flower from the outside world coming to life.

At monster funerals, they spread the dust of a monster onto the thing that monster loved most. Their essence then lives on in that item.

Asriel’s dust was scattered across the garden, so his essence lived on in the flowers.

When Alphys gave life to a flower, the essence of Asriel made it so that the flower had all of Asriel’s memories. However, because the flower was soulless, he could not feel emotions very deeply. He no longer felt loved or respected, and he didn’t feel connected to the people around him.

Flowey also discovered the power to reset. This meant that he could restart the timeline from the day he first woke up in the garden. He discovered this power after trying to commit suicide. His death resulted in him respawning at the garden. He presumably got this power because of the determination Alphys had given him.

Flowey, despite being emotionless, tried to be nice in many timelines. He tried helping people, and being friends with people.

After his death as Asriel, Flowey blamed himself for his and the human’s death. He felt like if he had fought back against the humans, they would still be alive and free.

This eventually led to the decision of a terrible worldview: the idea that the world is “kill or be killed”.

After he had been through many timelines, Flowey realized that he had pretty much already tried everything. He had already made every decision. Already had every conversation. He thought of trying something new.

He decided he was done making friends.

As his LOVE increased, it became easier to hurt others. And since he did not have emotions, he didn’t feel very bad about it.

It’s Frisk’s decision whether or not to forgive him. I, personally, do. I especially think that his worldview changed at the end of the game, specifically because of Asriel’s line “don’t kill and don’t be killed”. While this was Asriel and not Flowey, I like to think that it stuck with him a little bit.

So I guess now I’m gonna talk more about like. My opinions and headcanons and stuff.

So I don’t think Flowey would ever want to be called “Asriel” again. He is a very different person than he used to be. He has been through so much and he can hardly be considered the same person, even if he has Asriel’s essence and memories. He also does not want to break anyone’s heart again, as he says.

It is an interesting discussion to be had, actually. What makes someone who they are? Like, is it their personality? Their memories? Their soul?

Flowey is not a monster and does not have Asriel’s soul. But he has Asriel’s essence and memories. His personality has changed a lot, but that was mostly over time. Idk.

I really wish we had known more about Flowey and Papyrus’ friendship. I find it weird that Papyrus doesn’t actually know his name? But maybe that’s just in this timeline, it’s possible that they were closer in some other timelines.

There’s a lot of fun dialogue about the two of them, especially in phone calls with Papyrus, but I feel like we still don’t know a lot. I wish we could have heard an actual conversation between them.

I do really feel like Flowey needs like. A therapist. He’s been through so much and he needs to like. Talk about it with someone.

He has seen his friend commit suicide, he has actually died, he has attempted suicide, he has become a soulless and emotionless flower, he has watched many people die multiple times- he just. Needs therapy I think.

I do really wonder what would happen if everyone else discovered that he was the prince. As I said, I think he’d be uncomfortable being called “Asriel”, but they’d probably be more likely to forgive him. I don’t think he’d want them to know, but if everyone else did actually find out, there’s a lot of possibilities for what could happen next.

In case anyone is wondering, I don’t think the first fallen human is a bad person, either. I don’t even think they’re to blame for the genocide route, Frisk (or the player) was the one killing people. They’ve been through pretty much the same things as Flowey and I think they deserve forgiveness too.

I agree with Asriel’s point that they may not have been the nicest person, but I don’t think that makes them horrible or undeserving of forgiveness and kindness.

Can I just say that. Asriel is so well-written. The entire plot twist that Flowey was Asriel all along blew my fucking mind. I love the videotapes and the fact that Asriel is the final boss and oh my god just everything about him.

So much thought went into this story. Toby really clearly wanted the player to care about these characters. And the player is not forced to forgive Flowey, the player doesn’t even need to like Flowey, but they’re supposed to notice that he is a complex character with a deep and important story. Flowey isn’t just some evil flower guy. There’s a reason behind everything he does. It’s amazing.

#sorry if this rant. is bad. lol. #but here #this is my flowey undertale rant #undertale #flowey the flower

[curiosity-killed]

unspectacular things

Word count: 1509 on ao3

“Gege, why did you become the Guoshi of Yong An?” He’s been banished to lean against a tree while Xie Lian washes out his spare robes — a singular set, just as plain and worn as the ones he’s currently wearing. Hua Cheng itches with the urge to tell him to set it aside; he could summon up chests full of fine silk robes, soft as a breeze with none of the ground-in stains of these, or he could at least call up a ghost to clean the robes for His Highness. It would be easy as a flick of his fingers. But — but he’s trying not to push too much. And Xie Lian has seemed oddly content with the work, tying his sleeves back and humming absentminded tunes as he scrubs. “It really was an accident,” Xie Lian says with a little laugh, self-conscious. Hua Cheng waits, toying with the end of his braid. He’s not sure when he learned patience; it certainly wasn’t a skill of his when he was alive. For His Highness, though, he could wait millennia and not grow restless.

“After my first banishment,” Xie Lian says after a moment, wringing the fabric between his hands, “I — I did some awful things. I wasn’t a very good person. But there was someone — a nameless ghost — who stayed by me all that time.”

The coral bead bites into the pads of Hua Cheng’s fingers as he freezes, pressing down too hard in surprise. It takes a moment for his voice to work. When it does, it comes out distant, as if spoken by someone else entirely. “Your Highness remembers someone so insignificant?” he asks. A small furrow appears in Xie Lian’s brow, one hand reaching up to brush against the string of his bamboo hat before falling back to the robes. “He believed in me when I least deserved it,” he says simply. “I treated him poorly, and he still sacrificed himself to save me from my own mistake. That’s not insignificant.” It’s not like Hua Cheng has forgotten this. For most of the last eight hundred years, he had managed to protect his prince only twice. It wasn’t enough in either case, but he still remembers the brutal seed of satisfaction he felt as the spirits tore him apart, knowing that His Highness had returned to himself, would fight against that filthy demon instead of following its insidious lead. He’d died with a grin, that time. But he’d never expect Xie Lian to remember it, to remember any version of him. He doesn’t squirm, but he shifts uneasily against the bark, unsure of what to make of this discovery. Xie Lian’s lips thin. He draws in a breath before shaking his head slightly.

“He helped remind me of what mattered, how I wanted to help the common people. I guess…I thought that maybe if I tried to help people, I could become more like someone who deserved his faith,” he says. “As Guoshi, I could see how Yong An treated the remnants of Xianle, but I could also…do better. Or at least try.” Discomfort tremors up Hua Cheng’s bones, like he’s woken to the world tilted half a rotation to the left. It’s one thing if His Highness remembers some iteration of him, but it’s unthinkable that he should feel any sort of debt or unworthiness. The notion has his head spinning. “It would be any ghost’s honor to die for Your Highness,” he says. The look Xie Lian slides him is somewhere between a frown and a smile, like he’s trying to piece Hua Cheng together but enjoying the puzzle. He doesn’t know what to make of that, either. “I don’t want anyone to die for me,” Xie Lian says as he draws the robes up from the water. “My dream was always to protect the common people, not the other way around.” Pursing his lips, Hua Cheng lets his gaze fall away from Xie Lian’s face to rest on his hands. Sunlight limns each square knuckle, paints gold along the callouses from swordplay and hard work. He’s never understood Xie Lian’s belief in the common people. Humanity is ugly and vicious, monstrous even when it grins. He is proof of that. So much of Xie Lian’s own suffering is proof — and yet still, still, he stands there in his faded white robes and extends his hand over and over again to the undeserving masses. Humanity’s failings reveal his own divinity, and still, Xie Lian puts his faith in them. “Besides,” Xie Lian says, “he had more to live for than dying for my mistakes. He had a beloved still in the world somewhere.” Yes, Hua Cheng thinks, staring a little, and he was an idiot to think he knew what it meant to love. What did he know of it back then? Devotion, worship — the willingness to die a thousand deaths if it was in Xie Lian’s name. Wu Ming was useless and foolish, still just a child playing at maturity. “I should have helped him find them, instead,” Xie Lian says, as if to himself. “He did.”

Xie Lian startles, twisting from where he’s spreading his robe out to dry on some rocks, and Hua Cheng curses himself for his own runaway words. “It’s been so many centuries, gege,” he says, stretching his arms behind his head as casually as he can. “Surely he found them either in death or in their next life.” Surprise flickers across Xie Lian’s expression before he dips his head. A smile curls his lips, soft and warm and cracking Hua Cheng’s unbeating heart down the center. He looks up with a brighter smile, a teasing edge to the way he narrows his eyes. “San Lang ah, such a romantic,” he teases. “Who would have thought Crimson Rain Sought Flowers was so sweet?” Hua Cheng scoffs, looking away, but he can feel the smile tugging at his lips even as he does. The grass rustles as Xie Lian stands, and Hua Cheng looks up as he folds himself down to sit in a patch of sunlight nearer to him. Xie Lian smiles up at the dappled light with his eyes closed, and Hua Cheng thinks, in that instant, that he would die every day to see a single moment of such contentment in Xie Lian’s face. Even now, centuries removed from the throne, he sits with the graceful posture of a prince. His hands lay one over the other just shy of his knees, his sleeves still pulled back to reveal that silk band wound around one wrist and the other bared up to the elbow. “Ah but San Lang, you still haven’t told your beloved either,” he says, blinking his eyes open to look at Hua Cheng. The sun catches in the darks of his eyes and warms them to firelit copper. Hua Cheng exhales a soft laugh and tilts his face toward the canopy. “For me, gege, I only want for them to be safe and happy,” he says. “If I can protect them somehow, that is enough.” At his side, Xie Lian makes a small humming noise like he’s thinking. Quiet settles between them, warm like the sun. From the corner of his eye, Hua Cheng can see Xie Lian breathing in the cool breeze, his hair catching on the wind and lifting in strands from his shoulders. “Your beloved is very lucky,” Xie Lian says after a while, quietly. “When you tell them, I am certain they will be the happiest person in the world.” For a moment, he almost tells him. He almost turns to Xie Lian and says no you’re not. You’re the unluckiest person I’ve ever met. But Xie Lian is too kind. He would smile softly and apologize for not reciprocating Hua Cheng’s feelings, as if it is by some failing of his own that so unworthy a creature loves him, and he would take that hurt upon himself. Memory is a long step from love. So Hua Cheng rolls his head back toward Xie Lian and grins, easy and teasing. “Now who is the romantic, gege mm?” Startling, Xie Lian laughs like the high, clear ring of a bell. Hua Cheng allows himself a brief sense of smug satisfaction at having drawn out such a joyful noise. “Ah, San Lang,” Xie Lian laughs, breaking his own posture to lean back on his palms like he’s a carefree boy, “forgive this old man his sentimentality.” His voice is cheerful and not terribly repentant, and Hua Cheng grins as he leans back against the tree, dropping one hand to his lap. They’re close enough that he can shift his leg over to nudge Xie Lian with one knee. It still sends a little thrill through him to be permitted such gestures, doubly so when Xie Lian’s eyes crinkle up with a smile at the touch. Exhaling, Hua Cheng tilts his gaze back up toward the canopy and lets his leg stay barely pressed against Xie Lian’s. It’s more than enough.

#hualian #tgcf #tgcf fic #hua cheng #xie lian #wu ming #my writing #okay now back to mdzs

[yacoka]

THE STOLEN LAUGHTERS OF A BUDDING FLOWER

──⊱ repost from my old account

character(s) — hanamaki takahiro

pairing — hanamaki takahiro x reader

genre — angst

warning(s) — terminal illness, mentions of blood, death

word count — 1700

beta(s) — @/doughnuts-5ever @/sugasugawarau

You had always been sad smiles and sorrowful eyes, a regretful gaze that shouldn’t belong to someone as young as you were. Your shoulders were always held back proudly, though when you thought no one was looking (he was, he always was.), they slumped ever so slightly, as though they were bearing the weight of the world.

(In hindsight, you were, in a sense, bearing the weight of the world. Your world.)

Takahiro made it his mission to change that. He was going to find out the source of the sadness you carried, and weed it out. You were a beautiful flower that he wanted to save, to cultivate, and watch it grow, watch it flourish into the best version of itself.

(Instead you had only decayed, the very ecosystem that had given you life, that was meant to help you thrive, was now sucking it back out of you, draining the colors that used to be so vibrant, leaving you a pale, shriveled mess.)

He made the first attempt of getting to know you when you appeared at the cafe he worked at.

“You’re in my english class, aren’t you? I remember seeing you at the back of the class.” He had expected you to continue the conversation there, too used to people falling into the easy charisma he exuded. But all you did was give him a tired smile, and nodded before ordering your coffee and tucking yourself into the corner of the cafe without a second glance.

This only fueled his desire to break past those walls you had set up, and he pushed even as you retreated back. The fifth time you had silently rejected his attempts at being friends, he had slipped past the counter, seating himself opposite you as he set down your drink.

You had only blinked at him, exhaustion dripping from every lazy shut of your eyes. Takahiro had grinned, and began talking, nevermind that you didn’t respond to any of his chatter. He would wear you down, just you wait.

There must have been something he was doing right, despite the fact that you never reached back out to his advances of friendships, you also didn't stop coming to the cafe, nor did you tell him to leave you alone. This prompted him to begin approaching you in class, then moving to the seat next to yours, and eventually walking you home.

The first time you spoke a word to him outside the mindless coffee orders and mundane hums was when you were both working on an english essay, and you had asked if he understood the question. His head shot up so fast that he got whiplash, and that was the first time he heard you laugh.

Your laugh was beautiful- no, beautiful didn’t even begin to cover how wonderful it was. Your laugh reminded him of sunflowers leaning towards the sun, the gentle crashing of waves on the shore, the way he felt winning a volleyball match. He would do anything to hear that again, even as he shot you a fake scowl for laughing at his pain.

And he did, he got to hear it over and over and over again, as he inched past the wall of thorns you had so carefully cultivated, snuck past all your defenses and jumped headfirst into the hole that led to your heart.

Now here he was, months after the first time he talked to you, heart racing as he led you through the park, fingers loosely intertwined with yours. He hoped you didn’t notice how sweaty his palms were, nor the tense replies he had been giving to you. The worried glances you shot him weren’t missed, but all the awkwardness and tension had been worth it when he revealed the surprise he had planned, your face falling into a state of shock at the fairy lights strung up along the trees, rose petals scattered across the ground.  A large banner told you to turn around, and so you did, coming face to face with Takahiro, a shaky smile present on his face as he asked you to be his girlfriend.

(You should’ve said no then, should’ve gone home. But the selfish part of you blurted out a yes, and the way his face lit up almost made it worth it. Almost.)

Things should’ve only gotten better from there, and they did, but only for a brief period, before everything started going downhill, one event at a time. It started with you sneaking away to some place, without a word to him. The first few times he had dismissed it as you wanting some alone time, and he was more than willing to accommodate to your needs.

But it kept on happening more frequently, and the weariness in you only increased as your eyebags worsened. He tried to confront you, but was met with the same wall of silence he had come across in the beginning, and there didn’t seem to be a way around it.

You started closing back up again, retreating from him and leaving him cold as you grew quieter, your shoulders turning in upon themselves, your eyes perpetually downcast.

(He should’ve known then, should’ve seen the signs, but he was a fool in love, and love blinds us all.)

You retreated back into your old self, and Takahiro suddenly found himself locked outside those thorn walls once more, without a key or even a door to knock on. All he wanted to do was love you, so why wouldn’t you let him?

He hated the miserable look on your face, and the paleness that only seemed to worsen as the weather slipped into the colder seasons. Every cough that passed your lips sent a dagger into his heart, and he hoped that you’ve been taking the medicine he’s been slipping into your bag.

(You can’t, as much as you want to, you can’t.)

Takahiro doesn’t understand what he did wrong, what he had done to make you leave him like this, without a word, without a fight. Hell, he would have preferred screaming matches over the suffocating silence that sits between you two now.

It isn’t until you pass out in class that he finally understands. As he cradles your head upon his lap, trembling hands trying to staunch the blood that doesn’t seem to stop flowing from your nose, he finally realizes just why you had pushed him away. His suspicions are only confirmed when he arrives at the hospital with you, and the sinking in his stomach drags him to his knees, his head hurting and his heart aching.

At long last, he had found the reason for your sad smiles and sorrowful eyes, and it isn’t something that he can fix or make go away, Not when it was a terminal disease that ate away at your life, stealing time from a gentle soul who had experienced only a fraction of what life had to offer.

How could life be so cruel? You had done nothing but love and be kind, offering soft smiles and reassuring words to the undeserving world, even when all it had done was to throw you obstacle after obstacle, cruelty after cruelty. Takahiro couldn’t even begin to imagine a world without you, a world without your bright laughter, a life without your love.

When you awoke, drugged up on medicines flowing through the IV drip, he had begun crying once more, and through the tears, he could vaguely see your hand reaching out to his weakly. He grabbed it, and the coldness of it had him breaking even more.

“Why?” He choked out, clenching his burning eyes shut. “Why didn’t you just tell me?’

“How do I tell the person I’m in love with, the person that I want to marry, that I can’t marry him because I’m dying?” You whispered, your voice cracking.

“I-I don’t-” For once, Takahiro has nothing to say, and it is you who pushes through the dreaded conversation.

“I’m sorry for being selfish, I shouldn’t have said yes then. You should leave, go be with someone better. Someone who you can love with no regrets, someone who can grow old with you.” You squeeze his hand tightly, before loosening your grip, making to let go of him.

But he refuses to let go, clinging onto you desperately. It is with pure, earnest love that he says it, “I would take my year with you, over a lifetime with anybody else. If a few months is all we have left, then let me have them. Let me have every single second you have left, let me love you until then.”

(There is no way you could’ve said no, not when you knew he wasn’t going to give up. Not when your heart ached for him too. This was the last time, you promised yourself. The last selfish choice you will ever make.)

Takahiro did love you, he loved you so fiercely it was easy to pretend that the clock wasn’t ticking, that your time wasn’t running out. And he loved you all through the days you couldn’t even walk, when you were nothing more than a pale, sickly mess in a hospital bed, multiple machines hooked up to your frail body.

(“I’m sorry,” you whispered to his sleeping body on the makeshift cot the nurses had brought in. “I’m sorry we didn’t have more time.”)

You passed away that night, and Takahiro awoke to a pitying look from a nurse. He didn’t hear the words she spoke, his eyes trained upon your still body. You had been fine the previous night, still laughing at his stupid jokes, still smiling at him with that shine in your eyes. And now you were gone, never to smile at him ever again, or to hold his hand, or to throw your stationery at him whenever he said something ridiculous.

It is with shaking hands that he brings his phone up to his ear, a recording playing. Your laughter fills his ears once more, and he breaks, he shatters, he cries as he mourns you.

You were gone, and he would never get to experience your love again.

#hanamaki takahiro #hanamaki x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #makki x reader

[stardew-imagines-me]

Hi!!!! Uhm, can I ask a short story, where the farmer (in your Highschool AU) was looked down on when they first arrived at the school, but soon climbed up the ranks with their academic ability and skills in other fields, which impressed the students and caught the attention of the Top 12?

I, uh... I got carried away ;”-) I just love the high school au so much

The first days of school were hell. They were always hell regardless if you were returning or transferring, but to transfer in the middle of the year? That's basically a death wish. You knew that, but what other choice did you really have? You had no home back in the city, your mother made that clear through tear filled apologizes and painfully tight hugs goodbye. You didn't have a home in Stardew Valley, this was just some place your grandfather gave to you in case you ran into trouble - it makes you suspicious sometimes about how good he prepared everything.

You can't blame either one of them though, it just had to be this way until it was safe enough to go back. But when that would be? You weren't quite sure, mom made it clear to not wait up though. Your new years would start here.

Start here... in the personal bathrooms once again. Another lunch spent hiding away from people who would only whisper to each other about your sudden appearance, your clothes, your family. The hot topic of the school for being the city kid outsider.

The rude remarks about your intelligence or  simple existence didn't bother you. Neither did the rough pushing in the halls, or the pitiful looks you'd receive. Even having no friends made a difference. You stayed quiet and calm despite the undeserved harassment, always focusing on your school work or eating your food with your head down. What would be the point in showing a reaction when you didn't feel anything?

There was only 5 things you liked since moving to Stardew Valley. The first was shopping; you could spend your whole day in the florists shop looking at all the different types of home grown flowers, or picking out new vegetable seeds to grow inside during the winter. You visited so often you were practically best friend's with the owner; an elderly man without a wife or kids. He soon became someone to vent to when a letter from your mom arrived.

The second would be the silence of the semi medium town. You could walk for hours in the woods and find that it was nearly silent always. Sometimes living on the outskirts of town was beneficial for your mental health.

The third had to have been sleeping. Now with no running children in the apartment above you, or your mom passed out on the only bed available, you were able to sleep for as long as you wanted without disturbance. That's practically your whole weekend, just sleeping the hours away until your body refused anymore.

The fourth, surprisingly, was the students. Not the normal ones, or the ones who pushed your head into the lockers whenever they felt like it, the ones who you had to observe from far away with everyone else because they were practically the royalty of your school.

Every single one of them had a different personality, had some sort of contribution to either a large organization, or came with talent unmatched by anyone. They were all so interesting, but one thing was you had never seen them all together.

You'd think, being some of the most exceptional students, they'd be together all the time - that wasn't the case though. You'd be lucky if you even saw three of them hanging out.

They were all so busy, so the possibility of them sparing a glance at someone the likes of you was.. small.

The last thing was the garden at school. That was something you would always admit you were a little too fond of.

Gardening was the only thing you had back in the city; your cups of bamboos and pots of orchids, the baby blooming orange tree that had finally grown it's first blossom since being potted or the mint you'd talk to whenever your mother was too busy at work.. she was always busy. To have the blank, nearly dead slate of the school garden was a gift from the cruel gods who put you in this situation to begin with.

Nevertheless, you signed up for the gardening club after your 2nd month at Stardew Dew High.

You understood when the three other gardening students were distraught by the death of their beautiful green sanctuary, you would've been too. You took it upon yourself to arrive at school extra early in order to turn the compost beds, pluck the monstrous amount of weeds from the dry soil and gather what seed was left in storage.

Late afternoons when you'd spend time talking to the acting president, Sei, she would share stories about the past gardening president and how he made Star Dew high into what attracted so much attention in the first place; private school gardeners were put to shame with his natural green thumb.

"It's kind of crazy, to think that we just started out in classroom with a few tiny pots of tulips. Without Boari, we wouldn't be here now," She smiled painfully towards the dug up flowerbeds, tapping her nails against the dirt path and resting against the greenhouse.

"Well, without the sponsorship from a few of the top 12, we wouldn't have any of this," she motioned to the large expansion of land the gardening club owned, "Bless Boari's soul for being so caring, he's the only person I've seen the top 12 so fascinated with,"

You nodded, arms propped up on your knees as you glanced at Sei every now and then.

"Amy and Kai? Bless those girls souls for trying so hard to keep everything running after Boari left. We all tried out best, but in the end it wasn't enough,"

That small conversation shouldn't have meant so much, but Sei had looked so sad, Kai and Amy always worked so hard. You knew they sacrificed a lot for this club, and even despite your sad reputation in the school, they never once put you down for just existing. They always offered their table when it was open, or encouraged you during classes you had with them - the least you could do was try to bring back whatever they had before.

And that's what you did.

Since that day, you spent your lunch time in the library studying for tests that were months away and finishing packets of homework that counted for the rest of the year. You spent every morning and afternoon planting, growing, watering, turning. You trimmed the mazes', you fixed the broken shelves in the shed and even took money from you own pocket to decorate the greenhouse.

You saw less of your garden mates, you hadn't been pushed in a good few weeks and your teachers praised you every chance they could when you turned in finished packet after packet. You had secluded yourself with good reason, and the lack of attention, negative or not, wasn't unwelcomed.

But there was one thing that left you scratching your head; the amount of letters, small gifts, sticky notes and even a pack of strawberry seeds had all fallen from your locker when you opened it one morning. To be fair though, you never used the damn thing, the lock was sticky.

As you watched the garden bloom almost impossibly fast, you noticed that no one touched you anymore, in fact, everyone offered bright smiles and shameful expressions. Odd.

-

"I want you to be the gardening president," Sei held out the green leaf hairpin towards you, proud grin stretching across her face while Amy and Kai stood to the side, clapping their hands and shouting excitedly.

"What..? Why?" Club hairpins were sacred, those were the absolute deciding factor on your reputation as a student. To be the president of an important club was to join the class royalty in some way.

But to you, it was just a leaf hairpin.

"You're like the plant whisperer! What do you mean why? You've literally regrown the garden single handedly, thrown yourself into being one of the top academic students in our school, and somehow stayed modest the whole time,"

"You mean oblivious, Sei," Kai teased, snickering behind her hand while Amy smacked her arm.

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to impose anything," Sei shook her head so hard you were scared she would knock herself unconscious.

"Without you, our dream wouldn't have stayed. Please, take the pin before my arms break off,"

-

And with the official announcement of the garden president change, and the garden fairy's arrival, you were classified as one of the elite.

Now students asked to sit with you at lunch, or begged to be in project groups with you - you even found yourself cornered by a few students who admitted they had always loved you and want to take you out on the weekend. That was a little extreme.

You couldn't care any less about the title though, sticking with eating lunch in the green house or staying silent during class. You had to be one of the most antisocial elites so far, and with Penny or Sebastian? That's kinda saying a lot.

"Hey, you're the garden fairy, right?" You recognized that voice anywhere, if it wasn't the one and only Alexander, football prodigy.

"Huh, you are cute aren't you? Should've found you sooner," Haley too?

You turned around, empty pot clutched in gloved hands and dirt smudged across your cheeks. Dear lord, it wasn't just Alex and Haley.

"I've seen you around!" Sam said loudly, his smile really was brighter than the sun. You looked to his side where Abigail hushed him and Sebastian waved, arms crossed over his chest.Elliott pushed the glasses that were drooping down his nose up as you caught your glance, and Leah smiled next to him.

"Did we catch you at a bad time?" Penny asked quietly, tucked behind a blue haired Emily, and a frantic Harvey. You were about to shake your head when Shane injected.

"Of course we did," Maru patted his shoulder, and gestured to you again, "You shouldn't talk for other people, Shane,"

Every single one of the 12 stood in front of you, watching as you stared at them, wide eyed and clutching harder onto your pot. Out of every moment they could've found you, it had to have been when dirt was smudged across your face and your gloves soaked and muddy.

"Uhm.." You started, everyone lighting up as you finally found your voice. For some reason, all the attention shook you, and all you wanted to do was retreat to the green house and contemplate your life.

"You probably don't know why we're here, sorry," Leah said, ducking her head quickly in a tiny bow.

"We came here to see who the person was that brought back the garden," Harvey seemed all too enchanted by the very mention of the garden.

"Yes, we also wanted to see who it was that our peers were regarding as the 13th addition," Elliott's voice was comforting in the overwhelming aura each one of them produced. You nodded again, slowly and trailed Haley's hands as they reached out to touch your hair.

Emily quickly snatched her sisters hand away, giving a frowning Haley to Alex, "Manners, Haley,"

They stood there, expecting for you to say something, anything at all, but all you did was stare at them. That was until your brain completely shut down.

"Uhm.. yeah," And with that, you shuffled quickly out of the empty classroom and all but bolted down the corridor into one of the main halls and down the stairs to the gardens.

You knew as you threw off your gloves, set down the pot and grabbed your backpack in a rush, your life wouldn't be the same from then on. Still, you would go home and spend one last night alone until you walked back into school the next day a completely different person.

#sdv #sdv au #sdv highschool au #sdv imagines #sdv alex #sdv elliot #sdv elliott #sdv oc #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #sdv sam #sdv harvey #sdv haley #sdv maru #sdv emily #sdv abigail #sdv penny #sdv leah

[littlestarofthewest]

Title: Meeting Miss Morgan | Word Count: 3289 | Rating (for entire fic): 18+!!!

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x female OC | Chapter: 04 of 08 |  Link to Masterlist

Arthur knows what he's doing is stupid. In fact, he is stupid. He got up even earlier than usual, taking care of the firewood. Julie prepares it most of the time, but when she briefly mentioned in conversation that she doesn't particularly like doing it, Arthur immediately had the urge to do it for her.

He likes to think that he's just trying to help out around the farm, but after the pencils and the whole trouble Arthur went through with Jasper, he can't pretend that what he's doing has nothing to do with Julie. Somehow he always ends up helping her in particular.

Ever since she kissed him on the cheek, she wanders around in his mind when he's not busy thinking about something else. Having the chance to hold her in his arms didn't make it any easier. In fact, he feels like he's years younger, even more of an idiot, and stupid enough to think that she might like him as more than a friend, if at all. 

Julie's a nice person. Doing sweet things comes naturally to her, and has nothing to do with Arthur, but he still can't stop hoping. He's chopping wood and buys a new shirt like a changed man, as if he wasn't a killer, wanted outlaw, and complete failure.

Arthur finishes the last logs with a sigh, knowing full well that his day won't get any better. With some tools, he heads out to one end of Mr. Henderson's property, beginning the work that will probably take him the whole week, building a new fence.

On the one hand, it's a good thing that he can stay away from the stables for a while. That way, he at least can't embarrass himself in front of Julie. On the other hand, he has a lot of time to think. 

For the last two days, he's been remembering his ride with Julie. They didn't talk much, but Julie kept smiling at Arthur, so abundantly happy that she was finally able to ride Jasper. It was a joy to watch her race over open fields, her blonde hair flying in the wind. She seemed to glow in a golden shine under the warm summer sun, so free and unburdened that watching her made Arthur's heart ache. 

Fuelled with those memories, Arthur keeps working on the fence, trying to neither think back to his old life nor imagine the future. All that matters is hitching up posts, one after the other until the day is gone.

He makes good progress until he hears a rider approach. Arthur's heart drops when Julie rides up to him on Jasper. "Hello, Arthur."

Arthur tips his hat, pulling it deeper into his face. "Jules."

She hops off the horse and strides over to him with a bundle in her hand, her eyes wandering over the already finished fence. "Let me guess, you didn't take any breaks."

Arthur opens his mouth, but Julie shakes her head and takes his hammer away before throwing it into the grass. Then she grabs his hand and pulls him to the nearby woods, making him sit down on a fallen tree in the shadow of a few branches.

"I had time to make something to eat for you since the firewood was already done," Julie says, raising a single brow at Arthur while unpacking the bundle in her hand.

"Was it?" Arthur says, looking out over the farmland in front of them. 

Julie pushes a bowl with stew into his hand and tops it off with a thick slice of bread. "It's cold but better than nothing."

"Thank you," Arthur says, although he's not sure how he's supposed to eat with butterflies in his stomach. 

Julie is sitting way too close, her leg brushing against his. Arthur would move, but then he'd fall off the tree. Instead, he shovels a spoonful of stew into his mouth. That should keep Julie from asking him any questions. 

"You know that you don't have to do everything, right?" she asks.

Arthur chews, but Julie keeps looking at him, waiting for an answer. He clears his throat, trying to come up with an excuse. "I don't mind the firewood. It's quiet work, relaxing. Just like building a fence."

"You must have had quite the excitement before when you actually like doing these boring things."

"Enough for a lifetime," Arthur says, knowing that he's avoiding her unspoken question. It's not fair to keep it a secret from Julie who he truly is, but the thought of her thinking less of him twists Arthur's stomach into knots.

He forces down more stew, and maybe Julie takes the hint or just wants for him to eat, but she stays quiet, looking up into the trees. They sit there until Arthur is done eating, and Julie fetches a bottle of water for him as well, scolding him for not bringing one along in the first place. 

Arthur thanks her again, trying to put the bottle into his bag to bring it along. He curses when one side of the bag tears, and his journal drops to the ground. It falls open, and Arthur hurries to pick it up, but Julie is quicker than him. Her eyes grow big as she looks at the page, and Arthur's heart stops, thinking about the things he recently wrote about her.

"I thought you only wrote in this," Julie says, "I didn't know you were drawing, too."

"It's just silly little doodles," Arthur says, hoping that Julie won't turn the page.

"That's the whole farm from the viewpoint up on that ridge," Julie says with wonder in her voice. She moves a few steps before turning around, holding the journal up against the horizon. "Arthur, that's incredible. Where did you learn to draw like this?"

"My pa," Arthur begins, realizing too late that he was thinking about Hosea and horrible guilt consumes him. 

"Your father was an artist?"

"No, what I meant was that he gave me my first journal when I was 15," Arthur says, the memory weighing heavy on him. "I've been trying to draw whatever I saw since then."

"Well, then he's a good father. You're really talented," Julie says. She closes the journal with such care as if it was a precious relic before handing it over. "I've meant to draw a few places around here, but somehow I never get around to it."

"How come?" Arthur asks, wishing he could see some of Julie's drawings.

"Mrs. Henderson would say I work too much," Julie sighs, "and Mr. Henderson is always concerned about me. A young woman alone on the road? Better not. There's a beautiful pond up in those woods, but there's a road going past with many travelers and stagecoaches, so there are sometimes bandits in the woods as well. Mr. Henderson would kill me if I went there on my own."

"He's not wrong," Arthur says. He met enough outlaws in his time who went far beyond thieving and killing. Some of them were so bad, you wished they would have killed their victims. "There are some bad people out there."

Julie studies Arthur for a moment as if to ask if he's one of them, but then she walks over to Jasper. "I better let you work now, or Mr. Henderson will have my head for distracting you."

"Thank you for the food," Arthur says again. After all, he can't tell Julie that she's already distracting him anyway.

"Somebody has to take care of you," Julie says with a smile before riding off, leaving Arthur with a warm feeling in his chest.

------

The next morning, Arthur walks out of his cabin, finding a fresh water bottle and a tightly wrapped package in front of his door. He doesn't have to look inside to know what it is. Julie must have gotten up even earlier than usual to prepare some food for him. Arthur picks it up, finding a little note tucked into one of the folds. It says, "Take some breaks."

Smiling, Arthur puts the package in his saddlebag and rides out to continue his work on the fence. This time, he doesn't mind those thoughts of Julie dance around in his head. He can't change her as much as he can't change himself, so he might as well enjoy her kindness, no matter how undeserved it might be.

When noon comes around, Arthur takes Julie's advice to have a break. He unpacks the food package, finding cold roast, bread, and berries. Sitting in the shadow of a huge tree, Arthur savors his meal. Somehow, it tastes so much better than anything he's ever eaten before. He's about to pack up when he finds a piece of paper sticking out from under his plate.

Arthur pulls it out, his eyes growing wide. It's a drawing of him on the Mustang riding up to the stables. Despite sketching other people all the time, Arthur has never seen a picture of himself. It's like looking into the mirror, and he's impressed how well Julie can draw. 

Wondering why Julie picked this specific scene, Arthur's stomach does a little summersault when he remembers what happened right afterward. Closing his eyes, Arthur can imagine how Julie's touch felt on his skin, but then he quickly gets up. He can't risk to drift off into these kinds of phantasies. 

Instead, Arthur carefully folds up the drawing and puts it in his breast pocket before riding out to town. Mr. Henderson asked him to run some errands, and he might be able to find a little thank you gift for Julie. At least that's what Arthur thought.

He's done with Mr. Henderson's business in no time, but even after an hour, Arthur can't find anything to give to Julie. He can't exactly gift her a sack of rice, but at the same time, anything more personal could give her the wrong - or worse - the right idea about Arthur's growing feelings for her. In the end, he decides that a heartfelt thank you has to do.

On his way back, Arthur has another idea, though. He's on the road Julie talked about the day before, so Arthur steers his horse into the trees to find the pond. It takes him a little going back and forth, but he knows what Julie has been talking about once he sees it.

It's a beautiful place with high trees and lots of flowers that surround the small body of water. Birds are singing, and when Arthur comes closer, a few deer quickly jump away and disappear. Letting his horse roam free, Arthur walks around the pond two times to find the right spot before settling down with his journal.

Usually, Arthur's quick with his drawings. He always had other things to do or was with someone who didn't appreciate him taking forever to sketch an abandoned church or oddly shaped tree. Today, Arthur takes his time. He tries to capture how the sun sparkles on the water, and painstakingly draws all the single petals on most of the flowers. He only rushes to finish the picture when the sun begins to set.

Looking at his finished work in the dim light, Arthur remembers Julie's words about him being talented, and for the first time in a long while, he feels proud about something that he did. Folding the paper as carefully as possible, he puts it to Julie's drawing in his pocket and hurries back to the farm so he won't miss dinner.

At the house, Julie greets him with a lovely smile, and Arthur's heart skips a beat once again. Thinking about giving her the drawing later makes him so nervous he can barely follow the conversation. When they're done eating, Julie heads outside to play her guitar, and Mr. Henderson holds Arthur back to talk about work.

Arthur nods along until Mr. Henderson finally gives him free. Outside, Arthur finds Julie sitting on the steps that lead up to the door. Her guitar is lying next to her, but she's not playing.

"No music tonight?" Arthur asks.

"I felt like watching the stars," Julie says before turning to Arthur and patting the floor next to her. "Come sit with me."

Arthur swallows a lump in his throat, feeling like he might pass out. He can't remember the last time he's been so nervous. For a moment, he thinks about making up an excuse to go, but his feet act on their own, carrying him all too willingly over to Julie. He sits down next to her, leaving generous space between them, but Julie scoots closer, pointing into the sky.

"I love that one," she says, and Arthur follows the line of her outstretched arm to a big star that shines particularly bright.

"It's pretty," Arthur says, looking at Julie. She turns her head, and he tries desperately to come up with something else to say. "Thank you for the food. And the drawing. You're way more talented than I am."

Julie's cheeks gain a little color, and she waves her hand. "Like you said, just silly little drabbles."

Arthur thinks about the picture in his breast pocket, and it takes all his courage to take it out and hand it to Julie. "I thought about what you said when I was heading back from town. You probably could have done a better job, though."

Julie unfolds the paper and gasps before staring at Arthur. "You drew the pond?"

"I gave it a shot," Arthur says, rubbing his neck. Now that Julie is looking at it, he begins to see mistakes he didn't notice before, and he feels he should have taken more time to get the picture right.

"It's beautiful," Julie says, her eyes wandering over the page. "The details in the flowers. The water. This must have taken you forever."

Arthur shrugs. "Maybe when I'm done with the fence, we can ride up there together, and you can draw it yourself. Or any of the other places you wanted to draw."

Julie looks back up at Arthur, a shine in her eyes that makes his skin tickle. "You would do that?"

Arthur's not quite sure how they ended up so close to each other, and he knows he should just say yes, or maybe nod, but he's always been an idiot. "For you," he says, his voice almost giving out on him.

He moves even closer to Julie, knowing full well that he shouldn't. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but then she leans in, and Arthur closes the distance between them, his lips brushing against Julie's. Arthur's heart feels like it might jump out of his chest any second, and he wants nothing more than to hold Julie close, but then the door screeches behind them.

They move apart as if hit by lightning, and only seconds later, Mrs. Henderson comes out of the house. "Aren't you going to play, Julie? I really feel like-"

She stops herself when her eyes fall on the paper in Julie's hand. "Oh, my dear, that's lovely. When did you draw that?"

Julie throws a quick glance over to Arthur before handing the drawing to Mrs. Henderson. "I didn't. Arthur drew it today."

Mrs. Henderson's mouth falls open, and she looks back and forth between Arthur and the drawing. "Well, look at you, Mr. Morgan. Aren't you full of surprises? Who knows what else we might find the longer you stay with us."

She can't know it, but her words cut deep, and Arthur gets to his feet. "I think I better go to sleep. I want to get an early start on that fence."

"You two make quite the couple," Mrs. Henderson sighs, running a hand over Julie's hair. "The name, the drawing, and nothing but work in your heads. The two of you really need to have some fun for a change."

Julie lets out a muffled noise, and Arthur wishes he could just melt into the ground. Instead, he taps his hat. "Goodnight."

He turns around, walking away so quickly that he doesn't know if the two women respond. Arthur's whole body seems to fill up with rage, and he wishes he could give himself a good beating. 

When he left the gang, Arthur swore that he's done with making stupid mistakes, yet here he is, well on his way to hurt a nice, young woman, and maybe ruining more lives. The surprises he's filled with are danger, sorrow, and regret. Neither Julie nor the Henderson's deserve any of that. If he wants to stay, he has to get himself under control.

--------

Pretending to be busy with the fence, Arthur manages to stay away from Julie for two days, and then he jumps at the chance when Mr. Henderson asks him to bring one of the horses he sold to its buyer. That way, he gets to stay away for three more days, trying to sort out his feelings. 

At first, he goes with booze but concludes that that's just one more mistake, considering how he behaves when drunk. The trouble is that Arthur can't sleep when he's sober. He's tossing and turning, only drifting off for a few minutes before waking up in a cold sweat, guilt consuming him over and over again.

By the time Arthur gets back to the farm, he's so tired he can barely walk straight and doesn't remember the last time he ate. Still, he brings his horse into the stable, doing his best to take care of it. It's already dark, and Arthur hoped he could sneak into his cabin without anybody noticing. Of course, he has no such luck.

"Arthur?" Julie asks behind him, and Arthur does his best to stand up straight when he turns around to her.

"Yes, it's me. I just got back."

Julie takes a step closer, worry in her eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Just a little tired," Arthur says with a forced smile. "It's been a long ride."

He's not sure if he actually sways at those words, but it sure feels that way. Julie comes even closer, studying his face. "A little tired? You're dead on your feet. What's wrong?"

Arthur knows that he won't get out of this so quickly, so he shrugs. "Haven't slept well for the last few days. I'll be fine."

He waits for Julie to scold him, but she just takes his hand and leads him into the next empty stall. It's filled with fresh hay, and Julie forces him to sit down. "I'll be right back," she says, her voice low.

Arthur wishes he could go, but he's not sure he could get up on his feet before Julie's back. Instead, he shrugs out of his jacket and puts it behind his head like a makeshift pillow. He's staring at the wall on the other side when Julie appears in front of him. She puts a blanket over him and then sits down with her guitar on her legs.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asks, but Julie only shakes her head.

"Just close your eyes."

She starts playing, and Arthur does as she says. He's nervous with her closeby, and he wants to apologize, but he's not sure how to even get the words out. "I'm sorry, Jules," he finally manages to say.

"Sleep, Arthur," Julie says, her voice warm and comfortable like the blanket over him. "You'll be fine."

It takes a while until Arthur can focus on the music, but then a nice heavy feeling settles in his stomach, the notes carrying him over into a better world, a world where he doesn't have to apologize for liking someone.

#my writing

[deathflares]

» ffxivwrite day #06 — unspoken

g'raha centric, 1.3k words, G.

[ao3 mirror]

G’raha writes things he cannot say.

(a letter, neatly folded, placed before a headstone)

Father,

Today my work saw me admitted to the Students of Baldesion.

You used to tell me you hoped I wouldn’t let this eye of mine dictate how I would choose to live my life, so I believe that first and foremost, an apology is in order.

I am sorry I didn’t live up to your hopes. I am not, however, sorry for what I have chosen to do.

I saw the way it weighted at you, the feeling of having something you must do but never knowing what it was. I didn’t understand, as a child, how crushing it must be; but with every year that passes, the feeling grows on me as well. I dream, sometimes, about things I know are important, things that I must remember. Yet when I wake, the memories are gone, leaving only a gaping hollow in my chest that I never seem to be able to fill.

But that emptiness, that doubt—it ends with me. That I swear to you.

I hope that, on the day we meet again, you will be able to say you are proud of me.

Love, Raha

    (a piece of wrinkled parchment, broken down by the waters of lake silvertear)

My friend,

Forgive me the sentimentality of this letter. There has been a somewhat dire feeling overcoming me for a while now, and I fear this might be my last chance to convey my thoughts to you, should the worst happen once we enter the World of Darkness tomorrow.

I believe first and foremost, I owe you an apology. Not just for our less than ideal first meeting, but for my entire demeanor through the course of this expedition. Though it beggars belief, I am not oblivious to my own foolishness, as you are wont to call it, and I know my actions have, at times, been less than ideal.

All that I have done, however, I have done with the admittedly embarrassing intention to impress you. Pray do not hold this against me—before someone like you, one is inevitably inspired to better themselves, that they might one day be but a dim glow next to your blinding light.

That, perhaps, is the point I intended to convey in this missive. That to me you have been the greatest inspiration, the driving force that makes me want to be and do better—the star by which I hope to chart my course. Whatever I do tomorrow, know that I will do so with the hope that, someday, my own star will rise to meet yours, even though it will undoubtedly never shine as brilliantly.

On that day, I pray you will still find within you the kindness to grant me a place by your side.

Hopefully still your friend, by the time this reaches you, G’raha Tia

    (a torn page of a journal, lost to time)

I visited your grave today.

It’s beautiful, the view from it—though little remains of what once was Ishgard. It has been many long years, but even the most ruthless among us don’t dare disturb your place of rest. For that, I am thankful.

I left you a flower. They’re hard to come by, these days. I hope you like it.

The ones who roused me have come up with quite the ingenious plan, you see. They’re a noble bunch, the lot of them—so fearless and hopeful, even in the face of unrelenting despair. I cannot measure up to them, not in courage nor in selflessness, but I have been entrusted with their wishes nonetheless, that I may one day deliver them to you.

Hopefully, then, I’ll get the chance to say I am sorry.

    (crumpled parchment, littered in a corner of the umbilicus)

Mother,

I believe you would faint if I were to tell you in person that you now have a great-granddaughter, but it is true nonetheless. Granted, you always wanted grandchildren, but certainly you didn’t expect me to skip a step when it came to that.

That said, I believe I owe you an apology—truly, now I understand the suffering I brought upon you when I was a boy myself. I believe you should be thankful, however, that unlike Lyna, I didn’t have access to an ancient tower of gigantic proportions where I could hide myself from you for hours on end.

If only you could be here, to guide me through my clumsiness like always. Lyna would love you; as you would love her, I’m certain. And as I love you.

—I miss you, mother. Desperately and hopelessly so.

Your son, (ILLEGIBLE)

    (an envelope safely stored in a drawer, never delivered)

My friend,

If you are reading this, then, hopefully, my plan has succeeded, and my duty come to an end.

Doubtlessly you are mourning, in spite of the fact I am not worth your grief; because your kindness truly knows no bounds, and is one of the greatest reasons I would happily go through all that I have a thousand times over, as long as it meant keeping you safe and alive.

But first and foremost—I am sorry. It is too late and too little, but it is true nonetheless. Pray know that all that I said and all that I did was with the utmost conviction that there was no alternative, for I would never willingly deceive or hurt you. I am painfully aware that you have suffered far too much of both through your life.

But I digress. Pray allow me to speak plain.

Though I have told you far too many lies during our brief time together, my affections are undoubtedly true, and shall always remain so. Even if I am no longer able to stand by your side—nor do I have the right to—know that, wherever I may be, I shall watch over you, always.

I will not ask for your forgiveness. I pray only that, from now on, you may greet each coming dawn with a smile.

Yours, The Crystal Exarch

      (a letter, safely sealed. awaiting delivery.)

My dearest Lyna,

I pray this missive finds you in good health and high spirits.

It has only been a few days since I woke in this new old body, but you have not left my thoughts for a second since then—nor will you ever.

Lyna—there are no words to express how deep my sorrow and regret at not being able to tell you these words in person runs. Yet tell them I must, if you would still be willing to listen to the ramblings of an old man who is utterly undeserving of your love.

My dear, sweet Lyna. My love for you is boundless—as is my gratitude, for all that you’ve done and will do, for myself and the good people of the Crystarium. Having you in my life is a privilege I do not deserve, but that I am eternally grateful you chose to grant me nonetheless. I am, now and ever, incredibly proud of you, and though I can no longer be by your side, I shall always pray for your safety and happiness.

I am aware I have kept you in the dark about my past for far too long, and for that I am, yet again, deeply sorry. But know that, should you want to learn about it at last, you need only say the word. There shall be no more secrets between us, should that be your wish. I have asked far too much of you across the years—’tis now your turn to ask of me whatever you heart desires, and I shall answer most gladly.

The bounds of space and time may keep us apart for now, but you shall always be my dearest granddaughter.

With my deepest love and wishes for your happiness, The man once known as the Crystal Exarch

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #final fantasy 14 #g'raha tia #ffxivwrite2020 #my writing

[isolophilicmoonchild]

~Home~

You could almost see the molecules of the salty water travel through the thin sheet of paper making the ink on the page an illegible blob of various designs of blue. You prayed that no one would walk into the deserted corner of the library that you picked to study undisturbed but instead turned into a haven to let all your bottled up emotions flow. You wiped your face angrily not wanting to cry anymore because of what you’ve been told your entire life- ‘Crying is weak’. You hated being vulnerable and laying yourself bare; raw emotions being a spectacle to others. You knew a lot of it were the demons in your head speaking and not the real you but that’s because you were trained to think that vulnerability and weakness was bad your entire life. You repeat the words ‘You’re okay’ over and over again hoping that some kind of truth attaches itself to those empty words. Despite all of this, you couldn’t help yourself. You imagined your defeated, tired form from a third-person perspective and felt like a failure for not being able to keep the facade on for longer. You were raged at your demons for opening the pandora box of hatred and pity you felt for yourself. As you sat there ruminating and letting the metaphorical keys unlock the drawers to every terrible emotion you’ve felt for yourself, you stare blankly at the computer screen focusing on the spaces between the words zoning in and out until all of your thoughts gathered above you like a dark cloud. You felt everything and nothing all at once and couldn’t speak or move let alone think. A few hours, the zoning in and out still continued until he came by. The first thing you did was hug him tight wordlessly like somehow you could leech off of his happiness. You pull back after what felt like forever and looked into his eyes and surprisingly saw it filled with an immense amount of love. You convinced yourself that it wasn’t for you though. You felt undeserving of that kind of affection from anyone. Funnily enough, seconds after seeing him, you felt a few imaginary pieces of your shattered heart arranging itself. You finally let yourself talk wondering if he noticed the raspiness of your voice from not speaking for a while. You could feel yourself not completely wanting to rip your hair out in frustration from being a sad excuse of a person by seeing him look at you with adoration and hints of worry from the train of texts sent in the midst of naming everything wrong with you by making a mental checklist. After a while of talking, hands intertwined, a habit you picked up along the way, you found yourself somehow enclosed in another long hug. You could feel his hands on your back rubbing soothing circles whispering repeatedly how it’s gonna be alright and you felt your vision getting blurry as you stained his gray hoodie with fresh tears. You couldn’t hold back and in some ways, you didn’t want to. You hide your face on the crook of his neck and allowed yourself to feel it all having this ridiculous idea in the back of your mind that somehow him holding you close, arms around you, his frame engulfing yours he felt what you did. You felt this imaginary connection where he took all of that negative emotion and expelled it out, leaving flowers growing in their wake. The love that radiated from him filled the cracks and crevices with lavenders and peonies and for the first time in a long time, you felt at home. You felt like all this time you didn’t fit in anywhere and felt unwelcome to every house you were meant to call your home was only because this is where you belonged. He was your home. Holding him tight you listened to his faint heartbeat and breathing in unison with yours and felt lighter. He pulls back just enough to place his lips on your forehead, leaving in its place a reminder of his tenderness. You still felt broken, torn and defeated but somehow, unknowingly he glued a few parts of you back together by holding it all really tight in the hug using kisses to seal them back together. He gave you an endearing smile that emanated warmth and affection all the while still holding onto and somehow you felt like you could perhaps make it to the other side still breathing and you hoped that when you looked down at your hands then, your pinkies would still stay intertwined and you’d smirk at fate for winning a battle between the existence and nonexistence of forever knowing all too well who won.

#writing #writings on tumblr #writeblr #excerpt from a book i'll never write #platonic love #my soulmate #home #love #drabble

[annerly-san]

The Night’s Reminiscence | Chapter 1 | Takasugi Shinsuke (Gintama)

Alternate A03 Link:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/25601344/chapters/62137555

Verdant grass blades swayed in the wind as the scent of bloomed cherry blossom flowers wafted about her.  The lull of cicada thrills filled the air and beckoned the imminent arrival of summer.

It was warm.

She remembered the scratching and chaffing of the geta against her toes as she chased him.  Her lungs would ache with each stretch of breath she took and her heart pounded in her chest so loudly that she could barely hear anything else.  Out of breath, and out of reach, he always managed to evade her.

No matter how hard she ran to chase after him-- desperately seeking his attention and affection-- he would brush by the tips of her fingers and disappear from her sight.

Those piercing eyes of deep green were constantly fixated on something further ahead.  They looked at something that was beyond her.  Her naivety of childhood affections and innocent yearnings of the heart had once hopelessly wished to capture his gaze.

It was from a time that was much more peaceful and innocent.  A time where she was of more pure heart.  It was but a memory -- a recollection-- of the time she had her heart still intact.

Miyuki looked out from her window.

The lush countryside of her hometown was but a fleeting moment in the increasing industrialization that she saw beyond her window.

The gentle hills of the country were paved down and replaced with buildings of iron, steel and glass.  The greenery of nature had long since been uprooted and covered with endless trails black asphalt and gray concrete.  The wind, which had once carried the sweet scent of flowers and fruits in bloom, now gusted about with a nasty mixture of smoke, chemicals and toxins which devastated the lungs with an unfortunate breath.

The dull ache of her heart was not of forlorn yearning.  Nor was it of sorrowful pain from a past long gone.  No.  She surmised that it was but the aftermath of a despairing resignation-- a loss of all hope and prospect for a future that she could call hers.

Her attention was not divided for long.

The sharp tapping of the door alerted her to the maid that was now entering her quarters, relaying her surprise at her mistress’s early rise.

The commentary on how excited she must be for her big day went in one ear and out of the other as Miyuki slipped her arms through the kimono that the maid held out for her.

On a usual day, Miyuki would have glared at anyone who held the tenacity to speak of the insufferable marriage arrangement between her and her fiance.  A sharp tongue would have flicked out between her clenched teeth to chastise the imbecile who thought that a political marriage to the single most egoistical, spoilt and repugnant man to walk the streets of Edo.

The skin of her cheeks have grown thick-- accustomed to the slaps she received from her parents as reprimand for speaking ill of her soon-to-be husband.  It was most unfortunate that the skin on the rest of her face had not developed the same density in a metaphorical sense.  As much as she would much rather slit open her stomach and bleed to death rather than marry that abomination of a man, her wrists were tied and her mouth was gagged as she was practically sold off from her family as a political asset in order to gain some semblance of material wealth and power.

And now she stood in front of a mirror, watching as a veil of delicate blush was applied to her cheeks.  She almost wished that the maid would apply at least five times the amount of makeup to cover her face as to mask the inevitable shame and to shield the remnants of her pride.

“Oh, my lady, you simply look wonderful!”  The maid gushed as the last stroke of the makeup brush left Miyuki’s lips.  “You’re the most beautiful woman in Edo!”

The mirror reflected a picturistic bride.  Adorned in an elegant wedding kimono with her hair held back by clips made from gold and precious jewels, a woman that Miyuki refused to acknowledge stared at her with blank eyes.

“You’re soon to be married to a high government official!  How wonderful!”  The maid continued to gush incessantly as she escorted Miyuki to the palanquin that awaited her in the front of the manor.  “To live a life of care-free and luxury-!”

The words, spoken by one who knew nothing of the torment and suffering that came adjunct to this union, scrapped at the pits of Miyuki’s stomach irritably as small ruptures of growing anger bubbled up within her.

Miyuki stepped into the palanquin and took her seat.

The interior-- ornamented with the highest quality wood, finest silks, metals and jewels-- enclosed about her like a prison.  She felt herself being hoisted up into the air as the palanquin shook about with each step that the carriers took.

Out of the wooden bars of her transport, she stared past the bustling crowd of Edo’s common folk and back to the humble countryside of her past.

“Did you get hurt again?”  She gingerly reached out towards him in comfort only to be slapped away.

The boy turned cheek and replied coyly.  “Does it look like I’m hurt?”

His pride was clearly injured above all else.

His purple hair was disheveled and there was a swelling around one of his vibrant green eyes.

“No, but let me-”

“You’re annoying!  Can’t you leave me alone, damn it!?” Despite the calming sting in her hands, she tenderly took her handkerchief -- soaked with clean spring water-- and blotted at the small scraps and scratches on the boy’s face.

He winced, but allowed for her to tend him.  The unspoken permission blossomed into warmth in her heart.

“You’re really strong, Takasugi-kun.”  She sang her praise for him as she carefully cleaned him of the blood and sweat he accumulated in a fight that he had gotten into.

Her parents would have been mortified to see how close she had gotten to the son of a lower class samurai family, but she didn’t care.  The chastising, the meals forgone, the whips of bamboo sticks on her wrists-- she could tolerate them all.

Her family ran the prodigious military academy that Takasugi’s parents had sent him to.  A single instance of him defeating a group of students which were making less than civil advances towards her made her heart tremor in her chest.

Her interest and affection for him sprouted then.

Miyuki would always follow him around and watch him.  The way that he swung his sword around was mesmerizing for her to watch.

She would often sneak and watch him behind a tree or bush or gaze out the window of her room to hopefully spot him around and about in the academy.

When she finished her calligraphy lessons, she would find him to ask for him to show her the new sword techniques that he learned that day.

He called her annoying often and chastised her a great deal for bothering him even more so.

And even as he often yelled at her, called her annoying, and chastised her for running about and not being a proper lady as she should be, she never once felt upset or offended.

She was simply content with the fact that she managed to get him -- the object of her love and admiration-- to look her way even for just the briefest of moments.

The palanquin came to a halt and the heavy silk screen was lifted up to reveal a reel of carpet rolled out on the floor for her to step upon.

She could already hear the bustle of the crowd that her fiance had gathered as a means to shamelessly show off to uncaring spectators.

A familiar hand held itself out as a means to prompt her to take it.

She dejectedly placed her hand in the hand of her father’s as she stepped outside.

The cheers enveloped her senses as she was escorted towards the shrine where her soon-to-be husband stood.

Her father leaned in as to whisper in her ear.  “This is your contribution to the family.  Stand straight.  Stand proud.”  Those words were not meant as praise.  The underlying threat in her father’s tone was clear.  Perhaps he was being civil today for once as he didn’t bring mention of “being a disgrace” or “being a worthless woman” up as a means to stab at her esteem.  She wanted to slouch further but decided to not press her luck when the grip on her hand tightened to the point of near bruising.

Her father was a ruthless man.

It was to be expected from the head of a military academy.  But only she bore the callous treatment that her father gave.  She spotted her mother and younger brother standing near the front; her mother’s head held high and tilted up in a snobbish manner, and her brother had the most bored look on his face not bothering to hide the fact that he could not care to be present.

To think that the sole reason that their family was able to remain intact was solely due to the fact of her marriage.

The sudden change and worth that she held as well as the lack of choice and will in this matter made her hands ball up in a seething frustration.

Despite being the eldest, she was often discredited for the sole fact of being a woman.

At her birth, the instant that her father discovered her gender, he immediately sought out to produce another heir in hopes of raising a son.

And so, soon after her, a son was borne to the household.

While he was showered with undeserving praise for the slightest of things and held the affections of both parents in the palm of his hands, she suffered neglect and abuse.

It was not uncommon for her to hear from both parents on how worthless she was and how lucky she would be if she was able to be married off to an affluent family.

Both parents told her frequently that if she was to get on her brother’s good graces, perhaps he would be willing to provide a free spot in the inherited manor for her to housekeep and watch over his offspring.

Her brother knew that she was told of such things.  And he took advantage of it.

Often berating her or even physically bullying her-- pulled out hair and bruised cheeks-- no one in the house showed her any semblance of kindness nor respect of a human being.

How funny it was that it was her to get them out of the troubles that plagued them upon the Amanto’s invasion.

With the military academy being effectively shut down as a result of the sword ban, the esteem that the house had once held was shattered into dust.

It was a fitting justice for those who despicably held onto that power and used it to prey upon the weak.

But as the house fell into ruin, a high ranking Bafuku official had taken interest in Miyuki and wished to court her.  In return, the household would be brought out from ruin and financial woes.

Despite having the power to change the tides for her family, they treated her no better.

Her adamant refusals to go humor the official with dates resulted in beatings that included kimono sleeves and layers of makeup that would just barely conceal evidence of abuse.

Her attempts of escape led to recapture with padlocked doors and chains on her legs.

Her attempts to simply leave the world led to an uncomfortably intolerable surveillance of her actions for every second of each day she spent in captivity.

And now, powerless, she stood before the man whom she held no affections nor care towards as she nodded and agreed to his vows to become his until death do they part.

And as she felt the press of his lips against hers, she felt the last bit of hope and defiance in her disintegrate into oblivion as the vows between the two of them were sealed.

Miyuki stared blankly ahead as the food and festivities of the wedding began.  Her now husband placed a kiss on her cheek for which she could not muster even a look of disgust for.

The music and noise of the party were lost to her as she herself grew lost in her reminiscence of what once was, not caring for the unwelcomed hand of her husband that was now intertwined with hers.

As a young girl, she could never hold, much less practice, with the sword.  It was ironic despite her family hailing from a military background and running an academy to train the new generation.

Her fascination with the sword and learning from it manifested through her admiration of Takasugi.

Her eyes would observe his stance and swing with an intense curiosity, her own hands gripping a calligraphy brush or a flower stem and replicating his moves to its exact arc and velocity.

She was stricken with sorrow when she came across news that Takasugi left the dojo to study under the tutelage of someone else.

She did not grieve for long.

When she had snuck out to trail him after he had left his house one day, she stumbled across the school of Shouka Sonjuku.

Her eyes followed Takasugi in amazement as she watched him spar with another silver haired kid -- wide smile on his face.

Even as he was struck down and lost the round, he looked the happiest she had ever seen him look before.  She secretly watched him bicker with the student and teacher before finally leaving.

Trailing him quietly as he walked on the road back toward home, she noticed the cut on his hand and without a second thought rushed over to him in a state of concern.

“Y-you!”  She had startled him.

“Are you ok?  You’re hurt!”  She immediately took out her handkerchief to wrap around his hand only to be slapped away-- the fabric falling to the ground.

He immediately began to storm off.  “Don’t follow me!”

“A-ah, wait!”  She reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his arm.

He spun around in annoyance-- eyes glistening with distrust and hostility.

“You’re going to tell my parents aren’t you?  Like the goody two-shoes that you are!”  The words he spoke had barbs that stung the flesh.  But Miyuki paid the pain no mind.

“N-no!”  Miyuki exclaimed in protest.  “I-I got worried about you since you weren’t coming to the academy…”  She picked up the spoiled handkerchief from the ground and looked back up at him.  “I-I won’t tell anyone!  I promise!”

His eyes scrutinized her as her heart fluttered from him looking at her directly like this for the first time.

“...tsk…”  He grabbed her hand and spun around to walk back home-- pulling at her arm and walking at a pace with no regards to her.

As she stumbled in a breathy run to match his pace, she was unbelievably over the moon that her hand was intertwined in his.

The virtues of two people holding hands as viewed by a child are often perceived as pure and untainted.  The memory faded out of mind as she was brought back to the reality that was the honeymoon suite that her husband had rented out for the both of them to consummate their first night together.

Her husband’s hands slipped around her, tugging at the kimono caring not about the integrity of the expensive cloth that covered her.  

“My wife…” her husband’s whispers were low as he uttered that hateful title she now bore into the crevice of her neck.  She felt warm and wet traces trail across her neck and back knowing full well that there would be unsightly marks in the places where it lingered.

She passively stood there, her own hands placed atop his roaming ones as they traced paths up and down her body-- lingering in places of particular interest.

The mannerisms of her treatment made her realize the extent of which she was considered and treated as a tool.

Her past self would have toyed with the notion of love in marriage and the yielding of oneself as an act of declaring eternal love for one another.

But as she faced the reality she was in, there was no such thing as love.

She knew that now as the grip on her arms and legs were tight enough to hurt her and the blatant disregard for her comfort was evident in the drawing of blood as a result of viciously left bite marks and scratches.

She was foolish to once think that she could ever receive love.

Takasugi was never a man that she could even hope to love.

But her heart back then refused to accept that reality and only ever pour its love out endlessly for him.

Reality was cruel.

If her heart dreamed and beat to the rhythm of a fairytale, her eyes would at the very least open one day to see the truth.

That night was clear.

She could see the stars -- infinitesimal in the sky.  She wondered if she would be able to see them reflect in his eyes when he came to see her.  She wondered how many strands of his purple hair she could count as they tosseled in the warm and gentle breeze of a midsummer’s night.

Miyuki stood underneath the cedar tree overlooking the river’s bed.  The ambient sounds of nature lulled her into a peace of mind as she listened for the sound of footsteps amongst the buzzing of cicadas, the rushing of water against rocks and the chirping of crickets.

She had left home to find him.  For once, she could seek freedom and happiness on her own terms.  And she wanted to find it with him.

He had gone off to fight in the Joui war.  It was perhaps the kindness -- or cruelness-- of fate that allowed them to meet once more.

“Would you give me an answer?”  Her voice was shaking as she poured out her confession of love for him.  “I-I’ll wait for you at the top of the hill overlooking the river.”  She pointed at the lone cedar tree on the hill nearby before anxiously looking up to meet his eyes.

The unit that he led graciously let her through to speak with him in addition to having enough tact to leave personal space for the two of them to speak.

She would be content with anything.  She’d follow him into the army to help as a nurse or helping hand if he wished.  She would wait somewhere in the promise of his return from the war -- praying for his victory and luck.  Anything.  She would do anything for him.

But affections needed to be mutual.

Miyuki knew this.

The smallest corner of her rational mind compelled her to ask him.  Ask if he returned her love.

Whether he did or didn’t, her love for him must accept that.  She loved him enough to love him from afar.  She loved him enough to ask for nothing in return.

Her heart trembled in fear and excitement as she stared up into the sky waiting for him to arrive.

She wondered if she should have specified a time.

Her legs eventually grew tired from standing on the incline of a hill and she resigned to sitting down-- leaning against the tree trunk for support.

As the moon traversed overhead and the stars spun around and about the sky, she waited.

Until the dawn broke and the sun rose high into the sky, she continued to sit there.

Day waned into night again, and she silently thanked her family for not feeding her at times-- otherwise she would have to sit up and potentially miss him if he came by.

The pure, innocent hope of her love overrode the disparaging crackles of her heart as her eyelids grew heavy.  Miyuki thought that hopefully she could wake up just before Takasugi arrived so that she wouldn’t embarrass herself by sleeping so awkwardly.

But when she awoke, she found herself back in the manor of her home.  Confined to her room as punishment for running away, she despaired over how he might have been looking for her on that hilltop.

And on the tenth day of confinement in her room as she was remembering all the things she loved about him, did she have to force herself to realize that never once did he look at her with the same adoration as she did with him.  Only then did she finally open her eyes to realize that he would have never come to find her on that hilltop in the first place.  That he would never love her.

As she gripped the sheets of her bed, body driven into the bed with each careless and sloppy thrust of her husband’s hips -- pain and aches resonating throughout her body as sweat beaded on her forehead-- she knew that she would never be loved.

Her dreams of freedom, her hopes of love and her wishes of respect are all but an illusion that she had so carefully wrapped herself in to distract her from the painful truth that those were things unattainable for her.

Miyuki stared out at the foggy night sky-- barely making out the dull shine of the moon beneath the clouds.

This would be the last night in a long time that she would ever reminiscence on a more innocent time of her life.

#The Night's Reminiscence #Takasugi Shinsuke #gintama fanfiction

[deepintoforestwego]

How Fairest of Them All Was Born

She must have loved king once.  She still did,in some way. Probably.

Thing is, love was  a lot simpler than most people thought, and at same time very different but also exactly like what naive, idealistic youths took it for. It happened naturally, in the moment, yes, but it wasn't feeling, it was action. People had debated and discussed for ages  how much of it was affection and how much passion, which was more fundamental, the trust or time spent together, whether age burned out enthusiasm and deepened respect or brought understanding at cost of attraction... The queen knew, in way she knew her own name, that love simply was.

You gave birth to child? You loved it, and it loved you back.

You shared bed with somebody? Two (or more of you) loved each other, at least in that moment.

You exchanged marriage vows? You loved each other.

Love was simply natural,  a name for relationship that started when you did something intimate with another, something that you couldn't just do with anybody, but only with somebody worthy of you. Love was result of that special transaction, and it ensured that all was well between two of you.

Her husband had loved her very much, as should be obvious by fact that he married her. He allowed her her own chambers,  to speak with his kinsmen, lords and bannersmen like an equal, trusted her input in his decisions and decrees, allowed her to advise and admonish him as she saw fit, and to spend her money as she wanted, and even he gave her key to his treasury. This all meant that their love was very deep, and thus entirely deserved, for queen had won it with her pedigree, as ancient and heroic as that of king's own line, her reason and critical thinking, her ability to read and influence people, to prepare medicines and poisons, her gift for counting and organizing, her network of spies, as well as her craft, that allowed er to predict  things yet to be, and determine how next year's harvest would go.

He was kind, polite and considerate towards her because she had deserved it, because all men in world owed her that. She was fairest of them all, with her wavy hair,which seemingly never lost volume or got tangled, like strands of copper, and always done in form of intricate, respectful but enthralling braids, and no crown could come close to wildflowers she wove in them. Her skin was as soft as apple blossoms, and her cheeks and lips as lively as rosebuds, and she had eyes color of grass in may meadow, and flowers and jewels equally suited her. She always smelled very sweet, in fragrances of most well tended gardens, and dressed in colours as lovely and pretty as those of butterfly's wings. There was some strange, mature innocence in her eyes, and  delicious, tamed arrogance in her smile. Her face was tiny, delicate and soft, unmarred and well tended, and she had slight waist and slender limbs, as if she was doll made and painted by some very tender and careful artist. She went well with king, who was tall and broad and had face that was always full of coarse hair and tiredness, like bear in last days of November,  whose horses never lasted long and who could quite possibly crack man's skull with his bare hands.

( He had never hit her, for she never did anything to provoke him.

The queen believed that everything in life happened for some reason. Not because of gods, or some cosmic justice, but because actions reaped consequences. Thus, queen had no sympathy for children or women abused and battered by their fathers and husbands. If they were treated like that, they probably did something to deserve it. And if man was truly wicked to core, and simply loved tormenting everybody around himself, then they deserved it because they were far too weak to stop him.

The queen knew, just as she knew her own name, that sympathy only made you waste time and effort needed for your own goals on those undeserving of even your contempt.)

He wasn't faithful to her, because she never gave him heir.

He was fair, for a king, and he didn't admonish her for that, nor did he lessen her privileges, or even think of casting her away, for he was aware, as only few are, that a strong queen that would be clever, formidable partner was rare treasure. And he was wise, for sorceress scorned and humliated was terrible enemy to have.

But still he was a king, and so he took up mistress. One, yes, but you only needed to cut off somebody's head once too, and he might have very well done that to her.

The king's new lady was woman of considerable beauty, but far lesser than that of queen's. And though she was probably bit more warm and easy to get along with, because for all her charm and manners queen could be truly vindictive and far too eager to show off her superiority,  and though she had her own talents and a quite sharp mind, she couldn't match queen's cunning, nor education and knowledge she possessed, and of course she knew nothing of magical arts. Much conflict had there been between two of them, and their families, who was superior, who was wealthier, who was closer to crown, who slaughtered more of rival's sons under cloak of night, ever since they were young.

But court, who are flippant, capricious bunch, and have no use for cleverness, determined that king's lady had won, for she was of far more robust health, and of wider hips, and day after queen gave birth to first and last child she managed to carry to term, a stillborn girl, the king's lady gave birth to a healthy young boy, and then another, and another, until seven of them were running through palace, and none were ever called bastards, except bythe  queen when the king couldn't hear.

''The violets may be prettier than oaks, but when you need carve doors for your stronghold, common oak is only choice!'' Some minor nobleman said, and his companions laughed, and queen burned with rage, and grasped her throne's sides until her knuckles turned white, for she had to hold her tongue. Still she held door for treasury, and still king discussed all his decisions with her, and still all spies answered to her, and still she could send hail upon neighbor's harvests, and lady lived in comfort  but away from queen, but..

But king's children numbered seven, and they were allowed to call themselves his sons, and ate at same table as them, but still their mother saw them often enough to have far too much influence for queen's liking. And the first prince was growing up to be very beautiful, and second proved himself natural with sword and bow, and third was good at diplomacy,  and fourth had cunning glint in eyes, and fifth amazed all his tutors, and sixth was as obstinate and unwilling to obey her as much as seventh was attached to his mother.

And king didn't blame her, but neither apologized, as was his right, and he didn't come anymore to her chambers and so said nothing and did nothing to noblemen and huntsmen she brought in her bed, but his warriors, cousins, bannersmen did, and so did his lady, and queen couldn't slip a powder of herbs and innards in her wine, nor could she afford to burn king's lady's hair over specific hearth so that plague might strike her or bury poppet with her name on road so that carriage might run her over, and people talked.

The king was growing old. Were boar to gore him during hunt too deeply, or cold to take him too harshly, or were war to break out and last too long, or were he to fall from horse in accident over too firm ground... The king's lady was gathering her own followers, and none of princes loved or evn respected the queen..

Well, no wonder poor woman went mad, no?

When she started talking about how the king's lady had poisoned her, so that she might miscarry, fail to deliver her daughter, people took it for simple envy and spite, but agreed that there may even be grain of truth in that. Even when queen claimed the king's lady had been poisoning her for years, they agreed that paranoia was more than to be expected, and far easier to blame other woman than accept she was failure, and perhaps there was some truth in that, though it was truly outlandishly brave of her to say so to king's face. But she was angry, and desperate, and king was always easy on her, as was only reasonable with woman who might steal his dreams and turn him in a frog.

Some began to wonder, when queen accused  the king's lady of resorting to witchcraft, that she had paid witches to cast spells, so that she could steal life of queen's daughter to fuel life of her son, for that was very ironic and unexpected accusation, but always people sought to find their own faults in others, and few even wondered if there may be truth in that, for one sorceress might be able to recognize work of another.

But they were sure, when one day king found queen writing a letter, and upon his inquiry she looked startled, and answered that as each week, she was writing letter to teir daughter. Their daughter, who was so beautiful that upon hour of her birth she was sent to fosterage to queen's mother and brother (who had  both died long, long ago). And though she could still count and curse and advise as well as before, and appeared as reasonable as ever, none could break her of convinction that her daughter was alive, and very beautiful, and fully befitting of being king's firstborn, and that she terribly missed her home.

Such was her convinction, that in middle of summer, six months before eldest prince turned fourteen, she started to beg her husband to help her arrange her gifts, and carriage, and to prepare herself for travel, for their daughter wanted to spend time with her family, and share birthday with her half-brother. And though she took no money from treasury, she started to plan princess's feast, and embroider her a dress, and spoke with frequent fervor how it would take her a two weeks to go to her brother's home and back, and how she didn't want to be late to such important  occasion, for it would break her daughter's heart.

The king pitied her, and remembered fact that queen's sister-in0law and nephew, who she was always close to, and who were  often able to steer her moods and alleviate her sadness still lived, and thought that there could be no harm in letting queen leave, for she had already began grumbling over fact that no cook prepared meals for her daughter's birthday, and he couldn't imagine what terrible shock she would  bear at celebration itself.

And so he let her go, two weeks before his son's birthday, for her sister-in-law was gentle and wise woman, who would know how to keep her safe, and find way to stop disaster that would be imminent, should queen return to his son's birthday. When he couldn't see, the king's lady laughed, though her sons told her that was cruel.

Once her carriage left the king's stronghold, the queen laughed too.

On the first day in her ancestral home, she consulted her father's mirror, which had never lied, and in which she could sometimes glimpse future, and once again made sure that none were watching her, that none knew of her plans and that no trouble unforeseen would stand in her way.

On second day, she checked books and scrolls she had amassed over years, for quite heavy price though none were paid with coin or jewel or acre of land,  as king was too busy with his family, and once again made sure that she had memorized words she would need to speak, and amulets she would need to craft.

On third day, she put upon her special cloak, which she always kept hidden in locked chest, for her mother had woven it for her and inlaid it with feather of each bird that lived in their lands ( ''You are Freya in born in human flesh, my beautiful child'', said her mother, and suffered for it, but that would be some other story) and in half of an hour she had fled castle of king and towns of men for her own hidden halls, which rose high in defiance of Forest that grew on edges of human world.

On fourth day, she put upon her head a helmet of wyrm's skull, and robes of giant's skin, and earrings of draugr's fingers, and necklace of glass, said to contain the tears of ghost, and when moon rose at midnight she walked to edge of Forest, and took up fallen branches of ebony trees that grew there unchanging for centuries, and from them she carved four staffs and two eyes and one comb, and each shape in wood  had it's meaning and function, and set them in snow.

On fifth day she returned, and found them unmoved and untouched, though terrible blizzard had blown that day, and around them she shaped a child from snow, not stopping even as her knees stung from cold, even as her shawls turned wet, even as her fingers turned stiff and pink, as her teeth hurt from cold, as her nails broke.

On sixth day she returned with her servants, who slit throats of beggars, and pettiest and worst criminals they could find, and street urchins,and  the orphans and bastards, and those poor souls who lived alone because their villages deemed them mad and stupid and wicked, and of brigands and robbers and sick, all those who wouldn't be missed, even though everybody would notice their disappearance. Then she rung a little bronze bell, and each wound servants brough forth appeared on their own bodies, and then queen took out a bottle of powder, and blew it upon bodies, when blood soiled snow until it was as pink as young pork, and flesh rotted away until only pearly bones and black ash were left behind. And then, she sat down in snow, wrapped in doeskin and fox's furs, and waited through day and noon, fighting hunger, cold and temptations of sleep.

And on the seventh day, when death breathed upon her neck, and Hel made arrangements to receive her, the queen did three things. First, she took out a silver needle, such that you might use for embroidery, sharp as thorn, as painful as spliter, and pricked her finger. The second thing I will tell you not, for all creatures reserve respect of some kind, and she paid hefty price to attain such knowledge. But third I can tell you, though I think you should have guessed by now, if you know how these things go- she bargained.

(You must understand that, though queen could be as nasty as plague stricken rat, and more arrogant than thousand berserkers, and though she wasn't tenth as special as her mother thought, or half as wise as her father took her for, she did have her moments.

She knew that mortal magic, whether that of witches or volvas, or dragons or giants, or even draugr and Forests, was far from all mighty. To create life was far from possibility for any of them, and required aid of deeper, older powers, ones not from this world. Powers that required price.

She had her moments-she had sought out, fifteen years prior, to find one that wasn't cruel.)

And as bargain was completed, and queen clothed in ermine and pearls, she couldn't turn her gaze from figure she had made, which started trembling in hour in which, twice seven years ago, her contractions had begun. She watched as four staffs trashed and tumbled, like baby learning to walk, and wooden eyes blinked, and comb drove through snow until it's colour had bled out into it. She watched as ice covered wood, as pinkness was drawn out from newly formed bones, and joined snowmelt in blood  that flowed through veins of frost, as rime and ash coiled together and crafted pale skin, as some invisible hands sculpted king's nose and queen's eyebrows unto child, and as snowflakes wove themselves in tiny little slippers and stockings, skirts and coat, bows and crown, lovely and delicate.

Her daughter stood before her, born from magic and massacre,  and she was beautiful.

Queen howled with triumph, and grasped girl's hand, cold as dead fish, and flapped her feather cloak, and in a quarter of hour two of them found themselves before doors of largest of king's halls. Queen waved her hand, and they were thrust open, as if they were assailed upon by the greatest army in the lands, and they opened with sound like thunder, such that it overpowered all bards and all drunk bannersmen arguing, and  those closest to doors, it is said, had fainted, and few had problems with hearing for rest of their lives.

''Behold, o kingdom, your princess! Behold, o princes, your sister. Behold, o my lord husband, your firstborn!'' Queen exclaimed, as silent girl walked hesitantly, daintily, unto silent hall, as all gazed and gaped upon her, andnone disbelieved queen, even ones who didn't see a perfect bland of her mother's figure, her father's lines. They should have, were it any other child, they should have thought of orphans quietly bought and trained to act like true royalty, of illusions and spells, and would have were it any other girl, but this one, she was...

She was beautiful. You must understand, she wasn't pretty, or sweet, or cute, or good looking. When she grew up, she would never be attractive or handsome.  Were she dead, were she broken and bruised and bleeding and covered in filth and dressed in rags, she would be equally stunning as she was now. Such was her beauty, strange and otherworldly, kind that struck you down to bones, until you wanted to waste away because eating and sleeping would take away attention from miracle that she was, until you would cut out your own heart as present for her,more akin to statue of terrible goddess than  a girl.

You can't blame the king's lady for begging for forgiveness. To think that this girl had been hidden away in fostering while her spawn enjoyed comforts of palace, that such true royalty had been sidelined while her brats rolled in privileges their statues granted them, that her inferior son had such gotten even a single crumb when they should have been celebrating birth of such wonder? So she knelt, and apologized for fact that princess had to share name, inheritance and air with her bastards.

You can't blame the court, the  commoners, the citizens, the country for weeping when they saw her, moaning as guilt eclipsed them, the boy's tutors jumping away from them as if they were plague stricken, the lady's handmaidens for hissing at her, the stablehands for spitting in king's face. Few who heard what happened later would recoil in horror, until they had seen princess, and then everything made perfect sense.

You can't blame them for cheering as decision was made.

You can't blame the queen for suggesting it.

You can't blame the king for agreeing.

You can't blame the lady for sighing with contentment as she heard king's decision.

So whom can you blame,  for fact that seven princes happily skipped to their death, all so that their sister, whose name they didn't even know, might be named the heir?

( Humans always ask, and so often the answer is same- the one who never asked to be born, who still screams and begs to become part of woods and blizzards and flesh again.)

It was as queen watched ravens feast on body of the youngest prince, swaying on rope, his head, once full of that fat and rosiness that can be found only with three year olds,  turned blue and gaunt yet still smiling, that she realized her mistakes.

She had sought power willing to grant her wish that wouldn't be cruel. But she didn't ask after one who would have been kind.

And so she got her wish. A daughter so beautiful that no mortal might be able to resist her allure, no more than they could deny winter's chill- perhaps few would be able to bundle themselves up, build flames to keep it away, but they would still feel it.

A daughter so beautiful that any her wish would be granted. That wars would be waged, and centuries old feuds stopped for sake of second-long sight of her. A daughter so beautiful that all would dread her, and desire to obey her. A daughter so beautiful that she would be named heir without anybody complaining, that she could rule world when she has grown.

A daughter, who when grown would have no need of her mother,  who wouldn't be able to influence her in any way, or defend herself against wonder she had created.

(She understood three things then. First, why they boys thanked her as she sent them to their death.

Second, that her daughter was her greatest spell. And thus, only force strong enough to wholly crush her spirit.

Third, that one day her princess would be the fairest of them all. And then,  the queen would be ready to give her her own heart as present, because girl had earned it.)

And that is where trouble started, because queen couldn't think of anybody having power over another and nor using it, and she thought herself only one who didn't like to be controlled.

#Story:Snow White #character:evil queen #fantasy #fairy tale retelling #Original Work

[pseudonymfox]

A Widow and the Outlaw

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Cowboy AU)

Summary: All alone in the woods Bucky finds a griefing widow and decides to save her life. Both of them showing each other there worlds...

Warnings: mentions of killing/violence/death, fluff, guns?

A/N: Enjoy! I really like it :) Yes I had to take this picture hehe

Up in the hills was supposedly live a rich couple all alone in a cabin, sleeping on their piles of cash he heard from a fella. And if it’s one thing Bucky and his outlaw gang needed than it was money so he prepared everything for a long ride with food and munition to get over the next few days that it would take.

The tip he got about them was better be something good otherwise it would be nothing but waste to ride this far into the mountains. Through different terrains and weather changes he rode about three day until he could see his destination in further distance. He wanted to take one quick look before going in to make sure he wasn’t going to walk into something he couldn’t handle. He didn’t have much of a plan, it was just a quick in and out.

As he got closer he could make out small whimpers and cries from a woman that was sitting on ground, a grave in front of her. She looked like she’s been through a lot, her hair disheveled, the clothes she wore dirty and wet from the rain. Must been sitting there for a few hours he thought and got off of his horse, closer to her.

“All we needed was each other..that’s what you always told me” she mumbled under her breath.

“Uhh..- You alright there Lady?” he asked her carefully trying not to startle her.

“Who are you?” She asked surprised and stood up, taking a few steps away from him.

“Sorry..I don’t mean no harm” he replied, holding his hand up in surrender to assure her that Bucky wasn’t one of the crazy ones out here. People around here could be cruel and disgusting, he couldn’t say he was a good man but he kept his sympathy around most people. Not always thinking to kill or steal from people.

“Well it doesn’t make a difference anymore if I get killed from an outlaw, from wild animals or simply from starvation” she sighed quietly, picking up flowers and placing them gently on top of the grave.

“-We came out of the city in search of something different...something where we could be free..something true” she added as Bucky decided to stay silent for a moment.

“-We were a pair of fools” she chuckled softly.

“Is there a train station or somewhere else I could bring you to?”Bucky asked hoping to help the lost lady.

“No I..he wouldn’t want this...I am gonna do this for you Elijah” she stood now up again and starting to walk away, something about her seemed to catch his interest.

“I am gonna leave you to it then” he replied and wanted to walk back but felt like he couldn’t leave like this. Somehow he felt guilty for something he wanted to do to them even tho he never did.

“-Is there anything left for you to get over the days?” he spoke up again and she turned around again.

“Nothing. We didn’t have an idea about hunting. Couldn’t even catch a darn mouse, just found some poisenes berry’s” she told him grinning sadly.

“Well you won’t last much longer if ya don’t know how to hunt...Come on I’ll show you” he suggested her. Bucky wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he would leave like this. It would be her death, he didn’t want more undeserved deaths that laid heavy on him which followed him every day, plaguing his mind.  

“Alright but you better not try any funny business. I may be weak but I know how to stand up for myself” she said proudly and followed him down the path.

“I don’t doubt that” Bucky laughed leading the way.

“You ever skinned an animal before? or learned how to read tracks?” he asked quietly as the got further between trees, trying not to scare the animals away.

“No but as I told you I haven’t catched much before” she told him, her voice low as well.

”You gotta learn how to if you want to survive out here” he let her know, the city wasn’t really far away but still.

“I am aware of that. Where are we heading? Do I need to look for something?” the women stopped by his side kneeling into the ground, gazing through the wood.

“We try it a bit more down, near the river. Look for movement and listen closely” he explained her and she nodded following along again.

“What happened to your husband? If you don’t mind me asking” he asked carefully choosing his words thinking that she must be still grieving about the loss.

“A bear got him. Came out of nowhere. It was horrifying to watch, he survived only a for a couple days after that...Buried him two weeks ago” she told him looking to the ground.

“I’m sorry” he let her know.

“That was more his dream then mine.” she said, Bucky slowly stopping and going more carefully.

“You seeing something?” he asked and looked at her taking the bow and an arrow ready.

“No just lots a trees and the river. Stuff like that” she sighed out looking around more crunching her eyebrows together, concentrating to see something.

“Alright. Close your eyes for a second” he told her really softly.

“How is that supposed to help?” she mumbled back but did it anyway. Maybe he is robbing her now or knocking her out she thought and stepped a bit back, after all they just met and she was pretty sure that he is an outlaw and that mostly never meant something good.

“Just do it, concentrate on sounds. Tell me what you hear?” he whispered and saw the smirk on her lips growing.

“You talking. That’s what I hear.” he breathed out a chuckle.

“Open your eyes again and look again” he instructed so she did and looked around until her eyes widened and she pinched his arm and pointed towards. “There is a rabbit” she whispered smiling from ear to ear.

“See you concentrated on the forest instead of thinking and looking to hard for something specific.” he said and pointed the arrow at the rabbit, breathed another time in and out deeply before letting the arrow go and hitting the rabbit letting it fall over dead.

“Impressive” he heard her mumbling, probably to herself and catching her watching him closely, like she was taking notes in her head about this for later. They both got closer to the now dead rabbit and he pulled it by it legs up taking the arrow out again before holding it towards her.

“You got a knife?” he asked her as she took the rabbit by both legs like Bucky did.

“No not right now. Should I get it?” she raised her brows, the cabin wasn’t far but it was better she learned it without one first.

“No just try to skin it like this. Hold it tightly by his legs, grab his fur and just pull downwards really strong..it will come right off” he explained and nodded doing what he said, she pulled and pulled til the skin came right off, easier as expected as she got right grip for it. “I did it!!” she laughed out proudly showing the rabbit up to him.

“Yeah see. Not that hard” Bucky rested his hands and on his hips.

“Ok I think that was enough for one day I think I should get back now” she bit her lip from grinning so proudly. With the rabbit slung over her shoulder they made their way back up the path.

“Thank you for showing me that. I wouldn’t make it if you wouldn’t showed up” she said after a few moments of silence, looking at him as he nodded.

“No need to thank me. The rabbit should at least last a few days before you have to catch another one”

“Well now I know how to” she winked at him letting him blush faintly. Bucky tried to hide it as they got up the stairs but she noticed it.

“I would invite you in but I look like a mess and in there is one too” she took a fallen out hair strand behind her ear and opened the door just a crack so she fitted through it.

“I’ll be on my way then” he tapped his hat and turned around to leave. She watched him get almost to his horse before she got a few steps out again.

“My name is (Y/N)” she called out.

“Bucky Barnes” he smiled back, getting on his horse again and riding away down towards the city.

A week has barely gone by as Bucky was riding around in this area again and thought that he could check in and see that how you were doing already. In further distance he heard gunshots sounding through the forest so he made his horse running  a bit faster just in case something was going south at your cabin and as he took the path up his breathing and heartbeat slowed down again as he saw you with the gun shooting or well trying to shoot some bottles you stood up.

Concentrating on the bottle you wanted to hit you pressed the trigger again but missed once again, the gunshot letting you flinch a bit. Not one of the damn bottles broke or even came in the slightest distance of the bullets.  If it would go like this longer you had to go to visit the gunsmith again for new muntion. Sighing out frustrated you let the gun drop, wanting to give up as you heard a horse coming closer. You immediately turned around and held up the your rifle to the visitor. Bucky was surprised but didn’t even flinch, he was used to be getting pointed at with all kinds of weapons.

“Bucky! Good lord I could’ve shot you” you rolled your eyes and took the gun down.

“But you didn’t” he chuckled and watched you turn back around to the bottles just pointing at them. “You wanna learn how to shoot?” he asked and you looked back.

“How are you always around when I need help sir?” she raised her eyebrows at him and all he could do was shrug and walk to her side.

“I was around and heard shootin’ so here I am..wanted to check in anyways” he confessed, having (Y/N) on his mind now for the past couple of days. She looked better now, more relaxed, cleaner with new clothes and all. Like a new person. “I guess I could use a little help..again.” you sighed out, clearly not happy about it. You usually didn’t like to get help all the time but out here you needed it, it was still all so different than to your life before.

“Nothing to be ashamed of..It’s simple.” he said and came up to her side standing closely to her side, she could already feel his hot breath against her skin as she tried to concentrate on his instructions and on the bottles.

“Make sure you stand right so you don’t pulled back to much, hold you arm a bit up and lean the end against your shoulder then just point out, concentrate, take a deep breath and pull always the trigger after you breathed out” he explained showing her and as he stepped away again she pulled the trigger but missed letting her breath out frustrated. “I’ll never understand that.” she said.

“Here I’ll show you and then you try again. You can learn, not that hard. I promise” he took one of his rifles from his horse.

“You have experience from years of being an outlaw”She said shaking her head and as he did it it all looked so easy as he did it and fast, he didn’t miss.

“Try again” he said as he turned back to her so she did even if it was the last time before she would get to frustrated with this or lock any more people to her.

Pointing the gun, doing what she was told and then pulled the trigger as the bottle exploded into shreds. She hit one.

“I did it..Who would have thought?” she laughed out and he applauded her as she bowed  like she knew a lady would do.

“-You know I actually cleaned up a bit and was just making dinner...You want to join?” she asked and laid the gun away.

“Sure. Would be my pleasure.” he grinned and followed her into the house. It was pretty simple just from the outside but had just her touch something he didn’t often when he got into cabins that are as far away as this one.

“Just take a seat. It’s almost done. It’s with Rabbit, one I catched myself” she told him stirring in it and preparing two dishes for the both of them. Handing one Bucky who digged in right away, he was a interesting men cause he clearly didn’t have manners which you liked. You thought that this was probably one of the first times he had like a dinner inside at a table like “normal” people around these days but after all he is a outlaw so you weren’t surprised the way he acted.

“I guess it tastes good?” you chuckled as he stopped himself and put the plate down trying now not to eat like a animal.

“Yeah it does great quite delicious” he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and sat up.

“I think that might be also the first time that the food I made doesn’t taste awful. Cooking was also new for me. I was raised with a silver spoon in my mouth so I practically had to learn everything for myself after we moved up here so I am even more grateful that you showed up” she told him and poured him something in a glass to drink.

“Really? Well if it’s make this easier I don’t know either how to cook” he whispered like it was a secret making her giggle, which must be the most wonderful sound he ever heard.

“Well I guess we have to learn a lot more from each other” she smiled at him from across the table.

“I guess so”

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[kinktae]

Tempting || 8

Y/N is an angel and a good one at that. She steers clear of the seven deadly sins, especially lust. She is out performing her duties when she runs into a demon. Luckily for her, that demon, Taehyung, doesn’t seem to buy into that whole “Angels and Demons are sworn enemies” idea. But unluckily for her, Taehyung just so happens to be the very embodiment of sin. Especially lust.

Or, “For someone who is meant to be so pure, you sure are dirty, angel.”

pairing: demon!taehyung x angel!reader

genre: fantasy, smut, angst

warnings: alcohol use, mentions of suicide/death, lots of dirty talk and smut lol

A/N: this is less biblical and more supernatural?? Like less focus on religion itself and more focus on angels and demons as immortal creatures even though I might reference some “biblical” terms lol sorry this is too unholy anyways it’s fine. oh and this is a dream I had!

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 (final)

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CHAPTER EIGHT (**JUST REALLY FILTHY SMUT IM SORRY, also hasn’t been edited yet!!!)

"Y/N?" Jimin's voice spoke, causing my head to snap up.

After coming to terms with the fact that the page on Vampires was gone, I had somehow gotten sucked into continuing to read about other kinds of demons. I didn't even hear Jimin arrive through the front door.

"Oh, hi." I breathed, slightly on edge, thinking that Jimin might have been Yoongi, coming back to threaten me once more.

Jimin stood just outside the study, a hand placed lightly against the door frame.

For a moment, neither of us said anything and I felt myself sink into shame as I remembered the last time Jimin and I had interacted.

"Um, about this morning..." I trailed off, unsure of how to begin. Jimin gave me a small smile.

"It’s alright, button. I know you’re just overwhelmed from all this studying you’re doing. Being a Power is a big responsibility, I’m sure I would’ve taken the suppressor to go out to Limbo, too."

If there was anyone I hated lying to, it was Jimin. Sure, I felt bad lying to the others; Namjoon was like an older brother to me, and Hobi was the person who made me laugh the hardest. But Namjoon often scolded me and Hobi liked to banter with me. Jimin, however, didn’t tease or lecture me. He was nothing but supportive and comforting and the thought of lying to him made me feel like absolute dirt.

“Thanks, Jimin.” I sighed, accepting his consolation despite how undeserving of it I was.

Jimin ran a hand through his silver hair, “Of course.”

“How are your flowers looking?” I brought up casually, in an attempt to dilute the still awkward atmosphere. Jimin broke out into a huge smile.

“Peachy keen!” He enthused cheerily. I raised an eyebrow and giggled at his words.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say ‘peachy keen’.” I mused. Jimin’s cheeks turned pink and he shook his head with a laugh.

“Sorry. The girl at the park says funny phrases like that all the time. I hear it so often that I’m starting to pick up her speaking habits, I guess.” He explained. I recalled the girl he was talking about briefly from this morning’s conversation, right before things had taken a turn.

“You're so cute, Jiminie.” I teased, enjoying the way he turned even redder and how he pouted at me. Hobi had once referred to Jimin and I as a pair of cherries, insisting that we were always bright red from blushing.

"Hey, look, I'm sure the others understand like I do but, uh, you might want to apologize to Hobi and Joonie when they get home in a little bit.”

Hobi and Namjoon we're going arrive soon? How long had I been reading for?

“What time is it?” I questioned. Jimin and I both looked over to view the clock that hung up on the wall.

Oh crap, it was past 8 PM. Taehyung always came over at 8.

"Are you done studying? Since you're out of your room, do you want to hang out with us? We haven't all had a night to hang out in a while–"

"Oh! Uh, no! Sorry! I, uh, am still studying. I was just... taking a break. I'm sorry." I quickly rambled, closing the book that lay in front of me and hastily shoving it back into its appropriate spot in the shelf.

I slipped past Jimin quickly, "Good night!"

I hurried up the stairs and ran towards the closed door of my room. Opening the door, I slipped in silently shutting the door behind me.

In my room stood Taehyung, who was rummaging through one of the drawers on my dresser.

"Jimin is the flower angel, right?" Taehyung hummed, clearly preoccupied by the contents of my dresser. I nodded, slightly surprised that he remembered the specifics of my roommates. I had told him once a while back, but I didn't think he actually cared much.

Staring at Taehyung's frame, I took in what he was doing. I frowned. Was that... my underwear drawer?

Taehyung pulling out my favorite pair of cotton panties and waving them at me with a smirk answered my suspicions.

I squealed in surprise and shoved him away from my dresser. I made several grabs for my underwear, all of which proved to be futile as Taehyung raised them up and out of my reach.

"Taehyung!" I exclaimed in utter horror, trying my best to keep my voice down in case Jimin decided to come upstairs. This was so humiliating.

"I remember these." He laughed, causing me to freeze in place.

Images of Taehyung peeling that exact pair of underwear he had peeled off of me before placing his tongue against me flashed through my mind, causing my face to heat up.

"You pervert! Why are you going through my underwear drawer?" I chided, trying to fight off my blush.

Taehyung looked at me as if the answer was obvious, "I wanted to see what kind of skimpy lingerie you owned."

I scoffed in disbelief, reaching once more to try and retrieve the stole garment.

"Yes, well," I huffed, "I don't own any of those kind of things so please just return that to me."

Taehyung let out a laugh at my attempts to reach the highly held underwear. He took a step towards my dresser before placing the underwear back into its designated drawer.

"Shame. I really love lace. Not that your cotton panties aren't nice. I especially like the little pink bow on the front."

I placed my face into my hands, in disbelief but also in ungodly embarrassment. I heard Taehyung chuckle before prying my hands away from my face.

I glared at him as he intertwined our fingers.

"You're so fucking cute." Taehyung said, placing a soft kiss against a pink cheek of mine.

"Shut up." I muttered, trying to sound annoyed despite how content I was from his soft display of affection.

"You were late and I got bored so I went through your drawers. What were you and Jimin talking about?" Taehyung muttered casually, his lips peppering kisses along my jaw.

God, I had missed Taehyung doing these kind of things. Taehyung and I spent most of our nights outside and in the city, small moments of intimacy like these didn't occur often.

"Nothing important." I assured him, too concerned with the fact that his mouth was now pressed against the exposed skin of my neck to go into the details of Jimin and I's conversation.

"Are you sure?" He breathed, licking a hot stripe against my neck. I whined at the gesture, closing my eyes. I gripped his hands firmly.

"Yes."

Suddenly, Taehyung pulled away from me, leaving me confused and frowning. Taehyung simply smiled at me.

"Okay, let's go, then."

"Go where?" I whined, wanting Taehyung to go back to what he was doing just moments ago.

"There's an amusement park in town! Today is the first day and it's a Wednesday so it shouldn't be too crowded." He explain excitedly.

I remembered that Jane had made plans in advanced with a friend to go to this fair, back when I was her guardian. It was hard to believe how much time had passed since that day.

It was hard to believe just how much my life had changed.

Taehyung made his way to my window, which was now usually left open, because of him. Slipping his legs through the opening, he sat on my window sill. He looked at me expectantly.

"Shall we go, angel?" He asked, flashing me a boyish smile.

My life had definitely changed, but with Taehyung around, I couldn't help but feel as if it had changed for the better.

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The walk to the amusement park was a pleasant one. Taehyung talked the entire way, clearly far more excited about our outing than I was. I was excited as well, I had never been to an amusement park, but my thoughts couldn't help but be preoccupied.

I wasn't sure whether or not to tell Taehyung about Yoongi's visit to my house. Taehyung had a right to know about what his friend was doing behind his back, but I couldn't help but feel as if telling him would be a mistake.

Yoongi was convinced I was bad for Taehyung, and ruining his friendship with Taehyung would only further his grudge against me. At the end of the day, Yoongi was just worried about Taehyung. Anyone who cared about Taehyung that much couldn't be completely evil, right?

"Look, we're here!" Taehyung announced excitedly. Even if he hadn't announced it, the amusement park was hard to miss.

It was set up on the city's fair grounds, land set aside for things like festivals or concerts. I could see quite a few of the taller rides from our location; the sounds of screams and laughters filling the air. I felt myself start to grow more and more excited, the amusement park's aura infectious.

"Let's go!" I yelled happily, grabbing Taehyung by the hand and running towards the entrance.

We arrived panting, but I couldn't help but jump in place with excitement. Fluorescent lights illuminated the entire park and I stared at amazement at the arrangement of colors.

I went to look over to Taehyung to point out a particular ride, only to find the spot next to me empty.

What? Where did he go?

I opened my mouth to call out to him before I spotted him standing in line for ticket purchase. I skipped over to him.

"You're getting a ticket?" I questioned in surprise. Taehyung glanced over me before muttering a 'yes' under his breath. I almost asked him why he was whispering before I remembered that if Taehyung was getting a ticket then he was probably visible to humans right now. They could see and hear anything that he did.

I let out a sigh. No one could see or hear me so if Taehyung were to speak to me like he normally did, people would look at him strange.

So instead of speaking, I stood beside Taehyung, my hands clasped together behind my back as I waited in line with him.

I was surprised he was buying a ticket. I had assumed that he was going to turn invisible, being that demons had the option to control their visibility, and that he would slip in wordlessly with me.

We reached the ticket booth in no time at all, and even though I didn't want to draw attention to Taehyung by getting him to speak to me, I couldn't help but share my excitement.

"Ah, I'm so excited!" I squealed, spinning in place dramatically. Taehyung glanced over at me with a smirk before directing his attention to the man in the ticket booth.

Suddenly, I grew curious as to what was inside of the booth. Was there a bathroom in there? Where did he keep all the tickets?

I leaned over Taehyung, in order to look into the booth and see. All of this was new to me.

Taehyung let out a noise of disapproval and extended his arm out and to the side; to the average human it looked as it if he was stretching, but really he was pushing me out of the away.

"I want to see." I groaned with a frown. I looked behind Taehyung to see that the woman in line behind him wore an expression similar to mine as her two screaming children tugged on her clothes, desperately trying to gain her attention.

"One one-day adult ticket please." Taehyung asked politely. I let out an excited noise and watched as the man stared at the Taehyung for a moment before nodding and handing him a ticket and a thin bright orange slip of paper. Taehyung grabbed it out of the man's hand with a smile before moving towards the entrance. I frowned as I analyzed the exchange.

"Taehyung?" I asked, trailing after the moving demon.

Taehyung said nothing, instead handing over his ticket to one of the staff members monitoring the park entrance. Taehyung and I walked into the noisy area.

Taehyung took a look around at the busy scene laid our before us as he wrapped the orange paper around his wrist; the paper had some sort of adhesive built into it, turning it into some sort of make shift bracelet.

He finally turned towards me, "Yes, angel?"

"Did you pay for that ticket?"

Taehyung stared at me, his eyes widening for a moment before returning to normal.

"No."

"But... he gave you a ticket, anyway?" I pressed, having a feeling that I already knew exactly what had just happened.

Taehyung looked uncomfortable; he reached a hand over to rub the back of his neck.

"I kind of... made him give me a ticket. Not like forced him, but yeah– It's kind of hard to explain."

I knew exactly what he had done. He had slipped into that man's mind and told him to hand over the ticket without asking to paying for it. This was exactly what the chapter on Scelus had described.

"If you weren't going to pay for the ticket then why did you bother getting one at all? Couldn't you just have become invisible like I am and walked right in?" I asked, trying to sound less bother than I was.

I don't know why, but I had assumed that Taehyung didn't used his powers often. But seeing as how casually he just entered that guy's mind, I was beginning to rethink that assumption.

Taehyung gestured towards the orange bracelet on his wrist, "This bracelet guarantees us a spot on each ride. There is a limited amount of people that can fit on each ride, so if I have this, I can save a place for both you and I. Beats being invisible and sat on by humans, huh?"

Despite how uneasy I felt about Taehyung using his warped mind control on an innocent man, I couldn't help but admire how smart the blond boy was.

"Nice thinking." I complimented with a small smile, wanting to push my thoughts aside and just enjoy the night with Taehyung.

Taehyung smirked at me, "Beauty and brains, I've got both. You sure lucked out with me."

I let out a laugh before intertwining his arm with mine.

"Come on, you handsome genius. Let's go try our luck on some of those balloon games."

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Two hours had gone by and it would appear that angels were prone to something Taehyung had referred to as motion sickness.

Two rollercoasters and one spinning ride in, and I was efficiently nauseated. Taehyung had suggested we sat down to let my stomach settle, so I took refuge on a nearby bench.

"Are you feeling any better?" Taehyung peered down at me nervously, biting down onto his bottom lip. The moment I told him I felt dizzy, he turned into a panicked wreck, forcing water down my throat in case I was dehydrated, and buying me a lemonade in case my blood sugar was low.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just needed to sit down." I assured him with a nod. I really was feeling better, I just didn't know how to tell him that if I so much as looked at a rollercoaster, I might be sick.

"Shit, I'm so sorry. I ruined your first amusement park experience. I wanted to do all the extreme rides first before the lines got longer as the night went on." Taehyung sighed, sitting down next to me. He threw an arm around the back of the bench behind me and tilted his head to rest against mine.

I couldn't help but admire how cute he looked doting over me.

"It's not ruined!" I assured him. "I love spending time with you. Besides, that first rollercoaster was loads of fun. You know, before the nausea set in."

Taehyung rolled his eyes before smiling fondly at me.

"I love you." He told me. I couldn't have bought the flush off my face even if I tried.

"I love you, too." I told him, my voice still shaky every time I said it. I don't think I'd ever be used to getting to say it so freely.

Taehyung's eyes flashed down to my lips, and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. Instead he gave me a smirk.

"You up for one last ride?"

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The Ferris Wheel, as Taehyung had told me it was called, was some sort of enormous rotating metal circle. I had initially shot it down the moment I found out that it moved, but Taehyung assured me that it wasn't a ride as so much as a way to look over the park.

For whatever reason, no one seemed to want to go on it as the line was near nonexistent and Taehyung and I got an entire passenger car to ourselves.

I took a step onto the circular cabin and wobbled a bit as it rocked slightly. Sitting down, I watched as Taehyung climbed in after me, thanking the man who closed the door after us.

"Are we sure this is stable?" I asked, already feeling myself begin to grow nervous.

"Would I endanger your life, angel?" Taehyung responded, feigning hurt with a hand over his chest.

The Ferris Wheel had already began to move, slowly, taking us higher.

"Even if you wanted to, you couldn't on this thing. This is the slowest ride ever." I noted. My stomach, for one, was grateful for that.

Taehyung only laughed in response, intertwining his hand with mine. I looked down at our hands and smiled. I had been wanting to hold his hand all night, but I didn't want to draw attention to Taehyung by having him look like he was holding onto nothing.

I let out a sigh.

"You're not having fun, are you?" Taehyung said, sounding sad.

"No, I am! I promise you I am." I said, dismissing him with a shake of my head.

"Then why do you look so sad?" Taehyung pressed. I met his eyes for a moment before looking out over the passenger car. We were decently high up now.

"I dunno. It's just... being an angel is kind of lonely."

"Lonely? What do you mean?" Taehyung said, sounding confused.

I sighed, "It doesn't bother me too much, usually, but it's kind of a very isolating thing to not be able to be seen or heard."

"I can see and hear you." He remind me.

"Yeah, but they can't." I said, looking down at the scrambling bodies of the park go-ers. Each of them here for the sole reason of enjoying themselves and the company of others.

"Other angels can see me, of course, so it's not like I'm entirely invisible, but even here with you, I can't hold your hand or have conversations with you whenever. Because even though you know I'm here, they don't."

I took a moment to gather my thoughts.

"I'm supposed to protect those people down there. But I think the main reason why I can't is because a small part of me resents humans. I'm envious of them. I can pretend to run around and go on rides like I'm one of them but I'm not. It's an awful thing to be standing in the middle of a crowd of people and still be on the outside, never really apart of it."

I could feel Taehyung staring at my profile. The view was incredible now, we weren't even at the top but I could still see almost over every ride. The colorful lights swallowed the pieces of metal and plastic, leaving instead an ocean of flashing fluorescent color.

"I think of Jane and I think of memories I have with her; I think of Jane as a friend. But to her, I'm nothing. She’ll never know who I am." I turned to face Taehyung, my eyes beginning to water. "That's why I wanted to meet your friends that night at Limbo. Back then, I knew it was a bad idea to get involved with demons but... I dunno... it's just nice to have people who can see me– who know I'm there."

Taehyung took me surprise by grabbing both sides of my face to kiss me.

I reveled in the kiss, missing the feeling of his mouth against mine, but before I could move to deepen it, Taehyung pulled away.

"I'm sorry, angel."

I blinked.

"Why are you apologizing?" I said, tilting my head in confusion. Taehyung ran a thumb against my cheek, using the hand that was still cupping my face.

"I didn't know you felt like this."

I shrugged, "I never told you, it's not your fault for not knowing."

Truth was, I hadn't told anyone this. I didn't allow myself to think too much on these thoughts, finding it better to suppress my feelings. My self loathing only grew the more I realized that I thought like this.

"I know. It's just that all this time I thought all my problems would've disappeared if I just became an angel. I didn't know that angels had these kinds of thoughts. Even when you tried to tell me, I didn't fully understand. But now I do. And I'm sorry."

The Ferris Wheel came to a sudden stop and Taehyung and I turned away from each other to look out at the view. We were at very top now. From here, all those people looked so small, like they were just little insignificant dots and not the reasons behind my self loathing and insecurities.

"We're a pretty fucked up pair, aren't we?" Taehyung breathed, not taking his eyes off the view.

"Mm, maybe." I said, causing Taehyung to look at me.

"Or maybe we're the normal ones, and everyone else is fucked up."

Taehyung stared at me, eyes wide and I frowned once I noticed.

"What?" I inquired, confused as to why he was looking at me like that.

"Angel, you just cursed." He laughed.

This time it was my turn for my eyes to widen, "I did?"

Taehyung laughed again and nodded. I couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"I guess when you love someone you end up picking their speaking habits." I mused, leaning into Taehyung's side to nudge him.

"I really am tainting you, huh? It's not too late, angel, you can still fall out of love with me and save the chastity of your vocabulary. Chastity is a virtue, after all." Taehyung suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

I smirked.

"Chastity is overrated."

Grabbing Taehyung by the collar of his shirt, I pulled him into me, wasting no time in deepening the kiss.

Taehyung let out a moan at my words and the sound alone was enough to encourage me to swipe my tongue against his bottom lip. Taehyung ran his hand into my hair and tilted his head so that his tongue could better meet mine.

He tasted like the cotton candy he eaten 20 minutes ago and I greedily accepted the taste.

I clutched onto the fabric of his black t-shirt liked my sanity depended on it because it did. If Taehyung pulled away now I didn't know what I'd do. One of Taehyung’s hands snuck up my torso and placed a careful squeeze on my breast.

I gasped away from the kiss, not expecting him to be so bold.

Suddenly, Taehyung grabbed both of my hips; he lifted me up and spun me around, placing me on his lap, my back pressed against his chest. Taehyung's mouth found my neck instantly and he bit down on it eagerly.

"No marks, Taehy–"

My words were cut short by the feeling of Taehyung prying my thighs apart.

He ran his fingertips down my inner thighs gingerly, and I shut my legs the moment I realized his final destination.

"Taehyung, not here." I squeaked. Despite my words, I grinded against Taehyung's hardening bulge. Neither my body nor Taehyung chose to listen to me.

Taehyung grabbed one of my legs and forced it to bend, setting my foot down on the seat, exposing myself.

"Shut up." He said, placing a small slap against my newly exposed inner thigh.

I made a mental note to stop wearing skirts and dresses around Taehyung all together.

Taehyung's didn't hesitate for a moment. He ran his long fingers up and down my clothed core, causing me to wriggle on his lap. I latched my hand around his wrist to pull his hand away but a firm rub against my clit seized my movements.

I whined lowly, hating that Taehyung had me in this position. It was humiliating. 

"Look at you, angel. Legs spread, letting me play with your pussy while you face everyone. You're fucking filthy." Taehyung scolded into my ear before taking my earlobe in between his teeth.

"N-No, I'm not." I whimpered, my eyes closing and my hips starting to move to meet his fingers’ movements.

"I can feel how wet your panties are. You like this, huh?" Taehyung teased. I could only moan in reply when his fingers once again found my clit.

I opened my eyes to see that we had descended and were nearly at the bottom of the Ferris Wheel. There at the bottom stood the worker that had closed to the door for us.

Oh, God.

"Taehyung, mm, you have to stop. T-There's someone at the bottom." I pleaded. My body was past the point of listening to me, so I prayed that my words would be enough to get Taehyung to stop.

To my horror and absolutely delight, Taehyung merely pushed aside my panties and sunk two of his fingers inside me.

I let out a squeak and threw my head back, resting it in the crook of his neck. This was so wrong.

"He can't see you, baby." He reminded me quietly as we reached the bottom and the Ferris Wheel came to a stop.

I clasped a hand over my mouth.

"You enjoy the ride?" The worker asked politely stepping forward to speak to Taehyung.

"Quite the view." Taehyung smiled back, not letting up the motions of his hands for a moment. Moans were slipping through the cracks of my fingers and it was ridiculous how wet I was.

The worker must have notice Taehyung's odd hand motions because he glanced down at where Taehyung's hand entered me.

Let out an embarrassingly loud moan and bucked my hips forward. I knew the man couldn't see me, to him it just looked like Taehyung was moving his hand oddly, but I couldn't help but imagine that he could see the way Taehyung was wrecking and stirring up my insides.

"Mind if I go for another round?" Taehyung asked, sounding unbelievable innocent despite what he was doing to me.

The worker's eyes flicked back momentarily to Taehyung's hand, looking slightly confused, before snapping back up to meet Taehyung's eyes, clearly not wanting to seem rude and stare.

Taehyung removed all fingers to rub at my clit. I moaned loudly, and raised a hand to hide my face, my face had never been this hot before.

"Sure thing. It's kind of a slow night anyways." The man laughed, stepping away from the passenger car to let it continue to move.

"Being invisible has its perks after all, huh?" Taehyung chuckled.

"I hate you so much." I cried out as Taehyung entered me once more, sinking in knuckle deep.

We had begun our ascend already and the worker was far below us but I could still imagine the man's eyes on me.

"No you don't. You loved it. I could feel the way you clenched around my fingers when you thought he looked at you."

Taehyung's dirty words only coaxed more moans from my mouth. He was making me feel too good for me to quip back some sort of response.

"Who knew my filthy little angel liked being watched." Taehyung hummed to himself, only further riling me up. I knew I wasn't going to last for very much longer.

"Remember the way you danced against me and Jungkook at Limbo... I bet you'd love it if I fucked you in front of him, hm?"

I moaned out at his filthy words, feeling my high nearing itself by the second.

"I'd fuck you so hard, angel. Just to show Jungkook what he can't have. You're mine." He growled, running his nose along the length of my neck. His free hand reached over to rub against my clit, and I nearly started sobbing.

"Ah– Taehyung!"

My climax hit me harder than I was expecting it to, and I wasn't sure if it was because of how public all of this was or because of Taehyung's filthy words.

My back arched and my thighs quivered, having effectively been turned into gelatin.

Taehyung continue to finger me through my release, only stopping once I stopped shaking.

"I missed the sounds of your moans, angel." Taehyung told me sweetly, pressed a kiss onto my cheek. I could only hum in response.

"Are you going to yell at me for finger fucking you in public once you regain the ability to speak?"

I nodded my head in agreement before pausing, and then shaking my head side to side.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Taehyung chuckled.

Taehyung put my leg back down and helped me pull my skirt back down.

"Taehyung." I began finally, turn in his lap to look at him.

"Ah fuck, here it comes. Okay I'm ready. You can yell at me now." Taehyung said, frowning as if to brace himself.

"Spend the night with me." I told him softly, my face slightly pink.

Taehyung looked at me in awe, clearly not expecting what I said at all.

"Really? Wait, why?" Taehyung said, eyeing me suspiciously. Taehyung had tried to sleepover multiple times, and I had shut him down every time, on the account that it was too risky; the boys could accidentally find out about him.

I laughed at his accusatory tone.

"Because," I began, wrapping my arms around his neck, looking up at him through my lashes, a small smirk on my lips.

"You missed the sound of my moans."

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WELP I GUESS MY APRIL FOOLS JOKE WAS MAKING YALL THINKING THEY WERE GONNA FUCC IN THIS CHAPTER LOL no but actually I felt like it would be too rushed if I did it in this chapter so next chapter it is. PLUS LIKE I THOUGHT OF THIS SCENE AND IT JUST NEED TO HAPPEN OKAY?? ily

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