#sending my soul to every artists who drew him in a dress ever. thank you for your service | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tojismaiden · 3 years

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sketch | levi ackerman x reader

WARNING: none. just fluff and a tiny bit of angst.

prompt: after finding out you did sketches as a hobby, levi decided to challenge you and asked you to sketch someone you hadn't met before.

NOTE: this is based on the eren fan art that i saw but i forgot whoever it was that posted it and i thought of doing one for levi.

The Survey Corps were aware that your father was an artist. One that could sketch someone and something with perfect accuracy and sometimes even sketching someone and something that he hadn't seen before and based it upon someone's description of them. Your dad had somehow passed this knowledge to you before he died on the fall of Shiganshina and ever since then, you had secretly taken up sketching as a hobby— one that you would do whenever you were down, stressed, or just wanting peace.

However, you weren't exactly slick enough as you sat yourself down against a tree because soon or later, Sasha had seen you and your drawing and begged you to draw her a picture of a freshly cooked steak. Connie somehow heard the commotion and asked if you could draw something you hadn't seen before to which you said yes and kindly asked you to draw a picture of his hometown.

Eren, Mikasa, Armin, and Jean soon followed and all were amazed by your accurate sketching skills and how fast you would make them.

The commotion would soon draw the attention of one Captain Levi who looked at the group annoyingly mainly because they still weren't done with their chores. He hated seeing people slacking and wasting their time.

He would step out of the cottage and began walking towards the group.

"Oi, you brats!" His strict voice would immediately shut up the group, making them stand straight and look back at the Captain.

"What the hell are you all doing out here? You're not even finished with your chores, the cottage still looks and smells like shit."

"We're sorry, Captain, we just got distracted." Eren would say and gulped, fearing what Levi would do as a punishment for slacking off.

"Yeah, Captain, but look! Y/N here is so talented? Remember when she once told us that her dad was a sketch artist? She could do it too and look what she drew for us!" Sasha beamed and showed the drawing you had made for them causing you to smile sheepishly and looked up at Levi.

You were currently injured after you had twisted your ankle when you fell off a horse so Levi decided to be kind enough to let you off the hook and heal while the others did your portion of the chore.

Levi looked down, the infamous stoic expression plastered on his face as he looked at the rather intricate and impressive details of your sketches.

"Look, Captain! She even drew my hometown and she hasn't been there before. She just drew it based on my description but she got it all right!" Connie would add and showed him your sketch of Ragako. Connie's words somehow got his attention and Levi looked down to look closely at the drawing before pulling away.

"Tch! You slacked off of chores for some sketches? Thought you brats did better than that by now. Go back inside and clean!" Levi barked causing the group to put their fists on their chest by their hearts and saluted Levi before running back inside the cottage.

"I'm sorry about that, Captain. I didn't mean for them to slack off." You'd eventually say and stood up carefully from the ground after gathering your sketchbook and pencil with your crutch, "I was about to send them back but they were far too excited with my drawings."

Levi was silent for a while. His back was turned to you as he watched, from afar, his squad going back inside the cottage to continue busying themselves.

"Springer said that you could draw things that you haven't seen before?" He would ask and you would nod in response.

"I-I... I guess? My dad taught me how to do it when I was young. He used to do it all the time." You'd reply. Levi hummed in response before turning his head back to look at you.

"I suppose the same applies to people you hadn't met before?"

You hummed in response and nodded again.

"Yes, Captain. I've done it before."

Levi nodded and put his hands inside the pockets of his pants before he nodded over to the cottage.

"You can walk, right? Come to my office, I have a task for you. But don't ever speak to anyone about this. Do I make myself clear?" His words caused you to nod vigorously, fearing what type of punishment you would deal with if ever you even spoke about this to any living soul.

"Y-Yes, Captain!"

"Good. Now let's get going because once Hange gets back, I won't have the time to do this."

And with that, you followed Levi back to the cottage but since the group had been busy with their chores, they didn't pay you any mind and only thought you were going with Levi to discuss some things about your next move, knowing that you won't have to stay here for long.

Once you entered, Levi gestured to the chair in front of his desk before he closed the door and walked over, sitting himself down on his chair.

"Not sure if I could still remember but I'll do my best. You're going to draw a woman." Levi started, causing to scramble and flip your sketch book open to a completely clean blank page.

"She's fairly young. Around her late twenties or early thirties. She has long black hair. Straight, parting in the middle." He would say, all while staring off in the distace as you nodded and sketched your way to his description of this woman that he speaks of.

You didn't know who it was that he was describing. And a part of you doubts it would be his lover. Levi didn't seem like the type to fall in love with his comrades or even has the time to engage himself in such a thing especially when humanity is at the mercy of those man-eating Titans.

Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you decided to focus more on Levi's words.

"Her face is heart shaped. Eye brows are a bit thin. Straight, slightly upturned nose. Narrow, grey eyes. Small but full lips."

You took note of what this woman looked like and the more you sketched her, the more you realized this woman looked a lot like Levi except for the fact that she looks much softer compared to him. Unlike Levi, this woman had a soft stare despite her narrow eyes. She wasn't at all emotionless and frowning. You thought it would best suit her if she was smiling just a tad bit. Your instincts told you so.

"Give her a white dress. Smock."

You'd nod and followed Levi's instructions as you went ahead and gave her a smock dress that looked so fitting for her. Silently, you hoped you gave Levi what he was asking for. You didn't know who this woman was but deep inside you knew she must have been someone who was very important to him.

You were now putting in shades onto your sketch, making sure the woman in your drawing looked flawless as possible. It was so bizarre that she looks so much like Levi. It was like Levi himself in a girl's clothing and his hair longer but without the undercut he usually sported.

Once you were done, you carefully stood up and gently place your sketch book onto his desk face down so he could turn it over himself once you sat down.

"Did I get it right, Captain?" You asked, watching him as he turned the sketch book over, his eyes widening slightly as a breath escaped from his lips.

You'd watch as Levi brushed his fingers against the paper, as if he was trying to memorize every part, every crevice of your drawing of this woman. You noticed how his eyes looked rather... soft for one moment before he realized he wasn't alone in this room.

"I hope you don't mind." He'd say and went ahead to carefully cut the drawing from your sketchbook with a cutter. For he didn't want to risk ripping it.

"By all means, go right ahead." You'd say.

"You captured her perfectly." Levi said, his gaze never leaving the drawing, "I remember her wearing a dress like this. It was white but since the Underground was as dirty as a rat's home, the dress turned dirty grey."

You stayed silent as he spoke, nodding slowly at his story.

"If you don't mind me asking, Captain, but... who did I just drew?"

Levi was silent for a while before he set the drawing aside and pushed your sketchbook carefully back to you.

"She's my mother. Her name was Kuchel. She died because of some kind of disease and maybe starvation."

His words left you speechless for a moment that your eyes widened for a bit before you nodded slowly.

"She's beautiful."

"Yeah. She was. She was a prostitute in the Underground so you could imagine how it was living there. But she did her best for as long as she could."

"She must be proud of you. Being humanity's strongest soldier after all."

Levi scoffed and looked as if he was trying to fight off a chuckle, "She'd have my head is more accurate. If she was here, she would have never let me joined the Survey Corps. And if she found out that I did, I'd have an earful with the woman."

You'd chuckle, "Mothers are like that, I guess. Doesn't matter how old you are. You'd still be their kid."

Levi nodded slowly before he stood up from his chair and leaned against his desk.

"Okay, brat. Enough with the chit-chat. Go back with the others and rest up. We don't need dead weight for when we make our move, won't be long 'till we have to get going."

You nodded, taking note of Levi putting up his walls again though you already knew it would eventually happen considering this man wasn't the most approachable person in the world.

"Yes, Captain." You'd say and grabbed your sketchbook from the his hand before you held on to your crutch.

"And, Y/N?" You lifted your head up to look at him.

"Thank you. It's been years since I last saw my mother and I feared I may have forgotten what she looked like. I only ever saw her in my memories, in my dreams. This is the first time I talked about her since she died. So, uh... thank you."

You smiled softly and nodded your head.

"You're welcome, Captain. I'm glad I drew her accurately."

"I should ask you to draw someone for me again. But that's a story for another time."

"May I ask who it is though?"

Levi paused and gulped.

"They were my comrades. They were with me when I first joined here. They were with me when I was in the Underground."

Your mouth formed a small 'O' before you hummed in response.

"Alright, enough talk. Get out of here, brat, I got shit to do." Levi would say before you nodded and went on your way and closed the door behind you, making your way back to the group where they began to bombard you with questions as to why you were in Levi's office, to which you lied and answered that you were discussing what the next move would be.

They bought it, of course.

Unbeknownst to you, Levi smiled slightly down at your sketch of his Mom.

"You still look beautiful as ever, Ma."

#attack on titan #attack on titan fic #levi ackerman #levi ackerman fic #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #kuchel ackerman

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cross-poison · 4 years

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CLARITAS. (PART 9)

CLARITAS. Din Djarin/OC. (PART 9)

WORDS: 4.3k || WARNINGS: None, just soft.

A/N: Thank you all for supporting this fic so far! The feedback has made me smile and tear up many times this week and I can't thank you all enough for your kind words.

Once Elliotte’s eyes were covered by a wrap of thick fabric, the Mandalorian held two fingers in front of her face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Uh… three…? I don’t know,” came her response as her fingers sifted through the carefully aligned piles of flowers, all sorted by color, “You’re going to have to let me know what color I’m holding… and yes, it does matter.”

Elliotte felt the faint shift in the air as the man settled in the grass across from her. “I will, I will,” he replied, “And you can’t see anything, right…?”

“Even if I could, I have my eyes shut… but please, if you’re uncomfortable with this, you don’t have to--”

“You’ve been nothing but trustworthy since I met you. I can offer you this much as thanks.”

Ell became silent at that, sitting back on her knees and fiddling with the hem of her dress. After a moment came a soft pop and hiss as his helmet disengaged, and a faint thump as he set it aside in the grass. She could hear him draw in a faint breath, and in that moment it was difficult to determine who felt more nervous.

In an attempt to break the uncomfortable pause, Ell lowered her head in the direction of the flower piles and began feeling around for them. “What color is your hair…? Do you have hair? Are you allowed to answer that…?”

When the Mandalorian spoke next, it was without obstruction--the first time she’d heard it so. “...It’s brown.”

“Then let’s start with… red.” Beneath her blindfold, Ell’s brows furrowed with concentration as she tried to remember the layout of her flower piles. “These are…?”

“Yellow.”

“And these…?”

“Blue. To the left -- there.”

Elliotte’s hand finally settled over the proper color. She took a few in her palms and shifted forward on her knees, reaching out to him carefully. Her knuckles lightly brushed his cheek and the Mandalorian recoiled abruptly. “Sorry--! I’m sorry--” she began, but he settled himself and drew closer again.

“No, it’s… it’s fine,” he answered slowly, willing himself to concentrate, “Here,” he bumped her wrist with his gloved hand, guiding her touch upward until her fingers brushed the softness of his hair. Mando was stiff beneath her touch as Elliotte carefully measured out strands of his hair, trying to gauge how long it was and how best to arrange a pattern within it. She’d cut longer stems on her flowers in case his hair was too short to wrap the way she did her own, but she’d quickly come to find his hair was curlier and a bit longer than she’d originally anticipated.

Before placing each flower in his hair, she wrapped the bottom of the stem around her index finger and snapped it off, shortening it enough for her to disguise behind a curl of his hair. All the while, his eyes were on her blindfold, the anxiety that she could see through it never fully dissipating. Try as he might, though, his resolve began to crumble. Mando was able to watch the way she set her jaw in concentration as she looped a stem around her finger, and the way she chewed the inside of her lip as she fastened the flower securely in his hair.

Hearing her speak about artresmour before, he could not comprehend how the use of flowers could hold such a significant impact. How could putting flowers in one’s hair deepen a bond between people?

As he watched his companion work through the process with him, he could understand now.

The giver offered a piece of themselves within each flower; They hand-picked every flower, every stem, and each stem was finely woven between itself and other stems, invisible behind a curtain of hair. The giver was the artist, and the recipient, the canvas. The finished product was a work of art, but only the canvas knew the detail of every brushstroke and the genius behind it on a most personal level. It was a secret shared between the two of them. A silent dance of two souls in an empty meadow of flowers, and no one but the harpist and the Mandalorian around to know the significance.

How long had it been since someone touched his hair…?

Elliotte wove blossoms of red and yellow, alternating every so often and using nothing but her hands and muscle memory to guide her through the pattern. About halfway through her process, she felt the Mandalorian begin to relax. She felt the way his bunched shoulders loosened and how his breathing had mellowed out, and she knew if she could see him now without helmet or other obstruction, his eyes would be closed. He was no longer anxious.

She thought fondly back upon the countless nights her mother had tucked her into bed in a similar way, after Ell had been crying her eyes out over whatever trivial matter troubled her young mind. Her mother, always a patient woman, would sit at her bedside and sing nursery rhymes while speckles of white and blue flowers took shape around Elliotte’s head like a crown of petals.

It seemed so long ago, and life hardly ever offered moments of security and sanctuary like she had known when she was little. Even still, the act of artresmour was one of the best ways to ease a mind into a sense of belonging. Everyone yearned for it in some way -- even metal-clad men from a distant planet.

All good things must come to an end.

Elliotte fastened the last flower into his hair and felt briefly around his head to make sure everything was staying neatly in place. Once she was satisfied, she reluctantly retracted her hands from his hair.

The loss of comfort was immediate for both of them. Just as quickly as it had started, the honey-sweet solace brought about by the simplest of human contact was severed, and the weight of real life came crashing back to the forefront of their minds.

“...Hungry?” Ell asked to break the tension, once again managing to draw the Mandalorian’s attention. She patted around in the grass until her hand brushed the roughness of the basket from the marketplace. She pulled the wooden basket onto her lap and opened it, fishing around until her hand closed around one of the palm-sized useme nuts. As she held it to him, he accepted it and the opportunity to eat a meal in the presence of another person without worry.

Elliotte retrieved one of her own and again set the basket aside, shifting in the grass until she was facing the lake ahead. She crushed the thin shell in her hand and peeled off the shards, exposing the large seed within and pulling it out of the rest of the casing. Mando copied her actions and bit into the seed. It was rather plain in flavor, as most freshly harvested nuts were, but there was a hint of enjoyable sweetness to it.

A comfortable silence filled the air between them as they enjoyed the cool breeze wafting across the hilltop, sending ripples across the surface of the lake. Elliotte was still blindfolded, but she didn’t seem too bothered by it. Truth be told, as much as the Mandalorian wanted to remove the slip of fabric and be met with her blue eyes once more, he didn’t want to mess up the artresmour by putting his helmet back on over it.

“I’m sure it probably looks ridiculous,” Ell said, snapping him from his thoughts, “We’re taught to do it pretty much from the day we’re born, and yet… I’ve never had to do it with my eyes closed. It’s kind of a fun challenge.”

“It looks wonderful,” he replied, and he meant it. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from his reflection in the lake, and he especially couldn’t look away from the spots of red and yellow tucked into his dark hair. He looked like autumn. He looked like fallen leaves and a fireplace--like telling ghost stories and silhouettes bundled in warm furs, tucked away from the chilling bite of an evening frost.

It’s like a picture.

Mando hadn’t realized he’d said the words out loud until he heard Elliotte shifting beside him. He turned his head to watch her discard the empty useme shell and reach up to her own hairline. For the briefest moment, he thought she was reaching for the blindfold and nearly sprang for his helmet, but her fingers instead wrapped around a curl of her hair that had become untucked and began playing with it between her fingertips idly. “In a way, it is,” she murmured, one shoulder lifting in a sort of half-shrug, “Me, I’ve always seen it as a sort of living poetry--just instead of weaving words, you’re weaving flowers. I’ve never been too good at putting words to paper, so artresmour makes for a satisfactory outlet.”

“And playing your instrument doesn’t?”

Elliotte gave a laugh that sounded more like a scoff. “The nobles make for a rotten audience. They don’t really listen to it anyway.”

“Then why do you play for them?” he inquired.

“It’s less of an outlet and more of a necessity. The nobility are… difficult to work with, to say the least. They lack respect and common decency, but they pay better than anyone else. You said you used to be a bounty hunter, right? Surely you’ve had to deal with a number of unsavory people in order to get paid.”

“I have,” he admitted, unable to count on both hands the number of names that immediately came to his mind, “But… in a way, I’m able to remove myself from it. They have no idea who I am beyond a suit of armor and an empty nickname.”

“Is that why you can’t take your helmet off? To maintain some sort of anonymity?”

“Partially. The main reason is due to my religion. No living person has seen my face since… well--in a long time,” he explained, trailing a gloved finger over the t-shaped visor of his helmet beside him. “I blindfolded you not because I don’t find you trustworthy, but because if you did see… I would have to kill you. Or else never put the helmet on again.”

“You don’t owe me any kind of apology or explanation, if that’s what you’re getting at. I would never ask anyone to make that kind of sacrifice just because I was feeling selfish! There’s no amount of curiosity worth overstepping a boundary like that,” Elliotte answered simply, crunching away at another useme nut.

“You’d be surprised at the number of people who believe they’re entitled otherwise.”

Ell angled her head toward him, brow furrowing in bewilderment. “You don’t say? Here I thought I’d seen the worst of people. A sprained wrist isn’t looking so bad right now,” she mumbled, lifting her wrapped arm to emphasize.

Mando’s gaze watched the movement of her forearm. “How does it feel…?”

“It’s not quite as sore today. Hopefully is isn’t as bad as I originally thought. Then again, I’m really in no hurry to go back to the palace…”

“Ideally, you won’t have to,” he said, finally reaching for his helmet and slipping it back on over his artresmour’d head. It clicked into place, and the next time he spoke his voice was once again muffled by the vocoder. “I’m going to pay you the same rate for your guidance that you were being paid for your instrument.”

As soon as the blindfold was removed from her eyes, Elliotte shot him an incredulous look. “Yeah, right, I wouldn’t ask that of you. That’s ridiculous.”

Before she could further protest, Mando was already passing her a handful of credits. “Please. It’s the least I can do. You need it more than I do.”

Ell hesitated for a moment, looking as though she made to reach for them, but instead her hands gently folded his gloved fingers back over the currency. She shook her head slowly, worrying her lip between her teeth. “Your offer is generous--truly, it is, and I’m exceptionally grateful, but… the truth is, the money isn’t specifically for me. I’ve got some… people I’m trying to look after. People who are in much more of a dire situation that myself. I have enough in my savings to keep me fed and a roof over my head for a while…”

“Then give it to them--I don’t mind.”

“Mando, you are one of them,” she said, and for the first time he noticed the wetness forming at the corners of her eyes. Elliotte paused for a moment to compose herself, closing her eyes to concentrate on how best to continue. “People have been stranded on this planet for months. Acquiring Listronian fuel these days is no easy or cheap task, as I’m sure you’re growing aware. If you burn through your savings, you’re sure to be put in a situation just like them, and with your kid--”

“Ellie,” he said, and judging by the way she jolted, perhaps it came out a bit sterner than he intended. “It’s going to be alright. You’ve already got enough to deal with; The last thing you need is to start worrying about me.”

Elliotte gave a weak laugh, lightly wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “I can’t help it--you’re very easy to worry about.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle. “Am I? Well… you’d be the first to think so,” he stood and offered her his hand to help her to her feet. “You seem to have rotten luck of your own. First the wrist, then an attempted robbery… can’t seem to catch a break this week.”

“Well, it’s not been all bad. I got some nice company out of it, didn’t I?” said Elliotte, retrieving the basket from beside her and turning to begin the walk back down the hillside.

Another soft laugh escaped through the modulator. “I’m not usually what people would consider ‘good company’.”

“I suppose the armor would be a bit off putting to some.”

“That and my typical encounters with people aren’t exactly the ‘friendly’ kind. When you have a lot of enemies, it’s best to hold your tongue in their presence. It’s safer for you if they don’t know much about you.”

Ell didn’t respond, and they were overtaken by silence as they descended the hillside, enjoying the coolness of the air as Cietovus 8 sank behind the hillside and left them in growing darkness. Before long, they’d reached the bottom of the hill.

Back on flat ground, Elliotte turned to give him a smile. “Thanks for humoring me all day. I know the market isn’t super fun, but it is essential to life on Listronus. Hopefully Listrona Hill was a bit more enjoyable.”

“It was… and thank you for showing me. You make one hell of a tour guide.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes as the countryside faded into darkness behind them and the lights of the city drew nearer. “Do you mind if we make a quick stop before we call it a night…?”

“I don’t mind.”

On Elliotte’s route, they crossed through the center of the city, passed the palace and her house further down the street, and continued along a quiet path to the western outskirts. Mando recognized the area quickly as the place he’d rescued Elliotte from the would-be mugger the night before… what was she doing in this part of town so frequently?

His question was answered soon after when Elliotte turned up the pathway to a worn-down house surrounded by overgrown shrubbery and hidden from the view of the street. Mando followed her to the door as she knocked rhythmically on the chipping wooden. Before too long, a woman with hair like fire opened the door. Her brown eyes were soft and full of kindness, and her presumably long hair was tied in place by dozens of tiny yellow flowers. She couldn’t have been much older than Elliotte, herself, but her expression immediately lit up when she saw her. The woman pulled her into a bruising hug and made some comment about how she’d told Ell not to be out at this time of night. The Mandalorian shifted his weight from foot to foot, and only then did she seem to take notice of him.

The redheaded woman recoiled in surprise, “Ell, I truly thought you’d brought me a statue, but… this must be the Mandalorian you’ve told me so much about.”

Ell only had time to give an embarrassed “Rhy--” before the other woman stepped aside and held the door open.

“Come in, come in. My goodness, you are tall.”

Mando gave a sheepish ‘thanks’ and stepped into the small building behind Elliotte. The interior wasn’t much more impressive than the outside; It was small and cramped, and the smell of wood rot was rather prevalent in the air. To his left, he was surprised to find a crowd of people huddled around the small fireplace. When they took notice of Elliotte, many smiled or waved in greeting. Hardly any of them were Listronian; Mando recognized a number of species from planets far off. All at once, things began to click into place.

The fuel crisis.

Elliotte mentioned that she knew a number of other people stranded like he and the child were, and said that a large portion of her income went to providing for those in a worse situation than herself. All this time, she’d been aiding them.

“This is Rhythimi,” Ell said, once the door was shut firmly behind them, “My best friend. Rhy, this is Mando.”

“Mando. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Rhythimi answered kindly, extending her hand.

“Wish I could say the same,” he replied, shaking her hand whilst stealing a glance in Ell’s direction.

Rhythimi chuckled. “No, don’t be silly. If I’ve remained anonymous, that means Elliotte’s done her job. That being said, if you’re here that must mean you’ve found yourself in a similar situation to all these folks… low on fuel?”

“That’s right.”

“In that case, I’ll be sure to add you to the wait list,” said Rhythimi.

“Wait list?” Mando inquired.

“Of course. For fuel.”

“You’re able to get it?”

“Sure, but it’ll be a few weeks… or even a few months. We aren’t exactly following legal protocols here. But… We’ll do what we can to get you home.”

The Mandalorian inclined his head.

“Sorry to drop in on you with a guest unexpectedly, Rhy,” Ell chimed in, “…we’ll be out of your hair shortly, but we did bring you these. Hopefully they’ll come in handy,” Ell said, setting the basket of useme nuts on the table.

Rhythimi smiled gratefully. “Of course they will. Every little bit helps. And don’t you dare apologize… seeing you is one of the few things I look forward to every day.”

Ell smiled, and the two exchanged a quick hug before she bid her friend and the refugees goodnight and made for the door. The cool air returned as she and the Mandalorian crossed the porch and descended the few stairs to the grass. “I apologize for not telling you about her sooner,” she said in a hushed whisper, trying to keep her voice down in case anyone was attempting to listen in, “I know you need fuel--I’ve known that since we met, but I hope you understand… I had to make sure you were trustworthy first.”

“I do understand,” he replied, turning his helmet in her direction. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“Helping us.”

Elliotte turned to look at him, beaming with a smile that reached her eyes. “No worries… I’m glad to be doing something for a good cause.” The two reached the main street before she spoke again. “Thank you for your time today. I know it was… a lot of seemingly pointless information, but it feels nice to have someone to tell it all to.”

“Of course. I look forward to the lessons to come. In the meantime, I’ll walk you home,” he replied, and Ell looked like she wanted to protest, but he held up a gloved hand to quiet her. “No, you won’t be ‘troubling me’, stop it. You got mugged on this exact street corner last night. I’m not taking any chances.”

As much as she wanted to, Elliotte couldn’t argue with that. “Fine. But you have to take a cup of tea back to your ship with you.”

“Deal.”

By the time they began their trip down the street in the direction they’d come, the streetlights had begun to illuminate the ground around them. The Mandalorian felt much more at ease with the increased lighting the closer they got to the city, and much more relieved knowing she had agreed to let him walk her home at this time of night. Although his faith in her continued to grow, his faith in the city deteriorated. There were much more underlying issues here than he’d originally anticipated.

Between a haughty nobility, a fuel crisis, a growing homeless population, poverty-stricken individuals, and a greedy king atop it all, Mando couldn’t help but wonder how gentle souls such as Elliotte and Rhythimi had managed to survive on this planet. They both were a light in a tunnel of darkness… a clarity. A brightness.

A brightness the Mandalorian had scarcely witnessed in his many years as a bounty hunter. Without Elliotte, he hardly believed he would have given this planet more than a passing thought. He would know nothing about their culture or the people, and not too long ago he wouldn’t have cared. However, more than anything he now wanted to learn more.

Mando reached this conclusion the same moment they reached her doorstep. “Thank you again for everything,” she said, smiling over her shoulder at him. She reached for the handle and tried to turn it, but the door didn’t budge. She cursed and patted the sides of her dress, and even her sleeves.

There was a long pause before her forehead thumped against the wood of the door. “The key. I locked the key inside.”

The Mandalorian went to respond, but he watched her gaze shift from the door to the overhanging balcony a few feet up.

“Hold on,” she mumbled, crossing the small porch and taking a large jump. Her hands found purchase on the bottom of the balcony and she hoisted herself up with skillful ease.

“This hasn’t been your first time locking yourself out, has it,” Mando observed, watching with his arms folded until he was sure she was up safely. Then, he copied her motions and swung himself over the rail.

“First time while I had company,” she answered, pulling the balcony doors open. She stepped inside the revealed room without a second thought, but the Mandalorian hesitated. The room was surprisingly spacious, with a closed closet at one side, Elliotte’s harp propped against the wood of the door, and a large bathroom at the other. In the middle of the room was a small couch and coffee table, and to his left was a small bed encircled by a thin white curtain. It became clear rather quickly that he was looking into her bedroom, and he immediately felt as though he was intruding.

Elliotte seemed to notice his hesitation and lifted her hands to ask him to wait. “You don’t have to come in! You can stay there--I’m just gonna run downstairs to get your tea.”

Mando gave a single curt nod and graciously turned to busy his attention elsewhere… “elsewhere” happened to be looking out over the railing of the balcony. Without his helmet, he wouldn’t be able to distinguish the features of the buildings barely visible in the darkness, but he was able to recognize the shape of the palace down the street, and the neighboring homes on this stretch of road. The marketplace was empty, and the stalls were covered individually by large sheets to attempt to protect the wood from rain.

Before long, Elliotte made her way back upstairs, cupping her hands around a mug of steaming tea. “Here you are,” she said, carefully passing the mug to him, “Freshest Listronian tea you’ll get this time of night.”

He thanked her and took the mug from her. “Same time tomorrow?”

“We’ll start whatever time you want. I kept you out longer than I intended today, so… sleep in and spend some time with your kid.”

The Mandalorian smiled behind his helmet and realized a bit too late that she was unable to see it. “I’ll meet you here.”

The conversation should have ended there, and yet neither one of them made a move to leave. Instead, Elliotte averted her gaze, looking out over the city.

“Earlier today, you called me ‘Ellie’... I don’t know that you meant to, but you did. No one’s called me that since I was a kid.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”

“No, don’t apologize,” she said quickly. She scratched her arm sheepishly, vision still focused on the flickering lights in the buildings across the street. “That was my mother’s nickname for me. It was my favorite.”

Mando didn’t miss the hurt in her eyes when she mentioned her mother, but even more so, he didn’t miss the fond smile that crept over her lips. He turned his helmet slightly to the side, still watching her through the visor. “...Thank you for today, Ellie... I learned a lot.”

The corner of her lip turned upward. “I did too.”

“You learned a lot about your planet today? Here I thought you knew everything,” he said, hoping his humor wasn’t lost through the vocoder.

“Not about Listronus,” Ell replied earnestly, “About you.” For a moment, her blue eyes were drawn away from the visor and moved to his shoulder, where a red flower petal had fallen out from beneath his helmet. She lifted her hand to brush it off and watched it flutter to the balcony’s floor.

“Oh…” he responded lamely.

And then Ell did something that surprised them both.

She kissed him.

A soft brush of her lips against the smooth beskar of his helmet’s cheek. She pulled back just as quickly as she’d initiated it, face flushed the color of a rose, before she cleared her throat, offered a soft “goodnight” and padded briskly into her room, shutting the balcony doors behind her. Whether she or the Mandalorian was left more flustered was debatable, as she’d immediately fled the area and he remained standing on her balcony for several long moments after she’d closed the door, a gloved hand pressed lightly against the spot on his helmet she’d touched.

After a few moments, he collected himself enough to turn his gaze from the doors she’d disappeared behind and back toward the view overlooking the city. Reluctantly, he eased himself back over the balcony’s railing and dropped to the street once again, ready to begin his walk home.

“Goodnight,” he murmured to her front door.

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

If I Die Young

Happy birthday, @followbatb ! This fandom isn’t just made up of writers and artists, it’s also made up of faithful readers like you. I so appreciate you following my stories, and I hope your birthday is fantastic! This story will seem in the beginning like it’s tragic with the title and the whole “major character death” tag, but it’s not what it seems. Just remember the Underworld arc and the whole “mostly dead” thing in The Princess Bride 😉

Summary: Killian reached the edge of the river and sank carefully to his knees beside the bed of reeds and roses he had spent all night weaving together. He deposited his love gently upon it, the soft petals of the middlemist roses seeming to embrace her. He stepped back, pressing his eyes closed in a silent prayer before pushing the precious cargo gently into the water. He clung to the tenuous hope that the rumors were true; that this river fed into the most legendary of waters: the River Styx. A Captain Duckling Enchanted Forest AU in which Killian goes to the Underworld for Emma instead of the other way around. Based on the song by The Band Perry.

Rating: T

Trigger Warnings: Major character is dead (but Killian goes to the Underworld, so . . . )

Words: 2,000 and some change

Also on Ao3 and part of my Fandom Birthday Playlist

Tagging: @kmomof4 @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @thislassishooked @bethacaciakay @teamhook @tiganasummertree @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @kday426 @let-it-raines @shireness-says @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @distant-rose

If I die young, bury me in satin. Lay me down on a bed of roses. Sink me in the river at dawn. Send me away with the words of a love song.

Princess Emma’s arms swung limp against black leather. Her head was flung back at an uncomfortable angle, her long golden hair tumbling like a waterfall. She hadn’t gone completely cold yet, but her face was unnaturally pale, her lips void of color.

Captain Killian Jones, known by most as the fearsome pirate Hook, carried his load with a grim face, a single tear tracking down one cheek. He should have known the Dark One would take this love from him just as he had once taken Milah. He had doomed the princess from the moment they met. He should have stayed far away from her, but he was weak. Weak or his Emma was too stubborn and feisty to take no for an answer. Probably both.

He reached the edge of the river and sank carefully to his knees beside the bed of reeds and roses he had spent all night weaving together. He deposited his love gently upon it, the soft petals of the middlemist roses seeming to embrace her. They seemed fitting. It was a field of middlemist roses where they had shared their first kiss. Ever since, they always made him think of her and the love they shared. She looked exquisite, even in death, her white satin dress giving her the aura of a goddess. He bent and kissed her cold lips, another tear falling upon her cheek as he pulled back. Those weren’t the lips he had come to love; they weren’t warm or pliant or eager.

He stepped back, pressing his eyes closed in a silent prayer before pushing the precious cargo gently into the water. He clung to the tenuous hope that the rumors were true; that this river fed into the most legendary of waters: the River Styx. If not, he would most likely be dead in a matter of days. No one would believe that Emma had not died by his hand. He was a pirate, after all, one with a vicious hook at that. Her body disappearing wouldn’t bode well for him either, nor the secrecy of their romance. He was bound for the gallows if this didn’t work.

He would welcome the gallows if this didn’t work.

The little raft bobbed gently on the water, the current taking it softly as a fog rolled in. Killian was scarcely aware of his feet taking him into the waters, his eyes straining as he waded in, desperate not to lose sight of his love. Yet the fog was unrelenting, and he could no longer see her golden hair or the blush of the roses. Tears coursed down his face now, his chin falling to his chest as his eyes slid closed.

“Come aboard.”

Killian startled, looking up to see a dark hooded figure aboard a small boat. He stood in the bow, extending his bony hand to Killian, yet he could not see the being’s face.

“Come aboard, mortal. The Queen Persephone wants an audience with you.” When Killian still hesitated, the being sighed in irritation. “It is what you seek, is it not? A way to save your love from the Underworld?”

At that, Killian shook off this stupor, and took the sailor’s hand. Charon, he realized, ferryman for the dead. How the craft sailed, he had no idea. It had neither sails nor oars, yet it glided through the misty waters all the same. All concept of time fled Killian’s mind, and before he knew it, they were on a dark and foreboding shore.

Wraiths swooped through the air, and the fog seemed ever present as Killian made his way to the castle not far from the river. Charon had stayed behind, assuring Killian that he needed no guide. The man (being?) had been right. Something intangible seemed to pull him towards the castle, keeping him on the right path.

The castle itself was made of something like obsidian, it’s towers black and sharpened to points. The gate was made of a mixture of charred bones and spikes that resembled black ice. They opened for Killian automatically, and an invisible hand seemed to push him forward.

The floor was ebony marble, polished like glass. The throne room was empty but for the two thrones at the far end. The one on the right was as black and sharp as everything else, the man upon it white as a corpse in contrast. Yet Hades was handsome in a sharp and angular way, his long elegant fingers idly petting one of the large heads of Cerberus, the three headed dog of the Underworld. The imposing creature, as large as a horse and broad as a lion, hummed through one of its frothing jaws, taking obvious pleasure in its master’s ministrations. Yet the other two large heads growled as Killian drew near.

“Calm Cerberus, dear,” the figure on the left said gently.

Queen Persephone, in contrast, was soft and bright in every way. Her skin was tanned, like someone who spent most of her time in the sun. Her hair was a soft brown like earth turned over in the spring. Her eyes were as a bright blue as the sky, her lips and cheeks as rosy as flower petals. Life itself married to death. It was a perplexing picture.

Hades gave a command to Cerberus, and all three heads immediately calmed, resting their chins on the dais. Hades turned to Killian then, steepling his long fingers beneath his chin. Yet when he spoke, he addressed his wife.

“You know they always look back. Why waste your time?”

“Love is never a waste,” Persephone argued. Hades actually smiled then, clasping his wife’s hand and bringing it to his pale lips. Persephone smiled fondly in return, then looked back at Killian. She rose from her throne, made of cherry wood instead of black marble, and stepped down from the dais to approach the pirate.

“I am honored to be in your presence, goddess,” Killian said as he bowed. He didn’t think “majesty” was the right word for a deity, and hoped he had addressed her correctly.

He was relieved when the goddess smiled at him. “I think you just might be different from the others, Killian Jones. A princess and a pirate, a most unlikely pair. Like the god of the dead and the goddess of spring. Most people think my husband tricked me into eating that pomegranate, but I ate it willingly.”

Killian was surprised at the fondness in her eyes. Persephone turned then and snapped her fingers. A young woman in a gown of deep purple and a bronze colored hooded cape hurried to the goddess’s side.

“Guide Captain Jones down the hidden road out of the Underworld.”

“Yes, my queen,” the woman said, bowing low.

Persephone turned to Killian again. “I am sure you have heard the tale of Orpheus.”

Killian bowed once again. “Aye, most honorable Queen, I am not to look back or I will lose my love.”

Persephone gently took Killian’s chin and lifted his gaze to hers. “That is right. Go and do not look back.”

The sad expression on her face wasn’t at all encouraging. Neither was the sinister expression on her husband’s. He had the oddest feeling this was a game to them.

Nevertheless, he followed the hooded woman out of the throne room and out of the castle. She led him past the desolate royal grounds, past the fields full of wraiths and fog, and into a dark and foreboding forest thick with gnarled trees and thorns. Just as they entered the woods, she turned to him and threw back her hood. She had the alabaster complexion and colorless lips of one of the dead, yet her beauty was unfading. Her mahogany hair shimmered despite the darkness, and her chocolate brown eyes swam with both sadness and intensity.

“I am forbidden to assist those I guide, so listen to me carefully now.”

“Who are you?”

Her gaze lowered to the dead leaves at her feet. “One who knows more of love and loss than most can imagine.”

Killian’s eyes widened. “You’re Eurydice, the woman Oprheus loved. The one he almost rescued from death.” She simply nodded, and Killian’s jaw clenched. “How cruel to give you this task!”

She gave him a sad smile. “It wasn’t given to me, I requested it. Perhaps one day love will conquer death, and I wish to be there to see it.”

He clasped her hands in his one. “Thank you.”

“Now,” she said, putting her hood back over her head, “not only can you not look back, neither can you reach back. So keep your hands at your sides. Don’t try and check in any way that she’s there behind you. Also, Hades doesn’t want to let any soul go from his kingdom. Believe nothing you hear, no matter who the voice sounds like. And finally, you can’t look back until both of you are out of the tunnel to the Underworld.”

Killian nodded. He knew the story of Orpheus well, and that had been his mistake. He had stepped out into the land of the living, and thought it would be safe to look back at Eurydice. Sadly, his love had not yet crossed the threshold, and she had disappeared like mist before his eyes. The voices she was warning him not to listen to had to be Emma’s, who else could tempt him to look back? So he filed that away as well. He threw back his shoulders and drew in a steeling breath. He could do this. For Emma.

“I’m ready.”

Eurydice nodded. “I can’t look back either once we begin, so keep your eyes on me and don’t stray from the path. Emma is to keep her eyes on you in the same way, so she is depending on you as well.”

Killian swallowed hard, and sent up a quick prayer to whatever god or goddess would listen and take mercy on them. Eurydice faced forward and plunged into the wood.

Killian quickly learned that it wasn’t just what the voices said. (Are you sure she’s really there? Can you really trust Hades? What about your brother? Doesn’t he deserve to be saved too? Don’t you love him just as much?) It was the pull they had on him, the tugging on his heart to doubt, to fear. It took much more willpower than he had anticipated not to give in to their suggestions to glance back or turn around and go back for his brother. And though he had been prepared for Emma’s voice, he had underestimated how strongly it would affect him. Her pleas sounded so desperate, frightened, and broken. (Help me, Killian! Please! They’re hurting me! I can’t see you! Where are you, Killian?) So afraid was he of losing sight of Eurydice and getting them both lost, his eyes went dry staring at that bronze cloak as she wove between the trees. It was no simple trail, that was clear, and without a guide he and Emma would be hopelessly lost.

Finally yet suddenly, he was in the bright sunshine, just a few miles down the riverbank from where he had watched Emma’s body sink at dawn. The urge to spin around, to see if his love was really there was strong, but he resisted the temptation. It would be just like Hades to trick them. To tell Eurydice to guide him, then go back later for Emma. Instead, Killian went to the edge of the water. It wasn’t the ocean, but the gentle rush of the current calmed him nonetheless. He took in deep breaths as the sun sparkled on the water, praying, waiting.

“Killian,” a familiar voice whispered at his side. The slender fingers of one of her hands wrapped around his bicep, the other closed around his hook. Though it was only cold steel, he swore he could feel the warmth of her hand through it.

He turned to look at her, her bright jade eyes, her pink lips, her rosy freckled cheeks. He choked on a sob as he pulled her close to him, breathing in the familiar cinnamon scent of her hair. He buried his fingers into the soft strands and trailed kisses along her cheeks.

“You’re here, you’re really here,” he choked out.

She laughed as he kissed every available spot on her face; her nose, her chin, her forehead. Then his lips found hers, and the memory of them cold and still fled as she kissed him back with abandon. They kissed until their lips were swollen and they were gasping for breath.

“I love you,” Killian told her, his forehead pressed to hers.

“I love you, too,” Emma whispered back.

In the shadows just beyond the threshold, Eurydice smiled beneath her bronze hood. She watched Killian Jones scoop Princess Emma into his arms, watched the princess wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him with passion and exhilarating happiness. As she turned from the scene to descend back into the cold darkness, she couldn’t wait to tell Queen Persephone that love had finally conquered death.

If I die young bury me in satin. Lay me down in a bed of roses. Sink me in the river at dawn. Send me away with the words of a love song.

#cs ff #enchanted forest au #captain duckling #greek mythology #hades and persephone #eurydice #the underworld #fandom birthday playlist #for followbatb #on her birthday #if i die young

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goodwriterwithbadhabits · 5 years

Text

Midnight Muse

I hope I managed to capture the angst correctly. I really like this.

Masterlist (And don’t forget, requests are still open)

Ever since you were young, only two things had ever been consistent, your art, and the beautiful man in your dreams. Well, he hadn't always been so beautiful and neither had your art, but they both grew with you. Ever since you were a little kid another person had always been in your dreams. You had never heard his voice, but you had watched him grow, watched as he dyed his hair different colors, and tried different styles. During the day, you were simply an art student, but at night the two of you played out strange and beautiful dreams. Sometimes you were a prince and a princess dancing at a ball with unfamiliar music playing in the back, other times you were saving him from a storm in the ocean, but you were always together, whether it be in dream or nightmare.

In the mornings when your alarm broke you from your beautiful revelry, you'd grab the nearest sketchbook and draw whatever he had looked like that night. Your sketchbooks were your life, and in them, the man of your dreams, but somehow, today you had managed to forget one of them in another class.

You ran across the college campus, trying to get back to the pottery classroom before the teacher started questioning your drawings. When you threw open the door, it wasn't the professor that held your book, but your classmate Xu Minghao.

“Excuse me, that's mine.” He looked up from your work, peering at you over the rim of his wire spectacles.

“You drew these?” He inquired, gesturing to the book.

“Yes, can I have it back please, I'm running late.” He obliged, closing the book and setting it in your hand.

“Do you know what you're putting in for the end of the year gallery for your evaluation?” He asked just as you had managed to get one foot outside. You turned back to him where he was nonchalantly examining his nails.

“Not yet, why?”

“Well, we don't have many pieces in the photo-realistic section. You should submit some pieces, I'm sure they'll end up with wall space.” Wall space was coveted, and the photo-realism section was where only top students presented their pieces. You had initially planned to submit one of your landscapes or maybe even an abstract piece but Xu Minghao, literally one of the top artists and co-coordinator of the gallery, was complimenting your photo-realism.

“I- I wouldn't even know which piece.” You stuttered finally, coming back into the room. He motioned for your book, casually flipping through it once you handed it to him. How long had he been looking at your art? He paused at one of the pages.

“This one I like, It has potential. Most of them do.” He offered, handing the book back to you. It was your dream boy, leaning on the ledge of a bridge overlooking the ocean as the sun set behind him. It wasn't done. You hadn't added nearly any color, save for his eyes, and the bridge was completely plain. “Here.” Minghao handed you a piece of paper with his number scrawled on it. “Finish a few of these and send me pictures, I'll see which one's you should submit.”

“Are you sure?” You tucked the number into your sketchbook and hugged it close to your chest. “Why do you care?”

“How do you know the man in your drawings?” He answered your question with one of his own.

“I-I don't” You mumbled.

“You don't? Then how can you draw him so well? The human mind can't make up faces, you must have seen him somewhere.” You looked everywhere but him, not seeing the smirk firmly planted on his lips.

“Its- its weird.” You really didn't want to tell this complete stranger about the dream boy.

“I won't tell anyone, I promise.” He assured you.

“He's from my dreams.” You said after a moment of silence. “I've seen him since we were kids.”

“Ah, okay. Well, text me soon so I can have your number. See you, Y/n” He left you alone in the room, staring after him as he so casually disappeared out the door.

“What, the fuck?” You questioned yourself. ~~

Jeonghan really didn't want to come to Minghao's gallery. All the pieces Hao had submitted he made all the members vote on so he would know their favorites, but for some reason, he was still forcing Jeonghan to go.

“Why am I here again?” He asked the younger man.

“There's something I need to show you,” Hao replied, dragging Han past most of the art towards a specific section.

“I'm not even getting a chance to look at the art,” Han complained.

“Hyung, you don't care about the art, but you'll care about this.” Hao pulled him in front of a series of paintings hanging on the wall.

“Its art.” Han shrugged.

“Hyung, look,” Hao stressed. “Really look at them.” Han huffed, pushing his hair back before looking at the works. He actually gasped out loud when he finally realized what was before him. It was him. He was in every painting, and every painting was one of the dreams. There was one of him on the black horse from when he was only a teenager, there was one of him as a soldier and a prince.

“That’s, that’s me.” He gasped again, pointing at the canvasses.

“Yeah, it is.” Hao nodded excitedly.

“How are they drawing me?” He turned back to the paintings. “And with such detail.”

“She says she's seen you in her dreams. Its destiny. She must be your soul mate.” Hao shook Han's arm with enough force Han thought it might pop out of its socket.

“But what if she isn't the girl from my dreams? That happens sometimes, I'd hate to be one of the exceptions.” Han reasoned.

“If everyone thought that way no one would ever find their soulmates.” Hao practically whined.

“I'm not going to look for her. And you aren't going to do anything about it, understood? Don't tell her you know me, I don't want to know her.” Hao stared up at his older friend in shock.

“You don't want to meet the love of your life?”

“Who said she's the love of my life? I'll decide who the love of my life is, thank you very much.” Han pulled away from Hao, clenching his fists so the younger man couldn't see his hands shake. “Have fun at the after-party Hao, and make sure you call one of us for a ride home. I'll see you later.” Han stormed away, leaving Hao speechless for the first time in a long time.

On the other side of a large vase of flowers, Y/n stood, having seen Jeonghan the moment he had walked in the gallery, and having heard everything. Her soulmate wanted nothing to do with her. Blinking up at the ceiling, Y/n forced back her tears, and with a shaking breath, she plastered on a fake smile and bounded over to Minghao.

“Hao!” She called, tapping him on the shoulder. He automatically beamed.

“Y/n, you look great.” He commented, eyes trailing down the sleek white and silver dress she wore.

“Thank you, and you were so right, I've been getting scouted by art galleries all over, who would have thought a 19-year-old would have been even looked at by the curator of the Louvre.” You gushed, pretending not to have even known Hao had come with a friend.

“The Louvre?” Hao gasped, “That’s amazing.”

“I know, I've actually been offered a place at an art school in Paris.” You seemed so excited, Hao couldn't help but be excited with you.

“Are you going to accept?”

“An all expenses paid, extended vacation in Paris? Why wouldn't I? Maybe my soulmate will be there?” It felt wrong to lie to the person who had quickly become one of your closest friends and little did you know, Minghao felt the same way.

“Maybe! When do you leave?”

“Oh I still have to finalize things, but I'll keep you updated.” You promised.

As you promised, you kept Minghao updated. You met up only a few more times before you moved away, the last time being the day before you flew out. You both tried to remain friends as long as possible, but with his band picking up and your schooling becoming more and more inundating, the friendship seemed to fade away, save for encouraging comments on Instagrams and the obligatory happy birthday wishes.

Five years passed quickly for both of you, you continued to see Jeonghan in your dreams, but you both became distant. Neither of you spoke about your dreams to others, instead pretending as if you simply didn't have soulmates, which wasn't unheard of.

Minghao was almost certain he was never going to see you again, until, one day as he was repacking his bag for the European leg of their tour, he received a text message. A real one, not a message on Instagram like usual.

From: Y/n L/n

Minghao, I know its been a very long time, but I saw that your coming tour dates correspond with the opening of my gallery. Would you and your bandmates like to come to the opening? I can reserve tickets for all of you.

To: Y/n L/n

I'd love to, but let me speak to my brothers and our managers, and I'll let you know for certain.

When the day of the gallery opening arrived, the boys and their managers found themselves outside of a gorgeous building, being prevented from entering.

“We're friends of Y/n's, she said she reserved tickets for us,” Minghao explained as best he could, but the French guard wouldn't budge, instead muttering into his walkie talkie. A moment later, a woman in a crisp suit stepped out from the building and made her way to them. Her dark hair was pulled up into a tight bun, she carried a clipboard, and gave the group a bright red smile as she approached.

“Madame Roxanna, these men claim to know Madame Y/n.”

“Qui, they do. These are her favored guests. Our apologies for the delay, please, this way.”

“Minghao, who is this woman you know?” Seungcheol asked. Minghao just smiled.

The inside of the building was just as beautiful as the outside. The group was led into a room with a large angel statue facing away from them in the center.

“Minghao! You made it.” A woman, draped in a flowing silver dress excused herself from the conversation she was having with some old socialite and floated over to them.

“Y/n?” Minghao gasped. “The pictures don't do you justice.” He complimented.

“You've only gotten more handsome as well.” She clasped his hand, kissing his cheeks in classic French fashion. “And these must be your bandmates, its a pleasure to meet you. I must say I've become quite a fan.” She smiled warmly, making Jeonghan's heart twist as he remembered the last gallery of hers he went to and all the things he had declared. “Please, enjoy the party, have some fun.” She locked eyes with Jeonghan for a split second before returning to Minghao. “Come, I have so much to show you.”

As they walked away the others began to disperse, taking in the paintings, and plates and sculptures that adorned the many rooms of the gallery.

Jeonghan moved slowly through the pieces, admiring the way her brush strokes were evident on her acrylic paintings. Making his way back to the first room, the angel room, he maneuvered around the large statue to see its face, finally understanding why so many people had been staring.

The angel was him.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, but he was sure people were taking pictures.

“This is my favorite piece, “Cupid, the Killer Angel” it took nearly five years to complete.” Jeonghan recognized your voice but continued to look at the statue.

“Why such a heartbreaking name?”

“Because the muse broke my heart.” Jeonghan's heart twisted, and he wondered if she had noticed how distant he had become in their dreams.

“How did he do that?”

“I heard you all those years ago, Jeonghan.” His name sounded so right in her voice, but his heart sank to his stomach at her words. “When you declared you didn't want to know me. When you forced someone as sweet as Minghao to lie to his friend, when you turned your cheek towards fate and became a coward.” Her words dripped both venom and sadness. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure what. She sighed heavily, “And yet, I cannot hate you.” He finally turned to her, finding her staring up her statue, “Had you not said all that, I would never have run away to Paris, and all this,” She gestured to the expanse of the building. “This would have never happened.”

“I'm sure it would have, you're an amazing artist.” She finally looked him in the eyes, eyes she had seen every night for most of her life, and yet they somehow still seemed so foreign.

“But I would have only ever painted you, I wouldn't have created this, or any of the paintings here, because I would have been too busy chasing after the idea that you might have loved me.”

“Y/n.” Jeonghan began.

“Don't, there's no need to lie to me now. After all these years, I know you too well.” She closed her eyes, holding up a hand to stop him. “Enjoy the gallery Jeonghan, then please leave, don't break my heart further.” She dropped her hand, walking away before he had the chance to say anything.

As he watched her make her way to the other end of the room a sudden burst of courage washed over him. He leaped up onto the pedestal that “Cupid” stood on and cleared his throat, wanting to figure out his words.

“Jeonghan, what the hell? Get down from there.” Seungcheol ordered.

“You're right. I was a coward, I am a coward. I was too scared of accidentally breaking your heart, I didn't want to give you a chance.” You spun to face him, as did everyone else in the room. “I never wanted to hurt you and yet I did just that. I made Minghao lie to you, but worst of all, I made you lie to yourself. I made you try to convince yourself that fate was wrong, that I wasn't meant for you, that you aren't meant for me.” He felt a weight lifting off his shoulders even as security officers made their way into the room. “But I was a fool. I am a fool. I am your fool. I will always be your fool, even if you decide never to speak to me again, if you decide to cut all ties, to never sleep again in order to never see me again, I will still be your fool, I will still be in love with you. I tried to pretend I didn't want you, I tried to pretend I wasn't in love with you but I am. Every time I perform a love song, I'm thinking of you, every time I see a happy couple in the street or see soulmates find each other, I wish it was us.” Jeonghan blew out a breath. “What I'm trying to say is, I am so sorry, for breaking your heart, for being a dick, for ruining yours and Hao's friendship. I know saying sorry isn't enough, and it probably doesn't help that I'm standing on a statue of myself. I know this seems like a publicity stunt or a ploy to get you to fall for me, but I swear, on every god out there, that I mean every word I have said.” The room was silent for a few moments as you simply stared at him, making his heart race faster with every passing second. “Please say something, anything, even if its just ordering those officers to arrest me.”

“Jeonghan, I can't just forgive you for five years of utter suffering.” You started, looking off to the side as you thought, “Not in one moment, but if you mean it, you truly mean everything you just said, well.” You finally locked eyes with him, a smile dancing across your lips. “Then I suppose, its a start.”

“I mean it, I do, I would do anything to earn your forgiveness.” He gushed, making you cross your arms over your chest and stare at him.

“Anything?”

“Anything.” He nodded.

“Then get off my damn statue, pabo.”

#yoon jeonghan #Seventeen Jeonghan #jeonghan imagines #Seventeen #soulmates #goodwriterwithbadhabits #request

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