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ultimatetrashyfanfic · 3 years

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I’m just gonna say Non-despair AU cause I want everyone to be happy. I freaking LOVE Gundham so much, he’s wonderful and I’ve been wanting to write him for a while (but stalling cause of his DIALOGUE. It’s so hard). Buuuut I decided to finally give it a shot. And to kind of vent a little cause he used to stress me out in his dark coat and scarf in tropical heat. With Kazuichi because I want them to be friends, and because I seem physically incapable of not putting Kazuichi in every fic. COULD be seen as pre-soudam if you prefer, I didn’t write it like that but it could be if that floats your boat. I do like that ship, I just like other ones with Gundham and kazuichi more. Anyway, hope you enjoy - Circle

Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33543364

Warning: descriptions of overheating, sickfic. Nothing really bad here.

Kazuichi wasn’t shocked to wake up sprawled across a towel with sand in his hair and a dry mouth, completely alone on the beach. This wasn’t even the first time it had happened. When his insomnia was really bad he’d always doze throughout the next day - for some reason he couldn’t sleep in his warm, comfortable bed at night but could drop off in seconds with his head on the breakfast table or against Hajime’s shoulder. His classmates never bothered to wake Kazuichi if he was somewhere he wouldn’t be in the way, so the beach was a frequent napping spot. They always made sure to leave him in the shade with a water bottle for when he woke, so Kazuichi didn’t mind. It was normal.

What was very much not normal was waking up to Gundham grasping the front of his t-shirt, shaking him violently and yelling some weird gibberish that Kazuichi was still too woolly-headed to understand.

“Wha..?” he muttered, trying to wake up properly. For a second he wondered if he was having a weird lucid dream, because Gundham never usually touched people, especially him - though he was shaking him by the shirt instead of the shoulders.

“You’re gonna stretch out my clothes,” Kazuichi whined, sitting up and scrubbing his eyes.

“As if your tattered garments are a priority right now! Answer me with honesty, lest the demons tear your tongue from your very mouth. Have you encountered the wrath of my Crimson Steel Elephant?” Gundham cried, far too loudly.

“What?” Kazuichi mumbled. “Gundham, I can’t decipher your witchy language when I’ve just woken up.”

“Foolish mortal! This is a dire emergency!”

“Why? What’s happened?”

“I shall repeat myself just once more, so listen well. Have you encountered one of my Dark Devas of Destruction? Maga-Z appears to be missing,” Gundham said. Despite the grandeur and fancy words, Kazuichi could see he did look pretty distressed, holding the three remaining hamsters in his hand as if he was scared they’d dash away too.

“Oooh, okay. You’ve lost a hamster. That’s all you had to say, Gundham. One single sentence and I would’ve understood,” Kazuichi said.

“Do not talk so disparagingly! My Devas are far more powerful than mere hamsters. And Maga-Z has an independent spirit and often attempts to cause chaos alone. I have my concerns for the safety of everyone on this island if Maga-Z wields his destructive power without my guidance.”

Gundham was completely serious, but Kazuichi had to bite his cheeks to stop himself laughing, picturing a hamster storming across the island in a tank, decimating everything. But Gundham was clearly frantic, and Kazuichi was trying to be nicer to him recently, so he sighed.

“Okay, I’ll help you look for him. We should try to get the others to help too.”

“Indeed. You were the first mortal I came across,” Gundham admitted.

“Right, what does Maga-Z look like?” Kazuichi asked, taking a long drink of water. He felt like he’d be running around in the hot sun for a while now and wanted to drink while he had the chance.

“Your memory is abysmal.” Gundham seemed irritated that Kazuichi didn’t know the hamsters by sight.

“Look, I’m not exactly on nodding terms with your ham- Devas, am I? How am I supposed to know which is which? I only recognise the chubby one.” Kazuichi pointed to Cham-P.

Gundham reeled back like he’d been slapped, spluttering in outrage. “How dare you mock his corporeal form! If Cham-P was not so patient, he would obliterate you where you stand for such cheek.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to body shame your hamster,” Kazuichi said irritably. “I wasn’t mocking. He’s just bigger than the other ones.”

“He is of the Golden variety, of course he is larger in stature. It has nothing to do with his nutritional intake.”

“Are we going to search or not?” Kazuichi snapped. God, talking to Gundham for more than five minutes was exhausting. “Do you know if Maga-Z has favourite places to go or something?”

Kazuichi let Gundham lead and did his very best not to talk to his strange companion as they searched through bushes and inside cupboards, asking any of his classmates they encountered to look too. Gundham muttered to the remaining hamsters, but didn’t try to talk to Kazuichi much either except to order him around - though his grandiose tone was quickly becoming softer and more anxious.

“Maga-Z has never disappeared from my influence for so long,” he mumbled, pulling his scarf to cover his mouth. “I cannot contain this feeling of dread.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Kazuichi said, surprising himself. “We’ll find him. He’ll be okay.”

Gundham blinked, then stood up straighter. “I assure you, I fear for the inhabitants of the island. Maga-Z will come to no harm.”

But he was worrying, and even Kazuichi could see it. His searching was becoming frantic, his usually careful hands clumsy, so he knocked things off their shelves and forgot to tidy up or close doors behind them. He started running between buildings and bushes, long coat billowing, calling out for his lost hamster.

“Gundham! Hang on a second,” Kazuichi gasped. “I can’t breathe!”

Surprisingly, Gundham did as he was told, leaning against a palm tree in the shade. He wrapped his arms around his chest, pale fists gripping his dark coat. His carefully styled hair was starting to droop in the heat, and his face was very pink. Kazuichi had never seen so much colour in his cheeks before. The three remaining hamsters cowered inside Gundham’s scarf, sensing his anxiety.

Kazuichi went to lean beside him, wiping the sweat off his own forehead. He didn’t know how Gundham managed in his black clothes every day.

“We’ll find him,” Kazuichi said again. “Ibuki and Twogami and Mahiru said they’d look. And Miss Sonia looked like she was going to cry when I told her Maga-Z was missing. She said she wouldn’t rest until he was found.”

“She has a good heart,” Gundham said softly.

“Yeah…” Kazuichi paused. “Hey, you didn’t say anything nice like that about me. I’m the one who’s been running around with you in the baking sun for hours.”

Gundham didn’t respond. He’d been talking a lot less in the past twenty minutes or so, though he’d originally been giving incomprehensible orders to Kazuichi every two minutes. Souda assumed he was just growing more concerned for Maga-Z the longer he was missing - so he was caught off guard when Gundham slumped over and fell limply against him, almost bringing them both to the floor.

“Dude!” Kazuichi managed to catch hold of Gundham. “What are you doing?”

Perhaps Gundham didn’t know what he was doing either, because he had a look of sheer bafflement on his face. He tried to pull himself upright, clinging to the rough bark of the palm tree, but each time he wobbled dangerously and Kazuichi had to grab onto him again.

“What is this..? I appear to be reacting negatively to your mortal world’s atmosphere.” His usually forceful speech came out laboured and slow, and Gundham placed a hand to his lips in surprise.

“What? You’ve been surviving in this atmosphere for ages already,” Kazuichi argued. “What’s up with you? You sound drunk. Can you tell me in plain English?”

“The temperature in this godforsaken land exceeds even the fiery bowels of hell,” Gundham hissed, having to cling to Kazuichi to stay upright.

Kazuichi took a second to disentangle Gundham’s web of fancy words. “Sooo… you’re too hot. I guess that makes sense. Who wears a black coat and a scarf in this heat? And I know you haven’t had any water since we started searching. I’d better take you back to your cabin,” he sighed.

“Unhand me this instant, you fiend!” Gundham growled, though he was the one using Kazuichi like a walking stick. “I could never rest while one of my Dark Devas of Destruction is unguided.”

“Well they’ll all be unguided if you get heatstroke and drop dead,” Kazuichi said. “Half the island is searching for Maga-Z - and I’ll go back out to keep looking as soon as I can, okay?” As much as Gundham might get on Kazuichi’s nerves sometimes, he didn’t want him to get really sick or hurt. He hoped Maga-Z had enough sense not to wander into the sea or something; Gundham would be crushed.

“Hmm.” Gundham didn’t look convinced.

“Your other three ham- I mean Devas probably need to cool down a bit too,” Kazuichi tried.

Another pause. “Very well,” Gundham sighed. “I shall retire to my artificially cooled domain until the effects of this oppressive atmosphere wear off. I trust you to ensure the search continues.” He turned on his heel and tried to walk on his own, staggering alarmingly.

“Hey, careful!” Kazuichi ran to steady him. “I told you I’d help you.”

Gundham slapped his hands away. “Fool! Have you forgotten I am cursed with poison?”

“Oh for God’s sake! Could you just give an inch for once! Why do you make everything so difficult?” Kazuichi cried exasperatedly.

Gundham stuck his chin in the air and started berating Souda again - but before he’d even finished the first sentence his words died away. He blinked several times, looking dazed, swaying where he stood.

“Gundham..?” Kazuichi said nervously.

Gundham didn’t respond. He took another few staggering steps towards his cabin, then crumpled as his knees gave way under him. Kazuichi cried out and hurried to catch him, their foreheads bashing together painfully. Gundham’s skin was clammy and damp, his face looking much more… alive than usual. Kazuichi realised it was because his pale makeup was running.

“Fucking hell, Gundham,” Kazuichi groaned, hauling one of Gundham’s arms around his shoulders. “Just hold onto me, okay? Try not to pass out.”

Surprisingly, Gundham nodded, staring down at his feet like it was taking a huge effort to make them move. It was clear he was trying to be helpful, but Kazuichi had to carry a lot of his weight and they were both breathless by the time they reached Gundham’s cabin. Kazuichi breathed a sigh of relief as the wall of cool air conditioning washed over them.

“Thank God for that,” he mumbled, dumping Gundham onto the bed. It was carefully made, which Kazuichi had never understood; why bother making your bed when you were just going to mess it up every night? The entire room was neat, though the giant cage meant it rather smelled like hamsters. “Right, get your coat and scarf off.”

Gundham glared at him viciously.

“Oh, that’s the thanks I get, is it? Well, no matter how annoying you might be, you’re overheated. No wonder, wearing that stupid dark coat. So get it off.” Kazuichi grabbed Gundham’s arms and yanked the coat sleeves off like he was undressing a sulky toddler. Gundham hissed a series of furious curses at him - one of which sounded like Latin, which was actually pretty impressive - and the three remaining hamsters hopped out onto the bed, startled.

“There. Was that so hard?” Kazuichi said silkily when Gundham was lying on the bed in his shirt and scarf, glaring. Kazuichi tried to take the scarf off too, but Gundham’s hissed threats became more vehement and he gave up. “Fine, keep it on then. Though I don’t think the gothic look is very sustainable in a tropical climate, man. Right, I’m going to get you something to drink.”

Gundham didn’t respond until Kazuichi had returned with a cup full of water from the bathroom. “I shall take advice from one with such abysmal fashion sense as yourself with a grain of salt, fiend,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster while tomato-red and damp with sweat on his bed.

Kazuichi had to fight very hard not to pour the glass of water directly over Gundham’s head, but he just about managed to help him drink it instead. Then he grabbed the little fan from the bathroom and placed it by Gundham’s bed, dampened a cloth and slapped it rather unceremoniously on his forehead. Gundham yelped and glared again, water trickling down his temples. Good. Serves him right for that earlier comment. “There. Keep your head back or you’ll smudge your eyeliner. And don’t move. I’ll try to find Mikan while I’m looking for Maga-Z, okay?”

Gundham turned his face away, cupping one hand over the Devas protectively. He mumbled something into the material of his scarf.

“What?” Kazuichi asked.

“I said I am grateful for your assistance…”

“Oh.” Kazuichi was surprised. He’d never heard Gundham acknowledge he needed any help before - though maybe that was Kazuichi’s own fault. He’d been the one to start up the whole stupid rivalry thing (which wasn’t ever a rivalry in the first place since the girl wasn’t remotely interested). Maybe this was a step towards a reconciliation.

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna leave you to die,” Kazuichi added awkwardly.

“You are far more tolerable when you do not echo the Dark Queen like a parrot. I once believed you had no real mind of your own,” Gundham said bluntly.

Kazuichi flushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You made yourself an extension of the Dark Queen. You never disputed her or challenged her. You agreed with her every word.”

“Well… I wanted her to like me,” Kazuichi mumbled. “Look, you don’t need to lecture me about all this. You know I’ve left Sonia alone.”

“Indeed. But you still wish to befriend her?” Gundham asked. Even weak and overheated as he was, his eyes were burning into Kazuichi’s with such a fierce intensity he had to look away.

“That’s her choice. Why are you asking all this?”

“If you still seek a friendly companionship with the Dark Queen, you should not forget she is a mere powerless mortal,” Gundham said. “She does not wish to be treated like she is extraordinary. She does not wish to be around those who only agree to please her.”

Kazuichi stared at him. Was Gundham really offering advice? Was this a weird way to repay him for helping out? It was pretty embarrassing to be given advice on how to make friends from Gundham, who openly distrusted everyone - but he was friends with Sonia. Maybe even something more, Kazuichi honestly didn’t know. He’d tried to stay away from Sonia as much as possibly, partly because he wanted her to be more comfortable and partly because he was pretty fucking embarrassed by his past behaviour. But he would like to be her friend. Nothing else - he knew that wouldn’t ever happen - but friends was good.

“Now make haste!” Gundham suddenly cried, making Kazuichi jump. “Continue the search! I shall rejoin you as soon as I am able.”

“No, rest. Don’t move and especially don’t put your coat on again. I’ll find Maga-Z,” Kazuichi said quickly. He dashed outside before Gundham could protest, groaning as the sticky heat wrapped around him once more.

He started searching again, after taking a quick detour to Mikan’s cabin to ask if she could go check on Gundham and make sure he hadn’t gone out into the sun again. Almost everyone on the island was searching now, splitting off into little groups to cover more ground. Nagito was one of the last to join in - and Hajime and Kazuichi watched in astonishment as he shifted the very first box he touched in the storage room of the old building and pointed. “There he is.”

“WHY didn’t I ask him first?!” Kazuichi practically screamed.

“Ultimate Luck seems a pretty useful talent,” Hajime murmured to him, not wanting Nagito to hear. It’d only start him off on a long self-deprecating rant. “Go on then, Kazuichi. Get him.”

Kazuichi peered behind the box on his hands and knees. Maga-Z was cowering in the corner, fur dishevelled and standing on end. He didn’t look too friendly. “Why do I have to grab the stupid hamster?” Kazuichi whined. “You grab him, Hajime. I don’t like them. They look like they know too much.”

“What are you on about?” Hajime sighed. “It’s just a hamster. You can’t be scared of a hamster, Kazuichi.”

“They’re Gundham’s hamsters. They probably like… worship the devil or something.”

“Hamsters don’t worship anything. They’re just hamsters.”

“Can I go now?” Nagito asked, looking like he was losing braincells just listening to this conversation.

“Yeah, thanks, Nagito. Unless you fancy grabbing this hamster,” Kazuichi said. He looked hopeful, but Nagito left without another word.

“I’ll do it,” Hajime said, exasperated. He reached behind the box to ease his hand underneath Maga-Z, but as soon as his fingers brushed fur, the hamster made a mad dash forward. Directly towards Souda. He squealed and hastily cupped both hands around Maga-Z, holding him at arm’s length. “Oh my God, oh my God, I got him… Oh God, he’s gonna bite me, I know he is,” Kazuichi whined.

“Hey, good job,” Hajime said, surprised. “I didn’t think you’d catch him.”

“I’m not a baby, Hajime,” Kazuichi huffed. Then he whimpered in a very childish way. “Ugh, he’s wriggling around. Can I… put him somewhere? A bag or something? I don’t trust him.”

“Just shove him in your pocket and let’s go. It’s boiling in here. And Gundham will be stressing about Maga-Z. Do you know where he is?”

“I had to put him to bed because he nearly fainted. He was running around in his black coat all day.”

Hajime rolled his eyes. “Nobody on this island has any self-preservation skills.”

“At least Maga-Z is okay.” Kazuichi studied the little ball of fluff cupped in his hands. Somehow his little ink drop eyes did look menacing. “Hey, he really does look like he wanted to go off and cause chaos on his own, doesn’t he?”

Hajime gave Kazuichi a look. “I think you’ve spent too much time with Gundham today.”

Thankfully, Gundham was still in his room and looking a lot better, though still very visibly agitated. His colour had returned to ghostly pale (he must’ve reapplied his makeup) and his eyes were far more focused - they snapped to the door right away when Hajime opened it. When he saw Kazuichi, his hands still full of wriggling hamster, his brow cleared.

“Take him, quick!” Kazuichi said, hurrying over to the bed. “I’m sure he wants to bite me.”

“You fiend,” Gundham murmured, taking the hamster. For a second Kazuichi was offended, thinking Gundham was calling him names when he and Hajime had been nice enough to bring the hamster back, but then he realised Gundham was talking to Maga-Z. He spoke to them in exactly the same way he spoke to his classmates, no silly mushy voices like most people did with cute animals.

“I can only pray you have not caused too much destruction while unsupervised,” he murmured, smoothing Maga-Z’s fur. The hamster sat up to greet him like a little puppy, and Kazuichi noticed for the first time that Maga-Z’s cheeks were bulging.

“Did he really run off just to steal food?” Kazuichi groaned. “We’ve been so stressed and he was just eating!”

“Ah yes, a feast befitting the magnificent Crimson Steel Elephant,” Gundham said, gently placing Maga-Z with the other hamsters. They circled him joyfully, happy to be reunited too.

Kazuichi threw his hands up exasperatedly. “I give up. You’re all nuts.”

Gundham turned to Kazuichi, his face solemn. “I am deeply indebted to you, as is everybody who resides on this island. I cannot speak of the terrors that may have occurred if Maga-Z was without guidance. I shall spread the story of your triumph to every other mortal here so they can show you due gratitude,” he said.

“Oh… Thanks, man.” Kazuichi could see he meant well, but the thought of Gundham telling everyone Kazuichi saved the island from a hamster’s destruction was pretty embarrassing. He could already see Hajime smirking out of the corner of his eye.

“You should stay inside a bit longer though,” Hajime said. “Just in case. You need to make sure you’re totally cooled down.”

“Indeed. I have had ample excitement for one day,” Gundham said.

“Me too,” Kazuichi mumbled.

“If you’re feeling better, you can tell everyone about Kazuichi saving the island over dinner,” Hajime said, grinning. Kazuichi glared at him.

“Asshole,” he muttered as soon as they were outside Gundham’s cabin.

Hajime burst out laughing. “Maybe he’ll make you sound really gallant and fearless when he tells it.”

“Then everyone will know it’s a lie right away. And anyway, Nagito saw what happened. Even if you don’t give away the real story, he’ll definitely tell.”

“Probably. But you did save his hamster, even if you weren’t that fearless about it. Is there a truce between you two now?”

“I suppose so. He’s not so bad. Crazy and dramatic and difficult… but okay,” Kazuichi admitted. He paused. “I don’t know what half of the words he uses mean though.”

“Yeah,” Hajime agreed. “I don’t either.”

#super danganronpa two #danganronpa 2 #kazuichi souda #gundham tanaka #four dark devas of destruction #overheating #Gundham’s lines were ridiculously hard #mod circle

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honeycobie · 4 years

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Ephemeral

part of the round the world tbz collab held by @ukiyoexo and @juyeonzz

[teaser]

» pairing: sangyeon x reader

» genre: fluff/angst, time travel au, historical au

» word count: 16.2k

» a/n: uh hello...i’m back momentarily to post this fic that i put my blood, sweat and tears into and then i’m gonna disappear again :D i wrote on a google docs first and i wrote 36 pages ;;; yeah, i went overboard. anyways, hope y’all enjoy this! pls don’t flop or else i’ll cry because i spent so much time perfecting it and i’m still doubting my writing skills. goodbye for now (don’t worry, the angst isn’t that sad)!

» disclaimer:�� the characters may be based on real-life historical figures but they are not real and are portrayed as needed for plot purposes. although i have done some extra research on the joseon dynasty, i do not have much knowledge on this topic so please excuse any mistakes on the history/events.

» now playing: i swear i’ll never leave again by keshi

» round the world masterlist please please please check out all the other fics! they are all *chef’s kith*

You step out into the sunshine, smiling brightly as you inhale deeply. “Doesn’t the air smell different here, too?” you ask, your suitcase trailing behind you.

Your friend gives you a weird look. “Yeah, pollution,” she remarks sarcastically, sliding on a pair of sunglasses.

Ignoring her, you tilt your head to admire the bustling city of Seoul and the cloudless, vast sky. The pleasant weather felt like the city was welcoming you warmly with open arms.

“I’m so excited to visit all the tourist spots in Korea!” you exclaim, already running through the mental checklist of things you wanted to do.

“I can’t believe you made me come with you,” she begins, glancing at you grumpily. “I’m sure you could’ve survived on your own.”

“I know you’re looking forward to it too and besides there might be some cute boys around here,” you laugh, nudging her playfully in the ribs as you squint, looking around for any building that might resemble the hotel you were supposed to be staying at.

Your friend can’t help but smile at how enthusiastic you are, her mood brightening after a long flight. “Which hotel did you book?” she asks, slowing down her pace to peer at your phone.

“Four Seasons Hotel,” you respond, showing her the map. “I don’t see it though? It should be this street.” you furrow your eyebrows, confused as you try to navigate through the busy crowd of Seoul.

Groaning, she snatches your phone out of your hands, giving you a pointed look. “You’ve never been good with directions.” she chides, examining the map carefully.

Pouting, you don’t reply, turning your gaze to the towering skyscrapers and buildings of the city, the sunlight glinting off of glass, rendering it so blinding that you had to avert your eyes. The streets and sidewalk were busy, bustling with people and cars with their own destination. You take in another deep breath before your face screws up, feeling a cough rise in your throat, hacking when exhaust from the nearest car hits you.

She was right, it did smell like pollution but there was something about Seoul, the way the city was teeming with life, swarming with both people and vehicles, making it special, different from any other big city. Time seemed to fly fast here, a blink of an eye and hours had already passed but at the same time, it slowed down when you took your time to take in your surroundings, to take a deep breath to ground yourself.

You jolt back into attention when your friend calls your name. “We should’ve made a turn on a street before. I take back my previous statement. You wouldn’t be able to survive here without me.” she grumbled, exasperation written all over her face.

Grinning, you hook your arm through hers, halting in the middle of the sidewalk. “And this is why I love you.” you coo, batting your eyelashes at her.

Shrugging off your arm, she feigns disgust, speeding up her pace so she was well ahead of you. “You can pay me back by treating me to dinner,” she calls, smiling cheekily.

You dash after her, your suitcase bumping wildly on the concrete of the sidewalk.“Wait a minute-” you start to argue with her, trying to negotiate as you know how much she could eat. That girl could eat a whole buffet if she set her mind on it. She just waves you off dismissively, ignoring your pleas as she hums to herself as if you weren’t next to her.

»»————-　　————-««

Letting out a sigh, you shrug off your bag, flopping on the couch in your hotel room after indulging in delicious Korean cuisine. Staring at the ceiling, you shift into a comfortable position, closing your eyes as you were starting to feel sluggish, your limbs heavy and you had to fight to keep your eyes open.

The moment you gave into the insistent pull of sleep, you were promptly interrupted by a pillow pelting your side with a soft thump. Stretching languorously, you sit up, blinking the drowsiness away.

Sitting on the bed across from you, your friend scowls at you. “Don’t we have somewhere to go this evening? I remember you blabbering in my ear the entire time at the restaurant.”

Eyes widening, you sit up, your sleepiness vanishing in a flash. “Right! We’re visiting Gyeongbokgung Palace! It was the main imperial palace of the Joseon Dynasty.”

“You read up on it, huh?” she teases, giving you a cocky smirk.

Gasping, you place a hand on your chest, offended. “I did not! I’m just smart!” you retort. Okay, maybe you did but for the sake of your pride and dignity, a white lie wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Just admit it, nerd.” she scoffs, jabbing you in the side. She knew you too well, seeing through the lie that only served as a flimsy barrier from the truth.

Swatting her hand away, you stick your tongue out. “On that topic, we’ll be following a tour guide so we’ll be in a group with other tourists.” you utter, reclining back, your arms behind your head.

“What the hell? Why can’t we just explore on our own? What’s the fun in following a tour guide when we can be adventurous and spontaneous? It’s a vacation for god’s sake.” she complains, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“Being too adventurous and spontaneous can result in us getting lost. Besides, it’s not like we know our way around Seoul. We’re just tourists too.” you remind her, rolling on your stomach so you could look her in the eye.

"You just had to go in the evening. If we went in broad daylight, I bet we wouldn't get lost. Who would even go for the nighttime viewing?" she whines, burying her face in the duvet.

“It’s only for an hour or so. Just suck it up. Besides, the palace will look even more stunning at night.” you reassure, rolling your eyes at the dramatic display she was putting on.

“Fine. What time is the tour?” she queried, giving up.

“It’s at 8 pm but we can always arrive early,” you state, smiling triumphantly. “It’ll be a good opportunity to take some photos,” you add, knowing that she loves photography,

She perks up the moment you mention photos but she swiftly erases her excitement, replacing it with a facade of indifference. “Whatever.” she huffs, turning her back on you as she scrolls through social media.

You scoff, shaking your head, knowing that you had piqued her interest before standing up, shuffling to the bathroom to start getting ready.

»»————-　　————-««

Passing through the main gate encircling the perimeter of the palace, you slow your pace to admire the architecture. You reach out to cautiously brush your fingertips over the dark crimson doors, marvelling at how gigantic they are.

You refrain from peeking through the arched entrance as you wanted to see the grandeur of the palace when you arrived at the foot of the steps. Brushing your hand against the rough granite of the foundation, you try to picture the king and royal officials passing through the gate.

For some reason, you were holding your breath as you passed through the archway. Your gaze drifting upwards, your jaw drops at the sight of the palace in front of you as you take in the sheer beauty of it. Although you had seen pictures of the palace online, it barely did it justice as it looked even more majestic in real life.

A wide, paved path leads up to the stairs towards the palace and you notice the elegantly sloped roofs and intricate details with lotus flowers and characters carved into the wood. The use of vibrant green and red draws your eyes and although you would expect the colours to clash, they complement each other, creating a strangely soothing effect.

The evening sky adds to the etherealness of it all, the full moon glowing, shining on the path as a crisp breeze lifts your hair, stirring it into motion.

Your friend strolls beside you, equally in awe, her eyes sparkling with amazement as she examines the palace. "Where are we waiting for the tourist group?" she questions, both hands gripping tightly on the straps of her backpack.

You suppress a sigh at the scornful tone of her voice, bitterness dripping as she purposefully put emphasis on the two words, “tourist group”.

“Just at the entrance of the palace,” you reply, leafing through the pamphlet that was handed out amongst the crowd that mingled around the gate.

There was a map on the back of the brochure and your eyes sparkled as you examined it. It could give you the opportunity to slip away and admire the palace as long as you desired without fearing that you'd get lost.

You and your friend look around for the tour guide, scanning the crowd for any sight of someone who might resemble one. Spotting the tour guide carrying a sign with the name of the company, you nudge your friend before dragging her towards the group.

Huffing, she hefts her camera, adjusting the strap. You smile giddily to yourself, skipping like a child and you banished all the negative thoughts, allowing yourself to lower your guard, to forget that you were a mere tourist travelling in a foreign city with unknown dangers. Nothing could go wrong, right?

Of course everything had to go completely wrong.

»»————-　　————-««

First, you had bumped into a fellow tourist, causing you to fall gracelessly, landing on your backside, the pamphlet fluttering into a puddle of murky water as you hastily apologized.

To your utter dismay, the ink started to fade, washed away from the water and rendered the map useless. You could hardly interpret it so you didn't bother to pick it up. You ignored your friend's snickering as you accepted her helping hand.

Well, time to say goodbye to your plans to explore on your own.

As if pushing your luck, you were now lost. You fought down the rising panic and racked your brain, trying to come up with solutions. Even worse, your phone was dead. You swore fate hated you, always wanting to tamper with your plans.

You squeezed through the crowd, aiming for the gaps in between to slip through, squeaking out an apology when you accidentally step on someone's foot. Squinting, you peer for any sight of your friend as you hold your bag nervously, hands squeezing the strap.

You stop at the end of the hallway, eyes shifting from the different corridors that open up from the end of it. You rock back and forth on the balls of your feet as you contemplate, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Left or right?

As if answering your question, the corridor to your right glowed brighter underneath the moonlight and you gaped, rubbing at your eyes, convinced that you were seeing things. You blinked a couple of times but it only seemed to make the walls of the corridor brighten, washing the walls in shimmering tones of silver and pewter. Despite your instincts screaming at you to walk down the corridor, you were reluctant, feeling foolish to follow your gut instincts and making a decision based on it when you ought to have analyzed thoroughly. Shrugging, you started down the path, eyes drifting on the walls, reaching out to aimlessly drag your fingers against the wall, rough plaster and concrete scraping against skin as you marvel at how it practically shines underneath the moon.

Too busy admiring the architecture, you don’t notice the steps a few steps away until your foot comes in contact with space where the floor should’ve been. Eyes widening, you find yourself tripping, letting out a gasp into the silence as you screw your eyes shut.

Red floods your vision as the pain comes. It was worse than any other injury, sharp aches throbbing in your skull as you hit your head against the concrete. You open your eyes, attempting to sit up but stop as your vision starts to swim, black dots invading your vision as your head sways, only intensifying the pain. You hiss, closing your eyes and slowly counting to ten, trying to tamp down the panic and bile that rose in your throat.

It’s no use, the panic rising and swallowing you whole as you feel your consciousness fading. The last thing you remember is the blurry visage of the corridor brightening, causing you to squint to shield your eyes.

»»————-　　————-««

Regaining consciousness, you sit up quickly, regretting it as your vision swims, blurring everything momentarily. You close your eyes, grimacing when a dull ache throbs in the back of your head.

Right...you had lost footing and missed several steps, slamming your head on the concrete. You sigh as the memory surfaces and you press your hand against your hand gently, screwing your face up when it feels tender and sore to the touch.

Eyes fluttering open, you're met with an unfamiliar room. Your brow furrowing, you observe your surroundings with keen eyes.

The room was fashioned from dark oak, with sliding doors made from white paper, sheer enough to see shadows moving from outside, but still providing enough privacy. Candles flickered jovially on the low tables and judging from the absence of natural light, you guessed that it was currently nighttime. Looking down, your eyes travelled the length of the pallet you were sitting on, noting the intricate embroideries curving through it. You reached out and gingerly ran your fingers against it. Judging from the material and the delicate ornamentations, it was probably very expensive.

“My lady…you’re awake!”

A rejoiced voice grabs your attention and you turn slowly to meet the owner of it. A girl, around your age kneels at your bed and sets down the bucket of water, dousing a clean cloth in it. You blink in confusion, realizing that she was wearing a hanbok, the traditional clothing of historical Korea. You exhaled softly, tense shoulders relaxing as you inferred that you were in one of the residences near the palace, where you were able to rent a hanbok and experience how ancient Korea used to be. The girl gently wipes the wound on the back of your head before undoing the gauzes, replacing it with new ones.

“My lady, you mustn’t be so reckless while riding a horse.” she scolds lightly, shaking her head.

“E-excuse me?”

You didn’t remember anything about a horse. Momentarily, you wondered why the girl was being so formal with you before your thoughts started to wander. Toning out the girl’s rambling, you stared emptily at the nearest candle, flickering and jumping like it had a life of its own.

Catching a section of her sentence, you come back to your senses. “Could you repeat that, please?”

“Arranged marriage with the eldest son of King Sejong?” she repeats, brow creasing in concern. “Are you alright, my lady?”

“King Sejong?” you laughed hysterically, convinced that you had hit your head so hard that you were seeing and hearing things. “What is this? Joseon Dynasty?”

“Precisely, my lady.” she responded, concern creeping onto her features.

“You’re awfully good at acting. Hollywood should recruit you.” you mumble, flopping back on the pallet with a groan, eyes tracing the wooden arches and pattern of the ceiling.

“Hollywood..? I don’t think I understand, my lady.”

Sighing, you sit back up, eyes heavy with fatigue. You were tired of arguing with her so you decided to play along. “Ok then, where am I right now?”

“It is 1437 in Joseon, during the reign of King Sejong.”

You scoffed, disbelief written all over your face. “There’s no way.” Regardless, you stumble to your feet, ignoring the girl’s feeble attempt at stopping you. Stopping in front of the window, you eye the wooden shades before unlatching them.

Expecting the soaring skyscrapers and buildings as well as milling groups of tourists and busy traffic in the streets, your heart almost stops when you see a rustic village, with people leading around horses, resembling nothing of Seoul. Seoul was a city of metal and glass, of advanced technology and modern inventions, yet here, the midnight sky was clear of dust and smoke and you swore you could see every star in the Milky Way.

Stout buildings made up this village, mainly made of wood and brick and the well-trodden dirt path was dimly lit by torches. It was quiet outside, with few people still wandering the streets, you assumed they were all inside, based on the amount of well-lit houses. Gradually, you realized that they were all wearing the traditional garment of historical Korea and although you frantically surveyed the landscape, your eyes scanning every single nook and cranny of the town, everything still remained unfamiliar and foreign.

Leaning forward, you feel the wind whisper its secrets in your ear. “There’s no way.” you whisper to yourself, dragging a hand down your face as you shut your eyes, hoping that this strange world would disappear, replaced by the comforting familiarity of Seoul.

It was not possible to travel back in time...right?

»»————-　　————-««

Numbly, you sit and let Eun-ji, the girl who was apparently your handmaiden, brush your hair. The wooden brush was methodically soothing against your scalp, but did nothing for your frazzled nerves. From listening to Eun-ji, you were Lady (Y/n), supposedly the daughter of a noble family in the Joseon Dynasty, about 6 centuries before your time.

Blankly, you stare at the wall in front of you. As the only daughter of the family, you were supposed to be married off to a rich man to improve your family’s reputation and financial standing, proving how corrupt society was.

However, your husband-to-be was the crown prince, which was a rare occurrence. You supposed that you were lucky, but you suspected that the prince was just another posh and spoiled jerk who was accustomed to the leisurely and luxurious ways of life.

“Say...I can’t avoid the wedding right?” you chirp with false positivity, dislodging the brush from your hair as you turn around to stare at Eun-ji with hopeful eyes.

“A-absolutely not! My lady, this is unavoidable! Your father already agreed and gave out the dowry.” she stuttered, appalled at your question.

“Besides, you’re lucky to marry the crown prince! He’s really handsome, courageous and respectful. I heard a servant girl once fainted after seeing him smile at her.” Eun-ji gossips dreamily, clasping her hands together.

You shook your head. Of course the crown prince would act like that in public. How else would he work his propaganda and trick everyone into supporting him? You drift off, toning out the girl’s wistful fantasizing, anxious over the fact that you had travelled back in time, which shouldn’t be physically possible. With basically no experience or knowledge on the Joseon Dynasty, you doubted you’d be able to survive a second without getting tricked or lured into danger. Tuning back into the one-sided conversation, you manage to catch the last bit of Eun-ji’s sentence.

“...travelling to the imperial palace tomorrow.”

Travelling to where now?

“Everyone is so busy preparing tomorrow’s trip. We’re so excited that you’re getting married! And to royalty at that! Don’t worry, my lady, I’ll be accompanying you!” she declares, grinning sunnily at you, either purposely ignoring your apparent concern or she just didn’t notice.

You reluctantly recline back in your seat, shoulders screaming with how tense your muscles were, allowing Eun-ji to continue to brush and detangle your hair, trying to digest all the information your poor brain was just told. You wouldn’t be surprised if a war started next morning, with how bad your luck currently was.

Closing your eyes, you channel all your strength into resisting the urge to punch a wall and let out a string of curses. Not only was it deemed un-ladylike, possibly earning you the disappointment of your parents, it could potentially draw suspicion and unwanted attention.

All you could do for now was to go along with flow and figure out an escape later, when you had milked all the answers and surprises out of Joseon.

»»————-　　————-««

You throw the windows open, frowning when you are met with the sight of ominous gray clouds gathering. It was as if the heavens themselves knew there was something wrong. You squint, trying to find any hint of the sun hidden behind the clouds, but to your dismay, it was dark and dismal, reflecting your mood.

You wave away the maid hovering nearby, silently commanding her to give you some personal space. The moment you hear her light steps recede, you slouch, pulling a face. Today was the day you would be entering the palace, and a couple of days later, your marriage into the imperial family.

You swallow thickly, gripping the material of your night robes nervously. You eyed the distance down from the window, wondering if you could jump down without breaking an ankle and run away from all your problems. Before you could seriously contemplate it, footsteps alert you of another’s presence and you hurriedly straighten your back, pulling your shoulders back into what you hoped was a confident and elegant poise.

You turn around, meeting the gaze of your supposed mother. Although you felt uneasy addressing her as such, you felt comfort knowing that there was an older figure who could guide you and give advice.

“How are you feeling?” she asks quietly, standing close enough for her arm to brush against yours. You stiffen, making sure to give off an air of confidence. “I am feeling fine. After all, it is my job to bring honour to our family.” you replied, flashing a smile that weakens when she doesn’t return it, instead staring back at you with wise eyes.

“(Y/n).”

You tense, before giving a smile so forced, it felt like your lips were stretched too far. “Don’t worry, mother.” The word “mother” felt bitter on your tongue. It felt wrong to address this woman as your mother, even if she had similar qualities to your mom in your time.

The woman hesitated slightly before nodding curtly. “Then, you should start getting prepared.” She turned away, gesturing to the servants who were waiting with countless trays of jewelry and garments as well as combs and cosmetic products.

Your mother’s trusted lady-in-waiting approaches you, an older woman with graying hair at her temples and lines around her eyes, tilting your chin up, frowning at your eye bags and dark circles. You offer a meek smile when she tsks, barking out orders to the waiting servants. They hustle around you, reminding you of bees buzzing busily around a blooming flower. Several girls work silently on coaxing your hair into an intricate updo while the rest observe your face and prepare the clothes and accessories.

You sneeze when the lady-in-waiting pats powder on your face, earning another disapproving look. You slouch, letting them do whatever they want. The moment your hair and features are perfectly done, you’re dragged behind a screen as they strip you, folding your night robes neatly as they work to squeeze you into a lovely garment, shimmering silk of vivid amber and vermillion, plain yet exquisite, seen from the expertly sewn hems and edges and the gorgeous material.

Squeaking, you straighten hurriedly as the lady-in-waiting tugs sharply on the ribbon, tying it into a delicate bow at the back. A mirror is thrust into your face and you hesitate slightly before taking it. Gasping, you peer at your reflection. You hardly recognized yourself, exuding an air of grace and elegance, your hair swept up as your features were flawlessly accentuated and the bold colours of your clothing brought out the life in your eyes and the ruby-red of your lips. You stare at your reflection, not missing the lady-in-waiting’s smug smirk as she dabs rose water on the sides of your neck.

They push you out the doors of your chamber and you stumble unceremoniously before regaining your balance. Outside, your mother awaits you, tears filling her pretty eyes as she takes you in, pride and affection lighting up her face. Stepping forward, she grabs your hands, tears slowly falling down and automatically, you brush them off with feather-light touches.

“Are you ready?” she whispers, squeezing your hands. Your features soften when you notice the genuine concern in her eyes. You nod, smiling tenderly. Your father approaches you, a heavy hand falling on your shoulder. Although he seems indifferent, you can decipher love and satisfaction in his midnight-black eyes. Awkwardly, he pulls you into an embrace and you choke back a laugh, tears filling your own eyes. Even if they weren’t your parents, past (Y/n) was lucky to have them.

“Bring honour to our family, (Y/n).” His thunderous voice rumbles through you and you sense the vulnerability in his tone before he pulls away, the proud smile on his face making your heart soar.

Raising your chin, you match his smile with yours. “I will.”

»»————-　　————-««

You wait in the palanquin, your hands clenching the exquisite silk of your garment anxiously. Hearing giggling, you lift the screen obscuring the small window to your right, peering out into the sunshine.

"Do you think she'll survive in the palace?"

"I know she's not going to. Have you seen her? I bet she can’t even last a few days in the palace without embarrassing herself.” The taller girl sneers, lips curling in contempt.

You watch as the girls titter elegantly behind their fans, your anger simmering as your grasp tightens, knuckles whitening. Lifting your chin proudly, you vow to prove them wrong.

»»————-　　————-««

“Are you not excited to see your bride-to-be, Sangyeon?”

The crown prince turns to see his brother smirking slyly at him, his gaze implying. “Don’t be immature, Sejo,” he replied rigidly, fixing his gaze on the horizon, jaw tense.

“I heard she’s quite a pretty thing. I wouldn’t mind having her by my side.” Sejo continues, inspecting the scenery nonchalantly.

“Stop referring to her like she’s a plaything. Besides, you know there’s still Hwi-bin.” Sangyeon sighs, not even looking at his brother as he adjusts his robes carefully, palms smoothing over the navy silk and the slight scratchiness of the gold embroidered on it.

Sejo rolls his eyes at the mention of Hwi-bin. “There are plenty of gorgeous and noblewomen clamouring to be with you, yet you’re still captivated by her.”

“I am not you. I am interested in having a stable and mutually loving relationship. After all, I am not the one going to pleasure houses in Hanseong.” Sangyeon retorts, and although he sounds aggravated, his eyes twinkle with amusement.

A chuckle escapes from him when he hears Sejo mutter "boring" underneath his breath.

In response, his brother scoffs but a smile plays on his lips. Turning his gaze to observe the scenery, he becomes solemn, the smile disappearing. “You’re going to have to break things off with Hwi-bin, brother.”

At the change of topic, Sangyeon groans, throwing back his head. "It's not as easy as it sounds."

"You're going to have to do it, for the future of our country." Sejo reprimanded, uncharacteristically serious, unsettling the prince.

“Now you’re starting to sound like father,” Sangyeon grumbled, massaging his temples with his fingers. Lately, he hadn’t been able to sleep well, evident by the dark circles under his eyes and his sunken cheeks. The lack of sleep clearly didn’t do wonders for the recurring migraines he had everyday, and all he wanted was to get the marriage over with, if only to stop his parents’ nagging.

Sejo sighed dramatically, already opening his mouth to yap away but Sangyeon turned away, squinting into the horizon, seeing a palanquin in the distance, the tiny tassels dancing as the platform swayed rhythmically, the family crest held up proudly.

Squaring his shoulders, he inhaled sharply before vaulting himself on the horse, who nickered softly in greeting as the male stroked its nose. “They’re here.”

»»————-　　————-««

Hearing the door slide open, you turn around, seeing Sangyeon in the doorway.

You bow deeply, averting your gaze respectfully. Only when he acknowledges your presence do you straighten, the silk of your hanbok rustling softly. The journey here was nothing remarkable, and although you thought the riches of your home was extravagant enough, the furniture of the imperial palace was outrageously lavish, your home paling in comparison. You inch away from the jade vase you were gaping at previously, terrified of shattering it.

"What are you here for, Your Excellency?" you ask politely, your gaze settling on him.

"My father has commanded me to show you around Hanseong. He hopes for you to see the glory and learn the ways of the imperial city." the crown prince states, his voice void of any emotion as he studies you, his eyes narrowed slightly.

Hesitating, you nod, giving him a tiny smile. "I would love to."

"I shall call for a palanquin then," Sangyeon responds and although he turns away, you can see the flash of distaste on his face. When he steps towards the exit to leave, you call out, causing him to stop.

What is it, Lady (Y/n)?" he turns around, raising an eyebrow.

You wince at the way he addresses you so formally. Although it served as a form of respect, it felt foreign and it made him feel even more distant.

"Is it alright if we could go by horse?" you dare to ask, anticipating his answer. After suffering through the whole journey to the imperial palace in such a suffocating space, you were determined to never experience it again.

When you notice the blank look on his face, you shake your head quickly. "Pretend I didn't say anything, Your Excellency." you hastily add, lowering your gaze.

Sangyeon's lips part slightly as he considers. He has to admit; he was pleasantly shocked by your request. Many distinguished ladies such as yourself were quite comfortable inside a palanquin, shielded from the world and its dangers.

He preferred experiencing things first-hand, on the back of a horse, racing through golden fields of wheat and feeling the wind tousle his hair. It provided a sense of freedom before he returned to the restraining imperial palace. Sangyeon hated travelling in a palanquin as it reminded him of his royal status and how it prompted others to treat him differently.

"Of course. We will leave at dusk then," he says stiffly, before proceeding to leave, the dark lacquered floorboards creaking slightly under his footsteps. Raising your head, you watch his figure disappear from your sight, a relieved sigh escaping your lips.

Unbeknownst to you, his lips curl into a small smile.

Perhaps you weren't as dreadful as he thought.

»»————-　　————-««

Just as planned, you found Sangyeon waiting with two horses outside the gate, his sharp jawline accentuated by the coral rays of the setting sun. He didn’t notice you, his eyes trained on something you couldn’t see. Slowing your pace, you drag your feet in the soft mud, wondering if it was a mistake to refuse the offer of a palanquin. After all, you weren’t well accustomed with horses. You envisioned yourself falling off the horse mid-journey and shuddered, not eager to have a repeat of an incident. Clenching your jaw in determination, you told yourself that you were doing this to prove to the prince that you were different. Marching towards him briskly, you greeted him with a bow, with which he acknowledged stiffly.

Sangyeon chuckled softly, seeing you stare doubtfully at the horse, offering his hand which you gratefully accepted. Hoisting you onto your stead, you struggled to regain balance for a few seconds, your heart hammering against your ribs. As if sensing your uncertainty, the horse snorts, tossing its head and you yelp, gripping the reins tightly, only causing the horse to angrily neigh, becoming even more restless.

“Relax, you’re only throwing the horse off.” he utters, seating himself on his stead with an easy air that came with constant practice.

“I know that.” you shoot back, daring a glance at the prince. Sangyeon seems surprised at first, eyebrows arched in question, then laughing heartily, startling you. It was the first time you had seen him expressing mirth, instead of his usual intimidating stoic expression.

Before you can ride off, a shout is heard from behind you. Turning around in the saddle, you notice a guard dashing towards you, sweat matting his hair. “Your Excellency, you can’t just run off like that. Your Majesty has assigned me to assist you and Lady (Y/n).”

Sangyeon waves him off dismissively. “We don’t need a guard. But if it comes to it, I can protect us both.” At that, he pulls back his robe, revealing a lethal-looking dagger sheathed at his hip.

The guard opens his mouth, attempting to protest but Sangyeon gives him a stern look. “That’s an order.” You watch on quietly as the guard sullenly walks back at the prince’s words. Sangyeon turns his horse back around with a slight tug of the reins. “Let’s get going. It’s ideal to be back before nightfall.”

You nod, tugging lightly on your reins. “Try to keep up.” he snickers, displaying an uncharacteristically playful and teasing side. You gasp, offended. Sure, you didn’t have much experience with horses, especially compared to him but you were certain you’d be able to pick it up quickly.

“I am fully capable of keeping up, Your Excellency” you retorted, your pride stinging slightly.

“We’ll see.” Sangyeon gives you a boyish smirk as he nudges at his horse’s flanks, settling into a steady pace.

»»————-　　————-««

It’s quiet in the forest and you are aware of the tense silence that hangs between you and Sangyeon. Clearing your throat, you start to think of conversation starters, desperate to try and befriend the prince. It would be better to make friends and allies instead of foes. Before you can speak, Sangeon beats you to it.

“Just so you know, the marriage is tomorrow.”

You gape, clenching the reins so hard, your stead whinnies in protest. Relaxing your grip in apology, you turn to face Sangyeon. “So soon?”

He nods, clearly dissatisfied. “It’s always best to marry young and my father is convinced it will help establish my power to prevent a coup d'état.”

You don’t respond, your body swaying to the rhythmic trotting of the horse.

“You might not be aware, but I…” Sangyeon hesitates, struggling to find the correct words. You watch him curiously, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I already have a lover.” he continues, “unfortunately, you will not be getting the marriage you dreamed of, Lady (Y/n).”

You secretly celebrate in your mind, glad that the male felt the same way. Being forced into an arranged marriage to establish power and reputation was not something you had thought would happen anytime, yet it had happened anyway. You had miserably hoped that this feeling wasn’t one-sided and it seemed like the gods granted you this wish.

“First of all, please drop the formalities. Just call me (Y/n).” you instruct, and amused, Sangyeon agrees and requests of you to do the same. If you were to be stuck in a marriage with him, you might as well seek out more information and become good friends.

“Second, you don’t need to worry. I’m not exactly pleased to be in an arranged marriage, even if it’s with royalty, so I don’t care if you have another lover.” you laugh, and Sangyeon’s worry melts away, replaced by an easy smile.

“Thank god.” he mutters under his breath, clearly relieved. For some reason, you find it hilarious, bursting into uncontrollable laughter which he eventually joins in. With tears in your eyes, you catch your breath before getting thrown into another bout of laughter by his little dance of victory. Calming down, you turn to Sangyeon who was smiling brightly, admiring the way the dying sunlight reflected on his hair and danced in his eyes. He looked lively and carefree, with his rosy cheeks and tousled hair and you were sure you would’ve fallen in love with him if you had met him in your time. Alas, it was the wrong person and wrong time.

“How about this?” you speak up, and he perks up at your question, eager to please.

“I think we should be friends.” you beam at him, experiencing the most joy and freedom since arriving in Joseon. Screw arranged marriages, no one should get to decide who you marry and who you don’t!

Sangyeon tilts his head, pretending to contemplate your offer before nudging his horse in your direction, pulling closer to you. Reaching out, he extends his hand, eyes twinkling with mischief and mirth.

Grinning, you accept it, shaking hands firmly. “Deal.”

»»————-　　————-««

A day later, you sit on the bed, itching to take off all the silk garments that were bound tightly against your body, suffocating you. The marriage flew by in a blur and all you could remember was watching Sangyeon ascend the steps, his regal face solemn and void of any emotion. When his gaze had connected with yours, his lips had quirked up slightly, as if reassuring you that it would be alright, before masked with seriousness once again.

Shaking your head, laughter bubbles out your throat. Out of all the things you thought would happen in the past, getting married wasn’t anywhere in the list. At least, you could boast that you had gotten married first out of all your friends, although you doubted they would believe you.

Humming softly, you listened to the sound of the night; cicadas and crickets chirping and you could hear the distant sound of a bubbling creek. Nothing like the busy city of present-day Seoul, you mused. While fiddling with your fingers, nature’s melodies lull you into a sense of peace and you sigh softly, too much time on your hands. Then, it struck you. It was the wedding night.

Disgusted, you banished the horrifying thoughts before you looked around for something to defend yourself with, just in case. Silver blades gleam in the candlelight and you catch a glimpse of your scowling face as you reach out to grab the scissors. Although Sangyeon didn’t seem like it, if he tried to take advantage of you, he’d have multiple nasty stab wounds that you hoped to avoid inflicting.

Speak of the devil.

The doors slide open, revealing Sangyeon, his cheeks flushed pink from the cold air, as well as a few drinks, you suspected. You watch him warily, like a lioness stalking its prey. He shrugs off the ceremonial robes, revealing the plain garment underneath. Finishing, he turns towards you, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to sleep like that?” he questions, gesturing to the extravagant wedding hanbok.

Smoothing over the creases in the silk, you trace the embroidered peonies on the crimson material. You shake your head, wincing when you feel the heavy headpiece shift, yanking at your hair. Although it was gorgeous, the material was restricting and weighted, with a ridiculous amount of layers, hindering your movements. Standing, you silently untie the bow, letting the silk pool around your waist as you work to take off the headpiece and release your hair from its torture. Sangyeon takes it and carefully places it on the table as you fold the ceremonial garment neatly, leaving it next to the ornamental headpiece.

Standing in your night robe, you and Sangyeon stare at each other, his gaze flicking down to the scissors in your hand and understanding floods his face. When you don’t move, he sits on the pallet before reclining back. “I’m not going to do anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Sangyeon says softly, eyes trained on your face.

When you relax, he grins, the atmosphere becoming more light-hearted. “Do I really seem like that type of person?” he continues, scrunching his nose as he gave you a look of mock hurt that you ignored.

You place down the scissors before gracelessly flopping on the bed, jostling Sangyeon, causing him to yelp. You close your eyes, fatigue overcoming you. “Goodnight” you mumble, yawning widely as you turn on your side, making sure to keep a safe distance.

When he doesn’t respond, you shift to face him, stifling laughter when you realize that he was already fast asleep, mouth ajar, chest rising and falling steadily. You watch him sleep for a while, his face serene and almost angelic before turning back on your side, closing your eyes.

Mumbling in his sleep, he throws an arm over your waist and you freeze, before gingerly lifting his arm off, uncomfortable with such displays of physical affection. Closing your eyes, you’re overcome with a sudden nostalgia and longing for your present time and you sigh, praying that you would be able to return before your eyelids droop, slowly drifting off to dreamland.

»»————-　　————-««

Over several days, you and Sangyeon have gotten to know each other well, thanks to late night conversations and going on adventures to escape the controlling grip of the imperial palace, where you felt like you couldn’t even breathe without a judging glance thrown your way.

You would be lying if you didn’t find Sangyeon attractive. With his easy smile and the confident aura that he practically radiated, you cursed the gods for not creating such gorgeous men in your time. However, things have changed between you and him. Lately, you had caught him sneaking furtive glances at you and you had to admit that you had been doing the same, although you were sure you were more subtle.

Last night, you and Sangyeon had laid together in the darkness, limbs tangled in the sheets, but no one made an effort to detangle themself from the material. Tentatively, you tested the waters and leaned against his arm. As expected, he slipped the arm out but to your surprise, he repositioned it around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his body.

“You awake?”

You had whispered into the quietness of the room and he had hummed in response. In the shadows of the room, you barely saw him shift. “Is something wrong?” He had lowered his voice to match yours, as if sharing a sacred secret.

You shook your head, but quickly realized he probably couldn’t see you. “I can’t sleep, that’s all.” You had felt his laughter, the vibration rumbling through his chest and travelling down to your bones. “What a coincidence, I can’t either.”

You thought for a while before asking him to tell you more about himself. Although you had spent the days getting to know each other, it was one-sided. Him, nodding and listening intently while you had blabbered about yourself and any entertaining story you could think of, leaving out the important detail about coming from the future. Compiling, Sangyeon had then started telling stories about his childhood and his daily life.

Delighted, you had curled up in a ball, feeling drowsy as he continued to speak, his soothing voice lulling you to sleep. Sensing your tiredness from your lack of response, he stops abruptly and when you blearily ask him why he stopped, he doesn’t respond, instead beginning to sing the rich melody of an unfamiliar song and your eyes widen momentarily in amazement, before fluttering close. Sangyeon’s voice was mellifluous, warm and honeyed, reminding you of a pleasant spring day, warm sunshine filtering through a canopy of trees while birds sang their individual melodies, yet still harmonizing to create a beautiful orchestration.

Before you succumb to the enticing pull of sleep, Sangyeon wishes you a good sleep and for a second, your muddled brain ponders if you imagined the feeling of his lips against your forehead.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the door sliding open until footsteps jolt you into attention. Looking up, you lock eyes with Hwi-bin, Sangyeon’s first love.

Your eyes rove over her features and you can’t help but feel envious. You could tell why Sangyeon loved her so intensely. Big, doe eyes, flawless skin, plush rosebud-like lips and long, silky hair. Hwi-bin was so beautiful that she was practically a goddess and you were convinced that if she was in your time, she’d have all the boys clamouring for her attention.

As she greeted you, you panicked, opening your mouth as the gears in your head furiously functioned, trying to patch together words. Hwi-bin giggled at your flustered display before grabbing your hands, passion and urgency burning in the deep pools of her eyes.

“My lady, I am here to talk about the crown prince.”

You gulp involuntarily, your mind still a jumbled mess. “L-listen-”

Before you can piece together your sentence, she interrupts you. “I just want to know if you love him or not. I’ll understand if you say you do, and I promise I won’t interfere with your marriage.”

Frantically, you shake your head. “I don’t love him, I swear.” Jealousy was a poison, dangerous enough to taint the hearts of even the most innocent or kind people. You knew from experience and you hoped Hwi-bin wasn’t like the crazy female characters in kdramas vowing for revenge.

Noticeably relieved, she lets go of your hands, gratitude shining in her eyes. “I’m glad, then.” Hwi-bin turns away and leaves with an apologetic smile, saying that she was busy, although she regretted not being able to gossip with you. You nod, already staring off in a distance, unfocused, gradually losing yourself in the lucid world of your imagination.

If you had cared to look closely, you would’ve seen the malevolent smirk on Hwi-bin’s face and the dark, vindictive glimmer in her eyes.

Oh, what a fool.

»»————-　　————-««

As you’re about to pay your respects to the queen, you cross paths with the king’s favourite concubine. She regards you stonily as you step into a bow, dipping your head respectfully. Although your eyes are fixed on the ground, you can feel her slowly circling you. Uncomfortable, you shift slightly, feeling like prey pinned underneath a predator’s deadly stare.

“I don’t understand how you got chosen amongst the millions of women practically begging to be the prince’s consort.” she muses, halting in front of you. Her voice was husky and deep like she smoked tobacco every day. Although it wasn’t melodious or lovely, you understood the allure and sensuality of it.

You flinch when she grabs you by the chin, tilting your face up roughly, her grip bruising as she examines your features. Eun-Ji gasps, opening her mouth to protest but a sharp glance from the concubine silences her.

“You’re not exceptionally beautiful either, rather average.” she continues, before letting go of your face. “Perhaps it is because your family is rich.”

Your eye twitches before you school your features into a serene expression, allowing her to continue to direct insults and jabs at you. You knew better than to give her what she wanted.

“Sadly, the prince won’t be giving you much attention. You’ll die alone here. Besides, you’re just a willing pawn who will submit to her future king until he doesn’t need you anymore. Then, he’ll throw you away.” she feigns a pitiful expression before laughing mockingly, the sound grating and unpleasant. You recoil slightly when she leans in, her face mere inches from yours.

“However, as long as I live, that scoundrel won’t be the successor to the throne and you won’t be there to help aid his ascent to power.” she spits, her voice venomous, a drastic change compared to her relaxed words a few seconds ago.

“Don’t call him a scoundrel,” you shoot back, resisting the urge to strike her. Yes, you had originally thought he was just a pompous prince who was power-hungry but after spending time with him, you realized that Sangyeon wasn’t truly as bad as you imagined. He was respectful and kind, clearly valuing and putting others before himself.

The moment the words are out your mouth, you know it’s over for you. Although you could get severely disciplined for talking back, you felt no regret, only sick satisfaction.

Her eyes flash with anger and her hand strikes out, slapping you across the face with so much force you lose your balance, falling on the ground. Eun-Ji cries out, kneeling next to you as she examines you for any injuries.

“That’ll teach you a lesson. Telling me to respect him? Learn your place first.” she hisses, crouching down to your level and wiping her hand on the full skirt of your hanbok, as if there was grime on her hand from touching your face. “Aren’t you so pathetic? Apologize to me and I’ll think about forgiving you.” she croons, expecting your grovelling.

You consider for a heartbeat, weighing the two options. “I’d rather die.” you growl, bristling. When her smug expression morphs into something akin to shock, you feel a surge of pride. Although you knew better than to go around provoking other ladies of the court who could bring upon your demise, you did not want to be meek, thrown and played around with, like a toy underneath the lethal claws of a feline.

“You want to get punished, don’t you?” she utters, livid. “That’s fine, kneel until your precious little prince finds you and saves you, just like the hero you’ve dreamed of.” You bite back the urge to tell her that you didn’t need a man to save you. You were fully capable of saving yourself. You detested being treated as a damsel-in-distress, just waiting for someone to take pity on her.

“I guarantee he won’t, he will be too infatuated with Hwi-bin to care about you.” she derides, lips curling in a contemptuous smile.

You open your mouth to refute, but she has already glided away, the silk of her lavish garment rippling underneath the light as her entourage follows her, their heads bowed. You growl in frustration before attempting to get up but Eun-Ji stops you, shaking her head.

“If you don’t heed her order, you could get thrown into the dungeon,” she whispers frantically, her eyes shifting as she holds on to your wrist tightly.

You shake your head in disdain. “Are you seriously scared of her?” you ask, trying to pry her fingers off your sleeve, the material of your garment creasing underneath her grip.

She nods, relaxing her grip. "She has more power than you think she does. She could order your death if she wanted to."

You bite back the colourful string of curses that you wanted to spew. Surely, that wasn't what a lady of the court would do. So you forced yourself to calm down, taking deep breaths before shifting, raising yourself to kneel.

Hours pass, the rays of sunlight growing weaker as more and more clouds collect but you refuse to lower your chin, head held high. You don't bother glancing at the servants and nobles who walk past, whispering behind their hands as they eye you.

Even if humiliation caused the blood to rush to your face and your knees to shake, you wouldn't give them the satisfaction of watching you break.

Rain starts to fall, gently at first, nothing but mist before the storm gray clouds roll in and suddenly it pours, pelting against the ground with so much force it causes the small puddles to ripple. You don't brush the raindrops away from your face, allowing them to continue cascading down. You already know your hair and garments are drenched and it sends chills through you. You clench your jaw, gritting your teeth to stop them chattering from the cold.

Where was Sangyeon?

»»————-　　————-««

You wake up, groaning as a panging headache hits you. Struggling, you sit up, eyes widening as you take in your surroundings, recognizing the familiar tapestries hanging on the wall and priceless decor that is placed in the room, lacquered floors shining, not even a hint of dust apparent. You tilted your head to the side, confused. You didn’t remember much from yesterday, except that you had made an enemy with the royal concubine and that she had told you to kneel as punishment for disrespecting her.

You draw in a sharp breath. That could only mean one thing, right? Sangyeon had found you and safely returned you to your chambers. Which meant….

You shook your head, shaking off the smug triumph like a dog shaking off water. Still, you had to know it, had to hear it for yourself.

Propping yourself up, you call for your lady-in-waiting. Eun-ji rushes to your aid, carrying a basin of water and a towel. With the speed of her pace, the water splashes against the sides of the basin, threatening to spill.

She presses a hand against your forehead, concern creasing her brow when she feels the heat that practically radiates off of it. You smile when Eun-ji places the damp cloth on, your heart warming at how caring and considerate she is.

"Why are you smiling, my lady?"

You recline on the propped cushions, eyes closed. "It's nothing. What happened?"

Eun-ji hesitates slightly before speaking up. “The queen came across your unconscious figure and ordered me to bring you home. She promised that she’d lift off the punishment that the concubine gave you.”

You turn, so quickly your head starts to spin and you feel faint. Groaning, you close your eyes for a heartbeat, focusing on your steady breathing and the warmth of her hands pushing your damp hair off your face.

Footsteps hammer against the wooden floors and you twist around to peer at the door. Your heart soars when you see Sangyeon in the doorway, face flushed and breath strained as he pants, attempting to catch his breath. Despite his disordered appearance, he was handsome as always, dark, cocoa brown eyes sparkling in the sunshine, causing him to glow, features perfectly lit in the warm golden light.

He stumbles towards you and Eun-ji quietly leaves as he catches your face with both hands, the heat of them seeping into your skin as he examines your face for any hint of injury or discomfort. Frowning, he speaks as he inspects the faint red on your check.

“I heard what happened and I came as quickly as I could-”

"You were with her, weren't you?" you interrupt, voice quiet but it sounds loud to your ringing ears, echoing in the otherwise silent room.

Sangyeon hesitates, clearly reluctant. "Answer me." you snap and you're in awe of your own boldness. An attitude like this could doom you, as seen with the incident that happened only a couple of hours ago.

You figured you had nothing to lose, anyways.

"...Yes."

You sigh, dropping yourself right back on the futon, hair messily splayed out. You didn’t dare admit that it bothered you more than you’d like. After all, you were the one married to Sangyeon. Not Hwi-bin, not someone else, but you. Not to mention he was awfully handsome and charming, confident, sweet and--

You broke off the train of thoughts, directing your focus somewhere else. You rubbed your temples, feeling an oncoming migraine and you furiously willed it to go away. "Listen Sangyeon," you began, meeting the gaze of the male next to you.

"If you want to convince everyone that we're madly in love, you're going to have to act like it."

At your statement, Sangyeon tilts his head like a lost puppy. “What do you mean?”

For a crown prince who supposedly was a high-class scholar, excelling in both studies and skills, he could be so dim. You suppress the sigh that threatened to escape, instead meeting his gaze squarely to try and prove your point. “They can’t know we’re not in love, you idiot. The queen recently told me she was looking forward to becoming a grandmother, for god’s sake!” you exclaimed, shaking your fists in exasperation, trying to emphasize your point and get it through his thick skull.

Sangyeon looked absolutely horrified, mouth hanging open, and you almost laughed at how comical his face looked before your heart dropped. Was it that terrifying to be in a marriage with you? You conceal your hurt, instead sitting up, the duvet pooling around your waist. You struggle with the silk, frowning at how restraining the material was.

Shaking his head, he lifts his hands to grip your shoulders, ceasing your movements. You stall, heat blossoming in your face at how close he is. Sangyeon’s face is close to yours and you can feel every breath he takes. Turning away, you try to distract yourself from his lips, merely inches from yours and the way his breath tickled your cheek. Your mind was shrieking like a crushing schoolgirl about to have her first kiss and you divert your attention elsewhere, ashamed of your bold thoughts.

“Is it that bad, being in an arranged marriage with me?” you tease weakly, loosening his grip on your shoulders as you clear your throat, bumping your shoulder against his playfully, trying to lighten the serious mood.

Suddenly, Sangyeon avoids your eyes, cheeks reddening. “It really isn’t.” he whispers, puffing his cheeks out. “It’s not what you think.”

You tilt your head, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...I care more than you think.” Sangyeon admits, and immediately buries his face into his hands, already dreading his decision to tell you. You stared at him, stunned. Was this...a confession? When you stay silent, he peeks through his fingers, only to be met with your face, centimeters from his. Eyes widening almost comically, he tries to shy away but you lean in closer to plant a chaste kiss on his cheek. Sangyeon’s blush deepens and he instantly interprets your hidden message in the display of affection.

Silence ensues, but it’s not awkward, rather the opposite. Hesitantly, he picks up your hand and plays with your fingers, gaze dropping bashfully to his lap. The room seems to brighten, becoming more colourful and vivid. Pale and washed-out colours of misery and despair are replaced by the spirited and vigorous colours of yellow irises and peach blossoms.

Suddenly, Sangyeon pulls you, mindful of your feverish body, but with enough force so that you land in his lap. Laughing, you prop your chin on his shoulder and run your hands through his hair as his arms snake around your waist, snuggling into the crook of your neck.

“What about Hwi-bin?” you ask timidly and your question seems to partially dissipate the whimsical mood. Pulling away, Sangyeon considers your question as he twirls a lock of your hair around his finger.

“I’ll have to tell her.” he says firmly, “It’s not right to keep this from her. But our relationship is technically public because we are married.” With his last statement, he wiggles his eyebrows at you and you shove him away playfully, pulling a disgusted face.

“You’re making me regret reciprocating your feelings.”

Sangyeon gasps dramatically, clutching at his chest. “How could you say that?”

He lunges forward, capturing you in his arms as he tries to tickle you but you block him with your hands, grappling for control until you finally latch onto his wrists, obstructing his movements. Sangyeon presses his forehead against yours before frowning, pulling back.

“You’re feverish, (Y/n).” he tells you gently, turning to grab the abandoned cloth that had fallen off, submerging it in the cool water before placing it back on your forehead. You’re about to make a snarky remark but Sangyeon shushes you, your smirk disappearing, replaced with a pout.

“I’ve got paperwork to do so I’ll leave you to rest. Get better, (Y/n).”

You nod, closing your eyes, a smile settling on your lips as you listen to his soft footsteps recede into the distance and when you sink into sleep, not even one nightmare plagues it.

»»————-　　————-««

Laughter fills the shadows of the forest as you dart away from Sangyeon’s reach, sticking your tongue out childishly. “Try and catch me!” you call, nothing but adrenaline and joy running through your veins, fueling you to feel foolishly carefree, like you were drunk on the finest alcohol. Running away, you spread your arms out like the wings of an eagle, tilting your head back, enjoying the feeling of the wind caressing your face.

Your eyes widen when you notice something white from a distance. You fall prey to your curiosity as you meander along, picking your way carefully amongst the fallen leaves and large roots of ancient trees that snake through the dirt of the forest floor.

Heart pounding, you reach the mysterious object, inhaling sharply when you realize that it’s a lovely young woman asleep on the floor, gossamer robes covering her frame. Shaking her shoulder, you attempt to rouse her, eyes roving over her face and body to search for telltale signs of injury. Noticing none, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Turning away, you attempt to call out to Sangyeon, but a hand slaps over your mouth, muffling your cry.

Turning around, you realize the woman is awake and fear strikes you when you note the glimmer of menace in her black, pitless eyes. “(Y/n) (L/n),” she begins, and as she speaks, her robes shift, revealing nine tails, pure as snow. Her hand lifts off your mouth but her eyes tell you that if you were to scream she wouldn’t hesitate to resort to violence.

Briefly, you remember the tale of the nine-tailed fox before terror erases it, all reason leaving you in an instant. You couldn’t tell if the woman was trying to give you a friendly greeting or if she’d pull a knife on you in a heartbeat. “H-have we met?” you stammer, laughing nervously to mask your fear. You struggle against her iron grip but your strength is no match for her overpowering one.

“You come from the future, yes? You are looking for a way to return back to your time and I believe I can aid you with that.” she continues calmly, and you go limp, struggling to find the right words.

How did she know?

“How I know is none of your business.” she adds sharply, as if she could read your mind. “However...I can tell you how to get back to your time.”

“In exchange for what?” you question warily, finally finding your voice. Staying in Joseon,, you knew better than to accept someone’s offer without finding out what price you had to pay.

Throwing back her head, the woman lets out a laugh that echoes sharply and you survey your surroundings cautiously to try and detect any lingering eavesdroppers. “Smart girl,” The nine-tailed fox leans back with a smug smile, arms crossed over her chest. “Quite fortunate for you, I demand no price. Whether you accept or not, you must leave as you are interfering with the history of Joseon.”

“Listen closely, for you won’t have another chance.” says the nine-tailed fox, her voice dropping to a whisper, forcing you to lean in closer, straining to hear her.

“Exactly a week later, the planets will align, creating a rare phenomenon and a celestial light will appear, creating an opening where you can escape back to your time. You may have experienced this when you accidentally travelled here.”

You nod, everything slowly connecting and making sense. The corridor in the palace had glowed brighter and you predicted that it was the same celestial light that had allowed you to travel back in time. “How are you sure this will work?” you ask, doubtful.

The woman seems taken aback by your question, then offended. “You have to trust me. It’s your only chance and it is a rare occurrence so it will only happen many centuries later. I doubt a mere mortal like you could live that long.” At that, she barks a laugh before sobering, suddenly grasping your hands with her cold ones.

“You were wrong to fall in love. Joseon does not need you here. You must break ties with your prince and leave before you alter the history, ultimately changing the way your world works as well.” she states, urgency dripping from her voice as she stares into your eyes, any sign of the previous mockery and mirth gone.

You incline your head in understanding. “I understand,” you breathe. “Although...where am I supposed to find this celestial light?”

Suddenly, the sound of fallen leaves crunching alert you of another presence and the woman whips her head in the direction, eyes narrowing. “Look for an open space. The best area would be the bridge that passes over the river.”

“(Y/n)?”

You startle, recognizing Sangyeon’s voice. Discerning the worry in his voice, you try to pull away from the nine-tailed fox but she tugs on your hands. “Good luck. Your fate is in your hands. No one can change it but you.”

She disappears, leaving you dazed, kneeling on the ground amidst the autumn leaves. You pick up the closest leaf, staring numbly at the vibrant scarlet colour as you try to decipher the information. Hearing Sangyeon call your name again, you respond, listening to his footsteps gradually increasing in volume.

Scooping you up into his embrace, Sangyeon buries his face into the crook of your face, inhaling your scent. “Where were you? You scared me.” he whines, uncharacteristically pouty.

You laugh shakily, reaching up to squeeze his face, pulling at his cheeks. “Sorry. I got distracted by a fox.” You felt bad lying to him but at least you were technically telling the truth. You did see a fox...just not the type Sangyeon would expect.

“Let’s get out of the forest. It’s starting to get dark.” he answers, not even noticing your lie, despite how your voice trembled. Sangyeon tore his gaze away from you, eyeing the forest. The sun was almost completely set, mist creeping into the forest as a chill descended, creating an eerie atmosphere. You couldn’t help but jump several times when you noticed a shadow slinking near you, shaken from the encounter with the peculiar woman.

Hiking out of the forest, you huffed, swiping at the sweat that collected on your forehead. It was already evening, the stars and moon already coming out of hiding, shining brightly on you and Sangyeon, your hand clasped tightly in his and you couldn’t help but chuckle amusedly. It was like he was afraid of losing sight of you. Struggling slightly, you shake off his hand, ignoring his protests.

Trudging to the meadow, you plop down on the grass, stretching your legs out as you sighed in relief, tilting your head back to gaze lazily at the sky.

Patting the space next to you, you beamed at Sangyeon, whose eyes crinkled endearingly as he reciprocated it before settling down in the grass next to you. Absentmindedly, you hum, running your fingers through the blades of grass, raindrops collecting on your fingertips.

Your thoughts drift away to the encounter with the nine-tailed fox but you push them away, choosing to instead savour the few moments you had alone with Sangyeon. You lower yourself until you’re lying in the grass, lifting a hand to study the stars, silhouetted against the dark night sky and you marvel at how clear it is compared to the sky in your present time, swirls of midnight and navy blue embellished with bands of gold and silver stars that twinkle mysteriously down at you, nothing shielding its pure beauty.

Fabric rustles as Sangyeon does the same, lying next to you. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body and it lulls you into a sense of safety. Turning your head slightly, you admire him, eyes roving over his sharp features shamelessly, memorizing every slant and curve, tucking it away in your memories. Shifting onto your side, you let your hand reach out, finger gently running along the bridge of his nose before gently tapping it twice. Sangyeon’s lips twitch as he fights back a smile but his eyes flutter close as his hand snaps out to grasp your wrist, lowering it as he brings it to his mouth, softly kissing it before letting go.

It feels bittersweet, knowing that you had fallen in love with Sangyeon. It was the right person, but the wrong time. Although you didn’t believe in destiny, it felt like you and him were destined to meet, to provide a paradise for the both of you, even if it didn’t last for long.

What was the word again?

Ephemeral.

Your relationship with him was ephemeral. Fleeting, short-lived. Something that would last for a short time before you left for good. You closed your eyes as a weight crushed your chest, the reminder that you would leave him behind to a world where things seemed more complicated, especially not with Sangyeon by your side.

“You alright?”

His soft yet deep voice rouses you out of your thoughts and you can’t help but shudder slightly at how sensuous it sounds. You nod, not trusting yourself enough to form words without stuttering or blurting out something embarrassing. He twists to face you and your palm instinctively moves to cup his face, running feather-light fingertips along his jawline, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours. Sangyeon’s eyes flutter close at your touch and his lips curve before he turns to press another kiss to your palm, nuzzling his nose into your hand before he allows you to continue to cradle his face. He exhales shakily. Never in his life has Sangyeon ever felt so free and his heart has never felt so full for someone. Time seemed to stop as you lay on the grass, eyes tracing over the constellations, sparkling like they approved.

In this moment, titles and responsibilities were stripped away, leaving only vulnerability and fragility behind. Sangyeon wasn’t a crown prince and you weren’t from the future, five hundred years later. In this moment, he was just a normal boy and you were just a girl, exposing yourselves to a beautiful blooming love and throwing yourself recklessly into its embrace. Everything felt magical and just right.

»»————-　　————-««

You blink at Hwi-bin. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know! You were flirting with Prince Sejo right in public, without shame! How could you? You are married to Prince Sangyeon, the crown prince!”

You winced at her shrill voice grating on your senses. “I don’t understand what you are trying to say.” you repeat calmly, holding up your hands to try and placate her. You had originally thought Hwi-bin was a sweet girl who wouldn’t swear vengeance but it seemed like your first impression of others was generally incorrect as she was less of a princess, now more like the envious lady in every fairytale who tried to plot the doom of the protagonist.

She huffed, whirling around to face the royal concubine. “My lady, you witnessed it as well!”

The female smirks, leaning forward, her finger tracing over the rim of the porcelain cup in her hand. “How shameful, a noble lady of the court, already married to the crown prince she still flirts and seduces another prince.”

You glare at her, not even trying to mask your hatred for her. “I was simply having a civil conversation with Prince Sejo, my lady. Do I not have the right to speak to other males besides the crown prince?”

“Oh you do.” drawled the concubine, dragging out the words as she stretched out languorously on her seat while you knelt at her feet. “However…”

She leaned forward, a malicious grin surfacing, reminding you of a hungry hyena ready to attack unexpecting prey. “Romancing another man while you are married to another is punishable by death.”

You crossed your arms, defiant. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“Oh? We’ll have to see what the crown prince says about this.” she laughed and dread formed in your stomach at the sinister tone in her voice. As if on cue, Sangyeon enters, hands folded behind his back.

Hope rises, like doves that fly when the sun rises. A radiant smile spreads on your face, only to be diminished quickly, like a blown out candle. Sangyeon’s face was unreadable, his dark eyes stormy and calculating as he beheld you. You go rigid as he doesn’t acknowledge you, instead turning to lower his head and say something to the concubine.

He twirls the dagger in his hand, examining it idly, not even bothering to look at you. “Is what she says true?” he asks, finally acknowledging you as he stares at you with pitless, emotionless eyes. You could hardly recognize the man in front of you. Where was the gentle and sweet Sangyeon you had spent all your days with?

You shake your head frantically, trying to calmly reason with him. “Sangyeon, you know I would never do this.”

“Really?” Sangyeon lifts a brow. “There were people witnessing you trying to seduce my brother and convince him to elope with you, though.”

Heart leaping into your throat, dread forms in your stomach. Everything was going terribly wrong. He was supposed to believe you but he seemed to have morphed into an entirely different person overnight. Sangyeon looked down at you in disdain, as if you were something that was merely wasting his precious time. The captivating feelings of love that had blossomed were now wilting before your very eyes, smooth ruby petals falling, falling and falling, till they reached the ground, shriveled and black like the ugly hatred gathering in your heart.

The royal concubine spoke up, leaning forward. “What should we do with her, Your Excellency?”

“You can do whatever you want with her.” Sangyeon turned to look you straight in the eyes. “I never loved her anyway. She was just a toy, a mere plaything to me.”

It was the apathetic tone of his words that finally broke you. Saccharine eyes that once beheld you like you were his entire world, now harsh and bitter as they stared at you piercingly, stripping you of your dignity and strength, leaving you vulnerable. Like a dam barely holding up under the sheer pressure of the river, it broke, and all your emotions came pouring in.

You stare at Sangyeon in shock, betrayal evident on your face. “Please tell me this isn't true. Sangyeon...please!” you beg, tears filling your eyes as your bottom lip quivers. “You love me right? You know I wouldn’t ever do this!”

You felt pathetic and unwanted, kneeling at their feet as they looked on, clearly uninterested. Yet you were still in denial, hoping that Sangyeon would come to his senses miraculously and help you out of this mess.

To your horror, he stares at you challengingly before pressing a kiss against Hwi-bin’s lips, mirrored smirks on both their faces as Sangyeon turns to face you, without breaking eye contact. “Is that enough proof? Did you really think I truly loved you? It was all an act to unite your family with mine. You are such a fool, (Y/n).”

You lowered your head, vision blurring as you stared at the floor, tears cascading down your face and dripping onto the floorboards, creating a small puddle of sorrow and anguish, nothing compared to your fragile heart, shattered and left on display for all to see.

The royal concubine cackles, adding to your humiliation and shame, burning bright on your cheeks. “I told you the crown prince would always choose Hwi-bin over you.” she crows triumphantly. “Guards, take her away to the dungeon. I’m sick of her dramatic display.”

Your eyes widen in alarm and you look up, tears falling freely, shining like crystals as you desperately try to seek out Sangyeon, but he’s already turned away, walking away with Hwi-bin by his side. Sangyeon looks at her lovingly, like she’s the only person that matters and your heart crumbles, knowing that he once looked at you like that too. Slumping, you let the guards roughly pull you to your feet, your head lolling to the side in defeat as they drag you towards your awaited fate.

»»————-　　————-««

You sat in the cell, legs tucked neatly underneath you, the rich material of your hanbok soiled beyond repair but you paid it no heed, eyes fixed on the iron bars that separated you from the rest of the castle. Your legs were aching from being pressed into the firm and coarse floor, the thin layer of filthy hay doing nothing to soften it. A chipped bowl of rice and water sat in front of you but it was untouched.

Hearing footsteps echo on the stone of the floors, you straighten, chin raised in defiance. Did the royal concubine come to taunt you? Hwi-bin? Or was it time for torture?

You blanch when you realize who's standing in front of you. The crown prince himself. For several heartbeats you stare at him, nothing but betrayal and sorrow on your features before they harden into a cold mask, your eyes betraying nothing.

Seconds pass, bleeding into minutes. You grit your teeth, feeling like several agonizing hours had passed while Sangyeon stood there, merely observing you. Feeling the need to break the ice that was thickening between you, you opened your mouth.

“Did you even care about me? Am I just a pawn to be used?” you asked, your voice oddly quiet as you stared at him with a terrifying calmness, like the calm before a great storm. Sangyeon watched you, his expression inscrutable as he clasped his hands behind his back. Your breath hitches as you remember the royal consort’s words.

“Besides, you’re just a willing pawn who will submit to her future king until he doesn’t need you anymore. Then, he’ll throw you away.”

You could almost hear her cackle, echoing in your head as if she already knew the result. “Have you ever seen me… as more than something to take advantage of?” you continue when he doesn’t respond and you finally break, the wall you had constructed finally cracking, nothing but remnants of it left. You dig your fingers into your palm, a familiar prickling sensation in your eyes as tears start to swell, your bottom lip quivering.

His words from yesterday resurface. “Did you really think I truly loved you? It was all an act to unite your family with mine. You are such a fool, (Y/n).”

Sangyeon still doesn’t say anything, his indifferent expression infuriating you. You felt like you were fighting a one-sided battle, as if you were struggling against the strong waves of the ocean that tugged insistently at you, dunking you under over and over again.

"I was so naive...I thought I'd be able to compete with Hwi-bin but we were never on the same level, to begin with. She was your first, first love, first kiss, first everything. You prioritize her over me because she’s got you wrapped around her finger. Every single time, you'll continue to return back to her.” you laugh bitterly, fingers digging into your scalp, tugging roughly at the unbound strands of your hair.

The image of love, of romance, was different now. Your relationship with him had started off shakily and although insecurity and doubt swallowed you, you let yourself look ahead, fix your eyes on the light that had appeared at the seemingly never-ending tunnel. It was hope.

Love...could be compared to a rose in full bloom, lovely with its soft and vermilion petals swaying gently in the wind, carrying over its fragrant and enticing scent, luring you closer until your hands reached out to cup it in your hands, under the charm of its seemingly harmless beauty. The longer you allow yourself to fall underneath its charm, lingering feelings turned into tentative and fleeting kisses, then tangled in each other’s arms, whispering sweet nothings as the moon continues its steady climb in the sky.

Now that it’s in your possession, you become greedy, wanting more. Your hands slide to its stem, maneuvering it so you can pick it. You’re so captivated that you don’t notice the thorns that gleam menacingly underneath the sunlight until it’s too late, the tender skin of your fingertips breaking as they sink into it, rivulets of scarlet blood cascading down.

The spell crumbling, you regain your senses and you’re aware of the stinging pain of the wound, You snatch your hand away but the damage is already done. There are two choices: attempt to pick the rose again and let yourself succumb to the pain, numbing your senses as blood continues to trickle or discard it and let yourself heal.

You had chosen the latter. Entering the imperial palace, you had firmly told yourself to not fall for love’s traps and tricks but here you were, like some kind of lovestruck fool, vying for Sangyeon’s affection. It was time to shut him out, deny him any entrance to your heart and instead, focus on getting back to your true home, five hundred years later.

Immersed in your brooding thoughts, you don’t notice Sangyeon moving closer to you, the dirty hay shifting underneath his feet. “(Y/n).” he breathes and at the sound of his voice, your heart aches, longing to be in his arms, to be able to feel the smooth skin of his face beneath your palms. You glare at him, backing up to place more distance in between you, pushing the wistful thoughts away. They were like poison, able to muddy your thoughts and cause you to act differently.

Despite your retreat and clear unwillingness, Sangyeon continues to advance until your back hits the rough and grimy wall of the prison cell. Before you can open your mouth to unleash the lengthy counter that you’ve been holding in, his lips are on yours. Involuntarily, you inhale sharply, a gasp that sounded noisy within the hushed cell, the sound swallowed by his mouth as your fingers instantly tangle themselves in his hair. The familiarity of his soft lips on yours causes electricity to tingle through your entire body and you felt euphoric like you were on cloud nine.

Your hands fall to the side as Sangyeon presses you roughly against the wall, one hand supporting himself as he deepens the kiss, causing you to feel dizzy. Your knees weaken, turning into jelly as he nips at your lip, teasing it with a graze of his teeth. His free hand finds yours, clasping yours in his with a gentleness that contrasts with the unrelenting pressure of his mouth on yours.

The kiss is searing, it burns away your worries and problems for the time being, the passion racing through your veins like a fire swallowing a forest. It melts away the ice freezing your heart and you let yourself submit to it and lay yourself bare, becoming vulnerable.

You swear you feel Sangyeon pass something to you, the cool metal biting into the heated palm of your hand but all thoughts are gone as he parts, trailing soft kisses down your neck. Your unoccupied hand curls into a fist and you know you shouldn't let yourself get carried away.

After all, Sangyeon was the rose, he was dangerously charming, drawing you so close that your head spun, lessening your chances of returning back to your rightful home.

Keeping the advice the nine-tailed fox told you in mind, your hand raises to press against his chest, firmly pushing him away and effectively dislodging his lips from yours.

Sangyeon eyes you, your lips no doubt matching the swollen state of his. He leans in closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You brace yourself, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Tomorrow at dawn, at the back gates." he whispers, his breath tickling your ear. Your eyes open and they flash with anger as your hand connects with his face and you ignore the stinging of your palm as you withdraw it.

"Don't tell me what to do." you seethe, gaze locking with his. You glimpse the pink blossoming on the side of Sangyeon's face and you almost feel guilty but you remind yourself that this was all his fault. You had your own plans and you were not going to fail.

Sangyeon has the audacity to smirk at you as his hand lifts to touch his cheek, eyes dark with desire but they soften when he notices how your hands clench, knuckles whitening.

You don't look up but you can feel Sangyeon's lingering gaze. He turns on his heel and leaves, bringing the warmth with him, the cell turning back into a bleak gray. Although he's gone, you can still feel his presence.

You move to press the heels of your hands against your brow but the clang of something hitting the ground startles you. Whirling, you peer at the floor and amidst the hay, something gold winking up at you.

Your hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around it. A key…? Your eyes widen as you remember Sangyeon pressing something into your palm, flushing when you also remember how...preoccupied you were.

You savour the feeling of the cool metal contrasting with the warmth of your skin as you play with it, your mind racing and calculating. The nine-tailed fox had told you that tomorrow at midnight, all eight major planets in the Solar System would align, which was a rare occurrence that would allow you to travel back to your time.

During your short time here, you had already taken note of when the guards would rotate into different shifts. That would give you the time to escape to the bridge but with none to spare. If something went wrong...you shook your head. Now was not the time to dwell on if you would fail or not. Lifting your head, you stared at the crescent moon outside of the narrow gap in the wall that served as a window, watching the clouds drift by, blocking the moonlight momentarily.

You could only bide your time and wait.

You called sweetly out to the guard outside your cell, lifting a hand to beckon him closer to request paper and ink. For now, you’ll write a letter to say goodbye to Sangyeon. You felt hollow, dreading the final goodbye but it was inevitable. He belonged here and you belonged in your own time.

»»————-　　————-««

You didn’t remember much of the next day. After sealing the letter to Sangyeon, you had somehow gotten the guard to cooperate and deliver it to him. All you could do was wait, legs cramping from kneeling on the floor the entire time. You hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep and you felt exhausted, but you were determined to not let the golden opportunity slip from your grasp.

You had spent the day watching the rotations of guards and you noted that the rotation was the same, as if you weren’t worth guarding. You scoff, scorn burning in your veins. You’d show them by escaping. They might have expected a meek girl who couldn’t do anything but merely watch with tears in her eyes and wait for her shining knight in armour to save her but you didn’t need a saviour. You would create your chance and leave this wretched place.

The sound of heavy footsteps startling you, you recognize the familiar jangling of the keyring paired with off-key whistling, presumably from the nightguard. Shifting, you grip the brick in your hand. You had pried the loose brick from the wall, in hopes of wielding it as a weapon if you got caught. Drops of sweat slither down the back of your neck as you listen to the sound of footsteps recede as the guard hummed merrily, clearly in a good mood after finishing his shift. Knowing you didn’t have time to spare, you rummaged through the make-shift pouch for the key of the cell. Although you hated to ruin such beautiful silk, the long material hindered your movements and you had no choice but to tear it off, exposing your calves and providing freedom of movement.

Heart pounding, you find the key, almost dropping it due to your clammy hands. Holding it between your clammy fingers, you allow a second to collect yourself before advancing to the door, reaching through the bars. Straining, you miss the keyhole a couple of times before it slips in. Twisting it, your ears perk up when you hear the click and it unlocks, swinging open with a creak. Venturing out, you pause, listening for any footsteps.

Hearing none, you pad quietly out before settling into a sprint, making sure to tread lightly to avoid unwanted noise. Pressing against a wall, you hold your breath as you wait for the guard pass, narrowly escaping. It wouldn’t be long until someone noticed the cell was empty. The moment he’s gone, you peel yourself away, and dart into the woods, hurrying towards the bridge.

You slow your pace the moment the bridge comes into sight, the river serene and calm as it winds through the countryside, moonlight causing the water to sparkle. Taking a moment to survey the surroundings for any unwanted intruders, you exhale heavily. Finally, you were only a step away from achieving your heart’s desire: returning to your rightful time.

Yet…..why did your heart feel so heavy?

Your brain and heart were in turmoil, disagreeing with what each had to say. While your brain argued that it was only correct to return, your heart begged tearfully to stay and you knew exactly what, no who, was still tying you to this wretched place, with its malicious dangers and traps disguised as sunshine and freedom: Sangyeon.

How many times had your heart leapt at the sight of him? At the mere sound of his name, of his voice? Despite his betrayal and change of heart, you still loved him and you held onto the tiny shred of hope, like the light at the end of a pitch-black tunnel, that he still loved you as well. After all, Sangyeon had presented you the opportunity to escape by giving you the key.

You shook your head, clearing the treacherous thoughts that threatened to take over your logic. No, whether your heart agreed or not, whether you would eventually regret it or not, you had to return home. You shuddered, imagining spending another day in Joseon, without your family or any of your friends.

Advancing towards the bridge, you watch your flickering shadow pass on the wooden planks, the wood creaking slightly in protest under your weight. Leaning on the railing, you gazed at the lone fish darting underneath lily pads, its scales silver underneath the moonlight. Raising your head, you squinted at the sky. As if in response, it glowed brighter and you watched, astounded, as the clouds broke apart and light shone through, like an angel was descending to Earth.

It shined down upon you, and you basked in it, your eyes barely open due to the sheer glare of the light, joy flooded your face as you rejoiced, as you awaited your return. Looking down, you gasped when you realized that you were slowly disappearing, your hands shimmering ghostly and when you tried to grip the railing of the bridge, your hands passed through. You guessed it meant that the nine-tailed fox was correct, and that it would effectively bring you back to the future.

Pounding footsteps alert you of another presence and you whirl around, the strands of your hair dancing wildly in the breeze. Your eyes meet Sangyeon’s and your heart plummets, raising your hands shakily to keep him away from the light. You couldn’t risk him altering history and travelling to the future with you, even if it sounded tempting.

“What are you doing here?” you shout, panic rising, shaking your head repeatedly as he tries to take a step closer.

“Your letter.” Sangyeon stated simply, voice trembling, full of emotion, of denial, fear and sorrow, as his eyes filled with tears, threatening to spill over. A letter is clenched in his fist, familiar handwriting scrawled hastily on the faded surface.

“You’re joking right? From the future? You can’t be serious…” he whispers, hope ablaze in his eyes as he stops in his tracks, and your heart cries out, singing for him, for his touch, for his warmth to surround you once again.

You don’t respond, gazing at him solemnly and the hope fades, like the final rays of the sun before twilight takes over. Sangyeon’s shoulders sag, defeated. “This is goodbye then?”

“You know, I always thought you were acting weird. The (Y/n) I knew was haughty, snobbish and power-hungry but you were nothing like what the rumours said. At this point, I’m not even surprised you’re from the future.” he laughs bitterly, running his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands roughly as he starts pacing in tight circles, distraught.

Glancing down at your body, you notice that you’re almost transparent, the light erasing you from this world that you were never supposed to even be in. “Sangyeon.” you call, ceasing his pacing as you beckon for him, longing to hold his face in your hands and take in his breathtaking beauty, shining so brightly that you were positive you would never forget, even when you were wrinkled and gray from age.

“I love you.” you tell him sincerely, hands reaching up to cup his cheeks but they pass through, and Sangyeon’s eyes widen in alarm when you start fading.

“Wait!” he screams, lunging towards you to hold you, to do anything to stop you from leaving, but you’re already disappearing, your face blurring as you smile at him, fighting back tears. Just as suddenly as it appears, the odd light disappears back into the clouds, like it was never there. Sangyeon expects you to still be standing there, to embrace him and grace him with that lovely smile but you’re gone. Sangyeon is left by himself, standing still on the bridge, the wind tousling his hair, each strand dancing individually as he slumps, heartbroken.

Suddenly, it was like the world was drained of its colours. The sky was no longer a hopeful image of promising love and dreams, instead a mocking gray filled with dull stars that didn’t sparkle as brightly like they did when he saw them with you. Collapsing on the bridge, he cries, tears falling freely as he hugs himself, chest heaving as he tries to breathe steadily, his whole body racking with the painful sobs that threaten to rip him apart, broken apologies and pleas falling from his trembling lips.

“I love you too.”

He repeats the phrase over and over again, as if it alone, would bring you back to his side and fill the emptiness in his heart.

This was never supposed to happen.

»»————-　　————-««

“(Y/n). (Y/n!)”

Distantly, you hear a faraway voice, desperate and fearful, calling out to you. Regaining consciousness, your eyes flutter open, taking in the familiar surroundings. Recognizing the corridor, you sigh, relieved. Turning your head, you notice your friend, kneeling at your side.

“Are you alright?” she gasps, lifting your head gently to check for any wounds. When she finds none, she smiles faintly, glad, before her gaze travels down to examine your face. “Have you been crying?” she questions, bewildered.

Your eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, cheeks blotchy and she could see the remnants of tears dried on them. You ignore her question, heart aching again as you remember Sangyeon’s panicked and distraught face as he reached out to you, only to grasp empty air. You accept her helping hand, groaning when the world spins and you clutch onto your head, closing your eyes for a moment to stabilize yourself.

You slowly walk out of the corridor, taking wobbly steps to reunite with your group. Your face lights up when you notice the familiar group of tourists, and you quicken your pace, ignoring your friend’s attempts of slowing you down. Gasping, you bump into someone’s back, almost throwing you off balance until you’re steadied by him, large hands supporting you. Looking up, the apology dies in your throat as you’re met with a familiar face.

Sangyeon?

Recognition floods you as your eyes rove over the slopes and angles of the male’s face. He looked eerily similar to Sangyeon and you almost laughed at the coincidence. Life just kept on surprising you when you least expected it.

In front of you, the man apologizes and offers you a smile. “Have we met?” he questions, tilting his head, and your heart soars at the familiarity of it.

You hide your smile, looking down at your feet as memories surfaced, of kisses stolen in corridors and sweet nothings whispered at night, when Sangyeon had thought you were asleep.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m (Y/n).” you state, offering your hand.

“Sangyeon.” he grins, eyes crinkling adorably as he grips your hand, shaking it firmly and your cheeks involuntarily flush at the warmth of his hand enveloping yours.

Even if your love had happened almost 600 years ago, somehow life had bound you together again and you swore you saw a glimpse of the delicate red string that encircled your pinky, connecting yours with his before it disappeared. You listen to him talk, nodding along absentmindedly. Perhaps you were soulmates.

At that, the clouds break apart, revealing the moon, illuminating the area, washing the stone in silvery tones, as if showing its approval.

»»————-　　————-««

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fandom-collective-writers · 4 years

Text

Melt in My Arms (Kenshin Uesugi x MC)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Kenshin Uesugi x MC

Prompt: Fireworks, Summer festival, Heat, Melting

Warning: Smut!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 1,857

Requested by: @cherrydangome - don’t know why the tag isn’t working ;-;

Written by: @lordsisterxotome

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Sengoku or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

“K-Kenshin, we-ah! We can’t! S-Someone will hear!”

“Not if you’re quiet,” the man between her legs responded, humming against her dripping core as he licked his lips of her essence. “Not that I mind if someone finds us. It’ll show them that you’re all mine before I kill them for seeing you how only I’m allowed to see you.”

“Kenshin!” she scolded quietly in protest. Her head tilted back, bottom lip between her teeth, as his tongue delved inside of her again, his moans of pleasure vibrating through her in a way that made her legs tremble. Fingers tightened in his pale hair as he slurped noisily, grabbing her thighs in a bruising grip to keep her in place.

This was a bad idea. There were too many people around for them not to get caught. Kasugayama was even more crowded than usual because of the summer festival, travelers from across the territory having come to enjoy the festivities. There were even going to be large-scale fireworks this year, courtesy of the Uesugi head after MC had told him about the common practice in her time.

They had been walking through town, enjoying the jovial atmosphere and sampling the food and drink vendors, when Kenshin had pulled her into a deserted alley, nestled between two buildings and hidden by the vendors’ equipment. When she had opened her mouth to question him, she found herself shoved against the wall, a hot mouth on hers as an even hotter body pressed against her own.

What little resistance she harbored to his sudden passion disappeared as his tongue prodded against her lips, slipping inside to dominate her mouth with the taste of rich sake. She was rendered helpless in his arms, melting as his hips began to gyrate, a knee slipping between her legs and parting her kimono.

Trailing hungry kisses down her throat, she’d gasped as he dropped to his knees, green and blue eyes hazed with desire as he gazed up at her. He’d parted her legs slowly, allowing her the opportunity to stop this any time, but she had remained silent. Maybe part of her enjoyed the thrill of possibly being caught, but more than that she just wanted him, his mouth, his touch, his cock, all of him, him, him.

Sliding her kimono away from her thighs, Kenshin’s calloused fingers had sent shivers up her spine as they trailed along her inner thighs, gently prying them open as she instinctively tried to close them.

“Let me see what’s mine,” he’d murmured, breath fanning against the skin of her knee as he leaned closer.

He had hummed in satisfaction when she gave into his request, spreading her legs to him. Long fingers immediately stroked her damp folds, circling her entrance a couple of times before finding her clit and pressing down teasingly on the swelling bundle of nerves. A gasp had escaped before she could clamp a hand over her mouth, Kenshin’s mouth descending on her in a flurry of teeth and tongue and setting a fire in her that he’d been stoking for the last few minutes.

It felt as if he was trying to suffocate himself against her core as he pressed closer now, shifting his attention to licking and biting at her clit while his fingers busied themselves with thrusting inside of her, preparing her for something much larger. “Kenshin!” she choked, trying not to scream as her trembling legs threatened to give out beneath her.

MC whimpered when he pulled away, lips glistening with her slick and eyes bright with a feral light. “Try to keep quiet, my love.” Her face burned as he licked his lips, moaning at her taste. “You don’t want to get caught, do you?”

“Please…!” she managed, nails digging into her palms for some sense of stability. Getting caught be damned, she needed him inside of her right now, needed him to quell this burning ache.

“Please?” Rising to his feet, she whined at the loss of contact as his fingers slipped out of her, her hips bucking into empty air in search of the lost friction. “You want me to take you right here, right now? Where anyone could find us?”

He was teasing her now and she knew it, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. His pale cheeks were tinted with pleasure when she pulled away, panting. “Yes,” she answered. “I don’t care about that right now. I need you inside of me so badly, please Kenshin!”

His Adams’ apple bobbed at her pleading, pants escaping perfect, parted lips as he moved, untying his hakama enough to pull out his hard cock. MC clutched at her lover desperately as she was lifted off her feet, legs wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck. She buried her face in his neck as his throbbing length slipped through her heat, the tip prodding her entrance. It took every bit of self control she possessed not to throw her head back and scream for him right now, to let the entire town know who was about to fuck her.

“Let me see your face,” he rumbled, and she whined in protest but did as he asked, leaning away from his neck to meet his gaze. Kenshin always looked angelic, but she realized he looked particularly beautiful when he made love. Limned in the light of the night sky far overhead and painted in the warm light of the festival lanterns he looked dreamlike, his cheeks flushed the most lovely shade of pink as his hazed eyes crinkled at the corners, a loving smile on his lips.

“You look beautiful like this, wanting me.”

Peering up at him through her lashes, she rolled her hips in answer, drawing a pleasured groan from her lover as his grip tightened on her. “I was just thinking the same about you,” she whispered, placing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Please, Kenshin, I need you so bad it hurts.”

“Hmm~” His lips curled up in a satisfied smirk. “I was just thinking the same thing,” he replied in a tender echo of her words.

With a quick, hard thrust, he filled her, moaning into the side of her neck as she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut and digging her nails into his shoulders. The familiar stretch of his impressive length felt so good she couldn’t help but moan softly as he filled her so perfectly.

It took a single moment for his lovemaking to turn feral, lips and teeth marking whatever skin he could find as he thrusts deep within her, finding his rhythm. His length allows him to reach depths inside of her she didn’t know existed, leaving her a mewling mess as she tries not to lose herself to the pleasure. If anyone were to find them like this...she didn’t want to think of what Kenshin might do to the poor soul.

His mouth latching onto her neck had her head tilting to the side, exposing the column of her throat to him for marking. MC’s fingers tugged at his clothing, wishing to feel the skin beneath, but this isn’t the place. For now, she’s satisfied with his length inside of her, rubbing her walls deliciously with each thrust.

She squeaked when he suddenly hoisted her up higher in his arms, drilling into her in a way that had her eyes rolling back against the wave of sheer ecstasy that sang through her. Her jaw clenched around a scream, heels digging into his back as she tried to pull him impossibly closer.

“You were made for me,” Kenshin moaned, and a part of her panicked at his volume, but what sense she had left quickly dissipated with each thrust into her tight, dripping heat, the erotic squelching sound of him plunging into her filling the alleyway. “All mine,” he growled possessively, and a second later his lips descended on hers, tongue slipping past her parted lips to swallow her pleasured sounds.

She had been nearing her peak before when he’d eaten her out, and now she was quickly approaching that edge once more, tears blurring her vision as her body tingled. MC yelped when the tip of his cock angled to hit the sensitive spot that made her see stars, quickly moving to cover her mouth with a hand.

“You’re - hng - close,” Kenshin panted in her ear, “I...ah...I can feel it. You’re squeezing me...so tight.” His lips curled in pleasure, his body pressing hers more heavily against the wall as his thrusts turned harder, heavier. “Feels like your body’s trying to - mmm - pull me in deeper. Yes, yes, yes…!”

She could feel him so close to his climax, his thrusts turning harder, rougher, faster as he throbbed inside of her. It felt so good, his length filling and stretching and rubbing so perfectly. Her whole body felt so warm, filled with his love and lust.

Soft lips descended on his jaw, begging for release, and his mouth formed around one word to signal her undoing. “Come,” he ordered with a last thrust that seated him deep inside of her, and she couldn’t withhold the cry that rose in her chest.

Just as her lips parted, however, a boom split the air, the sky overhead illuminated in myriad colors. If it hadn’t been for the fireworks going off at just the right moment, anyone close by would have heard her release, but the pyrotechnics covered the sound as MC screamed her lover’s name, her core clamping down on his cock and milking him for all he was worth. Snarling, Kenshin buried his teeth into the crook of her shoulder, the pain sparking more pleasure in the throes of her orgasm.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chanted in her ear as he filled her and she felt more than heard her response, crying her love for him into the open air. Trembling and whimpering, she melted in his arms as his heat poured into her and spread warmth throughout her entire body. A soothing purr rumbled in his chest as he cradled her in his arms, hips thrusting up into her shallowly as he rode out the afterwaves of his release.

Soft kisses tickled her skin as he kissed her nose, eyes, temples, anywhere he could reach, nuzzling into her hair. “I’ve been waiting to have you like this all day.”

A content smile curled at her lips, feeling their combined release drip down her inner thighs. “Really? What do you say we go back to the castle and continue this somewhere more private?” Fortunately, the castle would be practically empty tonight, all of the servants and vassals given the day off for the festival. They would have the whole place to themselves and it was a good thing too because she wasn’t quite ready for their lovemaking to be over for the night.

One would have thought she had just told him she was giving him the world, his smile was so dazzlingly happy as he answered, “Sounds perfect.”

The festival could wait for another day; she couldn’t think of anything better right now than being in her lover’s adoring embrace.

#ikemen #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird ikemen series #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikemen sengoku x reader #ikesen x reader #melt in my arms (kenshin uesugi x mc)#smut #romance #ikemen kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin uesugi x reader #ikemen x reader #otome #otome x reader #cybird

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msmkcreates · 4 years

Text

A Second Chance at a First Impression Ch. 9: The One With the Croissant

Boss may be taking care of Stretch, but he still has therapy of his own to attend, and therapy always digs up the root of the problem.

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I know it's been a while, but I've had so much going on these last few weeks, some very good (like a promotion) and some very bad,, including dealing with a death of a family member recently so all of my works have been inching along slowly in my documents.

I hope everyone is having a Happy New Year

Warnings: therapy, imposter syndrome, anxiety, working out Boss' issues, discussion of consent and power imbalances

Read on Ao3 with the above link

-or-

Read here on Tumblr

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The clinic was always empty this time of day, the sun sinking down beneath the surrounding buildings, but Boss quite prefers it when there's less people cluttering the lobby and the waiting room.

His therapist was an aging man named John, with kind eyes and a weathered wedding ring polished by worrying fingers over the years. His office was decorated simply with a handful of pictures of his wife and nephews. No children, he had told Boss once, though the why had never quite come to him. In Boss' opinion it was really none of his business, but he did wonder what could stop someone with so much kindness from passing it on.

"How are things with your new job?" John asked, looking over his glasses at him. "I know you've been struggling with your inability to join the workforce, has this helped the negative thoughts go away?"

"It helps to have another income," Boss agreed, his hands folded neatly in his lap. "And it helps that it's family, and so close to home. It isn't what I expected, though."

John hummed, leaning back in his own chair. "How so?"

"Well, to be frank, I expected it to be a nightmare," he chuckled. "Stretch and I get along like baking soda and vinegar on the best of days. Or at least, we used to...it seems like we get along better than he and his own brother now. He's kind, and thoughtful, a little naive but also startlingly wise at times."

"A good change, then?"

Boss hummed, looking down at his hands. "...I'm not sure. It's nice that he usually does what I ask, and it's nice that we don't fight all the time. But I worry that maybe...he still feels the same, deep down."

"As if maybe, he is keeping it to himself out of a sense of duty and gratitude?" John asked. "You worry that he is only this way because you're caring for him."

"...right on the money, as always," he chuckled.

It was something they'd discussed before, the fear that any kindness shown to him was out of a sense of duty, fear, or propriety. When he'd begun his sessions with John, he'd resisted the idea that he treated Red badly, only to find that was exactly what he had done and Red had only gone along with every horrid word because Boss provided protection, safety, and home. With Red's HP he had always just taken it on the chin for the sake of surviving, something they have been parsing out in small quantities and group sessions over the years, limited by Red's stubborn insistence that Boss has nothing to apologize for.

The fear was there, that Stretch was only pretending to like him because of the inherent power Boss holds being his caregiver. He worries that fear rules their relationship, that Stretch is only being kind because Boss is helping him.

"Is it wrong of me to assume that you might hold feelings for Stretch?"

Boss felt his face flush as he looked up swiftly, bristling slightly in embarrassment. "I, well, that is...I don't know what you mean."

"Correct me if I'm wrong,but every time we talk about Stretch recently, it's all very positive. Your posture changes, and you smile more. Before the accident, any time we spoke of him it was as if you'd eaten something sour, but now it's like I've just offered you your favorite candy." John leaned back in his chair, his eyes twinkling knowingly. "Is it fear of your power in the relationship that keeps you from recognizing these feelings?"

Boss hummed, looking out the minnow over the nearby park. Stretch sat there, on a bench where he had left him to wait, and he got up to walk over to the window and pulled the sheer curtain aside to look at him more properly.

He'd bought him a croissant, in the hopes he'd eat it, but looked like the soft-hearted man had felt bad for the birds with little food, as he was tearing pieces off it to feed to the growing number of cardinals and winter wrens surrounding him. They pecked at the snowy ground and hopped around his feet, and Boss could almost hear him talking to them, telling them to wait their turn as if they understood English, and he chuckled.

"Feelings are irrelevant. I only want him to get better. I want to see him smile more, to see him happy." Boss let the curtain fall back into place. "I'm his friend now, but I'm also his caregiver. If I made a move on him, wouldn't that put pressure on him to say yes, even if he didn't want to? Would he feel as if he owed me? As much as I may want him, I don't want that."

"Consent is very important, and being on unequal footing can compromise it," John agreed. "Have you spoken with him about these thoughts? Being clear in your motives and your wish for consent?"

"Heavens no," Boss chuckled, grasping his hands together as he turned back to the couch. "I think I'd much rather eat a cactus than talk about my feelings. As you know."

"Do you think that's very fair?"

"To him?" Boss asked.

"To yourself."

Boss paused, squeezing his hands together as he thought on that. "...I'm not sure. I'm not even sure what I feel for him is romantic or platonic. I can't tell if it's happiness at finding a true friend or...something more. Or if it's just the amount of time together, or just guilt. I think it'd be a disservice to tell him how I feel if it turns out I'm wrong."

"That seems sound," John said, leaning back in his chair. "Perhaps you should explore your feelings deeper?"

Boss shook his head. "I'm not so sure I want to."

"And why is that?"

"I...I'm not good for him. I'm dangerous, my LV is... so high, and only one hit from me, even with higher HP that he has now, would destroy him. What if I lose myself one day?"

"Do you think knowing you cared for him would increase the chance of that happening?" John asked. "Currently you are spending about as much time together as any married couple. Do you still thinks he is in danger from your presence?"

"Well...I guess you have a point." Boss fidgeted with his fingertips. "Maybe I was the wrong person to look after him."

"That isn't what I meant," John chuckled, standing from his chair. "I think all feelings are worth exploring, Papyrus. If you understand yourself, you can begin to make the changes you want to see. It's worked thus far with your brother, hasn't it?"

Boss smiled wryly. It was true, his relationship with Red was leagues better now than it had ever been, just from understanding and changing his behavior.

"...I will think on it." He reached out to shake John's outstretched hand. "Thank you again, John. Have a lovely weekend and say hello to the missus."

"I gave you that croissant to feed yourself, not the birds."

"I always do," John promised.

--------

Stretch looked up at Boss with bright eyelights, smiling wide from beneath the many birds perched on his outstretched arms. And legs. And head. And any semi-flat surface they could sit on.

"but it's so cold! where are they gonna get their food?"

Boss chuckled, the puffy jacket he was wearing rising and falling with his shoulders in a shrug. "They're winter birds. They eat nuts and berries and whatever else. They know how to get what they need, unless people keep feeding them so they never learn how to do it themselves."

Stretch smiled sheepishly. "...oops?"

Boss stepped closer, and in a flurry of wings, all his new bird friends took off into the chilly winter air. He watched them flutter off, scattering into the sparse park trees.

"I suppose I'm too scary for your birds," he sighed, sitting beside him on the bench. "And you? Am I too scary?"

"too scary? no, you're the best!" Stretch answered, and Boss noted the lack of hesitation with faint pride before he even registered the compliment. "who else is gonna buy me croissants to feed the birds with? blue just says i can't live off bread and gives me something lame, like a salad or green beans."

"Hmm, so I shouldn't make shepherd's pie for dinner tonight?" Boss asked, smirking over at him as he gave a look of disbelief. "Well, since you've decided to live off croissants…"

"noooo! i want the pie!" Stretch whined, leaning on him and tugging on his sleeve. "please! you cook so much better than blue!"

"Don't let him hear you say that," Boss laughed, gently removing his hands from his arm. "If we want shepherd's pie, we need to go to the grocery store. Are you up for it?"

"...can we also get some more honey?" Stretch asked, standing with him and trying his best to look cute. Looking cute seemed to get him what he wanted with Boss, and to his delight he got an amused smirk.

Boss turned, jerking his head so he would follow. "If you're good, we can get whatever you want. Come on, then."

#ascaafi #a second chance at a first impression #spicyhoney #papcest #finally figured out the readmore eeeyyyy #amnesia fic

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iwantitiwriteit · 4 years

Text

Slow Burn: Act I - Part 5

The Lip Sync Battle

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: Growing tensions between you and Chris overflow in the most musical of battles.

Warnings: Profanity, drunken silliness

Notes: Oh my fucking gosh, I fucking finished it! This part was a BEAST to write! It’s hella long so it’ll be in two posts. Before you dive in, set the mood with the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Read the previous part here.

“How about this one?”

“No, not neon enough!”

“Ok…” you hold up another top option, “this one?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Alright. This?“

“Uh—”

“Uggggghhhhh!!!” It’s been 45 minutes of trying to decide on an outfit and your patience is running thin. “I’m this close,” you put up a microscopic amount of space between your pointer finger and thumb, “THIS CLOSE to leaving in my pajamas. Don’t think I won’t do it!”

Your older sister, Lynn, laughs at your dramatics from her spot on the end of your bed in her guestroom. “Oooo won’t the paps love that! I just want to make sure you slay tonight! You never know what Hottie McDotties might be in there…”

You scoff, “I’m trying to be low key tonight and not draw any attention to myself. Tonight is not about me.” You look over to your sister who is distractedly sorting through the pile of clothes that’s accumulated on the bed. “Do you hear me?”

“I hear what you're saying… I just don’t care. Now c’mon, let’s find you something sexy! I know we’re close!” You and Lynn turn back to your almost empty closet one last time. “What about that furry, hot pink thing?”

“Oh, you mean the jacket I impulse bought with the birthday boy?” You laugh thinking back to that day. It was the day you first met Scott before filming. We were only supposed to go out for lunch, and damn near bought out the whole plaza!

“Yeah, that one! That could be cute.”

“With my black, skin tight leather pants…”

“Your black, sheer and lacy corset top…”

“And the black knee highs to top it off!” You two say simultaneously making you giggle like school girls. You settle into a comfortable silence as you pull out the pieces of your outfit.

“I missed this— these moments with you, big sis. Laughing, being silly— “

“Talking about boys,” she finishes for you. You roll your eyes, but smile in agreement as Lynn continues. “Me too… god, why’d we both have to be successful?” she says mockingly, making you both laugh again.

“Honestly, the real question is why'd you have to move to Boston?” You asked a lot less like an inquiring adult and more like a pouting toddler.

It’s Lynn’s turn to roll her eyes as she sighs deeply. “You sound like dad.”

“You’ve got some nerve,” she starts in a playful tone. “You’re literally the one who is never in one city for more than a day. You being here for these months is unprecedented.” It’s true; your touring schedule made it where you’d been any- and everywhere, except with family as of late.

“Now who sounds like dad.”

“Sorry, but you opened yourself up for it!”

You huff out a sigh, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Lynn hopped up from the bed and headed for the door, “Uh-huh. I’m gonna warm up the car. Be down in 20.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“I wasn’t asking. I was instructing.”

“And I oop— she said she’s being a big sister tonight!” you laughed out as you turned around to start getting dressed, hair and makeup already done. Lynn began to leave the room, rolling her eyes at you not taking her seriously.

Suddenly, you were met with a pillow to the back of your head. “What the hell!” The sound of your sister running down the hall and laughing maniacally fill the house. “Hey! Not the curls!” you yelled after her, closing the door.

Just then your phone vibrated with a FaceTime call. You went over to it on the dresser and tapped the screen to answer, the view fixed on the ceiling. The screen filled with a visibly excited Scott, his face a little red from excitement, face a little sweaty from dancing. There was music and loud chatter on his end. Shit! He’s already there! I’m late! “Heeelllooooo? Anybody there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” you peek one eye into the frame, “I’m getting dressed. What’s up?”

“What’s up is that everybody is here, and you are not,” he tapped his camera for emphasis.

“I’ll be there soon. Beauty takes time, ya know!” Each sarcastic word accented with a huff and jump to get in your tight pants. “Whew!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Scott’s eyes peered with genuine curiosity as he sipped a fruity drink.

“I already told you I’m getting dressed.”

“It takes all of that?”

“Listen, as the great philosopher Beyoncé once said, ‘if you don't jump to put jeans on, baby, you don't feel my pain!’ Ok?”

Scott laughed, “OK, yes ma’am!”

“So… who all is there?” Scott knows just what you're asking; if Chris is there.

Chosing to play dumb and not give you defenitive answer, Scott asks. “Is there anybody in particular you’re looking forward to seeing?”

“More like who I’m not looking forward to seeing…” you mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” You said for a quick cover, Scott giving you a knowing look. “You know I’m looking forward to seeing your ‘Ma’; I love that y’all call her that. It’s so New England!”

Scott chuckles, “She’s looking forward to seeing you too. She calls you her ‘lovely lunch buddy’.” Being close with Scott on set meant that you’d gotten to meet his mom. She’d taken a liking to you after joining you and Scott for lunch one day, and started joining you as often as she could.

“Awwww, she’s too sweet! I’m gonna let you go now; I gotta finish getting cute for her.”

“Only her?” Scott said with a smirk. Please… Chris could kiss my a—

“Only her. I’ll see you later Scott, and happy birthday for the gazillionth time!”

“Thanks love, see you later!”

With one last fluff of your fro, pop of your lipstick, and once over in the mirror, and you felt ready. Collecting your phone and bag, you headed out for the night.

——————————————————————————

“Sooo....” Lynn turned the down the music as she drove. “How do you feel about possibly seeing you-know-who tonight?” The eyeroll and groan that escaped you were almost involuntary. “What?! It wouldn’t be far fetched; it IS his brother’s birthday.”

“I know, but… do we have to talk about him? I just wanna have a good time tonight,” you whined, throwing your head back on your seat.

“You already know the answer to that.” You let out a long sigh. You hadn’t seen Chris since your game night tell-off a few weeks back, and as much as you tried to forget about him and how you lost your cool, not talking about it was starting to gnaw at you, especially knowing it was only a matter of time before you saw him again. “So, how are we feeling?”

“I…” you took a breath, “I can’t help but feel annoyed! Like, sure I ignored his apology attempts, but he’s the one that passed unfounded judgments on ME. How the hell does that make me a diva? God I hate that word! You know how that word just triggers me,” Lynn nods in response, letting you continue. “And you know what's the most annoying part of it all?”

‘What?”

“Mackie and Scott talk about him incessantly. How smart he is, how caring he is, how fun he is. I mean, I saw it, when we met in New York. But I haven't seen it since. We’re their friends, so I get what they're trying to do, but at some point, like, give it up. It’s obviously not working, nor will it ever.” You let out a sound of frustration, “I don’t know what to do. Do I keep it to myself for the sake of our mutual friendships, or—”

“Be the diva he thinks you are?” You know Lynn is joking, but that’s not a bad idea… I mean, he already thinks it of me, might as well have some fun with it… Lynn looks over to see you mischievously smiling into the Boston night and she begins to fear for the idea she’s just given you. “Oh God,” she mutters.

You look at her with a goofy grin and shrug. “What?” you try to say innocently.

“C’mon! Don’t actually consider that! Look, you weren’t expecting to see him last time, and that’s probably why it didn’t go so well. But now that you are, you can show up as the composed, level-headed woman I know is somewhere in that thick, thick skull of yours.” You give her no indication that you’ll heed her advice and she can tell. “Fine, just don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she half laughs out.

The car comes to a stop in front of the venue and you check the time. 30 minutes after the invitation time, not TOO bad. You arrived at Majesty’s, a unique, swanky lounge in a trendy area of Boston you’ve never been before. I’ll have to come back and explore sometime. You lean over to give your sister a quick hug, thanking her for dropping you off, then briskly make for the curbside entrance, needing to escape the nippy Boston air.

Once inside, you’re warmed by neon lights that illuminate the otherwise dim room. To your right is a full-service bar with a plethora of drink options on the wall behind it. Tables staggered up the middle of the room lead to a medium sized dancefloor just before a stage. Velvet curtains hang at the back wall behind a neon sign of the venue's logo. The place is packed. It is Saturday night after all. Music and conversation buzz around you as you scan the room looking for your friends.

“Hi there!” a cheery hostess approaches, her face beat to the gods, making you wish you’d opted for more makeup yourself. “Here with Scott Evans’ party?”

“Yeah! How’d you know?” She gives you a weird look, as if to say, ‘you're joking, right?’. It dawns on you that she knows who you are, hence why she knows who you’re here to see.

“Right…” It’ll be awhile before I get used to people recognizing me.

“HeeeEEeey!! There she is!” You hear Mackie’s voice but aren’t sure where it’s coming from. The hostess points up to a balcony where Mackie is hanging over the railing, flailing his arms to get your attention.

The hostess escorts you to your party, leading you through the tables on the main floor. The walk there is spent with her talking about how “tonight is like the Oscars” because she’s “never seen so many big stars in one place” but she assures you she “isn’t a creepy fan” and that there’s a no recording policy for guests’ privacy. You smile and nod politely, but you’re not fully listening to her. You’re too in your head wondering if one of those “big stars” is Chris. You’re led up a staircase near the dancefloor that takes you to a roped off VIP balcony area where you can overlook the entire venue.

You give hello’s to the people in the section; some you know from set, but most are Scott’s longtime friends you’ve never met. Feeling a bit shy, you look for a familiar face when Mackie pulls you into a bear hug. “How ya doing, Kid? I’m glad you came out tonight!” You could be reading too far into it, but it feels like he means ‘glad you came despite the possibility Chris will be here.’ You suppress your urge to give a look of disdain and just smile and avert your gaze around the section. You notice that Chris isn’t there, or at least not yet, and you’re not sure if that makes you uneasy or not. Relax girl.

You still haven’t decided on what your disposition towards Chris will be tonight, but needed to choose quickly to get in the right headspace. Before you could process what was happening, you were whisked up into a hug by Lisa. Shit. I can’t be salty to him with his mother here. She’s so sweet. Ugh, guess it’s decided.

“How’s my lovely lunch buddy doing?” she asks with a genuine smile and kind eyes.

You chuckle at the title she’s given you. “I’m doing great! How are you?”

“Better now that you’re here! Now we can get this party started!” She does a “raise the roof” motion with her hands as she bobs her head causing you to raise your brows. It would be a sure way to embarrass her children, but just makes you laugh. “I should stop before the birthday boy kicks me out,” she laughs out.

“Where is Scott by the way?”

“Oh, he should be around here somewhere...” she scans the section, squinting her eyes with her index finger tapping her upper lip. “There he is!” she points to a corner on the other side. You follow her finger to see a glittery Scott, adorned in a birthday hat and sash. He’s in conversation with a brown-haired woman, the pair laughing and slapping their knees.

As you approach, you notice someone else on the velvet cushion with them, but not at all in the conversation. Sat next to them is Chris, eyes fixed on you, expression blank. It was a matter of time. You tense up, clenching your jaw and holding his gaze.

When you reach them, you embrace Scott. “You look great!” he compliments your outfit and you give a couple poses to show it off.

“Thanks, it’s just a lil somethin’, somethin’ I threw together! Remember this jacket?”

“Yeah! You blew, what? Like, eight hun—”

“Shhh…” you stop him before he could blow up your spot, “Let’s not talk about it. Not the best show of my judgement.” Everyone laughs, except Chris who just scoffs and shakes his head unamused, making your laughter dissipate.

“We all have those moments of weakness. Hi, I’m Shanna,” she greets with a handshake.

“Yes, she is my youngest, and this is my other son Chris. Chris honey, this is—“

“We’ve met, Ma,” he offers a fake but polite smile, one you just know he wouldn’t have if his mother wasn’t right there.

“Oh, really? When?” There’s a beat of silence that’s only uncomfortable for you and Chris as you both go through your brief, sordid history silently.

“At an industry thing not too long ago,” you offer, not meeting Chris’ eyes.

“Of course, I often forget that that world is even smaller than the real world,” Lisa chuckles. “I hope he was on his best behavior!” Chris looks up at you in panic, a look that says you wouldn’t rat me out to my mom, would you? You know she’s only joking, but the opportunity is too good to pass up on.

“Well, actually,’ you turn to Lisa as she looks at you quizzically, “He’s quite the rascal on the dancefloor; get a couple of Stella’s in him, could out dance the Rockettes!” the group laughs heartily, clearly knowing the truth of your words. Chris laughs nervously but is slightly relieved you didn’t reveal the truth of his behavior towards you since you two met. “But he’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman,” you say, looking at Chris with a facetious smile. He’s clenching his teeth into a pained smile himself.

“Really?” Scott says, ready to call you on your BS, “‘cos game night was kinda… intense. Or am I remembering it wrong?”

“Well, a little trash talk never hurt anybody,” Chris states while sipping his drink. And just like that, a silent pact was made between the two of you; to be cordial for the sake of all involved. Maybe there’s no need for the diva disposition after all…

“Right…” Scott is unconvinced, but is too in party mode to press on. Turning to you now, Scott asks, “How’s the soundtrack stuff coming along?”

“So great! I actually just got the final mix for the song I did with Miguel in New York, and I gotta say, it smells like a hit!”

“Oooo! And I bet it is! You’re literally a hit machine, am I right?” Shanna hits Chris’ arm seeking endorsement from him. He just raises his brows and shrugs as if to say, ‘yeah, sure, whatever’.

Scott isn’t amused by his brother’s disinterest. “Oh, don’t act so unimpressed! She’s literally an award-winning artist! Just the other day, you were literally—”

“Ok, Scott, that’s.... sheesh,” Chris interrupts what sounds like would’ve been a great story. “It’s not that, just that I don’t believe in creating to get awards; I believe you should create for the love of it.”

“I agree,” you chime in. “Even though I put my art out into the world for consumption, it doesn’t make or break me if others applaud it or not. What’s most important is that I do.”

“But you gotta admit it feels good,” Shanna taunts with a grin.

“Sure... but, I don't know… I love what I do so much, I'd do it even if no one gave a damn. Hell, I have for years! Only recently the recognition started rolling in. And, not to sound self-loathing or anything, but it’s been… a challenge dealing with it all. I kinda miss the days when nobody knew my name.”

Lisa nudges Chris with her elbow, “She sounds like you.” He was thinking the same thing. “How’s filming going? You guys are on Harvard campus, right?”

“Mostly, yeah. It’s kinda funny being back at a college. I kinda forgot what it was like, but memories of those years have just been flooding back.”

“All those fond memories of studying coming back to ya, huh?” Chris digs. Walked into that one.

Before you could form a petty rebuttal, Mackie called Chris over. Soon after, Shanna and Lisa excuse themselves, leaving you and Scott in the corner.

Scott checked his phone for the time, “Ooo it’s almost time for my performance!”

“Performance?”

“Yeah there’s lip syncing!”

“Lip syncing? Not karaoke?”

“I asked that too. Apparently the owner was tired of hearing drunk people screech and butcher songs.”

“Understandable. What are you gonna perform?”

“I’m thinking ‘Birthday’ by Selena Gomez, but then there’s also ‘Birthday’ by Katy Perry, so I’m torn.”

“Both great choices! And I’m fully prepared to join you for either, do a little back up, whatever you need.”

“Uh-uh, nope.”

“Whaa— why not?” you put your hands on your hips.

“Because you’re a professional performer. You will get up there and literally intimidate anyone else from giving it a try and having some fun.” A pout was all you could muster as a response. “Oh don’t look at me like that! You know it’s true. Take a backseat tonight, ok?”

“Fine, whatever.” It wasn’t fine, but you did want to keep a low profile tonight. Performing would be the exact opposite of that.

“Thanks, love!” Scott gave you a hug, which you didn’t reciprocate out of feigned annoyance. “So, what the hell was that? With you and Chris?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, hoping he’d drop it.

“Well, I know that you two had some... words, and you’re not super fond of him even though you won’t say it out loud, and—” he paused to collect his confusion. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. Tonight isn’t about you two acting hella weird towards each other. Tonight is about my favorite people coming together and enjoying being around each other. Even if they’re faking it.”

“Yes, exactly!” relieved you don’t have to talk about it any further.

“Wanna know something?” You slightly raise your brows. “The other day, I caught Chris not just listening, but dancing to your music. I mean full on rocking out to it!” Scott laughs.

Your face heats up at the thought, but you play it off like you don’t care. “So?”

“So, you’ve obviously been on his mind. And if I know my brother, I think he wants to make things right but doesn’t know how. He may just be nervous.” You just sigh and look over to Chris and Mackie across the way, roughhousing one another and laughing. If he was nervous, it’s not like you made it any easier with your actions toward him. “He’s a good man. Silly, and sometimes stupid, but good nonetheless.” Maybe we did just get off on the wrong foot…

Some of Scott’s other friends pull him into conversation, and you make your way to the bar to get some libations to sort out your thoughts.

——————————————————————————

“And that’s when I said ‘Sis, what are you doing?’” The group crowded around drinks laughed at Jaden’s story from set, something about how you got stuck under some bleachers or something. Chris wasn’t listening. He’d long tuned out the cringey storyteller. Instead, his attention was with where you were with his mother across the way, deep in conversation.

You sat with your legs crossed, hands moving around animatedly. Chris looks you up from the heels of your knee highs, to your shiny leather clad thighs, your lacy corset that leaves just enough to the imagination and shows off your collar bone, any man’s subconscious weakness. Goddamn.

“Careful of those wandering eyes,” Chris turned to see Mackie handing him one of the two beers in his hands.

“I don’t remember asking for this.”

“It’s to quench your obvious thirst.” Mackie motions his head in the direction Chris had been staring for the past 15 minutes; in your direction.

Chris rolls his eyes. “I’m not ‘thirsting’ over her,” he takes a sip of the drink, “and I think you’ve been hanging out with those kids on set a little too much.”

“Maybe,” Mackie chuckles, taking a sip himself, “but you know I’m not wrong.”

“She’s not even my type.”

“‘Your type?’ Since when do you have a type?”

“I have a type,” Chris tries to defend himself. “Kind, humorous, humble…”

“She’s literally all of those things!” Chris just offers him a side-eye in response. “Look, I don’t know what happened between New York and now—”

“Cos nothing really happened! So what, we had a good time when we hung out once. Means nothing. Not to me, and obviously not to her.”

“You couldn’t be further from the truth my man.” Chris looks from Mackie to you. “She’ll surprise you if you let her.” I hoped she would.

——————————————————————————

“Ladies and gentleman!” A loud voice, booms from the PA system, commanding everyone’s attention. You, Lisa, and everyone in your section approach the railing to look down to the stage where a spotlight had been cast on the speaker. “Here at Majesty’s, we don’t karaoke. We don’t want to hear you drunk motherfuckers screech!” The crowd erupts in laughter, but you look over to Lisa to see if the language offended her. She doesn’t seem to mind as she’s laughing along with ever else.

“At Majesty’s,” the speaker walks around dramatically motioning their hands like a magician's assistant, “We perform, we put on a show, we lip sync like you’ve never seen before!” There’s a chorus of claps, cheers, and ‘yass queen’s.

“We have a special birthday performance by the birthday boy himself! Everybody give it up for Scott Evans!!!” Your section filled with Scott’s friends and family go crazy cheering him on. I wonder what song he decided on.

Come and put cha name on it, put cha name on it

Come and put cha name on it, ya name

Don't chu wanna put ya name on it, put cha name on it

Come and put cha name on it, bay-bay-bay-bay-uh

“Oh my goodness! He would!” Scott surprised everyone with ‘Birthday Cake’ by Rihanna, and you have to say, he did it justice. Ansel and Jaden are his back up, twerking and being silly hype men. You look around to see everyone in hysterics and cheering, enjoying the clownery and having a good time.

In your scan of the section, you notice Chris standing beside you. You admire his profile; the way his eyes scrunch up when he smiles genuinely, the lucious length of his lashes, the sharp angle of his nose, the slack of his jaw when he brings his beer to his plump lips. Before he poured the liquid in his mouth, he looked at you from the corner of his eye, the corner of his mouth quirking up around the neck of the bottle. You whip your head back to the stage below, kicking yourself for getting caught. You can’t bring yourself to look at him, but his cheeks take on a slight rosy hue.

When Scott’s performance is over, everyone cheers and claps for the guest of honor, who takes his center stage bow and makes his way back to the section.

You and Chris look at one another, both of you mid smile, gazing at each other. Your smiles fade and you clear your throat, readying yourself to speak, although unsure of what to say.

“That was...”

“Yeah, it was…”

“Cool…”

“Entertaining even…”

“Uh huh.”

“Yep.”

You both stand there awkwardly. You’re looking everywhere but at Chris, while Chris is rocking back and forth on his heels, swinging his hands in front then behind himself.

“What a riveting conversation we’re having,” you joke, hoping to loosen up the tension.

It seems to work because Chris breathes out a light laugh before testing some humor himself. “Going better than our last conversation, that’s for sure.” He peeks at your expression tentatively to see if the joke landed, and it seems so by the small smile you offer him.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” is all you could think to say. A lull enters your exchange again, but this time it feels a little less rigid, but still not comfortable or cozy. You both have the same idea to interrupt the quiet with a start of a sentence, then share a laugh for simultaneously speaking.

“Ladies first,” he says.

“No, you can. I don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Well, if we were thinking the same thing, you were probably gonna start with ‘I’m sorry…’,” he punctuated with a smile.

You, however, are not smiling. Your face is contorted in complete confusion. “What exactly should I be apologizing for?”

Now Chris is confused. Your face and your tone say that you are serious. He’s searching your face for any sign of humor, and when he doesn’t find any, says, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe for acting all high and mighty like you’re too good for a peace offering?”

“There wouldn’t need to be a peace offering if you weren’t judgemental in the first place!”

“Maybe, but my judgments weren’t wrong. You parade around like you’re queen of everything!” You glare at him as he continues his tangent. “‘OOooooOoO look at me, I’ve won a bunch of statues for my poppy-pop songs and spend my money on fufu jackets, but also don’t look at me cos I’m kinda awkward and might turn to putty at any given second.’” He mocks you in a high pitched, “woman” voice.

You scoff at his foolery and to feel enraged by his stupidly silly drunken display. “First of all, I do not talk like that!”

“Yeah, ok.”

“And secondly, I’m not about to apologize for being proud of my accomplishments that I worked really fucking hard to achieve. I’m not afraid to clap for my damn self. We can’t all be overly-humble and self deprecating and blessed with the ability to be great with everybody. I refuse to shrink myself for anyone any longer!”

‘Any longer’? What’s she mean by that? Chris’ expression softens, as does yours. You’ve realized that you've once again been brought out your box, by a practical stranger no less. The two of you share similar expressions; anger tinged with a bit of hurt. Before either of you could say anything else, not that either of you wanted to, a commotion coming toward the two of you takes your attention away from the heated moment.

Scott is making his rounds through the section, receiving celebratory high fives, kisses, and smacks on the ass. “That was incredible dear!” Lisa punctuated with kisses all over her his face, causing you to laugh at the affection she showed her grown son.

“Ok, ok, thanks Ma!” Scott said, removing his mother’s hands from either side of her face. As he proceeded to wipe off the lipstick from his face, he turned to Chris. “Bro, are you gonna go up there?”

“Nah, just gonna hang back tonight,” Chris says, sounding defeated.

“What? Why? You love karaoke!”

“This isn’t karaoke. Besides, I’m not really feeling it tonight.” That sounds a lot like what you told him as an excuse to leave the game night. You felt like he was baiting you. To bite or not to bite? That is the question. After some intense and uncomfortable pouting from Scott, Chris caved. “Maybe, and that’s a hard maybe!” Chris slurred and gesticulated as he said so.

Satisfied and then distracted, Scott wandered off to his other party guests, his mother following closely behind him. You, however, feeling particularly petty, were not satisfied with his answer. “Too cool for this, are you?” You instigate.

Chris scoffs and swigs his beer, eyes fixed ahead. “Why don’t you go up there? You’re supposedly a big shot rockstar,” you roll your eyes at the title, “and I’ve yet to see what you can do.” A lie, but only he knows that.

You narrow your eyes at him. “I would, but I’ve been told I can’t because I’m a ‘professional’ and will ‘intimidate’ others from having fun, so, whatever…” you say, mocking Scott’s request.

“Yep… sounds about right.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” The liquor made you bold, but Chris barely bats an eye at your brutish behavior. He only winks and walks away. You find yourself trying to manage the butterflies that arise at his slight act, the fluttering cutting through your irritation. What the hell body! We’re not supposed to feel this way towards him!

As you watch Chris disappear down the stairs, there’s a hand on your shoulder that you harshly shrug out of. You turn around to face the offender, but soften at the confused face you meet. “Oh, Lisa. I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. Not unless you’ve got eyes in the back of your head,” she chuckles. “Are you ok, darling? You look… pissed.”

You lightly laugh, “Yeah… no… I mean yes, I’m fine.”

Lisa looks at you with an eyebrow raised, unconvinced. “Uh huh… I won’t push only because it’s a party, but I want you to know you can tell me anything that troubles you.” Even if it’s your son? You nod, knowing she’s sincere. “So, Scott said that you all are free on Monday.”

“Yep, first full free day in a while!”

“Great! Well, I wanted to invite you to the art museum with me on Monday. There’s a new exhibit opening up and seniors and friends get a special viewing. What do ya say?”

“Aw, I’d love to, Lisa! What’s the—“

“Guys, gals, and non-binary pals! May I have your attention again!” Everyone returns to the railing to look at the host on the stage downstairs. “Our next performer is somewhat unsuspecting, however, a Boston boy through and through. Says he’s a huge fan of the Patriots,” there’s some “woops” for the home team, “and a big fan of singing some Billy Joel…”

“No, he’s not!” you look at Lisa confusedly, as she covers her mouth.

“Who’s not?”

“…and goes by the name of ‘Sassy Cevans’…” the host continues.

“Oh yes he is!” Scott says from your left, inexplicably giddy.

“WHO IS?!” Your question has yet to be answered as the song's guitar riff ripples through the venue. The performer explodes onto the stage, back to the crowd, air strumming along. They turn around as the first lyrics come in and your question is answered, but now you have so, so many more. What in the hell??

Part 5 cont.

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans x y/n #slow burn series #chris evans x you #chris evans one shot #chris evans series #chris evans x black reader #chris evans fan fic #chris evans fan fiction

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yikesharringrove · 4 years

Note

Billy seeing Steve at one bad after they’ve been broken up about 3 months and keep staring at him because he looks so good, especially with those tight jeans on. He sees him with some random guy after a while and gets jealous so he goes to them acting like he’s still dating Steve. Steve would be confused and mad, so he takes Billy to the bathroom and is all like ”you can’t do that we’re broken up” but well.. ofc it leads to sex. Steve gets needy to get that dick in him after so long.

This is an ass-load of angst and then smut.

Ao33333

“I’m just sick of you fucking moping.”

It had been months since he and Steve had broken up. And Billy was still sad about it. He and Steve had moved in together after high school, had moved out to L.A. It was going well, until Billy lost his job, and got depressed and angry and in a fit of rage had dumped Steve.

And immediately realized it was the worst decision he had ever made.

But Steve was hurt and angry. Billy had promised him forever, and then had kicked him out. So he had ignored all of his phone calls, he cried all over Robin’s couch for a few weeks, had started getting shitfaced and going to clubs and going home with random guys. Robin pretty much had to stage an intervention for him after he ended up in San Diego after two days of full coked-up blackout. So he moved out of her place. Wasn’t answering her calls now. So she had started showing up at Billy’s place, trying to get him to talk to Steve.

“I’m not moping.” Billy was sitting on the couch, where he had been planted for weeks. He got a new job, working as a prep cook in a kitchen, coming home late at night and crashing out with a bottle of cheap vodka.

“Look, Steve won’t talk to me anymore. He won’t answer the door when I knock. He moved in with some guy he’s been fucking.”

“He’s, he’s living with someone?” Billy’s eyes were wide, starting to well up. “He’s moved on?” Robin looked about four seconds from tearing her hair out.

“No. He’s sad and angry and was sick of me telling him to stop going on fucking benders, and moved in with a random fucking guy that he’s not even dating, who said, and I quote: I like it when he cries while we’re fuckin’. He has not moved on.” Billy was chewing on his bottom li.

“He’s not gonna talk to me.”

“He might.”

“No, Robin. He fucking hates me. And for good fucking reason.” She huffed.

“God. I’m sick over you both.” She slammed the apartment door as she left.

So Billy got himself up, and went to the dive bar out by his work, figured maybe it was time to, not cry over Steve in his bed.

He sitting at the bar, nursing a scotch when he heard it, heard that giggle.

His head whipped around. He saw Steve, leaning against the bar, talking to some guy. Steve’s back was to him. He was wearing something slutty, little shorts and a sheer crop top. He looked thinner, but that ass was still perfect, his legs still gorgeous. His hair was a little longer when the guy reached out to tuck a piece behind his ear.

But Billy was still in tune with Steve’s body, could read the way his shoulder tensed when the guy touched him. Could hear the way Steve’s voice wavered when the guy moved closer and dipped a hand in his back pocket. Billy was up and moving to Steve’s side before he even knew what was happening. He slid an arm around Steve’s waist, planting a kiss to his head.

“Hey, Baby. Sorry I’m late. You know how work is.” Steve’s eyes were wide, and he looked pissed. “Who’s your friend?” He stared down the guy, making sure to grin sharply.

“Sorry, didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” The guy rolled his eyes slinking away. Steve pushed Billy off him.

“What the fuck?” Steve was all righteous fury, eyes glossy.

“I could tell you were uncomfortable.”

“That’s not something you get to tell anymore, Hargrove. Why does it matter if I’m uncomfortable?” Billy just stared.

“You were gonna fuck him despite the fact you obviously wanted to bolt?” Steve nodded like Billy was stupid. Billy pulled him by the wrist, tugged him into the bathroom. Locked the door behind them.

“Jesus Christ, Steve. I get that you’re upset but you’re really worrying everyone. Especially Robin.” Steve pushed him back again.

“No. You dumped me. You don’t get that I’m upset. You don’t get that you were supposed to be it for me, the one person that didn’t leave. And them you did. You left. So you don’t get it.” Steve had tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Pretty Boy. I’m not trying, not trying to get you back. I just, take care of yourself. For fuck’s sake, stop going on fucking benders and fucking random dudes you’re gonna end up dead.” Steve was leaning against the sink, his arms crossed over his chest. Billy sighed. “You don’t have to forgive me, or take me back, but stop doing this to yourself.”

“I don’t, why do you care?”

“Because, I’ve never loved anything like I love you, Stevie. I always have, and even though I fucked up, I still do, and it’s killing me that you’re doing this.” Steve lip was trembling, he grabbed the front of Billy;s shirt and pulled him into a rough kiss.

Billy’s hands went around his waist, pulled him tightly into his chest, pushed his tongue into his mouth. He pressed Steve against the sink, lifted him to sit on it. He settled between Steve’s legs.

“Fuck, Bill. I missed you. God, you feel so good.” Steve whined as Billy pressed their hips together, could feel Steve hard against him.

“You’re everything, to me Stevie. I fucking miss you. Miss your body.” Steve was fumbling with Billy’s belt buckle, pawing at the buttons of his fly.

“I want, I want you.” Steve stood up, turned to brace himself on the sink, shoving his shorts down his legs. He handed Billy a condom. “I’m ready. Sometimes the guys don’t wanna, wanna take the time.” Billy pressed a kiss to his neck.

“That makes me so mad, but I want you so fucking badly we’ll talk about this later.” He pushed open his jeans, rolling on a condom.

“Just fuck me, Bill. I miss you, miss your cock.” He was pressing his hips back, trying to egg Billy on. It worked. Just like it always did.

Billy took a hold of Steve’s hips, pressing on in. They both groaned when Billy’s hips pressed flush to his ass. He stood for a second, just feeling Steve around him.

“Fucking move.” Steve swatted behind him at Billy’s hip. Billy pulled out, slamming back in, grinding forward. Steve gasped as he did it again, making him lurch over the sink. His pace was slow, but fucking brutal, slamming in and out of Steve. “You, fuck, you still know, know just how to fuck me. Just how I like it.” Steve was staring at Billy in the mirror over the sink, watching the way he was looking at where they were connected, the way he would furrow his brows and run his hands up Steve’s sides.

He looked paler than Steve remembered, obviously not spending as much time going on shirtless runs, keeping his tan up. But then he bucked his hips just perfectly, slammed into Steve’s prostate. Steve screwed his eyes shut as Billy hit that spot over and over and over.

Billy reached down, took Steve’s cock in one hand, gripped it tightly, flicked his wrist in just that way Billy knew Steve liked. He leaned over him, was breathing in Steve’s ear, kissing at his, was being so soft as he fucked him like he was angry.

He probably was.

“I’m, Bill, I’m close.” Steve breathed, head heavy between his shoulders, watching how Billy was choking his cock while slamming into him. He quickened his pace, pressing with his fingers on under the head of Steve’s cock, new his body so well, new exactly what would send him over. Steve was cumming all over the sink, could feel Billy losing his rhythm, started pressing his hips back, clenching around him. Billy stilled behind him, breathing heavy for a moment before pulling out, tossing the condom. Steve always preferred it without, but even he doesn’t know where he’s been these past few months, didn’t want to give Billy anything.

He collected himself while Billy gently pulled his shorts back up, wrapping his arms around him to fasten them.

“I’m sorry.” Steve practically breathed it out.

“Don’t be. I’m the one that fucked up.” Steve turned around. “I should’ve, should’ve helped you. I saw you struggling and figured you would, like, come to me. I should’ve, I’m just sorry.” Steve’s eyes were still hazy, put he was holding onto Billy’s wrist, pleading with him.

“Pretty Boy, you’ve got nothin’ to be sorry about. I got mad and hurt you.”

“You wanna, you wanna start over? Go grab dinner one night?” Billy smiled.

“On one condition.”

“Honestly, anything.”

“Move back in with Robin. Take care of yourself.” Steve nodded sheepish. Billy tugged him closer, holding his face in both palms, kissing him softly. “You want help getting your stuff?”

“Nah, I’ll just split while he’s at work tomorrow.” Billy barked a laugh, dragging Steve out of the bathroom, getting dirty looks from the people waiting in line. He pulled him outside.

“Call me, we’ll set up dinner.” Steve smiled, kissed Billy’s cheek before hailing a cab. Billy heard him give Robin’s address, breathed a sigh of relief.

#harringrove #yikes writes #steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove fic #harringrove fic;et #harringrove drabble

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blooddrop-palace · 4 years

Note

29 with Dante and Vergil?

(Ooooh alright! Let’s get cracking! )

29. You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?

[Some Context: Post DMC5, no real continuity to anything else.]

Eventually, getting a smart phone became a necessity. Even if it weren’t for the convenience, then it would be for the fact that people treat you like you’re a little bit crazy if you didn’t have one.

At first, Vergil and Dante were in a rare agreement that it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. Eventually, under Morrison’s, Lady’s, and everyone else’s insistence, (especially Nero’s insistence,) they added “cell phone bill” to the list of bills that... admittingly, were a little easier to pay when Vergil could keep Dante “better motivated” to take on work. (There was also the matter of convenience for being able to make trips home quick with the Yamato, though Vergil will insist every time, in some manner, that he was not a taxi service.)

Now, to say that this was a big leap of technology for the Sons of Sparda would be an understatement. Though they were familiar with the existence of cell phones, neither of them owned one until now, and they have completely skipped past about three stages of the evolution of cell phones.

Figuring out the functions of the phone, however, was a different task in itself. Vergil hadn’t really had a need to touch anything keyboard based to begin with. While a touch screen was simple, figuring out where everything was on a keyboard took a bit of practice.

Still, the twins might be dense and stubborn on some things, but they weren’t entirely unable to adapt. At the very least, they understood how to use the messaging and call functions. Anything else, Nico made a big list of functions that, for the most part, the two men found no use for. (Well, for now.)

———————

Nero actually messaged them frequently. More than Nico. At least, as far as Nico was concerned, she has never messaged Vergil.

A few days after they managed to sort out the new phone situation, it was decided that the cell phones were more for the function of keeping in touch with family and friends. Business still had to come through the main line.

And while Vergil was going through some books, he froze when his phone vibrated.

He was still getting used to having this bothersome little contraption on his person. They fact that it made noise and moved (somewhat) while so close to his body made him skittish. He had considered keeping it out on the table but it became clear that he was then liable to forget it.

So his only option was to keep it in his inner coat pocket and learn to get used to it.

Fishing the phone out, he checked it, to find that it was a message from Nero:

> Hey. How are you holding up?

This was curiously cordial, though Vergil could imagine the awkward hesitance in his son’s demeanor. The anger over past transgressions had only been somewhat diffused, but if there was anything Vergil had learnt recently from Dante and Nero both, it’s that he was in a state of “forgiven but not forgotten.”

Because the kin of Sparda has had enough bullshit and would rather have something that resembled family, however long it took for them to become one.

This meant communication was part of it.

So Vergil responded:

Well. <

After a moment of thought, he realized he ought to… say something more.

And you? <

Nero’s response was considerably faster than his:

> Not bad. New phone treating you good? > Maybe I should ask if you’re treating your phone good. > Not broken yet it seems.

He felt a little insulted.

I happen to take good care of my possessions. Unlike my brother. <

> Right

Vergil found that there were both advantages and disadvantages to this type of communication. Though he himself wasn’t openly expressive, the lack of visual cues from the person he’s speaking to made conversation contain a sort of guessing game. But without being under scrutiny, there was no social disrespect for him putting his attention back in his book while there was a lack of immediate response.

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed again.

> The book you left behind is old isn’t it? > Guess there’s no doubt to your words. > Glad to know you’re doing well with the phone. But can you tell Dante to call me back? Or at least text me back? Been trying to get a hold of him for an hour now.

So, that was it. He’s playing second messenger because Dante wasn’t responding.

When he comes back. I will let him know. <

> Cool. Thanks. > Hey, let me know if you ever need anything, k?

By context, Vergil figured Nero meant to say “okay.”

And this was… okay. It was a start.

I will keep that in mind. <

————————

Though when in person, Nero and Vergil sometimes had abrasive encounters, Vergil realized that Nero wasn’t any less argumentative with Dante. Their interactions were simply different.

But often, Nero messaged him about small things, when they were apart. Such as:

Nero

> Nico and I are driving by DMC. You guys want anything?

If it’s food, don’t bring Dante any more pizza. <

> Okay. What about you? Beer or anything?

Dante said yes to beer. <

> Dante always says yes to pizza and beer. I’m asking YOU damnit. > Also tell the old man to text me back himself if he wants anything!

Out of sheer pettiness that day, Nero brought no beer, but a bottle of cheap wine for Vergil.

He was satisfied with it only because Dante whined over preferential treatment.

————————

Kyrie

> Good morning Mr. Vergil! > We were wondering if you and Dante would like to have dinner with us next weekend? > A gathering without impending work, something relaxing for everyone?

It took a long amount of thinking, and Vergil thought carefully about how he couldn’t keep avoiding it. He wasn’t the most comfortable around Nero’s considerably normal family. Even Dante often made excuses to not go, judging from what Vergil had heard about the number of holiday invitations sent to his brother that never received the response of his presence.

A part of Vergil thought that this was not only the time to face the music that came with having family, but also felt somewhat comforted by the fact that if he agreed to this, Dante still had to suffer through the social gathering with him.

I am grateful for your invitation. What time would you like for us to be there by? <

> Dinner will be ready by 6, but you are welcome to arrive earlier to help, or spend some time with Nero? > The children are also curious to meet you and Dante.

Ah, the orphans… well, he had already agreed.

> Of course, I’m not holding your promise as Dante’s agreement. Please let me know if he will be arriving, also? He hasn’t responded to our messages yesterday.

————————

Nero

> Hey uh > I know Dante likes his strawberry sundaes > But what do you like?

I’m partial to something chocolate. <

> Huh. I would have thought you’d say something like blueberry.

I do not believe blueberry is a common topping on a menu. Chocolate is fine. <

> Okay. > What if I’m stopping by a special creamery? Still want chocolate?

Please. <

About half an hour later, Vergil received another message:

> I don’t care if Dante’s predictable, but if he wants his sundae, he should at least RESPOND TO MY TEXTS.

On that day, Vergil learnt what a message in all caps was supposed to mean.

————————

Nico

> Yooooo V-man > hey is Dante alive? > I found something a-maze-ing this morning!! > he might wanna see this. > but like he’s totally bad about responding so like > tell him I’ll be swinging by in an hour. > you might like this, too.

This is a little short notice. <

> Don’t care! > be there soon! > ttyl!

Nico’s messages were a bit harder to understand. For her, Vergil had to learn how to navigate basic search engines.

————————

Lady

> Where’s Dante.

I am not my brother’s keeper. <

> Right. He’s your keeper. > Where is he. He owes me money.

I understand that he has owed you money for quite some time now. < Do not come to me about his debts. < I am not responsible for his lack of good finances. <

————————

It has come to Vergil’s attention that, many times, he was being contacted simply because Dante very rarely responded.

Nero actually used the phone as a means to carry some semblance of contact with Vergil, but ultimately, even he had come to Vergil for the sake of getting Dante on the phone. (Barring that, Nero would simply call the land line. But by that point, it defeated the purpose of a cell phone, didn’t it?)

Today, while Dante was languidly flipping through another one of his tasteless magazines, Vergil decided he had enough of playing messenger.

But he had to do the roundabout thing to prove a point to his brother.

So he opened up the messenger, and found Dante’s message thread. It wasn’t that Dante didn’t use his phone. He’s called a few times. In fact, he seemed to prefer calling over texting. But it was clear that, just like his tendency to leave the shop’s phone unanswered or even unplugged, he was just as terrible about being contacted via cell phone.

Dante

Dante <

After a few seconds, Vergil heard the soft vibration of the message being received. The phone in question appeared to be within Dante’s desk.

And his brother ignored it.

So, a few minutes later, Vergil sent again:

Dante <

Another vibration.

It went ignored again.

What is the point of having a phone if you don’t answer it you imbecile <

This time, not long after Vergil heard the phone vibrate, he said out loud: “Dante. You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?”

His brother finally lowered his reading material, and said: “What? Aren’t we talking right now?”

“No. Stop ignoring your phone.”

“What is there you need to say that you can’t say yo my face?” The teasing retort on his face was anger-inducing.

“That’s not the point. It appears most everyone else has issues getting in contact with you, and I’m done playing messenger. Learn to respond to your messages, or I will not be responsible for the next time you miss something important.”

Dante waved his hand as if batting away an annoying moth. “Eh. If it’s important, it’ll get to me.”

“Because I have been making sure you found out. This ends here, Dante. At the very least, promise that you will answer your phone calls, if messaging is too much for you.”

————————

Nero

> Okay what did you do now > why is Dante messaging me suddenly about sibling abuse.

I have done nothing of that sort. Your uncle is simply being over dramatic after a few stabs from a few summoned swords, for not paying proper attention to his phone. < Next time he does not respond, I am no longer responsible for relaying a message. <

> ...okay > okay you know what sure > no one is dead and maybe this is for the better. > I’m surprised you didn’t go off on him way earlier.

I have suggested to him that if it’s his wont to ignore his messages, he ought to at least answer his phone calls. <

> Gotcha > Blow up his phone with his ringtone not his text tone. > He’d better start answering.

There is no need to blow up anything. But I make no promises on Dante’s ability to respond. <

> hell it’s a figure of speech, dad. > But thanks for trying

————————

Dante

> Hey > Hey Vergil > Hey

I’m upstairs. What seems to be the issue? <

> Holy shit you do respond.

How did you think the others were able to come to me when you didn’t respond to your phone? < Idiot. <

> Okay you know what > You win this round > I didn’t think you were getting so comfy with this phone thing

This wasn’t a competition. < That was meaningless. <

> Fine forget it > Come downstairs > We have a client.

#the only reason vergil's contact list #displays people with their names only #is because he hasn't figured out how to change it yet #otherwise dante would not be just dante in his phone #devil may cry #prompt request #vergil #dante #nero #nico #kyrie #lady #not proofread #wordborne

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goblincas · 3 years

Text

Entry Level Angel | Ch 3

On AO3

Saturday, October 10th:

Charlie tapped Cas's shoulder, urging him forward as another breeze stroked past his skin— his still very desensitized skin. He swallowed, unmoving, eyes drilling into the scene ahead. After waiting another moment, Charlie flicked Cas in the bicep. He flinched out of sheer habit.

“Y’know, this is super important,” Charlie reminded him, using her fingertips to soothe the site of assault. “Like, for your own well-being. Hell, for your life, even. Not to be melodramatic or anything, but it’s not like we have any clue of the severity we’re facing, here.”

She was right, of course— Cas needed help, and he needed it more and more desperately, each passing day. He had almost certainly been cursed. Although, that was right about where the reasonable conclusions slipped off into the abyss, never to be heard from again.

However, if Charlie’s plan was to succeed, Cas was going to have to take some initiative, first. There was nothing productive about standing in place, waiting for the asphalt to swallow both his body and his oh-so stubborn will to live.

Christ, how did Charlie convince herself that she was the “melodramatic” one?

The brick wall ahead was tinged by an earthy green plaster, offsetting the tubular neon lights spelling out “Magical Books ‘n’ Goods” across an otherwise cramped windowpane. Damp autumn leaves clung to the chipping windowsill and the base of an oval-capped doorway. Cas could hardly see inside the low-lit shop, aside from the unassuming profile of a retail bookshelf.

Sure, it wasn’t an especially threatening setup, but he wasn’t exactly coming at the situation from the calmest headspace. Thus, there was an almost menacing ambiance filtering through the shop’s walls, clamoring in Cas’s direction. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been rendered motionless by fear, much like a toddler off to their first day of preschool. Nope, no need for personal responsibility or self-initiative, here. Not today.

Again, Charlie nudged him, although with more pressure than earlier. “Dude, I’m serious. I just know that if anyone’s gonna be able to give us a clue, here, it’s gonna be her. Listen; I get the nerves, okay? And, like, I don’t even expect them to go away when you guys meet. She’s great, but she’s still an acquired taste… if it’s not totally insensitive to say that about another person. But this is important, Cas. I care about you too much to be lax, right now. Got it?”

Cas huffed, blinking slowly. Processing. “What a beautiful speech,” he quipped, continuing to gather his thoughts. Charlie flicked him again, this time on his shoulder. “Fine, okay, I understand. I do. I’m going in.”

Eyes lighting up against the muted autumn backdrop, Charlie thrust a celebratory fist into the air. “Great! Let’s get going, then.”

⁂

The inside of the witches’ specialty shop wasn’t too much unlike a run-of-the-mill small town bookstore, down to the effortless quirks of its layout. Mismatched shelves lined much of the back wall, creating a rich smattering of varying hues and grain around the secondhand spines. The air smelt faintly of chemical cinnamon, hardly able to overcome the musk of the place. Still, the witchy touches were anything but hidden; a line of tables ran down the center of the shop, covered in plastic-wrapped bundles of herbs, jars of unidentifiable glowing substances, and trendy rose gold altars. Wait, was that… an eyeball?

For his own sanity, Cas decided not to overthink it.

Before Cas had the opportunity to turn to Charlie for guidance, a voice jetted through the air, originating from god-knows-where. “Ah, hello there, dearie! Charlie, welcome back! And who is this you’ve brought along with you?” The thick, unmistakably Scottish sing-song seemed to reverberate out of the air, itself. Although hazy at the start, the sound was quick to crispen up.

Shifty eyed, Cas began to peer around the shop, only slightly disturbed by the disembodied words. Truly, it wasn’t as if he’d been expecting a day-to-day, streamlined retail experience. This was about in line with his expectations, so, whatever.

Charlie, bless her, managed to respond with near perfect nonchalance; this calmed Cas, yet somehow, also put him just a bit more on-edge. Well, then. “Hey, Ro! Where are you at? The back? I kinda, really need your help with something. Or, at least, my friend here sure does. Oh, Cas, introduce yourself!”

Cas side-eyed his friend, chewing his lip before replying slowly, seemingly to no one in particular, “Hi, I’m Cas. Um. Nice to meet… you? Yeah, sorry, who am I speaking to?” He was a human, for heaven’s sake; he wasn’t used to this, as expected as it might have been. Witches were certainly avant-garde, Cas could give them that.

Seconds later, a door was pushed open toward the back of the shop; it was encased on both sides by thinner, darker shelves, lined with stones and miscellaneous shiny and slimy tchotchkes. Cas swallowed, taking in the emerging figure.

The woman was surprisingly petite, yet carried herself as if she could crush Cas beneath her pinkie finger, alone. Red hair styled in fat curls poured over the shoulders of her simple black gown. Her eyes seemed to be faintly glowing, and Cas wasn’t certain he was comfortable with that fact, all things considered.

Nonetheless, Charlie was beaming in an instant, giving a short yet enthused wave of her hand. “Hey again, Ro. I know you’re probably busy, and I seriously don’t wanna waste any more of your time than I have to, so I’ll get right down to it. Oh, first— Cas, this is Rowena MacLeod, the spell-casting and lore dictionary, herself.”

Rowena let out a low giggle, the gleam in her emerald eyes only intensifying. Honestly, Cas was convinced that that “gleam” was more than simply a trick of the light.

“Yes, of course! Well, it’s very good to meet you, Cas, dearie,” Rowena said, her voice flowing over Cas like compound butter.

Cas gave a curt nod, unsure if he was meant to lead the conversation from there, but praying that he wasn’t.

To his luck, Charlie continued, “Like I said, I’ll get right down to… it. ‘Cause it’s kinda a lot. Unfortunately,” she said, planting her hands on her hips and entering an inadvertent power pose. “Cas here, just like the unlucky bastard that he is, managed to go and get himself mega cursed. And we have, like, no clue what’s goin’ on. So, first off, we’re gonna need a diagnosis, if you can give us one.”

Pursing her red-painted lips, Rowena hummed, squinting in Cas's direction. Cas fidgeted as the witch glided across the room, the floor creaking and whining beneath her leather heels. Moving in Cas's direction, she continued to scope the young man out.

“Hm? Ach, so… Cas, darling. Mind to expand in place of your friend? This is your tragic curse, after all. I’m sure your first-hand assessment will be more useful to me, here.”

Strangely enough, Cas wanted to contend. While Charlie hadn’t been the one experiencing the bizarro symptoms that past week, she was the witch. This was her specialty, her very domain as their backdrop.

Still, with trepidation, he replied. “It’s not anything bad, necessarily. At least, not painful. Just… very strange.” He sighed. Rowena leaned forward, tipping the weight of her body in Cas's direction. “I spilled hot coffee on myself and wasn’t burnt. No pain, either. I can’t sleep. I haven’t tasted food in a week. Oh, I haven’t slept in a week, either, so I definitely should mention that. Also, once, not too long after this all started, my entire abdomen glowed blue, before I was knocked unconscious for… a few hours, I believe?”

Cas held his breath, anticipating the sharp-eyed witch’s professional assessment. She continued to squint upward, claw-like hands finding their way to her hips.

“Well,” she hummed, after a moment of thought. “That’s certainly… concerning, to put things all too simply. Ah, and— you’re a human, correct?”

“Yeah, I am.” Although, frankly, Cas wasn’t so sure anymore. He certainly didn’t feel like a human, at that point. Surely, a “human” would have dropped dead of exhaustion by then, right?

(Although, it was more likely that Dean was going to be the one to kill him for neglecting his health and safety, if he ever found out. Assuming the curse didn’t get creative and take care of that first, of course.)

Rowena gave a delicate nod, loose curls bobbing with the movement. She straightened herself, leaning just slightly away, and Cas felt the concrete seeping from his own limbs. Wait, when had he gotten so tense?

“I see, I see. Hm…” She clucked her tongue, momentarily turning her gaze toward the tiled ceiling. “You are certainly correct, Charlie, dear. This isn’t a common ailment… how fascinating. That is certainly an unusual combination of, what sounds like, quite powerful and life-altering symptoms. Ach, well…” She trailed off, before reaching out a slender hand and attaching it to Cas's forearm. He lurched, but made sure not to pull away. As much as he loathed people touching him without a lick of permission, he reasoned that it was a sacrifice he’d apparently have to make.

God, he felt like a fucking lab rat, though. A genetic freak of a rodent, caged off from the rest of its whiskered brethren.

“I… have a bit of an inkling, certainly,” Rowena said, nails digging deeper into the flesh of Cas’s arm. She gazed directly into his eyes. “Infernal magic of some sort or another seems likely. Demonic in nature, maybe? Of course, draconic spellwork is still very much a consideration.”

Charlie drew in a breath between her teeth, reaching out from beside Cas and laying a hand on his shoulder. “Woah… not good. Why do you think that?”

To Cas's hardly containable irritation, Rowena let out another giggle, sleek as ever. “Well, you see, dearie, it’s really just a simple process of elimination. The more uncommon the spell or the curse, the more likely it’s outsourced from fringe magic. It’s as simple as that, really.” She drew back her hand, joining her palms together atop her heart. “Of course, we’ll have to do some further investigation to understand what, exactly, is the matter. Now, think of it like a fun little puzzle— in that light, your predicament will feel far less harrowing. Hm?”

As Rowena spoke and Charlie shifted her hand to clutch at the meat of Cas’s bicep, the front door to the shop was nudged open. Cas peaked over his shoulder, watching a golden-haired stranger hop on in— and promptly drift toward the corner shelves. There was no hesitation to his movements, his gait full of pep and bordering on enthusiastic. Still, he didn’t reach out to fiddle with any of the items; he simply stood in place, arms crossed over his chest, facing away from Rowena and company.

“Follow me to the back, now,” Rowena sung, re-seizing Cas's attention. “I’ll dash back out if I’m needed, but for now, privacy would be best.”

Charlie nodded. “Totally, I agree. Cas, you okay with heading back? Do you want me to come with? I can, if you want. Or not. Whatever you need, man.”

Throwing a final glance toward the apparent non-customer, Cas turned to Charlie, eyes pleading. Please. Please don’t leave me alone with her.

Thankfully, his friend got the message. Blessed be

#my writing #destiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #A bit of a rougher chapter... but we're gonna work with it!#my post

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lov3nerdstuff · 5 years

Text

I Found {Part 7}

*Loki x reader*

Part: 7/8

Words: 3.4k

Summary: Loki finds himself stranded in Underworld, a kingdom hidden deep inside a desolate planet. In order to survive, he puts himself in the service of the tyrant king, who promises to give Loki his freedom back if he fulfills one simple task. Loki is to set out and bring the mad king his newest toy: You.

~A dangerous forbidden love. Abduction. Slavery. Tortured conscience. A mad tyrant... Escape?~

Request: A song fic based on 'I found' by Amber Run, requested by @strawberrysandcream

A.N.: This is the second to last part... This is getting exciting! 😁☺️ Hope you all enjoy!

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

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A loud gasp drew Loki from his thoughts, followed by heavy panting that made him rise to his feet in an instant. His eyes fell upon your shaking frame, sitting up in bed as you ran a hand through your sleep tousled hair.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly, walking over to the edge of the bed as his gaze met yours in concern.

"Yeah…" You replied in a breath that shivered just as much as your body did. "Just a nightmare, really…"

"Oh." Was all Loki got out in return, as he fought the urge to reach out and comfort you. That surely would've been highly inappropriate…

"I… I fell asleep as we hugged, didn't I?" You asked quietly and with a tone subtly laced with embarrassment. It made Loki's heart clench.

"Don't worry about it, really. I'm sure you must've had an exhausting day." He said, while what he really wanted to say was how much he had enjoyed you falling asleep on him indeed.

"I'm sorry though. Wasn't very appropriate to impose myself onto you like that…"

"You really didn't. And I… I enjoyed it, actually." Loki managed to say, allowing himself to be honest with you for once. His heart made a leap as you blushed ever so slightly, then bit your bottom lip and smiled a little.

"Yeah, I… enjoyed it as well. Very much. I just really needed some comfort, some warmth… to feel safe for once, you know." You shrugged with a reluctant smile.

"I do know." He replied quietly, the corners of his lips curling upwards. "It's not easy to find someone to trust in this place."

"Well, I do trust you. So get in bed with me now and let me steal some more warmth from you." You peeked up at him with a small smile and the same faint blush. "If… if that would be alright with you, I mean. Please?"

Despite his admitted reluctance at allowing himself to be close to you, he didn't need you to ask twice now. If you asked of him to be close, he would more than happily oblige. Thus he lifted the covers and laid down next to you, letting the sheer impossible warmth of your body comfort him and scorch his skin at the same time. You certainly didn't need any more warmth from him, that he was sure of… but he didn't question your motives. Maybe you were just as new to this kind of affection as he was, as intimidated by your wish for closeness?

So now he lay still on his back, next to you, waiting for you to show him what exactly you were expecting of him right now. This, to him, was walking on a very thin line already, and he wouldn't dare crossing it without your consent. Your precise wish, even.

"I get the impression that you are the one who is scared of me indeed. Not the other way round." You said then, close to his ear. Loki shivered.

"I'm not scared of you." He replied quietly as he listened to your even breathing. Somehow that calmed him more than he'd expected.

"But you do realize that quite possibly every other, ordinary man would've just taken the opportunity and gotten into bed with me the moment I fell asleep?" You mused, turning onto your side to face Loki.

"I'm no ordinary man, Y/n. I'm a god." He answered calmly, yet not in an arrogant manner. It simply was a fact, and he wouldn't speak anything but the truth to you from this point on.

"Oh, I know that." You smiled. "You're maybe the furthest from ordinary I've ever come to experience. However I wonder if you are repelled by me and therefore stay this far away at all times, or if you are simply being wonderfully polite."

"I am most certainly not repelled by you! That's an odd thought. If I was repelled by you, you wouldn't be here right now and neither would I." He corrected in an instant, frowning at the ceiling. "So you may call it politeness that made me let you sleep in peace."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Politeness." You smiled, and finally Loki turned his head to look at you as well. Gods, you were so close to him… his heart clenched and his stomach was in knots in an instant.

"Can I ask you something serious?" You asked a little more quietly as your eyes dug into his.

"Certainly."

"Are you doing all this because you feel like you ought to, after reaping me, make up for it somehow? Or did you… DO you really enjoy my company?"

"Why would you ask that?" He rose an eyebrow at you, but as you didn't answer, he sighed quietly. "I generally don't feel guilt or remorse for the things I do in order to survive."

"So… you like me for real?"

"Yes, Y/n, I like you for real." He sighed, but couldn't suppress the small smile that came upon his lips. Damn honesty… if you kept on asking these things, he would reveal himself to you to a rather uncomfortable degree. Yet, he couldn't really bring himself to care. If you wanted to know, he'd tell.

"So… if I asked you to hold me right now, as close as you possibly can, in order for me to close my eyes without being scared for my life… would you do it?" You asked almost shyly, with a reluctant expression that was simply heartwarming.

"I'd do anything you ask of me." He replied easily, without the smallest shred of doubt about his statement or your knowing of this fact.

"But would you enjoy it as much as I would?" Your voice was merely a breath now, and another shiver ran down Loki's spine.

"Let's find out, shall we?" He said with another small smile as he let his fingers ghost over your shoulder, down your arm and to your waist. Your breathing hitched as he pulled you against him with a start, arms circling your middle as he held you tightly pressed against his chest. "I certainly do enjoy this, yeah."

You chuckled in reply to that, and the small movements shook Loki's frame along with yours. Yes, he certainly did enjoy this WAY more than you knew. It didn't take you long to fall back asleep then, with Loki drawing soothing circles on your back with his fingers. And for once, Loki fell into an actually peaceful slumber as well, still holding you tightly, safely resting against himself.

The next morning came quickly, and Loki started the fire once more before he conjured up something to eat for breakfast. While you ate, he gave you a detailed summary of the plan he had come up with and a shorter summary of what had happened the previous day. Yet, he elaborated on the part that was yet to come, and the part you would have to play in all of that. By the time he'd finished his explanations, you'd long finished eating and instead moved on to pacing the room.

"Do I really need to do that?" You whined, looking at Loki with a pleading frown.

"I'm afraid so."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because he would see that coming. As would everyone else." Loki sighed. "I'm under constant supervision, and nobody would let me come close to the king."

"But I don't think I can do it." You sighed as well, stopped pacing and instead sat down next to Loki on the bed.

"Have you never stabbed anyone before?" He frowned at you, curious eyes fixed on your blushing face.

"Of course I have stabbed people before! What did you think how I managed to keep from getting caught all these years?" You groaned and hid your face in your hands. "I'm worried about the other thing."

Of course you'd worry about that… it almost made Loki snort to think that killing someone troubled you less than this. But he was equally displeased with the other thing as you were, and he could understand all too well that you didn't want to do it.

"Believe me, I hate this as much as you do…" He said in an attempt to comfort you, but he was interrupted.

"Do you, really?" You snapped, rolling your eyes to yourself. "You're not the one who needs to put on an act and sit in that man's lap, for fuck's sake!

"I'm sorry." He replied quietly, looking down at his hands. "I really wish you didn't have to do that. But there is no way you can get close enough to him without… you know…"

"Yeah." You sighed, making him look up at you again. "I know. I'm sorry for snapping at you… it's not your fault. Your plan is good, great even. I just… don't know how to pretend things like that. I don't know how to distract him well enough to be able to get to a stabbing distance."

"It's alright. I deserve to be snapped at, sometimes." He shrugged, calmly. "And you only need to convince him of your broken spirits. I will do the rest. Even though you might not like that very much. Please, don't believe a single word you will hear from me, it is all means to our goal."

"Yeah, I know… but you're way better at this than me." You mumbled. "I'm not good at playing the little innocent plaything."

"I swear, after this is all over, nobody will touch you ever again without your consent." He spoke before thinking, but yet meant every word. A small smile came onto your lips for a moment, but then passed again.

"But first, I need to actually do the things we're plotting here." You sighed. "I'm no good at this for real. I don't know how to be seducing, how to make him fall for me. How does one do that?"

Just like you did with me… He thought, but luckily didn't speak his mind.

"I'm sure you're not half as bad as you believe. It's all a matter of pretense, and knowing how to play people. I can give you some basics, that may help… Firstly, keep looking down to the ground, that will make them think you're submissive. Secondly, don't cross your arms over your chest, that gives away your refusal. And thirdly, only speak when spoken to, and end your sentences with some ridiculous term like 'your majesty'. He'll like that." He frowned as he spoke, stomach twisting at the thought of you having to do this. Of him having to teach you such thing in the first place.

"I think I can do that…" You managed giving Loki a half smile. "But how do I get close enough to stab him? And where should I stab him?"

"Go for the throat, that's the quickest and least difficult." He spoke as he conjured up one of his favorite daggers. "You need to distract him though, before going for his blood."

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?" You rolled your eyes with a sigh. "That's what I am horrible at! They tried to teach me, but I tried my best to be bad at it."

"Well, try your best to be good at it now! You can do it, Y/n, I'm certain of that." Loki shrugged and held out the dagger to you. "Here, take it and try."

"What?" You stared at him in irritation, frowning as you took the dagger indeed.

"Practice. If you would like to, that is… You said you feel safe with me. So I… I just thought it might make it easier for you to try it on me." He gave you a small smile that was meant to be somewhat reassuring.

"You want me to stab you?" You rose an eyebrow at him.

"Well, not REALLY… only a little."

"Stab you 'a little'?" You couldn't help but smirk at him, and Loki felt proud for successfully making you smile. That was all he could do for you, really… try to help you feel more at ease with the whole thing, while he himself wasn't feeling any less disgusted by the prospect of affairs.

"You don't have to, of course. I just thought… nevermind."

"No, I… I think it's a good idea. You could give me some tips, and see if I'm convincing enough. Let's see if I can distract you enough to stab you 'a little'." You smiled at him for a moment, making his heart skip multiple beats, before you got off the bed and hid the dagger in your dress. "Just pretend like you know nothing of my intentions, alright?"

Nodding, Loki moved to sit on the edge of the bed without another word. This would be awkward, or at least rather unfair in comparison to the real situation, for Loki was fairly certain that it wouldn't need much from you to distract him. Hel, he was distracted by your eyes on him alone!

"So… should I keep looking at the ground, or look at you?" You asked, drawing him out of his already very much distracted mind, as you stood at the opposite wall.

"Come closer first, then look up when you're standing right in front of me." He replied calmly, forcing his mind to focus. This was meant to be helpful to you, after all. You did exactly as he had said, only better than he had expected, looking up at him through your lashes so innocently that his heart skipped yet another beat.

"And now?" You asked quietly.

"Well, I… He… would ask you to sit."

"And I will do that?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"With as much elegance as you can manage." He replied, but as you still looked at him quite lost, he sighed. "Here…" Reluctantly, carefully, he reached for your right hand and found that you let him without hesitation. Slowly he placed your hand on the side of his own face, gently tracing it down to his neck where he let it linger. "This is both distracting and allows you to subtly search for the pulse point. Now, kneel above me."

"What?" You frowned, but kept your hand resting on his neck, gentle fingers caressing his skin almost unintentionally.

"You've got your right hand on me already, so use it to pull yourself, or me, closer. Gently. Right knee next to my thigh, upper body leaned back and hips forward, then your left knee on the other side. But don't sit down just yet, just kneel over my lap and merely look at me."

"Like this…?" You frowned, trying to follow his instructions without falling over or making a complete fool of yourself.

"No, not like that. You look like you're thinking too much. And you move like you're thinking too much."

"Well, I am thinking quite a bit to follow your instructions!" You groaned, kneeling above him as you rolled your eyes, looking down at his frowning face.

"Do it again." He ordered calmly. "And try to pretend that I'm someone you actually want to seduce with what you're doing here. It's all in your head… If you can pretend now, you can do it tomorrow as well."

"I am trying to pretend!" You whined as you got off the bed and off Loki's lap to stand a few feet back once more, readying yourself for a second attempt.

"Yes, you're trying to pretend to me that you're enjoying it. But that's only the second step, while you're missing the first. You need to pretend to yourself that you're enjoying it, that you WANT to seduce me. Or him for that matter." Loki explained as neutrally as he could. "Try thinking of a situation in which you might actually want to do this."

You took a deep breath, closed your eyes for a second, checked if the dagger was still in place, and finally looked back at Loki. "What happens after I kneel over you? I… I wanna try without talking in between."

"Get to that point successfully and you'll know." Loki replied easily, not even sure himself what was to come afterwards. As of yet, he had simply told you to do what would drive him most insane.

"Alright…" You breathed, then started moving towards him once more. Slower than last time… more focused. Loki's heart picked up speed as things went very good for you, and very bad for his attempts at staying calm. Your hand on his cheek… so subtly, so gently, barely ghosting over his skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps on the way to his neck. Your eyes wide, reflecting the sizzling flames of the torches, locked with his in a breathtakingly intense gentleness.

An explosion of electricity starting in his heart, sending liquid heat through his veins… his breathing hitched ever so slightly as you came to kneel over him, your face only inches from his. Your chests rose and fell in unison, heavy breaths filling the silence of the room.

Your hips rolled into his as you sat down painfully slowly, keeping his legs pinned to the mattress as you leaned your upper body back just enough to make Loki follow, before he could will his body not to. You pushed your hips forward another time… and then Loki felt the dagger pressing into his pulse point. He'd not even noticed how or when you had drawn it, which was both amazing and scary to him.

"How did I do?" You asked quietly, keeping the dagger placed against his throat and somehow, that scared Loki far less than having your face so close that your nose brushed against his. He trusted you, even with his own life, and that was, for once, not scary at all.

"You could've killed me." He finally said in an equally quiet tone. "That's all I could ask for."

"So I did well?!" You smiled in honest surprise, not pulling the least inch back. But you lowered the dagger, and dropped it onto the bedding behind Loki.

"You did very well, Y/n… Distracting ordinary people is fairly easy, but distracting me is close to impossible. What's changed to last time?"

"I followed your advice."

"And? What did you think of?"

"You." You smiled, savoring the two split seconds of his puzzled face, before finally closing the gap between Loki's lips and your own.

His heart, his mind, his entire being exploded into a thousand little shards of light, before coming clashing back together at last, filling him with a radiant energy that finally allowed him to move again. In an instant his arms circled your waist, pulling you even closer while yours wrapped around his neck. Just like last night… only so, so much better.

The remainder of the day, Loki made you practice a couple more times while he changed his appearance to that of the king, a guard, a councilman… Frankly, the idea of you doing any of this with anyone but Loki himself was painful, maddening and cruel, but he wanted to help you, after all. And you would need to pretend tomorrow, so he would help you practice now.

Only hours later you finally stopped, upon Loki's explicit wish for you to rest. Resting, however, turned more into kissing, and Loki really couldn't bring himself to stop you, not when everything within him just screamed to be as close to you as possible. And so he let himself enjoy the closeness, the affection for once, and by the time morning rolled around he was positively overwhelmed by realization that you might indeed love him just as much as he loved you.

Before the guards came to gather you the next morning, to bring you to Agatha in preparation for the feast, Loki made sure to do exactly three things: firstly, he went over the plan one more time with you, to make sure you knew everything he did. Secondly, he gave you another dagger that you would need to hide until it was to be used. And thirdly, he kissed you with the passion of all the unspoken words lingering between you, and with the promise that everything would be alright. That everything would come to an end tonight.

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