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chateautae · 4 years

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maybe i do | kth. I

➵ summary : maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳ part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre : arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 11k

➵ warnings : swearing, alcohol consumption, anxiety, lots of feels about marriage, a stupid ex (reader’s), mentions of bad sexual experiences with ex (there’s consent, just bad sex that makes the reader feel shitty), does ceo tae count as a warning?

➵ a/n: hello my first fic of my favourite trope arranged marriage, AND with kim taehyung?? yes pls !! this will be a series and I’ll be actively working on it so you don’t have to wait too long for chapters, i hope you can follow this series with me <33

chapter one : “my forever’s falling down”

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“Another one, Father? I thought I told you my secretary would be handling marriage profiles from now on. Stop concerning yourself with who I marry.”

“But I do, son. Trust me, I know this girl, she’s the daughter of a trusted friend and I think she’s a good match.”

“Father, everyone you choose for me I dislike and it’s distracting me from my work. I don’t need this right now.”

“She’s different, Taehyung. I personally know her and I’m certain you won’t say no.”

“And why is that?”

“There’s something about her you won’t refuse, son, you’ll notice it when you meet her.”

“I don’t want to meet her, Father. Like I said, I need to work.”

“I just knew you’d act this way. Want to know something, son? I’ve made her part of a business deal, you can’t back out of this.”

“What? You made her part of a business deal?! Why would you-”

“Because you wouldn’t have given her a chance otherwise, you haven’t been giving anyone a chance since I’ve been setting up potential partners for you and I’m sick of it. You said you were open to an arranged marriage, where’s that attitude now?”

“Because, Father, I have a company to run and that’s-”

“No. I will not allow you to reduce your life to just this company. There are far more enjoyable things in life than a business.”

“But Father-”

“No, Taehyung. One thing you need to learn is balance. If you don’t give anyone or anything a chance you will live a lonely life behind your desk. Even in this cutthroat world of business where you can lose money or be betrayed by anyone at any moment, the most painful thing to suffer is loneliness, and I won’t let you live in this world alone.”

“Dad-”

“You will meet this girl, Taehyung, end of discussion.”

“Dad! I told you I want nothing to do with your company, how could you let me get dragged into this?!”

“Y/N-ie, I know you value the life you have without any of my help, but let me help just this once, especially with finding a husband. I’m being offered the deal of a lifetime and I can’t refuse, he just happens to be part of it. I need this for the company, please.”

“But Dad, I don’t even know him. And if he’s the CEO of some rich company he’s probably an asshole, I’m not doing this.”

“Y/N-ie, trust me, I know his son. He’s a sincere, hard-working man, I promise.”

“Yeah, right. Even if that’s the case, I still don’t know him, let alone love him, Dad. How can you make me marry someone I don’t love?”

“Because you can learn to love him. There are no rules concerning the way two people should fall in love, love doesn’t always need to come first.”

“But Dad-”

“My daughter, I have not asked you for many things in my life, but this is one thing I must ask of you. Please, just meet him, don’t say no without even trying.”

“Dad, I don’t know-”

“Please, Y.N, do it for me. If not for the company or money, please do it for me.”

And here you were, fidgeting with the tips of your nails, tuning in and out of the present world and overthinking every aspect of your life that somehow lead you to this moment. Sitting on a Leather Italia couch in what was described to be Mr. Kim’s study; listening to your father’s incessant, albeit wholesome chatter next to you with your future in-laws across.

And next to them was their suave, unreadable son sitting in a relaxed manner, flipping his attention between your fathers’ conversation and anything else in the room.

You on the other hand, were utterly high strung due to the fact that your father failed to mention your future fiancé’s identity until 30 minutes before arriving here, having done a quick search in the car to unveil who he exactly was.

And that’s when it hit you. You weren’t marrying just anyone, you were getting married to Kim Taehyung. The infamous CEO of Kim Enterprises—Korea’s largest software development and manufacturing company, rivaling to be one of the largest in the world. He was part of Seoul’s most prestigious circle of businessmen, having made multiple Forbes international lists of Most Successful, Youngest, Richest, and is even one of Korea’s most eligible bachelors, not just Seoul.

If this wasn’t already taking you out, then it was definitely the fact that his photos through a measly Google search did him absolutely, utterly and completely no justice. They simply could never capture the truth of just how handsome Kim Taehyung was in real life. You couldn’t deny it, he wasn’t just good-looking, he was stunning, gorgeous, seemed as though God had created the universe, heaven and hell in 6 days and left the 7th just to create him.

He was like a work of art, worthy of being placed in the finest of museums and left untouched, unsodden by the ugliness of humanity. It made you feel extremely inferior to him in an instant. It was sickening, he was sickening, intoxicating, and quite frankly, intimidating.

It was his look, his undivided stare when he eventually settled his sight on you. It didn’t matter his dark hair that landed and perfectly curled above his eyes, the way he occasionally licked his plush lips or how his long, tall legs spread out before him, it was his look that made you want to turn tail and run.

It seemed to reach into your soul, peer straight through whatever façade, walls or defense mechanisms you could spend years building only to have his simple look tear it down in minutes. He was alluring, captivating, left you wanting to cower into whatever hole you could dig yourself into or discover all the secrets he hid behind those enchanting eyes.

Kim Taehyung was many things you couldn’t quite wrap your head around, though you assessed your priorities and decided they didn’t just include him, but mainly the significance of the current meeting taking place right now.

It wasn’t a mere one-time business deal to discuss a project, it was a meeting that entailed the partnership of both your family companies and would define the next however many years of your life. More specifically, spending it with the exact same man that looked at you without a single readable expression on his face.

You distracted yourself by trying to observe as many useless things as you could, flitting around the room many times before suddenly glancing at Taehyung’s index finger coming up to rest against his lips.

You zeroed your vision in more.

Is that a cut on his finger?

“Jae-in, of course! This is just as important to me as it is to you, your son is a remarkable CEO, and I’m sure he’ll make an amazing husband.”

“Aish, Namhyun, you flatter me too much. My son may be handsome, though your daughter is even more beautiful. I’m very sure she will make a wonderful wife.”

“Yes, Namhyun, your daughter is absolutely gorgeous! Just as gorgeous as her mother. I know she wasn’t able to make it, though may I ask where your wife is tonight?”

“Ah, unfortunately, she’s out of the country. Though I was hoping my presence would be enough to fill in for her, am I doing a bad job?”

Laughter erupted from the parents in the room, meanwhile, Taehyung couldn’t help but notice the way you immediately winced at the mention of your mother. Something he definitely wouldn’t miss with the way he found himself examining your every move.

It was habitual to him, something born out of his roots in business, only for the purpose of calculating and reading people like an open book.

He knew you’d also become victim to that habit, though oddly enough, he found himself quite interested in observing you. He had already figured you out; you hated business, there was a clear disconnection between yourself and your father’s company and you reeked of a sense of independence that funnily contradicted the antsy way you bounced your leg.

Your way of speech, however, mannerisms, gestures, your look; it was all professional enough you clearly have some sort of background in business. You seemed like an heiress to Taehyung, which you were, though you oddly had no interest in business?

All these details piqued his interest, curious of just who you exactly were, but he was mainly intrigued by the mysterious claim his father made upon mentioning you for the first time.

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

That had raked Taehyung’s brain consistently for the past hour now, crossing his legs loosely and his arms folded over his chest, contemplating over and over again as he looked at you, what’s so damn special about her?

‘You’ll notice it when you meet her,’ the words rang in his ears.

That was the driving force behind his calculation, observation, near inability to take his eyes off of you as he learned new things nearly every minute and led him closer to understanding his father.

He could tell you were an anxious person, though hid it behind a persona of false confidence. You had a tendency to stick close to your father despite observing you don’t rely on him for much of anything, even less your mother. The softness behind your every movement despite being from a business background where you should be harsh, rigid, rough around the edges, and yet you seemed entirely different.

Taehyung then realized how inherently dissimilar you were to many of the other women he met. They were all relatively of the same cut and look. Cold, sharp, cunning. All women of pure business; daughters, granddaughters or straight CEOs of wealthy companies, simply interested in marriage as a deal or an advantage rather than a commitment.

And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Taehyung was a man of business himself, married to his work, his home behind a desk and the company the only thought occupying his mind 24/7.

But with you, you were interesting, unlike the others and it made him curious.

Taehyung also couldn’t help but notice you were...pretty. You weren’t too overly sexy nor too innocent, you were pretty. There was an elegance to your looks, features like your hair and eyes complementing you as a whole, and he couldn’t miss that you felt oddly...warm.

Taehyung found himself beginning to understand his father’s original viewpoint, considering the possibility he could’ve been correct.

You just seemed different.

“Ah, that seems to be everything. Exact details about the wedding have already been put in place by us.”

“Yes! We’ve been waiting for our TaeTae to get married for so long. We’ve had plans for months now and we can finally move forward with them! You and Y/N don’t need to worry about anything!”

“Mom, did you really just call me that in front of my future fiancé?”

“Oh, let it go, son. It won't be long before she calls you that, too!”

Taehyung could only playfully roll his eyes at his overly excited mother, you scrunching your nose at the embarrassment.

“That’s incredibly generous of you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, though my conscience is not one to let such things go. My family should contribute to the wedding in some way. Y/N and I would be happy to do so.”

“Why don’t we discuss that outside? I believe we should give the future couple some time alone, shall we?”

You and Taehyung exchanged a quick look before standing up and respectively addressing either’s parents, Taehyung shutting the door behind them once they exited and having turned to look at you, an awkward silence piercing the air.

There it was again, his look. It was irrefutably the one reason you avoided eye contact with him, you felt he would swallow you up if you shared even 5 seconds between each other.

“So...” Taehyung suddenly broke the ice, eyeing you.

“So...”

“Marriage, huh?”

“Yeah, marriage. Never done that one before.” If there wasn’t a time you vehemently hated yourself, then it was undoubtedly now. You internally facepalmed at your dumb comment, adding a laugh at the end in embarrassment only to look away.

“Uh..yeah.” Taehyung laughed awkwardly. “Me neither, if you didn’t already know.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked away, you fidgeting by the couches everyone previously occupied.

A beat of silence passed as you both exchanged looks between objects in the room and each other, either of you pursing your lips or blowing light raspberries to cut the awkwardness.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Hm?” You turned towards him, lips just a pout as your doe-eyes awaited him.

Taehyung didn’t miss that at all.

“Um, your mother. I apologize if this is intrusive of me, though I couldn’t help but notice I’ve never actually met her. May I ask where she is?”

You let out a dry chuckle before answering, another detail that didn’t slip Taehyung’s attention. “Trust me, Taehyung, one thing you’ll never have to worry about during this entire ordeal is my mother. She should be the last thing on your mind.” You assured him with what he could tell was your fakest smile, distracting him from the realization you’d said his name for the first time.

“Are you sure? I’ll be meeting her at the wedding so-”

“You won’t. I don’t think you will. Even if she does make it, it takes very little to impress her, just be yourself and she’ll love you.” You stated with a sense of finality, as though the topic should be dropped.

“Be myself? I’m one of the best businessmen in Korea. It’s my job to get people to like me, easy stuff.” He casually gloated.

“You don’t only have to be a businessman to do that,” you paused and looked at him, “you can just be Kim Taehyung, too.” You spoke nonchalantly, eyes lingering with his for longer than 5 seconds and he, in fact, had not swallowed you yet.

Taehyung instantly furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback as if your suggestion was something outlandish, absurd, maybe even offending.

Nobody has ever said such a thing to him, not throughout the entirety of his life.

Taehyung tried his best to recover, searching for another topic of conversation before he was cut off by your rather soft voice, he noticed.

“Oh, I wanted to give you this.” You stepped towards him, reaching into your purse and retrieving something Taehyung couldn’t quite see. You strided over and extended your hand, Taehyung finding himself even more confused.

“A bandage?”

“Mhm. For the cut on your finger. You should probably clean it and apply something before putting this on.” You stated nonchalantly once again, offering him a small smile whilst holding out the bandage.

“Uh...” Taehyung started but couldn’t complete his sentence, lost on how you even observed something as small as his cut and spoke of treating it like it was an actual injury.

After his struggle to form a sentence, you grew bold enough to gently remove his hand from his pocket and place the bandage in his palm, looking back up at him. You shared a momentary look with his chocolate eyes, instantly scrambling after realizing your hand was still in his.

He has really big hands.

“We should um...probably go.” You avoided his eyes, stepping aside quickly to pull the door open.

Taehyung’s mind felt displaced, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the fact that someone had actually left him with nothing to say, an extremely rare occurrence in his book.

He was even more displaced looking at the measly wrapper in his hand, then at the cut on the side of his finger, playing through the last 5 minutes of what just happened.

He scoffed to himself.

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

It had been 3 weeks since that meeting, not having seen Taehyung once as you wasted your time enjoying single life luxuries before you prepared for one of marriage.

It still felt odd to say such a thing, marriage, because it didn’t even feel like one, or a real one at that. It was forced, fake, a pressured one out of convenience. It felt more like a deal, something Taehyung and yourself had to settle for in order to keep your parents’ minds at ease.

That thought racked your brain all those 3 weeks; Taehyung had to settle for you, he didn’t choose you, just as much as you settled for him and didn’t choose him either. You both had ultimately agreed to the marriage only in an effort to optimize your parents’ happiness, not your own.

You had no clue how he felt, a mystery as much as the Bermuda Triangle, knowing he most certainly had a grand pick of women to choose from and you were most definitely his worst option.

You knew you were suddenly dumped on him, leaving him no choice in the matter as you learned your marriage entailed a beneficial business deal between your fathers’ companies, and Taehyung couldn’t really refuse you with so much on the line.

You had already felt inferior to Taehyung since the moment you met him, though your insecurities seeped further into the crevices of your doubtful mind the more you thought over that sad fact, contemplating a married life with him. In your opinion you were pretty much undesirable to him, Taehyung probably kicking himself knowing he had to unwillingly call you his wife for the rest of his life.

You just knew you weren’t good enough for him, you would never measure up no matter how hard you’d try and that utterly terrified you. You were confident and independent when it came to yourself, though wedding a near perfect being regarded as one of Seoul’s finest in terms of a CEO and a man?

Confidence be damned, this dude was intimidating.

These were the feelings that swarmed your head as you sulked at your over-the-top engagement party, set up in a prestigious buildings’ gorgeous 37th floor riddled with baroque styling and embellishments, classical music gracing some of Seoul’s wealthiest patrons as their flutes clinked and snobby chatter filled the hall.

It was all extremely high-status, reeking of upper class supremacy and quite frankly, it made you want to throw up.

You distracted yourself by bringing any and all types of alcohol to your lips, trying to focus on anything but your daunting thoughts.

The entire night you hadn’t talked to Taehyung, both of you having been too occupied with the numerous amounts of people meeting and congratulating you. This became a genuine nuisance as you’d mentioned before, this marriage was of convenience, one that brought families and companies together merrily and constituted hundreds of people attending your engagement party you didn’t really know.

Your friends were excited, over-the-moon you bagged a man like Taehyung and chastised you for not having told them about your engagement to him earlier. Your relatives similarly scolded you, pinching your cheeks and praising Taehyung like he was a God while they scrunched their noses at you for concealing him.

How could I tell you when I didn’t even know myself?, you thought.

It was funny they praised your ‘choice’ of a fiancé, positive nobody was saying the same to Taehyung without at least lying. The public only knew of you as your father’s daughter, never having seen you due to your vehement absence from anything remotely related to his company, and much of the business world in general.

You weren’t part of that world, a world of greed and money-driven lunatics. It just wasn't you. It never suited you, left you with a bad taste in your mouth you constantly grimaced at and thought maybe you were the insane one for not understanding its flavour. As you grew older, however, you came to realize it simply wasn’t the path meant for you, someone who valued the independence and achievement of earning something for yourself, by yourself.

Ever since the inception of that principal, your young teenage self resolved you didn’t want to rely on your father’s wealth, especially not his influence or power to achieve your own place in life.

Your father had worked determinedly hard for years in order to stand as high he does now, warranting your acute admiration for your role model of a father, his now successful architecture business landing him a few buildings part of the Seoul skyline.

And after finally achieving his dream, it suddenly morphed into your own aspiration. His hard work drove you to want your own design part of Seoul’s breathtaking scenery as well, by means of your own effort, your own hard work. You didn’t want your father’s help. It felt wrong, like you were cheating if you used him to gain your place and so you condemned your life to one that separated yours and his.

So you lived, worked and earned money without any of his influence.

You worked for an average architecture company where you felt comfortable, happy that you were away from the suffocating high-status business of your family. And although your detachment left your identity a mystery to many, your situation on the other hand was an extremely infamous one.

‘The-runaway-heiress’, was your staple trademark. The judgmental comments about your choice of life and the insults it warranted were never-ending, subjected to that criticism all your life.

There was no doubt Taehyung was hearing all of that, people probably warning him to step out of the marriage before it was too late. You weren’t like Taehyung, who was perfect, desirable, someone everyone either wanted or wanted to be. It left you glad and quite frankly, proud to be wedding a man of such caliber and incredibility, though left you wondering why in God’s name he would ever agree to marry someone like you; average, average and well, average.

“That’s your 5th shot, Y/N, slow the fuck down.” Your best friend Hana’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, snatching the shot glass from your grasp. “It wouldn’t be cool if you were trashed at your own party, dummy.”

Her sudden appearance brought a smile to your face. “I know, I just don’t feel well.” You sighed by the counter of the bar, seated atop a stool as you circled an empty shot glass mindlessly.

“I get you, there’s like, hundreds of people here and you’re probably hearing a lot of different shit.” Hana appealed to you, having read your emotions like an open book. “Speaking of people, I wanted to ask, what’s up with Taehyung and his stare?”

You stifled a snort, looking at Hana’s incredulous face. “It’s just a habit of his. He stares at everyone.”

“Okay... sure, but I didn’t mean everyone, I meant you.” Hana emphasized, comically pointing.

You furrowed your eyebrows at her, arm leaning against the bar’s counter as you questioned, “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really stop staring at you, which is kinda weird. Unless you like that, I don’t judge people’s kinks.” Hana mockingly held her hands up in surrender, gauging a reaction out of you.

You instantly grimaced, “It’s not a kink, Hana. Nice joke by the way, wanna sign up for SNL with that one?”

“I’m serious! I’ve been catching him just looking at you and I don’t know if it’s weird or hot.” Hana informed as you became more puzzled, her becoming oddly excited, “Awh, maybe he’s concerned with how much you keep drinking! That’s so romantic.” She chimed, looking off into the distance dreamily.

“Shut the fuck up, he wouldn’t do that.” You smacked her arm, snatching your shot glass back from her. “Besides, you’re one of the rare people who knows this marriage is fake, you know he doesn’t care.”

“Jheez, way to kill romance?” Hana rolled her eyes, smacking your arm in rebuttal before continuing. “I’m serious, though. This may be fake but he really does keep looking at you, and I don’t know what it means.” Hana speculated, contorting her lips as if in thought.

“It means nothing, Hana. You’re just seeing things.”

“Then why has he been staring at you depressed by the bar for the last half an hour?”

You nearly spit out your drink, “What?”

“Are you clueless or just dumb? He’s been talking to someone for 30 minutes but most of the time he’s been looking at you, and he still is, how haven’t you noticed?”

You creased your eyebrows in surprise as you slowly lowered your shot glass. You turned away from Hana to scan the small crowds of people mingling, eating, drinking in the hall.

You searched the room, drink still in hand until your eyes caught tall, dark and handsome in his finely pressed suit, casually standing with a drink in his hand by a table speaking to someone. You nearly jumped when your eyes locked with Taehyung’s, every cell in your body caught off guard.

What made your heart specifically race was the way he didn’t even look away from you. He held your gaze, casually conversing with the person in front of him, eyeing you until he finally cracked a small smirk before turning back to his companion.

Your eyebrows practically shot up to the sky.

“See, weird or hot? Am I even allowed to say hot?” Hana blurted as she reveled in your reaction. “And you really thought I was joking. You don’t believe anything I say, I could tell you the world’s ending and you wouldn’t believe me. I could tell you aliens finally invaded the planet and you wouldn’t believe me until the green motherfuckers knocked on your door themselves and-”

“Hana, shut the fuck up.” You cut her off abruptly and made a face at her. “Why did you even come here?”

“Grumpy, aren’t we?” She flashed you a sarcastic look before sighing. “Your dad wanted me to find you. You and Taehyung have to meet someone important, so you should stop drinking like an alcoholic, dumbass.” Hana informed hastily as she grabbed the shot glass from you and downed it herself.

“Your dad’s by the entrance, go before he gets mad!” She shooed you away, pushing you up until you whisper-yelled and smacked at her to let you go.

You began stepping towards the entrance, smoothing over your dress and this was the moment you realized you may have drank a little too much. You were quick to reprimand yourself, cursing your unprofessional behavior as your inner equilibrium became slightly woozy, senses drowning out a bit, every sound hazed over with a buzz in your veins.

You sucked in a breath to pull yourself together, knowing your dad valued this person enough you and Taehyung had to meet them together.

Taehyung.

You decided to glance in his direction, lips pursing seeing he wasn’t in his previous spot. You chose to ignore it, walking along until you felt a looming presence behind you, almost having time to acknowledge it before a hand suddenly touched the small of your back.

“Looking for me?”

You nearly squealed, jumping with a hand ready to punish before calming down at the sight of Taehyung, sighing with relief. “Jheez, could you use my name? I thought you were a stranger.”

“Well, hello to you too.” Taehyung quipped sarcastically. “And why would a stranger touch your back? Of course it’d be the only man in this room marrying you.” Taehyung narrowly eyed you, scrutinizing your reaction with his hand still pressed to you.

“People do a lot of whatever the hell they want, Taehyung.” You responded turning away from him, heels clacking as you continued to pace towards where your father stood. “W-why’d you do that, anyway?”

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows. “Because we’re engaged?”

“It’s not real, though.”

“It’s as real as it gets.” Taehyung finalized, making it a statement to smile at everyone you passed, to which you realized just how many pairs of eyes glued themselves to you. “This may not feel like a real marriage to us, but to the rest of the world it is.”

He then suddenly leaned himself down to your height and lowered his tone, breath just ghosting your ear. “Y/N, we have to make this seem real, it’s the only way we’ll survive.” Taehyung was the closest he’s ever been to you, and the deep baritone of his voice as he called your name did absolutely nothing but manifest butterflies in your chest.

Why was his voice so deep?

You shook the thought out of your head, ultimately choosing not to say anything because he was in fact, correct. You grinned widely continuing to mask the truth of your arrangements, leaning into him more as you settled for his hand on your back.

You’d noticed it before, but his hand felt particularly large against you now that he was so close. You glanced at his other hand resting by his side, impressed by how masculine they appeared; long fingers with running veins and a roughness to them, sculpted so well you were sure they deserved to be referred to as art. It tickled your giddy side for a second when they seemed to perfectly contrast your more feminine and smaller hands.

It was kinda cute.

You neglected your thoughts once you neared your father, warm-heartedly conversing with a well-dressed man you just about recognized.

“Ah, there you both are!” Your father cheered, reaching out his arm so he could envelop you in a side-hug, returning Taehyung’s bow and addressment.

“Dad, I heard you wanted us to meet someone?” You perked up in a superficial tone, at least attempting to act as though everything was fine and dandy in your life; maybe owing it to the alcohol to endure all the falsehoods.

“Yes, Y/N-ie, I wanted you to meet Mr. Won. Chang-in, my lovely daughter and whom I guess you already know, her fiancé and CEO of Kim Enterprises, Kim Taehyung.” Your father proudly presented you both.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Won, Kim Taehyung.” Taehyung was the first to address the man, extending his hand and bowing as he greeted him. You were almost taken aback by how polite he could be, the way his charming smile graced his features and attractively displayed his perfect teeth. His manner of speech and etiquette were all refined with a high degree of professionalism as well, internally gawking at his duality.

Wasn’t he acting all entitled with you just now?

“Nice to meet you as well!” You collected yourself and cheered, a little baffled as to why Taehyung still rested his hand against your back. “I’m hoping my father has only said good things.” You earned a laugh from the group, Mr. Won responding by receiving your hand with a firm shake.

“Ah, Namhyun, you forgot to mention how beautiful your daughter has grown, and your future son-in-law has me jealous! What a handsome and accomplished young man, the perfect match, the two of them.” Mr. Won praised you both kindly.

You and Taehyung both smiled and thanked him humbly, feeling some heat collect in your cheeks upon Mr. Won’s words. You two? The perfect match? Unless he believes a rock and a Greek statue belong together, then he’s absolutely correct.

Other than that, you chest swarms with butterflies thinking you’re now referred to as ‘two’.

Taehyung for some odd reason encircles the curve of your waist suddenly, pulling you closer to him. You last minute sputter at the intimate action before leaning into him, one arm nervously encasing his torso as the other rests against his chest.

You feel him tense underneath you.

“Aish, you’re such a flatterer. Y/N-ie, do you remember Mr. Won? My friend from university? You haven’t seen him in a while.” Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, trying to jog your memory.

“Oh, you mean Mr. Won from SNU?” You suddenly remembered, looking to your father for confirmation.

“Yes, so you do remember!”

“Of course I do, how could I forget!” You smiled brightly and returned your gaze to the familiar man. “Mr. Won used to sneak me ice cream when you wouldn’t let me have any, Dad.” You scolded him with a playful jab to his arm, inviting more laughter. “I apologize for not recognizing you right away, it’s been a long time, Mr. Won, forgive me.” You solemnly apologized, Mr. Won giving you a look of understanding.

“Ah, forget it, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, although since it’s been a long time I hope you remember my son? He should be here somewhere..” Mr. Won trailed as his eyes fished over the grand hall, scanning around.

“Your son..” You repeated to yourself, realizing there was a familiar connection itching at your mind, he was your age actually-

Wait.

Oh God, not him.

Anything but him.

You felt raw panic seep into the spaces between your ribs, your chest filling with a constricting feeling of anxiety you couldn't shake off. Your heart picked up speed and the alcohol coursing through your veins didn’t help your judgement or memory at all, mind fogged over with the poison we dare call alcohol.

You felt stupid, so utterly stupid. How could you forget Mr. Won and who his Godforsaken son was?

You felt an anxiety attack riddling you, shifting your weight on your feet as you tried to bite back your uneven breathing. You just couldn’t see this man, especially in a situation where you were standing next to your husband-to-be.

Taehyung wasn’t so invested in the conversation before him, mindlessly nodding along before he felt you physically freeze next to him, his glance to the side confirming your pale look, watching as your panicked eyes faltered to the floor and revealed... fear?

He registered your odd shifting and your failed attempts at plastering a smile, confused if you knew this guy and if you did, why were you freaking out so much?

Were you in love with him or something?

The thought minutely bugged him until he watched you turn straight up uncomfortable, horrified when Mr. Won called out his son’s name.

“Kiseok-ah! Come here!”

You stopped breathing when you heard the name, eyes going wide as you avoided eye contact with anyone in the group, but caught Taehyung’s undivided attention. He grew curious when Kiseok sauntered over to the group, your hand on his chest suddenly squeezing his suit as the mysterious man greeted everyone respectfully.

Taehyung watched as his intrigued eyes locked on you, eyebrows perking up amusedly as his lips curved into a smile Taehyung honestly couldn’t admit to liking.

“Y/N? Wow, long time no see. It’s been what, a year?” The man Kiseok called out happily, like there was absolutely no problem occurring here but as Taehyung felt your hand clutch onto his suit, lips just about quivering before you forced a smile, he knew there was most certainly a problem.

“Yeah.” Your voice was weak, small, and Taehyung found himself wondering how a courageous person like you was all of a sudden cowering.

He’d heard it all night, all the accounts of your other life away from the business world. He wasn’t going to lie, he heard a multitude of opinions concerning you, many of which including either looking down on you or telling Taehyung there’s many other, more powerful women in business he could’ve been marrying instead.

But Taehyung didn’t care for their opinions, he found you the most powerful woman he could ever marry, and agreed to do so because of that very prospect. Sure, you were estranged from the business scene and practically abandoned any role you’d play in your father’s company in order to pursue your own personal aspirations, but if anything, Taehyung found it highly commendable.

Taehyung knew it took guts to do what you did, a bold and daring act that no other heir or future heir of a wealthy company could ever think of doing, including himself.

What he found to appreciate most was your unwillingness to give in, where you had to have heard all the back-handed and snobby comments, yet you still held your head up high, remained rooted and adamant in keeping your current way of life. It instantly signaled to him you were courageous, fearless, unable to be stopped in your tracks.

So when he watched you become smaller and smaller the more you stood in the vicinity of this Kiseok, he knew something was sincerely wrong.

“Ah yes, it’s been quite some time. Why don’t we step away from you three? You could do some catching up.” Your father urged as he motioned Mr. Won to step away with him. You lightly addressed them only to have your hands neglect Taehyung entirely and start fidgeting, attempting to calm your nerves as the alcohol inebriated your system and magnified your anxiety by tenfold.

“Ah, yes, Kim Taehyung, CEO of Kim Enterprises. I’ve been meaning to meet you.” Kiseok extended his hand as his voice irked you with every syllable, trying your best to seem like absolutely nothing was wrong.

Taehyung reached out his hand in response uneagerly, giving a small shake while wondering why you let him go. “That’s news to me, nice to meet you.” Taehyung responded, already feeling an intense aura of discomfort and tension between you both, sensing he was missing out on something that seemed 6 ft deep.

“Likewise. Y/N..” Kiseok suddenly turned towards you, making you wince. You painted on your smile as you lifted your vision. “Kiseok.”

“How’ve you been?”

“Better than ever. You?”

“Marvelous, just wondering what your life’s looked like since I haven’t been in it.”

“I believe I said better than ever, didn’t I?”

Kiseok scoffed unamused, “So a year, huh? In all that time you suddenly found yourself a fiancé, and Kim Taehyung at that?” Kiseok seemed to be making light-hearted conversation to anyone outside of your group, though you knew deep down the hostility behind his words.

“Yeah, I did. It just happened.” You shrugged, gaining the confidence to counter him. “And you? Plan on putting a ring on any of your girls? Maybe the 5th or 7th one you liked?” You sarcastically questioned, furrowing your brows in mock contemplation.

“No, you know I’ve always had my eye on one girl when it came to marriage.” Kiseok eyed you knowingly, purposefully, like he was trying to make it obvious.

You snorted and glared at him, “If I remember correctly, your attitude said otherwise.” hatred began boiling under your skin. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second, memories between you two coming back in flashes. You didn’t even realize you were shaking until Taehyung’s hand suddenly entangled with yours, pulling you towards him almost defensively.

You were surprised, looking at your connected hands and back up at Taehyung. He returned your look, peering down at you as he smiled warmly, affectionately.

“I’m sorry, Kisook? Was it? My future wife and I have plans for tonight. May you excuse us?” Taehyung didn’t even let Kiseok respond before he was pulling you away, in complete shock at his first lack of manners you’d ever seen. You were only left to watch Taehyung as he lead you along, gaining the timely opportunity to realize he was taller than Kiseok, and in fact significantly taller than you.

Taehyung was a large man in general, you noticed. His shoulders looked broad from behind, accentuated by the fit of his suit which also emphasized the expanse of his chest, tastefully exposing his sculpted neck. His legs were long, proportioned perfectly in accordance with the rest of his model-like figure, which was ideally fit and contained just the right amount of muscle.

Dear God, you took your time with this one.

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had pulled you into a secluded hallway or that you were ogling him when he suddenly stopped, turning in your direction and snapping you out of a near fever dream.

Yeah, alcohol was not a good idea tonight.

“Who the fuck was that?”

“What?”

“That douche, who was that?” Taehyung inquired slightly pissed, in need of the asshole’s identity after watching whatever shitshow he didn’t pay for.

“Nobody, Taehyung, he shouldn’t concern you.” You looked away from him, pouting in a way that made Taehyung momentarily notice the plush of your lips.

Again?, was all he could think, first, your mother, and now this guy? Just how many people did you have bad connections with and he needed to ignore?

Why were there so many intricate pieces to you?

“Are you kidding me? He concerns me now, your mother I can understand but this guy? Nothing to me. I could step on him.” Taehyung proclaimed confidently and stood up broader, conviction written all over his face.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his remark, resembling the thought you had earlier. “I was just thinking, you’re a lot taller than him.”

Taehyung couldn’t help but bite back a smile, watching you giggle like a shy high schooler and his ears gladly welcomed the soft sound. “Damn straight I am.” He adjusted the jacket of his suit suavely. It was then he remembered what his other hand was doing; still holding yours.

His eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief.

He squeezed your hand a little tighter and yanked you towards him, bodies just centimeters apart as you crashed into him, all up in each other’s personal space.

Your eyes widened in complete surprise.

“So you were thinking about me, huh?” Taehyung teased with a stupidly lowered tone, a smug grin decorating his face.

You ignored the electricity shooting through you, rolling your eyes and playfully sneering at him. “Shut up, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’re taller.” You forced space between you two and tried snatching your hand from him, but his grip transformed into an iron lock.

“Says the one who was thinking about me.”

“Taehyung, shut-” You almost huffed out but as soon as you stepped away, your copious consumption of alcohol suddenly attacked you all at once, vertigo making you lose your balance until Taehyung reached out to steady you.

“Jheez, did you have to drink tonight?” Taehyung chastised you as you fell into him, head spinning with disorientation and growing flimsier by the second. “You’re probably a lightweight at your size.”

“I am not a lightweight. You don’t even know how much I drank, it was a lot.” You bit back in rebuttal, hooking onto his taut forearms as he supported you.

“But I did see.” He voiced barely above a whisper, causing you to snap your vision up at him incredulously. “What?”

“Nothing, it shouldn’t concern you.” Taehyung mocked, though still tried to fix you onto your own footing.

You didn’t even get to scrutinize him further when you felt another round of dizziness plague you, balance faltering again. Taehyung huffed out and finally flanked you on his side, arm encasing your shoulders as he adjusted you. “Okay Miss I’m-Not-A-Lightweight, you should eat something.” He fit you beside him, beginning to walk you towards the main hall.

Taehyung in this moment didn’t understand what he was doing, utterly clueless as to what was fueling his actions. He was uncertain why he found himself.. caring? He didn’t even know you, yet he couldn’t help but become a little concerned when he watched you down drinks like it was New Year’s Eve.

How can all that alcohol fit into one tiny person?

What was he even thinking when he dragged you away from that Kisuk guy? Why did he feel like protecting you all of a sudden? A near sense of possessiveness? He wasn’t even your real husband.

It started giving Taehyung a headache. This was all strange, a foreign concept he wasn’t familiar with and he didn’t know if it was the result of his considerate personality or only manifested solely because of you.

The same way Taehyung dealt with his inner turmoil, you dealt with yours; you were always so adamant on independence though ironically found yourself leaning on Taehyung.

Oddly, you let him carefully guide you back into the hall with no protests.

It was the day of the wedding.

You wish you could recall your emotions throughout the day, certain there would be at least a sliver of a positive one. Though as you remained unmoving, nearly catatonic, unresponsive to your surroundings, you knew there wouldn’t be a single happy memory in the tsunami of sorrow that attacked you today.

Emotions of grief plagued consistently as you realized the loss of everything you valued most in your life. Your happiness, your freedom, your ability to choose. The stripping of all those bundled into an stifling wad in your chest that left you in a perpetual state of wanting to cry.

The sting in your heart when you realized your mother didn’t bother to come, the excruciating smile you forced onto your features when Taehyung’s mother delicately placed the veil atop your head, the secret tears you shed after adorning your body with a wedding dress you didn’t even choose; it all left you internalizing feelings of utter agony.

And none of it was your real choice.

Even the flowers at the wedding weren’t your favourite.

This day was horrifying. You couldn’t believe you prided yourself on your independence, refusing to give in despite numerous challenges and never taking a word of what anyone said to you. Even when someone begged you to change or come back to your old life, you always chose for yourself. You never allowed someone to push you around, seldom coerced into anything solely based on the wishes of another.

Yet here you were, standing just before the grand doors of a wedding you never asked for, having easily followed every word of your father’s and sacrificed your deepest principles in order to make him happy, to appease and live up to his expectations that weren’t your own.

It was utterly frightening, appalling. As if you had lost the one true commendable feature of the intricate character you were, suddenly lost the acclamation of others even if they didn’t know the true nature of your marriage.

But what disgusted you the most was truly, that you had lost respect for yourself.

These grim thoughts were the ones that attached themselves to you as you hesitantly hooked your arm with your father’s. You used every ounce of strength to not flee, to remain here, to still walk down that isle with your head held high like you always have despite abandoning every foundation of the character you’d spent years working on.

You didn’t care that your eyes watered, masking them with the facade of happy tears from the blushing bride. You didn’t care when your father looked incredibly concerned and wondered what was so wrong, you didn’t care how sorrowful you may have appeared to anyone at this ironically glamorous event.

Though what you did care for was that you couldn’t hold your head up as you walked down the isle, vision fixated on the ground as your tears betrayed you, spilling out at the traumatizing feeling of not being able to stand tall like you always did, something stripping you of your self-reassurance, your strength, your confidence.

It all spelled the requiem of your soul as you reached the end, dwelling in the impossibility this was happening to you until you felt the touch of Taehyung’s fingertips, guiding you up the stairs. It was then confirmed to you this was in fact real, part of your new reality you had no choice but to accept.

You suddenly felt eternal gratitude for the veil that now covered your face, hiding the tears you cried at mourning the loss of everything you worked for.

While the priest’s words were read, you didn’t exchange a single look with Taehyung, knowing you’d only want to evaporate into the air, to run away at light speed or have someone in a turn-of-events suddenly take your life, just so you didn't have to face the humility of giving up the life you’d spent blood, sweat and tears building if you looked him in the eye.

You felt the weight of your unknown future crushing you, pushing you towards the precipice as you gripped Taehyung’s hands harder to ground yourself.

You were to rely on Taehyung, to share a bond with him you had never spent time cultivating, expected to live a life next to him while never being able to truly understand him, know him, love him. The natural process of falling in love now tainted with the coercion of a pressurized marriage, losing the opportunity to achieve any true sense of love. You’d never experience finding the one anymore, your soulmate, the other end of your red string of fate.

That realization made your tears spill harder, disconnecting your hand from Taehyung’s to prevent your choked sobs becoming audible, holding your palm against your quivering lips.

To anyone beyond you and Taehyung, it would look as though you were crying tears of happiness, joyously weeping at your matrimony with the love of your life, though as Taehyung felt the shaking of your hands, your refusal to meet his gaze as you reluctantly walked down the isle, the agonizing pain he could see through the sheer of your veil, he knew you were far from happy.

He couldn’t help but purse his lips together tightly, knowing you were probably swallowing insurmountable torment down your throat because of this marriage, and tears pricked at his own eyes finding himself able to relate.

He wasn’t just upset for you or himself, it was the entire situation, quite frankly the fucking world. The fact that the universe planned this as your destiny, his destiny, that the happiness of your parents and two companies came at the expense of both yours and his.

He knew you didn’t hate him, that he wasn’t the reason just as much as you weren’t the reason either, it was the arbitrary nature of the arrangement. That whatever version of true love and happily ever after you and Taehyung had separately dreamed of, it could never come to life.

Even if the company meant everything to Taehyung, his CEO position more important than whatever position he’d play as some husband, seldom having time to consider love and relationships, he still harboured the same wants and desires any human would. A partner, a companion he truly loved with whom he’d start a family eventually, create a life for them and himself defined by love and comfort.

Though Taehyung only knew now you would both die with your decision-making capabilities robbed of you, bound to each other forcibly without the ardor of real love.

Taehyung’s every thought was proven correct when the two of you exchanged your vows in near strangled chokes and shaky tones, appearing as happy emotions to the guests of the wedding though only you two knowledgeable of each other’s suffering.

Your vision finally met Taehyung’s once you heard the rawness in his voice, your miserable emotions doubling when you registered he was just in the same pain as you. It was in that moment the priest’s words became audible and rang loud in both your ears, suddenly grounding you two to earth and reminding you of your reality.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Both of your eyes grievously locked for a moment of horrified realization; that you were seconds away from going through with this, throwing each other’s lives away for the utilitarian benefit, abandoning any sense of choice in whom you both would spend a lifetime with.

Taehyung swallowed thickly as he removed your veil, feeling his eyes fill with tears again when he laid them upon your utterly devastated, tear-stained face. You were using every nerve in your body to stop yourself from sobbing and caving into the ominous thought of fleeing the ceremony.

Taehyung’s sight wondered to your lips as they still quivered, nearly swollen red at the intensity in which you bit them, awaiting the kiss you were certain would be filled with frustration and hatred, hatred for the mud you were dragging him through, hatred for pressuring him into suddenly valuing something more than his work and his company, to suddenly become a husband to you.

Though as he watched the terror flashing through your eyes, tears watering your lash line, he knew he could never feel anything so ardently negative towards you, remembering exactly what he was stripping you of.

The life you built on your own, defying any and everyone’s expectations of yourself, cursing your heir status to hell, your strength, your independence. Now? Your life was bound to his, bound to one where you were obliged to sacrifice yourself for your father’s company and the upper class cesspool you’d spent so long trying to run away from.

So as Taehyung began closing the gap between you two, nearing your shaking figure, he resolved he wouldn’t make this hard. He would try, try to accept that his life now entailed you, would try to work towards the balance his father insisted he needed, try to understand that you were now part of his priorities and could never simply ignore you.

He glided his thumbs against the back of your hands that held his pacifyingly, leaning down until he was just inches from your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. He unexpectedly spoke quietly, meaningfully, seconds away from sealing the deal of an uncertain future, though, remained certain of this one thing.

“I’ll take care of you, Y/N, I promise.” And he kissed you in a single breath, no haste, no pressure, only the gentle touch of his lips as they met yours, soft and light.

Maybe Taehyung didn’t know the exact feelings behind his promise, but he knew the meaning; that no matter the arrangement, the non-existent feelings, the loss of choice, he would at least take care of you like any husband would, a good husband.

He at least owed you that.

You were left shocked at the nature of his kiss, Taehyung’s warm lips connecting with yours tenderly. You were convinced the tears you saw in his eyes were enough to assert he hated this, frustrated he had to sell his soul, wishing to only rush the kiss so he could call it a day and ignore you for the rest of his life.

Though what you never expected was the promise he made, or the way he kissed you with such intimacy you found yourself melting into his touch, reciprocating. He kissed you like you were fragile, locking your lips in a way that solidified his promise, as if out of all the empty vows you spoke today, this was the one, true vow he would keep. His lips felt plush against yours, catching his mouth just a little more before the bittersweet disconnection.

You and Taehyung exchanged a poignant look, small smiles decorating both your faces with a mutual understanding swimming in your eyes as you gripped each other’s hands. You let his promise permeate the air between you two, finding solace in his words as the applause of everyone attending the ceremony filled the hall.

Maybe it was the warm way Taehyung always pressed his hand to the small of your back when you spoke to others the whole night, maybe the way he veered you away from excessive amounts of alcohol with a light-hearted scolding considering that last time you drank, or maybe even the way he gently held you during your first dance..

Maybe it was all these considerate, kinds act that made you view Taehyung in a less negative light and rather a favourable one, that maybe he wouldn’t be the asshole CEO you’d first accused him of being.

You would also be an idiot to not mention how completely and utterly handsome he was, looks carved by the Greeks themselves, quite possibly the hottest, most attractive man you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

And maybe all that accumulated into your assured opinion that when it came to consummating your marriage with Taehyung, you’d have no qualms or worries whatsoever. You would be absolutely willing, ready to take the night on and maybe even have some fun for yourself with whom you could tell was a really, really nice guy.

Though as Taehyung walked calmly in front of you towards your hotel suite, reaching into his suit pocket for the card key he’d retrieved at the front desk to swipe against the lock, your chest clogged with a crushing feeling of anxiety you couldn’t subdue.

These weren’t the same nerves of maybe being not pretty enough, body insecurities or fear of what to expect from Taehyung, no, these nerves came from the utter panic of having to experience sex with another man.

Especially since your last partner.

It always started with your permission, that wasn’t the issue, Though what left you afraid, so utterly frightened with the thought of spending a night with a man like this came from the treatment you received from that partner.

Safe to say, you weren’t treated kindly. Far from that, actually, you were treated as though you had no needs or were a means of simple use. Your last partner was the opposite of giving, he was selfish, self-absorbed and only concerned himself with his own pleasure, going on and on only until he was satisfied and neglected you in every sense of the word, sometimes even refusing to listen to you if you protested.

To make matters worse, he wasn’t faithful.

You knew he slept around, a lot, it was the number one reason you never agreed to actually date him, never make things official.

But the reason you would end up sleeping with him was because of the most perfectly imperfect concept among the human race; love. You believed every time with him was a new chance to make that love real, that it was the genuine manifestation of your feelings for one another, thinking maybe he wasn’t the asshole he always portrayed himself as and could man up enough to love you unconditionally.

And he completely reeled you in, made you fall in love too quickly and made you believe he was capable of love. This grew exponentially when you were often described as ‘the different one’, the one he always came back to, that you were special. You clung onto those words as much as you could, convinced each time you were in fact the one for him, that maybe one day, he’d wake up and abandon his fuckboy lifestyle and mature.

But everyday that went by, every promise that was never fulfilled, every word that wasn’t met with an action, and especially after every hook up that resulted in nothing new, you began to understand you were everyone’s favourite role in a Shakespearean play.

The fool.

You were a joke to believe anything he said, the most naive person on earth to think you were any different from the others, when every night simply ended in rough fucks, virtually no orgasm and miniscule aftercare.

It left you essentially scarred, traumatized that every man in the world was built like this. It didn’t help that whenever you look back, many of your ex partners were of the same cut, the same trope of assholes that don’t seem as bad but end up being exactly so.

It was what made you swallow thickly as Taehyung opened the door to the suite, holding it open as he moved aside to let you enter first. You walked forward and unintentionally brushed against him, realizing how much smaller you were in comparison to him all over again.

He towered over you, and it made you more nervous.

You looked up at him momentarily and quietly thanked him as you stepped inside, setting your sights on the large, king sized bed situated on one side of the room, a lounging area with couches to the other side which lead to a bathroom. Seoul’s breathtaking skyline was visible in the dark of the night through wall-to-ceiling windows opposite to you, covered by flowy, sheer curtains.

You took a deep breath, trying to remind yourself Taehyung was not the same. Not all men are the same, you can’t inflict the mistakes and wrongdoings of one man onto another, categorize them into one kind. You wanted to think this way, and you knew it was the humane way to think.

But as the memories of those heart-aching nights filled your head, the empty words, the lack of care or concern, the neglect, the feelings of pure abandonment and use only caused your heart to beat profusely in your chest, clutching onto the neckline of your dress to breathe.

What if Taehyung really was no different?

It then suddenly hit you you didn’t know him. All you knew of Taehyung was that he was a fiercely successful business man, sitting atop Seoul’s most prestigious with Godly looks and a stare that could kill a man. You remembered your initial feelings about him; his stare in fact intimidated you, quite frankly all of him intimidated you, he was the epitome of perfection and you were far from that very notion. It left you thinking you didn’t measure up, and that he could view you in a dissimilar light than you viewed him; an unfavorable one.

He could simply not want you, but is forced to.

You’d observed his kind behavior and actions over the odd two days you met him, though that was exactly the inculpatory factor; you had only met him twice. You didn’t know what he would be like alone, when it was just the two of you, when there weren’t eyes scrutinizing him and cameras snapping shots of his every move.

You didn’t know how he would be like in the bedroom, either.

Your mind raced as you conflicted with yourself, trying to understand that Taehyung could be different, though apprehensive with the miniscule knowledge you actually had of him.

You discerned after that last asshole of a partner you needed the love and care of a real partner, someone who would tend to your needs, adore you in the midst of their actions, be a giver and not just a receiver.

And you didn’t know if Taehyung would be that partner.

“Y/N...” Taehyung called out to you rather softly as he removed his suit jacket, the rustling of the cloth signaling he had indeed done so. His footsteps were hard to miss, the soles of his shoes sounding against the hardwood floor as he neared your lonesome figure standing in the middle of the room.

Your breathing quickened with nearly every step he took, attempting to resolve the civil war you were battling within. You were trying to convince yourself Taehyung would be a nice man, a nice husband; though couldn’t help but feel deflated by the fact it was all mainly coerced out of him.

Your thoughts overwhelmed you as Taehyung finally stood behind you, mere inches from your back as he watched you from behind, unbeknownst of any feelings or thoughts currently riddling you.

He hesitated, though gently placed his hand against your bare arm, the sudden warmth of his hand against your skin causing you to flinch. He peered down at your smaller self squarely focusing in front of you, anticipating your response. He grew slightly soft when you tentatively looked over your shoulders, clearly teary-eyed.

Taehyung couldn’t miss how scared you seemed, and he his heart inexplicably stung at the thought you were afraid of him.

“We don’t have to do this.” Taehyung’s voice was low and resembled warm honey, reverberating in a way that made you ease up.

You worked towards a stable voice. “W-we don’t?”

“No, we don’t” His voice held no disappointment, only the intention of seemingly wanting to assure you, firm and oddly comforting.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry.” It was hard to keep your tone leveled, clutching your hand over your mouth as you swallowed your emotions.

“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

You strangely felt the desire to hold his hand that rested against you, though you ignored the urge and simply stepped out of his touch, clutching your chest tightly in an effort to cower away from him. But it was here you suddenly remembered that he kissed you, and the way he did so.

It made your cheeks fill with a rosy blush.

“Do you mean that?” You’d finally turned to meet his eyes, his face only visible by the moonlight illuminating the room. He seemed to have retracted his hand and stood with both tucked in his pockets, relaxed.

This became the first time you noticed just how ravishing he looked tonight.

His dark hair was slicked back loosely and left enough pieces to fall as a comma, graciously exposing his forehead, his Tom Ford suit attractively hugged his model-like body, watch and accessories accentuating his expensive look.

His features were casted over by soft lighting, somehow adding to his beauty as the glow made him appear... less intimidating, dare you say warm or inviting.

His expression was funnily enough, one that you could actually read. He held no contempt, no impatience or anger, only a hint of consideration as his calm eyes looked at you. His face may have been predominantly blank, void of a smile, though certainty held a form of reassurance.

“Of course I do, why would I do anything with an unwilling person?”

You scoffed lightly, “Not a lot of people would say that.” Your eyes faltered from Taehyung’s and clutched yourself tighter, expression completely telling of trauma.

Taehyung instantly picked up on it, eyebrows slightly furrowing at your words though softening once registering their weight. He felt an overwhelming sense of apology take him, thinking of his next sentence before his mind oddly flashed back to the night of the engagement party.

“Y/N, did Kiseok..?” Taehyung trailed hesitantly.

You winced at his line of thinking, “No, no...not what you’re thinking,” you immediately denied. “Just, shitty experiences.”

“Shitty, as in...?”

“As in only seeking self-satisfaction, neglect, lies, infidelity. Can we go to sleep?” You deflected with a heavy sigh and a hand at your temple, the day’s events catching up to you.

Taehyung nodded in agreement, “Yeah, sleep. We both need that.” His eyes then landed on the bed, registering even if it were large enough you two could sleep apart, he still opted for caution.

“Um.. you can take the bed, by the way. I’ll sleep on the couch-”

“No, don’t do that.” You replied quickly. “I can’t sleep on a king-sized bed all by myself, it’s huge.” You side-eyed the massive mattress and laughed a little, lightening the heavy aura casted over the room.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Don’t worry, Taehyung. You don’t make me feel uncomfortable.” You smiled at him lightly and received a small one from him, both your eyes mirroring the same sense of understanding you exchanged at the altar.

“I’ll let you wash up first, your overnight bag should be in the bathroom closet.” Taehyung informed, pointing towards the direction of your things.

“Thank you.” You voiced with an amount of warmth that made Taehyung want to genuinely smile, though crushed the weird urge and nodded agreeably instead.

You began walking away from him until a nuisance suddenly occurred to you, cursing yourself as you came to a full stop. “Um, Taehyung.. I forgot but could you..?” You angled your back towards him to call out to the ribbons tying the back of your dress, knowing you would’ve taken 20 years just to untie your bodice yourself.

The fact that you weren’t looking directly at Taehyung made him feel relieved, glad he wouldn’t embarrass himself with the his eyes slightly widened. He was quick to reprimand himself, it’s just a woman’s dress, why the hell are you shocked?

Taehyung swallowed dryly before replying, “Uh, yeah I’ll--I’ll do that.” He walked towards you sparingly and positioned himself behind you.

He’d noticed it before, but you were relatively small compared to him in size and it continued to poke at his brain, maybe even momentarily think it was cute.

Cute? When have I ever found a girl cute?

Taehyung exhaled before his hands carefully made for the silk ribbons, his tentative fingers fiddling with the ties until he eventually began loosening each one. He started unlooping your bodice, breathing out considerably when each loop began exposing your back inch by inch.

Taehyung’s sweet, hot breath fanned your skin, tensing each time as your every nerve went haywire feeling just how close he was. His slender fingers brushed against your bare skin here and there, making heat collect in your face.

You grew even hotter when your kiss with him suddenly crept back into your mind, unknowing of the reason why excitement and electricity shot throughout your body because of it. The way his soft, full lips met yours, mouthed at you tastefully repeated in your head, making you extremely nervous at how much a measly kiss from him was occupying your mind; it was just a kiss.

Taehyung found himself tensing by the intimacy of the moment, remembering the way he so boldly kissed you. He found that he liked the plush of your lips, the way he had to bend down to your smaller height to lock lips; and it made him feel strange.

How the hell was he taking interest in something other than his work? No, this isn’t interest, Taehyung thought, and would spend however long denying it.

He’d finished the task throughout all his thinking, unrealizing of how proximal he was to you. He oddly hated that the moment was over, coming back down to Earth.

“There you go.” He cleared his voice and stepped away from you.

You held your bodice up against your chest, realizing Taehyung had a full-access view of your back and you grew 10x hotter. You gulped at the thought before hastily turning around to thank him, quickly disappearing into the bathroom for a moment of reprieve.

You shut the door and instantly breathed out a breath you didn’t remember holding, looking at your hot mess of a face in the mirror trying to cool down, reliving the last 10 minutes of what just happened.

You took a deep breath.

Maybe Taehyung is different after all.

prev. ↞ || ↠ next || masterlist

#thebtswritersclub #bangtanhq #kwritersworldnet #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #taehyung scenario #taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung #taehyung arranged marriage au

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silksandcravats · 4 years

Text

Minor Disagreements

Summary: A short piece in which Flip cannot possibly understand why you might want to live in a van...

masterlist

warnings: explicit language, female reader, arguement, brief reference to sex

You and Flip were pretty different people, you’d known this since the beginning when you started dating. You were free-spirited and adventurous and Flip was down on the ground, head in the real world with his grown-up job and pessimistic realistic worldview. The two of you should mix about as well as oil and water, but for whatever reason, that wasn’t the case. Somehow you seemed to compliment each other.

You made his life exciting, you helped him explore his passions, You helped him get the full human experience. And he kept you from drifting off the edge. He shoved just enough routine in your life to keep you sane, and provided you a safe place you could run back too when “living the dream” fell through. You made life worth living and he made sure he was around to pick you up when you reached too far and got knocked down.

It really was all sunshine and rainbows between the two of you, except of course for the times when it wasn’t...

“You’re out of your damn mind.”

“Oh come on honey think about it! The world is so big! I could see so much of it!” You gushed, you felt a tinge of sadness that your excitement wasn’t being met by your boyfriend.

“No, absolutely not,” he stated firmly.

“I wasn’t asking” you reply, feeling your blood begin to boil at his outright dismissive attitude.

“Don’t care, you’re not living in a fucking van, forget it.”

“You’re not even hearing me out Flip!” you pushed.

“You’re right, I’m not.” his response was entirely unapologetic.

“I am a grown woman Phillip, I can do whatever I want,” you snap.

“You sure can honey, but if you think for a second I’m gonna let you lock yourself in a box parked out in the open, where anyone who knows how to pick a car lock can get their hands on you-” his anger was quickly rising to match yours.

“It’s perfectly safe! Rosemary does it,” you cut him off.

“Like fuck it is,” he scoffed.

“What are you going to physically stop me?”

“Yes.” He spit it out, letting out a short bitter laugh as if it was obvious.

“You can’t stop me.”

“I will if I have to dearest!” He spit, the word “dearest” came out dripping with sarcasm. He was mocking you.

“I’ll leave you!” It was too far, you knew it was the moment it left your mouth, but you were so pissed at him for telling you what to do that you couldn’t take it back. You glared at him, waiting for his response, but he held back, instead throwing his hands up and walking out of the room.

It would be nice to say that you and Flip were the kind of couple who never went to bed angry with each other, but that wasn’t true. You were at a stage in your relationship where you spent most weekends over at his place. He had a busy work week and he didn’t always get to see you during the weekdays so it was your way of making sure you always got to see each other. It was a time both of you always cherished and looked forward to, and you both felt guilty for letting your special time together go to waste.

But neither of you could just swallow your pride and spit out an apology so you fell asleep, backs towards each other. There was no bedtime kiss, no goodnight bids. For the first time in as long as you could remember, you fell asleep on a Saturday night outside of Flip’s arms, and you both had a long, miserable night because of it.

And if you thought the guilt you had felt the night before was bad, it was quickly outshone by the deep sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you woke up Sunday morning.

The other side of the bed was cold and empty. It only makes sense that your Sunday morning ritual of being showered in sweet soft little pecks and being tugged impossibly closer against a big warm chest, and maybe a round or two of lazy sweet sex if you hadn’t gotten enough of each other the night before was forgone too.

You trudged down the stairs, trying to decide what to do about your heavy conscience. Threatening a breakup to get him to shut up was a low move, and he probably knew you didn’t mean it but that didn’t make it any less cruel. Flip’s job showed him the worst in this world and you knew he’d do anything to keep you safe. You still wanted that van life though.

When you arrived downstairs you found the house was empty, a little note sat on the counter. There, in Flip’s handwriting, sat a short message that told you everything you need to know.

Ran out to grab something, be back soon. I love you.

He couldn’t be too made then, you figured to yourself as you turned around to face his kitchen. You wanted to worm your way back into his heart and make things right, and you had a pretty good idea of how to get there.

30 minutes later the smell of something sweet filled the kitchen as you pulled a rack of banana nut muffins out of the oven. It was a recipe you knew you were good at, and Flip was a sucker for them. You turned off the oven, and decided to let them sit in the tray for a bit before you pulled them out of the tin.

You could swear he had some kind of 5th sense for things like this, because no sooner than you had finished did Flip come in through the front door. He pulled it shut behind him, following his nose through the house where he was sure to find whatever you had been baking, and you of course. He stepped into the kitchen cautiously, searching for clues to pick up your mood like the detective he is.

“I made you muffins.” You spoke first, your voice coming out almost shy. Your tone tugged at his heartstrings. He’d just come in to apologise to you and here you were baking to make things up to him.

“I’m sorry,” he responds, moving through the room towards you pulling you into him, “I was a bossy asshole,” he added what he was sorry for (you taught him that.) His embrace is a welcome change to the past nearly 24 hours of distance between the two of you.

“I’m sorry I threatened you,” You mumbled against him, slipping your arms around his waist to hug him back. “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know honey.” He shushed you, giving you a little squeeze.

“I got you something,” he added after a moment, making you pull back and look at him with curiosity.

“What is it?”

“Why don’t you come outside and see?” He reached behind you, pulling a still-very-much-hot muffin out of the tin and walking back to the front door, knowing you were close behind. Just before you reached the door he grabbed your wrist, pulling you in front of him and clamping his massive palm over the top of your face covering your eyes.

You were so excited you nearly squealed. You reached out blindly behind you and grasped him, holding onto him as you stumbled blindly onto the front porch. Suddenly his hand was pulled away, you blink quickly, readjusting to the bright sun that was now about halfway up in the sky.

When your eyes refocused the first thing they landed on was a shiny VW bus in your favorite color parked in the driveway. You gasped in surprise, hands flying up to cover your mouth.

“Phil you didn’t.”

“You can’t live in it,” he stated quickly, still behind you. “But it’s all yours.” He reached around you, waving the key in your face. “And I’ll follow you wherever you wanna go, baby.”

tags: @aloneandsleepless @maryforyou @emeraldsiren20

#this was self indulgent af #I want to live in a van SO BAD #my writing #zimmermansbrat #flip zimmerman fic #adam driver fluff #flip x reader #flip zimmerman imagine #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip Zimmerman x you

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

Text

Raise the Stakes, Part One

So this is a sequel to Place Your Bets. It's actually just the first part of a sequel because I'm trying to publish things in shorter segments. Time is valuable and I know it can be tricky to sit down and read through someone's 8,000-word opus.

That said, you will have to read Place Your Bets first or this isn't going to make any sense.

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC with mentioned Jay White x OFC

Word count: 1,641

Content advisory: Brief sexual references, Jay being an emotionally abusive asshole

You’ve tried three or four times to reconcile the pay statement from New Japan with the list of expenses you submitted for Jay last week. They’re different. The check is lower than it should be and even though it’s not by a lot, this sort of thing drives Jay mental and he’s been in such a mood since you dared go on a date that you’re going to extraordinary lengths to try to pacify him.

If anything, you feel like making more of an effort is making him harder on you. He’s had you working practically around the clock, thinking nothing of waking you up in the middle of the night to demand you find some obscure record, or complaining that he doesn’t understand something. He’s demanded you reschedule every appointment you’ve made for him at least once, so that everyone who’s relying on you so that they can work with him has been screaming at you.

So you’re exhausted and anxious and you can’t figure out why you have a check that doesn’t match your invoice because the accounting department here codes everything differently, so the amounts per line are combined or split up in ways you don’t understand and you have to patch it back together. It’s impossible.

The thing is, you’ve done it before. The expense checks are screwed up 4 times out of 5 and it’s always a chore that takes you hours to resolve. You’ve done this when you’ve been travelling nonstop for a day, when Jay has been screaming at you for hours, and when you’ve been surviving on coffee and stubbornness. The difference now is that you’re distracted.

In the years you’ve had this job, you’ve never felt distracted this way. You keep replaying your night with Finlay in your mind and you catch yourself smiling like an idiot at the way your stomach flips. Despite the fact that Jay’s been keeping you on a tight leash, you’ve caught plenty of glimpses of David around the place. Sometimes, you’ll pass close enough that you catch a whiff of his soft amber-y cologne and your skin shivers. And you look. Jay isn’t interested enough in you to watch you closely enough to see what you’re doing as long as he knows he can order you around whenever he feels like it.

David looks back, too, with a sly smile or a wink. He actually has to be a little more cautious about it because Jay has been watching him since their New Japan Cup match, already fantasizing about revenge. But he has his techniques. He’ll glance over and lock eyes with Jay before letting them drift to you. The looks you exchange feel almost as intimate as when the two of you were naked in his bed together.

You’ve sent a couple of cryptic text messages back and forth but David’s perfectly aware that Jay will flip through your phone without even asking because he considers it his property. It’s killing you, always being in each other’s orbit and being unable to do anything about it. But more importantly, it’s distracting you from work.

You’re standing over the table, using a pencil to note where you think the things from your invoice have been entered on the payment statement when your breath catches. There’s that scent in the room with you, easing close behind you until you feel a strong pair of arms close around you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he murmurs into your skin.

You exhale and let yourself melt into him, resting your hands over his as you incline your head back.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” you breathe.

He holds you a little tighter.

“I have to go back to the States to do some Impact shows. I’ll be gone a few weeks.”

You whine quietly.

“I’m leaving tomorrow night.”

“It’s not fair.”

He hums and kisses his way up your neck, making your whole body tremble.

“Any chance you could sneak out tonight?”

“I’d like to see someone try and stop me.”

“The slave driver won’t be happy.”

“I cannot tell you how little I care right now.”

He loosens his hold and you take the opportunity to turn around, touching your lips to his as you’ve been longing to do for days. You peck at each other a few times, smiling, both of your eyes lit from within.

“I’m in room-“

“I know what room you’re in,” you grin.

“Are you stalking me?”

“Damn right I am.”

You give in to the urge to kiss a little more urgently until a noise at the door has you jumping apart like reversed magnets.

You’re terrified it’s Jay because you are in no way ready for that showdown. But it’s Sanada coming to get a drink from the vending machine. He cocks an eyebrow at the two of you, which is enough to let you know that he’s aware of the nature of what he’s interrupted.

It isn’t a problem, though. He doesn’t talk to Jay unless they have a match and even then it’s only going over the game plan. He’ll gossip to his LIJ buddies but it’ll stay within their tight little circle. They'd rather laugh at Jay behind his back.

When he leaves, David takes your hand and the two of you are smiling like teenagers again.

“Guess I should run away before we really get caught.”

You kiss him, fervently, and you’re hardly able to pull yourself away.

“I’ll text you when I know what time I can escape.”

You’re both blushing as he exits the room. When you turn around to face your payment problem, you could swear it’s gotten more complicated than it was before.

“I need you to reschedule that appointment with the physio guy to Thursday,” Jay grumbles.

He’s been hovering since he came in, although he hasn’t been quite as obstreperous as usual, muttering to himself or to his game console rather than outright trying to interrupt you. You could take your work to your room but then he would be texting and calling you all the time, assuming that you weren’t working if he couldn’t see it. You’re still trying to untangle the knots of the expense report and it’s tantalizingly close. You’ve gotten nearly this far a couple of times only to be forced to backtrack and re-evaluate but this time you can see your way through; just a couple of twists and tugs and you’ll have it all smoothed out.

You roll your eyes at the sound of Jay’s voice, content that he can’t see your face from his vantage point.

“We’ve been through this, Jay. This guy is a specialist they’ve brought in and his schedule’s been set by the company. No changes, no exceptions.”

“Well you need to ask, at least,” he huffs.

“Why? All it’s going to do is aggravate management and you won’t get what you ask for.” You pivot to face him. “Why would you even want to change it?”

“I have something I want to do on Wednesday, not that it’s any of your business. I’d rather see him on Thursday.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

You fully expect from the look on his face that he’s going to lose it and start screaming about how you’re just there to do what he says. But though his lips twitch and his nostrils flare. He says nothing. Perhaps this is it. Perhaps this is the week that he fires you and replaces you with someone new who’ll do everything he says and flatter his ego without the attitude you’re prone to giving him. A couple of times, he’s told you that you were fired in a rage, only to contact you hours later and start grumpily giving you orders again. He never apologizes when this happens but he’s always a little quieter and less belligerent for a few days.

This nonverbal fury is something new, so maybe it’s a sign that the end is nigh. Maybe you’ll suddenly find a way to reinvent yourself without Jay White in your life. Take a calligraphy class. Teach English at some private business school. Get a dog. Have a relationship with someone who could love you back.

With that in mind, you force yourself to work out the final parts of the project that’s haunted you all day. You’re so happy when it’s done, when you understand exactly what’s missing and what you need to tell them to have it corrected, that you want to stand up and cheer and pat yourself on the back because god knows that no one else will.

Normally, you’d email the head office right away and go through everything you’ve found in concise bullet points to make sure you’re understood but instead, you close your laptop and stand up.

“Right,” you say breezily, “I'm off then.”

“Off where?” he growls without looking at you. “Another date?”

“Actually, yes.”

“This is becoming a problem.”

“No, it isn’t. I’ve done everything that’s required of me. I’ve jumped through every insane hoop, dodged every trap you’ve given me. You know perfectly well that the fact that I’ve been… that I’ve… There is no issue with my work.”

“I say it’s becoming a problem and in this equation, I’m the only one who matters.”

His reflexive cruelty always hits you right in the stomach, like you’re in the ring with him, and knowing that you have someone who wants to be with you and wants to please you doesn’t dull that at all.

“I matter Jay,” you say quietly. “I just don’t matter to you.”

You see a muscle in his beck twitch but even though you give him a moment, he says nothing. And it’s a painful realization that the only reason you’re waiting is in the desperate hope that he’ll contradict you, that he’ll surprise you for once in his life.

#njpw fanfic #njpw imagine #jay white fanfic #jay white imagine #david finlay fanfic #david finlay imagine #wayward wrestle writing #wrestling fanfic #wrestling imagine

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the12thnightproject · 3 years

Text

Twelve Lies I Told Shingen Takeda, Chapter Four: Occupational Hazards

Katsuko delivers dessert to Shingen, she receives bad news in return. Also, archery, and a blindfold. TW: Offscreen death

“Halt!”

With his mouth set in a determined line, Yuki barred my progress toward Shingen’s room. Every time I tried to go around him, he leaped to block me like a goalie defending a football net. “Where are you going with that?”

Since I was carrying a handful of messages and a basket of pastry, I thought it should be obvious. “Don’t ask a question you already know the answer to.”

Yuki looked over his shoulder and scowled in the direction of Shingen’s room. “I see he’s already trying to bypass my orders by sending you out for dessert.”

“Your orders?” When did he join the calorie cops? “Why? Is there something wrong with these?” No one in the shop had seemed to have any issue with them.

“It’s not good for him to eat that many sweets, that’s all.” Yuki reached for the basket, presumably to confiscate the contraband, but I scooted out of the way.

“Really? He looks like he’s in good shape.” Really, really good shape. My job is to stay observant, so observing that Shingen is a decent specimen is an occupational hazard – especially given all of the pec airing that he does.

At that exact moment, the Occupational Hazard stepped out of his room, and there’s no way that he could have avoided hearing my comment, so I looked him right in the eyes, and tacked on, “for his age.”

I know. That was petty of me. But I was still angry at that setting me up to be killed thing. On an intellectual level I knew his “black powder test” had been a perfectly logical strategy, but what if I had gotten that powder on my hands by accident? Would he or Chiyome have killed me anyway?

With his back to Shingen, Yuki considered blithely on. “That’s not the point. He refuses to watch-.” Yuki got a look at my face, then sighed. “He’s behind me again, isn’t he?”

I nodded, as for the second time that day, Shingen thwacked Yuki on the back of his head. He eyed the confections. “Thank you, Katsu. I think I look like I’m in good shape too. For any age. Also, your former master was correct in his assessment that you’re insubordinate.”

That could simply be the adrenaline rush of being not-dead.

On my way back to the castle I had considered his distrust of me. If I acted overly deferential, slinking around with my voice quiet and my eyes downcast, that would be more suspicious than if I were just my own, unfiltered, slightly insubordinate self. Maybe it’s a cliché, but in this case, the best defense would be a solid offense.

“Bring that inside,” Shingen motioned to the basket. “I’m dying for dessert.” At Shingen’s beckon, Yuki and I followed him back to his room, where I deposited my prize onto his writing desk (GOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLLL!). Shingen immediately dug in with the attitude of a man starving in the desert. Then, he tipped the basket towards us. “Help yourselves.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Yuki said. He continued to glare at the confections as if they had caused him a great insult.

The smell of the pastry had been torturing me all the way back from the shop – I honestly can’t remember the last time I had dessert… four years ago… maybe? I gratefully took him up on the offer, picked up the closest dumpling, and took a decent bite. My blood sugar level instantly tripled. Apparently Shingen has the palate of a nine year old boy. “Oh my God,” I managed to say.

Help!

“I know, right? Yuki doesn’t know what he is missing.” He fished around the basket for another sweet bun.

Tooth decay and a diabetic coma – that’s what he’s missing.

“Yuki can live with the deprivation,” said the man in question, who was clanking around in the fire pit.

Shingen pointed out the various treats. “If you like that one, then you have to taste this – they make it with red bean paste.”

“I’m still savoring the one I have.” I took as small a bite as I could get away with. I doubted I could realistically fake an mmmm noise. I’m a great liar – but there are limits to my talent.

Yuki discreetly passed me a cup of tea. Bless you, Yuki. Eager to change the subject before Shingen could ask me for a more detailed opinion on his beloved sugar grenades, I handed over his messages and reports.

I still hadn’t worked out how I was going to manage to secretly pass along the new information from Aki. Maybe it wouldn’t be necessary? Shingen had taken the sniper prisoner, so presumably the man was in the castle dungeon. Maybe he had already confessed to the assassination plot. “Have you questioned the man who tried to rob you last night?”

Shingen glanced up from a report he was scanning. “Unfortunately not. His wound turned septic and he hasn’t regained his senses.”

“Oh.” It was a good thing that I was already sitting down – otherwise I might have collapsed. I pictured the sniper as I had last seen him, moaning because an arrow - my arrow – had impaled his hand. I looked down at my own hand, a hand that not too long ago had born the imprint of a tokin. Tentatively I wiggled my fingers, imagining how it must have felt to feel the bite of metal tearing into it. If the sniper’s wound was gangrenous, then he’d probably lose his hand, maybe even-- “Is he likely to survive?”

Shingen looked at me like he was weighing several responses, before saying, “No. I doubt he will.”

So now, in addition to being a liar, I was also a killer.

I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. I hadn’t meant to kill anyone, but that didn’t change the outcome. It suddenly felt like there were no nerves in my fingertips, but at the same time, internally I was feeling everything – shock, regret, guilt – in a swirl of emotion that roared in my ears. The sweet pastry that had fallen like a rock into my stomach threatened to reverse course.

I killed someone. Someone who was alive two days ago will not be alive tomorrow because of me.

When I re-opened my eyes, Shingen was still silently regarding me. I wondered if he had ever – well, that was a ridiculous thought. He was the leader of the Takeda clan – he had to have killed many in battle. “Does it get easier?”

Yukimura shook his head and responded first. “No. Never has.” He cleared his throat a couple of times, and gulped down his tea.

But Shingen had a different answer. “Killing? Yes. You learn to put what must done in one part of your mind, separate from the you that lives through every day, walled away from your heart. You have to, or one day you’ll no longer be able to function. But it’s still within you.” He tapped his chest. “It’s still within you.”

I understood. I was going to have to live with this. I was going to have to learn how to live with it.

Shingen sighed, and raked his hair out of his eyes. “I won’t insult you by telling you this man was a criminal and probably has harmed or killed many others. You know that. You also now know what it’s like to kill and that will weigh upon you.”

It did. I appreciated the fact that he didn’t tell me to get over it, or offer a cliched platitude like, ‘war is hell, kid.’ He was treating me like the young man he thought me to be – and I needed to respond accordingly. “Yes, sir, it does.”

His eyebrows lifted at my return to formality. “I would have respected you less if it didn’t bother you.”

“I didn’t shoot to kill him, but I knew that every time I picked up a weapon, I faced that possibility. But – I never understood what that knowledge meant. I hadn’t expected the possible to ever become a reality.” I wondered if I could have avoided this outcome. “Maybe if I had aimed at the musket and not his hand,” I said, mostly to myself. I mentally placed myself back in that tree, remembered how excited I had felt at being part of something. I’d even somewhat joked with myself about adding ghostly noises. It had almost felt like a game. Target shooting… except the targets breathed and bled.

Again that tingling in the ends of my fingertips. I scraped my hands across the tatami mat, hoping that feel of the straw would ground me. Something nudged my arm: Yuki, offering me more tea. I shook my head.

Shingen allowed me another moment to wallow, then seemed to come to a decision. He tapped his hand on his desk to get my attention. “If that was anything more than a lucky – or unlucky, depending how you look at it – shot,” Shingen said, his words challenging my dark mood, “I will swear off confections for a week.”

Wait…. What? The sudden reversal in his tone nearly gave me whiplash, shocking me out my emotional turmoil.

I couldn’t let that affront to my archery skills stand. Insult my swordplay all you want, but I’m absolutely accurate with a bow. “That arrow went right where I intended it to go. I’ve made harder shots blindfolded.”

“Get your weaponry then and meet me on the grounds as soon as you can.” He got up and headed for the door, his long legs crossing the distance in three strides.

Once he was gone, I looked at Yuki, who had been quiet through this entire conversation. “Did he just challenge me?”

“Not sure, but if you win, I’m holding him to that no-dessert-for-a-week penalty.” Yuki thumped me on the shoulder. “So, you’ve gotta win.”

***

Not a duel. It was much, much worse than that, I discovered a short while later, when I arrived to face what appeared to be at least half the residents of the castle, and a field set up with five targets in varying sizes placed further and further back.

With a dramatic bow, Shingen addressed the spectators. “Greetings my friends and” … another bow to Mai who was cuddled up with Kenshin, “Goddess.” He then gestured to me. “My newest recruit has been bragging about his prowess with a bow. And since it’s such a beautiful day outside, it seems a perfect occasion to test him on this.”

No pressure there. Thanks boss.

Yuki, who had taken the whole “no-dessert” thing to heart, was pacing out the distance to the targets. Not exactly necessary, but since he’d been getting on my nerves, bouncing around my peripheral vision like a boxer’s trainer before the title match, I told him to go for it.

“Katsuhira will demonstrate the skills of accuracy and distance.” Shingen continued, while the vassal who this morning had held the bets was already running a book on this show as well. I noted Sasuke was first in line, and hoped that this time, he was betting on me, not against.

Yuki trotted back to me and said, “forty paces for the small targets, going all the way back to 150 for the big ones in the back.” Not even 100 meters, then. The targets Aki had had me practicing on were closer to 150, so this shouldn’t be a challenge – I mean, it wasn’t like they were asking me to bullseye whomp rats from a T-16. However, I would have liked to have been warned before this whole thing started, because I was getting tired of warlords and spymasters making decisions about my life without consulting me, but…details.

“Thanks Yuki. Better go place your bet and get that no-dessert thing in writing.”

While everyone got in on the betting action, I stood there trying to shut the world out. It was easier to pretend I was back at The Mountain, staring at the targets set out in front of the pear trees and the stables that I would have to repair if I missed a shot. There wasn’t any wind today, which was one thing I wouldn’t have to worry about. There was, however, a caterpillar crawling across my toes, but having killed one life form this week, I wasn’t about to compound that by killing another, so I ignored it.

I progressively narrowed my focus until it was a straight line from me to the first target. Then, without turning my head I said to Shingen. “Ready.”

“Not so fast.”

What? What now?

With my tunnel vision destroyed, I turned to look at him. He smiled and there was a hint of mockery in that look that boded ill for me. He turned to Mai, who handed him a long strip of fabric. “You did say you could have made that shot blindfolded.”

I had said that, yes indeed. Note to self. Stay away from hyperbole when discussing your skills.

I have trained a lot blindfolded, as Aki’s got an entire Jedi Master type philosophy when it comes to archery. But this was an unfamiliar field, and I needed a warm-up. “Practice shots first, without the blindfold,” I bargained.

“Fair enough.”

I turned back to the targets and sent ten arrows in succession zipping toward the targets, trying to set muscle memory. I missed my second and seventh shots, but hit the rest. Ok. I could do this. I would prefer not to have to do this in front of an audience with less than thirty minutes warning, but… I can do this.

“Ready,” I said again, this time not moving an inch from where I was standing, keeping my mental focus trained on where I felt – no, where I knew - the targets were. The tranquil air settled my senses, keeping me detached from everything except my bow and the inner vision of the targets.

Then Shingen stepped behind me, nearly as close as a hug, his body radiating heat, to tie the blindfold around my head. His breath and voice glided into my ear asking if I could see. Then he tightened it for good measure, and… there it was, a jolt that I felt when those warm, calloused fingers accidentally brushed across my face.

Reverb.

Ok, hormones, you and I need to have a long talk about choices... and timing.

Full text of the chapter posted on Tumbr this time; this chapter, previous chapters and prologue available on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32812042?view_full_work=true

#ikemen sengoku fanfiction #ikesen shingen #ikesen yukimura #ikesen fanfiction #ao3 link

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seyaryminamoto · 4 years

Text

Matching Heartbeats: Sokkla Saturdays 2020

Day 4: Lost in a Forest and Feelings

On FF.net//On AO3

Trudging through the thick trees, staring at that broad, strong back, Azula couldn't quite keep at bay her suspicions that, regardless of her stubborn companion's claims of the opposite, they were lost in the woods, with no salvation in sight.

He wasn't a woodlands savage, she'd told him, he was a snow savage: she'd believe him if he said they weren't lost while they traversed a large, frozen continent, but she wouldn't quite be so lenient if he said the same while in a forest, of all places. And of course, there was no chance they'd find his missing sword in a large, frozen continent unless someone had already retrieved it from these woods and taken it there, for whatever reason.

Not for the first time, she asked herself why she had bothered coming along for what everyone, even her brother, had deemed a pointless, doomed enterprise. Guilty as she appeared to feel about the matter, Toph had been far too busy with her budding police department in Republic City to join Sokka's quest. Aang was ever ferried from one end of the world to the next by his Avatar duties, and Katara had to cover for him in the city while he was gone: Zuko, of course, was the Fire Lord, and there was no chance he'd take any sorts of flights of fancy and disregard his duty to his nation just on a personal trip that might yield no results… well, that is, if the trip was for a friend's sake rather than his own, Azula had interjected, and her reminder of how he had been perfectly willing to leave their nation in their uncle's most undependable hands while they searched for their mother had been as unwelcome as she could have expected.

All in all, she had meant to offer some moral support to the tall Water Tribe man by cutting down Zuko's excuses and dismissive attitude towards Sokka's plight… but nothing she said seemed to work. Sokka kept looking at her with those dead-like eyes that only convinced her that she wanted to be dead, too. She wondered, truly, if he was different while she wasn't around. If he was happier, cheerful, relaxed… rather than miserable, awkward and tense. If so… why had she even bothered coming along for this trip? Was it merely pity over how he'd sworn he'd go alone if no one wanted to give him a hand? If so, it was no true wonder he had been so aloof and irritated so far, for no man as proud as him would ever accept pity and charity without consequence.

Yet she had decided to come along indeed. And now, it seemed, she reaped what she had sowed, in more ways than she had expected to: it wasn't merely that she was uncomfortable about hiking through nature this far from civilization – she found herself missing the train-tank, with which she had traversed large territories of the Earth Kingdom in the past without the slightest inconvenience –, but Sokka wouldn't travel on the vehicle, not when their mission was explicitly about rummaging throughout Wulong Forest until they finally came across his beloved Space Sword.

Her strained muscles had seen plenty of exercise over the ten years that had passed since the end of the war, but not quite in this manner: she forced herself to walk behind him, keeping up with his pace as best she could, until at last that strong back, that at this point was nearly a beacon in the darkening forest, slowed to a halt as Sokka assessed his surroundings in a clearing within the woods. Azula damn near bumped into him, but she managed to stop right behind him anyway.

"Seems like a good place to camp for the night," he announced. "It's getting too dark to keep going anyhow."

"Just how much further are we supposed to go, anyway?" Azula asked, as Sokka approached the larger tree in the clearing, setting down his bags at its foot. "Have you narrowed down the searching area at all, or are we merely going blind all across Wulong Forest…?"

"I've narrowed some of it down, yeah," Sokka huffed, opening his pack to show her a map he had brought with him. "We'll search thoroughly throughout the area once we get there. But we're still too far north to be near Space Sword's location."

"Of course," Azula sighed, setting down her own bags next to his. "You do realize this might be a longer venture than you hoped?"

"Why would it be? Your brains and mine, together? Who's ever going to stop us, huh?" Sokka said, though there was no humor in his tone upon uttering those questions.

Azula tensed up beside him as he rose fully to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. What was he thinking? Why had he spoken as he had just now? Yes, it was a certainty that they were smarter than most people, and joining forces might just be enough for them to find his sword… but it didn't seem he was all that pleased for it anyway. She let herself wonder, briefly, if he wished they wouldn't find the sword all that fast so they could spend more time together… did he begrudge their intelligence for such a fickle reason?

Oh, what nonsense. Of course that wasn't it. She was a fool to so much as indulge in such a possibility.

"I think I see some water beyond these trees," Sokka said, gesturing at the cluster of vegetation behind the tree they had stopped at. "Could be we can wash up there. It's one of the reasons I thought we should slow down here for the night…"

"Ah. So, we truly aren't lost in this forest, are we?" Azula asked. Sokka tensed up. "You knew there was a river up there?"

"Uh… well, I didn't know, I just decided we'd stop at the first place with water we came across once it was sunset," he said. Azula huffed.

"So we are lost."

"I didn't say that!" he squeaked.

Despite herself, Azula smiled. Eliciting such silly reactions from him was strange, but very welcome. It almost felt as though she hadn't pushed him away when she had… as though things could go back to the way they once had been.

"Ugh, anyway, you can go clean up if you want, I know all that dirt and sweat must make you uncomfortable," Sokka said, waving a hand towards her. "I'll set up my tent in the meantime. If you need help with yours, I can give you a hand after I clean up too…"

"Why would I need help?" Azula said, raising her eyebrows dismissively. "I'm perfectly capable of assembling a tent by myself."

"I didn't say you weren't," Sokka raised his hands defensively before starting to rummage through his bag for the implements he'd need for his tent.

His tone was disappointingly non-confrontational. Just after giving her hope, he took it away: she had expected a whole throwdown about how there was nothing wrong with asking people for help, or how he was sure she was a pampered princess who had never had to do anything mundane for herself… but nothing. He had shut down yet another possible conversation, and she was left high and dry, waiting for nothing.

"If that's how it is, then… yes, I'll go clean up," Azula declared, attempting to hide how disappointing his response had been. "Make sure not to peek, alright?"

"Nothing new under the sun there, is there?" Sokka said. Azula froze. "You have nothing to worry about, I won't do that, I'll only go after you're finished. Ten minutes will probably be enough."

"You know just how long I spend bathing, then?" Azula nearly hissed by now. Sokka shrugged.

"I remember, is all," he said. "Ten minutes might even be too much in these circumstances, I'd say…"

"I'll take as long as I please, thank you very much," Azula scowled, searching her own bags for a change of clothes. Suddenly, the last thing she wanted was to hold a conversation despite having spent the whole day fishing for one.

"I'll go after I'm finished setting up my tent, then," Sokka said. "And if you're not out yet, don't worry. I'm not going to look anyway."

She snapped her tongue before storming off without another word. Well, that was his loss, if so.

The words rang hollow in her mind as she walked thoughtlessly towards the water source… a lake, not a river, as she discovered upon reaching it. She wasted little time disrobing, despite she was far from accustomed to loosening her clothing in the middle of nature as she just had. But with a mind as troubled as hers, sometimes even the notions of dignity and pride went forgotten once she had something else to worry about.

No, truthfully, it wasn't his loss. It never had been his loss. He was as good as the perfect guy, without embodying some impossible, unreasonable ideal: Sokka had been kind, thoughtful, intelligent, unyielding… he was the perfect rival for her many instincts and impulses. Just so, each of those factors drew her to him in ways they shouldn't have… but the one thing that drew her most was his honesty. So many people were capable of lying to her face, they'd done it for years, without her awareness… others lied far less effectively, pretending to care about her, but she could tell, by their actions, by their behavior, that they were merely telling themselves as much, to chase away their own guilt about having abandoned her when she had needed them most. She couldn't trust anyone, that was what she'd told herself…

And yet, against all common sense, she had grown to trust him. Upon scheming a mischievous prank to torment her brother – her special kind of birthday present, as she'd thought of it at the time –, she found her plan had overlapped with his: in the end, they joined forces and Zuko had quite an unforgettable day chasing off turtle ducks in the Palace, and tripping over the droppings they had left all over the place while panicking while attempting to find their way out of the building. From that day forward, they had been allies, messing with their friends and family whenever the chance arose, not realizing they were drifting together in more ways than they'd originally planned…

She never did expect to wake up in his bed one day, and she suspected he never expected that, either. She kept her distance for a few days afterwards, and he didn't complain… which bothered her, of course. Upon cornering him for answers, he admitted he wouldn't push her for more than they'd had, considering she ran away from his bedroom even before he woke up. He had assumed it was a one-night-stand for her… and he had teasingly remarked that he wouldn't mind if she decided to make it a two-night-stand instead.

That number, of course, only continued to increase upon each of their encounters. Every time he paid a visit to the Fire Nation, on any official business, she'd find a chance to sneak into his room, or to drag him into hers, and they would both be in the highest spirits on the next day, trading silent smirks whenever they crossed paths again. For a time, Azula had thought this was the greatest of all pranks they had pulled so far, for her whole family, and his, would be so appalled to discover what they'd been up to in secret…

… Until one night, as he laid in bed behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, he had uttered words that shattered her whole world in a single instant:

"I love you."

She thought to pretend she was asleep, though her eyes were still open, and she knew he could see it. He sensed her breath hitching too, her heartbeats picking up speed… there was no way she could pretend she hadn't heard him. And yet, as he nestled behind her, fingers caressing her hair, she couldn't bring herself to answer. She couldn't say the words that were crossing her mind… because there was only one word, truthfully. And that word was simply: why?

Why would he love her? Why would he admit that he loved her? Why would he even think it was a good idea to say such words to her? Why on earth had he decided to say it right then and there? Why, why, why…?

And yet she knew she couldn't say any of what she was thinking. She didn't dare. She didn't truly want to hear his answers to those questions.

For he was honest, yes, that was the first thing she had known she liked about him. He wasn't the type to lie, whether to spare her feelings or his own. He hadn't said those words on a whim: he had likely carried them inside him for ages, blurting them out as he had, unthinking, because he couldn't contain the emotions anymore. And yet… she couldn't accept it. She simply couldn't accept it.

Instead of lying quietly there, of staying put in his bed, silently enduring the panic attack his words had triggered in her, she sat up and left. She avoided him for the rest of his visit, pointedly… and she didn't even say goodbye, when he finally left.

She needed time. That was it, she guessed: time to process his affections, time to understand how on earth he had ever reached such levels of devotion towards her. And she should have simply told him that, right? And yet how on earth does someone answer an "I love you" with "Give me time to think about it"? She didn't dare do that. And yet perhaps, if she had dared, he wouldn't have been hurt. It was almost a whole year before he returned to the Fire Nation again, and when he did, he scarcely spared her a few glances. She had sent him no letters while he was away, and he had sent her none either. Was he confused? Was he angry? Was he depressed? She couldn't tell anymore. All she could tell, however, was that he seemed to have decided he wouldn't dwell on the past anymore, and he wouldn't indulge in any hopes that something genuine could come from their casual relationship.

She had tried to interpret that as a sign to move on and forget about him. Perhaps he truly hadn't loved her at all – not that she had truly believed he could have loved her, she believed he THOUGHT he did, but she was quite certain that was, all in all, implausible on every possible level. So she had decided to shake it all off, to continue with her life… and yet it wasn't easy to do so. They had met a few more times since then, and every cold shoulder, every dismissive word, every plain interaction between them, with no hint of the old affection he used to line his words with, had felt like a frozen dagger digging deeper through her heart.

And that was, ultimately, why she had offered to travel with him to retrieve his sword. It was a strange way to attempt to mend fences, she knew… but she hadn't known what else to do to stop the pain she felt when she saw him. She hadn't known how else to tear down the walls that he had built between them… walls she had as good as asked him to build, in the first place.

Suffice to say, it wasn't going as she had planned, not in the least. She had hoped to entice him, perhaps… but he seemed to be completely invulnerable to her charms by now. He knew all her tricks, and was utterly unwilling to fall for any of them. Had she really pushed him away that hard, that violently…? Or was it, perhaps, that he had already found someone else? Maybe that was it, and she was wasting her time here…

"If so, why isn't he here with his new girlfriend instead of me?" Azula reasoned out loud, just before dipping one toe in what turned out to be a near-freezing lake. She snarled before raising her hands, quickly warming the water with her bending.

She managed to warm the water she would use, spreading the heat through the small lake until she found a comfortable enough spot, with her torso still above water. He wasn't wrong, she didn't quite enjoy all the dirt that clung to her after their whole day of hiking in this forest from the city of Garsai… but that he dared even comment on how long she usually bathed had surprised her. It was the first time he had acknowledged their relationship in any way, if just by admitting he knew Azula a little more intimately than anyone else was aware. Fool that she was, she had wistfully wondered if perhaps it meant he wasn't that unwilling to return to what they'd had… then he had shut everything down all the same, no thanks to her foolish responses.

She had no patience for these matters. She was far from the most sociable person there was, to begin with, and she was more than a bit tired of chasing after him, when every passing day further convinced her that he wanted nothing from her anymore. It was outrageous, though, wasn't it? If he truly had loved her at all, which no, she didn't think he had, why would he begrudge her for not saying the daft words right back at him? She was far from a connoisseur on the matter, but conditioned love didn't appear to be true love at all. Her relationship with her father was supposed to be the clearest example of that, or so every damn expert at that wretched asylum had insisted on drilling into her head until she had begrudgingly accepted it as a reality.

So, as far as she could tell, he was a selfish hypocrite, and he was trying to guilt her into loving him. Ha! That was utterly stupid, and he was playing a losing game, if so. He prized honesty as much as he did, didn't he? Why would she bother lying to his face to make him feel better? He would know it was a lie immediately, so he'd only grow more frustrated with her if she played the mild-mannered, sweet girl who could become a housewife and live happily that way, if only to spare his thrice-accursed feelings…

Caught in her thoughts, she often forgot to warm the water again, and in the process of overthinking and warming the water, she had damn near forgotten, too, what she was supposed to be doing in this damn lake in the first place. She returned to shore, gathered some soap, and traversed the lake to the spot she had liked once again… only to hear rustling of tree leaves that indicated someone was approaching.

She almost wished it were a wild animal, then she could have merely set it ablaze and been done with it… but upon quickly turning her head around, she found, of course, that it was him. Sokka glanced at her but raised his hands defensively before turning around. Azula gritted her teeth and tore her eyes away from him too, knowing he was disrobing… knowing she wanted to see it happen, too. Curse him for being such a sensitive idiot…

Or was she the sensitive idiot, instead? She hadn't known for sure who was at fault back then, and she didn't have any clarity on the matter now, either.

She heard him slipping inside the water, and she only endeavored to continue rubbing the soap over her arms and torso, pointedly ignoring the urge to glance at the body she had grown used to caressing and gazing upon for as long as their dalliance had lasted… just how long had it been, really? She barely knew anymore. A little more than a year, maybe? Who the hell said "I love you" within less than a year of secretly dating someone, if what they were doing could amount to dating?

Ugh, well, how was she supposed to know that, truly? Mai had outright spat to her face that she loved Zuko more than she feared Azula, and those two had only been together for months at the time… had she told Zuko she loved him, directly, by then? Maybe she had. Such nonsense…

"You sure take your time bathing out in nature, huh?" he said suddenly, startling her. "Didn't take you for the type to be that bold when the whole world could see you…"

"Bold? Hardly," Azula rebuffed, and she chided her own heart for beating that fast upon being addressed by him again. What nonsense was that, too? "I'm taking my time because we were quite filthy after a whole day of hiking, don't you think?"

"Fair enough… though the water's colder than I'd think you'd be comfortable with," he said. "Though… heh. You're warming it up, aren't you?"

"Sharp as ever, I see," Azula said, rinsing off the soap already. Sokka chuckled.

"And you're either being sarcastic, which is just like you, or you're being flattering, which… is new. Just as taking baths that last longer than ten minutes would be new for you."

"You're awfully hung on that matter, aren't you?" Azula asked, rolling her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I've taken longer baths than that…"

"Sure you did. When you took them with me."

His words froze her anew. Again, that stupid, weaseling hope, needling through her body like a snake, seeking to dig its fangs into her damn heart… poisoned fangs, as far as she could tell. He had to stop it. He really did. At this rate they'd end up having the argument of the century, and she wasn't sure she cared to endure that, not when she was miles away from civilization with only him for company…

She'd tell him not to do that anymore, then. She would. She wasn't sure their conversation wouldn't escalate into an argument even if she said so, but if she spoke earnestly, surely he'd back off…?

She turned her head towards him, finding he stood about fifteen feet away from her. Again, that strong, muscular back was the sight that greeted her, and oh, what a sight it was…

But before she could utter a single word, a most unwanted, unfamiliar and distressing sensation on her arm stopped her from speaking.

She had no idea what it was at first, but it was uncomfortable from the first instant: something had latched onto her skin, tugging at it, as though sucking it… and her immediate instinct was to trash the affected arm into the water, instinctively panicking and seeking to get rid of whatever this strange offender was.

Only upon shaking her arm did she identify whatever clung to her arm as a purple, round being… a living being: there was an animal stuck to her arm.

"What's…?! Oh, no, no, get off me!"

She pushed it, smacked it, attempted to force it to loosen its grip on her skin, and yet it seemed her every violent reaction only compelled it to cling tighter. Curses, was it some sort of leech? Was it clinging to her now, only to stick some poisonous, murderous sting into her body…? Her eyes widened at the possibility, and she slammed it harder into the water, to no results.

"Go away, go away, you stupid, damned…!"

"Woah, Azula, what's going on?" Sokka called to her. Her first shouts had been alarming enough, but he had briefly taken her silence to mean she had dealt with the problem… apparently not, though.

"It's nothing, it's…! Shit, what is this?! Get off me, damn it, go away already!"

"Ugh, okay, you know what? I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on, and I think I need to," Sokka sighed, turning towards her. "I promise I'm not doing this to peek, just to help…!"

"W-well then, help! Find your damn sword and slice this wretched thing off me!" Azula almost shrieked, turning towards him and gesturing at him with her afflicted arm.

Yet to her surprise, there was no sign of urgency in Sokka's face when he identified the creature on Azula's arm. She damn near snapped at him for being so nonchalant when, for all she knew, her very life could be in danger… yet he surprised her by wading towards her and reaching for the creature.

"What are you…?" she asked, nervously, until her nervousness was replaced by sheer outrage… when Sokka scratched the strange, purple being's head. "Are you kidding me?! What are you doing?! Do you hate me so much you're congratulating the damn thing for…?!"

Sokka's deadpan stare didn't change in the least when the creature's five, flat tentacles released Azula suddenly. Her eyes widened as she stared at it, and Sokka snatched the creature off her body, showing it to her deliberately.

"This, Princess, is a pentapus," he stated. "And that's how you get rid of them. It's as simple as that."

Oh, to hell with it. Her outburst had been more than unwarranted, if the solution was truly that easy… and now she felt utterly idiotic for it, which she had no doubt her blush was transmitting to Sokka. She didn't even dare meet his eyes… hence, she was surprised upon hearing him laugh softly.

"Don't feel that bad, Azula. I reacted the same way when they stuck to me the first time, too," he said. "And it was way worse than this, if I may…"

"Worse?" Azula repeated. Sokka nodded solemnly.

"You know, a story worthy of a savage like me, of the sorts you love to make fun of me for," Sokka grinned. She had dared gaze up at him, and that he'd smile genuinely at her was… well, not unpleasant. For once. "It happened… in a sewer, of all places."

"In a… a sewer?" Azula asked, grimacing as Sokka chuckled, shaking his head.

"My dear sister and her beloved Avatar… those two jerks took to diverting the waste off themselves with their bending. And who's the guy who couldn't possibly get away with doing the same thing? That's right, the stellar non-bender who took all that… literal shit, straight to the face, in many cases."

"That's… ugh, that's so gross, Sokka!" Azula exclaimed, horrified as he laughed carelessly.

"It's okay, I've cleaned up many times since then, you don't have to worry that the gross waste still clings to me somehow…" he smiled. "Took me about ten rounds of proper soap as soon as I had a chance to clean up to get rid of the stench, but it worked in the end. No need to be too grossed out anymore."

"I only hope now that your creepy story is no sign of… well, of this lake being less pure than we expected it to be," Azula said, eyeing the waters warily. Sokka chuckled and shook his head.

"It's a bit too dark already to tell, but hey, this place is in the middle of a forest and it doesn't reek of waste… so it might not be that bad, huh?"

Azula gazed at him wistfully, at that smile… it was charming, she knew that from the start. She liked him well enough serious and brooding, there was more than enough charm in that too… but that smile. The chance to make him happy, even if just by being foolish, careless and clumsy, was a surprising blessing… one that now soothed her heart despite she had been troubled and anguished mere moments before he entered the water too. To think such a small, simple creature could have served as a harbinger of harmony between them… though, again, she shouldn't get her hopes up. That wouldn't be a good idea, no matter what…

"You're all done washing now, though?" Sokka asked. Azula snapped back to her senses upon those words. "If so…"

"I'll go fix my tent, yeah," Azula said, though Sokka bit his lip.

"I was actually going to ask if… if you could do me a favor," he blurted out. Azula frowned.

"A favor?" she asked.

"Well… the water's kind of chilly," he smiled awkwardly. "Can you, maybe, warm it up a little further? I mean, I would've asked all along if I'd thought we could just bathe at the same time without consequence, but I figured you wouldn't want that, so…"

"I wouldn't want that…?" she asked again. Sokka shrugged.

"You did tell me not to peek," he said. "I said there was likely nothing new for me to see, but if you didn't want me looking at you, I wasn't going to bother you…"

"That's… that's what you meant?" Azula asked, surprised. Sokka nodded.

"Why? What else did you think I meant?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Azula opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing. She was such an idiot when it came to this sort of thing, oh, she really was, and yet… how to speak at all? How to tell him that she kept saying things she didn't mean only to elicit reactions from people? But where she had once been able to read him like a book, now he was undecipherable to her…

The silence between them continued… until suddenly Sokka flinched, turning his head, hopelessly glancing at his back.

"Uh… crap. Oh crap. Azula? Is there a pentapus on my back too?" he asked, spinning in circles as he struggled to glimpse the creature. Azula blinked blankly before shaking her head rapidly.

"S-stop moving around, I can't get it if there is one!" she said, grabbing his flanks to stop him… and trying not to think of the implications of touching him. No, that was best stashed on her mind for later.

The pentapus was on his lower back: she nudged it with her finger at first, sighing before settling for caressing it properly instead… and then she felt another set of such tentacles around her ankle. Startled, she fell into the water when she lost balance, and that could only be bad news for her…

Sokka clasped her wrist and pulled her to him: their bodies slapped together, not with the erotic intent with which they had been in contact in the past, especially while naked. And while the thought crossed Azula's mind, it was but a fleeting thought nonetheless: Sokka's hands relocated to her shoulders, though he kept her close all the same.

"Did another one get you?" he asked. Azula grimaced and nodded.

"It's on my ankle," she said. Sokka huffed.

"Maybe we should just get out of the water, get rid of them on land," he suggested, before flinching. "Ack, another on the back of my knee and… woah, that's dirty! It's on my asscheek!"

Despite her own discomfort, that final claim of Sokka's caused Azula to burst into laughter as they stumbled towards the lake's shore together, squirming at the discomfort of the tentacles that stuck to their bodies, and wincing every time a new one caught either of their legs.

"Okay, okay! We're going to get rid of them all, one by one!" Sokka squeaked, once they reached the shore indeed: Azula had two more in one calf, and she grimaced while raising her leg, but Sokka pulled it towards him without even asking: he rubbed the two small pentapi until they detached, and then he cast them powerfully towards the lake, prompting Azula to chuckle at his powerful heave. "That's what you get! You can't touch a lady without permission, damn pentapus!"

"You didn't exactly ask for permission either, did you?" she smiled. Sokka blinked blankly and smiled guiltily at her.

"I figured, since it's an emergency…?"

That Azula was amused by the situation seemed to have defused some of their lingering tension: she reached for the pentapus that clung to his rear, and Sokka grimaced as Azula succeeded at pulling it off his body. He continued working with hers too, ridding her of the pentapus on her ankle, and Azula did away with the one behind the knee he couldn't flex anymore because of it. It was a gradual process, and one that forced them to reacquaint with each other's body in a less intimate manner than intended… and yet it felt intimate in its own way too.

"Is that all of them?" Sokka asked her, after removing the final one that had latched to her upper thigh. "None got your ass, did they?"

"You'd rather they had?" Azula asked, amused.

"I didn't say that, but… I wouldn't have minded too much, is all," Sokka smirked a little, more shameless than he had allowed himself to be for a long time.

"How about you?" Azula asked, biting her lip as she gazed upon his body, trying to focus on the task at hand, on the many strings of concentric red dots over his skin now, especially in his lower body's area. "Anything I missed?"

"I think not?" Sokka said, glancing about himself with uncertainty. "Though now we look like we've got pentapox, heh. Did I ever tell you about that? How we got all the people out of Omashu…?"

"You… didn't tell me, no," Azula said, staring at him keenly through narrow eyes. Sokka chuckled and shrugged.

"I got the idea of using a fake disease to pretend there was an outbreak in the city," he said. "It happened after the pentapi got me in the sewers, the Fire Nation soldiers thought who caught us in the city thought I was sick, Katara told them I had pentapox, and they panicked… and then, when we met up with Bumi's resistance, they had no idea how to get out of the city and I suggested they used pentapox as an excuse: the soldiers panicked about the outbreak and let everyone go, and they were free from Fire Nation tyranny for it."

"You… are either an idiot or a genius," Azula said, smiling and shaking her head. Sokka huffed, raising his head haughtily.

"Wrong, Princess, for if other people's perception of me is to be accounted for, I'm actually both things at the same time," he declared, prompting her to laugh, despite herself.

"I gave Ukano such a hard time for that foolishness," Azula acknowledged. "Now I can see I was right to do so: pentapox, seriously?"

"Hey, fooled your people, even if it didn't fool you," Sokka smiled. "For an idiot, I'm not really that stupid, am I?"

"No, I guess you're not," Azula admitted.

Her smile was far more affectionate than she intended for it to be, and yet she didn't contain it. She didn't restrain herself. The very chance to swap stories with him, to talk at leisure, to smile and laugh… how she had missed that.

Oh, she had missed him, terribly so. It wasn't something she could deny to herself any longer.

"Don't feel bad, though, Princess," Sokka smiled. "The suction dots fade away after a while. Kind of like a hickey does."

"Heh. Those didn't fade away all that quickly, as far as I recall," Azula said, raising her eyebrows. Sokka chuckled and shrugged.

"Guess not all of them would, no," he admitted. "But you know, these are way smaller, and most are on our lower bodies, so it's not like there's going to be much to worry about. Unless, I don't know, you had a gig modeling naked for some sculptor within the next, what, ten-to-twelve hours…?"

"If I did have one, and you'd pulled this on me, I'd make you pay for this humiliation for as long as we lived," Azula assured him. Sokka grinned too honestly, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"Fine, then. No trips to weird lakes with Azula right before she has an appointment with the royal sculptor," he decided.

It was so natural, so easy… she almost felt like sitting at the edge of the lake with him, and merely talking for as many hours as they'd had failed to talk throughout their journey so far. Though she also felt like doing something else, as she allowed her eyes to gaze at his still-glistening skin… at the body she had grown so accustomed to once, and that she had deprived herself from, by her own foolish mistakes. Suddenly, all the bad blood seemed to be irrelevant, and she wanted nothing but to touch him, and not merely just to rid him of another pentapus anymore…

"Here I thought I wasn't allowed to peek… yet you're checking me out, Princess?"

She froze, shooting a glare at him as he smirked in her direction. Azula rolled her eyes at his reaction, though she smiled before long.

"Fine. What's fair is fair. You're free to ogle me if you so wish."

"Ah, thanks for allowing it. I mean, I already had looked at everything I wanted to look at, but knowing you allow it does lighten my heart's load…"

"You're the worst," Azula smiled, glancing at him again as Sokka chuckled. "Here I thought you weren't stealing any glances at me, that all this pentapus business was very professional…"

"It was, Princess, of course it was. If I'd broken protocol, you'd be moaning your lungs out by now," he said, nonchalantly. Azula gasped, and he smirked proudly.

"And what makes you think I would've allowed you to get away with that?" she asked.

"That you were checking me out just now, of course," he determined.

"Heh. And what convinces you that it'd be me moaning instead of you?" Azula huffed. Sokka raised his eyebrows and smiled at her, biting his lip playfully.

"Then… you want to make me moan as badly as I want to make you moan?" he asked. Her cheeks flushed violently. "Are we going to play it fair that way, too? A glance for a glance, a touch for a touch, a kiss for a kiss…?"

"Who said anything about kisses?" Azula whispered, though her eyes didn't leave Sokka's: she offered him a challenge, and the Sokka she had always known had been unable to resist one… she only hoped he'd be just as unwilling to hold back this time as he ever had been in the past.

"I just did, didn't you hear me?" He smiled as he leaned closer to her: Azula's heart raced gaster still. "Because something tells me you wouldn't mind it if I kissed your pentapox marks better…"

"There's no such thing as pentapox," Azula retorted. Sokka smirked.

"Funny thing to focus on, when I just said I wanted to kiss your legs all over," he said. Azula shivered visibly, breaking their eye contact by drawing her eyes down, almost bashfully.

It was not too surprising that she'd be that flustered, though it disappointed Sokka to a fault, all the same. Back in the day, she would have merely responded with her own crude remarks until they wound up in bed, thrusting wildly at each other. Now, though… she hesitated. Just as she had run away that night. It was no surprise, not really…

"Just the legs?"

Her question threw him off, just as he had been about to make up his mind to stand up and return to their campsite, once he told her not to make much of their flirty teasing. He blinked blankly, as Azula raised her face again, with fierce determination.

"You just said… what, now?" he blurted out.

"Didn't you hear me?" Azula said, despite her voice trembled. "Is it just the legs you'd kiss… snow savage?"

A title that had started as a mere jest at his expenses had eventually gained another meaning, after their third opportunity to sleep together: she had determined the true reason Water Tribe people were thought to be savages wasn't that their civilization was underdeveloped… but rather, that their erotic inclinations were so wild and unrestrained they stood out from the rest. She couldn't speak for a whole culture, of course not… but she could certainly speak for Sokka's skills. And after making such surprisingly flattering claims, Sokka had pinned her to the bed and proven himself a savage more proudly than ever before – and Azula had some trouble walking the next day because of it.

She had called him a snow savage before in their journey: had it been to evoke that night, or had it been, again, just a jest? All possibilities were on the table when it came to Azula. Yet right now he couldn't possibly doubt what she was suggesting… he couldn't second-guess it. He knew he wasn't getting a better deal than this one, and he had been too selfless as it was: he couldn't resist her, let alone her striking, gorgeous body, for another moment.

Sokka's hand shot to the back of her head, and when he pulled her closer to press his lips to hers, he found her own hands had clasped his neck: so violently they joined that their teeth crashed, and yet they didn't stop because of it. They had wasted too much time, worried about too much nonsense… it was enough by now. There was but one solution for their predicament, and the best prelude for it was heated, savage sex of the sort they had enjoyed before their relationship had fallen to shambles.

His arms surrounded her waist, compelling her to wrap her legs around his body: he rose to his feet, fearing he'd lose balance, but he remained determined to kiss her deeper and longer. Azula's heart raced ferociously, her fingers tight around his smooth hair locks as every familiar, blissful sensation he elicited in her body tore through her very soul. He wasn't kissing her halfheartedly, as he might have if he no longer cared… as he might have, if he no longer loved her. Then… he had distanced himself from her because he had believed, again, that that was what she had wanted? He hadn't chased after her… because he had taken her behavior as rejection, rather than an invitation to try harder? He had given her space, assuming she needed it, taking for granted that she didn't love him back…

He was kissing her wildly, walking naked through a forest with her, despite he probably thought she didn't love him back.

And now her heart ached, even if she didn't know why. She couldn't understand it, try as though she might. He interrupted their kiss briefly, only to ensure he was on the right track towards the tent he had pitched, and he stole a few more kisses from her lips before reaching their destination: tugging the flap aside, he knelt before the entrance, setting Azula down atop the sleeping bag. He kicked the tent's flap closed clumsily, and quickly returned to worshipping her body, his full weight crushing her delightfully.

He certainly hadn't expected her to return his passion as she did: even now her legs seemed unwilling to let go of him, and her long nails dug into his skin, proving she had wanted this desperately. He had found it odd that she would tag along for a trip with him, eventually he took for granted that she only wanted to torment him, and relish in a rare chance to leave the Fire Nation Palace, seeing as Zuko scarcely ever let her set foot outside it, let alone outside her nation… but if she had merely wanted to escape, using him as a stepping stone for it, she wouldn't have stayed with him once they reached the Earth Kingdom. He had half-expected to wake up and discover his traveling companion was gone, on the previous night, which they'd spent in a modest inn at Garsai… but she was still there. Then, he had expected her to take off through the forest, leaving him to his own devices… and again, she didn't do that. She seemed to genuinely want to come with him… though why, he didn't know for sure, not until now. He had pondered that she might have wanted to make amends for breaking his heart, but he hadn't thought she'd wish to rekindle their affair at all…

Now, as she thrusted upwards at him, one of her hands dashing between their bodies to pump his manhood, he realized the most wishful of all possibilities was, despite his rational mind had constantly claimed otherwise, the true explanation for Azula's actions.

He didn't hold back, not in the least: he drilled into her fiercely once they joined their bodies, thrusting with as much strength as he could muster while still kissing her as often as he could. She was breathless, her body strained, her heart still racing… and yet she wanted more, as she proved by rolling them over on the sleeping bag once he was finished, straddling him as she strived to make him hers for the thousandth time. More savage thrusting, and this time her head nearly crashed with the tent's ceiling as she sat up, riding his shaft recklessly: the tent truly could have fallen down upon her, she wouldn't have cared one bit. Then it was him who took over yet again, and they spent hours taking turns to lead their savage coupling, decorating each other's bodies with as many hickeys and bite marks as they could lavish each other with… and it would make quite the spectacle come morning, once they saw in full daylight the full score of reddened marks their bodies would sport, paired with the many dots the pentapi had left upon them.

The final round found them lying together on their sides, face to face, thrusting slowly into each other while they shared countless kisses after their last climaxes. Sokka closed his eyes, overwhelmed by pleasure: they hadn't eaten dinner yet, and his body appeared to resent him for it, seeing as they'd exercised rather extensively just now. They had also left their clothes behind by the lake, and he certainly hoped they'd still be there by morning… but he didn't dare let go of Azula to deal with any such matters, not just yet. Not while her body was wound so tightly around his own, not when it might be one of the last times it ever was… for he had no foolish hopes that this rekindling would last longer than this trip to find Space Sword. Not when Azula had already ran away from him before… when she might just do it again if he ever overwhelmed her ever again…

"You're… not going to say anything?" her voice broke through the darkness and silence, and Sokka damn near wished she hadn't spoken at all. Silence, uncertainty, were better than the mistakes he was likely to make while attempting to read her once again.

"Didn't think you'd want me to," he whispered, simply. He had thought that would be enough for Azula to understand how scared he was, how unwilling to let go of her… but naturally, the proud princess couldn't make anything easy for him.

"Since when do you do whatever I want you to?" she said. He huffed: he should know better than to fall for her verbal traps and tricks… and yet he plunged headfirst into this one, hating himself for it as he uttered his response.

"Since always," he said, bluntly. Azula frowned, but fell silent again. "Since the first night we spent together. For every minute and every moment of my life since then."

"That's… not true," Azula said, though her voice trembled lightly. "How… how could you even know what I wanted without asking me, anyway? If you didn't know…"

"I fucked you when you wanted me to. I walked away when you wanted me to," Sokka said, simply. "And I shut up now, because I know that if I dare say what I'm really thinking, you'll take off again and I don't think my stupid heart will be able to take that anymore."

Azula tensed up next to him. He didn't attempt to soften his words, which he had spoken far more bitterly than he had intended to… but it was true enough that he had seen more than his share of heartbreak throughout his life. There was only so much he could take before he came crashing down for good, unwilling to love ever again… frankly, he had thought he was there already, after she had ran off on him that night. He had been so anguished for the next months, doing his best to stay out of her way, to never inconvenience her… and in the process, he had nearly self-destructed. He was dead sure the reason no one wanted to take a road trip with him wasn't because everyone was too busy… but rather, because none of his friends thought it was a good idea to spend long stretches of time with the moodiest, least fun Sokka they had ever known. To this day, none of them understood why he had changed so much, so suddenly… and to this day, he refused to explain, too. How to explain he had finally found the right person to spend his life with, only to discover he didn't embody the same thing for her…?

"S-Sokka…" she called for him suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts. Sokka breathed deeply and rubbed his face with a hand, as though trying to shake off the emotional words that had tumbled out of him. What a fool… he wasn't supposed to tell her any of that. He wasn't supposed to guilt her into a damn thing, what was wrong with him?

"Don't mind me, Azula, don't… don't worry. I'm okay," he said, simply.

She seemed rather determined to prove him wrong, however: her hand reached for his chest, touching his heart, feeling its powerful, yet fragile beats. He gritted his teeth, trying to find something to say, anything to defuse the charged situation, far more tense now than in the rest of their awkward days on the road, combined…

"You said you loved me," she whispered. His breath caught. "You said so… and I left. But it wasn't because I… b-because I didn't want to see you anymore."

"What?" Sokka said, and the confusion did nothing to help his current discomfort.

"Sokka, I… I'm sorry. I know you believe you loved me, and because you did, I ruined everything, but the truth is…"

"Woah, what's that supposed to mean, 'I believe I loved you'?" Sokka snapped, eyeing her dark silhouette with a scowl. "There's no 'believe' about it, Azula. I loved you: I still do."

"You… no, Sokka, no," Azula said, shaking her head promptly. Yet her tone, the nervousness with which she spoke… it gave him pause, where he'd had none before. While he certainly didn't appreciate being told by anyone that his feelings couldn't be what he knew they were, he also knew Azula well enough by now to understand there was more going on underneath the surface than she wanted to admit right now.

"No what?" he said, softening his voice. "What are you trying to tell me, Azula?"

"You can't love me. And if you truly did, t-then… you shouldn't," she said, shivering against him. "I can't be… I can't be loved, not like other people can. I can't love, either, so maybe just…"

"What the hell? What's that supposed to mean?" Sokka asked, and Azula shook her head.

"That's what they said. In that damn asylum," she swallowed hard. "They diagnosed me, and tested me, and decided I was… incapable of I don't know how many emotions. They said I couldn't feel them, that I only pretended to, that I… that I copied what I saw in others, but was incapable of truly feeling those emotions myself."

"What sort of…? That's bullshit!" Sokka exclaimed, frowning. Azula shrank in her spot beside him, pressing her head to his chest. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?! You're capable of emotions alright, of so many of them, for crying out loud… who the hell paid those pieces of shit to say that about you? I'll go gut them as soon as we find Space Sword…"

"My mother thought I was a monster," Azula spoke against his chest. Sokka's wild rant stopped cold suddenly. "Why would she love Zuko but not me? Why would she say something was wrong with me if nothing had been wrong at all? Even now, she looks at me funny, no matter if Zuko's taken me back. Like she thinks any moment I'm just going to snap, and set the whole damn Palace on fire. Somedays… somedays I actually do want to do that, Sokka. Whenever I'm too frustrated, I just…"

"Then you can be frustrated? Isn't that an emotion?" Sokka huffed. "Azula… I can't say I know anything for sure, but it sounds like those damn assholes at that institution weren't trying to help you at all. If anything… they tried to convince you that you weren't human. They made you think emotions were worthless, and well, your damn family doesn't help one bit either…"

"But emotions are… they're not good, Sokka," Azula said, shaking her head.

"Says who? Ozai's far from a reliable source of information, you know…"

"It's not just him. It's… I've let myself be swayed by stupid impulses so many times now," Azula said, gritting her teeth. "I mean… if that's what emotions are, they just… they make you do things you shouldn't. They make you lose sight of your rational mind, and then…"

"The more you fight them, the worse it gets," Sokka finished for her. Azula flinched beside him. "Which… sounds like you understand and know emotions pretty well, for someone who allegedly can't feel them."

Azula breathed with difficulty against him, and to her surprise, his arms wrapped warmly around her, pulling her as close as she could be to him. He pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"What did you feel… when you heard I was visiting again, the first time I visited the Fire Nation after all those months without seeing you?" he asked. Azula tensed around him. "Nothing wrong will come from telling me, Azula. I'm not going to hurt you. I just… need to know. And I think you need to say it even more than I need to hear it."

She swallowed hard before making up her mind. There was no trace of joking in his voice… no hint of mockery, of forcefulness, of bullheaded stubbornness. He wasn't trying to make her accept his feelings… he was trying to help her understand her own. Tears surged in her eyes, and with her face pressed to his bare chest as it was, she knew he would feel them directly on his skin.

"I… wanted to see you," she whispered. "I hoped you'd want to see me too. But when we crossed paths, you simply… walked past me. You barely even glanced at me. I… I thought I disgusted you. And it… it hurt. It did."

"I thought I was the one who disgusted you," Sokka said with a trembling voice, tightening his embrace further. "When you ran off, and avoided seeing me, I… I was sure it meant you'd never wanted things to go as far as they did. So I… decided to leave you be. Because I figured you didn't love me back. I thought… you'd be better off without me."

"I wasn't. I'm not," Azula admitted with far more honesty than she ever thought she'd muster, shaking her head against his chest.

"I'm sorry," Sokka whispered, and she gasped. "I should've… guessed I couldn't understand what was going through your head. Doesn't matter how smart I think I am, you're always much more complicated than I can figure out…"

"You… you're not the one who should apologize," Azula said, shaking her head again, and by now the tears did stream down her face. "I'm the one who… who left, and I hurt you, because I didn't know how to tell you that… t-that you shouldn't have loved someone like me…"

"I'm afraid that's never going to stop me," Sokka smiled sadly, raising a hand to her cheek, wiping the tears away as best he could with his thumb. "Love isn't that easily given and taken away."

"But I…" she gasped, shaking her head. "You can't… y-you shouldn't love me, Sokka. No one has ever…"

"I don't know if no one has ever loved you, Azula," Sokka whispered, raising her chin delicately: despite how dark it was, she could see his shape looming closer, so close he found her lips with his own, but far more softly than earlier. Her breath hitched as he pulled away, and she remained desperate, eager for more. "But if no one did before, I'm proud to be the first person who ever did. Whatever mistakes you made… we'll fix them, if they can be fixed. We'll move past them, if they can't be. And you know what's the best part? You don't have to love me back. I didn't tell you how I felt because… because I thought you'd respond with the same thing. I said it because… because I couldn't hold back anymore. Because you made me so happy, you still do, and… I needed you to know that. If you never feel the same way towards me, I'll accept it… but that won't change my feelings for you. It won't erase my truth. And that's still my truth, to this day: I love you, Azula. And as far as I can tell, I always will."

She couldn't hold back anymore: a torrent of tears streamed down her cheeks as she embraced him tightly, just as tight, if not even more so, as she had earlier that day. He held her the same way, pressing gentle kisses around her face, on the top of her head, on her temples… and she only cried further, overwhelmed, overcome by the onslaught of emotions she was supposedly unable to experience.

Had she truly been incapable of those emotions at all… or had she merely locked them away, in all the trauma of her childhood and teenage years, until they finally had broken free upon hearing Sokka's words tonight? Had his sincere, selfless feelings given wing to hers…? Or was she truly just emulating feelings she had seen someplace else…?

Ha. She was sure she had never seen anyone crying this pathetically over a love confession, so copying such an emotional outburst was ruled out.

Which meant… they were wrong. The diagnosis had been wrong. Maybe she was capable of much more than those damn mental experts had decided she was…

Those thoughts calmed her, despite they were anything but tranquilizing, as they would mean she had been living her life halfway for years now, abiding by that damn assessment as though it owned her, attempting to trick herself into believing her inability to feel emotions was a good thing somehow… but there was a lot she needed to do right now instead of crying, in the wake of such a revelation.

"H-how… how do you know you love me?" Azula asked, her voice fragile and unsteady. Her question took Sokka by surprise. "How does anyone know… that they're feeling love for someone else? I… I'm not trying to copy it, I just want to know if…"

"I didn't think you'd be copying anything in the first place," Sokka whispered, rubbing her back gently. "But if you're worried… how about you tell me how you feel, and I'll tell you if that sounds like love or not?"

"Then…" she said, breathing deeply. "I was… happy to see you, but then you didn't seem to want anything to do with me. M-my chest felt hollow, somehow… and when I talked to defend you when Zuko was being an ass about your quest for your sword, I thought you might be grateful, but you looked unaffected, as though it didn't matter… it hurt, too. I felt like an idiot, because I… I thought maybe you were happier whenever I wasn't around. That I'd messed up so badly that now you were better off without me, but I was so hung up on you, I couldn't stop thinking about you, and I wanted to fix things between us… because I wanted you to smile the way you always did before. It hurt that you wouldn't, but I hoped… and then the damn pentapus thing stuck to me and you were back to your old self for a moment, and we were laughing, and helping each other, and my damn stupid hollow chest felt full again…"

Sokka's hands didn't stop rubbing against her back gently. Azula gritted her teeth, clinging to him, to her every word, as she spoke with far more honesty than she remembered doing in her whole life. It seemed she had learned that from him, somehow…

"I never wanted to lose you," she said. "I never wanted to push you so far away you'd never want to come back. I thought… I thought you'd come back and fight to stay by my side because… isn't that how love works? I never thought… I never thought you were walking away because you loved me. B-because you thought that was what I wanted… I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't… I didn't want to push you away, Sokka…"

"I get it," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I understand now. I… I'm relieved, you know? I thought I'd spend the rest of my life alone…"

"You…?" Azula said, puzzled. Sokka chuckled.

"No one knew I was with you… so my damn sister kept trying to set me up with people. I always said no, she'd always find a way to throw them at me, I'd always make myself scarce as soon as I knew there was yet another girl waiting to meet the great hero Sokka…"

"Pfft… great hero?" Azula smiled, amused.

"See? I don't want or need a girl who worships me" Sokka chuckled, kissing her brow. "I'd rather have one who thinks all that stuff is nonsense… because she sees right through me, and knows deep down I'm just a dork who wants to spend time with his friends, talk nonsense, joke around, pull pranks on people…"

"We need to do it again… pulling pranks on everyone," Azula smiled, pressing her own lips to his chest. "I miss that."

"Well… I don't know what this really means for us, going forward," Sokka whispered. "Maybe you're not ready for anything too demanding anyway… but what you said you felt for me did sound quite a lot like love, you know?"

"It… did?" Azula said, the hopeful inflection of her voice brought a gentle grin to Sokka's face.

"That's right," he said, pressing his brow to hers. "So… going back to civilization, and telling everyone we're together now? Sounds like the culmination of the greatest prank of all time to me."

"Though it's not just a prank," Azula smiled, closing her eyes. "We are together. Or at least, we should be."

"If we both agree on that… then I guess it means we are," Sokka sighed.

She hadn't known what to make of his tone with the last words he spoke… until a soft laugh shook him, and then he was squeezing her so tight she lost her breath: tears fell upon her skin, just as her own had fallen on his. Azula gritted her teeth but hugged him back, burying her face in his shoulder as he sobbed quietly against her.

Just one silly development, one chaotic afternoon spent battling against strange but harmless invertebrates, had turned into a wild evening of relentless trysts until they had released their everything together… and then it had become an emotional night, where they had finally talked thoroughly, finally understanding each other's fears, weakness, insecurities and thought processes. It hadn't needed to come this far, they both knew it… and yet they were so grateful to recover what they'd lost that they didn't stop to reason with how much time they had wasted: instead, their lips met in a tearful kiss, and their bodies joined anew for one more time that night, but in a warmer, loving manner, slow and gradual, until they both reached their final culmination and fell asleep soundly in each other's arms. Just as there had been no violent solution to fend off the pentapi, there had been no such solution for their relationship either: a gentler approach, far more sincere, where they had opened their hearts, regardless of the painful risk it represented, was the only true way to resolve their conflict.

The long-standing tension between them was gone, completely, by the next morning: they couldn't seem to stop smiling together, not when they made love again by dawn, not when they ate a hefty breakfast to make up for the dinner they had missed, not when they rushed back to the lake to find the clothes that they had left lying about by the shore. Once they packed the tent and took off, following Sokka's map, they did as much with hands linked, casting countless teasing comments at each other with every new step they took together.

After a week and a half of long, heartfelt nights and blissful, bright days, their journey appeared to be one that should have lasted a lifetime instead… and yet Azula's luck dictated otherwise.

She spotted it amidst bushes while she foraged for food, as their reserves were near depleted by then: it didn't glow as brightly as it had long ago, but that golden pommel still caught her eye. She pushed the plants out of the way, slowing by the weapon to find it sunken to the hilt in the soil. She breathed deeply and wrapped her hand around the handle's leather, and without much struggle, the weapon came loose… and that black blade nearly glistened under the sunlight once she had withdrawn it completely.

It was over, then. Their long trip, their chance to reconnect and make amends… Azula gritted her teeth as she gazed at the weapon, almost begrudging it for not having taken a little longer to show up, despite she had practically found it by sheer chance as it was. She briefly pondered stashing it away someplace safe, to make sure she and Sokka would continue to travel together for a little longer… but his words, his many decisions and sacrifices for her sake, convinced her otherwise. He had taught her what love looked like: selfishness wasn't part of it. He had come here to find his sword, and she had no right to deprive him from it for a moment longer.

"Sokka?" she called for him, and he raised his head from the small venison he'd been able to catch earlier, thanks to his boomerang.

"What is it?" he asked. "Found anything that looks too bright and funny? It's probably poisonous, if that's it…"

"Well, that sure explains why it was that dangerous all along, huh?" Azula smiled, returning to the clearing they were resting at that morning. She raised her right hand, showing the weapon she held to Sokka, who froze in place immediately. "Didn't think you'd play so underhandedly back in those days, coating your weapon in poison, but…"

"AZULA! YOU FOUND IT?!"

Azula laughed as she offered the sword at her lover, who clumsily jumped to his feet and rushed towards her. He took Space Sword in his hands, smiling brightly enough to cry yet again… and then he dropped the weapon, to her utter astonishment, and embraced her so tightly he raised her from the ground.

"S-Sokka!" she gasped, embracing him right back in fear of falling… especially in fear of falling on his insanely sharp sword.

"You're the greatest, smartest, cleverest, most amazing woman in the entire planet!" he squealed. Despite her previous apprehension, Azula couldn't hold back a trickle of laughter as she pressed her face to his neck. "Oh, hell…! I was starting to think we'd never find it! Which, to be fair, I didn't mind too much? I was having so much fun being on the road with you as it was, that I…!"

"You forgot you were looking for a sword?" Azula smiled, as he set her down at last. "I think I could tell. Seeing as you kept making plans about what we'd eat for our next meal, or what position we'd try for the next night…"

Sokka snorted and laughed, pressing his brow to hers. Azula grinned, breathing out slowly: that was the face she had relished in. That expression of pure, undoubtable bliss… the genuine smiles she had never been deemed worthy of until Sokka had decided otherwise. Her heart ached pleasantly at the sight of it, at the gentle bliss that permeated them both right now.

"Thank you, Azula… thank you so much," he said, pressing many quick, enthusiastic kisses to her lips. Azula's smile only widened further. "Goodness, I owe you so much more than you can imagine…"

"No, you don't…" Azula whispered, caressing his chest. "Whatever debts we owed each other… I think they're settled after this trip. I'd hurt you… now I've made up for it, somehow, I hope…"

"You've more than made up for every bit of pain, Azula… you didn't even have to, but you have," Sokka smiled, caressing her face kindly.

"I did have to…" she said, as another of those impulses she couldn't repress bubbled to the surface: "Because I love you, too."

He had never expected her to return his feelings… let alone for her to say it aloud, if she did. He was sure he'd spend his life with her, regardless of whether she ever said those three words to him at all… and yet now that she had, it was as though his entire world had expanded, exploded, becoming greater, larger and better in a single moment. Tears surged in his eyes, as did in hers… and the next thing she knew, they were back in the tent, reprising every blissful night and morning they had spent making love relentlessly together. After so long of fearing she'd always be alone, fearing she had alienated the only person who genuinely had cared for her, now she knew she'd live every day ahead with the bright awareness that she would have him by her side…

No one had truly expected Sokka to return with his sword. Zuko, personally, hadn't expected him to return with Azula, to begin with, having even set up a whole squad to track down his sister once she inevitably escaped…

Yet what no one could have ever anticipated was for Sokka and Azula to not only have found Space Sword, but to have found their way to each other just as well: Zuko spent months convinced their engagement announcement was but another of their joint pranks… even up until the very wedding ceremony. Teasing him further, after first kissing her new husband, Azula had promised Zuko that their first child would be called 'Prank', in his honor… and only then did the reality of the situation hit him, despite he was still quite far from being able to process it fully. Katara, of course, wasn't in much better shape… and yet, to everyone's surprise, she eased up on them faster if only because of Sokka's genuine happiness. Seeing him back in good spirits, even if they mostly were related to the woman he couldn't seem to stop holding in his arms ever since they returned from their long journey, was enough of a relief that she managed to overlook, at least most times, that her new sister-in-law was none other than who she was…

And as fun as their reactions were, nothing pleased either the princess or her new consort as much as their relationship itself did. Opening their hearts to each other fully, thoroughly understanding what their feelings were, had changed their worlds for the better. It had started as a quest for a sword… and instead it had shaped into the reforging of a love and the beginning a blissful journey that would span for a lifetime.

#sokkla #sokklasaturday #sokkla saturdays #sokka #azula #if you people ever thought #I'd already exercised all my ability to give them angst in a forest #... well you were wrong #this story has actually been on the back burner since like... my earliest fandom days #I always got to writing other things instead and eventually this dropped off the list of priorities #welp #it got right back to it once I saw that prompt #and now here we are #something like 7 years later but #it is done #my first rendition of finding a certain Space Sword #(sorta smutty though I'm still tryin' to save up the best for Yakuza AU)

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toloveawarlord · 4 years

Text

Ch. 2

Characters: Elaine, Arthur x Theo, Vincent

Pairing: Elaine x Isaac (eventually)

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @lady-moonbroch

A/N: This chapter turned out nothing like the first draft XD Enjoy some Elaine spending time with her Uncle and she meets a boy!

Four days into her new job as Theo’s assistant, the mood in their home had drastically lifted. Elaine never complained and paid close attention to every task given to her, exceeding all expectations. She quoted things he’d said to her years ago and questioned smartly, craving the knowledge he had. Having her along had proved quite useful with prickly clients, smoothing over situations with a charming smile and sweet words, likely emulating Arthur.

Theo enjoyed having time with her. In recent years, they’d grown strained. The teenager wanted more freedom and broke rules in place to protect her because she believed them unnecessary. Now, at nearly eighteen in only two days, she’d fought harder. Being able to keep an eye on her put the art dealer at little more at ease.

His daughter sat across from him, glancing at him out of the corner of her vision. Elaine hadn’t taken the news that she couldn’t accompany him today well. Instead of anger, she’d pouted silently all morning.

“I take it that you aren’t happy with today’s agenda,” Arthur piped up with an amused grin not quite hidden by his cup of steaming coffee. The previous night Theo had informed him of the impending unhappy teenager.

Elaine stuffed the fork full of pancakes into her mouth, enough to make her cheeks puff out to match her frown. She’d gotten up extra early and made pancakes and extra sweet coffee, but the answer remained unchanged. Now, she wanted to drown her sorrows in syrup and butter until she got sick.

“Vincent has asked for you to help him today while I’m gone.” Theo could easily see the motive behind his brother’s sudden request. He’d promised to make her do some work instead of spoiling her the entire day.

The teenager flinched at those words. She couldn’t very well turn down her uncle, as she adored him so much. Help isn’t the word she’d choose to describe what the day would entail. He’d likely ask her to do a small task or two, nothing that required much effort. “Fine. I guess I can do that.”

Working didn’t bother her. She assisted around the house with the chores without complaint. If Comte asked, she would readily agree. It irritated her that this client wouldn’t allow her entrance to his home, prompting this sour mood. No promises of being quiet or staying outside had swayed Theo. He couldn’t risk spooking the man.

“If you find yourself in need of something to do, I can have you proofread for me.” Her grimace only made the mystery writer chuckle again. Her disdain for that job well-known. Though she enjoyed his stories, playing editor didn’t appeal to her. A tedious thing.

Theo cracked a grin, rising from the table. “You better thank Vincent for saving you from that.” One check of his watch ended the conversation. He bid his family farewell before heading into town alone.

“Are you sure you don’t want to help your Papa with his work?” Arthur teased further. He had been a tad jealous that she eagerly wanted to assist Theo over the course of the week. Ah, but he was also grateful that the two were more understanding of each other.

Elaine stacked all the empty plates to carry them to the kitchen. “I love you but no.” Her curt reply still amusing. Setting the dishes in the sink, she licked the sticky syrup off her fingers.

“Off you go then. I’ll take care of the cleanup.”

The young vampire didn’t need to be told twice. Housework didn’t appeal to her either. She did her part, pitching in when needed, but if told she didn’t have to do it... the teenager bailed as quickly as she could.

Inside the mansion, the hallways were quiet and empty. At this hour, everyone should be awake, except for Leonardo perhaps. Rapping her fist against Vincent’s door, she cast confused glances down the hallway.

“Goede morgen, Elaine,” Vincent greeted with a bright smile. He laughed softly at her confusion. Since Arthur and Theo had moved out of the mansion with her when she was only 4 years old, daily happenings didn’t reach their house as quickly as it spread through the mansion. “We’re the only ones here today.”

“I’m okay with that.” She flashed a disheartened smile, unable to shake the dark cloud hanging over her. Her normally mischievous and lively attitude disappeared. The others might have tried to make her understand. She understood perfectly fine.

That didn’t make it less saddening.

“Come here.” He’d barely open his arms and invited his niece to find comfort with him when the teenager stepped forward and accepted the warm hug. Vincent stroked his fingers through her copper hair. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but she reminded him so much of Theo when he was a child. “You know, he couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful you were on the job.”

“Really?”

It wasn’t that he hadn’t said so to her. Theo would give praise often, especially when she came up with new ideas. Telling the others about it, that was rarer.

Vincent hummed in response, a gentle smile on his lips as she peeked up at him. “I’d say he was outright bragging. I’m not surprised. You’re his daughter after all.” Placing a kiss on the top of her head, he laughed softly at her uplifted mood.

Elaine lingered a little longer before releasing him, soaking up his sunshine-like warmth. “I guess I could stop pouting about it.” Relenting her sad feelings, she sighed softly before questioning. “So, what was it you wanted my help with?”

“I finished the final painting and I thought I’d ask for your expert advice on where to put it in the gallery space. That is, if you want to.” His request was well-received with a glowing smile from his niece. Theo had mentioned that he’d given her the sole responsibility of choosing how to use the space to best showcase the art. The uncle looked forward to seeing what she’d done.

***********

The paintings on the wall were shrouded in black cloth, to hide the precious items from view until the day of the showing. Only a select few knew what was beneath, ones trusted by Theo to make this a success. Elaine had been gifted one of the only keys to venue, a testament to her importance.

“I believe I’m looking forward to this event more than any other,” Vincent commented, allowing the staff to hang the framed piece in its designated spot.

The heat in her cheeks caused the teenager to turn her gaze anywhere else. “It’s not much different from how Vader does it. I’ve been to more of these than any other event in the city.” The location changed but ever since she learned to walk, she’d been toddling around, observing, and learning how it works. Before she’d even realized, she’d begun understanding color theory and composition.

“It wasn’t too long ago that you were only a few years old and correcting patrons on the medium or style of the art. You always had this incredibly serious expression, much like Theo.”

“That was so long ago! I’m almost eighteen!”

Vincent chuckled with a loving smile. “Yes, I guess that’s right.”

The chime of the door timed perfectly with one of the staff calling to speak with Vincent. Elaine stepped away to investigate the newcomer. Violet eyes narrowed at the sight of a boy, likely no older than herself, attempting to take a peek at the portrait veiled by the black cloth. “Excuse me, but you can’t be in here.” Her tone less than polite, Elaine thrust her palms against his chest to push him away from the art piece.

“Oh, my apologies. I’ve been most curious about why there are staff entering but it’s never been open for business.” His emerald eyes filled with hidden intent that didn’t quite match the half smirk on his lips. The boy never resisted her pushing him back to the door and onto the street. “A secretive operation, I presume, miss?”

“Elaine and we don’t open for another two days.”

Her biggest fear was that he was a spy for le academia and all of her father’s hard work would go to waste if they were discovered. He didn’t fit the typical appearance of a high bred family, usually scrawny and uptight, and he wasn’t either of those things.

“I’ll have to pop in when you are open. My name is Leon Autry.” He flashed another brilliantly smug smile and winked. “Might I inquire your surname, should I have any future questions?” The reason lost on the recipient. He’d yet to ask anything relevant to the gallery.

Elaine turned on her heel to return inside. “It’s Doyle.” Even though she didn’t quite like the boy, she couldn’t risk turning away a potential buyer. Her cheeks were warm, and it wasn’t clear if it was from embarrassment or anger. The young pureblood didn’t have many friends her age, and that led to a bit of awkwardness when around humans her age.

“Ah, like the writer.”

The girl stilled, hand hovering above the door handle. Perhaps she’d heard him incorrectly.

“You might not know of him. He’s a British writer, mystery, I think.”

Or perhaps not.

“I believe it’s Arthur Conan Doyle. Any relation?” Leon asked as if he already knew the answer, like playing a game of truth or dare in order reveal a secret for confirmation.

Elaine relaxed her shoulders. Although she could hardly admit that she was indeed was the daughter of that very Arthur, albeit the vampire one, she wouldn’t allow him to glean that precious information from her. “No, but you aren’t the first to ask. But wouldn’t that be grand? Imagine being related to someone as talented as that.” Her dreamy smile fowled his for a moment.

“Imagine.” The façade of his grin had ghosted away for a split second, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Elaine, are you ready to head back?” A third party interrupted, much welcomed by the girl. Vincent approached the two, protectively a half step in front of his niece. The tension between the two children enough to worry him.

Her head bobbed once in response. “Yes, let’s go home.” The way Leon’s eyes followed her unsettled the girl. Elaine settled back on the seat in the carriage, mulling over the strange interaction. Was it so unusual for someone to draw a connection between her name and the human Arthur from this era?

Whatever the case, she now had a proper mystery on her hands.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp theo #ikevamp vincent #ikemen vampire fanfiction #arthur and theo have a child #elaine odette doyle #truth in simplicity #isaac is coming soon i promise

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kuno-chan · 5 years

Text

Sides of the Moon - Ch.22, Persistance

Summary: Runaan and his team of assassins discovers that Rayla has defied him. Again. But when they find her, she’s bleeding out in the woods with precious cargo under her arm and face to face with the princes of Katolis running away from their own castle. They find that, upon this meeting, the die has already been cast.

Rating: T

Please consider reviewing on AO3

Callum could no longer leave without someone accompanying him. Someone who wasn’t just Rayla.

Runaan didn’t want Callum out of their sight. They didn’t have time for another near-death experience with the human prince, as it was so elegantly put. Callum felt a little bad about it; the trouble it caused, anyway, but it was worth it. Callisto seemed to be much better within the past day than he had since his injury.

He didn’t mind Andromeda and Callisto as company. Out of everyone, they were the easiest to get along with.

“Do we need any more than this?” he asked, looking in their bag. Herna had been kind enough to give them a little money to buy supplies.

“We don’t want to make our packs too heavy. We need to stay light on our feet. This is enough.” Callisto said.

“Besides, we can’t keep stealing,” Andromeda said. “It will bring too much attention to us. Especially when we need to leave quietly.”

Callum could agree with that. They passed the town square, a neat cobblestone plaza powdered with snow. They peered at a newly formed crowd, with the ruckus growing louder as Callum ventured closer. He knew he creeped too close when he felt Callisto’s firm grip on his shoulder.

“Look. Listen,” he said to Callum.

“... vile creatures from Xadia! They are here! They are here to invade your homes and take what is yours. And there’s a group of them. Right here. In this very town!” The spindly man’s face was good-natured in a way that Callum realized wasn’t his natural disposition. “ Who do you think killed the poor old man who lives in the mountain? We have to defend ourselves, our loved ones, our children! ”

Concern did not look good on Morgan when you knew what he was actually like. He’d dressed himself perfectly: a drab set of clothes that were neither too fancy nor too old. His hair was tousled just right. An everyday man. A concerned citizen of the town. His eyes were lit with kindness that Callum knew was fake even from here, but Callum had also seen Morgan in his real skin. Something closer to a monster than a human.

“We must hunt them down!” He raised his fist, his voice stirring with some emotion not becoming of him. “ We must make sure no one will ever again fall prey to these monsters in our town. Who’s with me?”

The crowd agreed.They bellowed their opinions and reached out to him, shaking his hand and giving him room to step down into the crowd. They helped him down.

They supported him.

A few good words, rousing the hearts of people who probably were less like Lady Eveline and more like people who would be angry on her behalf. People who did not know the pain Lady Eveline suffered from. Most people would never see an elf and, yet, they agreed to wipe them from existence. Or, at least from their little town.

He wondered if elves felt the same.

“We need to go,” he heard Andromeda hiss and felt Callisto pull him away from the crowd. Away from the square. Away from the anger that Morgan had so easily aroused in them. Callum still spied him from a distance. Morgan hadn’t seen them.

He walked like an average, concerned citizen. His hair was perfect. And if Callum had not seen the beast underneath, he might have believed him, too.

If only a little.

-:-:-:-

Andromeda gave them the news as soon as they got back, and everyone started packing in haste. Thankfully, there was not much. They gave their supplies priority over everything else, and they made quick work of getting their things together.

“Not a trace,” as Runaan ordered.

They would leave quickly and quietly, not saying anything to the innkeeper.

But it seemed like they didn’t have to.

Herna came into the room as Callisto, Skor and Ram were packing a small bag.

“Here,” she said urgently. “It’s not much, but it will last you from here to the east.”

They just stared at her. Callum would intervene if they pulled out any weapons, he decided, but they just watched her. She didn’t pay them any mind. “I don’t know exactly how far it is, but hopefully this will last you. If anybody comes asking about the lot of you, I will tell them you left and headed to the towns in the south. Make haste and you’ll have time before anyone is the wiser.”

Callisto and Ram exchanged looks.

Skor asked, “What are you doing?”

Herna didn’t pause in helping them pack the food. She didn’t speak for a moment. Skor continued to stare.

She took a deep breath. “It isn’t safe here for you anymore.”

Callisto frowned. “How did you know?”

“I’m a human, but I’m also old. I know when something doesn’t feel the same,” she said, smiling. “Your accents aren’t the easiest to hide, I presume.”

Quietly, Callisto took the bread she handed him and nodded. “Your kindness will always be appreciated.”

Herna smiled as they left the room, their packs on their backs. Runaan was at the door, watching, but said nothing. Skor stopped beside Herna and put a hand on her shoulder. “Be safe.”

Herna placed her hand over his. “And you. If we never meet again, I hope you find your peace. And your justice. Now, go.”

Skor squeezed her shoulder and left. Callum didn’t move right away, watching Herna for a moment.

“Callum.” He twisted to Runaan’s voice. “We’re leaving.”

Callum spared Herna a glance, then followed Runaan.

-:-:-:-

The streets were teeming with humans gossiping and searching for the elves invading their town right under their very noses. They weren’t as lethal as a trained group of assassins. Not on their own.

But Runaan wasn’t foolish enough to take the chance. He also wasn’t rash enough to think they could take on an entire town of humans, lethal or not.

He was more on edge about Anarr and Morgan than he liked. But Rayla had been too close to being on the other end of Anarr’s blade. Unnecessarily. It should not have happened.

Callum came to mind.

He was distinctly aware of the human prince trailing with Rayla near the back of their party.

It made him uneasy.

-:-:-:-

Callum tried not to look around too much. The first time he did, Rayla scolded him.

“We don’t know if Morgan and Anarr are watching us. We know Morgan was here, but we don’t know if he’s seen us,” she said. “Let’s not make it so obvious we’re trying to leave.”

… I can’t believe it was so easy.”

“For us?”

“No, for him. All he did was change his appearance, and attitude. He acted like he cared. And they believed him.”

“He’s done it before, probably,” she said, then paused. “What’s bothering you?”

Callum hunched his shoulders. “It’s just that... Lord Viren used to be someone I trusted. And everything’s different now.”

A frown tugged on her lips. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “I am, too.”

When her hand brushed against him, he returned the gesture.

Nobody noticed them leaving. With their packs full and new coats on, they trudged over a hill hardened with snow. Callum glanced back at it, but returned his attention toward their path. The rest of the team was farther up the slope than he and Rayla.

Rayla continued to watch the town.

He stopped for her. “You coming?” She didn’t answer him. “Rayla.”

“Wait,” she hushed him. “Do you hear that?”

He listened to whatever she was hearing. Nothing--

Wait.

The faintest high-pitched screams. He looked back at the town and saw a plume of smoke rising into the air. His heart dropped.

“Oh no,” she looked back at him.

“Do you think…?”

“It’s Morgan and Anarr. I know it’s them. It has to be them. Something’s wrong.”

Callum’s stomach clenched. “You don’t know that. Maybe something else happened. Rayla, you don’t need to--”

“Go ahead of me. I’ll catch up with you.”

“You can’t go by yourself. What if it is them? We just faced them yesterday, and they almost killed us. At least let me go with you.”

Rayla shook her head and unsheathed her swords. “We don’t have time and I can’t just leave while they’re wreaking havoc because of us. The egg is dying. Tell Runaan and the others I’ll catch up with you. I promise I’ll be careful. I just want to get their attention and then lose them. They’re looking for us, after all, now go--”

“Rayla.”

She didn’t stop to let him finish, turning back and running down the hill at a speed he knew he couldn’t match. Even so, he nearly went after her. After all, she would have done the same for him. She already had.

He would do that and more, but one thing he learned from their predicament yesterday was to stop doing things alone.

Callum ran up the hill, towards the group, his lungs burning by the time he reached them.

“Wait!” He panted, holding his chest. When they turned, Runaan was already searching for wherever Rayla had gone. He saw the plume of smoke. “It’s Morgan and Anarr. They’re attacking the town--”

Runaan sped past him, down the hill.

“I’m going with him.”

Callisto grabbed his shoulder. “No. This is between them. Our job is to get you two and the egg out of the human lands. We keep moving. They’ll catch up.”

Ezran shook his head. “We can’t just leave. They’re attacking the town. They’re hurting people...”

“And more people will get hurt if they see that Rayla went down to save a town of humans.” Callisto squeezed Callum’s shoulder. “They’ll be alright. Runaan will bring her back.”

Callum looked at the town again. His chest constricted as he turned back to their trail.

Ezran frowned, but did the same when Andromeda held out a hand to him. Bait turned green with nervousness. Callum agreed.

-:-:-:-

Rayla raced into town.

Screaming. Running. Scrambling.

People threatened to knock her over as she waded into the fray. She heard the beasts before she saw them and prayed nobody had touched them.

One of those blood monsters missed her at a crossroads as it crashed into a shop. A family ran out and Rayla watched as the creature fled and found another establishment to crash into.

It moved around the people in its way and chose a tavern to destroy.

She realized it wasn’t hurting anybody. The blood beast was just breaking things and causing a general panic.

Was it searching for something?

People were quickly vacating this part of town where the beast was rampant and Rayla knew before she even heard her voice.

“You took my invitation.”

Rayla twisted on her heel and tightened her grip on her swords.

“You can’t do this to a town of people, Anarr.”

Anarr didn’t smile this time. “I can. I will. And, for the record, Runaan will be a bit too busy to save you this time.”

“Leave him alone. It’s me you want, right?’

Anarr snorted. “Don’t worry, my sun and stars, I won’t kill him. I can’t. This entire thing is naught if I do that.”

Rayla shook her head this time. “Don’t you ever give up?”

This time, Anarr smiled. She hadn’t drawn her weapon or moved. The surrounding roads were vacant now, but the distant screaming and chaos echoed in the distance. “I was his best, you know. Runaan’s, I mean. I was his second. You know that, of course. Our relationship wasn’t like yours, but I think once upon a time he might have thought of me as a sister. No, Runaan’s relationship with you is much deeper. If he happens to get past my blood beasts on his own--” Rayla’s heart dropped into her stomach. “He might take my head on sight. For you, naturally, my sun and stars. Always for you.”

“And why do you always call me that?”

Anarr’s green eyes were piercing. “Because you are. Not mine, of course. Runaan’s. You are his sun and stars. The only living reminder he has of your parents. The only child he’ll likely ever raise with Ethari.”

Rayla said nothing. She didn’t know what to say.

Her blades twisted in her hands. Her side hurt.

“You look better. But if we fight now,” Anarr said. “You will lose. And you know it. Runaan would go home and never be the same.”

“You would let him live?”

“For a time. I want him to live with Ethari’s grief for a while before I deal with him.”

“... Runaan never meant to hurt you.”

Anarr lowered into a stance. “I don’t care.”

She was lightning as their blades clashed and sparked in the bitter cold.

-:-:-:-

The blood creatures attacked him all at once.

Thankfully, Runaan knew exactly what he was running into when he went after Rayla. He saw her, but lost her in the people running to and fro. Then, Anarr’s creatures descended on him.

He dodged and moved. They were vicious, but not unpredictable. The size of their “bodies” forced them to make fast, sweeping movements that required some anticipation before their attacks.

He’d managed to slice one of them similar to the way Callum had back on the icy lake. Now, there were two.

Two that weren’t exactly taking turns going after him. He used the corners to evade them at first, using their size against them as they swung around the corner.

He had a feeling they were here just for him. Rayla’s trap was obvious, but she’d gone anyway. For these humans. For people who would just as soon execute her.

Perhaps Ethari was right.

She’d proven herself. He trusted Rayla, but a part of him didn’t. That part of him came from a deeper place he tried to put aside during missions.

But he would be damned if he let Anarr kill her just to get to him.

Runaan climbed the roofs and watched as those things searched for him. So, they couldn’t sense him. He left them to their destruction.

-:-:-:-

Rayla couldn’t keep this up. She was tiring too fast and her side was getting agitated.

Anarr didn’t have to try as hard, but she was definitely aggressive. She shoved Rayla into a wall and the only thing that saved her from a blade to the head was to push Anarr away. They were still in the street, with the snow crunching under their feet.

Their blades clashed; their hearts pounded. Anarr was calculated and wild at the same time. Her swings were personal, her intentions fueled by fire.

Anarr played the long game, and she played it wildly.

“You were really going to jump, weren’t you?” Anarr asked, panting. They circled each other. “With that human? You trust him that much?”

“With my life.”

“A mistake. Mark my words, Rayla. One day, he will break your heart.”

Rayla rolled her eyes. “Right. I’ll be sure to take your advice.”

They met again in the middle, their swords sparking. This time, Rayla buckled, and Anarr punched her in the face.

“You’re mine.”

“Anarr.”

Runaan was already aiming at her. Rayla knew before she even looked up.

Anarr turned and smiled. “Go ahead. Shoot me. You can try, anyway. I’d love for you to miss and hit poor Rayla.”

Runaan kept the arrow on her, but he didn’t dare release it. Not when Anarr could just move and Rayla might just get an arrow in the chest.

“Runaan, I love how you just keep walking into my messes. But I suppose you have no choice if your protégé here keeps running into them.”

“Stop talking as if you’re not getting tired. I know having three of those things is too much for you.”

“Does it matter?”

“What’s the point of all this? You make traps and don’t come through with them when I know you can. You’ve had every chance. You never used to enjoy playing with your food before you ate it.”

“That was before. This is now.”

“I know what I did, but you hanging onto the past is your own fault.”

She growled. “What do you know? You’ve been living with the love of your life! You married him! You raised her with him. But you definitely made certain that I paid for my mistake.”

“Rayla has nothing to do with this.”

“She will have everything to do with this when I make you clean up her blood!”

Rayla lunged at her. “You talk too much!”

The two of them wrestled on the ground and Rayla picked up one of her swords, swiping at Anarr. She could see Runaan coming to her out of the corner of her eye, but Anarr kicked Rayla off and right into Runaan.

“You know what I think, my sun and stars?” Anarr panted, raising something in her hand. “I think I’ll leave you to deal with these humans.”

Humans.

With the blood beasts gone, people were starting to come back to the streets.

And Rayla’s amulet was in Anarr’s hand.

Rayla touched her neck, her chest. Gone. She looked up and Anarr was already leaving, disappearing as the humans began to shout.

“It’s an elf!”

“They must both be elves!”

“They brought those evil things here!”

Rayla shook her head. “No, it’s not like that! Another elf was trying to hurt you and--”

Runaan grabbed her and ran down an alleyway. He didn’t listen to her protests as they went through twists and turns, the humans right behind them. They found a ladder, and he urged her up, watching as the humans went looking for them.

“Runaan, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t leave them like that.”

“You were reckless. You would have died.”

“I had it under control.”

“You walked right into a trap, and what’s worse is that you knew you did. You are not these humans’ hero. They have no love for you.”

“I know that. But they just don’t understand. Runaan, Anarr was destroying their town.” Rayla put her swords away as they stood. “I’m not trying to be their hero, but--”

He cut her off. “They are a mob. And you cannot reason with a mob. Nothing you said would have made a difference. Anarr did her job. Now, every human town from here on out will be looking for us. Any group of obvious strangers will become immediately suspicious.”

Rayla paused. She… hadn’t thought of that.

Of course, she hadn’t.

She rubbed her arm and said nothing. There was nothing to say and sorry wouldn’t fix how she made their mission more difficult, yet again.

There was a silence between them. Runaan let it linger.

Finally, he stood up and walked to the edge of the rooftop.

“Let’s go. We need to leave.”

She followed with nothing left to say.

Whew! Sorry this chapter took so long! I'm sick and in the last weeks of this quarter for school on top of the Rayllum zine and other obligations to projects! You'll want to keep an ear out for the Rayllum zine on Twitter and Tumblr! It'll have some stuff pertaining to this fic! And if you're a fan, trust me on this, you'll want to tune in on the info!

But enough of that tease, I know this is shorter and another transition, but the next arc is going to be a big deal so I wanted to ease us into it. As always, I love the reviews you guys leave. They truly keep me motivated and keep me writing. Thank you for reading! Tune in for next chapter!

Please consider reviewing on AO3

#the dragon prince #tdp #rayllum #rayla #callum #my fics

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deartoulouse · 4 years

Text

( maxence danet-fauvel, cis male, he/him )╰ ✧ ˔ ⭒ magic is in the air ! oh wait - that’s just our newest neighbour, TOULOUSE BONFAMILLE, the TWENTY-THREE year old FREELANCE ARTIST. they’ve been relocated from pastoral city, and so far the locals claim that they’re PROTECTIVE and PENITENT, just like TOULOUSE from THE ARISTOCATS. if you ask me, they seem like the type to enjoy TUSSLED HAIR & PAINT COVERED SHIRTS. apparently, they are REMORSEFUL about entering rome pines, and i don’t think their power of PRECOGNITIVE DREAMING will help them this time. let’s just hope they can adjust to the new neighbourhood…⭒˔ ╮

✎ THE STORY

( this backstory is just working off of the brilliant creativity of marie bonfamille’s, originally written by honey over at @pinkglossed - she’s the one who came up with the basic plotpoints, and i wouldn’t dare take any credit for them ! )

he was a surprise, toulouse bonfamille. the first of three, he was born out of wedlock, the result of a spontaneous romance driven by greed on one side, love on the other - attitudes perfectly reflected in his parent’s approaches towards their son. no one would have ever known that daphné hadn’t originally set out to have a child by the way she treated him, seemingly perfectly suited for motherhood from the word go - though she made plenty of mistakes, as all first-time mothers do, she made up for it with plenty of attention and adoration, and even after the births of his siblings she still found plenty of time to spoil him rotten. edgar, though, was a different story - while he was able to tick the basic parenting boxes, if he ever put in an effort to be a good, caring father, toulouse can’t remember it. towards both his fiancée and children, he was indifferent at best, cruel at worst, and it would be safe to say he was far from distraught when, not long before his eighth birthday, daphné finally packed up their things and moved them out of his childhood penthouse and into the bonfamille estate, leaving edgar behind for good.

toulouse adored his new home. he felt free in the estate - his days were spent running up and down lavishly decorated hallways, shepherding his brother and sister around sunlit gardens, or, his favourite, staring up at his grandmother’s practical gallery of historic paintings. he’d loved art since before anyone could remember, and though he’d often been chastised by edgar for making a mess back in the penthouse, his room in the estate quickly became more akin to a studio, even at his young age. the longer he stayed there, the less he wanted to leave - especially when it came time for his father’s court-permitted visitations. the only time toulouse would ever put up a fight against his mother’s orders was when he had to see edgar, but according to daphné, bad dreams weren’t a good enough reason to get out of it. it would take a few reluctantly sat through visitations for what seemed to be his instinct to be proven right - though still now he wishes it hadn’t been, even if it ended up meaning never having to see him again.

(tw: kidnapping) he was nearly nine years old when his father tried to take the three of them, and it was one of the worst days of his life. he’d put up a good fight at first, trying to channel everything he’d learned and admired about the action heroes he’d had to look up to in edgar’s place, but he was a child going up against a grown man - it was no match. all he could think about was protecting marie and berlioz, so much so that when they were finally returned to daphné and adelaide, he couldn’t fathom why they were making a fuss over him, too, instead of just his siblings like he had been - if he wasn’t already willing to do whatever it took for his brother and sister, that day certainly cemented the fact.

despite everything, there was one good thing that came out of the short abduction: the family could put a name to toulouse’s power. what had once been just a vague sense of deja-vu was finally confirmed to be precognitive dreaming, the ability to see future events, or at least hints to future events in his dreams - but truly, toulouse wasn’t all that impressed. afterall, what good was seeing bad things happen if there was nothing he could do to stop it, especially when his dreams were as vague as they were?

even though all three children came out of the ordeal in one piece, it was clear that it had affected toulouse deeply - in the weeks following, he’d only get a few hours of sleep a night, often too paranoid about leaving the doors and windows unlocked and unwatched, and when he did finally drift off, his restless dreams barely left him feeling rested. he put a lot more effort into trying to appear ‘tough’, in school especially - even years after what had happened, he made sure to surround himself with friends who made him seem more imposing, as afterall, it was a lot easier to keep an eye out for his siblings when he was keeping watch from the top of the foodchain. the self-imposed duty of being the ‘man of the house’ weighed heavily on his shoulders, only made heavier by his lingering guilt that he hadn’t been able to do more to help his siblings when he was a kid - though he was still close with his mother and could happily while away an evening lounging around with or teasing his brother and sister, there were plenty of times that he’d need to seclude himself to avoid snapping at them like he so often did his teachers in school.

unable to properly talk about the kidnapping, not even to his family, the only escape toulouse had was his art - though perhaps not always shown in the subjects of his work, every piece he produced was, truly, a part of him, the weight of the brushstrokes or the carelessness of the colours a snapshot of how he was feeling or what he was thinking about. over the years, it became difficult to find anywhere to even just sit down in his room - what with all the sketchbooks, canvasses, boxes of paints and piles of brushes, the only place someone could relax was his bed, but even then, his dreams, turning more frequently to nightmares, made that difficult, too.

even almost a decade after what had happened, toulouse was still struggling with the weight he was carrying - he hadn’t properly cared about his grades in years, he didn’t seem to have much of a plan for his life after school, and as it became clearer that his powers didn’t have much of a practical application, he simply didn’t know what to do with himself. all of that changed, though, when he met his mother’s new boyfriend - given his only other experience he’d had with a father figure, he’d been more than apprehensive about ‘thomas o’malley’ when daphné first delivered the news, but once they met, it barely took any time at all for him to warm up to the newcomer. thomas was just like the characters he’d spent his childhood trying to replicate, but though he was tough, impressive, he was still sociable, still charming, still kind. despite how short a time he’d been with the family, he ended up being the only one to get toulouse to properly open up about his feelings, and though he helped him stay tough, he helped him mellow out at the same time, as well as gave him the confidence to start putting his paintings out into the world, something he’d only ever really done for friends of his grandmother’s who were looking for portrait artists. even though it was somewhat late in the game, with toulouse being seventeen when they met, he tried to do everything he could to take after and make his new role model, his soon-to-be-step-father, proud.

(tw: death) against all odds, toulouse was actually able to demonstrate a decent turnaround at school, managing to let his walls down in his final year and drawing in friends who liked him for his genuine charm rather than his status in the social hierarchy. he’d spent most of his school years seeing art classes as nothing but a distraction from what he actually wanted to do, but once he started trying to be as passionate in the classroom as when he was at home, he found himself becoming something of a standout to his art teachers, so much so that he not just won himself a few academic awards, but through one of these awards, an invitation to attend a fine arts school in paris. though he’d joke it was a fluke based on his name, he truly wanted nothing more than to accept - if only to make adelaide proud. see, he’d been trying to pay more attention to his dreams, and though they were as vague as ever, he knew there were bad signs - he spent most of his final year of school hanging around his grandmother, if only to be safe, but eventually, his worst fears were proven right. he was just as distraught as the rest of the family when she passed, but what really broke his heart were the reactions of his mother and sister, and though he was supposed to be on a boat bound for france only a couple weeks later, he knew there was no way he could leave them behind.

instead of following in the footsteps of the greats, he chose to stay a kid from a middle-of-nowhere island in the mediterranean - though his personal art was still a release for him, he tried to use his skills to provide for his family, finding odd jobs both around pastoral city and online, doing everything from selling his old art to designing patterns, illustrating kid’s books to painting shop wall murals. though over the next five years he did sometimes reconsider whether or not he’d made the right choice in declining the paris offer, in the end, his desire to be close to his family always won out - eventually, he only moved because there was literally no other choice.

toulouse hadn’t slept well in the weeks leading up to the fire - though he did sometimes get just normal dreams, the catastrophic nature of the ones that kept visiting him were starting to feel far too frequent to be a coincidence. as always, there was nothing he could do when the blaze actually came except for make sure his family were all accounted for - but as he crossed into rome pines, he left not just his home, but his life’s work behind. in his rush to make sure everyone was safe, he neglected to save even a single sketchbook, and the realisation crushed him more than anything else. his canvases had held his growth, his soul - and they’d only served to be kindling.

though he’s managing to keep on as a freelancer, again, something’s shifted - the work he’s getting paid for is the only work he’s managing to finish. every time he’s tried to do something personal, he can’t help but get dragged down by guilt halfway through - though it’s not as if unfinished work is something new, not being able to produce a single finished piece is killing him. he knows there’s not much he could’ve done, but still, he can’t help but feel responsible for the devastation, that he didn’t do more to help people in advance - even with most of the money he’s making going towards those who need it, he doesn’t feel like it’s enough. it’s overwhelming.

he’d say he was burnt out if the irony of the phrase didn’t hurt so much.

✎ THE PERSONALITY

though toulouse has always had a tendency to lean into sarcasm and appearing to not take things too seriously, he is, above all, an incredibly caring soul, no matter how much he tries to hide it. this is perhaps best demonstrated through how seriously he takes the duty of protecting his family, especially his brother and sister - though he would, of course, be the first to make fun of them, being the eldest, he’s the first person someone would have to answer to if they were to wrong either of them. in general, though, he feels a strong sense of responsibility, even for things entirely out of his control, something which mainly manifests itself in guilt.

despite how burdened he feels by his responsibilities, toulouse can be very charming and casual - so long as proper emotional talks are off the table, he can happily while away a day just chatting to someone. though there are times that he does just need to be alone, more often than not he prefers to be by someone else’s side, and he much prefers undertaking new experiences with someone there with him. though he’s mellowed out somewhat since he was a teenager, he does still occasionally try to put up his more tough persona, if only as a safeguard for himself or, more importantly, someone else.

even when he’s acting more laid-back and humourous, he is still quite sensitive to the feelings of others. there are times where it wouldn’t be unfair to call him childish, but this would rarely be high-stakes moments - he’s always very intentional with what he’s saying, what his tone is, and though he can get it wrong sometimes, for the most part, he does his best to keep what he’s adding to a conversation in line with the context of who he’s talking to. even so, he can still be reactionary at times, and occasionally has a bit of a short fuse sort of temper - just because he tries to note what's going on around him doesn't mean he can't jump to wild conclusions.

✎ HEADCANONS

he was given lessons in many different artistic fields as a child, and though painting is obviously the one that stuck, he is a pretty decent singer and knows a fair bit of piano. of all the endeavours he was encouraged to pursue, sculpting is the only one he genuinely grew to loathe - clay just never ended up his friend.

also thanks to his grandmother, he speaks fluent french.

though toulouse is what he introduces himself as and is known as in his family, he isn’t entirely opposed to nicknames - the most common is lou/louie, or some variation of it.

literally incapable of having tidy hair. it’s clean as anything, sure, but it’s always proved to be absolutely impossible to style neatly.

his full name is toulouse matisse bonfamille, but neither of his namesake henris are his favourite artist - he leans more towards the works of théophile steinlen, alfonso ossorio, and joaquín sorolla.

#SELF PORTRAIT ✎ about !#fantasiafalls:intro #death tw #kidnapping tw #tldr he's a jock with a heart of gold if jocks did art instead of sport

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razorblade180 · 5 years

Text

Twin Snowflakes pt6: A slow morning

Summer:.......

Shiva:*smiling* Aren’t you going to invite me in?

Summer:How is this happening?

Shiva:Come on, your are weak but not stupid. I’m sure you already have a few ideas. *skipping to the bed*

Summer:.....I’m still sleeping aren’t I?

Shiva:Bingoooo!!! *flops on bed* Gods I forgot how soft this bed was! It’s been ages since I layed here; reminds me of the real deal. Can’t wait to lay in it again.

Summer:*glares* Fat chance....

Shiva:Oh wipe that ridiculous look off your face and take a breather. No way I’m fighting you in this place. I just wanna talk.

The young woman layed back up and crossed her legs elegantly as she stared down Summer who was still in the door way. The smug smile that she wore was nothing new to her condescending attitude but it held a certain light hearted feature to it. Summer could tell that Shiva was telling the truth, so why did that only make her more anxious?

Shiva:There’s enough room in this bed for two you know?

Summer:I’m perfectly fine standing here. *tensing up*

Shiva:Whatever makes you less scared. Just when I thought you were getting more assertive. I guess it’s just desperation that made you steal those vials.

Summer:How....I was warm with that happened.

Shiva:Yeah but you’ve been thinking about it nonstop and obviously you’re cold enough for all this to happen. It’s only natural I find out; does natural even apply to us. Huh, something to ponder for later. Right now I’m way more interested in what exactly do you hope to accomplish. I tried digging deeper in that pretty head of yours but I can only get so deep, or maybe you’re winging it. *stands up*

Summer:Like I’d tell you. Just know your days are numbered.

Shiva:Funny, took the words right out my mouth. If anyone knows just how big the difference is from creating plan and executing it properly, it’s you. How many times has it been I wonder, since I left you freezing to death in your own mind? By now your friends and family have to be really tired of dealing with you.

Summer: Their problem is with you, not me!

Shiva:Now now Summer, do you really want to yell at me?

A chill ripped through her suddenly as her feet were frozen in place. The air itself started to get cooler to her discomfort. Despite her efforts, Summer started to shiver a little as Shiva walked closer. A piece of Summer really wanted to scream but refused to. The urge slowly growing though as her captors hand reached out to her. Nimble fingers on her left cheek caused the poor girl to nearly jump out her skin. Something told her that speaking wasn’t a good idea at the moment.

Shiva:That’s better, I really like this room the way it is. As I was saying, you’re nothing but a burden. The one’s you love wouldn’t be tired of me if you were strong enough to get rid of my from the start. Maybe then mommy dearest wouldn’t have a cute little scar that runs across the first one at the bottom. Man can she dodge like nobodies business. I wanted to leave a much bigger reminder of our meeting. If memory serves me well then it was diamond dust that caused the reaction and the whole apartment. History re-

Summer:*grabs wrist* That’s never happening again. You’re not catching anyone off gaurd by a long shot. We’ve learned many things in six years and you’ll feel like nothing but a bad dream in six more. My family will be just fine.

Shiva:Ah, there’s that little fire in your eyes. Always ready to come out whenever someone threatens mommy, daddy, or big brother. It’s the only time you are actually interesting. I wonder if it’ll keep you warm against me, or you’ll burn yourself by clinging to it?

..............

Shiva:Hmph, well I think I’ve had enough fun for the moment. I suppose I should let you rest while you still can; it’s only fair.

Summer:*lets go* Gee how thoughtful....

Shiva:Goodbye little one. I’m gonna enjoy this bed. *puts cover on the floor*

Summer:What are you-

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Her body jolts violently as her eyes open. The right side of her body aches and feels like it’s on something way less soft than she is used to. Slowly her senses come back and notices that she’s currently on floor next to a knocked over heater. Shiva’s surprise appearance started to make sense; just another precaution to add to the list. The dim light hit Summer’s face from the bedroom window told her it was still early. As much as she wanted to move back to her bed, all the strength she had was put into placing the heater back up right. Then she pulled the cover down to the floor with her and went back sleep.

xxx

Year round, Atlas always looked like a work out art at a museum in Nicholas eyes. Freshly fallen snow in the beginning of Winter though, that’s when Atlas becomes the center piece of it all. Crisp air tickles his nose as he walks down the quiet streets with two coffees in hand. Behind him the sound of snow crunching in his previous foot steps gets louder. He raises the coffee in his left hand for it to be promptly grabbed.

Valerie:Five sugars!?

Nick:With a small amount of cream for good measure.

Valerie:Man if there’s one thing I miss about school mornings, it’s this baby right here.

Nick:*chuckles* You do realize you could’ve gotten one of those at anytime you wanted right?

Valerie:Nah, they’re reserved for this moment every time or it feels less special. Coffee on the way to school is our thing; don’t want to abuse that.

Nick:If you say so. What happens when we eventually graduate then.

Valerie:I’ll get it once in a blue moon and remember all the good times of combat school.

Nick:Do good times and combat school even fit together like that?

Valerie:Now you sound like your sister. Speaking of which......

Nick:Doubt she’ll show up today.

Valerie:Such a shame. One of these days a teacher is gonna blow a fuse. I don’t even think the Prince of Atlas could stop them from expelling her.

Nick:They will as long as I make the school look good and please don’t call me that. “A prince is nothing compared to knight that chooses to defend him.”’ I’d rather be the knight.

Valerie:I don’t see why you can’t be both. Your parents might as well be kickass King and Queen but I digress. Can’t really blame Summer for wanting to skip the P.E. physical.

Nick:*eyes widened* Gods I’m stupid,m. Of course that’s why she’s not here. It skipped my mind the two of you have that today.

Valerie:Not surprising, you don’t wittiness the crap that goes down. One of these days I might just fight half the girls in that locker room.

Nick:That bad huh?

Valerie:It’s not like they’re even saying much either, but the way all of them stare. Silently judging and forming opinions about her scars makes me wanna drop kick all of them. *aggressively sips coffee*

He couldn’t help but smile at his oldest friend’s remark. Valerie definitely was never one to put someone in their place. She was typically open and blunt just like her mother. Frankly it was hard to tell if any of Ren’s mannerisms or genes; especially with her hair being short. He sort of missed seeing it long if he was honest with himself. She’s kept it short since the day she decided to start “exploring.” Nicholas took a long sip of his drink to avoid making a frown. Both of them would do anything for Summer; that’s his sister and Valerie is her closest friend as well, but he knows that friendship probably isn’t what compels her to help. He’d have to be naive to believe it was.

Valerie:Hmmm? What’s wrong Nicholas?

Nicholas:Nothing, just thinking about the test is all.

Valerie:Nice try, that’s not a “I’m afraid of a test look.” You’re way to smart and study hard. I bet that expression doesn’t even exist. Something else is up.

Nick:Well maybe this is the first time I’m worried about a test so you finally see the expression? *sips loudly*

Valerie:*pouts* I hope you know that you can tell me anything right? We’re best friends remember. *nudges him*

Nick:Yeah I know?(That’s the problem....)

Valerie:*smiles* So be straight with me instead of giving me the run around.

Nick:I just really want you to lo.........

Valerie:To....?

Nick:To....keep an extra good eye on Summer for the upcoming weeks. Classes are starting again, tournament preparation, the usual bullies, etc. It be a bit overwhelming for her in the beginning. Look after her if she needs any help.

Valerie:Of course! I’ll always be there for Summer!

Nick:Trust me, I know you will.

Valerie:That goes the same for y-

Nick:VAL!!!!. *grabs her arm*

He yanks her left arm to pull her in close to him The sudden movement causes her tense up as they see a car swerve onto the sidewalk at high speed before taking off moments from where she just stood. Her head is still processing the events that unfolded as her body is being held tightly against Nicholas’s shorter and slightly smaller frame. His body shaking with adrenaline. He began shouting at the car angrily.

Nick:LEARN HOW TO DRIVE IN THE SNOW DUMB ASS!!!!

Valerie:Wow, that was.....close.

Nick:*lets her go* Are you okay!? Nothing clipped you?

Valerie:......

Nick:Valerie!?

Valerie:*shakes head* Sorry, I’m alright. That was just ummmm, wow that was close. Lucky you were here. I guess it’s officially that time of the year again.

Nick:The only down side of all the ice and snow. Tsk, I gotta a deal with a whole season of this again. You sure you’re okay?

Valerie:*rotating shoulder* Yeah I’m good. Wasn’t expecting that yank but it’s better than a tire on my chest.

Nick:Oh, sorry about that. Guess I went full force.

A bluish bruise was left where he grabbed her arm. While he frowned at it, Valerie was actually a bit surprised and a bit impressed. Seeing Nicholas that serious outside of a match is a rare sight. Forever he’s cool, collected, and isn’t one to show up that much. She could count the number of times that he’s actually caught an attitude with somebody. Soon her aura kicked in and erased the bruise all together.

Valerie:Look, all better in no time at all. Also no need to apologize for saving my skin. *smirking* Been awhile since I’ve seen that level of pissed off from you.

Nick:*red* Well can you blame me!? Almost had a tragedy today.

Valerie:Oh but we still do...*points to the snow*

Both of them watch the white snow become dyed brown and melting from their spilled morning brew. Sadly they pick up the trash and continue to walk.

Valerie:Better the drinks than me but still a shame.

Nick:Sigh, Maybe I should’ve stayed in bed today too. Tomorrow let’s just ride the bus.

Valerie:*giggles* You’re the boss!

The two of them walked twice as fast to school until they ended up in front of the school. Nothing amazing about the building really. Just the regular combat/high school. Half the size of Beacon or Atlas maybe which makes since considering there’s no dorms. Just plenty of class rooms, a huge cafeteria, and a massive space in the back filled with multiple area’s designed for different sports. All in all the back had to be a least a couple of acres give or take but it’s mostly for the track and plenty of open space. They’ve arrived before most students even though they walked. Winter break must be making everyone a bit sluggish. Thes shiny white and gray hallways should have tons of people struggling to remember their locker combinations right now.

Valerie:Looks like most people are following your sister’s lead about school. Oh well, that just means science might be quiet for a change. Only one way to find out. *walking away* If I see you in between classes I’ll give you the inside scoop on the test.

Nick:I’d rather you just make sure you pass so all that studying wasn’t for nothing.

Valerie:Deal! Consider it my way of thanking you from earlier.

Nick:......

Nick:I don’t wanna be that guy but that gift doesn’t sound worth it.

Valerie:Hehehe, I guess you’re right. Give me some time to think about it. Love ya! *runs off*

Nick:.....Sigh, not the way I wish you would.

Valerie:(Hmmm for second I thought he had something in mind. Oh what to do? Maybe Summer can give me a couple ideas later; possibly even make a whole day out of it!) *grinning* Pfft wouldn’t that be nice?

Nick:*opening Locker* (Okay, Take notes in history for two, Ace a science test, lunch, free period, and then help organize the tournament. Should be a calm day.)

P.A. System:Would all members of the student council please meet in the auditorium during first period? Thank you...”

Nick:Okay, no notes I guess. I can always use free period. Still a calm day. *closes locker*

He turns around to see a middle aged black man dressed in a stylish black suit with a cyan tie and a black fedora with a ribbon around it that matches the tie. The man smiles at Nicholas who displays a neutral face that slowly turns into one of exhaustion, even though the day just started.

Nick:Hello Mr. Coal.

Flynt:Hello Nicholas, shall we talk in the courtyard or my office.

Nick:The principal’s office always has candy so I think you know my answer.

Flynt:Let’s mosy on then.

Nick:Sigh, I wish I still had my coffee.

Part 5

#rwby twin snowflakes #rwby #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #val valkyrie #flynt coal #rwby whiteknight

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lizzytheauthor · 4 years

Text

Hey-o, not sure where I’m gonna upload my writing yet, probs google drive but I haven’t gotten around to it yet, so here’s the prologue to the new thing! Also, this is going to be horror, so if you are unnerved easily, or don’t handle horror easily, you might want to avoid this. There will be themes of questioning reality, loss of time, loss of free will, and more. I’ll try to tag what’s applicable this prologue is (mostly) tame though.

Prologue

“You know, you’re lucky! This center has only been open for about a month. People are already raving about how it’s going to ‘revolutionize the field of psychology’. It’s booked straight through the next year.”

I continue staring out the car window. Whatever this state worker thinks is comforting...well, clearly she’s never actually talked to a kid before, or rather, taken note of their reactions.

“’Completely cured in two weeks of less!’ Doesn’t that sound great?” she continues.

She’s practically begging for me to feed into her. I don’t.

“Well, I’ve already taken a handful of kids there, and they have seen remarkable improvement so far.” she pauses, to see if I say anything.

I see this, center? No, this looks more like those old crazy houses in the horror films. The kind that have ghosts around every corner. The bronze plaque on the gate reads, ‘The Institute of Revolutionary Hypnosis’. Two weeks and I’ll be cured? Sounds unlikely. How can you ‘cure’ someone of the trauma of seeing...I don’t buy it.

We pull up and get out of the car. I look up at the building, and spot a woman staring at me through the window, 3rd floor up, long brown hair or black? It’s a bit creepy, but I suppose you find those kinds of people here don’t you?

“Come on, now, please?” I hear a tinge of irritation in her voice. Which she quickly tries to mask with that please at the end.

It only comes off as bitter to me. I’ve always been good at reading emotions though, maybe to others they wouldn’t see it.

As we walk towards the door I see two very large, very intimidating, men on either side of the double doors, which also seem larger than normal. Maybe. Between them is a lady, she seems young, but still older than me.

She lets out a far too cheerful, “Hello! You must be…?”

The social worker answers for me, “Ah, this is,” she reads her clipboard, “Ralph Gingham?” she looks over at me for confirmation, I nod. “He’s scheduled for treatment, you should be expec-”

“Yes! Ralph! We’ve been waiting for you. C-PTSD, right? Probably some other things rattling around in there too, eh?” the receptionist lady says this with a smile that seems off. I don’t like how happy she is discussing my mental illness. This whole exchange feels off and artificial. Like they are both read the lines for a play, and I’m trying to guess the blanks.

“Yea, I was under the bed when my parents were killed. I guess it fucked me up or something.” I can’t help myself, maybe it’s their cheerfulness. I can’t stand the happiness of everyone around me, while I’m…

“Well aren’t you a cheery one!!” she interrupts my thoughts with the statement. Not a question. “Well, let’s get started with the tour! I can take him from here.”

Almost imperceptibly, I feel like I see her wink, at the state worker. No, maybe not. I don’t know. Maybe. Who knows?

We enter the lobby, past the large men. I get the feeling I won’t be getting past them if I think about fleeing. It’s large, and mostly empty. There’s a desk, with a chair and a computer, and a phone. The typical stuff you would expect from a reception desk. Some potted plants scattered around, although they look fake. Nothing offensive, and perfectly normal.

“So, let’s start! I’m sure you’re dying to see where you’ll be staying for the next two weeks!” Every word out of her mouth feels rehearsed, very well rehearsed.

“Uh, sure. I guess.” As we walk into the first hall, it only just occurs to me that none of my stuff is here. Wait, “Oh, hold on. My backpack, I left it in the-”

“Oh no worries, I’m sure you can handle two weeks without your game boy!” she sticks her tongue out at me, and I’m immediately offended. “All your clothes, food, entertainment, everything! We supply it here. No pesky outside communication to disturb your thoughts, your recovery.”

I have no reason to trust her, but I can’t exactly go running out the front door. So, I guess that’s that. I’m excommunicated from the world for two weeks.

We walk through the hall, I think I missed what the receptionist said. I feel like we’re heading towards a cafeteria, but that’s all that is, a feeling. The hall is spotless, no smudges, no cobwebs, nothing. I’d swear it was painted yesterday, but as I drag my hand across the wall, no paint comes off on me.

I bump into the now stopped receptionist.

“Excuse me, could you not do that?” she asks me.

“What?” I feign ignorance, though I know she’s talking about my hand along the wall.

“The uh, dragging your hand. Hitting the doors bothers the other...roommates” the pause she has before roommates bothers me, but not nearly as much as the fact that I didn’t notice any doors in the hall before. Normally if I drag my hand along a wall I can feel the gaps for a door, or something.

I didn’t with this hall. I decided to just listen to her, and walk obediently by her side.

“Thank you!” she resumes her cheerful tone and her quickened pace.

We enter the cafeteria, and it’s tidy. Not quiet, but not loud. The first thing I notice is that the people in here seem to be of widely varying ages. Some old ladies, some younger boys.

“I didn’t realize everyone here was so...varied.” I say.

“Oh yes, there’s no issues between roommates, since the treatment just works that well. Honestly, we cure you after just two or three sessions, but we need to keep you for a little longer to make sure nothing comes back.” she points to a sign in the cafeteria, ‘Days since last incident: 439’

“I thought you just opened last month?”

“I don’t know where you learned that, but no, we’ve been open for 439 days,” she pauses, smiling at me, “as you can see, we’ve never had an incident. And we don’t expect that to change any time soon.”

I don’t believe her. I don’t know, maybe I don’t believe the social worker. Who knows. I’ve never heard of this place either way, and I can’t exactly look it up, can I?

We make our way to the line workers, the people serving the food. All of them are smiling as they work, which doesn’t seem. I don’t know, it seems off, but not overtly so. “Hi Miranda,” one says with a wave.

“Hey Brian, how are you feeling today?” neither of them breaking their smile

“Fantastic! Here for some food?” it was just then that he notices me, “Oh! Hello sport. How are you?”

Miserable, actually, thanks for asking.

“I’m good. Thanks.” the words leave my lips, but they weren’t mine. Maybe they were? Miranda gives me a look, it makes me feel like she’s happy that I said that.

“Wonderful, always great to hear. Want some pizza? It’s pizza Friday!” he says this with such conviction, I believe him.

I could’ve sworn it was Thursday though. Maybe the days are just blending together, I’ve never been great with dates, even in school.

“Uh,” I look at Miranda.

“He can have a slice, we do have a schedule to keep though.” she says, glancing at her watch.

I happily accept the plate, with a slice of pizza. Maybe I’m just hungry, that’d explain some of the off-ness, right?

We continue walking, we exit the cafeteria, and enter a different hall. I think. Honestly, I can see myself getting very lost here, “Hey, Miranda. What do I do if I get lost?”

She responds, “Oh, you won’t get lost, I promise. This tour is very informative.”

Never breaking her cheerful attitude. She certainly seems confident. This place must take in other types of mental illness? Certainly not everyone is great at navigating this place. I mean, I got lost my freshman year of high school over a dozen times. My high school must have been at least half the size of this place, if not smaller.

On the second floor it’s just...doors. So many doors, and halls.

“This is where most people sleep, obviously the caretakers won’t be sleeping here, but all the roommates do.” Her use of caretakers unnerves me.

“Caretakers? Why do you keep saying roommates? Will I have to share a room?” I can’t stop the questions. They just kinda spill out of me.

“Oh, a quizzical one. The doctors, the watchers, me. That’s what I mean by caretakers, just people who will be taking good care of you.” she pats my head, which makes me feel condescended to. “As for the sharing a room, yes, you will. Just one, we have two people to each room. Most people like the company.” She smiles at me again. “Trust me, you’ll love them.”

Each door has a number and a plaque next to it, with two names each. Seems similar to the hospitals I’ve seen. We walk through a couple hallways, and we stop at room 39. I read my name, ‘Ralph Gingham,’ and underneath, the name, ‘Pete Mozzato’.

“Here’s your room!” she opens the door as she says this. This Pete isn’t here, so I guess he’s out and about. “Pete is really swell, I think you’ll get along nicely.”

“How old is he?” I ask. Again, without thinking.

“He’s 19, same as you.” she gives a brief pause, “We don’t segregate people during relaxed activities, like eating, or playing, or such. But we do try to match each person with a person the same age for sleeping arrangements. ‘It helps the circadian rhythm’”

She says this, but I don’t really understand, nor do I think that’s true. Either way, at least I’ll have someone who can relate to me somewhat.

“And that’s it! You’ll see that we have some decent outdoors equipment, and activities, in the back. Kinda hard to miss those.”

“But, I feel like I haven’t seen a whole half the building, let alone the 3rd floor!” I may have raised my voice a bit.

“Hush, hush. No need to raise a fuss. The third floor is for treatments, you’ll see it plenty. The rest is just other rooms. You’ll see there’s bathrooms scattered about, and you know where the cafeteria is. You also know where there’s activities. That’s all you need.” she walks into my room, expecting me to follow.

And I do.

“I’m sure you’ll want to relax a bit, your schedule is printed on the calendar on your half of the room, Welcome to The Institute of Revolutionary Hypnosis!” She closes the door behind her as she says this. I want to go open the door and yell at her, but I don’t.

Schedule says my first ‘treatment’ is at 9am. I look at the clock, on the wall above the door, and see that it’s already 8:01pm. It’s strange. I didn’t even notice the sun going down, but a glance out the window confirms it. Guess I’m here, let’s hope this helps me.

#horror #my writing

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brookelynnsanders · 4 years

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Practice Challenge 1 - Prompt 1

A/N a very big thank you to my amazing beta @freykitten for fixing my mess. Love you lots! Also thank you to @dawningofdrag for being my personal cheerleader! Hope you guys enjoy

In the Dream Girls and Pageant's flat the weekly post-lecture drinking session has just got started. An array of different whiskies, canned cocktails and wine litters the second hand dining table where Brooke’s Bachelor thesis has laid not five minutes earlier. A’keria pours herself and Brooke the second glass of scotch for the day - the first one was for calming their nerves while finishing up the last touches on their theses. Meanwhile, Nina helps Vanessa transform her favorite homemade dish, puerto rican pasteles de carne, into a vegan version - which seems to take longer than expected. Not really a surprise when considering the fact Vanessa’s abuelita had never used any proper measurements and just went with her gut. And if Brooke isn’t mistaken, she can hear Vanessa argue from the kitchen that the recipe just flows through her Latin blood, and therefore she needs no “motherfucking measurements”. The blonde can only chuckle and slightly shake her head before taking another sip from her drink.

“Kiki, have you seen Silky?” Brooke asks out loud, surprised by how relatively quiet the shared household is. The only noises to be heard coming from the kitchen, and, for once, they don’t even include wild chatter or singing.

“If I remember correctly, she wandered off to buy some pastries, but who knows where Big Silk actually is,” A’keria answers without even taking her eyes off her phone for a second. Her manicured fingers swiping left and right across the screen.

“Are you on tinder again?” A teasing smile present on her lips.

“You fucking know I am.” The snip of her fingers highlights her cocky attitude, knowing damn well most mean swoon over her. Fall for her feisty but wise dementor within seconds.

“Have you matched with- ” The blond starts, before getting cut off mid sentence.

“Guys, girls, and nonbinary pals - I have humongous news!” Silky bursts through the entrance, adding an extra door slam for the shock value. Three pairs of blown wide pupils stare at her - not necessarily in shock, rather in anticipation.

“Spit it out!” Vanessa shouts as Nina popps her head through the doorframe as well. Intrigued by the ongoing comotion - not even bothering about getting the sauce stains off her cheek.

“The application letters for Prince Arin Schreave’s Selection just arrived.”

For a second the world stands still. Everyone, including Brooke, holds their breath. The calm before the storm.

This sentence alone is enough for hell to break loose in the tiny college apartment. Vanessa and A’keria flock around Silky like pigeons waiting for seed to be tossed at them. Vanjie, the shortest of the trio, bounces like a ball around the other two, making up a song with random Spanish words and screeching at the top of her lungs, while A’keria and Silky argue about who would be a better queen. Nina simply settles by Brooke’s side with a small cuckle, brushing her blonde fringe out of the way. Both only roll their eyes, having forgotten about the Selection since the day it has been announced. There've been way more important things on Brooke’s mind - like how many additional hours she needs to spend in the lab to gain extra credit.

"How can someone be so excited about being objectified by the entire nation," Brooke mumbles to herself - very unimpressed by the whole ordeal, not really understanding the hype around the upcoming Selection. How come that her 20 something year old friends turned into 12 year old teenage girls dreaming about life as a royal within seconds?

Hormones - I guess.

"Because this ass deserves to be objectified," Silky whoops, putting on an entire twerking show in the living room with Vanjie and A’keria hyping her up and joining the jelly shaking. Usually Brooke finds her friends intoxicating goofiness amusing without any alcohol in her system. Apparently, today is not the day. So she falls back into her seat, taking a heavy swing of her liquor and watches her friends chatter about the possibility of an average looking rich boy falling for one of them.

An hour passes and the giggly girls still haven't calmed down, and since nearly everyone abandoned the food immediately - it’s between Brooke and Silky to finish the puerto rican delicacy. Tipsy Brooke doesn't mind that now even Nina joined the hype, seemingly having forgotten about her current boyfriend. The blonde keeps herself busy with alternating between online shopping for new pointe shoes and new plants she can add to her steadily growing collection. Not an ideal Friday afternoon, but at least this time around A’keria didn’t forget to buy vegan pork.

A glance to her clock tells her that her favorite trashy TV show starts soon. A silent prayer escapes her lips in hopes that this will spark a different conversation among the girls.

However, her prayer stayed unheard.

Another glass of liquor in, she starts to enjoy the laughter and excitement laying heavy in the air - drowning out the TV. The beaming smiles of her friends slowly melt her cold exterior, making her forget why she is so bitter in the first place. A fuzzy feeling spreads in her chest at the mention of sparkly ball gowns and which jewels would best suit Silky’s and A’keria’s darker complexion. Glue stains might now cover the table surface, but all Brooke can focus on is the twinkle in her friends' eyes. Especially Vanessa’s golden orbs seem to gleam like amber in the late afternoon sun. Brooke can perfectly imagine the same expression on a much younger version of the Latina - sparkling child’s eyes opening neatly wrapped presents on her 6th birthday.

A cashmere-like grin settles on Vanessa’s lips once she catches the blonde stare, adding a wink for good measure.

Ohh no

“Brookey, why don’t you wanna join us and fill out your applic-, aple-, whatever - your letter?” Gold orbs now work their best puppy look, while Vanessa attempts to milk every cute asset she posses, which leaves her with plenty of choice. Her head now rests on her palms propped up on the table, indulging the other woman in a silent staring contest.

“Vanjie, you know how I think about the Selection,” Brooke adds once she's glanced away. Her words merely louder than a whisper, accentuating her naturally husky voice.

“Prince Arin has two sisters,” Nina promptly slides into the conversation. The sly smirk on her face resembles a cat waiting for its prey.

“Yes, I know, Nina, but what does this have to do with me?” Blonde bushy brows are raised high, while her nervous fingertips play with the golden cross around her neck.

“Quit this shit, B! We all know you like girls,” A’keria shouts from across the room, head buried in the wine cabinet.

Wait what? Brooke feels her mouth fall agape before shooting back, “I’m not gay!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Nina retorts, which the blond pretends to overhear and checks the time on her phone again. An hour left before she has to catch her train.

“Well if you don’t wanna fill it out, me and Vanjie will have some fun.”

An eye roll from the blonde’s side is enough to make it clear that she couldn’t care less. Brooke Lynn takes a last swing to empty her glass, before grabbing the rest of the dishes littering the tiny table and bringing them to the kitchen. Instead of resorting to her usual weed abuse, she decides to clean the kitchen instead - hoping to take her mind off certain things. But with each scrubbed plate and cooking utensil the itch in her chest doesn’t seem to go away. What she would give for just a tiny puff- No, Brooke, you are going home tonight. Her shoulders slouch as she scolds herself, nearly missing the commotion going in in the living room. Nearly.

“I swear Brooke will end you if you note down ‘hiding in the closet’ for her special skills.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“Too bad I am not deaf, Silky babe.”

The stern look on the blonde’s face is enough for Vanessa to hide behind A’keria, yet unable to suppress the cackle bubbling up in her throat. However, Silky hasn’t got the memo, and attempts to pick a fight with Brooke. Nina frees the application from A’keria’s grasp and silently finishes filling in the last details needed to complete the form. A tap on Brooke’s shoulder is enough to break the two brawlers apart. The tick paper with carefully placed gold details is placed in Brooke Lynn’s hands who doesn’t look too amused. She slams the neatly filled form onto the table, adding wrinkles to the thoughtfully crafted application.

“Do me favour and just let me be,” Brooke continues with a deep sight, before leaving the common area to retreat to her room, tired of her friends for once. A glance at the clock hanging above her king sized bed tells her she needs to hurry up if she still wants to catch the last train going home, so she grabs her tiny suitcase from her bedroom, slips on a pair of vans, and grabs and olive toned coat.

“Brooke?”

“What?” The annoyance in the blonde’s voice only increases as the blood in her veins starts to simmer. Her fingertips already rest against the cold metal of the doorknob.

“Can you come over for a sec?”

Reluctantly, she turns around and struts towards the direction of the voice. Vanessa is seated alone on the living room floor, everyone else already getting ready for their evening plans - whatever they may be.

“You aren’t mad are you? We were just playing.” The brunette clearly looking worried - probably pondering whether or not she had overstepped a line.

“I know, Nessa, I know. It’s just a touchy subject. You know my parents-”

“I know, B,” Vanessa whispers, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She signs grabby hands at Brooke, silently asking for a hug.

With a loving eye roll, the other woman let’s go off the suitcase handle and envelops the shorter girl in a tight embrace. She sighs deeply as she inhales Nessa’s strawberry scented shampoo, taking a moment to just breathe.

But she can’t stay.

“I gotta go now, V. I don’t wanna miss my train again,” Brooke mumbles into the brunette’s wavy hair. But she holds on a tad bit longer, closing her eyes for just a second.

Vanessa buries her head a bit deeper into Brooke’s embrace cautiously slipping a sheet of paper into the olive coat pocket before letting go.

The blonde gives the smaller woman one last smile, before grabbing her suitcase and walking through the door.

“Have fun in Dakota!” are the last words Brooke hears before leaving her flat behind.

Once her feet collide with the gum littered pavement, she picks up her pace and barely makes it to the platform on time. With a little huff, she slides into an empty cabin, throwing her suitcase on the opposite seat and catches her breath. The train isn’t near its full speed yet when Brooke already opens the window, grabbing the cigarette pack from her coat, unable to resist the urge in her chest, needing to fix her itch. So she lights her last cigarette inside the vehicle in a desperate need for a calm moment in this chaotic week. Praying she will somehow survive the weekend at her parents' place without her bong.

But honestly - how bad could it be?

#Selection oc #Brooke lynn Sanders #Practice Challenge one #Selection #Fanfic #Fic #Written words #please compliment me #Lmao #Jk

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atopearth · 5 years

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Pub Encounter Part 2 - Ryunosuke Yuze Route

HAHAHA omg, Ryunosuke seems like such a shy guy, he blushed when Shiori approached him and started talking to him hahaha. Omgg wow, I didn’t expect Hideaki to be 46!! He looks pretty young compared to the others lol! I guess he’s young at heart? Lolll. Shiori is so slow and silly, lmao when Ryunosuke helped her carry her shopping bags (since she nearly fell, lucky he catched her lol) and she was like, they’re my bags..Hahahaha, of course they’re yours, he’s just helping you carry it loll🤣🤣 It’s kinda cute that they just spontaneously enjoyed their day off together after that. Omgggg, Ryunosuke is the CEO for a lingerie chain?? How unexpected! Lmaooo when he ran away in his car when Shiori found out haahaha, why is he so cute lmao. I’m glad he was very upfront about his apology for how he acted, but I also think it was really nice how he made it clear to her his thoughts towards women and how he can’t find it within himself to trust them and view them positively. Although, I guess, like he said, it is kinda ironic when his job is entwined with women. However, he seems genuinely perplexed about women, I wonder what his past will be like? It’s nice to see Shiori understand that regardless of the fact that she’s a woman, they’re strangers after all, so him not trusting her is fine, so now they just need to be friends and learn to understand and trust each other! I think that’s a nice and positive attitude, I like that~

I feel like the creepy presence that threw a rock at Shiori when they walked home together is probably some jealous woman but yeah~ glad that incident kinda pushed forward their sharing of phone numbers haha. I feel like I’m learning so many surprising things about Ryunosuke, like dang, Ryunosuke at the arcade winning stuffed animals? I would love to see that! Lmao at Shiori begging him to get her one from a series she likes, and he gets her the whole thing lol. I gotta say, Ryunosuke liking cakes and sweet alcoholic drinks is so different from his image, now all I can think about is him happily eating cakes hahaha. Omggg, drunk Shiori attacked our innocent Ryunosuke that was just trying to take her back home!! I feel sorry for the her next day that had to live with those memories that she licked his lips or whatever because she liked the sweet scent from the drink he had loll. And she even started kissing him, and he reciprocated! Like danggg. I’m really liking their chemistry though. They’re obviously interested in each other, but they want to know more about each other and be friends first, and I think it’s great! He consults her on opinions of things he thinks about such as why people seek for eternity, and she had a common answer but I still liked how it was worded. People do want to leave a piece of themselves behind, and I think the idea of putting something intangible into something physical was a really neat way of saying it. We may not “exist” after our deaths, but we can still exist in other ways~!

It was leading to it so it was obvious, but dang, Ryunosuke got stalked by his old secretary… That’s tough… Especially when she only exhibited that behaviour after he became CEO, kinda crazy that it ended up involving the police and trial to get her to stay away from him though. That would be pretty traumatising huh? Really gotta admire Shiori for being undeterred and saying she’ll protect Ryunosuke haha, it’s really sweet, but at the same time I’m so scared of their safety. As usual, I love how upfront they are with their thoughts towards their relationship, and I’m glad they both admitted their feelings, but want to resolve this secretary stalker problem first before they progress further, which is understandable. Ryunosuke kissing her forehead was cute~~

Them sharing their homemade lunches on a bench was so adorable! So cute of them complimenting each other’s cooking hahaha. Honestly though, I feel like with how crazy Itodani was, it’s kinda anticlimactic and a bit unbelievable that she would just let go of it all after Ryunosuke confronted her and told her to back off and find someone she can truly love. Really can’t see how that opened her eyes, especially since she had been harassing him for a long time, and had even harassed his previous secretary too! So yeah, unbelievable but whatever lol. I really like how Ryunosuke likes to do things properly, especially when he gave her flowers and asked her to be his girlfriend. These things don’t necessarily need to be said all the time, but I think saying it really makes things more official and laid out properly to the other person, I think it’s really nice to communicate your intentions thoroughly. Unlike Yorihisa in the previous route, she really doesn’t need to guess how Ryunosuke is feeling because they’ve both been very upfront about it and I think that’s what I love about their relationship.

Considering how polite of a guy Ryunosuke is to everyone, and it was only when Mamoru told him to be more casual with him did he change, really puts into perspective how sweet it is for him to tell Shiori himself that she should talk to him more casually since they’re not strangers anymore. With how much he consults her opinion on his work, she might as well just become his secretary loll. Lmao that he’s been unconsciously checking out her body all the time because he wants her to be the new poster girl of Torenia since the current one has no passion or love towards Torenia’s lingerie etc. LOL when he so boldly said he wanted to see her in her underwear hahahaha, like I know it’s for work but the way he so bluntly said it was funny hahaha. I also liked how when she was a bit embarrassed to wear it after eating, he said that “a love that couldn’t withstand something silly like that would be no love at all”, I honestly thought that was really sweet, especially since he said it like a matter of fact. Honestly, now that I’m on Ryunosuke’s route, I’m starting to really see how bad Yorihisa was, I just realised that for all the crappy things he did, Yorihisa never ever apologised! Whereas, for Ryunosuke, when he knew that his recent busy schedule affected their relationship, he told her that she should be honest with her feelings about it, and when she told him she got scared that they were growing apart, he very conclusively told her that their relationship isn’t that shallow, but he also apologised for making her feel like that with his absence. And I think that’s what is so great about a Ryunosuke tbh. He believes in their relationship and their feelings, but he also makes sure to apologise for making her feel insecure just because he wanted to surprise her with the new brand he was working on.

I knew Ryunosuke was dedicating the new brand to her, but aside from the fact I never thought he would actually call it Shiori, I find it so much more touching that he did it because he remembered that conversation they previously had about leaving something tangible behind as a piece of themselves. I thought that was really cool and thoughtful, it really shows how much Ryunosuke cares about what they talk about. As expected, after her complaints about her job etc, Ryunosuke finally made the move to propose to her and ask her to be his secretary so he could always see her at work and at home, which is so cute hahaha. I have to admit that it was so silly yet cute that Ryunosuke was adamant about living separately after marriage until they could properly move into their newly built home. He’s so formal about it all, but I think that’s a nice serious side of him. Although I prefer how sweet the best ending was, the good ending was really good too! Loved how proactive and bold Shiori was, and she even teased Ryunosuke just to see him blush since she thinks it’s so cute, and it’s also because of his blush that she kinda fell for him haha.

Overall, I really liked Ryunosuke’s route, I feel like it’s going to be my favourite tbh hahaha. Mainly because I feel like they were both very mature in their approach towards the relationship by always being honest, upfront and communicative. Sometimes she needs the push from him to be more honest about her feelings but I think that just speaks more towards his experience with handling people and relationships, so I think even if she can be a little less mature at times, it just kinda shows how she needs his support in that area to grow as a person, whereas he’s older so he knows how to better deal with things? Anyway, doesn’t matter because he’s a gentleman and she’s forward so they match well, and it’s a much more balanced relationship than with Yorihisa haha! I also think it’s rather refreshing that usually when it’s the CEO stereotype, the stories usually kinda flaunt how rich they are with the maids, big houses etc to show how capable they are, but Ryunosuke really seems like a normal person that is very hardworking and capable. He does everything by himself, such as moving houses with Shiori and cooking etc, he knows how to take care of himself and others, and is very considerate, but at the same time it never really retracts from his image, it only boosts it to show that even if he’s very busy, he is perfectly able to take care of himself, so him wanting Shiori in his life is because he really likes spending time with her, and I guess it was refreshing to see Ryunosuke not be that typical CEO type. The only thing I didn’t like was how the stalker thing was resolved, but I really liked how Ryunosuke very slowly but naturally warmed up to Shiori, they had such a realistic relationship, I couldn’t help but swoon the whole time over how cute and natural it was.

#pub encounter

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itsstickball · 6 years

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Rivalry pt.2

(pt.1, pt.3)

Things progressed normally through the regular season and Neil soon found himself breathless staring up at a scoreboard that meant the Furies were going to the National Cup Championship. A moment was all he had to breathe it in before his entire team was swamping the court and sweeping him up into their raucous celebration.

Later, after press duty, showering and changing, Neil checked his phone. There were the usual messages of congratulations, asks to hang out later, a rare “good job” from Kevin – whose own team had qualified the week prior. He was significantly more surprised, however, by the twitter notification saying that he’d been tagged in a message from @AJminyard. It was mostly odd in that Andrew rarely actually tweeted anything his publicist didn’t mandate, and even rarer in that he actually tagged someone rather than just using their actual name.

Curious, he swiped the app open.

Sure enough, Andrew had attached a brief clip of the Furies’ celebration, mostly centered on Neil being hoisted above their heads as the smallest player, his face nearly split in half with a grin. The article it was attached to was fairly congratulatory, and Neil skimmed it for only a moment. Andrew’s comment however, was far more succinct and far less generous.

-Shame @NJos10 won’t be celebrating like that two weeks from now.-

Two weeks, of course, was when the Furies would play the Miami Marauders. For all that Andrew claimed to hate the game, Neil knew that he’d bring his best that night and had every intention of rising to the challenge. And if he played hard enough to beg off from going out with his teammate afterward, no one would blame him.

-We’ll see. @AJminyard-

He replied, swiping back to his texts with a private smile. The rest of the team was waiting in the lounge as he strolled out, duffle in one hand, phone in the other.

“Aw man, look at that baby face! Neil, when are you gonna buck up and let us meet this secret admirer of yours?”

“My what?”

He looked up from his phone to stare quizzically at Martin.

“You’ve got that sappy look.”

Neil turned to Lovejoy for help, but the older man just nodded his head sagely.

“I’m looking at pictures of Matt’s puppy?”

He explained slowly, showing them the most recent round, in which Boulder is dressed in a different doggy jersey for his, Matt’s, Andrew’s and Kevin’s teams, plus a custom one for Dan’s Class II collegiate team, the Devils.

Both older men let out a sigh, but then dutifully comment on how good the puppy looks wearing their purple and red. Neil texts their responses back to Matt and then closes out of his phone. Nila Jones, their female offensive dealer picks that time to sling an arm around Neil’s shoulder and simultaneously join their conversation and steer them out of the room with the rest of the team.

“Hey y’all, the vote was unanimous, for once in our goddamn lives. So, everyone’s off to Chewy’s to celebrate.”

She looked at their various expressions and the way they’d been huddled around Neil’s phone and continues before any of the men can get a word in edgewise.

“What’s with the pow-wow? Don’t tell me you were trash-talking Minyard without me again. I still owe him for that return ball to the ass.”

This time it was Lovejoy and Martin’s turn to look confused.

“Why would we be trash talking Minyard?”

Nila shared a long-suffering look with Neil, who just shrugged and correctly assumed that she’d explain it for him.

“Uh, because the midget just threw down a gauntlet on twitter?”

“Who did what!?”

Another voice called out, drawn in by Nila’s naturally loud voice and fiery attitude.

“Andrew Minyard’s already talking shit to Josten about the playoff game.”

A third voice chimed in, Henry Beckett already passing his phone around with the exchange pulled up.

“Of course, he is.”

Someone else sighed amongst other mutterings or exclamations as the topic of conversation grew to include the rest of the team. Thankfully, their stomachs were just as big of a deal as their chirping and the group continued to migrate out to their cars. Since they were all going to the same place, it was typical to carpool in smaller groups. Neil was less than surprised when several players packed themselves into his “mom car.” It had plenty of seats and a guaranteed DD. He did smile as the conversation washed pleasantly over him, though. Being the driver also had the excuse of having to pay attention to the road rather than feel obligated to join in.

A few minutes in, however, despite those in the back having long moved on to a different topic, Martin brought Andrew’s tweet back up.

“Seriously though, don’t stress yourself about that Marauders game.”

Neil glanced over at him with bland incredulity written on his face.

“Why would I be worried? I practiced against Andrew for four years.”

One of which he was probably actively trying to keep from killing me. He doesn’t add.

Martin laughed, softly and warmly.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be. I just wanted to remind you that we’ve got your back. And if Minyard tries to start anything, I’ve got 40lbs and ten inches on him.”

Neil seriously doubted that was as much of an advantage as Martin thought it was. Andrew could wipe the floor with him. He nodded anyway.

“I’m fine…but uh, thanks.”

Practices for the next two weeks include a lot of speed and precision drills and even more scrimmages. When they play the Arizona Diamondbacks, the win comes almost too easily – even with Laila Dermott in goal. It’s definitely one of the more brutal games of the season, with everyone on both teams pushing themselves to be the better player, but Neil flies through it with single-minded focus. When they line up to shake hands after the match, Neil is only a little surprised when her grip pulls him into a fierce hug.

“Give him hell next week, Josten.”

To anyone watching or listening, her show of support banked on the rivalry. It wasn’t hard to tell that she’s talking about Andrew. But there was a warmth and amusement in her eyes that told Neil she didn’t believe the hype and it settled him. He returned her grin and tightened his grip on her arm before letting go.

“With pleasure, Dermott.”

St. Louis and Miami were far enough away that there was no question of whether the Furies would be flying or driving. Neil snapped a picture of the runway from his window seat and sent it to Andrew as they waited for the rest of the plane to finish boarding.

-On my way-

It didn’t take long for the goalie to respond with a curt -154%- and Neil found himself smiling at it before he put his phone in airplane mode and pulled up the “TRAVEL” playlist Nicky and the girls had made for him his Junior year. (Directly below that was a playlist labelled “Neil’s pop culture education” and below that one labelled “Junkie” that consisted solely of songs about obsession created by Andrew.) Neil certainly didn’t have the fear of heights that Andrew did, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed being stuck in a metal tube hurdling through the air. Luckily it wasn’t that long of a flight and his teammates were just as eager to talk Exy when they got bored as he was, so it wasn’t too bad overall.

When they landed in Miami, Neil was hit with two things; the roar of a crowd and a wave of humidity. Even in early October the heat was suffocating. Neil found it amusing for a moment that Andrew had been willing to put up with it just for the sake of denying Kevin’s campaign to get him to sign to Chicago with him. It was just absurd enough to be perfectly, quintessentially Andrew that Neil found himself smiling. Despite his discomfort, the soft grin remained as the team was shuffled through the crowds by their security team.

Stepping into Miami’s inner court had a similar effect. The Marauders’ maroon and sky-blue color scheme coupled with their pirate mascot lead to a very other-worldly feel to their court. It exhilarated Neil to feel like he was encroaching on the territory of some long-lost pirate king, to know that he’d be facing down Andrew when the doors locked and the buzzer sounded. It bolstered the blood pumping through his veins and the lazy grin that liked to take residence on his face on game-days.

“Now there’s the Neil Josten the world knows!”

Martin crooned, ruffling Neil’s hair and bouncing off of him to swat playfully at the rest of the team before taking up his proper spot in line.

“Ah, yes, the true Fury. Honestly, with someone like Josten around, why do we even have a mascot?”

Nila joked, her own face lit up with a fierce grin.

The Furies were hardly the Foxes, but regardless of their pasts, they banded together over the thrill of dominating on the court, of struggling for every win and fighting tooth-and-nail against every loss. They were a team of passion and adrenaline. Sometimes that meant they made mistakes or pushed themselves or their opponents too hard, but they never regretted it. Neil, never regretted it.

“All right team, listen up!” Their coach called, shouting to be heard over the crowd just outside of the tunnel and the announcer making his way through the Marauders’ line-up.

“You’ve been working hard all week and all season. I know there are some other external factors pushing you to be your best for this game,” His gaze dragged over Neil for just a moment. “and while I’m glad it’s pulled some of your heads out of your asses, don’t let it make you sloppy. This may be a pirate court, but ships burn and flags fall to even the slightest miscalculation. Now let’s show those Marauders who’s boss!”

And with that warning and pep-talk all wrapped up into one, the Furies turned their attention to the court and stepped into the roaring wave of supporters and enemies alike.

Neil had warned his fellow strikers in the practices leading up to the game of Andrew’s unpredictability. “He’ll try to shut me out completely, but there’s no telling if he’ll put the effort in against anyone else.” He half-explained. “We need to put as many points on the board as possible before that happens.”

The Marauders liked using Andrew as a last line of defense, throwing him on in the second half. Even a bored Andrew had the potential to make better saves than any other goalie, plus it gave him time to watch how the other team’s strikers played. Thankfully, the Furies typically played Neil at the start and end of the games. Unlike the Foxes, they had more than enough people to switch people out in a quarterly fashion rather than waiting until a substitute was actually necessary. It allowed him to play hard and start the team off on the right foot and then rest before giving it his all to clinch a win, or at least drag the score closer to even. This meant that Neil and Andrew didn’t share the court until part-way through the second half.

He heard the crowd roaring, a chorus of cheers and boos, as he stepped into the court and clacked sticks with the striker he was replacing. However, he only had eyes for Andrew. The goalie had been casually resetting from the goal his strikers had just scored, but his stance shifted when he caught Neil’s gaze. Though it was nearly impossible to see from halfway across the court, Neil grinned. What was clearly visible, however, was the mocking two-finger salute he gave Andrew before taking his starting spot on the half-line. For the first time all game, when the buzzer sounded Minyard looked tensed to protect his goal.

The Furies’ plan to rack up as many points as possible before Neil and Andrew faced off went about as well as possible considering that they still had the whole rest of the team of professional players to deal with in that time. Andrew didn’t put up much of a fight against Neil’s fellow strikers, but he didn’t just stand there disinterested either. They had a two-point lead when Neil came on and he would be damned if he let that slip.

The Marauder’s backline, newly replenished, had apparently made it their goal to keep Neil from even getting near the goal. Their efforts would have been admirable if their rivalry had any actual substance to it, but even just the fact that Neil knew their persistence and borderline fouls bothered Andrew more than it bothered him gave him extra strength to push through. In the end, their efforts were futile. He was too quick, too resigned to the possibility of injury and too determined to make his shots to be stopped by something as mundane as solidarity.

Andrew, it seemed, didn’t appreciate this either.

The first shot Neil took on him, ricocheted all the way to the far court wall.

Even inside their plexiglass box, the scream of the crowd at that power move and Andrew’s return salute was deafening. Neil bared his teeth and kept going.

His second, third and fourth attempts were similarly thwarted, though the last time, Andrew had the audacity to slam it back at him fact and hard enough that Neil stumbled back several steps in order to retain possession long enough to pass it back to his dealer. It was a warning and a challenge all in one. Neil couldn’t out-power Andrew like he had the backliners, not when Andrew knew him so well. He had to play smarter.

A thrill ran through him, even as the Furies lost possession and their goal lit up red. By the time they’d moved into position to restart play, Neil had already planned out his next goal, the possibilities stretching out before him like a hundred different threads of light – all leading to the wall behind Andrew’s back. He turned to look at his fellow striker, inclining his head once he had Beckett’s attention. The man grinned back and let out a whoop as the buzzer sounded.

Neil, who typically sprinted at the start of play, hesitated for just a moment. Nila had possession of the ball to start the game and Beckett was the obvious choice to pass to given their positions. She didn’t waste time throwing a quizzical look in Neil’s direction, but everyone knew his main strength was his speed. Likewise, he kept his focus on the backliner charging towards him and counted to three in his head before finally taking off. For a moment, it looked like he would hit the man head-on, but then he swerved, changing his course so that he was on the opposite side of the course. Beckett passed him the ball high off of the wall and then juked out of the way of his own backliner’s attempt to check him. Neil knew they only had a few moments to plan his best route before both of the backliners would converge on him.

He wasn’t in the ideal position and ten steps wouldn’t be enough to get there, so he shot the ball back to Beckett, diverting the woman who was supposed to be Neil’s mark to guard him. Their brief encounter provided him with the time he needed to get around his own new mark. He whistled and kept moving towards the back wall, picking up speed so that his backliner had to sprint to keep up. Finally, Beckett found the opening and shot the ball back to him with impressive accuracy.

When it found its way into Neil’s waiting net, the backliner was almost upon him, but it was too late. The back wall loomed up in front of him and Andrew had shifted to place himself between Neil and the goal. It was possible that he’d pass it back to Beckett or Nila, but both were tied up with their own defensemen and Andrew could smell a shot like a shark drawn to blood. Four steps and he’d be even with Andrew, six and he’d hit the wall. His backliner breathed down his neck, ready to turn that six into three. Instead of dodging, however, Neil pushed himself harder and launched himself at the wall just before his mark could shove him into it. His right foot propelled him off of the ground and his left reversed his momentum from the wall back toward the court. He twisted his torso and passed to himself off of the wall, catching it just after clearing his backliner’s hunched form.

The first step stumbled.

The second secured.

The third pivoted.

The fourth provided enough torque for a backhand shot right into the unprotected center of Andrew’s goal.

Neil didn’t know what was more deafening, the utter silence from the players and crowd as the goal lit up red, or the roar of disbelief as the buzzer sounded half a second too late and everyone went wild.

He did know, however, that the momentum from his trick shot him forward so that he tumbled head over heels to lay flat on his back in the mayhem. He grinned up at the ceiling as everyone around him freaked out. Intellectually, he knew he should get up before that freak-out turned from excitement to dread at a possible injury, but for now he was content to lay there and absorb the moment.

Beckett reached him first.

“You know,” He said, towering over him like a friendly shadow giant against the bright lights of the stadium. “I thought you were absolutely nuts when you first started adding all of those jumps and gymnastics to your circuit. But if that’s what comes out of it, then damn, sign me up.”

Neil’s grin widened and he accepted Beckett’s hand up. Once his pads were straightened out, he turned back towards the goal.

Andrew stood there like a statue, immoveable, immutable, invincible. Except Neil had just scored on him. The goalie wore his disdain plainly on his face and Neil knew, short of another crazy stunt or miracle, it was the last goal their team would make that night. But it was worth it. Worth it for the thrill, the point, the so-called rivalry. It was worth it for the way Andrew stood on an Exy court and felt – even if his feelings had more to do with his annoyance for Neil than the actual game.

This time, when Neil smiled, it was small and private. And even though there was no way for Andrew to see it, he huffed and called out after him in Russian.

“Idiot.”

“How much money do you think I just won Allison?”

Neil replied cheekily.

The rest of the players froze for a moment, given that Andrew very rarely said anything to anyone on the court – especially not to the other team, but when Neil walked calmly away, they followed suit.

True to his prediction, Andrew locked down the goal for the rest of the game, regardless of who was shooting at him. Despite this, Neil put his best effort in. He used the time more to irritate Andrew with trick shots that made him work for it or aiming at the top of the goalie’s helmet or his left foot. He’d probably pay for it later on, but it was worth it for the fire he saw in Andrew’s eyes each time.

The Furies won 7-6.

No matter how they tried to play things, the Furies knew there was no escaping Neil doing press duty for the game. It was too exciting of a game and his reported rivalry with Andrew was too high-profile for anyone in the room to let it go. So rather than waste other players’ time fielding questions that weren’t actually for them, Coach threw Neil out after their showers alongside the team’s captain with a strict warning not to start anything.

He knew how futile it would have been to demand he remain completely civil.

“Raymond! That was one hell of a game. How do you feel about the Furies’ chance for the National Cup this year?”

Neil’s captain grinned.

“Honestly, Julia, I think the team really showed themselves tonight. We were up against a tough opponent on their home court, but still managed to come out on top. We couldn’t have done that without relying on each other and staying sharp. I think tonight’s game is a good indicator of the season the Furies are looking forward to.”

Predictably, the actual Exy questions ran out long before their time with the press did. Neil wanted to look at his watch to gauge how long they’d managed to stay on topic, but he kept his attention on the reporter as they inevitably brought up Andrew.

“Neil, how did tonight’s game feel for you? That was one hell of a goal in the second half, but it had to have been frustrating to be shut out the rest of the game.”

“We came into this game expecting a hard fight. If the goalie wanted to add a little personal challenge to it, then that’s his prerogative. It wasn’t a perfect game, but the way I see it, we won. I’m more than happy with the results.”

“Speaking of personal challenge, both you and Minyard have been incredibly vague about this growing rivalry, but after tonight, it doesn’t seem like it’s likely to die down anytime soon.”

“Is there a question in there?”

The Furies’ captain admonished. The reporter inclined their head and rephrased their point, still directing it at Neil.

“If you could, perhaps, shed a little light on how, exactly this rivalry came to be or why you both seem intent on letting it continue?”

Neil shrugged.

“Andrew hates me. Always has. As for me, well, I guess my survival instincts aren’t as good as they used to be.”

He grinned sharply into the camera, too smug to resemble his father.

“Now, are there any more questions actually relevant to tonight’s game? I did just spend two hours running around and the hotel we’re staying at has a Jacuzzi.”

Beside him, his captain muttered a quiet “thank god” when no one responded and he was able to wrap things up with a quick goodbye before herding Neil as far away from the microphones as possible. Neil found it funny that he thought they’d gotten off lightly.

While he hadn’t lied about being tired, or the hotel room having a nice tub, Neil did not return to it when he begged off celebrating with the team early on. Instead, he typed a familiar address into his GPS and drove 20 minutes to a more suburban area, pulling his crossover into the open garage of a nondescript grey house. Beside it, long cooled, resided a black Maserati.

“Took your time.”

Said the figure lurking in the doorway into the house, clad completely in black. Neil looked up from the car to meet Andrew’s hazel eyes. He shrugged.

“Some of us actually make an effort to bond with our team.”

“Well if you’d rather do that, then don’t let me get in your way.”

Andrew’s comment was snide, but his tone level. Still, Neil rolled his eyes and walked around his car to the steps in front of Andrew.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Pity.”

Andrew replied, acknowledging his current height advantage only with a sweep of his eyes. After a moment, he pushed off of the door jamb and turned to go back inside.

“I’m not kissing you in the garage.”

He called back, leaving Neil to shut the outer door and follow him hastily inside.

“You were great tonight, you know.” He yelled in after the blonde. The thud of the freezer door told him Andrew was in the kitchen.

“I’m certainly not touching you if you’re going to talk about Exy the whole time.”

Neil grinned, watching shamelessly as Andrew stood from returning his ice-cream to the freezer. He waited until he had the blonde’s full attention before he stepped up into his space, his eyes glittering with playful question.

“Then why don’t you shut me up?”

Andrew rolled his eyes, but the kiss he pulled Neil into betrayed him and Neil sank into it.

#aftg #tfc #neil josten #Andrew MinyarD #andriel #the rivalry #a whole slew of oc professional exy players bc neil deserves good things and supportive people in his life #in which I try to write #idk if there will be more in this au #this is all i have so far tho #jk #there's a part 3 now

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talkfastromance4 · 6 years

Text

Earthshine [2]

Part one is here

Playlist is here

When tour was finally over you were able to see Ashton after the longest nine months. Unfortunately you wouldn’t be able to see each other until you met him at the carpet for the awards show. He told you what his outfit would be and you made sure the dress you bought would match his accordingly.

The dress you chose was a long sleeved black sequined dress that stopped at mid-thigh with a peek-a-boo back. This was the first time you’d be seeing your boyfriend in so long you wanted to make sure you looked amazing so you got your hair and nails done in the early morning. You followed a make-up tutorial to a T on YouTube and turned your body every which way in floor length mirror. You didn’t want a hair out of place or smudged mascara anywhere.

After the thousandth time twirling in front of the mirror, you got a text that the car taking you to the awards arrived at your hotel. With one final look you snatch your sequined clutch and rushed out the door. The view to the carpet was spectacular since you’ve never been to Australia but the pretty sights didn’t alter the bundle of nerves in your belly.

Not only would this be the first time you’re seeing Ashton, it would also be the first appearance you’d be making as a couple. With the whole fandom watching. With photographers snapping your photo any chance they got.

“Here we are miss,” the driver says rolling to a stop at the end of the carpet. “Ashton said someone is out there waiting for you and will take you where you need to be.”

“Perfect, thank you,” you smile at him in the rear view mirror. With a deep breath you open the door and exit the vehicle, making sure your legs were crossed (you’d seen magazine articles of sneaky peep shots).

“Y/n?” a short woman with dark hair asks holding two phones in her hand.

“Yes?”

“Follow me, I’m Anya and I’ll be taking you to the checkpoint where you’ll meet Ashton and the others,” she says already spinning in her heels and walking away.

You skip a little to keep up with her and nearly bump into her when she suddenly stops near an ARIA’s backdrop next to some plants.

“I just got notified that the guys just arrived. He’ll meet you here in no less than ten minutes, they need to do photos and small interviews beforehand,” Anya explains.

“Okay. Thank you,” you smile meekly at her before she leaves you all alone next to the plants.

You try to relax your breathing as you take in the controlled chaos all around you and tried not to hyperventilate as celebrities walked past you. Checking your phone you saw it’s been nearly eight minutes and when you glance up you see a familiar face. Your breath gets caught in your throat as Ashton finishes speaking with a reporter and he’s right there looking sensational in all black with a shimmery suit coat. Your dress matched him perfectly.

You roll your lips into your mouth shaking your leg to prevent yourself from darting over to him and leaping into his arms. You watch as he steps back to let Luke talk next when he looks over in your direction and it’s like the world stops. Just like when you first met nearly ten months ago the stars aligned and you felt a wave of peace wash over you as you locked eyes with Ashton.

To your surprise he leaves the boys and reporter and is in front of you in mere seconds, his large hands cupping your face. The familiar warmth and body shave rolled over you and all you felt was happiness as you both stared at each other.

“You’re here, you’re really here,” he murmurs stroking your cheek. Then his hands are removed from your face and instead wrapped around your lower back as he lifts you into a spinning hug.

You squeal in his ear but hug him back with as much enthusiasm and soon you’re both laughing, not even realizing the flashes going off at your small reunion. The butterflies are still in your stomach but you feel whole again with Ashton there. He sets you back on your feet and lets out a deep sigh, his brows pulling together.

“I really want to kiss you,” he confesses caressing your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“I won’t stop you,” you shake your head.

“Even in front of all these people?”

“You’re the only one that matters to me.”

He flashes a smile before connecting his lips to yours and you feel as if your body is filled with air. Your hand plays with his hair at the base of his neck while his hold tightens on your waist. To your dismay he breaks the kiss quickly but then you remember you’re in front of people. People with cameras nonetheless.

The rest of the evening is spent with cheek kisses, hand holding, knuckle kisses from Ashton and finding any excuse to be in physical contact. The boys ended up winning three of the four of their nominations and you cheered as loud as you could each time.

Walking back to your hotel room hand in hand and Ashton’s jacket slung around your shoulders, he breaks the comfortable silence.

“I’m so grateful that you’re here, angel,” he says.

“I am too,” you smile at him pulling your room card out of your purse.

“Honestly, if we didn’t win anything tonight I feel like I have the best prize in the whole world because you’re here with me.”

You feel your cheeks redden as you open the door. You release his hand leaning against the open door and gaze up at him.

“Oh yeah? Would you like to unwrap your prize?” you step back into the room biting your lip.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he groans.

His jacket is soon on the floor with the rest of your clothes following suit. The waning gibbous moon shone through the crack of the curtains as Ashton showed you just how much gratitude he had.

•○•○•

After months and months of planning, the 10 year anniversary party of the magazine you work for has arrived. Since you became Senior Assistant to the editor the job to plan the party fell into your hands. You spent odd hours at the office planning and planning. From the venue all the way to the design on the napkins, it was your responsibility.

It was taking up so much of your time that you fell asleep during a wonderful dinner that Ashton made for you one night.

But now the party is here and Ashton of course accompanied you on your big night. He was completely astounded at how perfect you made everything look and he even felt a little smug when he overheard your coworkers gushing about the whole festivity.

You were beaming the whole night and Ashton was so proud to see you succeed in your element until a man approached you with two drinks in hand. You took the champagne flute graciously. Ashton decided to cut in when he noticed the bloke rubbed your back a little too affectionately.

“There you are love,” Ashton greets and presses a kiss to your forehead before slinging his arm around your shoulders protectively. He eyes up the bloke in front of you who’s about a head shorter than Ashton and has his dark hair slicked back.

“Oh, Ashton this is my assistant—“ it still floored you that you had your own assistant—“Clay Watkins. He helped me with planning.”

“I did no such thing, this was all you,” Clay beams. “I just made sure your notes and payments were organized.”

“Which helped me a ton!” you protest.

“She’s so modest,” Clay grins looking at Ashton.

“I know she is,” he responds a little too coldly. You throw Ashton a look.

For the rest of the evening Ashton was a little too quiet for your liking and you noticed the hard glare he gave Clay whenever he approached you or spoke to you. This wasn’t the time or the place to discuss his jealous tendencies—that you had no idea he possessed—so you tried to keep your attitude light. Even though his behavior was driving you nuts.

“Why were you acting weird tonight?” you finally ask as you set your purse down on the kitchen counter back at the house.

“I don’t like that Clay guy,” Ashton shakes his head, “he was always touching you and trying to tell me things about you. As if I didn’t already know.”

“He’s my assistant, Ash. We spent a lot of time together because of this party.”

“Yeah, working until well past midnight most nights,” he mumbles peeling off his suit jacket.

Your mouth is agape at what his words were insinuating. “You honestly think I would cheat on you?” You can’t believe this. Where was this insecurity coming from?

“No, of course—“

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Babe, I do trust—“

“Clay is my coworker, nothing will ever happen because I love you. But it’s not like I don’t have to deal with girls flaunting themselves at you while you’re halfway around the world,” you scoff and cross your arms.

“That’s different, I don’t work with them.”

“How does that make a difference? And it’s not just out in public, I’ve seen the comments and how other celebrities send you messages on Instagram but I trust you and our relationship. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt me any less.” You swipe away a stray tear that betrayed you in your growing anger and frustration. Ashton has nothing to say, he just looks at his feet.

“I’m tired and my feet hurt. I’m going to bed,” you shake your head kicking your heels off then carry them upstairs to your bedroom.

You feel Ashton’s body against yours as you lay under the covers, his hands wrap around to the front of your stomach, his mouth in the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t like seeing how Clay acts around you but I shouldn’t have acted the way that I did,” he apologizes, “my jealousy got the better of me.” His breath tickles your ear and you roll onto your back to look up at him.

“Thank you for apologizing, now you got a little taste of what I went through while you were gone,” you say meekly.

“I wish I could stop it. I’ve only got eyes for you, love.” He kisses your nose then the corner of your mouth before sealing his love for you in a kiss.

“Ditto,” you smile on his lips and you both hold each other comfortably.

The third quarter moon shines down on you, the forgiveness pushing away the earlier resentment and jealousy. Like the moon, the light of your love cast away any impending darkness.

•○•○•

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since you lost your baby.

You and Ashton were elated when the unexpected joy appeared in your lives. The thought of a little bit of you and a little bit of him had made an itty bitty baby was so surreal you couldn’t help but smile each time you touched your stomach.

Since that terrible day you moved around Ashton like a planet lost in orbit. The light in your eyes drained, the color in your cheeks paled and you barely spoke. Because if you spoke, the terrible thoughts of how it’s your fault would take over and you’d have no choice but to believe it..

Ashton tried to console you on numerous occasions, but he didn’t know exactly how to help. He couldn’t even imagine what you were going through but he never left your side. When/if you finally released your hurt and anger he would be there. If you needed a punching bag he would be there.

He hated seeing you this way. Then one night when he came home he heard Tom Waits blasting from upstairs. He found you leaning against the bed on the floor, your face was red with dried tears on your cheeks and shirt.

“Baby,” he says gently and sits next to you. He’s upset he wasn’t here to help you when you finally released your pent up pain.

Without a word, you crawl onto his lap folding yourself into his warm embrace. His arms hold onto you protectively, his touch eased some of the aching and doubt you’d been feeling the last few weeks.

“What can I do?” he asks a little helpless.

“Just hold me,” you whisper into his neck. You close your eyes and concentrate on his breathing, you can feel his pulse on your lips.

Ashton tangles his fingers through your hair and hums along to the song. You cried yourself dry you were exhausted. You wanted to release your pain on your own and completely surrender to it so you’d be one step closer to healing.

You and Ashton stayed like that until the moon rose in the darkened violet sky. Your pain and sadness waned with the crescent of the moon, the light illuminating hope.

•○•○•

The candles were lit, the flowers were displayed perfectly about the room and the violins were singing softly, the echo around the room was angelic. A quiet hum from the guests filled the warm space as they watched Ashton and his groomsmen take their place at the end of the aisle. He stood proudly and confidently even though his heart was racing in anticipation for you.

The string quartet began to play and your bridesmaids glided down the aisle. Ashton began to tap his fingers on the back of his other hand, a habit he formed from playing drums to help calm him down.

The quartet transitions into the song you’ll be walking down the aisle to and Ashton’s never been more nervous and excited in his life. You shared the same sentiments on the other side of the double doors.

The candles and flowers took your breath away as soon as the doors opened, but you only paid attention to them for a moment until you locked eyes with Ashton and the whole world stopped. The stars aligned just like the first time you met in the coffee shop four years ago.

You both beamed as you made your way to the love of your life, tears springing in your eyes as Ashton wiped his own tears with his thumbs. He looked amazing with the glow of the candles behind him, it was like your own little universe with the small flames.

After the ceremony and pictures (so many pictures) it was time for dinner and the reception. Throughout the course of the meal the glasses were clinked with knives and forks over a dozen times and each time you kissed each other happily.

“It’s time for our first dance, wife,” he grins holding his hand out to you.

The song ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ begins to play as soon as you’re pulled against his chest. Looks of love and elation passed between you two and he kept murmuring how gorgeous you look. Photos and video captured your first dance as husband and wife, but when you were in each other’s arms it was like you were the only two people in the world.

“You’re my husband,” you can’t help but giggle at the realization.

“For better or for worse, angel,” he smirks tightening his hold on your waist.

Some things are meant to be

Ashton spins you away from him, your dress twirling beautifully. The music halts for a perfect moment, then when Kina Grannis sings again

So, take my hand, take my whole life, too

He holds out his hand for you to take and he spins you right back into his chest. The crowd awed and oohed at the beautiful moment, both of you smiled before he leans down and presses his lips to yours. More cheers are heard but you keep kissing him until the song is over.

When the party was over and you kissed the last guest goodbye, you and Ashton retired to your honeymoon suite in the hotel. He looked delicious with his white shirt unbuttoned, his tie hanging loosely around his neck and his hair tousled.

Once the door snapped shut behind you, his long fingers were already undoing the buttons along your back, his lips sucking on your neck as he did so. His mouth followed his fingers and when the last button was undone, your pretty white gown billowed to the ground like a cloud. He spun you around by your thighs so you were facing him, your hands immediately brushing through his hair.

“What’s this?” he asks raising his eyebrows as he traces the written word ‘new’ below your bellybutton.

“Well, you know how I have to have something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue?”

“Yeah . . .” he nods slowly still staring at the word. You could practically see the gears in his mind trying to decipher what this means.

“Well,” you sigh, “my something new is inside me. I’ll be twelve weeks tomorrow, Ashton.”

“Are you saying you’re--?” he looks up at you with wide eyes.

“I’m pregnant,” you nod. “My doctor says I was in the clear on week eight but I wanted to make sure before I told you.”

“Woo!” He yelps excitedly and lifts you into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist and he tosses you onto the bed attaching his lips to yours greedily. You’re laughing around his mouth at his enthusiasm then he looks at you in awe. “This is the best wedding day ever.” He lowers himself down to your belly and kisses the temporary ink, his lips lingering on each letter. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Shh, I was talking to little pip,”

“Little pip?” you laugh brushing his hair from his forehead.

“Little pipsqueak,” he shrugs and kisses your belly again. Now that Ashton knows the slight roundness of your tummy seems more prominent now.

“Are you happy?”

Ashton hovers above you, his hands on either side of your face. “I am the happiest man in the world,” he gives you a hard kiss then his eyes turn dark with lust. “Now, I want to make you feel as good as I do.”

His finger slips below the white lace of your panties, you moan from his touch and the curl of his finger. Somehow through the work of his magic fingers, you push his shirt from his body and he attaches his mouth to your neck.

You make love under the new moon, you can barely see the outline but it’s a sign of new beginnings. You and Ashton have gone through many moon phases in your relationship, each one powerful and significant in its own way to bring you this very moment. Your love began with the moon and within that love you created the most perfect miracle.

With the sunshine from him and the moonlight from you, your little baby is your own earthshine. Your love will forever glow.

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