⋆𐙚₊ 𝐚 ‘𝔀𝓮’ 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧 ‘𝓾𝓼’ ˚⊹♡

─── 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐄

+ sae x f!reader | wc 4.9k | content: angst, fluff, some making out, implied sex, stupid teenager phase

notes: sobs this was not supposed to be this long … one of y’all need to stop me from writing about this man !! i love him too much, pls send help </3 extra: this is the song playing in the last scene :’)

summary: sae has few interests, and one of them is you. but sometimes, being special just isn’t enough.

you’ve always been special.

ever since age three when your family moved across the street from where the itoshis lived. ever since age five when you finally gathered the courage to talk to the pair of brothers. ever since age six when sae invited you to play with him and rin. ever since age seven when you cried because someone bullied you at the playground and sae wiped away your tears. ever since age ten when both of you played with paper rings. ever since age eleven when you and sae would talk endlessly at night through the phone and get nagged at by your parents when they found out.

ever since age twelve when you told sae you’d watch him become the best soccer player in the world by his side.

your presence bleeds into sae’s life and he can’t think about anything without relating it to you; like how his breakfast tastes like ass when you’re not smearing your stupid peanut butter on it because apparently peanut better goes well with everything is your phase at that point of time. like how he’s walking home and he’ll always have to crane his head to the right just to check if you’re on your front porch swing, because if you are, he’ll wave and then you’ll smile and wave back, and sae would feel like it’s a special code you two share.

you’re probably the only thing he pays his spare attention to. and rin. you, rin, soccer. that’s all.

you complain way too much, especially at the fact that sae doesn’t smile often. he counters, “that’s none of your business.”

and you tell him one day you’ll be the reason he smiles everyday.

sae thinks it’s kind of stupid though, because you already are. you just aren’t around to see it. he’ll probably never let you see it too. he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he did.

it isn’t long before you’re age fifteen and graduating middle school and you’re excited to start high school. it didn’t really make a difference for sae, as long as he got to play soccer, he really couldn’t care less.

when you’re age sixteen you tell sae that a boy from class broke your heart because he didn’t accept your valentines’ chocolates. it was as good as a rejection, apparently. or whatever girl code says it is.

frankly, sae’s just offended. you’ve never given him any valentines’ shit. all of a sudden some no name guy is getting it?

maybe it’s true what people say, teenage girls cry over stupid things they consider love that’s not actually love. now you’re getting his soccer jersey wet with your tears and you’re crooning on and on about how boys suck but somehow sae’s still the best.

you’re sixteen and crying on sae’s shoulder, while he’s seventeen and wishing he could torture the son of a bitch who made you cry.

this is the closest you’ve ever been, physically. your heart’s not really broken because whoever you’re crying about has never really had it. but sae doesn’t know that.

teenage girls make really stupid decisions sometimes. and other times, they making stupid passing comments, like when you say “glad i didn’t let him kiss me. would suck for my first kiss to be with a dick who didn’t give a shit about me.”

sometimes teenage boys make stupid decisions too.

sae doesn’t really know what possesses him to do this, but he doesn’t stop it. he doesn’t stop his hand from reaching out to you, doesn’t stop his fingers from tilting your chin up. there’s only confusion in your eyes when he looks into them. there’s only hesitation in his.

sae’s not anything to you except for a childhood friend, and you’re not anything to him, except for one of the most beautiful people he’s ever met. that’s why he does this slowly, so you have time to stop this.

he has no right to do this. he wishes you would just stop him.

you’re both teenagers when sae becomes your first kiss, when your tears stain his cheeks and he tastes like the fruits he just ate. you’re both delirious off of the feeling, like neither of you want this to end because your lips stay connected even when you’re not moving, and your lashes are fluttering against one another’s and sae really wants to kiss you again.

but it’s late and your parents are probably the ones knocking on his door right now so he stops himself and pulls away while rin bounds down the stairs to open the door.

sae sees nothing but you, you and your pretty face and your pretty lips and your perfect perfect person.

“there, now your first kiss is with a dick who does care about you.”

it’s that same summer and you’ve forgotten all about the stupid boy that supposedly broke your heart. you have sae with you whenever he’s free, when he decides to bring you out after practice and explore rooftops to find the best view for the fireworks.

you’re not together, but it sure feels like you are.

then it’s autumn and the leaves are turning orange and red, and you swear you see sae’s cheeks and ears turn nearly the same shade when he holds your hand for the first time as you walk through the park, a white cat crossing in front of you.

sae blames it on his practice earlier and that he’s tired because there’s no way he’ll ever admit it’s because of you.

when winter comes, sae’s still taking care of you. nothing stops him from playing soccer, but nothing can stop him from finding you either. sae’s starting to regret his decisions when you force him to go ice skating and look at him expectantly whenever you see a mistletoe.

you’re a lot of work, maybe you’re worth it.

and then you kiss him again and he thinks yes, maybe he can do this. he can juggle soccer and you, it’ll magically work out.

finally it’s spring and you’re excited because you love the cherry blossoms, and sae thinks maybe he loves something else but he’s not going to go there yet. and while everyone’s watching the solar eclipse that one night, sae’s watching you.

for once, he wants to believe in superstitions, wants to believe what watching the solar eclipse means.

“what’s the matter?”

you’re always so perceptive. you’d make a great playmaker, he feels.

of course you pick up on the tension, barely a minute after you walk into his room. sae doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever this is, whether it’s love or something less, or maybe something more.

but it’s not a democracy, and the answer is crystal clear in sae’s mind. his answer’s always been the same, but it’s not like you don’t exist in his world.

“the club in spain gave me an offer.”

that’s all he needs to say to make you understand. and if you weren’t the most understanding person he knows, you might’ve reacted differently, but you’re still the same supportive, kind girl he met at age four.

“when do you go?” your voice is shaky and he knows you’re trying to hold it together.

sae’s sorry, really.

“next month.”

it’s not a lot of time, but probably enough to say goodbye. then you throw your arms around him and you work your magic, you say you want to try despite the distance, despite the unknown timeline. and who is sae if not someone who’d give it a try?

he’s not even sure he can ever say no to you.

it doesn’t seem real until the night before he leaves, because you’re eighteen and standing in his near barren room, everything already packed into boxes and loaded.

maybe it’s the fact he’ll be gone for a very long time, doesn’t know when he’ll see you again. maybe it’s the adrenaline rushing through his veins when he feels you pressed up against him. maybe it’s the fact he’s denying the depth of his feelings for you and it’s getting him frustrated.

or maybe it’s because he’s selfish and he doesn’t want anyone else to have you, just like how he gave you your first kiss.

he’s your first kiss, and he’ll be your first time, with your hands clawing at his clothes. and you’ll be his, with the way he’s grabbing onto your bare back so desperately.

you’re eighteen and you think nothing’s prettier than the sounds sae makes, especially when his lips are right next to your ear, with his hot breath fanning against you.

sae’s nineteen and he thinks you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted, in all sense of the word. he thinks you look pretty in pink, still pretty when you wear nothing too.

and suddenly sae thinks that maybe it doesn’t feel so crazy to think that the both of you might make it through this.

long distance can work for some people. but sometimes it’s just meant to drive two people further away.

sae’s gaining momentum in europe, and you’re proud of him. you’re proud of your boyfriend, doing his best and showing off his talents and having his hard work pay off.

you’re really, genuinely happy for him. but the bigger of a star he is, the further away he feels, and maybe it’s selfish of you to want him here, to want him to be just your neighbour itoshi sae like how things started out.

maybe it’s selfish and wishful thinking, but you can’t help yourself.

sometimes sae doesn’t even have time to look at his phone. he’s tired and overwhelmed and understandably too. and you feel guilty everytime you subject him to your insecurities.

but you’re nineteen and you don’t know better.

rin’s not much fun to hang around with, especially when he got more stoic and awkward. he’s like a mirror of his brother, and that may fool a lot of people, except you knew him before that. but you’re not going to butt your head in things that don’t concern you, so you leave him be.

and suddenly the itoshis seem further away than they’ve ever been. for the first time in your life, you’re not sure if trying will be enough anymore.

sae misses you. that’s whenever he has the free time to think, when he’s not hounded by trainings after trainings, when he’s not busy from day to night with whatever new training regime they’ve got him on.

is he aware that he’s probably being the world’s worst boyfriend now? yes. but sae can’t force himself to choose that over his dreams. can’t force himself not to choose soccer.

[17:08] she’s fine, idk what you’re worried about.

rin’s message doesn’t alleviate his worries. sae knows you better than anyone, and he doesn’t believe you’re fine.

[08:08] hey sae :)

[17:34] going to bed now, gn!! &lt;3

sae stares at your message for a while in the locker room, while everyone else is showering. you’ve cooled off on the pet names, you’re worried you’re overstepping. you’re worried he’s lost his feelings.

he’s not.

he’d be crazy to.

but he can’t find the energy to convince himself that this would turn out fine. he can’t convince himself that he’s not hurting you every single day by not being able to be everything you need, by not being able to be physically there for you.

this half-assed relationship isn’t what you deserve. and where he is right now, with his bird’s eye view of the world, he doesn’t know if he can ever give you anything else.

[17:49] goodnight. call you tomorrow.

the moment sae breaks up with you, you feel like that kid at sixteen all over again, except this time you don’t have your favourite person’s shoulder to cry on and this time it’s actually love.

all you can think of when you hear him pick up the phone is that morning right before he left for the airport, how his hair’s a mess and how his lashes are way too pretty and how he sounded when he’s all groggy and tired.

but then he tells you the one thing you do not want to hear, and the illusion is shattered into pieces.

“this isn’t working out.”

“what are you talking about?” he’s silent, and you’re anxious. “we’re fine, sae.”

you can hear him sighing over the phone. you so desperately want to fix this, and so does sae but he can’t think of anything more selfish than to ask you to wait for him until he’s ready—he knows what’s the right thing to do. it sucks, but he’s made up his mind.

“that’s bullshit, y/n,” he responds, calmly, and you feel him slipping further and further from you.

“i- look, i-i know it’s hard but we can—”

“give it a break, woman,” sae chuckles, low and deep, and you’re beginning to doubt that you know him at all right now. “we’re done.”

the dial tone is all you can hear after that.

twenty years old is where you have your first actual heartbreak.

and all that talk about how time heals all feels like bullshit when you’re right in the middle of it all. five days in and you’re still a wreck. twenty days later and you’re still staring at the pictures you and sae took together. a month passes and you’re visiting the places you went to together. just a sad, pathetic girl crying on the benches, reliving what she once had.

three months later you’re still watching his matches on tv. you’re still cheering for him inside. four months later and it’s sae’s birthday and he doesn’t even respond to your birthday message. half a year after the breakup and you finally stop crying when you think of him.

but it’s easy to delude yourself when you’re not in the presence of what you grieve. because eight months after you broke up, you see reports that sae’s dating a sports photographer. the next few days, a picture is released of them kissing in a restaurant.

then you get glimpses of other girls being able to be intimate with him. other girls getting to taste his lips and feel his love. other girls getting his attention when that right used to solely belong to you.

and you’ve never felt worse.

“why so glum?”

sae blinks at the woman, indifferent. he can’t even remember her name.

“nadia,” she says, like she’s reading his goddamn mind, holding her hand out. “i’ve been your team’s photographer for a few months now.”

sae shakes her hand out of courtesy because he really doesn’t want his publicist to chew him out again. “didn’t ask.”

“you know, you’re a lot more crabby these days,” she comments, and it’s like he can see the lightbulb going off in her head. “oh, is it girlfriend issues?”

“i don’t have one, so shut it.”

“come on, i promise i’m good at making people forget.” she says this so seductively that sae’s a little disturbed. he just wants to get this shoot done with and go home, maybe even check up on you a little. all in incognito mode, of course, because he can’t risk you knowing he still cares. can’t risk getting your hopes up.

somehow the stars have spent all their time aligning sae’s soccer career and everything else is in tatters because his publicist forces him to take nadia up on her offer and go out with her.

what was supposed to be a one time thing turned out to be something more. she wasn’t even close to you, but she could be close. turns out when he’s not being such a dick, nadia can be moderately interesting.

different, maybe that’s what he needs.

he thinks back to when she kissed him on their first date. sae still finds himself hoping you didn’t see that.

but no, he’s not in love with you anymore. sae’s officially an adult at twenty-one and he’s still the same stubborn guy in denial because he’s looking at pictures of you while nadia’s sitting right next to him.

it’s not healthy, it really isn’t.

you’re twenty-one now and you’re actually going on a date with the sole intention of trying to get over the one and only itoshi sae.

can you even trust your friend? all you know is that the guy is a friend of a best friend’s and that’s all she told you.

“my best friend’s a good guy, so by extension, so is his best friend,” was all she said.

now you’re here, at the amusement park, waiting for your date to show himself because apparently, in your friend’s bid for suspense, she was reluctant to share anything about him except that he’s dreamy and pretty and that his friend describes him as a genius.

and also “oh, he’s a soccer player too so that’s right up your alley, right?”

when the call from date guy comes in (because to stop you from profiling your date she also didn’t give you his name), you kind of like his voice.

“hey, where are you?”

you find out his name is nagi. and that he’s only here because reo stole his switch and he won’t give it back until the date’s over. which kind of works because you tell him you’re only here because you wanted to get over someone.

to which he says it’s a hassle.

there’s nothing you expect out of this, but then you find yourself enjoying your date.

it’s clear by the first fifteen minutes why nagi chose this place to meet. he’s absurdly good at games. he’s won you tons of plushies that you had to give away to some very happy kids. it’s a pattern; every game that he doesn’t know, he only loses once and then he proceeds to dominate.

no wonder his friend calls him a genius.

with nagi it’s easy, fluid. you’ve been spending the whole night there with him, playing together and eating together—well, mostly it’s just you feeding nagi because it turns out he finds a lot of things a hassle.

three days later, you find out that apparently you’re not a hassle in his books. not really, because he asks you out again.

it’s irrational.

sae shouldn’t be this bothered, but he is. he hates seeing your stupid updates about how you’re on a date with this nagi guy. he hates seeing your posts with the two of you wearing matching sweaters for christmas.

he gives it a like.

nadia’s already gone. sae doesn’t have time or energy to waste on people that don’t matter. and you shouldn’t matter. not right now. but here he is, wishing the circumstances were different.

if you and nadia switched places. if you had something to bring you to spain. it’s fucking selfish, he knows. doesn’t stop him from wishing for it. he can’t think of anyone else like how he thinks of you. doesn’t want to.

he really is clueless about everything outside of soccer, because he’s twenty-two when he realises that no one could ever make him forget about you, and maybe he should just live with it.

sae turns twenty-three when he’s in the running for being the world’s best midfielder. he’s gotten rid of the hopes of moving on and he’ll just fake it till he makes it.

maybe that’s why this year is particularly special to him. or maybe it’s because for the first time in a long while, you wish him happy birthday.

at midnight, in japan. because you’re thoughtful that way.

this time he responds.

thanks. how r u?

it’s criminal how easy it is for you to get his heart beating like this. he sees you typing and it’s enough to lift his mood.

great, school’s kicking my ass though.

sae finds himself wishing that he could hear your voice right now. for some stupidly non-complex reason that he finds completely absurd.

i saw your match last week, good game, genius.

fuck. after all this time, he still wants you.

his fingers type i miss you, just for the hell of it. just to see it there on his screen before he inevitably deletes it and replaces it with something mediocre like thanks or i know.

because he can’t just say that after being the one who broke things off. he can’t do that when he still thinks it won’t work out.

all he does is sigh and hit the delete button—except fuck, he accidentally hit send. and he would’ve deleted it if you weren’t already online and read it and he sees you typing for a moment before you stop completely and go offline.

sae has never felt more numb.

it’s been three months since sae said he missed you. you still can’t get that out of your head. the most upfront he’s been about his feelings and he chooses then of all times to be honest?

when your boyfriend was right beside you?

maybe it was your fault. you didn’t even know why you wished him a happy birthday. maybe you missed him too and was just lying to yourself.

god, maybe you’re the asshole in this after all. did you really love nagi? or was he just exceptionally well at making you forget? you really really like him, that’s all you know.

“hey, what’s wrong?” nagi’s looking at you, pushing his hair back, and you can’t help but think you’re lucky to have him these past few months.

but the turmoil inside you wins, and maybe you understand a little bit of how sae felt that night when he broke up with you.

it’s not fair to nagi for you to do this, but it’s not fair to him either to keep him around.

“we need to talk.”

it’s a surreal feeling, to be back in japan.

sae was nineteen when he left. now he’s twenty-seven when he breathes the tokyo air again. he lugs around his carry-on baggage because he’s not staying here for long. not yet. he’s coming back soon, and he doesn’t really know why. he’s milked everything he could from spain, from the rest of europe, some of the americas, and maybe he’s homesick now.

plain and simple.

the cab driver asks him why he looks so sharp, and he simply says, “wedding.”

it’s been seven years since he broke up with you. and your grip on him is as firm as ever. a grip he’ll never let you know you have on him because he’s made this mistake before—said i miss you and then scared you away.

by the next day he couldn’t even find you online because everything is wiped and maybe you hate him, hate his guts. that’s fine. he can live with that.

to him, you’re still the same lovable person as you were at age five. still the same girl at age sixteen that he fell in love with. you’re still his person and it’s fine if he has to just admire you from afar.

when he arrives, he takes a long hard look around the room, filled with guests socialising and drinking their wines and it’s so pathetic but he’s wondering if you’re still around. he’s late, and it’s his plane’s fault but it’s no use playing the blame game.

“hey,” rin calls out when he sees his brother. “you missed the ceremony.”

“yeah, stupid plane got delayed,” sae says, mind still distracted.

rin formally introduces his new wife to sae and she seems nice, polite, the kind that can put his brother in his place if she needs to. that’s nice. sae can’t help envisioning you in the wedding dress though. you’d look nice.

nicer if he was the one beside you.

“oh! as a gift to my now brother-in-law, i have a friend i want to set you up with,” she grins, and as much of an ass that sae is, he just figures he’ll reject the poor girl later. for now, he’ll entertain his new sister-in-law.

rin claps him on the shoulder before smirking and walking off, presumably to get a drink because no matter how much rin has changed, sae doubts he’ll ever become friendly enough to mingle in this crowd.

sae feels someone poking his shoulder and turns around, first to find his sister-in-law grinning from ear to ear, and next to find you next to her, just like he remembers.

pretty in pink, stupid bashful smile, still fucking beautiful.

“have fun,” rin’s wife says before she walks off with a knowing look. she’s already winning points with sae for bringing you to him.

“hey, genius,” you try to suppress your smile but it’s not working.

he thinks he’s dreaming. he’s not. he’s here. and so are you. and this might just be what he missed all this time.

you hold your hand out and he takes it wordlessly, obediently. sae follows you to the dance floor, trying to calm his erratic heartbeats, savouring the feeling of your hand in his once again, remembering that moment back in autumn when he first felt it.

when you wrap your hands around his neck and he wraps his around your waist, it feels like finally, something is real. like there’s something in this country that can really keep him here this time. because now he’s twenty-seven and he finally understands, he’s always loved you but he’s never been ready until now.

“can’t believe you let your brother get married before you,” you say, sarcasm because you’re breaking into a grin. “he actually beat you at something.”

sae pouts slightly, averting his gaze. “what’s the big deal anyway?”

you shrug. “i’d have thought you’d be the first. maybe with one of the girls you met abroad or something.”

there’s a certain bitterness in your tone that he likes, only because it means you minded all this time. the thought of him with someone else. he suddenly remembers something, and searches the room for a familiar face.

gray eyes meet his teal ones before they turn away, disinterested.

“you sure your boyfriend won’t mind you dancing with your ex?”

“probably not, since i don’t have one.” you smirk, sensing the bitterness in his tone too. it’s funny, seeing sae jealous like this.

he has no reason to though, since you broke up with nagi after being honest with yourself—that you’re not over sae and you probably never will be. you’d decided to just live with your decision.

“shame. thought you guys looked cute in those matching sweaters.”

so that was a jealous like, you think to yourself.

“thought you looked cute with that sports photographer girl too, kissing and all,” you say, though it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “why didn’t that work out?”

for the first time in his life, sae decides to be outright honest with you—

“because she’s not you.” because everytime she said his name, he’d overlay it with your voice in his head. because everytime she’d tried to get close, he’d resent her more for not being you. because no matter how hard anyone tries, they will never be you and that will never work, not for sae.

—to a certain degree.

he’s twenty-seven when he’s finally old enough to understand that it was never a problem with feelings because he’s always loved you all the same all this time. it was just a matter of being ready at the right time. it’s like luck in the world of soccer, where coincidences can only fall to those who are prepared.

and he’s here now. he’s ready.

call him crazy for thinking you’re on the same page because you’re getting closer and closer and closer.

“itoshi sae,” you whisper his name against his lips and he’s reminded of the first time he had you. you drive him crazy and he thinks he’ll keep on letting you. “i missed you too.”

you did. you used to be too young and inexperienced to put yourself in sae’s shoes. too young and naive thinking emotions were enough for two people to stay. sometimes, some things just aren’t meant to be… in the moment. and other times, when you’re both ready, everything suddenly falls into place.

you were sixteen when sae first kissed you. now ten years later, ten years wiser, you kiss again, and this feels significantly better than before. because now you both know.

sae has known you ever since you were three. and he thinks he’ll keep on knowing you, every day, every hour, every minute. he wants to know you forever. and he’s thinking maybe that superstition worked out after all. maybe it was destined to be like this all along.

two people coming together and falling apart only to end up in each other’s arms.

and he thinks fuck superstition, fuck the white cats and solar eclipses and everything else. even if things threaten not to work, this time he’ll make it work.

sae’s known you for so long he overlooked one simple thing. when he kisses you even deeper and is greeted with your lips smiling against his, he knows.

he hasn’t become the world’s best soccer player yet, but when he does, you’ll be by his side.

one day those paper rings the both of you played with when you were little would be real.

you’ve always been special, and you always will be.

now he’s finally home.

the entire party thinks we're dating

cw: 4.5k wc, female reader, sendo registers oliver on one of those rent a boyfriend for a day websites as a prank and you just so happen to need a date for another wedding you really don't want to attend on your own—

When you swing the door open, you can’t help but blink a few times at the sight before your eyes.

“Oh”, you say.

The man staring back with a lopsided smile, hands buried in the pockets of what looks like an expensive suit, raises his brows.

“Oh?”, he parrots, “thought we could start with hello, nice to meet you”.

“Sorry, it’s just…”, you tilt your head, “I get why you’re so expensive. They weren’t kidding with that description”.

When you leave the door open and waltz back into the living room, Oliver takes it as an invitation to come in.

“Can you remind me what that description said?”, the sound of the door being softly pushed closed echoes in the silent room while you’re busy checking yourself out in the mirror above the couch.

“Friendly, tall, incredibly charming, devastatingly handsome. Something like that”.

He smirks, catching your gaze in the mirror.

“And you just validated all that, huh?”.

You click your tongue.

“We’ll see about the friendly, incredibly charming part”.

“Devastatingly handsome it is then, I’ll take the compliment. You look really good in that dress, by the way”.

“Don’t”, you scoff, “you’re too hot to be that much of a clichè”.

He hums, amused.

“Not too hot to tell the truth. You know, for someone so wary, it’s surprising you’d let me pick you up at your place”.

“Not her place”, Chisako’s voice startles him and you sigh, turning to the mirror once more: your hair is being exceptionally stubborn.

“Listen… what’s your name again?”, your best friend eyes him up and down, hands on her hips.

“I’m Oliver”, he replies, seemingly amused. You meet his gaze in the mirror once more.

“Listen, Oliver. You do anything to her, anything, and I’ll kill you. Won’t even go through the fuss of pressing charges, you hear me?”.

“That’s sweet”.

She narrows her gaze.

“You think I’m kidding? Hands to yourself and don’t try anything funny”.

“Hey, just a quick reminder, she rented me”.

“You, don’t talk to my friend like that”, you finally whip around, exasperated, “and you, please don’t scare my very expensive date away yet. I still need him”.

With a scoff, Chisako lightly slaps your finger away from her chest.

“Fine. Share your location and call me if you need anything. Keep your phone with you”, you soften when you read the sincere worry swarming in her eyes and smile.

“Deal. Thank you”, with a deep breath, you grab your purse and take an uncertain step back, “do I look okay?”.

“More than okay, you’re…”.

“Beautiful”.

You both look at him, skeptical.

“You don’t have to do that”.

“Do what?”, Oliver chuckles, “let me guess, you think that was also a lie”.

“Hot and smart? You really are the whole package”, with a scoff, you walk past him and toward the front door, where you slip your very pretty, very uncomfortable heels on.

Still evidently amused, he opens the door for you and offers his arm to walk you down the stairs of the old apartment complex. Chisako waits on the balcony, arms folded and resting on the black railing. You look up and she waves, making you chuckle.

When Oliver leans forward to open the car door for you, you look at him astonished.

“You came… in a porsche?”.

He grins.

“I mean, you did pay for the whole package”.

Right.

“So, we’re gonna need a story, right? Am I your boyfriend or are we just casually dating?”, the smaller space you’re now sharing is ruthless in making you notice the details you couldn’t catch in your friend’s apartment. The man starting the engine and now sitting dangerously close to you smells unfairly good and the deep rumble of his voice, low, intimate, feels as soft as velvet. It almost resembles the purr of a big cat.

“Boyfriend. We met about two months ago and only recently made it official”.

“Sounds good to me”, he briefly glances at you with a smile, “whose wedding is it, anyway?”.

You grimace.

“An old colleague. She’s never gonna buy this but we can do our best”.

“Are you doubting me or yourself right now?”.

With a snort, you gesture vaguely.

“You’re an incredibly attractive guy who drives a sports car. No one at that wedding is going to believe I could bag that”.

“It’s my job to make sure they do”, Oliver clicks his tongue, “besides, I think I’d have a much harder time charming you. I’m pretty easy to bag”.

His absolutely serious tone makes you melt into a chuckle, which he seems to appreciate. Head slightly turned, you focus on his profile for a brief moment. The bridge of his nose, full lips, long lashes. You wonder if he’s using contacts. He must be, right? There’s no way he’d be blessed with those eyes too, among everything else.

“You’re staring”, he mutters, still focused on the road. The playful lilt of his tone makes you shift in your seat.

“You’re nice to look at”.

He huffs out a sound that sounds like a chuckle, both amused and somehow coy.

“How come you ended up on that website? You don’t seem like the type who’d need to rent a man”.

You stay silent for a few seconds, looking straight ahead while lost in your own thoughts. Truth is, you’re not quite sure yourself. It’s true: you’re definitely not the type and, suddenly, the entirety of the absurd situation weighs heavy on your chest.

You’re in a car, with a man you know nothing about, heading to a wedding party where everyone will be able to call your bluff. And you spent an embarrassing amount of money for this, too.

“I think I’m about to throw up”, you murmur.

“Excuse me?”.

“I’m seriously about to throw up. Oh, no. What was I thinking?”, your hands rise to cover your face, “stop the car, please”.

“We’re on the highway”.

“But I’m about to throw-”

“Please stop talking about throwing up, the thought of someone vomiting triggers my gag reflex”, Oliver sends an alarmed glance your way but you’re refusing to meet his gaze, practically bending over in your own seat, “think of the leather seats”.

“I don’t care about your stupid leather seats!”.

“You were fine ten seconds ago-”

“Oliver”, the way you straight out whine his name all of a sudden tucks the words back into his throat, “I don’t even know you. Oh, god, what if you’re a maniac? What if you try to murder me? I’m in a car with a man I don’t know, I spent so much money only to end up dead in a ditch!”.

“Okay, listen-”

“I’m sorry, I know this is a really weird reaction but I’m freaking out big time, I never did this before-”

“Me neither!”.

Your eyes grow in size and your jaw slacks, panic overcoming your features. Oliver clears his throat.

“I mean, I never had to convince an entire audience at a wedding. My dates were always a walk in the park, an afternoon at the mall, one movie, an ice cream on the way home”, he lies so easily it almost makes him laugh. Either way, Oliver slows down and gently stops the car, parking it on the shoulder of the highway.

“Hey”, he tentatively reaches for your wrist, to gently remove one of your hands from your face, “can you look at me? You said I’m nice to look at, no?”.

“You are. Which would make you the perfect murderer”, you whisper. Still, you comply and find an incredulous smile brightening up his face.

“Jesus. Okay, listen, I promise you can trust me. I won’t hurt you. If you changed your mind I can drive you home right now, or drop you off at the venue and leave”. 

“Really?”.

“Really”.

You inhale a deep breath and relax against your seat underneath the weight of his honest, magnetic gaze.

“I’m sorry. You must think I’m insane”.

“Believe it or not, I’ve met more insane people”, he smiles.

You lower your gaze.

“It’s just… not something I would usually do. I was really tired of being always the lonely one at weddings and social gatherings, I never let the teasing get to me but I guess I started feeling”, you pause to look for the right word, “vulnerable. I don’t have to prove anything but I was just so sick of it. And this particular colleague is insufferable, she’s been with the guy ever since high school and just kept talking my ear off about true love, soulmates, all that bullshit…”, Oliver laughs and you look up from your lap.

“What?”.

“Nothing”, he raises both hands in mock protection, “keep going”.

You glare at him.

“Well, that’s the story. I was exhausted, drank an entire bottle of wine, found the website, booked the most expensive option because I really wanted to rub it in their faces. Then I almost had a panic attack about it, apparently”.

“The most expensive, huh?”, his blatant smugness makes you groan.

“You know you are the most expensive”.

He doesn’t, really. But it’s surely a pleasant learning.

“Right. Well, I’m ready to be your arm candy and piss the bride off if you’ll have me”, Oliver flashes you another smile, “you know, I’m sure she hired a good glam team but I’m willing to bet my date still looks better”.

“You’re such a flirt”, you smile and idly shake your head, “you know what? Fine. What the hell, I deserve a few hours with a hot dude who says I look pretty. Let’s go piss the bride off”.

He starts the engine again with a pleased hum.

“Please pay more attention, I remember saying you look beautiful”.

“Ugh, they really know what they’re doing on that website”, you laugh, sudden and loud and genuine.

Oliver never thought Sendo’s dumb prank was something he’d resent him for. On the contrary, he decided to go with it just one time, for the sake of having a funny story to share one day.

Now, with the vivacious laughter of the (not entirely sane) stranger currently in his car still ringing in his ears, he knows he made the right decision.

Oliver is not prepared for the way you surprise him.

He has witnessed enough unsettling transformations in his life, hell, he still sometimes becomes another person on the field, but the switch you turn on the second you both walk into the reception is… staggering.

No one would be able to tell you had a breakdown in his car just moments prior to walking into the venue. Watching the way you carry yourself, how you talk to everyone, the confidence embedded in every word and movement is mesmerizing. Makes him doubt of his own sanity because what if he imagined you almost throwing up on his expensive seats?

His thumb idly runs over your knuckles as you introduce him to yet another friend. The boyfriend renting agreement comes with some important rules: the date is to be strictly platonic and there’s a fixed hourly rate which gets higher the more requested a boyfriend is. You briefly discussed some boundaries, to make sure the other is comfortable at all times: Oliver can’t kiss you and you can’t kiss him, but everything else is pretty much allowed. You asked if it was okay for him to hold your hand and he made it pretty clear that it wasn’t a problem, or so the fingers so easily slipping in between yours seemed to suggest. 

You kiss each other’s cheek and rest your heads on each other’s shoulder and your hands are so gentle as they move strands of dark hair away from his eyes. His arm feels solid and comforting around your shoulders, hand warm against the small of your back as he guides you through the garden filled with tables and guests.

Surprising Oliver is not easy but something weird happens when you call him baby for the first time. He wonders how you can make it sound so natural, where you learned to be a liar good enough to have your eyes sparkle like that, on demand. He’s there to have a fun story to share but he’s also supposed to do the work, to do what’s expected of him. Instead, it feels like you’re pulling the strings and all he can do is try to stay afloat within your current.

He surprises you too. When a few guests gather around you two, wonder shimmering in their eyes, friends asking where you even got to meet a pro soccer player, you look at him as shocked and rightfully confused as a fake girlfriend would be.

“She asked if she could get a jersey signed for…”, Oliver searches your gaze in silent demand and you clear your throat, still flabbergasted.

“Kenji”, you offer an easy smile.

The man standing on Oliver’s left, supposedly Kenji himself, gasps.

“Right, Kenji”, Oliver smiles too, “I told her I would only sign it if she went on a date with me”.

“He has that romantic blackmail thing about him, I fell for it instantly”, you ever so slightly narrow your gaze and, in response, he tightens his hold around your waist.

“You’ve been dating him for months and you didn’t think of getting us tickets to some games?”, another one of your old colleagues, Yoshio, pouts.

“You’ve been dating him for months and you didn’t think of getting us the numbers of some pro soccer players?”, your friend Yumi practically shoves Yoshio out of the way and you finally relax, melting into genuine laughter.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Guess we can still make that happen, right, baby?”, there’s a mischievous glint in your eyes when you look at him. He thinks he might get used to being looked at with such daring playfulness.

“Sure. Shuto’s always happy to go on dates-”

“Sendo Shuto?”, Yumi’s eyes get as big as saucers. This time, Oliver laughs with you.

It shouldn’t come as a shock that he’s good at what he does but you still can’t quite believe just how talented he is as a fake boyfriend. You’re aching to ask questions, the entire dinner spent wondering what on earth a famous pro soccer player is even doing on a rent a boyfriend website. Nothing gets past social media these days, wouldn’t that be news eventually? How does he keep it a secret? Is it a second job, a weird fetish?

Akane’s never been particularly traditional from what you can recall but her husband really wanted to incorporate as much traditional customs as possible in their celebration. You sit through course after course of plates and bowls filled with delicious dishes: clear soup with shrimp cake, sashimi, grilled fish glazed with sweet miso, tempura, red rice. All the while Oliver, ankle hooked around yours underneath the table, makes perfect conversation with everyone. He has an answer ready to each question and you pretend to ignore both your colleagues’ and Akane’s bewildered, inquisitorial gazes directed at you from tables away, too busy reciprocating your date’s honeyed praises and smiles.

He gets you alone in between courses, right as everyone is either taking a break or bringing the dancefloor to life before fruit and cake are served. They won’t buy it if we don’t pull away from the crowd for a little bit.

It’s why Oliver currently has you pressed against a retaining wall in a more secluded but still strategically visible part of the garden, body towering over yours and so close you can feel the heat radiating through the fabric of his white shirt.

“A pro soccer player”, you click your tongue, “care to explain?”.

“Relax your shoulders”, he murmurs and smiles, pleased, when you comply right away, “I owe you a date, not explanation”.

You deflate a bit and Oliver curls further over you.

“Fine, keep your secrets”, a pause, “won’t this be a problem if someone takes some pics and leaks them, though?”.

“I stopped caring about that stuff long time ago. But I can have everyone here sign an nda to protect you from it, just say the word”.

You shake your head.

“It’s fine. I’m not really on social media and we’ll split up by tomorrow, anyway”.

“Aw, you’ll break my heart”, one of his hands rises to rest on the side of your neck, thumb softly tracing your jaw, “even after validating how friendly and incredibly charming I am. So cold”.

There’s something about him, a stranger you paid to pretend to be your boyfriend for the sake of not attending yet another wedding alone. It’s odd and has your heart thumping in your chest, something behind your ribs catching fire whenever his fingers graze your skin so intentionally. You wonder if this is really him, if he’s the person you feel so inexplicably drawn to. If there’s a chance of you not being stupid enough to be attracted to a faux boyfriend with a carefully crafted, fictitious personality.

“Make it look like you’re kissing me”, you ignore his teasing for the sake of your sanity and slightly tilt your head up to meet the dangerous glint of mismatched eyes. Oliver lowers his head and tilts it slightly to the side, lips moving against your cheek when he speaks again.

“Put your arms around my neck”, he orders back in a murmur. Your scoff makes him chuckle as he pretends to not notice how you shiver against him.

“This is such a weird side job to have”, your embrace pulls him closer, or maybe it’s the lightest brush of your lips against his chin. When your fingers start carding through the green hair at the base of his nape, he exhales.

“Maybe it’s not a side job. Maybe I’m just here for you, just this once”.

You idly brush your nose against his cheek, a feeling warm and treacherous unfurling in your chest. He pulls back enough to lock your gaze to his once more, still so intense despite being concealed by the partial darkness of this particular corner of the garden. He is so unfairly beautiful. Not far from where you stand, guests are laughing and drinking and dancing, some of them no doubt looking at you two. It’s striking, how little they suddenly matter.

“Maybe that makes me lucky, then”, you whisper, lean into his touch when his other hand cradles your cheek. Oliver gently holds your face in his hands, seemingly conflicted as his gaze falls on your lips. You tilt your head back to give him a better view.

An absurd thought takes shape in a far corner of your mind: will this truly be the one and only time you’ll get to see him? Not that you’d ever be pathetic enough to rent a man from a website multiple times. Let alone the same man. It’s such a weird, ridiculous thing to be disappointed by. You wonder if it’ll rival the disappointment of not being kissed by him.

Oliver wets his lips, the pink flash of his tongue alluring in a maddening way. Your head spins. You don’t recall ever feeling such unusual torment before.

And then, finally, finally, he leans closer.

“Hey, lovebirds!”, Akane’s cheerful tone makes you both jump and you bring a hand to your chest as Oliver takes a wobbly step back, “we didn’t have the chance to chat, are you having fun?”.

She’s not talking to you at all, attentive gaze set on the man next to you.

“Everything’s perfect, thank you for having us. I wish you both everlasting happiness”, you smile, a little tense.

“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t surprised. One almost wishes he was around for all those office christmas parties, right? Remember how you were always the only one to show up alone?”.

You clear your throat, shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“I remember. Always alone and yet still the funniest person in every room, without fail”, with a wink, you hope to conceal the soreness caused by her ungenerous words.

Akane hums.

“I still wonder why that’s such a great coping mechanism…”

“It proves she doesn’t need a man to have a personality”, Oliver straight out grins, one hand comes to rest on your nape and gives it a gentle squeeze, “it’s what I like about her”.

She raises her brows in interest.

“Well, that’s true. She’s pretty great”.

“Yeah, she is”.

You relax under his touch and a strange thrill comes with it, with knowing he possesses the ability to make you feel at ease. He doesn’t exactly dislike such knowledge.

“I’m glad you have each other now”, Akane’s features soften, “maybe one day I’ll be invited to your wedding!”.

You cough, embarrassed.

“Let’s not go overbo-”

“Maybe!”, Oliver chimes in once again, jovial, “who can tell?”.

It almost makes you choke on air. When you look up at him, Akane’s cheerful laughter echoing in the sweet summer evening air, he’s already looking at you.

As you stumble back to join the other guests, heels sinking in the soft grass, the bride gently grazes your arm with the pads of her fingers before rejoining her husband and their closest friends. You know Akane is not a bad person, her words don’t hold any actual venom despite stinging. In her own way she means well, which is why you are so genuinely happy for her. She got the happy ending she was always destined to have. It’s just that not everyone is as lucky and it’s unfair to expect them to be just because she’s part of the chosen ones.

“Where are you going?”, Oliver hooks a finger in the low square back of your dress to pull you in, the contact setting something similar to a flow of electricity running along your spine.

“To eat cake?”, you easily dissimulate. He keeps his finger there, even when you stop in your tracks.

“Let them”, he winks, “may I have this dance?”.

You stay frozen.

“Did you just casually quote Marie Antoinette to me?”, is all you can come up with because, frankly, the idea of a man who already possesses so many blessings being also able to dance is a little too unfair.  

“Can’t a man be hot and educated?”, he grins, then finally releases the back of your dress by letting the stretch fabric lightly slap against your back, “don’t think you can distract me, let’s go”.

If there’s one learning to be taken from this impossibly strange evening is that, apparently, there is no escaping Oliver Aiku. He even rivals the promise of a rich serving of white chocolate almond cake with raspberry filling.

He pulls you close on the interlocking parquet dance floor rented by the newlyweds, hands splayed big and warm on your hips as your arms, for the second time, find their way to rest around his neck. You do your best to not feel intimidated by the excessively romantic, slow track everyone else is currently dancing to as well.

Then, it’s as if a spell is cast on you. Or rather a curse.

“Who is he?”, the question surprises you and your eyes find his. Oliver is so close and he smells so unethically good.

“Who?”, yet you struggle to keep your focus, attention oscillating between the stranger you’re currently pressed against and a more familiar face your wandering eyes keep searching, dancing not far from you. Something painfully throbs in your chest.

“The man you keep looking at, who is he?”, Oliver asks softly, almost caringly.

“My ex-boyfriend”, the confession isn’t but a low whisper, “I think. I think he’s here with the woman he cheated on me with. Well, one of them, anyway”, your chuckle is bitter. It distorts the joyfulness of the evening, the mere sight of them suddenly staining, polluting every positive feeling you’ve been able to feel until now.

And then Oliver is grasping your chin, tilting his head to effectively block your view of them. You’re forced to look at him and only him, to focus on how his thumb skating over the skin underneath your bottom lip feels.

“How about you keep your eyes on me, then?”, he whispers.

“Sorry”, you stop yourself with a sigh when your gaze slides once more, “I’m sorry. It’s really stupid”.

“What is?”, his gaze, perhaps involuntarily, falls on your lips, “caring? Feeling hurt?”.

“Don’t do that”.

“What?”.

“Don’t… like, I know this is an act. But you don’t have to do that too, pretend to care. You’re a little too good at it and it confuses me”.

Oliver lets go of your chin and offers a faint smile.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you confuse me too”.

You blink a few times, taken aback. He gracefully takes one of your hands from behind his neck and lifts your arm above your head to twirl you. For a moment, his eyes appreciate the airy swirl of the hem of your dress.

“I’m only pretending to be your boyfriend”, everything else feels a little too real, he wants to add. Maybe you’ll read the unsaid in eyes he can’t seem to be able to keep on anything else but you.

“You have a gift”, with a smile, you choose to deflect, “ever thought of giving up the soccer career?”.

“For this, you mean?”, Oliver goes from having his hands on your hips to hooking his arms around your waist, effectively caging you against him. Your forehead grazes his and the wind is swiftly knocked out of your lungs at the sudden proximity.

“Something like that, yeah”, one of your hands toys with his green strands once more, nails lightly scratching the back of his neck. A sound of contentment vibrates low in his throat and it makes you want to pull him close, impossibly closer.

He tilts his head to the side and you feel dizzy because his lips are ever so slightly brushing against yours. Not quite touching them, never kissing them, just there as a faint reminder or rather an intoxicating promise.

“You have to go in about five minutes”, you whisper, perhaps for the sake of feeling more of his mouth so close yet still too far from your own.

“Mm?”, he only manages to let out a confused sound.

You let your nose brush against his own. Playfully, daringly.

“I could only afford a couple hours, not the entire night”.

Oliver welcomes the implications of your admission with a low chuckle.

“And if I stay?”.

“I may be too broke for that”.

He presses a kiss to the very corner of your mouth. Sweet, fleeting. Determined.

“My treat”.

He can keep it platonic for about five more minutes.

boyfriend texts.

엔하이픈 니키 ୨୧ idol ！female reader social media fluff established relationship + cw. mention of kissing mention of skinship no stated timestamps ( other )

was supposed to post this after his aotm but i already know he did great ! >0<

Hi 👋, My name is Mohammad, and I’m reaching out in a moment of desperate need. I’m a father of three young children living in Gaza, and we are caught in the midst of a catastrophic war. Our home is no longer a safe haven, and the future here seems increasingly uncertain. 💔

I’ve launched a fundraising campaign with the goal of raising $40,000 to relocate my family to a safer place where my children can grow up in peace and have a chance at a brighter future.

Unfortunately, my previous fundraising efforts were abruptly halted when my account was terminated without explanation. However, I remain determined to keep fighting for my family’s safety and well-being. 🫶

If you could take a moment to read our story, consider donating, or simply share our campaign with others, it would make an incredible difference. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to safety and a new beginning. 🙏

Thank you for your time, compassion, and support. ❤️‍🩹

https://gofund.me/fd1faea2 🔗

hi im not a big platform but if anyone sees this please take a moment to spread the word and donate if you can!!

gofundme.com

Donate to Help Mohammed's Family From Gaza Rebuild Their Lives, organized by Mohammed Abu Swierh

My name is Mohammad Salem Abu Swierh, a husband and father of… Mohammed Abu Swierh needs your support for Help Mohammed's Family From Gaza R

IMPATIENT.

𝓢.ㅤ he had everything planned out but how's he supposed to wait when it comes to you?

PSHㅤ୨୧ ⠀ femreader⠀ . . .ㅤ fluff, established relationship, sunghoon pov, awkward ending oops idk how to end stuff, this is a repost cos i accidentally deleted it a while agoㅤ1147 words

sunghoon often gets overwhelmed by his feelings for you. sometimes the love he feels gets to be so intense that he doesn't know what to do, losing the ability to think rationally about anything that has to do with you.

he knew right away that he wanted to be the one to marry you but he held back for the four years and eight months that you dated, waiting until you talked about marriage first. you'd brought it up to him one morning, a simple conversation. one he replayed for weeks.

during those weeks he planned everything; his proposal. he bought a ring, bought tickets to paris (jake's idea—city of love and all that), booked a really nice hotel, and he had a whole itinerary for the day he planned on proposing. he's pretty sure he's going to be in debt for the rest of his life because of these expenses but it's worth it.

when he brought up the trip to you he simply played it off as something for your five year anniversary, it was close enough to the date so you didn't think much of it. five years was a long time so why wouldn't you do something special?

so on thursday morning, you rush to the airport because someone (sunghoon) didn't want to leave your embrace yet. thankfully, you made it on time, sunghoon holding tightly onto your hand to make sure he doesn't lose you in the crowd.

it takes fourteen hours to get from seoul to paris and another hour to drive to the hotel. the flight was.. okay. as good as a flight can be but god was it tiring, you don't think you and sunghoon have ever been as happy as you were to see a bed until tonight.

the next day you take it easy, spending most of it inside your hotel room, briefly stepping out to get dinner at some restaurant nearby. you're walking back, hands swinging back and forth slightly.

"what're we doing tomorrow?"

sunghoon hums, "it's a surprise,"

you knock your shoulder against his, "can i have a hint?"

"nope,"

you groan, throwing your head back while sunghoon smiles fondly at you. he loves you, he knows that. today, though, it feels like it's bigger than love. a lot bigger. you haven't even done anything significant today; it was practically just a regular day. okay, other than the fact that you were at a hotel in paris, but he ignores that part.

honestly, he isn't sure if there's a word deep enough to describe how he feels for you. it feels like he's drowning, sinking deeper and deeper every second that he spends with you and he's okay with that. more than okay; he's happy.

he wants to make you happy, too. he wants to spend the rest of his life seeing your smile and your laugh. he feels a slight wave of anxiety wash over him—what if he messes everything up? what if his proposal turns out to be awful?

he sighs, shaking those thoughts out of his head, instead focusing on you whine about how you need him to tell you what the surprise is. he just laughs at you, pulling out the key to the hotel room.

"i'll tell you tomorrow when we wake up, okay?"

"or now," you smile up at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. his hands instinctively go to your waist.

"i can't, baby,"

"i'm gonna stay up all night thinking about this,"

he leans down, placing a kiss on the crown of your head, "yeah, i'm sure you will,"

you don't stay up all night. in fact, you fall asleep almost right away, probably still exhausted from yesterday's flight. sunghoon wishes he could fall asleep as easily as you, but he can't. not when he's proposing to you tomorrow. the presence of the ring hidden inside his suitcase is too suffocating, it's like he can feel it in his hands already.

he pulls you closer to his chest, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. he really hopes that tomorrow will be your last day as simply boyfriend and girlfriend.

he falls asleep after you but he wakes up before you. he's glad that he did because it gives him the opportunity to stare at you. he likes when he wakes up before you; it gives him the chance to see you at your most peaceful, when all the stress from your life is missing.

he shifts, cupping your cheek with his hand, rubbing small circles against your skin. he stares at you for a few seconds longer before leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead.

"g'morning,"

he smiles against your skin, "morning, baby. did i wake you up? i'm sorry,"

you groan, pulling away from him so that you can rub your eyes, "no, i was already awake,"

he hums and you sit up, stretching your arms out.

"i didn't forget about the surprise, by the way," you glance towards him, "tell me, pretty please,"

he's quiet when he speaks, licking his lips, "i love you,"

"i know you do. i love you too. is that your surprise?" you lay back down, the two of you facing each other.

"will you marry me?"

he doesn't think before asking you. it forces its way out of his mouth, not giving him any choice in the matter. at first he doesn't care, but soon you can practically see him go though all five stages of grief.

"wait, wait, wait," he presses his hand over you mouth when you begin to speak, "don't say anything. i—god, let me ask you for real. i want it to be special, not something i say randomly,"

you listen to him patiently, waiting for him to stop before pulling his hand away from your mouth, "that was special, silly,"

he gives you a dirty look, "uh, no. i don't think me proposing to you in a hotel bed is special,"

"i think so. it's like.. you really couldn't wait to ask me,"

"i couldn't wait,"

"and i can't wait to answer you,"

he stares at you, taking in your expression. you're smiling at him, a soft smile that he hasn't seen from you before. it's different than all your other smiles, he doesn't know why. this one feels like you can understand the feeling that he has for you; something way beyond love.

"will you marry me?"

you giggle, a grin breaking out onto your face, "can i answer this time?"

he nods.

"mhm, i'll marry you,"

"thank you,"

"you don't have to thank me,"

he smiles, "yeah, i do. thank you for letting me into your life all those years ago and thank you for letting me stay in it," he leans forward, pressing his lips against yours, "i love you more than love."

note. idk why i deleted this hello ... i think i hated it that's why LMAOOO

BURY ME FACE DOWN — DAINSLEIF

✦ PREVIOUS ✧ QUEST MENU ✦ NEXT

★⋆. ࿐ PAIRING — Dainsleif x Princess!Reader

★⋆. ࿐ SUMMARY — In a land where the gods' gaze did not fall, there are those who dream of dreaming. Khaenri'ah, a nation who did not follow any archon but bowed to a king, was home to those who longed for a world without the weight of Celestia looming over their shoulders. But dreams end, and nightmares can take root— especially once their hidden corner is put under the microscope of the gods.

★⋆. ࿐ WARNINGS — Lore & theory based world building. Pre-Cataclysm Khaenri'ah. Readers visions are meant to be dysphoric & chaotic.

“The end of the Drekaöld’s is nigh, just as you predicted.”

You looked up from the book you had your nose buried in, facing your tutor who had been sitting across from you. It was as if he was waiting for the right moment to tell you what you already knew. 

You rose an eyebrow, gently closing the book in your hands, “Yggdrasil has yet to fail me, Master Frode. My father and the sage's may not believe in my sights, but you of all people should know they are true.”

He gave you a flat look, used to the slight smugness you radiated at being told another one of your sights were ringing true. From the first time he'd watched your face go blank and seen your hands rapidly scribble images onto a blank page, he knew you had been blessed by Yggdrasil. Ever since you were a babe, really. Born under the tree of life just as the first Bough Seer had been. 

Frode was one of the greatest scholars that Khaenri'ah had. It was the reason he taught not just you, but your elder brother Finn, and it was the reason he was your father's regent. His family started off as scribe's for Khaenri'ah’s first king, and knowledge was passed down with each generation. Who better to take the throne if something were to happen to the royal family than those in the Alberich clan? One day, his son could possibly be regent to Finn. 

“The legacy of the Bough Seer has been spoken throughout generations,” Frode let out a sigh. “It isn't that your father and the sages don't believe in your gift. It is that they are afraid of it.”

They were. The sages never wanted to hear talk of what sight the tree of life gives you. Their fear of Celestia not only had your nation underground and far from their gaze, it had the people pushing to get further away. Time, money, and resources were being dumped into bringing machines that could drill to the inverted surface, but there wasn't much progress with it. All in hopes that one day the people could see the sun shining again. 

Khaenri'ah had always been shrouded in darkness– from the minute that Celestia had dropped a nail on their ancestors in Sal Vindagnyr. Above the surface, tragedy struck those seeking refuge, and underground everything they had worked for was smashed to pieces. Up until finding the small corner of the world where they couldn't be found, the odds of survival were not high. 

The land they resided in now was built on blood, loss, and sheer spite to keep living without Celstia breathing down their neck. All because the ancestors had learned certain truths and began to rely on each other rather than the god’s bounties. 

“Are you calling my father a coward, Master Frode?” your lip tugged upward, a teasing smile gracing your lips at the startled look on his face. “You'd be correct, I suppose. The people do not have the slightest clue a Bough Seer was once again reborn, even though in the past they were once the king's greatest asset.”

Very few kings of the Eclipse Dynasty were fortunate enough to have a seer by their side. They were born once every five hundred years, and they were blessed by Yggdrasil with a sight that allowed them to see glimpses of what was to come. While most foresaw how the harvest would go, and if natural disaster would strike, it was still better than anything the sages could guess. With a Bough Seer, they were practically useless. 

However, your father chose to ignore your gift. He depended on the sages rather than you. Maybe it was because he feared the wrath of gods that you weren't supposed to believe in, or maybe it was because every time you were around him, all he could see was your mother. 

When you told him that Nidhug, Khaenri'ah’s true guardian, was going to fall ill and pass on, he refused to hear you. The sages believed his time would come far in the future. He was in perfect health, and there was no need to worry. 

But Nidhug was old. He had been around since the beginning of Khaenri'ah’s time. Your ancestors spent nine days fighting him, nine weeks gaining his trust, and nine months taming him before they could even think about touching the soil for anything other than farming. A dragon who had lived for thousands of years, alone until your people had found him. 

The dragonheirs were few and far between, eventually wiped out due to their untamable nature despite countless attempts to tame them as well. There was no creature who could take his place.

Weeks ago, you'd seen his fate. The way he barely moved an inch when approached, his labored breathing, and how long it took him to pry his eyes open when he was spoken to. He was going to die, and Khaenri'ah would no longer have its greatest defense. 

“I'm sure the meeting will be over soon,” Frode let out a sigh. “Sir Dainsleif will be able to take you to see him.”

You shook your head, “You could always accompany me as well. Unless—”

“Father!” A child's voice called out, the rapid patter of tiny footsteps echoing off the wall. “Look! Look what Master Gustav taught me!”

The boy was no older than seven, his hair styled to match his fathers– the top section pulled into a ponytails the rest laid down flat. You thought it was cute, how he always tried to look and act like the older man. Although he took after his mother Svana, with his tanned skin and blue hair, he did have Frode’s eyes. 

The white haired man went to scold his son for interrupting when you spoke up instead, “May I see too, Kaeya?”

It was almost as if he just realized you were there as he came to a stop in front of his father. His eyes widened, almost dropping what he had in his hand and reaching out to grab Frode’s arm. He froze, glancing at the elder man with a look that screamed for help. Kaeya had always been shy. Immediately embarrassed if he spoke too loud or gained unwanted attention. This time, it was because he didn't notice you, the princess he always saw but had barely spoken three words to. 

Frode nodded at the boy, and Kaeya held out a small wooden animal, one that looked to be carved and whittled by his own hand. Even though it lacked major details, it held just enough to make out what it was.

“Master Gustav said a dragon protects us,” Kaeya forced himself to speak. “He taught me how to carve the wood. I made it for mother, do you think she’ll like it?”

You smiled, gently taking his hand in yours before looking over his creation with more thought than before. You nodded your head in response, “I think she’ll love it. Do you think you could make one for me too? I can take you to see the real dragon in return.”

The thought of seeing Nidhug had Kaeya immediately nodding his head in agreement. He wanted to go now, but didn't dare push his luck. Frode was not too pleased with the idea of his son being around a beast, but if anyone could keep the dragon in line, it was Dainsleif, the captain of the Black Serpent Knights and your personal guard. 

“I wish to be a knight like you when I get older,” Kaeya absentmindedly told Dainsleif as the three of you walked the path to the sage's temple. 

He was stopping to pick up rocks and trying to catch butterflies as you went, forcing you and Dainsleif to stop walking long enough to drag his attention back to the task at hand. Both of you were patient, knowing he was young and easily distracted. 

“Is that so?” Dainsleif questioned him, slight amusement in his tone. “It will take a lot of training, bravery, and strength to become a knight.”

Kaeya nodded, already knowing this from the minute he was given the wooden sword that he had sheathed at his hip. He was determined, despite knowing how difficult it would be. He was too young to truly understand now, but he would be giving up the chance at an education, at learning what he would need to know in order to one day be a regent. The young one seemed to think he could do both, and no one had the heart to tell him that wasn't the case. 

There were days when you and Dainsleif would spend time at the Vaxandi library, going through books so he could learn to read better, or when you'd take him around the kingdom and explain the histories of the buildings that stood tall and proud for many millennia. Because his training as a knight took precedence over studies, Dainsleif was not as educated as other nobles. 

“I know,” he responded, proud of his decision. “One day I'll be strong enough to protect the princess too.”

He sounded so determined, like he would weather any storm to make his words ring true. Resilience and determination like that was needed for a knight, and as long as he kept that in mind, he could do it. He was already learning about conduct and forms from his master but had yet to train with even the wooden sword. 

Dainsleif could respect that, telling him he had complete faith in him as you all walked along the fields of mist. You could tell you were getting closer to the temple as the fog got thicker. Kaeya could barely see in front of him, reaching up to grab your hand before he could trip over rocks on the footpath. The way was lit, making it slightly easier to see as Dainsleif led the way. 

It didn't take long for the three of you to reach the temple, the sages outside allowing you to pass through without question. You didn't even greet them as you headed for the cave where Nidhug resided, knowing you wouldn't be able to mind your manners. You warned them this was going to happen, and they refused to listen to them. But, that was how it had always been. 

Kaeya let out a soft gasp when he saw the giant creature curled up on the ground. It was his first time seeing anything like it, and he almost couldn't believe his eyes. You frowned, approaching the beast slowly. 

You knelt down by his head, Kaeya letting go of your hand and taking several steps back when the dragon opened his bright green eyes and looked at you. Nidhug let out a sharp breath, closing his eyes again as you reached out to pet him. 

“Greyið,” you ran your hand over his dark scales, and he leaned into your touch. It was true. Nidhug was not well, his breathing was labored and he barely had the strength to move. “The beast’s last breath unbinds the old ways.”

Kaeya looked at Dainsleif, confused at your words. The knight simply shrugged in response. He was used to your way of speaking when it came to your sights. You were never direct, always vague or speaking in a sort of riddle. He figured you meant with Nidhug’s death, it would be the end of an era. Instead of giving Kaeya an answer, Dainsleif placed his hand on the small of his back and gently pushed him forward.

You turned, waving the boy forward. He apprehensively approached, crouching down next to you. He reached out as well, petting the creature as if it were a common house pet. His nose scrunched up at the texture felt against his fingertips– rough and uneven. 

A sigh left the dragon, at least you assumed that's what the change in his breath was. Silence fell over you as three of you spent the dragon’s last moments with him. Kaeya didn't understand what exactly was happening, but he didn't dare break the silence. He stayed in his spot, showing Nidhug the same amount of love that you were giving to him. 

When his labored breath came to a halt, a single tear trailed down your cheek. Nidhug was much more than a protector. He was a symbol of your nation’s separation from the Archons and Celestia. Now that he was gone there was no longer anything standing in their way. The Drekaöld had come to an end, the age of the dragon ending sooner than expected. The Black Serpent Knight's time was beginning, and something was telling you the strength of them combined was nothing in comparison to Khaenri'ah’s guardian.

Fire. Your hand furiously moved as you drew smoke and ash along the wall. Destruction. Despite being unable to make out clear details, the pit of unease that settled into your stomach told you that the ruins you were seeing were that of your nation. World… forget me. You paused, taking your free hand and wiping away the charcoal dust. You couldn't make sense of what you were seeing, what you were hearing. It didn't add up.

A land without sun. Khaenri'ah. The nation powered by the sólkerfi device, right? Wrong. Another land without natural light. But if not Khaenri'ah then where? Was there another nation who used an artificial sun? What did they have to do with anything? Was it war between us and them?

Field tillers. It was more clear now. Field tillers?…and the monsters that the Black Serpent Knights kept at bay, invading this other land. But, why? We have no qualms with anyone but Celestia. Taking on the gods seems unlikely, at least currently. What next? What happens next?

Death. Not in this strange land, but home.  They waged war? Or was it us? But what reason do we have? It’s unclear, fuzzy. Who died? Father? Brother? The knights who vowed to protect us in times like this? Death. Death of who, of what, of where? Khaenri'ah, right? … No answer? Tell me what happens. 

Khemia. Poison. Khemia? What is that? Unsafe. Gold. Make it make sense. Connect the pieces. None of them fit. It's made an even bigger puzzle. Why are you doing this? No time? Me or you? It doesn't matter. I’m afraid I don't understand. Don't tell me to be quiet. 

Blood. Below and above the surface. No, no, this isn't right. Speak clearly. What do you want to say? It's never this blurry, it's always so clear. It doesn't make sense. Did I do something wrong? I didn't mean to upset– what? Not my fault. Of course it's not my fault, you're the one confusing me. 

Sky Nail. Celestia awakens. The Archon War? Is it still ongoing? Why is that our concern? It's not. We have nothing to do with it. Do we? We don't. But why did they wake up? No time. I understand that.

Archon. Wrath. Arrogate. This is too much. Stop, stop, stop. What are we laying claim to? Why are the Archons mad? Because we don't worship them? Why do they care? They've cared about nobody but themselves for thousands of years. Yes, I agree, you should be angry with them too. Seems the legends are true. 

Gold. Poison. Downfall. It's out of order. Why is it out of order? Are you telling me you're dying? You were poisoned? No, we wouldn't let that happen. We can't let that happen. We won't let that happen. We can eclipse Celestia, but you will always shine bright. Shine bright. An Archon who protects you… interesting. I–

World… forget me. Out of time. 

“I thought I’d find you here,” A voice cut through the sound of erratic breathing and chalk dragging against stone. But the words fell on deaf ears, you were much too lost in your own head. You were frantic, running the chalk down into loose grit, desperately searching for another. 

The newcomer held one out for you, watching as you worked along the wall with nothing but a flickering lantern as your light source. Just like always, he silently watched until a sharp breath passed your lips and the chalk clattered against the floor. You stood there, mumbling nonsense under your breath. He couldn't make out a word you were saying, but he could see your mouth moving. 

“This…” you trailed off, absentmindedly wiping the black powder off on your nightgown. “This is bad. Not good.”

He approached you, lightly placing a hand on your shoulder. You jumped, not realizing he was there. Your heart was racing, much like your mind as you tried to piece together the broken puzzle. 

“Dainsleif,” You exhaled slowly, trying to calm yourself down. “What are you doing here? It's late.”

A light chuckle left him, his blue eyes shining with amusement, “I could ask you the same thing, elska. Walking around without a guard? What would your father say?”

He could always find you here, especially after the day you had with losing Nidhug. He had a feeling you'd be getting your next sight soon, although he didn't realize it would be this close to the one that was just fulfilled. 

You rolled your eyes, “As if he’d ever know. He’s much too busy discussing matters with the sages and preparing Finn to take the throne to give me one ounce of his attention. Plus, these are royal grounds. No one would ever be foolish enough to make an attempt on my life here. Now, don't evade the question.”

“Well then what of Frode, what if you were hurt on the way?” he prodded, earning a flat look from you. He sighed in defeat, “Alright, fine. If you insist on knowing, I came here purely on instinct. From the looks of it, you should've called on me before coming here alone.”

He glanced to the wall, which had been drawn on for years. This was the biggest piece you'd ever done, and what the picture held was concerning. He'd never seen such darkness and violence depicted in one of your drawings. He felt uncomfortable looking at it for too long. 

“I haven't made complete sense of it,” you admitted, following his gaze. “It was all choppy, blurry. Barely comprehensible.”

He frowned, focusing his attention back on you, “You need to rest. You can figure it out tomorrow.”

But, sleep would never come. After Dainsleif escorted you back to the palace and bid you goodnight, the only thing you could do was toss and turn. The images you saw earlier plagued your mind, concerning you to the point where you couldn't close your eyes without seeing the jumbled mess of all of it. 

By the time the moon’s position went from miðnætti to åtta– midnight to eight– you hadn't slept a wink. Instead of waiting for your handmaiden to help you get dressed, you got ready for the day by yourself and made your way to the Höggomur Quarters where Dainsleif resided. 

You knew he'd give you an earful for not waiting, and for storming into the Black Serpent Knights wing as if you did it all the time. People would talk, and Halfdan would never let either of you hear the end of it. 

Halfdan swore he was a romantic, and that he was perceptive when people had feelings for one another. But whatever he thought about you and Dainsleif, he could forget it. Even if Dainsleif did reciprocate your feelings, you were a princess and he was your guard. The sages would never approve of such a relationship, let alone your father. Halfdan thought the two of you were imbeciles– blind to how you felt about each other– and he couldn't fix stupid. However, he could push and prod. 

Which is exactly what he went to do as soon as he saw you in the halls. But, you were dead set on finding Dainsleif as soon as possible. You'd been up all night, your mind running in circles as you tried to make sense of it all. 

“Do not start,” you warned him, holding up a finger. “Where is he?”

Halfdan, who had a ghost of a cheeky smirk on his lips, gave you an amused chuckle in response, “He’s just now getting ready. Someone kept him up all night.”

Your mouth parted in shock, offended at what he was insinuating even though you both knew it wasn't true, “You mind your tongue, Sir Halfdan. Tell him to not keep me waiting or I will leave without him.”

“You think so poorly of me,” the man in question approached you, a small hint of a smile shining through his feigned annoyance. “Did you even get any rest?”

You pursed your lips before you evaded the question, “We need to get going.”

The slightly unamused look in his eye turned into one of irritation. Your disregard for your own self care was the bane of his existence, especially when you had yet to make sense of one of your sights. You were stubborn, you always had been. Once you set your mind to something, there was no changing it. It was something he both appreciated and hated about you. 

With a facetious smile in his direction, you walked towards the exit of the headquarters. He was quick to follow, falling into step with you in no time. There was a comfortable silence that fell between you, the walk to Yggdrasil’s location taking less time than you thought. 

As the two of you drew closer, an anxious pit set in your stomach. It grew with each step, the looming feeling of something dreadful pressing into your shoulders. It was almost as if he could tell, because the moment it almost became unbearable, he turned to look at you.

“The inteyvat fields will be ready soon,” he informed you, a light smile painting his lips. “I believe I promised to take you.”

Despite yourself and the turmoil you were fighting, you let out a small laugh, “I believe that you do, every year if I recall correctly.”

He remembered when he first became your guard. He was fresh out of training, eager to do his duty. As bright as a star– if not as bright as the moon. It was also the first time he'd seen you cry. That day had been sour from the minute you woke, aware that not only was it the day of your birth, it was the day of your mother's death. As a new life breathed air under the Yggdrasil tree, another was lost. 

Even though you wished to be alone, he disregarded your words and refused to leave until you stopped crying. He had the idea to get your mind off things, a simple stroll that led you the furthest out of the kingdom that you had ever been. A place that your former guard refused to let you go. The Inteyvat fields in the heart of Pilos Path. He promised to bring you every year as a reminder that even though a flower had been plucked from the ground, it remained intact. Much like the memory of a soul who has departed from the world of the living will never be forgotten as long as there were those who remembered. 

Every year you visited since, you often thought about entering Pilos Peak and seeing what was on the other side. Would it be everything you ever dreamed? Would the sun emit real warmth? Were the stars as bright as the stories told?

Neither one of you had seen real stars before. Because deep under the ground of Jarðríki– Teyvat– and between that of Óþekkturíki– Inteyvat– was a kingdom with a bare sky. No real stars, or a real sun. Just a real moon. 

While above the surface offered another beautiful light moon and thousands of stars, according to the legends, it was all believed to be fake. You may never feel the warmth of the Teyvat's sun or the chill of the night, but you could always dream. You once told Dainsleif this dream. Whether it was to see the world above the surface, or the real moon below, you wanted to see the world. Khaenri'ah just so happened to lie perfectly between both Teyvat and Inteyvat.

While there was no direct path to Teyvat, there was a portion of Khaenri'ah that did not belong to the world. It leads further down, into a world that your people dared not explore. At least, not yet. Alchemists and researchers were working on perfecting their machines to make headway, and only the best of adventures and the royal guard would be sent in. Meaning one day you would have to say goodbye to Dainsleif, as he was the Rökkrinu Sverð– the Twilight Sword– the captain of the Black Serpent Knights.

Not knowing if you would ever see the man you considered your closest companion again one day also filled you with dread. But all the hard work he's done, all the time and effort he put in would be paying off, and you knew that you'd never be more proud of anyone when the time came. That was your reasoning for continuing your birthday tradition once you had stopped hating it– you never knew which birthday would be Dainsleif's last to spend with you. 

Now, as the two of you came to a stop in front of the Yggdrasil tree, you wondered if that time was nigh. Your eyes scanned the markings you had left behind last night, seeing them more clearly under the moon’s light. 

You thought there were pieces to a puzzle that wouldn't fit no matter how hard you tried. But, looking at it now, you could see where all the pieces lied. Your mind was no longer buzzing with confusion and was clear of the fog a sight always left you in, and it was much easier to work out the order of everything. 

A stranger, someone new to the land who would bring a power that would not only cause war between Khaenri'ah and another nation, it would also lead to Khaenri'ah's downfall. Celestia would once again awaken, once again wipe out your people to keep you all silent. Afterall, the best way to keep a secret was to make sure the other party could never tell it. History would repeat, and your nation– your people– would be lost.

You swallowed thickly, turning to Dainsleif, “I must speak to Master Frode.”

“What is it?” He questioned, not missing the terrified look in your eye despite how well you tried to cover it. You could've fooled anyone else, but not him. “What did you see?”

Tears stung the back of your eyes as you forced yourself to look up at him. Concern was written in his expression, wildly searching your eyes for an answer that you were hesitant to give. You could never be clear with your answers. Not that you didn't want to, but you weren't physically capable of doing so. You had to pick all of your words wisely, and the words you chose as you grabbed his hand filled him with dread.

“Promise me,” your mouth ran dry as you choked back the tears threatening to spill over. “Dainsleif… promise me that you will hold my hand as the walls come tumbling down.” 

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synopsis: riki knows you better than anyone else. includes: bridgerton au (barely), a little women reference, confessions of love, pre-marital kissing (the scandal!), gross old men, arranged marriage notes: @hoes4hoseok i hope you enjoy my timothee chalamification of riki, this one's for you girl🩷

there’s a thin line between love and friendship. your mother says she was friends with your father before she ever learned to love him, never in the way the poets rave, but in a way that made her life easier. in her words, “a love match is as rare as a diamond, dear. you shouldn’t hold out hope of one should it ruin your debut.”

it’s a shame, you think, that you can love someone so deeply and yet there’s no guarantee they’ll share the sentiment, nor a chance to see if what you feel is dwindling infatuation or true unyielding devotion. it’s improper to explore your options, greedy to want more than expected, and childish to yearn for love. yet you do.

your debut season approaches fast, and with it, the heavy promise of your hand to baron mortimer weighs your heart down like an anchor keeping you from daydreaming of the things you had read and researched about love.  he’s wealthy, titled, and twice your age. he would give your family a more comfortable life, save you from the shame of becoming a spinster if you do not find another suitable match your first season, and seems to be respectable enough despite his intent to marry you, a soon-to-be debutante he set his eyes upon years ago. it’s unnerving, but your mother speaks of him without disdain, so you keep your anxieties about his character at bay.

unfortunately, your dearest friend plagues your mind just so. riki’s return from oxford approaches with the same swiftness as your debut. you dread the idea of no longer having the liberty to write to him or paint him when he’s a willing muse, as it would be improper to do so while promised to another. for that reason you have yet to write to him since your last letter a week ago, where in it you bid him the gentlest farewell you could to help ease the ache in your heart.

you aren’t sure if he even received it, as he has not written back, but you suppose it’s for the best.

at least you believe that until he’s before you with unkempt hair and a haunted look in his tormented gaze. 

“tell me it is not true.” he says, chest rising and falling as if he had run from oxford to mayfair on foot, though perhaps he had been traveling by carriage since he received the letter clutched between his fingers. “tell me you are not marrying that man.”

you are unsure of how to respond, your lips parting hut no words leaving them. you turn toward your ladies maid, who blinks wildly as she receives the message, placing your hairpin down and hastening out of the room past the viscount’s son. the door clicks and yet his gaze remains unyielding, you finally speak, “you are back early, mr nishimura.”

riki had always been exceedingly easy to read, only to you, he used to pout. this moment is no different, and you can see how hard it is for him to wrap his head around his title leaving your lips instead of his name, but he recovers enough to repeat himself, “tell me.”

you place a hand on your stomach, squeezed by a corset that you suspect is why you can’t seem to catch your breath, “i will not lie to you.”

his brows furrow, his teeth peeking from his plump lips as they part in disgust and frustration, “he is old.”

“yes, i am aware of lord mortimer’s age.” you say with a similar frustration on your tongue that is heavily withheld by your propriety, “my mother saw it pertinent i educate myself before our marriage.”

“you cannot marry him.” riki says, and the frustration in your blood blooms into something more, something worse.

“that is not your decision to make.” you state, mindlessly flattening invisible wrinkles in your dress as he takes a step closer, only for you to fortify the distance with one of your own in the same direction, “not any more than it is mine.”

“you…” he loses his words as his hand clenches and releases at his side like he longs to reach for you, “you do not want this.”

“what i want does not matter to my parents anymore than it should to you,” you state, attempting to tuck the loose strand of hair that your ladies maid hadn’t the time to fit into your updo behind your ear, only for it to fall right back into place against your cheekbone, “lord mortimer is wealthy, he will give me a comfortable life.”

“do you not deserve a happy one?” riki asks, and you feel the cracks in your chest widen. instinctively, you fight the tremble of your chin and the tug in your brow as tears attempt to fit through the open crevice of your act.

“no, don’t—“ you shake your eyes, turning away from him as your arms drop to your sides, “don’t do that. i have accepted my future, i do not need you planting doubts in my mind.”

“what use would planting them do when i can see they’ve already taken root far before i arrived here?” you overlook the step he takes, nor how large his stride is. he only takes one yet it makes all the difference, as he feels infinitely closer than before. just as you feared he would.

“stop it.” you say, masked inside a heavy exhale, yet a plea all the same. “you should be visiting with your sisters, i’m sure they missed you dearly—“

“don’t marry him.” he says, and you finally look at him.

“what?” you ask despite knowing exactly what he said, you want to hear him say it again to make sure it wasn’t in your head.

he shakes his head, taking another step closer, “don’t marry him.”

“you…” he doesn't have to explain what he means, your childish hopes of love that you’d hidden so deep in your conscience do so for him. your heart sings as his eyes flick between your own and then down the bridge of your nose and lower, but your mind refuses to bend as your heart does. you shake your head, shuffling back to salvage whatever distance you can, “no.”

“yes.” he responds in kind, dropping the letter and closing the distance between the two of you to grab your hands. his next words are paired with the act of him flattening your palm against his chest, keeping it there while he grasps the other in his much larger hand, “you can’t marry him.”

“you are being cruel.” you try to pull away, but his grip is firm and you know that if you meet his gaze you won’t be able to fight it anymore.

there’s a sickening silence as his thumb draws shapes on the back of your hand, you can feel his heartbeat. it’s strong, and its pace only feeds your own heart wanton promises of devotion you had only ever been told were too rare to expect in your lifetime, “tell me you do not want me.”

the suddenness of his demand lowers your guard for just long enough for your heart to find the upper ground and force your eyes into his sights, he repeats himself, “tell me you do not want me and i will leave you to marry lord mortimer.” his words are punctuated by the hand not holding yours to his heart grasping the side of your jaw, his thumb moving against your warmed cheek, “tell me and i will never speak to you again, just as you requested in your letter. you will never have to see me and i won’t—“

“i don’t want that.” the words leave your lips without warning, but it’s too late to take them back by the time they reach his ears. you shake your head, “i don’t—i don’t want to marry, i want to paint and read and—“

he listens as your supposed acceptance crumbles beneath his gaze, chest heaving under your palm. “—i want to do all of those things with you, i do. the baron has my parents under his wretched thumb and i cannot bear it, i cannot—“ a sharp inhale rakes your body, a mix of a sob and a desperate but fruitless attempt to regain composure, “i don’t want you to go away, i want you to stay here with me and—“

his lips meet yours with a firmness that sets your heart aflame, and when he pulls away just enough to look at you your heart finally lands the finishing blow in its fight against your mind. your hand lingers on his chest as the one he uses to keep it there moves to mirror its counterpart on the other side of your jaw.

you barely glance down at his lips before they’re on yours again, a welcome experience that you hope you can experience over and over until you’re utterly familiar, but now you're not sure how to reciprocate. the novels you’ve read did little to educate you on the experience, much less prepare you for it to occur with the boy you’d found yourself longing for through the years. 

the gasp you let out when his hand moves from your jaw to your waist to tug you closer is silenced by his lips attaching themselves to yours like he’d spent a lifetime wishing to taste you.

he pulls away, yet he doesn't seem keen on keeping the distance, his nose brushing yours as he promises, “i will speak to your parents—”

the mention of them has your guts turning painfully enough to rip you away from him, nausea hitting you like a bullet through your throat, “i should not have done that.”

“i kissed you—“ his statement does little to quell your sickness, and the wavering grate in your voice as you interrupt him is telling of that. “that changes nothing.” your fingers move to your hair, the pin keeping it in place falling to the floor as you tug, “i am ruined. forget marrying the baron, i cannot marry anyone.”

“was i not clear?” he asks, and when you look at him with frustrated reluctance he continues, “should i gut myself? place my heart in your hands to have you understand how you haunt me?”

“we cannot marry.” you say, bottom lip trembling, “i will not be a consequence of your actions. it is not your duty to marry me when i am the only one ruined.”

riki’s jaw shifts as if your words brought him only fury, “i do not care for duty, i care for you.” 

“you are young, riki. you are not expected to marry for at least—“

“i want to.” he states firmly, “you said you wanted me to stay, so i am staying. i will dance with you at balls. i will send flowers and call on you every morning. i will promenade alongside you for as long as it takes. i…”

he moves towards you, thumbs brushing away the tears under your eyes as his forehead meets yours, “i am yours, do with me what you will.”

©heedeungism : do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission.

zhongli x adeptus!gn!reader

(all fluff no angst ur welcome <3)

Once upon a time, in the land of Geo, there was an adeptus who lived among humans. They were well known all across Liyue for their beauty, so much so that suitors from all over the land came to ask for their hand in marriage. However, the adeptus thwarted all proposals. They set forth a contract - whoever wished to marry them would first have to bring them three specific gifts...

Everyone in Liyue Harbor is familiar to some extent with the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's consultant Zhongli. This, of course, means that as his spouse, they're also familiar with you. Whenever the two of you go out on a walk together, all sorts of people would stop and chat with you - to see how the two of you are doing, or to implore Zhongli's seemingly endless knowledge on all sorts of subjects. Needless to say, thanks to this, as well as your husband's refined tastes, you know most merchants that the city had to offer. This often comes in handy - such as now, when your wedding anniversary rapidly approaches and you find yourself at a loss. The two of you have long moved past the need for gifts to mark special occasions, yet this doesn't stop you from wanting to show your continued appreciation for him.

...Many approached them, but it soon became apparent that this was a task impossible for any mortal to accomplish. Their fame continued to spread regardless. Eventually, even Rex Lapis, the Lord of Geo himself, heard of their impossible challenge. He headed off to the adeptus' residence to investigate the matter for himself. Yet even the ever stoic archon was swept away by their immeasurable beauty...

As you peruse the streets in search of inspiration, you overhear Zhongli's favourite storyteller Tian narrating to a small crowd in the restaurant. You move closer to listen as well - you quite enjoy hearing how exaggerated the stories of your husband's exploits become with time. You often tease him about it, only for him to tease you back about the many rumours about adepti that swirl around Liyue. Regardless of its accuracy though, Tian's story gives you an idea and when he's done, you approach him.

"Ah, good day. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was wondering if you would do me a favor," you say, "You see, mine and Zhongli's wedding anniversary is coming up and I wanted to request a particular story for the occasion."

You go on to explain your idea to him and then have to bear the embarrassment when he coos at you. Still, he gladly agrees to help you out.

..."I have come to judge for myself," said Rex Lapis, "Whether you have made a fair contract. After all, a contact with truly impossible conditions cannot be a fair one."

"You're welcome to try your hand at it yourself, my lord. You'll find all is accomplishable," responded the adeptus, "And should you choose to bring me the three items I request, then I shall certainly uphold my end of the contract."

And thus did Rex Lapis set off to win the adeptus' heart...

On the day of your anniversary, you wake up to Zhongli kissing your forehead. You try to keep him in bed with you, but his early riser habits prove a much too formidable opponent. He chuckles softly at your antics, then picks you up without warning and brings you with him to the kitchen. It catches you off guard and your laughter echoes in the hall of your home. He cooks you breakfast as you discuss your plans for the day and you make sure to tell him that dinner is on you. He seems intrigued by your secrecy and your giddiness, but you only tell him to wait and see. You spend your day with him visiting all your favourite spots around Liyue and recalling your favourite memories, using your adeptal powers to make sure normal people don't see you. When evening comes you go back to the harbor and take a seat in his favourite restaurant. As agreed upon, Tian begins the story you requested from him - the legend of how Rex Lapis met his spouse.

"He's never told that one before." Zhongli remarks, surprised, when the story begins. "I assume this is your doing, dear?"

"I simply suggested he expand his repertoire, is all." You smile innocently and he fondly rolls his eyes at you.

...First, they requested a treasure unheard of - silver with the shine of gold and gold with the shine of silver. And so Rex Lapis gathered his most trusted adepti companions. Under the brightest glow of the moon and the strongest shine of the sun, they worked tirelessly and eventually forged a ring. The ring could change its material from gold to silver and from silver to gold purely on the whim of its wearer. And when it was finished, the Lord of Geo immediately began his work on the second request.

For their second gift the adeptus demanded a breath neverending. For this, Rex Lapis travelled to the land of freedom and requested help from his old friend - the God of the Wind. Rex Lapis brought him a qingxin from the highest peak of Liyue. Then, Barbatos summoned a wind from the air and had it gently rustle the petals of the flower. And so Rex Lapis had his second gift, for the petals would tremble unbothered by time until the wind itself runs out of breath.

In the final request, the adeptus said this - a place of eternal peace and serenity, undisturbed and safe from harm. Rex Lapis alone raised the ground and created a mountain, and on the mountain - a house. This house would be accessible only to them and those whom they chose to welcome inside. And then, only when he had all of his gifts, did Rex Lapis finally return to the adeptus' abode.

"I have judged your contract fair and its conditions fulfillable," said the Lord of Geo, "And I bring you the items you requested - a ring fit to your whims, a flower to compliment your beauty and a home to be shared in everlasting love. For i swear to never leave your side, to never upset you, to never let harm befall you as long as I live, and yet beyond that."

"Your gifts are most ingenious, Rex Lapis," laughed the adeptus then, "And yet I wonder if you noticed? These feats were meant only for you to accomplish, and you alone..."

"I do hope the two of you enjoyed the story," Tian approaches you when the crowd dissipates after his performance. "And happy anniversary!"

"Thank you kindly. It was certainly quite a dramatic rendition." Zhongli says and you can't help but delight in the slight blush on his cheeks.

"Sounded pretty accurate to me," you laugh, "Though who can say? The original events are lost to time, after all."

"Indeed, we can only guess as to what truly transpired. Please, enjoy the rest of your dinner." Tian bids you both goodbye, and yet, he can't help staring at your wedding ring. He is almost sure it was silver when the two of you last spoke. It must be the lights and the story getting to him...

...And so did Rex Lapis and his beloved set the tradition of Liyue for generations to come. A ring, a flower and a home, but most important of all - a contract fit for two to honor until the end of time...

can tumblr stop showing me fanfics about things im no longer interested in 😭😭 im not even following tags related to them wtf

delicate | nishimura riki

౨ৎ ## love so delicate like yours, synopsis: you've realized how far you've gotten with your boyfriend now that both of you are adults.

includes: 1.9k words | soft fluff | yn is anxious asf but riki comforts them | we love reassurance | movie notebook reference 😎 | yn got a tattoo and it makes riki fall in love with them more 🙆‍♀️🙆‍♀️

extra: at this point, all of the members are taylor swift coded | soft love is the best love | yn is me because im also 18 and i dont wanna pay taxes D:

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3

[below the cut]

you sighed as you laid yourself flat against the blankets. you smiled in delight as if your troubles and worries left you. 

“school’s over.” you said, feeling your chest heavy. you recalled the school memories that you’ve experienced; both happy and sad, now that you’re taking the next chapter of your life; college. 

it’s leaving a bittersweet feeling on your whole body. 

“it is.” you looked over your shoulder, to see your boyfriend, riki fiddling with his yearbook. his fingers spotted towards the back of the book, heartfelt messages and inspiring words that his friends wrote for him. 

you’re in riki’s backyard, inside of a treehouse both of you built since children with the help of your parents. you’re so lucky your dad is a constructor. 

riki is sitting, one leg sticking out and one knee bent as he leans into the wooden walls. this position allows you to admire him from below as the sunlight flashes on his beautiful features. 

he’s reading every single message with sincerity and care, from his senior friends that he will probably never see again and his younger juniors that he can’t annoy anymore. 

“i can’t believe we’re gonna be college students now. where we have to pay off debts, start our career paths, those people who are gonna be closer to 20 than 16 - it’s just,” you took in a breath. “surreal. surreal that we are growing up.”

you had always had a fear of growing up. not wanting to achieve the things and goals you’ve planned on time. you felt like you’re rushing to do everything at once before it becomes too late. you always wanna stay 16 forever; forever naive to understand the real world. how you’re closest friends will separate from you. how everything you’re experiencing right now will be just a memory. 

riki glanced down on you where you’re staring off of space. he can sense the anxiety in your tone. 

he closes the book after he was staring at a picture. a picture titled, “best couple” and it’s a picture of the both of you standing next to each other, smiling widely. he scooted himself, making himself comfortable once he lays down next to you. his back lays flat, mimicking your position. 

“are you scared?” riki likes to question the obvious, but it helps you reflect on your feelings; how fear is just a feeling.

“just a little anxious just all,” you confessed, looking at riki whose eyes never left yours. “i’m sure it will disappear soon. i mean, everyone experiences this.” you reassure yourself and riki sense it. 

“mhm,” riki mumbles. “it’s okay to feel anxious, the future is scary.” he looks down. “it’s only a matter of time how you’re gonna handle it. you create your own future.” 

his words ring in your head. he’s right.

riki took your silence as a way that you agree with him. 

he then glanced down towards your arm, a black-inked drawing that attracted him. riki scooted closer, his body turned to yours. he propped himself up with his elbow.

no matter how close the proximity is between the both of you, it still makes you nervous til this day. especially with how much older and mature-looking your boyfriend of 6 years is. 

“your parents aren’t mad about this?” riki gently poked on your arm, eyes analyzing the beauty that you’ve decided to put on your arm. 

it’s beautiful, he thinks. 

“not anymore, i’m 18 now.” you huffed out. you remembered the horror on your parents’ faces but a sigh of defeat when they realized you’re now responsible of yourself. it makes you chuckle their panicked expressions, but it made them realize that you’re not gonna be their little 4 year old reckless daughter anymore. 

“i can imagine your mom shrieking.” riki giggled which made you scoffed because he wasn’t wrong. 

“your birth flower?” riki asked, his fingertips gently tracing the traces of your birth flower. 

your eyes widened a bit at his sudden touch then you looked down at how focused riki was. his eyes were staring at it as if your tattoo was a museum. 

your heart beat quickened at the sight. 

“the flower that i drew for you in your math notebook in 6th grade.” riki smiled, realizing how much time flies since you guys called it official since middle school. you’ve remembered the nervousness riki’s hands were fiddling when he made a bouquet of origami flowers that he made each week that he fell in love with you. you thought it was silly. riki has always been caring and kind to you so it was natural for you to reprociate the feelings back. 

“i thought you threw your old notebooks away..” his voice still remains soft and delicate, still smiling at your tattoo.

“i ripped the page and kept it since.” when you were going into your freshman self, you looked back into the notebooks to reminsince your middle school memories. you’ve came across a drawing — no other than riki’s in your notebook. you ripped it out and hid it in a safe spot until you get a tattoo of it ever since.  

some people thought you guys weren’t gonna make it past middle school — even you too, but since both of you got in the same highschool, it is still strong. a strong string holding your relationship tight. yes, with hormones acting up and puberty getting in the way, there were times where you guys had fought and argued together to the point it was nearing breaking apart but both of you shouldn’t let it slide. not when it has reached this far. 

although your boyfriend has grown up, there are occasionally times where he teases you and becomes childish around you, it makes you reminsince how he still has a soul of his 12-year old self. especially moments where he look similar to a duck, which made you think about how much duck plushies you have on your bed because it reminds you of riki. 

you’re happy that you’re growing up with him.

“a penny for your thoughts?” 

you gasped lightly, realizing that you’re spacing out. you looked at him and you see a small smirk implemented on his face, curious of what your pretty head is thinking of.

your face relaxes, trying to calm yourself. you’re nervous over nothing.

you looked down at your hands, then glance at riki’s hand comfortably resting, then back to your hands. your fingers slowly creep upon riki’s fingers, slowly rubbing them with yours. you smiled at the sight.

“it’s insane to think about how much we’ve grown.” you paused. “together.”

riki’s eyes looked at the sight, his heart beat echoing and growing louder. no matter what you do, you always make him think irrational. he then glances at you smiling when you’re playing with his fingers. “not many people believed in us lasting this long, not even me. i was worried if one of us lost feelings, found someone else better, or get something in our way, but im glad that we didn’t give up.” you looked at riki where his attention was diverted to you. he raised an eyebrow to indicate that he was listening.

“i’m happy that i’m dating you, i can’t express how much i adore you, how much you mean to me, i’ve never felt love this strong before — you’re just everything to me. i can’t imagine laughing harder than with anyone else, smile so much with anyone else. with you, it’s different. thank you for loving me.” 

you’re cringing on the inside at how much you confessed in such a short amount of time. you’re met with silence from your boyfriend who seem atonished from your words. you’re embarrassed, pulling back your fingers to cover your blushing cheeks in front of your boyfriend.

riki’s lips twitched, happy for you to express your feelings more comfortably now compared to the past situations. (one of the reasons that you’ve guys argued before) his chest felt light, his grin becoming bigger when you’re hiding from him.

you hear the blankets rustled, you felt riki’s arm slowly snake around your arm to remove your hand from your face. you removed your embarrassed hands and your eyes followed his hand clasping onto yours. the sight of his veiny hands makes you silent.

you admire the two of you holding hands. your stomach was feeling butterflies just as it was the first time riki confessed his feelings to you. riki twists your wrist, allowing you to see the sight from all angles. it looks so perfect. your hand perfectly structured to hold his. 

“you’re just as perfect as to what i am seeing right now.” riki spoke with a soft tone, chuckling when he kept twisting and turning your wrist. “you have a place in my heart no one else could ever have. my heart is so full of you i can hardly call it my own. i choose you. and i’ll choose you over and over. without a pause, without a doubt, in a heartbeat, i’ll keep choosing you. as long as i’m alive, you will always be loved.”

you’re speechless at your boyfriend’s words to the point you feel like crying. riki still kept smiling at you, giggling. you saw the crescents formed in his eyes whenever he smiled at you and it never fails to make yourself love him more.

riki took this opportunity to lift himself up, hovering above you. he pecked your forehead. you felt his warm lips touching your skin and the goosebumps always forms whenever he makes you flustered.

you looked up at him, surprised. he looked down at you with his head tilted and a scrunched nose like a puppy, as if he was proud to do that.

nothing but an exchange of loud heart beats matching with one another and genuine giggles back and forth. 

riki then leaned in towards you. you closed your eyes at the expected action. his lips touching with yours. electricity flows when he rubs his fingers on your hands. it always make you feel all tingly on the inside. 

riki then pulls back, “cute.” he teases you, making your cheeks grow hotter. “shut up.” you rolled eyes, earning a little laugh from him.

riki still doesn’t let go of your intertwined hands as he returns to his original position where you’re laying flat on the ground, shoulder to shoulder. 

“so your summer plans?” riki asked casually. he lifted his head as his arm was under his head to act as support.

you then touched your bangs, realizing that you still have that caramel-like highlights since march. you were starting to get bored of it.

you pursed your lips. “maybe dye my hair next week back to black.” 

riki’s eyes shined. “match with me.” he spoke without thinking. you turned your head to him, realizing that his hair is black now. 

your boyfriend likes it alot when both of you match. 

“if you bleach it next month to some color then what?” you pointed out because sometimes your boyfriend makes impulsive decisions on his hair whenever he sees a cool hairstyles. you’re not angry whenever he does this because he’s good looking with whatever hair color he has.

“i won’t bleach it, i promise. i’ll follow you.” riki spoke and it makes you chuckle that he probably doesn’t realize the importance of his words. “red? blue? silver, i’ll do it for you.” you froze at his sudden deep voice erupting from him. your heart beat also freezes when his lips touches the location of your tattoo. you looked down and see his lips pushed forward. your heart flutters once again.

“you’re dumb.” you spoke, eyes softening at what you were hearing. 

gosh, you really love this man.

riki smiles against your skin, looking up and your heart twists at an umfamiliar sight. “i can be that.”