#Sun and Moon always existed together from the moment they were conscious they were together

[kakusu-shipping]

Ok I remember seeing a tag on a post about your fnaf s/i being a daycare kid and I wanted to hear more about that!! Also I know you favour a bitchier Sun (positive) than most of fandom and I just wanted to hear about the vibe of your selfship!!

Anon I'm hoping your still around thankyou so much for not only asking once, but asking to make sure your ask was received and then asking again when it wasn't. You dedication to asking about this is appreciated.

Warning; This is one of Regressed Me's Self Inserts so just a general read at your own risk here, bad things happen to little me's S/Is.

Post long, under the cut it goes

This one all starts back when the Pizzaplex was at it's peak. When Foxy, the Daycare's Mascot, when mysteriously missing the higher ups were desperate to get a replacement in fast. They eventually settled on the animatronic from the Theater, which was always just a bonus of the daycare anyway and never pulled in much profit.

The Sun personality was set to watch the kids during play, given basic instructions on how Arts and Crafts are done, a list of rules to enforce, and a very ambiguous code that makes the animatronics "Love Kids" that had also been used with the Glamrocks with apparent success. The Moon personality was originally set to be removed, but when that failed they just loaded him with the Naptime rules and called it a day.

The two were a rush job to fit the criteria of "Daycare Attendant" and had many, many flaws in their coding, caused both by the speed in which they were forced to learn these new rules and the failed attempt to remove Moon shocking their systems.

The two enforced their given rules with upmost strictness, the kind that most kids couldn't keep up with. No talking, no bathroom breaks without permission, no coloring outside the lines, no deviation from the blueprints, Playtime became unbearable. Naptime wasn't any better. Lights go off and you'd better be still and asleep, or at least look asleep. Sun was Mean but Moon was Scary.

Somehow though, the Daycare remained open. Years passed and the kids who once knew of a Red Pirate Fox who'd encourage them to run and color outside the lines aged out, and a new generation of little ones came under the new laws of the Daycare, and time continued on.

As stated, most children couldn't keep up with Sun's strict rules. Most is not all. One shining example of a Daycare Superstar was Emile, a 4 year old Autistic child who was left from open to close at the Pizzaplex Daycare every day without fail. His plethora of undiagnosed mental disabilities meant his coloring stayed within the lines and his toys were always sorted by color, size, and species, while his obvious parental neglect made him an innate people pleaser, willing follow Sun's unreasonable rules to a T in the hopes of receiving even a crumb of praise from the only Authority Figure who'd so much as look at him.

He was Sun's Golden Child, his most favoritest star in the sky, the most perfect kid to ever come to the Daycare. This isn't to say he got better treatment, of course, he still had to wait hours for a trip to the bathroom, and finish all his crafts for the day before he'd be given snack, and lay perfectly still and keep his breathing even during naptime. But he was still the clear favorite. The perfect child. Sun's absolute favorite.

So when Sun was given word the Daycare was being shut down due to complaints from parents well... He couldn't let his golden child be taken from him.

Emile wasn't the first kid to enter the Pizzaplex and not come back out, it helped that his parents barely made it in time to pick him up on time on a good day. The investigation into his disappearance was short and then promptly swept under the rug as the daycare was closed for the time being.

Sun and Moon always had their own secret room. It had old Theater things, unused Daycare objects, extra stock for the Gift Shop, an old arcade machine, broken glass... Everything a child could need!

Living in the Daycare was perfect for Emile, not only was he already use to living by Sun's perfect schedule, he now got to be the soul object of Sun's attention. This was not as great for Sun, as the isolation, just He, Moon, and Emile, finally let him start recognizing the problems in his coding, and the alternate meaning to "loving kids".

He grew anxious by the day, his previously perfect work as a Daycare Attendant crumbling around him. He wasn't perfect. There was something wrong with him. So wrong they'd shut down the daycare. He was imperfect, he was breaking rules just by THINKING like this, rule breaker rule breaker.

Emile, forever locked at 4 as he'd forgotten when his Birthday was meant to happen, became Sun's emotional support. He didn't understand the things Sun said sometimes, he didn't get why it was bad for Sun to hold him, or want to kiss him. He wanted those thing too after all, so it can't be bad! Mr. Sun's an adult, and adults make the rules, and Emile loves to follow rules made by adults.

During the events of Security Breach Emile helps Gregory find the generators, having lived in the Daycare long enough to memorize the layout even in the dark, and knowing all the places Mr. Moon can't go.

However, he still eventually gets caught and carried high into the air by Moon. Gregory runs to the last generator and flips it, the lights flick on just as Moon tosses Emile from the highest point of the Daycare. Sun, now fronting in the light, unclips himself from Moon's wire and dives after Emile. They both hit the ground with a horrible crash.

Sun is horribly damaged, but still manages to pull himself up and kick Gregory from the Daycare before returning to Emile's side. Emile, human and tiny and frail, succumbs to his wounds in the arms of The Daycare Attendant, who in the moment is neither Sun nor Moon but someone who cares not for rules but for the safety of the children in their care. Someone who has failed at their job as a Daycare Attendant, and will not do so again.

During Ruin I imagine the mildly decayed corpse of Sun's golden child can be found at a small table somewhere, with a tea set and stuffed animals in the chairs around him. Sun's coping well when he's fronting I think.

#Emile's Arts #Proship Selfship #Cradle Ship #TW Child Death #SURE. #dfkjghjdfghjdf I don't know why little me is like this #But he saw Ruin and went 'Wait we GOTTA match that vibe' and rewrote the entire Self Insert to be Spookier #I cause Eclipse <3 #I don't know muuuuuuuuch about how Alters come to be so I'm not extrapolating on that #I'm just saying Eclipse is like. New. #Sun and Moon always existed together from the moment they were conscious they were together #Eclipse forms later due to Trauma. #Also I don't have much on Moon's character #But my opinion is he's a lot less fucked up than Sun #Just because he got a lot less of the faulty coding #He just goes apeshit in the dark #But when he's NOT fronting he's actually incredibly reasonable and a lot more Normal #So as soon as the light's come on he too recognized he yeeted the kid and that's Not Great. And is equally traumatized by it as Sun #Sun's little golden Child <3 We have a while of being happy #Thankyou SO much for asking this S/I's shifted a bit here and there #So it's nice to have a chance to write it all down again #So thanks again!!! I had a lot of fun with this!

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

Warnings: swearing, major mentions of death and violence, spoilers, death of children, mental illness, mentions of previous torture. 

a/n: with the hunger games resurgance, I want to continue writing for these characters. I absolutely loved this series so much, it was an innate part of my teenage years. 

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

🌿ESTP 🍁Slytherin 📜Chaotic Neutral 🔮Scorpio Sun, Aries Moon, Aries Rising  

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:    

Dance Me To The End Of Love by The Civil Wars (they featured on the song with Taylor Swift in the first movie)

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿  

・You were never reaped, and never knew the personal/immediate experience of having to kill someone. However, your oldest brother was in the Hunger Games, a few years after Johanna. So, you knew the pain of losing a loved one. 

・Helping each other transition into a world where the Hunger Games no longer exists

・In a world where the Capitol doesn’t rule with an iron fist 

・After the events of Coin’s death, Katniss and Peeta go to district 12 to live out their days in peace

・Johanna still plagued by the torture and trauma she endured, didn’t know what to do. 

・No family, no friends, so she hid herself in the apartment that Commander Paylor gave to her (all living victors were given an apartment. But the catch was that they had to go through therapy)

・Johanna refused to go to the appointments. She was adamant that it was stupid, it wouldn’t help. 

・And she drowned in her own sadness 

・It took her 3 months to begrudgingly go to an appointment

・It was a group therapy session. Katniss and Peeta weren’t there as they lived in District 12 and didn’t live off of Paylor’s generosity

・It was a small group, and when Johanna looked around at the other victors, she saw herself. Hurt. Broken...the feeling of something that was taken and they could never get it back

・You were apart of the healers. Not a therapist, but a protegee underneath Ms Everdeen - yes, Katniss’ mother

・She shined in the Capitol; given the best treatment for everything she suffered 

・And you were lucky enough to be her assistant. 

・Learning the art of healing wasn’t easy

・But the opportunity was too good to let pass by 

・Ms Everdeen was a quiet woman, but when she taught, there was a light that began to shine. With each comment, lesson, tutorial and experience - she began to glow and glow. 

・But you soon learnt that bringing up either of her daughters was... bad. Her light dimmed whenever their names were mentioned; even talking about the plants was difficult for her. 

・She loved Prim, her youngest who looked like her. Who never judged her, only had love in her heart for everyone. Katniss was so distant, it felt like a death

・Johanna felt safe with Ms Everdeen. It was an interesting dynamic. She somewhat... stepped into a maternal role for the young victor. A role that Johanna desperately wanted filled but would never admit

・That’s how you met Johanna; in all her hardened exterior. Someone unloved but not unlovable. 

・Your relationship started off very clumsily; she saw you as another therapist - therefore an enemy. 

・You didn’t take much of a liking to her either 

・It was a conscious effort to be curteous 

・And Ms Everdeen pushed you toward Johanna

・Call it a mother’s intuition 

・And that intuition spurred a tight friendship. Johanna eased into your company (not without a fight) 

・You showed her moments into your world and in response, she displayed glimpses into her own

・And then you formed a tight bond. Best friends. Always doing things together, eating, spending all your free time with her

・You even inspired her to go to the therapy appointments 

・And although there were a few hiccups along the way, Johanna started to heal

・From then on she wanted to know what this new world had to offer

・ You both explored what the new Panem was, how Paylor had changed the old ways into something new. A united nation, where everyone reaped the benefits of food, shelter and safety. 

・There were no games after the rebellion. Paylor made sure of that:

   “We didn’t let people sacrifice their lives for a world where we go on sacrificing. We are one now. Panem will never be the same.” 

・Now with a new sense of freedom, you saw a change in Johanna. You knew what it was - hope

・This newfound hope made Johanna realise that ... she could do whatever she wanted. There wasn’t a reason why she couldn’t. She had survived. 

・The very next hour, she had walked right up to you and kissed you fiercely 

・It wasn’t the best place to snog; right in front of Ms Everdeen, but when you pulled apart you glimpsed over at her and saw her smile 

・Being with Johanna is like the like winter. Having a fire to keep yourself warm is cosy but when it gets out of hand - it will leave you with nothing but ashes. 

・You moved in together, a three bedroom apartment that wasn’t too far from Ms Everdeen’s place. You both felt too guilty leaving her.

・Once there was a time that you invited Peeta and Katniss to come and stay, but Peeta wrote back that Katniss wasn’t ready. 

・As a partner, Johanna is hot-headed but also playful and teasing

・She loves ruffling your feathers (never too much though, she never wants to push you away)

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔  

Complete And Utter Badass, Rather Monstrous (Johanna) x Their Ray Of Light Who Has Them Wrapped Around Their Finger (You)

Confident & Flirty (Johanna) x Has Never Been Flirted With Before, Thinks They're Just Being Nice (You)

Snarky Power Couple That Can, And Probably Will, Destroy You

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆  

You Make Me Want To Be A Better Person

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒆𝒕 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖

At first it was your last name. She would say it with such coldness, and unkindness. A forced tone that she used. On the outside she hated you, and yet on the inside... she had a burning passion for you. Through the progression of your relationship, you could tell how she felt about you with how she said your last name. 

𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆

Acts of Service and Quality Time. 

Johanna hates all that sappy lovey-dovey talk, and she’s still healing with the aspect of physical touch. So the way she shows her affection is through doing things for you and spending time with you. And then she starts to do those little signs of affection; kisses on the cheek, moving hair out of your face, wiping any food from your mouth etc. PDA is pretty much a no no. But when someone tries ANYTHING with you, then she will kiss you so hard, showing that you’re hers. She’s very protective ... well possessive, over you. 

𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 🔞minors dni!

・The first few times you had sex with Johanna, it was angry sex. The kind where you barely kiss each other, and the headboard is banging, and it doesn’t last too long. Then afterwards it’s not spoken about

・It was difficult, in all honesty. Because you felt used

・But Johanna was trying to hide a part of herself. A deeper part that she’s hidden behind a wall of imenetrable steel. A wall only she can knock down. 

・So it took time - 

・But in that time, you expressed your discomfort at the lack of a deeper connection

・And your relationship was put on hold for a bit until Johanna could open up to you. 

・Your relationship progression made sex more and more softer, intimate, slower. 

・She wasn’t so rough

・And you realised she would barely kiss you during sex. But now, with her walls down, she couldn’t stop kissing you 

・Johanna’s lips were warm, but still with an edge of savagery. Nips here and there, she loves leaving marks, bruises, and hickies.

・She likes leaving them where other’s can see - 

・Johanna needs people to know that you’re taken

・A big thing with her is foreplay. She loves making you whine, beg for more. 

・SHE LOVES TO TEASE

・Sex toys? Yes. Vibrators, strap ons, dildos, anal beads etc. She would own the lot (and you guys keep everything in your ‘sex’ drawer)

#witch the writer's headcanons #johanna mason #johanna mason headcanons #johanna mason x reader #the hunger games #catching fire #hunger games headcanons #the hunger games headcanons #witchthewriter #johanna mason x you #inclusive reader #gender neutral reader #mockingjay #mockingjay headcanons #panem #the capitol #president snow #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #finnick odair #prim #primrose everdeen #katniss #johanna mason smut #smut headcanons #mrs everdeen

[forever-rogue]

Prompt list 2: 173 and 194 with Oberyn please?! If you’re still doing them? -💫✨🌈 ps. Congratulations on your follower milestone! U deserve everything baby

Okay, soooo, perhaps this is me imagining this as Sunshine and Oberyn from INO. But totally not necessary!

Enjoy!

Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader ; warnings: soft smut (18+ Only)

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

You couldn’t help but stare across the lush gardens as you spotted Oberyn in the distance. He was taking a turn about the palace with one of his many advisors going over one thing or another, in deep conversation as his brow furrowed in concentration. He still managed to look better than anyone should have been allowed to. He was wearing robes of deep orange and gold today, barely tied at the waist, showing off his immaculate golden torso. His hair, now a mess of soft curls, was chocolate and golden under the warm sun, and suddenly you left much more flushed than before. 

You might have the privilege of calling him your husband, but he still managed to stun you in so many ways. Oberyn must have felt something, as he quickly lifted his gaze and found your eyes with his. A small smile tugged on his features as you offered up your own saccharine smile followed by a wave. Shooting you a cheeky wink, which left you hot and bothered more than anything, he turned back to conversation, as if he hadn’t just been shamelessly watching you. It wasn’t just a wink, you’d learned early on into your marriage, it was a promise of so much more. The heat was already pooling low in your belly as you turned back to the flowers you’d been tending to.

“Lady Martell?” you turned to find your handmaiden, Asha, watching you with an intent gaze, “is everything alright? You look quite...flushed. Shall I fetch you some water?”

“Please,” you gave the young girl a smile as she nodded and got ready to head to the kitchens. Her sweet innocence was enough to make you chuckle slightly, “I suddenly feel quite...parched.”

As you plucked and pruned the blossoms, you couldn’t help but think of all the sweet words and stolen kisses that had been exchanged between the two of you here. The gardens, one of your favorite places in the whole of Dorne, serving as a refuge for both of you needed a little break from the real world. 

It was where he had first professed his love to you. Where you had first told him you loved him too. Where he had first gently taken your face in his large hands, and pressed his lips to yours and kissed you until you felt like lovestruck teenagers. So many firsts had taken place in his sacred place, and it would always hold a special place in your heart. 

Just like your love had blossomed and flourished in this garden, so were your blooms and flowers, a beautiful symbol of your relationship with the prince. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Hello, my Prince,” you grinned when Oberyn walked through the door of your shared bedchambers, a tired but happy grin on his face when he spied you on the bed, wearing nothing but sheer undergarments, “I’m so happy you’re finally ready to retire for the day.”

“My Queen,” his eyes, soft and honeyed in the soft glow of the candlelight, drank you as he seemed to perk up. You patted the space on the bed next to you, holding your arms out to him, “I would have retired to your arms much sooner, had I been given a chance. Unfortunately, it seems that duties sometimes must be attended to.”

“Of course, everyone wants a piece of the prince,” reaching for the lapels of his robe as you pulled him for a kiss. He smiled against your lips, easily melting into your touch as you dragged him down to lay on the soft covers, “luckily you’re all mine. And you know, I will always wait for you, my love.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” a contented sigh escaped his lips as he looked up at you from the soft, fluffy pillows. You ran a hand through his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp, just like he always enjoyed and he practically keened into your touch, “I love you, sunshine.”

“I love you so much,” you whispered back to him, “you are everything, my prince, and deserve the world. Don’t ever doubt that.”

“I have done a lot of things in my life, some good, some great, and terrible,” he mused as you watched him closely, tracing a finger over his features before stopping at his lips, “but the best, by far, is getting to call you my wife.”

“Oberyn,” your heart felt warm, like it was about to burst with butterflies, “you are a poet in every sense of the word, but you mustn’t flatter me. I’m already your wife.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true, sunshine,” he reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to your knuckles, “you have me - heart and soul.”

“As you have me,” you promised him, “always and forever - my moon and stars.”

“Sunshine-”

“For once in your life, Oberyn Martell, please be quiet and let me take care of you - let me love you,” you quickly silenced him with a kiss, swallowing up any words he had, “lay back and relax and be a good boy.”

"And who am I to oppose my wife - my queen?" he crossed his arms and tucked them behind his head as he watched you with a grin, "as you wish, sunshine."

"Firstly," your hands went to the singular button holding together his robe and unfastened it before traveling to his shoulders as you started to push it off. He sat up for a moment to help you, and soon the orange cloth was in a pile on the floor, "you were wearing too many clothes. This is much better."

Swinging a leg over his hip, you effortlessly straddled his waist, causing him to a small, pleasured sound of surprise. You took one of each of his hands in yours before bringing them to your lips and kissing each palm in turn. When you were done, you settled them on your waist as you pulled off your sheer top, leaving you as bare as him.

His grip on your waist sent sparks throughout your whole body, and you couldn't help but arch into his touch. 

Leaning down, you kissed him softly, gently, starting at his lips before trailing kisses along his jaw and down his glorious neck. 

"I love you so much," you whispered against his golden skin, kissing along shoulders and collarbones, making sure every part of his torso received some love. You traced along each silvery scar and mark, every freckle and sunspot, before bestowing them with a kiss. You loved every part of him - every last little bit - and you wanted him to know that. 

"Sunshine…" he whispered in your ear as you nuzzled against him, his own hands finding your backside and giving it a good squeeze. You moaned lightly, wiggling your own hips against his, as you felt his hardness against your already wet folds.

"Shhh," you raked your nails along the expanse of his broad chest, "let me love you - fully and completely."

He didn't argue further or so much as make a sound as you kissed down chest and stomach, stopping only when you got to the waistband of his trousers. Taking a moment to kiss his hips, you swiftly pulled down the trousers and let them join the pile on the floor. It was a quick job for you as you pulled down your own sheer bottoms and sent them spilling off the bed.

You could feel his warm, gentle gaze take you in and admire your form - it was nothing to make you feel self conscious or uncomfortable, but a look of reverence and adoration. 

"You are so beautiful," his voice was gentle as his hands skimmed your sides, leaving fire in their wake, "perfection, more so than any god."

"Gold and honey drop from your mouth my prince," you reached for his hard, weeping cock, running it through your folds before slowly sinking down on him. No matter how many times you'd had him, he still managed to stretch you deliciously, "Oberyn."

"You are so perfect," he whispered as you laid against him, wanting to feel as much of his skin on yours as possible, "feel so perfect."

"Mhmm," you murmured as kissed his back and he wrapped his arms around your waist. He slowly rocked into you, matching the languid movement of your hips as he had you. 

You liked evenings like this, when it was only you and Oberyn, and the world ceased to exist, even if only for a little bit. There was no rush, no urgency to get anywhere, and it was easy to get lost in the pleasure of him - every touch, every feel, every sound. 

Your lips barely parted as you made love, swallowing up each other’s moans as your hands roamed the expanse of your bodies. You were quite sure you could feel the love radiating from him and onto you as he smiled against your lips. 

"I've got you, Sunshine," he whispered as he peppered the side of your head in gentle kisses when he left your walls start to clench around him, "you can let go."

His name left your lips in a breathy whisper as you closed your eyes and buried your face into the juncture of his neck and shoulders. The tight coil in your belly snapped and that familiar wash of warmth flooded your veins as your release washed over you. 

His own was close behind as he spelled inside of you, coating your walls with his warm release as a moan of pleasure reached your ears. His arms were wrapped tightly around you, as he held you close and worked you both through your highs. There was no better feeling than being wrapped up in his arms, and if you could choose to never leave them, it would have been an easy decision. 

"Gods, I love you so much," you pulled back and beamed at him, nuzzling your nose with his before kissing again. He nodded in agreement before you slid off and laid on next to him.

"I love you," he pulled back the plush blankets and ushered you under them, following closely behind as he pulled you into his arms, "more than you will ever know." 

"My sweet prince," you snuggled into his chest, resting your head just above his heart and letting the steady beat lull you to sleep, "I love you too. Rest now - everything else can wait."

"You are everything," he promised with a toss to the top of your head as he closed his eyes, "my Sunshine."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn x reader #oberyn x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #got #forever-rogue's follower celebration

[monsoonblooms12]

Hope (Ethan x f!MC)

Summary: Ethan and Pooja's thoughts before and after the first time Pooja goes to his home (Set in Book 1, Chapter 8)

A/N: Never thought I would be able to complete this, but here we are! Honestly it is a mess, but I still hope it is an enjoyable mess😃

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Rating: General

Word Count: around 1.7K

Category: Kinda angsty (??)

Trope(s): And there’s some good ol’ Pining

Warnings: None that I noticed

Ethan:

There was a strange calm in the sky, the moon sparkling milky white. Seconds seemed to drift slowly with gentle ripples, like rose petals floating on a calm pond.

And amidst this ataraxy, was a restless, defeated heart. Every pass of a second seemed like a stab in his already wounded soul, breaking him, making him lose in the game which he thought he had mastered.

The red glare of the traffic light felt like a warning but he was too tired to notice.

He let his mind recall the moments the day brought, throat tightening at one and mind filling with surprise at the other.

How easy it was to tell her about Naveen.

As if it wasn't a conscious decision, just him uttering words prophecied. And how naturally she had offered to help him.

As if they were words practised. Repeated a hundred times in front of a mirror.

In a time when one hand was slowly leaving him, another one was gently lending hers.

Never in years had he thought he would be this enamoured by an intern.

Every word she uttered, every task she accomplished, every case she handled. It felt like she was climbing a staircase of differences, slowly cracking the image of doe-eyed amateurs idolizing him.

An image that had become a constant in front of him.

It was a ploy of the universe, surely, that had twisted the circumstances to be like they were now. Otherwise what would have had the power to unite three generations of mentors and mentees together like that in a single motion?

As the sand from the sand clock kept drifting away slowly, he started to arrange the strings of thoughts in his mind into a neat yarn, all ready to knit the cardigan of recounting the disaster that he had stored like a dried leaf from fall in between yellow pages of an old journal.

There was a chilling silence around him, even if the traffic shrieked chaos outside.

It made him second guess everything, making him think as if he was supposedly making the biggest mistake of his life.

The glare of red seemed to get stronger, almost blinding, painful. He tried to place convincing statements, that he was just letting a doctor know the nitty-gritty of a medical case seemingly impossible to solve. So that he can dream of that ray of sunshine filtering through large boulder-like grey clouds.

So that he can hope.

And every time it struck him that he had been choosing to look at that sparkle instead of the black gloom spread all around because she was in this with him, he felt a numb spread through his soul.

He knew he was letting her in, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Rather, there was nothing he wanted to do about it.

It frightened him, this closeness, this letting go of a cloak of seclusion that he had been wearing for years now.

Why did life have to make him stand at crossroads, make a choice he didn't want to?

It felt as if somebody had made a path of clouds for him to reach the sun, and every time he took a step, he fell. He had never complained about it, living silently in the piercing darkness that held him within its confines.

But this one while, he wanted to shriek. He wanted to complain. He wanted to go against every force of nature that stopped him. Because this time it wasn't just a wish.

It was a need for him.

Unbeknownst to him, the lights flickered and change positions. The red seized to exist and the green came into existence, and it was a glare from behind him that finally made him notice the change.

Barely stopping the overflowing dam of heartfelt emotions, that had finally managed to break the walls he had built piece by piece, with precision, over the years, he rushed past blurry sky-risers, taking a step towards whatever destiny had in store for him.

-----

Pooja:

When she opens her wardrobe, her first instinct is to go for that chic dress she bought some time ago. The thought is quickly followed by a mental forehead smack, and she goes for a casual, everyday outfit instead.

When she followed him into the area of repairs, she would have never guessed that a simple follow of curiosity would spiral into this. She, an intern, going to the home of Dr Ethan Ramsey.

She wondered if it has ever happened before & if it would ever happen again. The answer flashed before she even had the time to ponder. It was a No.

Tying her hair in a casual ponytail, she let out a yawn, a reminder of the long day at work, and of the secret that was trapped in the labyrinths of her mind, threatening to come out anytime.

Bits of the conversation that had got imprinted on the film rolls of her mind, played continuously in a loop, reminding her of the responsibility that rested on her shoulder. The trust that he had placed on her.

She couldn't let him down.

When in hushed, muted tones, he had asked her for the promise, she had given it to him without a thought. She couldn't let him break. She couldn't let him lose.

She couldn't let him down.

Like a mantra, she let the words repeat over and over and over again until they got etched in her heart. And then, with an attempt to centre herself, she walked on to the destination she was supposed to reach.

-----

Ethan:

The cool for the air-conditioning unit covered the entire area, as the clock pleasantly ticked in a monotonous harmony.

The blue ocean of his eyes was in turmoil, waves of reason and feelings crashing against each other, ravaging a storm. The ship of his stood through it all, but he was afraid that any moment now, it would reach its breaking point.

In the distance was a clearing in the sky. A stray ray of gold attracted him, and he went on, never stopping for once. It was her presence.

He couldn't tell if they were words knitted with excruciating perfection with yarns of her heart, or a piece of cloth she had bought and handed over to him, neatly so that he doesn't notice.

But for once, he wanted to believe in the words her mellifluous voice scribbled in the air. For once, he wanted to hold on to that ray, which the clouds of fate threatened to hide.

For once, he wanted to hope.

It felt as if his search was over. A wind had finally gained the power to carry away the blanket of misery and pain that had been surrounding him for years now.

Maybe the forces of nature had finally decided to grant him the wish he made to a shooting star when he was a kid and gifted him with the most precious treasure anyone could ever ask for.

All she did was place a hand on his thigh, but it felt as if she had dragged him from the darkness to the bright sunshine, holding his hand in hers, making him relish the soft touches of flowers petals and rustle of hair along with the gentle breeze.

Is this how it felt to slowly travel through the meadows of affection, gathering flowers of trust, hope and respect to make the bouquet of his heart? One that he had given to her without telling her anything, today?

Is this how it felt to fall in love?

He closed his eyes as if to stop the circle of thoughts that had taken a direction he had been avoiding for a long time without his permission. The gardens his soul was paying a visit to, was dangerous tranquillity, a threatening calm.

And he was afraid, that one wrong step could burn down the entire world of two lives that had got intertwined without each other's knowledge.

He was not ready to take the risk.

-----

Pooja:

The pages of her journal rustled in neglect as she continued twirling the pen in her hand.

She was supposed to be writing in the details of this day, but instead all she could do was recollect fragments of all the conversations she had had during the past hours. A few tendrils of her hair playfully danced in the wind, as she got up and went to stand on the balcony.

She let the milky white shimmer dress her, soothe her as the future stood in a tangled yarn of uncertainty, too difficult to reach.

There was a pain getting etched in her heart, as it sobbed silently for her mentor and grand mentor. Was there really no way out?

A quick whisper from the demon of self-doubt told her that if The Ethan Ramsey could not solve the mystery, how could she, a doe-eyed intern?

She shook her head as if to throw the thought away. This wasn't the time of comparing whose skill set was better than whose. If she had dared to awake a lamp of hope in Dr Ramsey's heart, how could she give up on attempts herself?

In tumultuous times, when there were more chances of defeat than success, she wanted to bear the flambeau of hope that can light even the darkest of nights. She wanted to be the force that would make him rethink his abilities and try again after every failure.

She wanted to be the picture that could fill his heart with hope.

And she knew that it would take every ounce of her strength. Keeping the situation a secret from friends who had always had her back. Always looking at the bright side. Always bearing optimism.

When she had uttered "Promise" to him in the hallway in the morning, she knew what she was signing up for. This time, she would have to be the strength of herself and him. She would have to be the ear he could always whisper to. The shoulder he could always lay his head on. The hand he could always hold when he felt like letting go and giving up.

But she was ready to give it all. No matter how threatening, no matter how dangerous.

She was ready to take the risk.

PS: If you are reading this, I am very grateful for you. Thank you for reading and I hope you have a great day🤎

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#pixelberry choices #playchoices #open heart #choices stories you play #choices stories we play #choices #choices open heart #choices oh #my fanfics✒ #open heart mc #open heart ethan #ethan x mc #ethan x pooja #ethan ramsey #choices ethan ramsey #pooja sharma #open heart book 1 #open heart fanfiction #fics of the week #cfwc fics of the week #oph choices #i told the stars about queue #choices fanfiction

[yostresswritinggirl]

A Yearly Memory

~Zhongli x Reader

Warnings: None

Characters: Zhongli, Lesser God!Reader

Relationship: Ambiguous

Word Count: 1.2k words

A small drabble because I got self-conscious seeing y'all greet the Geo daddy- Happy Birthday, Zhongli hnghhh, first time greeting a fictional character kek and writing in tumblr sooo Enjoy a happy new year and let's hope this one does end happy!

Made this at 2:55 AM so don't expect much kek

Can you imagine 6000 and more years of the same day passing, taking time to organize a feast for that particular date? In their circumstance, time isn't relevant, for Gods who lived beyond a millenia. Honestly, everyone who lived in Celestia saw time as irrelevant and passing, nothing but the sun and the moon exchanging thrones in the sky for 365 rotations.

But for Rex Lapis who prides himself the oldest archon also relives those 6 milleniums ever so clearly.

And in his passing, and even before, he has grown accustomed to the importance of 'time' and 'day' and 'night'.

Yet, he stood atop a grassy cliff, overlooking the harbour of his own land where comes a perfect view of the moon parallel to where he stands.

In this particular day every passing year, he finds himself here as if pulled by the winds himself for reasons he cannot fathom.

"Morax-? Morax!" Calls from behind him accompanied with light footsteps crunching the blades of grass under it. His amber eyes only widen slightly before willing it to pull away from the waves that bounced the moonlight.

"God of Memories— (Y/N), I was not aware of your immigration to Liyue, are you perhaps here to document the coming of the annual departure to a new cycle?"

Your form finally catches up to his side, straightened after gathering yourself from what seems to be a marathon just to find him. The ex-archon besides you possessed a slight smile at the height difference. For it was ironic that despite the same age you had lived (and maybe even more for you, as you had existed whence the first memory had came), he was still very much heads above you, contrasting to him as you don a younger appearance to his olden self.

You carry with you a device he does not recognize and when his eyes bounces back to where yours shine in hidden mischief, you looked at him almost offended, incredulous.

"Mr. Newly-Retired, I've heard you abandoned your position to live among the humans you once overlooked," you didn't even bother to answer him.

He'd perked up, tensing his shoulders, ready to be lectured by yours truly. For after all it was you two left that remained longest standing in the history of higher beings, he'd known you'd feel betrayed that he had just abandoned your side like so.

He opens his mouth to explain— "And so, to start your new chapter, it's only fair we impart to you some human tradition!" and it stays open in confusion.

The glint in your eyes finally surfaces full blown and he couldn't help but relish in that cheeky smile you matched it with, arms shifting to lift the contraption hanging from your neck. "I'm fairly certain I'm accurate on my counting so

Happy 6052nd birthday, Zhongli!"

He hides his raw surprise and fluster in an airy chuckle, following your twinkling giggle as you nudged him with an elbow.

Is that why he's subconsciously sentimental of this day ever since? For it was the exact date but rolled back thousand of years ago, to when he first set foot on Teyvat?

"Birthdays... I didn't even notice, and quiet so early too. Thank you, (Y/N), I am grateful for your time and consideration." Zhongli would flash a smile so sentimental and pure that it almost brings you to your knees with the innocence it carries. He's so precious— precious!

"Y-yes, you are welcome! I would have brought some fresh silk flowers as a gift," he'd tilt his head in silent inquiry as you once again fumbled on the rectangular box, "but such gifts wilts too easily, swept aside in just four days! Too quick and easily forgotten." Now the god before you would love to protest, for everything you'd leave behind for him will always be immortalized in his heart and mind.

"So I created this thing over here! I call it a Kamera!" Despite his confusion over the contraption, your triumphant grin only sends him fluttering and urging you to continue. For others it was a rare sight to see someone else do the talking when Zhongli was part of the conversation, but the man in question also enjoys lending an ear, indulging himself especially when it comes to knowledge he has not heard of. "It freezes a moment in time, capturing it in a parchment to be kept forever. As your first celebration, I wanted to capture it clearly for us to look back to together! Like so!"

Without another word, you had grabbed his forearm to urge him lower, using the same hand to loosely wrap around his neck. He'd almost had to kneel from the height difference as he stumbled upon your forcefulness when a click and a fragment of light sounded from afront before he could get his bearings.

"Tada! Oh look, you look so good in an image, it worked perfectly!"

Your energy matched a very particular person Zhongli had to deal with but yours were refreshing and contagious despite the nigh hours of the night.

He had patted his sleeve straight as he watches you mercilessly flap a piece of paper that somehow appeared on your hand. He has questions, a lot, and he was once again interrupted by you: shoving the paper to his face like it was a trophy of a competition you'd been waiting for your whole life.

It was a portrait but accurately colored and captured to a size as big as his palm. Your arm around his neck with a wide, closed-eye grin while looking straight ahead and him (clearly unprepared) with an obvious surprise and touch of obliviousness, glowing amber eyes slightly trained to your profile.

He was glad he was a professional in keeping a calm composture, because he saw just about the most obvious red dust on his cheeks, now immortalized for everyone who sets their eyes upon on the paper to witness.

"Ah, I'm so happy it worked even when I had to rush it to be on time! Here, keep this, as your birthday gift!" You practically shoved the device and the image to his arms with buzzing excitement and pride. "Happy birthday, again!"

An advance technology constructed with the sole idea of being a gift for him? His appreciation is beyond words that rendered him speechless and you patiently watch him take into account everything that has been thrown at him.

"Zhong-zhong... you're too quiet—"

A snap and a flash blew your pupils and forced you to cover your eyes to rub the spots dancing in your vision. He was a fast learner but damn, he could have warned you of his impulsive ministrations.

As you whine over your semi-blinded state with jumbled protests spewing out of your lips, the man before you holds a euphoric smile over the new paper clutched between his fingers.

It was the best gift he'd ever received in his lifetime.

"Thank you, for this and everything. I hope you know how deeply I appreciate you."

Morax's smile, the God of War, however faltered at the edges when he saw the darkened stare looking down upon him. The twitch of your eyebrow makes a sudden sweat fall off his.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact zhongli #genshin impact oneshots #zhongli #zhongli x reader #exile.flower

[minachuuu]

Something About the Sunshine

❣Something About the Sunshine❣

❤ Pairing: Ryujin x Reader

❤ Genre: Fluff

❤ Word Count: 4.2k

❤ Song Suggestions: Surf & Nobody Like You by Itzy and Something About the Sunshine from Starstruck

Literally everyone but Ryujin found suspicious the amount of times she had been repeating the words 'It's just a friend's trip!' when asked about your upcoming vacation together to California. Her bandmates laughed the first time, but by the twenty-seventh time they were around to hear it they just mockingly imitated Ryujin. They were a hundred percent sure every single employee on JYP knew she was going on a ‘just friends’ trip’.

But it’s not like they didn’t notice how Ryujin’s eyes glow when she’s talking about you, how she messes her hair when somebody asks her about you, or how she goes from the fiercest and bravest person when you are being attacked by a nasty spider minding its business on wall, to the softest and clingiest girl when she cuddles with you on movie nights.

Maybe the ‘it’s just a friend’s trip!’ wasn’t trying to convince anyone, but herself.

The day arrived, and you were sitting in Itzy's living room, waiting for the car to arrive to take you both to the airport.

Yuna sat down by your side eating a tuna wrap, still wearing her night suit and the messiest mane you had ever seen. You were very used to seeing them all like that, since you are really close to Itzy, others have even mistaken you for their manager since you are basically always around them.

“Want some?” The younger girl extended her snack to you courteously, her voice still raspy from being awake so early.

“I’m okay Yuna, thanks!” You tried to hold back a giggle at the sight of Yuna clumsily existing at five o’clock in the morning. “Why are you up so early?”

“Schedules, practices, couldn’t stop thinking about this wrap…” She got lost in her own subconscious as she stared at the piece of food embraced by her hands. “It’s not even mine, but why would someone leave it abandoned in the fridge like that?”

“The car is here!” Ryujin rushed out of her room with her suitcase in hand. She fashioned a huge smile and a weirdly big enthusiasm for this time of the day. “Time to go Y/n!”

You stood from the couch, scrambling the younger girl’s hair to which she just looked at you drowsingly dumbfounded. You both headed towards the door carrying all your luggage.

“Have a nice trip! Bring me a gift, and don’t come back unless you’re dating” She whispered the last part, urgently took another bite of her tuna wrap and a smirk teasingly appeared on her mouth.

The last thing you saw was Ryujin throwing a beanie straight to the younger member’s face before closing the door behind her. 

Even though the flight was long, the 12 hours passed swiftly in between naps, movies and little scattered conversations with Ryujin. You could talk about anything all the time and never get tired, but couldn't fail to see something bothering her, deep inside her conscious the entire journey. 

After picking up your luggage and grabbing a taxi to your hotel, the effects of hour difference and the hustle of the trip started to dawn on you. And you were both so tired that you failed to realize the room they gave you had only one queen-sized bed. It still wouldn't have bothered you, you both had shared even smaller beds before. 

Ryunjin jumped into the bed as one should, patting the side for you to join her. You laid beside her, as she wrapped her arms around you. Both not hesitant to fall in a deep slumber. 

The clock marked 7 O'clock, and a little ray of sunshine peeked through the disheveled curtains and rested over your eyes, waking you up with its warmth. You stretched your body grasping your reality, this was not your house and you were not in Korea anymore. Carefully stretching your body, you recognized the presence of the girl beside you. Turning around, you saw her calm and resting expression, the image plastering a smile on your face. 

You silently rose from the bed, tip-toeing towards the sunrays. You warily slided open the door to the balcony, being welcomed by the sights of a waking city, illuminated by the dawn of a new day. That's when suddenly you felt a pair of arms surrounding your neck. The familiar embrace made the moment even more special, as you took in your hands those that rested in your chest. You stayed there in a comfortable silence, feeling Ryujin's breath and smile forming against the back of your neck. 

"Hey…" Ryujin broke the silence first. "Sorry about what Yuna said back home, she was just-" 

You released a light chuckle, finally having the answer to her worries. "I know Yuna, she's not the serious type." 

"Yeah…" Even with a weight lifted from her shoulders, Ryujin couldn't help but dwell on the matter. "I guess she was just joking." 

"But hey, we didn't come here to be locked down in the hotel room, did we?" You turned around, jokingly punching the other girl's arm. "Let's go!" 

"Twelve hours of flying are pretty heavy," She watched your enthusiasm fly as you scattered throughout the room, grabbing some things from your suitcase and heading to the bathroom to take a shower. "Are you sure you don't want to stay a little more and-" 

"Oh, c'mon!" You grabbed her by the hand, shaking her mind up. "We'll just go for a walk, grab something to eat. It's not like we're going to Disneyland right now."

"Sounds good to me!" Ryujin didn't hesitate to match your enthusiasm and rushed to get her stuff ready. "Where do we go?" 

"Actually…" You fidgeted your hands playfully. "It's a surprise."

-❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️-

“Venice beach?” Ryujin’s eyes grew as big as the moon. “This is where I-”

“-filmed the Nobody Like You music video!” You both said at the same time.

“Yes!” An eager smile was painted across your face at the sight of the shimmer in the other girl’s eyes. "I thought you might like coming back…”

"And I prefer the company a whole lot more this time!" Her fingers interlaced with yours as she chuckled at her joke. "Please don't tell the girls I said that."

"I'm texting Yeji right away-" 

"What, no!" Ryujin threw herself for your phone but you reacted quickly, prompting a whole game of tag for your phone. 

"Hi Yejiii-unnieeeee!" You started a voice note at the same time that you tried out-running Ryunjin in the still calm paths of the boardwalk. "The flight was fine and we landed perfectly! The hotel is very cosy and the sight's amazing. But Ryujin just said that she prefers me over yo- AH!" 

You felt your body be wanked from the floor, your back landing against the sand. Your phone flew from your hand, and Ryujin dove to reach it, landing beside you. An endless stream of laughter followed, one of those that make your eyes tear and your belly ache. Ryujin made sure the voice note didn't send, but to her bad fortune, Yeji had already listened to it and typed her response: 

Glad the trip went alright! And don't worry, we already knew Ryujin prefers you. Not only over us, she prefers you over anything or anyone really. 

Ryujin's cheeks flared up as she read the message, the laughter in her disappearing abruptly. She sheepishly handed your phone back, playing nervously with her hair as you read it too. 

"Awwww!" You mockingly teased her, wrapping your arms around her head. "Do you really love me that much??" 

"I… Well, maybe, yeah- I don't know-" She couldn't even finish a coherent sentence, trapped in between her nerves and your teasing. 

You stood up, still giggling at everything that just happened, glaring at the fine line separating the sky from the sea as it shined a light blue with little hints of orange and yellow as the last minutes of sunrise bathed you in their light.

This gave Ryujin a perfect view of you, as your silhouette was perfectly enframed on the sun rays hitting your body. She smiled at the way the sun rested on your soft cheeks, your smile competing against it for the brightest thing in her life. 

It started dawning on her, that maybe it was true. Maybe she did prefer you over anything and anyone. 

"Care to give me a tour Mrs. Shin Ryujin?" You proposed with a fruity and jestering voice while extending your hand, breaking her daydreaming. 

She took your hand as she stood and shook away some sand in her clothes. That Ryujin from the hotel room who wanted to rest and who was a little too much inside her head banished in a matter of seconds, pulling you around the stores and streets she visited with her group mates. You weren't complaining at all, aside from being Ryujin's best friend you were also a huge fan of Itzy. Always present, front row on their performances, shows and even sometimes rehearsals. And there was nothing better than listening to an excited Ryujin showing you around and retelling her memories with the glow in her eyes reflecting all the light of the vibrant place. 

You walked among the shops and food stands, halting in front of a familiar stand, with displays full of sunglasses of different shades and shapes. You both tried a thousand different styles after finally deciding on a matching pair. A round dark frame with the crystals tinted to each of your favorite colors. You kept walking along that ally, hands intertwined as you pointed to all of the little details you found along the way.

“And here…” Ryujin smirked teasingly at you, stopping in front of the skate rental where Itzy got theirs when they filmed the Nobody like you MV. “It’s where the fun starts.”

“Oh no.” You pushed her away from you, a nervous but playful giggle escaping your mouth. “There’s no way you’re going to get me on one of those.”

“You asked for the full Itzy Experience Tour didn’t you?” She lowered her new sunglasses to glare at you teasingly. 

“I- Yes but…”

“Then it’s time for you to learn how to skate.” She turned around, quickly renting a pair of skateboards from the man tending the local. She came back, holding the skateboards on each hand, handling you one of them with a triumphant smile. “Here Y/n, I even rented the helmet, knee pads and elbow pads in your favorite color, they will match with your glasses!”

“It’s not like I don’t like how they look Ryujin.” You sneered, taking the board on your hands. You examined its weight, hesitating to put it on the ground. “I don’t know how to ride one.”

“Oh I know, I’m going to teach you!” She confidently rejoiced in her talents, as she fastened the safety equipment around her body. “If I was able to make you dance Wannabe, do you think I can’t do this?”

“How many times have you rode one of these?” Ryujin stopped her movement at the question, clearing her throat pretending not to listen to you. “Ryujin-ah…”

“Maybe like…” She stood up, her face trying hard to convey a sense of security but only managing to sound arrogantly sweet. “...Once?”

“That’s it, we’re dying today.” You laughed as you put your safety equipment on, shaking your head in disapproval at yourself, since you still were willing to do anything for the girl in front of you, especially when a hit of her puppy eyes started peeking out of her.

“Okay first, one foot. Straight.” After you were both equipped and ready, she started demonstrating on her own board, stepping with her left foot on the board, turning around to make sure you were following the instructions. You imitated her movements with so much less confidence. "Now, you'll push with your right foot and…" 

You only watched baffled, your body refusing to move as she glided through the plaza with no problem. Pleasantly surprised and relieved that she still had the muscle memory to remember how to stay on top of it. A smile emerged in your face at the sight of your bestfriend making an effort to keep herself going, giggles filling the air as she circled you with ease. You took your phone out to capture the moment, and the instant Ryujin noticed the camera, her idol-self came out, acting with charisma at it, flustering you with the winks and smirks she gave to the lenses. 

“C’mon, now it’s your turn.” She approached you defiant, confident. Her presence and attitude helped you grab a bit of courage, but not enough to start without a little bit of help. 

You innately searched for Ryujin’s hand, not surprised when you realized she was already offering to take yours. You firmly put your left feet on the skateboard, and pushed gently with the right, helping you glide, as the girl beside you jogged at your speed. You tried again, now gaining more speed, and then tried once more. The sea breeze hit your face, rampaging your hair, a big and refreshing change from the city air you were so used to breath all the time back home. Your body flinched at the velocity you were traveling to, but Ryujin didn’t let you fall, her support helping you stay on.

“You have absolutely no permission to let go of my hand Shin Ryujin.” You babbled, holding on for dear life to her hand which was probably the only thing keeping you from falling down.

“You know I never would.” For a moment, all those worries in Ryujin’s head dissipated. You blushed at her words and she smiled at your sun-kissed image. 

It had a certain charm for her, you needed her protection and guidance, as she only focused on you staying alive and having fun. You stopped for a while, ecstatic at the thought of still being alive after that. 

“You are a very quick learner. Or maybe I’m just an excellent teacher.” Ryujin joked, earning a slap on her arm as she helped you stabilize yourself to get off the board. “I think you're ready to go on your own.”

“I only could do that because you were grabbing on to me!” You whined.

“I’ll be close to catch you if you fall.” Her smile was kind, protective, the kind that made you melt into everything she said. A big part of your friendship was teasing each other non-stop, but when it came to serious matters, there was no one out there you trusted more than Ryujin.

“Promise?” You trembled.

“I promise.” 

You, a little bit more confident now, repeated the steps to get over your skateboard and you pushed, gently. When you stabilized your body over the moving board, you repeated but with a stronger push. With a bit more confidence now taking up, you started steering with the weight of your body, your nerves releasing themselves in the form of giggles. 

You noticed Ryujin skating close to you, now skillful enough to be focusing you with her phone while gliding around to get some pretty takes and pictures of you. She cheered, a wide grin adorning her face as little wrinkles appeared on the edges of her eyes, the way they did when something made her stupidly happy.

You were so focused on Ryujin’s antics and she was so into you too, that you failed to see a slightly raised sidewalk straight in your path. Ryujin caught a glimpse of it just in time to jump towards you, surrounding your entire body with hers. With her feet landing first in a patch of grass, the scenario of you both flying through the air and landing into concrete was avoided. But thanks to the speed your bodies carried and you not being able to stop them, you still tripped down, Ryujin falling on her back and you right on top of her. You were quick to raise your heads, realizing they were only a few inches away, blood rising, coating your faces in red.

“Maybe I should-” You were quick to get up, no scratches or bruises in sight. Ryujin seemed free of injury too, so you extended your hand to help her up. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t worry. I’m totally okay.” She took your hand and stood up, fixing her clothes. Her hands instinctively wished to check you, and help you fix yourself too, but a certain tension that filled the air stopped her from doing so. “Are... are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine too.” You responded, fixing your hair yourself and avoiding her glance.

Ryujin went to pick up the skateboards, leaving the silence between you lingering for longer than it should. While walking back, you both caught a glimpse of each other’s eyes, making you release an stressed giggle, easing the ambience around just a bit.

“Let’s take this back and grab something to eat.” Ryujin proposed as you walked side to side back to the skates rental, an strange and awkward quietness encircling your steps.

-❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️-

You sat cuddled between Ryujin’s arms, the sights of the sea in front of you as you both enjoyed the beach, snacking on some american-flavored chips that you found on a K-mart along the way.

“Close your eyes.” You playfully demanded Ryujin.

“Why, what are you going to do to me?” She asked.

“I’m going to give you one of these flavors randomly and you have to guess which one it is!” 

She obeyed, closing her eyes and releasing you from her embrace as you reached for your target. You grabbed one chip from the five bags sitting in front of you and gently placed it on Ryujin’s tongue. She opened her eyes at the instant flavor that filled her mouth, confused and maybe even a bit disgusted.

“Is it really that bad?” Your laugh bursted at her expressions.

“No, it’s just that-'' She kept chewing the chip, her face contorting even more with each second passing. “It’s interesting?”

“That’s what people say when something tastes bad but they don’t want to be rude about it” You kept laughing, looking at her amusingly. “Well, what flavor do you think that was?”

“I’m gonna say…” Her eyes and brows exaggerated her thought process as they playfully moved up and down. “...salt and vinegar?” 

“No, Pickle-flavored!” You raised the bad of chips, triumphantly. “I told you these were a bad idea!”

“No! I had some hope for these!” She grabbed the bag from your hands, disappointment in her eyes as she examined the chips closer as if that could magically enhance their flavor for better. Ryujin extended the bag to you. “Here, try one and tell me what you think.”

“After seeing your face? I’ll pass, thanks” You pushed away her hand with the bag and her eyebrows furrowed.

“You can’t make me suffer alone! The chips thing was YOUR idea!” She started throwing one of her usual tantrums, shaking the bag in front of your face now. You kept throwing your head backwards and she answered by leaning in even closer, mumbling her complaints in a cute tone. Neither of you noticed when, but suddenly you found yourself laying under Ryujin. The instant she realized your position, she stopped her fit and the blush in her cheeks flared up.

“You have some-” In your attempt of diffusing the situation, you reached your thumb towards her lips, paralysing even further the girl on top of you. She couldn’t take the flood of ideas invading her mind that the sight of you staring straight at her lips, caressing them gently created. 

She quickly sat up, distress all over her face avoiding looking at you as much as possible. You were both just friends, nothing more. Why do those ideas start appearing now? No. Why was Ryujin not able to suppress those ideas now as well as before? 

You followed her, looking straight at her conflicted face now being illuminated by the sunset in the horizon. Your hand reached for her chin, gently pulling it to meet your eyes with hers. You felt her breathing halting at the action, to what you offered a delicate smile.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” You skipped the ‘something’s bothering you’ talk, you knew your best friend enough to know she would deny everything, try and cover anything. 

“Yes, I know…” Now Ryujin’s eyes were the ones who could decide to rest on your eyes or in your lips, with even more ideas invading her mind. “I just don’t know where to start.”

“Would it help if I start this time?” You smiled even wider, hiding the amount of courage you were trying to gather inside your mind. 

Ryujin looked at you perplexed, as she expected you to keep pushing for her to talk but got this instead. She shook her head remembering your question, to which she nodded as an answer.

“It’s not new, I’ve been dealing with all of this for a long time but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. And maybe it’s not even the best time to tell you, giving that there’s an entire vacation together at risk…” You started mumbling, your eyes diverting all around you as your train of thoughts backed up from the enthusiasm. 

“Hey…”  She used your techniques against you, grabbing your chin and raising it to meet her eyes. Your nervous rambling woke up Ryujin’s protective side, as she now offered you an uneasy smile. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You deadlocked your eyes on her, serious. You jokingly slapped her arm for using your own weapons against you, but like a magnet, the silence between you only called for your eyes to be lost on hers. You couldn’t tell thanks to your nerves, but you were getting your faces closer with each second passing. A deep sigh from Ryujin’s side broke the tension, aided you to gain back your courage, you were going to blurt it out now or nev-

“I like you. Maybe I could even dare say that I love you Y/n.” Ryujin sputtered first, avoiding your eyes. Your breath halted, earning a gasp at the sudden confession, bringing your hands to your open mouth. Your mind was way too shocked to remember how to properly function, paralysed in the moment. At the awkward silence created, Ryujin gathered all her body strength to look back at you, her mind racing a thousand miles per hour to find a way to save the moment. “It’s okay if you don’t return-”

“Shin Ryujin, I was going to tell you that!” You moaned playfully, the entirety of your body relaxing now as you could help painting a huge smile across your face.

“You- what?” It was now her turn to be astonished. Your unusual response made it even more confusing to her, as the scenarios that her head created were of totally different colors from the one presented in front of her. It wasn’t until you stopped nervously giggling and locked eyes with her again that you realized that you had to explain yourself.

“I love you too dummy.” You cupped her hands in yours, happy tears blurring your sight from excitement. 

“Oh. OH!” Ryujin’s whole face illuminated as the facts dawned on her, her worries floating away with the sounds of the sea in the background. She released a chuckle as she confidently put her hands around your waist, pulling you closer. “Does that mean I get to-”

“Yes! A thousand times yes!” You giggled, not even bothering to listen to the rest of her sentence, knowing exactly that what followed was something you’ve waited for a long time.

Ryujin excitedly cupped your cheeks, pulling you towards her. Your lips clashed with urgency, dancing at the rhythm of the tropical music in the background of Venice Beach, earning a smile from both that could only be eased as you joined your lips each time after breathing for air. The warmth of the sun setting in the horizon, filled your bodies from head to toe, as your beating heart took care of the inside. 

Time is never the first thing that counts when you’re sure you just found the love of your life, but when you parted your lips again and looked around, the lamp posts started turning on, some neon signs from the stores behind you started coloring the streets. You sighed, resting your head on your girlfriend’s shoulder. A comfortable silence surrounding you both, with everything but your heartbeats synchronized resonating in the air.

“The girls are going to lose their mind when we tell them.” You broke the silence first, sighing at the idea popping in your head.

“We’ll worry about them later.” She laughed as her mind painted the picture too. “Let’s keep this between us for now, we’ll plan a prank in the plane back home. Deal?”

“Deal.” You chuckled at the suggestion, glad that your best friend was back. And even better than before, cause now you get to kiss her whenever you want.

The last rays of sun lighted you both like a spotlight in the end of a show, but what it really felt like was the beginning of the best adventure, by the side of the most amazing person in your life.

#girl group scenarios #girl group imagines #itzy scenarios #itzy imagines #ryujin imagines #ryujin scenarios #itzy ryujin

[ecrivant]

aria | eren yeager

(eren yeager x reader)

in a rare moment of solitude, eren is haunted by his own profundity, and as the daylight’s death begets a cold, blue night, he hears a song which reminds him of home.  you are there to comfort him in his sorrow.

a quiet, slice-of-life character study of eren 

word count: 1.9k

“Sorry.”

Said in passing, over-the-shoulder, noncommittal and blunt, as you brushed by him in the cramped street. Pushing his shoulder back with yours. Brusque.  ‘Sorry,’ stated in the same way one uses ‘How are you?’ as a greeting—marked by insincerity and non-involvement and an implicit obligation to fill silence with niceties.  The collision was enough to knock him off balance, and he, torn between reactions of castigation and quiet indifference, found any possible words caught in his throat and could only let out a graceless and choked sound in response; and you, having carried on down the street without a second glance, did not hear him.  He scowled and collected himself and looked behind him in one single movement—though he figured you had long since disappeared from view, he also realized, even if he had spotted your form over his shoulder, he would not have recognized you among the swaths of people packed into the street. The crowd itself some featureless and amorphous unity, and you, both in it, lost and of it, a part.  All together indistinct.

Within the minute following he could not remember your face or your clothes or even your voice, every tangible aspect fleeting save for the lasting impression of a tactless interaction with another.  He thought of the way you had unceremoniously pushed past him and inexplicably flushed, humbled by this reminder of his insignificance.  To feel unimportant was now so foreign to him.  He was struck with an impression from his childhood—the pervasive feeling of inconsequence which once plagued him, a feeling against which he fought so hard—and he found himself thinking on it wistfully.  A yearning perhaps not for the feeling itself but for the idyllic milieu it imbued.  

He disposed of his own profundity, for now.  He could not think on the past without being consumed by longing.  He externalized himself.  

Brisk was the afternoon air as he ambled through the town in the eve of winter.  The comfort inherent to a year’s closing.  The late months were always a welcome change in the face of such blistering summers, though these days, all but the seasons seemed stagnant.  Or perhaps he was simply jaded.  Today he had earned himself a rare moment of solitude under the guise of searching for a birthday gift for Armin, informing the others he lacked trust in their abilities to keep the present secret.  A quest which led him to the town market, a charming and bustling plaza of commerce that seemed entirely separate from the rest of the world.  A breeziness so unfamiliar to him.  He would once despise this population, filled with the unaware and apathetic, but now, their ignorance, in some way, enviable.  

He went where his legs carried him.  Partially aware of his surroundings but more preoccupied with himself.  He came upon a bookshop, front window rife with leather-bound fiction.  Through the cracked door, a draft of must and leather and paper, aged and stained.  Homey. Smells reminiscent of that book Armin once presented, in childhood, whose contents were at one time of so much interest. The scent of forbidden knowledge. The building’s edifice, familiar—all wood and stone and slated roof, indistinct among the surrounding architecture.  Grime burrowed in the dips of the stone exterior. He touched this roughness as he stared through the shop window.  Each book had its own red-ribbon marker, a fiery tongue laid tame between parchment and words inked by those with greater minds than he.  As he entered the shop, he understood Armin’s affinity—the smells, the quietude of dampened sound, a tangible embrace.  One could lie on these grounds and sleep for eternity, for in this shop, surrounded by the unspoken intellections and lamentations of others, time lulled and itself seemed to arrest.  As he browsed the shelves and scanned words and names so alien to him, he was overcome by the realization that he was entirely a stranger to Armin’s interests.  He shifted from foot to foot and thought uncomfortably on it—there was something odd about the idea of discovering something new about someone with whom you had spent your entire life.  With Armin he had shared dreams and agony—why was this so foreign to him?

He exited the store emptyhanded and self-conscious and resolved to ask Armin about the books he liked.  He despised the fact he had never taken the time to do so, regardless of whether it was a fault of his own or a byproduct of their present reality—existence marked by suffering and few peaceful interludes.

It was dusk now, the sun having set and given way to bluish twilight, and the street was sparsely populated, and the air, now bitterly frigid, seeped through his clothes and settled on his skin.  He was not ready to return to HQ and instead found himself wishing for an endless solitude. As he walked down the street, one so different from that which was there earlier in the day, he forced himself to just feel—feel the way his footsteps, uneven on the cobblestone, felt in his ankles, his knees.  To feel the weight of his arms by his sides, the way they dragged his shoulders towards the earth.  To feel the way the night air numbed his fingertips and spread throughout his form.

Was this numbness anything like death’s aftermath?

Surely not.  Living numbness was like silence, for silence was simply wordless sound, the world’s ceaseless and gasping breath, absence rather than nothingness.  Death was an abject void.  Nothing any living being could conceive.

When the time came for him to disappear, as much as he convinced himself he would rescind control willingly, he knew he would resist.  Something in his nature, something deep and uncontrollable, so verily feared death—as it was in the nature of a priest to venerate his God, or the nature of time to continue unremittingly and remorselessly, this fear was intrinsic and implacable.  And one day, when he was to finally meet Death, she there to take him as she had so many others he knew and loved, he would be unashamedly afraid, and he would finally know himself fully.

His thinking was interrupted by song—one hazy and incoherent, an amalgamation of lyric and wordless vocalization, yet so deliriously familiar.  Echoing off stone, through the streets, a ghostly resonance.  Memories returned in swells—the warmth of the kitchen on a summer’s day, the rumbling laugh of his father, the taste of tea and soup and fresh-baked bread, his bedroom, pitch in the night, moonlight on walls, the smell of clean laundry, sun caught in his mother’s hair.  His knees collapsed beneath him; his hand, outreached to support his weight.  He gasped and blinked away tears and did nothing to fight against the paralysis that has overtaken him.  The tune, ephemeral and carried by a winter zephyr, was pervasive, without origin, and settled over the street like some aural mantle.  It ended suddenly, cut off by a voice before him.

“Are you all right?”

He did not answer, could not answer.  The silence, muffled.  He finally looked up and saw you, though he did not recognize your face.  You repeated your question, concerned, forceful, and laid a hand on his shoulder.  Through fabric, he felt your warmth; he could not stop the tears or his trembling inhalations.  Your touch was so gentle, within it, compassion so plethoric.  As if he were a friend, a lover.  

You sat him in the street and sank down beside him.  Shoulder-to-shoulder.  The hand that wiped at his face did little to stop his tears.

“It is okay to cry, you know.”

He shook his head in denial and sobbed again, and you simply and calmly restated your sentiments—an aphorism in which he was meant to find comfort.  The night, now marked by his quiet cries, seemed desolate; moon and sky entire occluded by clouds.  The street on which he sat was painted in undulating shadows, casted by a sole streetlamp illuminated by an orange and curling flame.  Your arm, draped over his shoulder, made him cry more—when was it last he was held like this?  He turned and buried his face in your shirt and breathed in your scent, one of oak and tea and personhood, and relished in the sincerity of your embrace.  To offer him comfort was not your bounden duty—you simply rested with him and offered your arms out of compassion.  You hugged his form tighter as if you too craved the contact.  

You quietly reassured him, of what you did not know, but he nonetheless absorbed your words.  He felt known by you, a stranger who immediately unmasked him—a type of intimacy which could only be shared between those who did not know each other.  So rare and unlike the closeness of friends.  You were at once warm and familiar and homely, and new and exciting and alien.  You were not his friend and did not feel like his friend, yet neither was required of you.  You, to him, in this moment, were something entirely different.  

He wondered what you thought of him.  A pitiable child?  One who only knew inconceivable loss and sorrow?  You would not be incorrect to assume either.

He had stopped crying long ago yet you still held him.  And he, you.

He pulled away and looked at your face and absorbed none of it before he leaned forward to kiss you. A chaste contact, testing.  He flushed, and warmness crept into his chest as you stared at him, eyes wide, unmoving.  A misstep driven by yearning you within him engendered.  He turned away as you leaned forward to meet his lips again, so your nose bumped his cheek, and you then engaged in an unwieldy dance to reorient your bodies to kiss.  Your laugh, awkward and choked and fragile.  

Then he was kissing you, and it neither amorous nor lustful.  And though he did not know what to do, the kiss itself static and somewhat unnatural, it was comfortable, placid, effortless—effortless like swimming with a current or laughing with a friend or returning, just before nightfall, to the warm embrace of a quiet home.  To him, you were intrinsic.  

Your hands on his face, gentle and warm and familiar, wiping away tears.  

The lamplight burned low when you finally pulled away from him.  

“Find me, again.”  

Your touch, a gentle graze of his browbone.  And with it, you kissed him one last time and smiled and stood and walked away and were engulfed in a dense and inky blackness the light did not penetrate.  

He rested his chin in his palm.  Imagining it was your hand, your touch.  

He did not move from his seated position on the street, and he stayed long after the lamp burned out, and the clouds in the sky cleared to reveal the domed firmament rife with stars, and the night’s death bore the dawn light, and he thought of you.  And as he walked back to HQ, stumbling as if inebriated, he still thought of you.  And when his friends demanded, voices frantic and concerned, where he had been all night, he responded that he had needed to be alone, and only he knew that his apparent solitude was feigned and untrue, as it was suffused by your presence, both tangible and incorporeal, like the way the night is both a darkness and an ambiance.  

That day he asked Armin about books and sat closer to his friends and allowed Mikasa to touch him and tend to him.  And though he could not return to the town the next night or week or month, your final words, spoken only for him, remained in his heart, a stranger’s implicit promise, the addendum: “And I’ll find you, too.”

—

hi!  thank you so much for reading!  been a little strapped for motivation and write-good juice lately, so i hope this isn’t pure garbage.  or, if it is garbage, i hope it is at least enjoyable garbage.  as always, feedback is very much appreciated.  (am thinking abt making this the first part of a long-form piece, lmk if that sounds appealing?  may do it or not do it regardless of what people say, cause that’s just how i operate xoxo)

i have a bunch of requests lined up, which is so so exciting!  thank you to everyone who sends me things.  it means the world xoxo

masterlist

taglist: @flam3bird

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan x reader #aot imagines #aot x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x you #eren jaeger x you #eren x you #eren x reader #eren yeager imagine #writing!

[moonbeamsung]

CRΣΣKS

Love, a second glance, it is not something that we need.

member: jeno

au: guardian angel in disguise!jeno x gn!reader, guardian angel au

word count: 3.4k

genre: angst

warnings: character death/loss, profanity, no happy ending, mentions of religion, questioning/loss of faith

recommended song: 715 - CRΣΣKS by the nor’easters

author’s note: Please be very careful with volume when listening to the song (above) that inspired this story! But even without reading the lyrics/listening, the fic will still make sense, and happy reading :)

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @starryktown

The wind is whistling, weaving in and out of the tall river reeds like an invisible needle and thread, stitching itself into each and every crevice of the world’s gift called nature.

Another one of its many gifts is the young boy that’s resting beside a rushing brook, toes dipped into the cool water and face illuminated by the sun as it beats down onto the earth with celestial strength.

Well, a gift from the heavens, that is.

Sent from the endless skies above, Jeno is your guardian angel, assigned with posing as a humble peasant boy in the village, all to keep a watchful eye on you from afar. In his human form, he spends his days wandering the cobblestone roads and narrow alleyways between the quaint buildings, with no family to return home to at dusk. A sunny meadow on the outskirts of town becomes his home, and he takes refuge in the shelter that the overgrown grass provides.

Everything is going smoothly, and he’s doing his job just as he should be. It’s routine now, waking up and rising from his earthen mattress, curtains of copious plant leaves letting in the sun’s rays. He finds you, observes at a comfortable distance, and that’s that. At its core, being a guardian is really an easy job. A predictable one.

A monotonous one.

Until one day you approach him, youthful eagerness in your eyes piercing and nearly painful, even to his invulnerable body. He’s never seen you up close before, only on the near horizon as you’ve gone about your daily chores, tending to the housework just like any obedient child should.

“...Who are you?”

Now, Jeno is faced with a decision more challenging than any that us mortal beings have to make in our entire lives. Engaging with one’s assignment is an extremely dangerous path to take. Unimaginable punishments await, should the guardian make a wrong choice. But Jeno was careless, and he had allowed himself to be discovered by the only human on Earth that the divine forces permit him to be seen by.

He makes the fatal error of answering you, ultimately shattering a future he’ll never get to live out, one that he doesn’t even know he would’ve had. Like a sharp rock being thrown at a church’s stained glass window, the meticulously carved pieces of his worldly existence fall to the ground with a deafening crash, broken beyond repair.

“I’m Jeno,” the strikingly majestic cadence of his words is like that of angel trumpets, the sound ringing in your head and making you dizzy with both fascination and infatuation.

And just like that, in three short syllables, you’re both fated to fall before you can even spread your wings.

From the moment you hear his name tumble from those beautiful lips, you’re hooked, and he knows it. He sees it in the way you look at him, in the way you act, the way you talk. A child experiencing a first and a forbidden love all at once.

It breaks his heart, because he knows it can’t, and shouldn’t last. The churning rapids of the creek nearby weep for him, for they know that in a matter of just a few short years, their waters are destined to mix with the salty tears that will steadily cascade from your trembling chin.

Jeno remembers, although vaguely, the brief amount of time he spent living amongst the clouds, being prepared by the heavenly elders for this expedition of a lifetime, quite literally. He remembers the scriptures, the strictures, and all the times he’s been warned of the severe consequences that come with immorality.

But even the purest of young angels aren’t infallible, still susceptible to compulsions that lead them to sin and defy their creator.

Relishing in the fading daylight, you join him by the water’s edge, listening to his soothing tone as he answers your ceaseless inquiries with harmless little lies as white as heavenly robes and cherub wings.

Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. The first sin.

It’s interesting, he thinks, that despite looking after you in the endeavors of your youth for quite a while now, he knows next to nothing about who you truly are. Actions may speak louder than words, but how can he know that if he’s never heard your voice to begin with?

As the quiet, languid conversation shifts from his purpose there to yours, Jeno learns that you’re very content with your life, taking pride in helping your family with daily tasks as well as assisting your neighbors in the close-knit village with theirs.

Just then, all the smears of dirt and scattered scratches adorning your face catch his attention, gained after hours of hard work. No amount of water is ever enough to scrub them off of your skin at the end of the day, no matter how hard you try. Sometimes, you feel tears prick your eyes as you try to fall asleep at night, frustrated with your lowly appearance and how it never seems to match your relatively optimistic outlook on life.

But Jeno doesn’t care. You’re breathtaking even in his eyes, the eyes that belong to an actual angel. If that fact alone isn’t enough to boost your confidence, he doesn’t know what else possibly could.

Like a fool, he lets himself drown in your sublimity for a moment, marveling at the ethereal glow of the sun on your smooth, ageless face. The faint noise of wisps of air blowing gently through the meadow and rustling the flora makes him drowsy, but the sight of a pure white heron landing gracefully on the opposite side of the riverbank brings him back to full consciousness in an instant.

The bird, an omen of sorts, had been sent down from Heaven, conjured up from a fleeting idea and into a physical reality, by the holy beings looking down upon the earth, indicating that they’re well aware of the threat he poses and just how close he is to making an irreversible mistake in regards to you, his assignment and assignment only.

The heron abruptly unfurls its delicately feathered wings, as if frightened, before taking off and floating away on the breeze, both of your gazes inexplicably drawn to it as it flies until it’s out of sight altogether.

It warns him of just what he’s messing with, exactly.

This is not a part of the creator’s plan for you, for him. Falling in love with the one an angel is supposed to guard is an appalling crime to commit in the eyes of the elders that inhabit the sky, in the eyes of God. Though it doesn’t explicitly go against a commandment or biblical law, it’s just an understood rule. It’s wrong.

Jeno tells himself this, and continues to do so over the many years that he looks after you, never acting on his emotions, only acknowledging them before sending the less-than-acceptable thoughts into the depths of his conscious mind. He only wishes he had a key to lock them up and forget he even felt them in the first place.

Even as an angel, he ages just like anyone else, the both of you going from kids to teenagers and then nearing the young-adult stage of life, with you remaining blissfully unaware of Jeno’s true identity all the while. It’s a miracle he’s managed to keep his secret for this long, honestly, but like grains of sand in an hourglass, your time together is running out, whether you like it or not.

Not even a year before your entire world, your entire reality comes undone before your very eyes, Jeno feels as if his has already done just that. Because you’ve found someone. And that someone isn’t him.

He hates the feeling of jealousy, despises it with every fiber of his heavenly being. But he can’t shake it, can’t bear the way it clings to him like an unwelcome visitor. An unrecognizable emotion, one so foreign that he can’t even put a name to it, is stirred up at the sight of you in their arms, so pure and so unworthy of this person. Boy, if he didn’t know any better, Jeno would swear that you were the angel.

With each day that passes, he begins to feel the final shreds of both his dignity and his self-control slipping away, lost to the familiar breeze that whips through the village, stronger than ever these days. He can no longer contain it within himself. He wants you.

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods. The second sin.

How ironic that a Sunday, of all days, is when everything falls apart.

The sun is hanging low in the sky, just barely grazing the horizon with its bright beams of warmth as it steadily rises, bathing the world in a soft yellow glow. You can also see the moon leftover from the night that ended not so long ago, fading fast but visible nonetheless. Two complete opposites, so close but prevented by the laws of nature for coexisting in the same space, at the same time.

Maybe, just maybe, if you knew just how much you had in common with the celestial objects above, you would have clutched the hand of Jeno a bit tighter yesterday, intertwined your fingers a little more closely with those of someone who had become the closest thing to a best friend that you had ever known. You admit that you wish he could be something more, but you know better than to push your limits.

You got tired of waiting to see if he felt the same way, choosing to fill the void with someone else that you liked, yes, but who just wasn’t the same as the boy who had always been there, waiting in the meadow every morning without fail. Still, your emotions are ever-alert and always searching for any sign of reciprocation within Jeno.

He’s nowhere to be found when you reach the water’s edge, the edge of the creek where you wasted away endless summer days and frosty winter nights, colorful spring afternoons and brisk autumn evenings.

This morning would seem no different than the rest if not for his absence. The knot in your heart loosens, but not by much, when you spot him at the forest’s edge, looking weary.

Jeno notices you and calls out your name with a smile, but something about it isn’t genuine. It’s pained, desperate, like he wants to hold onto this moment forever, unwilling to carry out the plan he’s already regretting. It’s too late now, he thinks to himself, but he’s wrong.

It’s been too late for years.

“Jeno?”

“This way!” He chokes out. It’s somewhere between a sob and a plea, but there’s no time to figure out which is the more appropriate term. He disappears between the trees and amidst their mossy branches, blending in with the shadows cast by the thick canopy of leaves, and you break into a sprint, afraid of losing him to the merciless wilderness and what lies within.

Thankfully, he’s not too far gone. A small clearing greets you less than a dozen strides in, and in the very center of it stands a glass gazebo, run-down and covered in so many twisting vines to the point where the small structure is almost fully consumed by the nature surrounding it.

The scene is beautiful, so much so that it makes you uneasy. What’s going on? Why did he bring you here? Why does he seem so sad? Jeno is never sad, maybe he could be described as brooding or solemn on the rarest of occasions, but never this melancholy, never so utterly hopeless in his expressions and his aura.

None of these questions are answered, even as he takes your hands in his own and leads you inside of the gazebo, its see-through panels catching the light with elegance and ease.

“I need to tell you something.” Just like it did the first time you heard it, his voice still shocks you like a bolt of electricity, your blood pressure and heart rate skyrocketing. All of this is heightened, though, by grim tone he’s speaking to you with.

“What is it, Jen?” There it is. The nickname you made up for him that, although simple, makes him feel like he’s on top of the world. Actually, scratch that: it makes him feel like he’s floating in the sky, up past the clouds and even further away from this cruel planet than the heavens are from Hell.

You’re only making this harder for him. He might as well just spit it out, because all this waiting is agonizing for the both of you.

“We... we can’t be together.”

The sentence that leaves his lips is two declarations wrapped up in one singular statement, the first being that he wants to be with you in the same way you want to be with him. It’s much too hopeful, misleading your emotions down a path of elation instead of dread. The second is unpleasant, a bitter taste lingering on his tongue once he says the words.

“...Yes, yes we can, Jen, because I don’t really love them and all this time it’s been you—”

“You don’t understand,” he tries to stop the confession spilling out from your heart before it overflows, drowns you. “I’m not who you think I am.”

Stunned to silence, he gives you a moment to drink in the implications of his words. “...I’ve known you for over half of my entire life, and you’re trying to tell me I have no idea who you really are? Not a chance,” you laugh softly, shaking your head and glancing down at the wooden gazebo floor, old white paint peeling under your feet.

“But haven’t you ever wondered why I’m always there by the creek every morning? How I turn up throughout your day at the perfect time? How I’m suddenly right by your side when you need me the most?”

You have wondered. Many times, in fact. But the possibility of him being anything other than human was not at the top of your very rational list.

“...Don’t you see? I’m your guardian angel.”

He sees you blink, realization dawning on your face like the sun and stretching your features. “There are laws—” He begins, but your reaction is not the one he anticipated you would have to that information.

Too overwhelmed, you can’t respond with anything other than physical actions, no matter how unreasonable, and you press your dry lips to his soft ones, sealing your fate. Standing there, with beams of golden light infiltrating the space and illuminating your unsteady figures, Jeno is petrified not by your kiss, but by the fact that he doesn’t push you away, and his hands hold onto yours even tighter than before. Nothing has ever felt so right in his entire life. Not when he was in Heaven, and not in all the years he’s spent on Earth, either.

You’re his Heaven, this moment is his eternity. Jeno has endured enough temptation, the undeniable thrill that a deliberate sin promises has become too much for him. If he pulls away now, everything would still be okay, you could both go back to normal and pretend this never happened. But alas, he was doomed to kiss you back from the beginning, and so he does, and you have no idea what the universe has in store when you feel his lips finally respond to yours in the most unholy way possible. For the first and last time, you indulge in each other’s touch and taste, and it does not please the ones watching from above.

The third and final sin, one sin too many for him to remain in this world without consequence.

Several things happen all at once. A clap of thunder sounds overhead, though there are no clouds in sight. Jeno is painfully ripped from your grasp and thrown out of the gazebo by some invisible force of nature, into the grass and dirt on the forest floor.

And inside of you, a piece of your soul is torn from your being, bile rising up in your throat as you comprehend the excruciating sensation that racks your body with pained whimpers.

Stumbling to his feet, Jeno heaves, hunched over and close to tears. Suppressing the agony you still feel, you hurry over to him only for the boy to charge away, heading back towards the open meadow. With a broken shout of his name, you follow.

You didn’t notice before, but now the blinding light reveals the condition he’s in. He looks almost normal, but the edges of his form are becoming fainter by the minute, blurring with the rest of the world around him. He’s fading away before your eyes, and it’s all your fault.

It’s a torturous experience, watching him slowly meld with the emptiness of the air. Making him disappear into thin air in an instant would have been an act of mercy, a mercy that’s apparently beyond the capabilities of the spectators in the sky.

Struggling to maintain your composure, you force a question out. “What’s happening?” You ask, though you know he doesn’t have an answer himself.

He’s obviously panicked, though he tries not to show it. “I... I don’t know, I knew that it was forbidden for us to fall in love but I didn’t think I’d be robbed of my existence like this...”

“What?! No, Jeno, please don’t go...” You beg the gods and angels above, if any exist. You don’t know anymore.

If there is a God, how can he be good if he’s taking Jeno away from you like this, depriving you of the one constant source of joy and comfort in your life?

It’s far too cruel to bestow such a kind and generous heart upon someone who isn’t allowed to love in the first place.

Even Jeno’s touch is faint, making you feel like he’s not there at all. You just barely detect the pads of his fingers smoothing over your cheeks, trying to stop the water spilling from your eyes. He smiles sadly, “Don’t cry for me. I’m not worth the tears.”

“You’re everything to me, Jeno. You’re worth every drop.”

“Remember me like this, okay? By the creek,” he gestures to the turbulent waters a short distance away. Walking slowly, he begins to take steps in its direction, but as he speeds up you’re no longer able to match his pace. “Jeno, turn around...”

Glancing back at you for the final time, he whispers a goodbye that the breeze carries away with it, the sound something only the two of you would hear, one that could never be replicated.

“Goddamnit, Jeno, don’t you dare leave me!” But you know you can’t hold on, you’re not strong enough. A greater force wants you two apart, unable to be overpowered by one human, a relatively insignificant being in the grand scheme of the universe. He vanishes completely.

You fall to your knees, the pain from the pebbles digging into your legs and feet underneath the surface of the creek numbed by your sorrow. The water drenches your clothes, splashing up onto your skin and becoming one with your relentless tears. You’re left all alone, with only the cattails to keep you company. You wish the waves would just swallow you whole so you don’t have to feel this suffocating isolation.

In an unnecessarily harsh trick of the light combined with the dancing shadows generated by the water, you swear that you see Jeno again for a second, sitting on the riverbank like always. You sob louder.

It takes forever for you to find the strength to stand up again, water running over your soaked shoes and threatening to topple you over. You wouldn’t mind if it succeeds.

Inconsolable even to your closest friends and family, you reluctantly return to the village, unwilling to leave behind what you’ve just been through and unable to explain just why you’re crying so hard. Maybe if you stay there forever, spending each day and night waiting among the reeds and the flowers and the grass, he’ll come back someday, but no. He’ll never return, but you simply can’t bring yourself to accept this fact.

You’re never quite the same after that. Part of the curse that haunts you for the rest of your life is this: no matter how hard you try to retain your memories, you’re destined to forget Jeno eventually, leaving vast gaps in your brain when it comes to the years of your youth.

You’re left with only a feeling of inexplicable nostalgia at the sight of the meadow and the creek running through it, the waters still as violent as they were on the day you lost him.

#kpopscape #neo-constellations #starryktown #nct #nct au #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct 127 #wayv #nct dream fanfic #nct dream scenarios #nct dream au #jeno fanfic #jeno angst #jeno au #jeno x reader #jeno scenarios #jeno imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #angst #nct angst #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct dream angst #lee jeno #nct drabble #jeno drabble

[carewyncromwell]

“I howled at the moon with friends And then the sun came crashing in -- Wo-o-o-o-o-oh! Wo-o-o-o-o-oh! But all the possibilities: no limits, just epiphanies -- Wo-o-o-o-o-oh! Wo-o-o-o-o-oh! I'm never gonna look back -- never gonna give it up, no -- Just don't wake me now... This is gonna be the best day of my life... My li-i-i-i-i-ife!”

~“Best Day of My Life,” by American Authors

x~x~x~x

Hey guys! This is the first in hopefully a set of Singles Awareness Valentine’s Day posts I want to do that will feature each of my kids with someone that’s close to their heart. To start with, here’s something for my unofficial-teacher!HPHL!vampire, Bartholomew “Bat” Varney! This drawing is going to take some explaining...

A few years into Bat’s friendship with DADA professor Atticus Grimsley @cursebreakerfarrier​, Bat came up with a fun idea of something he and his mate could share together. By trading some information about dragon breeding to an interested wizard, the vampire got his hands on a Patented Daydream Charm, a type of commercial spell that didn’t exist when he was a Hogwarts student and didn’t currently have the magical ability to try out himself. Bat brought the Charm over to Atticus, suggesting that they use it together so that he could show the professor what Christmas was like at Hogwarts when he was at school. Atticus himself had never indulged in such a charm before, given his austere upbringing, so it didn’t take much to coax him. Sure enough, when Atticus cast the charm using the box’s instructions, he and Bat were soon enveloped in an amazingly realistic recreation of Hogwarts’s Great Hall, decorated in a 1770′s-worthy Christmas.

In Bat’s day, Christmas trees weren’t really the thing they became in Britain and America from the 19th century onward. Instead the Great Hall was decorated much more modestly. Instead of fairy lights, enchanted icicles, and baubles, it was decked with holly, ivy, evergreen branches, mistletoe, white candles, and handmade wreathes decorated with fruit, pinecones, and ribbons. The students dancing around the open floor also twirled around in large communal dancing, constantly switching and sharing partners rather than sticking to strict, formal pairs. It was, in short, a casual winter’s ball hosted and arranged almost entirely by the student body, rather than prepared or moderated by any members of the Hogwarts staff.

Because it was all a daydream composited from Bat’s memories, though, Bat didn’t appear as the tall, auburn-haired, red-eyed vampire Atticus knew. Instead, as he always appeared in his own dreams, Bat resembled his true self -- his curly-haired, dark-eyed past human self, Robert Harker. It was something so second-nature to Bat that Atticus’s hesitance at the sight of him immediately made him feel self-conscious, but before Bat could daydream himself to look more like his “real-world” self, Atticus stopped him, saying that he looked fine as he was. Atticus’s support reassured Bat more than he could properly express, and Atticus noticed afterwards how much happier and freer his usually laid-back friend seemed as he grabbed Atticus’s hand and pulled him out toward the dance floor so he could show him around the entire Hall.

At one point, a pretty girl with a strawberry blond updo and a pretty pearl-white dress encouraged Atticus to dance with the other people on the dance floor. Perhaps because it was a shared daydream, Atticus was able to pick up the steps relatively easily, and to Bat’s surprise, Atticus turned out to be a very talented dancer who soon danced circles around him. It was only after the dance was over that Atticus realized who the girl he’d been dancing next to must have been, when she dashed off to the side to greet a very tall, blue-eyed, auburn-haired boy who’d just arrived -- Cecelia Crouch-Varney, Robert’s ex-best friend and the real Bartholomew’s wife, who had cursed Robert into the form of the vampire he now knew as Bat. Cecelia and the real Barty had been such a fixture in Bat’s memories that they were there even without him consciously thinking about it. Atticus had a bit of trouble looking at the pretty young woman with anything other than disapproval, given how much she’d hurt Bat, and he frankly had no idea how his mate ever could’ve found it in his heart to forgive her, even after over a hundred years.

Bat then suggested that Atticus “take him to one of his parties” next, in their daydream. Atticus was hesitant, since he really hadn’t gone to any big social events at school. Eventually, however, he settled on a private ball held at the Grimsley family estate, circa the early 1880′s. This particular event was hosted by Atticus’s father to “present” Atticus as the heir to the Grimsley legacy before the family’s other well-regarded Pureblood associates. It was also the first time Bat ever laid eyes on or learned much of anything about Wulfric Charles Grimsley -- and from the moment he first laid eyes on the old man and took in how he hovered like a cold shadow over a much younger Atticus, whispering reproachful reminders in his ear as his claw-like hand sank into his son’s shoulder, Bat found an icy hatred settling into his chest toward Atticus’s late father. Because the man was dead and Bat could sense Atticus’s discomfort at how intensely Bat watched the image of his younger self and his father, the vampire didn’t overtly address his feelings, instead shifting the conversation. Since Atticus was both a professor and a talented dancer, it was only right that he show Bat how to dance something next, yes? And if his younger self wasn’t going to get much chance to dance at this party...well, they’d just have to rewrite the night properly, with Atticus dancing as much as and however the hell he wanted. And so Atticus, laughing despite himself, led the slightly taller Bat in a Viennese Waltz alongside the twirling couples of his past, the memory of his father and his lonely younger self slowly fading away until they were no longer there at all. 

“You’re really quite good at this, Grim.”

“Always the tone of surprise.”

Although the daydream only lasted an hour and Atticus had to very quickly restrain Bat and help feed him a lot of blood after they returned to the real world, it remains one of both men’s happiest memories, as a time when they got to share a part of themselves they hadn’t with much of anyone else and (at least in their own heads) be in the kind of close proximity that normal friends could. It wouldn’t be until many years later with the invention of the Blood Pop that Bat could really touch anyone else, so until that day, this was the closest Bat had ever been able to get to interacting with his counterpart “Grim” as if he were an ordinary man.

#my art #bartholomew varney #atticus grimsley #other people's mcs #cecelia crouch varney #wulfric charles grimsley #I actually hope to draw some modern!au of these two in the future where they're reincarnated into the golden era #I am SO looking forward to some 1990s fashions y'all #plus these two can actually be friends at school and bat can help his pal grim break away from his awful father while that bugger is alive #and that way you guys can get to know both barty and cecelia better too! #poor cecelia made a lot of mistakes in her original timeline and she had her glaring flaws but she was hardly a villainous person #however much she became 'the villain in bat's history' :( #plus the real barty was a cinnamon roll too pure for this world and his friendship with bat makes me happy

[nattspencer]

You finally came

Missy x Reader

Summary: The Reader is trapped and can’t see Missy for a lot of months, until the Time Lady can finally find her beloved.

A/N: English is not my first language, therefore I’m really sorry for any mistakes, let me know about them. Writing this was really fun and I had the opportunity to actually talk and meet who requested it, that was really awesome, you are really awesome, so I really hope you like and that this little thing brightens your day.

Warnings: Mental games, prison, lack of freedom, mention of anxiety and depression.

Word count: 2k

Not my GIF

    The part you miss the most is the sun. Not only the brightness, the warmth, but also the way it paints the sky in orange and pink shades when it dusk and dawn. You miss the sky too, so gorgeously blue, all tones of it, changing slyly throughout the day, so imperceptive to the busy rushy lives below. You remember just laying for hours in the green grass in your childhood just to see the clouds, all different shapes and forms. Not to mention the smells, the fresh air, the leaves, petrichor. It brought you so much peace and you just miss everything.

    It’s just so very dark outside. No moons, no suns, no planets, just the black abism of the universe. It could drive someone mad. Maybe it’s driving you mad, maybe you just can’t see the difference between the telepathic illusions and the reality anymore. Who are you trying to fool? You are mad. Definitely human minds are not made to be frozen in time, or to be tortured by some sadistic maniac, and no, this time you’re not talking about your sadistic maniac, actually, all you desired was to see her face one last time. You’re talking about some other creature, some that you never even saw the face, but it was there, deep on your skull.

    Seems ages ago when it all happened. You and Missy were chased by a platoon of Judoon for months, and no matter what you do, they were always there, every time closer to catch the entire TARDIS with both of you inside. It was on one of these times that they finally got you in their hands. The Time Lady had fried the ship’s dematerialization circuit on the last escape and the spare one was a bit too difectful, she then contacted someone on some market that she didn’t have time to explain quite well to you, but of course, it was a trap. As soon as you got your hands on the piece, you were surrounded by Judoon's troops, all you had time to do was to hit her vortex manipulator, before they blocked it. The very last contact you had with her was though the psychic link she held on you.

    “I’m sorry Missy, I love you.” Seven words. That was all you were allowed to say until they blocked it too.

    There was no escape left, and in a blink of an eye, you were transported to their ship, completely surrendered. Even in such a situation the Time Lady didn’t leave your thoughts, how she could ever live like that, all the chase, all the trouble, there’s no use in both of you getting caught, so you made a decision. She gifted you with all time and space, it’s time for you to give something to her in return. You begged to the rhino creatures to let you serve her sentence, one prison two sentences, quite a good deal to be honest. From far behind  you an ice monotone voice agreed, it seemed to be the contractor, all was set to stone.

    Since then you live between the stone and metal walls, with only a little barred window where you could see the abism of nothing, sometimes you like to just stare at the little distantes spots of stars and try to connect the dots to form images, it was a good way to pass the days. Lights in the ground made the place backlighted and it was almost a bit cozy if it wasn’t all that existed there. You wish your body was working properly, almost all your metabolisms were frozen in time, probably only your brain were still working to keep you conscious, and it took months for you to relearn how to turn off and sleep but still you miss the taste of food. God, what wouldn’t you give for a piece of chocolate.

    As much as sleep makes you forget you’re here and numbs your pain, it also scares you to death. It wasn’t unusual for you to get nightmares, at times it felt that you weren't sleeping at all, the difference between them started to get fuzzy as the days passed by but Missy was present in every single one of them. Sometimes she would just laugh while she breaks all your bones, sometimes she would just spend hours mocking out loud all your flaws, insecurities and talking about how much she contempt you. Sometimes you saw her choking to death, sometimes she killed you, well, this last one stopped occurring these days, maybe they ran out of ideas, there’s a limited amount of ways to kill someone and you think you experienced them all.

    However, sometimes you just pretend she was there, plastic and static like a picture.. You would talk to her about your day, your difficulties, just to see another face around helps, especially that one you loved, although an answer never was expected, it reminded you too much about the nightmares. Sometimes you just imagined her laying with you on the floor of your cell and staring at the roof while you remember all the adventures you had with her, all the time and space, all the creatures, all the running and most of all, all your moments together. Even if you were just a casual sex to her, she was way more to you.

    Another ordinary day passed by, this time the nightmares were harder then the usual and you were afraid of everything. You would be crying if your tears hadn’t dried so long ago, now you were just writing on the wall, it became quite therapeutic thanks to the chalk you held in your pocket, but you only used it when it was really necessary to write your feelings down, too afraid that it could end when you needed the most. Suddenly a noise was heard and a new shadow could be seen by your side. It was happening again. You didn’t dare to look.

    “Y/N?” Missy’s voice called your name and you couldn’t suppress your body from recoling “Y/N!” The sound of her heels getting closer to you was deafening. Your elbows rested on your knees and your hands covered your head turning your body in a tiny little ball of fear. You were ready for the first assault when all it came was a caress stroke on your shoulder, still, you shivered in terror. “Hey baby girl, it’s me, it’s just little old Missy.” a gentile voice spoke.

    “It’s not, you’re not real, she didn’t come for me.” You said in a tiny trembling voice.

    “I did. I was looking for you restlessly, poppet, I finally found you.”

    “You’re just another mind game. What are you gonna do this time? Kill me again? Break all my bones? Tell me how disposable and useless I am? Go ahead, I’m waiting.” You’re getting sick of it, all you suffered wasn’t enough?

    “Oh baby, I’m so sorry about what you’ve been through… it’s all my fault, I shouldn’t let you come with me to that shop. Please look at me.” Her hand danced carefully between your curls. It’s been so long since anyone touched you like that.

    “Please, please go away or ruin me. I can’t take these games anymore. Please don’t give me hope, that’s all I ask.”

    “He’s dead, Vansell is dead, I killed him myself.” Her voice was bitter. “Neither he nor anyone will ever put their hands in a single hair of yours ever again. I promise.” Vansell? You never heard this name before. Finally you glanced at the woman kneeling by your side. “I could feel you know... all your pain, all your misery from our psychic link. I was powerless, completely useless, he blocked all my answers, I couldn’t send anything to you and that killed me. Please Y/N, believe me, I’m here. Truly. We can leave.” She was fully bared before you, no mask, no mocking, that was purely her. Suddenly a smell caught your nose.

    “What smell is it?” You couldn’t contain the question inside your mouth.

    “I-it’s your perfume. It reminded me of you” Her eyes drifted from yours in embarrassment and then it was the first time you allowed yourself to truly look at her. Missy was ruined. Big black bags laid beneath her tired blue eyes, her hair was frizzy and falled roughly from her coiffure, she was almost without any makeup, all seemed to fall out with time. You couldn’t imagine any of that, not the way it is in front of you. 

    “It’s really you?” Your voice was muffled with fear.

    “It’s me, baby girl, we can go home.” The Time Lady’s voice was cotton-candy soft.

    “I’m scared.” You stated frowning.

    “I know you are.”

    “I don’t think I can move. I waited for so long but now I’m just too anxious and terrified to do anything.” It was confusing, your body was confusing.

    “I’ll be by your side. We are going to have very difficult days, but I’ll be there. I got you. I’ll be your safe place, just like you became by when I needed the most.”

    “Y-you don’t have to. Just leave me on the earth, you don’t need a broken pet.” Your heart skipped a beat, you could never be so special to her.

    “The very last thing you said to me was ‘I love you’, let me prove to you that I feel that too. You became way more to be then just a pet, Y/N.”

    “You really came.” There was no doubt, even in your sweetest dream you could imagine that, your self-loathing would never allow you. Finally you let yourself smile, the first one in months.

    “I did. and I’ll always come to you.” Your faces were close, and slowly she leaned over you and met your lips with hers.

    This kiss was definitely different from the others you shared with her. It was slow, delicate, sweet, as if nothing matters to her more then be there with you. Her hands cupped gentilly your face and you could feel her hearts beating fast through her palms. Her tongue danced the most private waltz with yours, showing with every single moviment how much you meant to her. The entire world faded to you, there were no problems, no insecurities, no fears, it was just you and your safe place. Only when you two were complete out of breath your kiss was broken, and she rested her forehead in yours.

    “I can calm you down with a bit of hypnosis and we can go home, how does it sound?”

    “Oh, so you haven’t used it yet.” 

    “No. I would never use it without asking permission. You’re far too important.”

    “Then do it. I want to go home with you.”

    The first nights weren’t easy to go through. You were too afraid to sleep and suddenly realize you’re still on that cell and this wasn’t more than a dream, too afraid to wake up one day and realize that Missy wasn’t there. However, the Time Lady was indeed always there for you, dealing with every single one of your fears, lulling every single one of your nights, helping you with teas and hypnosis whenever it was needed. With time, bit by bit, you were getting back to be yourself again. And then, you asked to see one of the things you missed the most, the sunrise.

    Missy took you to the most marvelous place you ever saw. She was too excited that you wanted to leave the TARDIS and see something that, for her, it needed to be perfect. And it was. Two wonderful suns raised up upon the green valley mountains and warmed your skin, the sky was beautifully painted by orange, red and pink shades like in a masterpiece. The fresh wind blows your hair and fills your lungs with joy. Your favorite Time Lady wrapped her arms between your waist and rested her head on your shoulder standing behind you. Suddenly the realization falled on you, you’re finally free. A great view and your girl, that’s all you could ask for.

    You are free.

#missy doctor who x reader #missy doctor who #the master x reader #missy/reader

[yetremains]

Today, his anticipation grows again akin to the days that have followed the few hours they had shared together. Hanzo Hasashi’s heated kiln of love and affection growing not too unlike of a flower that sprouts greeting spring with blooming petals, awaiting to be plucked and placed in a vase for only an individual’s eyes. Growing as in the moon revealing itself after its long slumber, only for it to meet the sun for a brief glimpse and perhaps a peck on the cheek. Then arising again and again, hoping for an eclipse where the two of them shall share the same sky. Now if that fabricated construct of love could last a lifetime, that, that would how Commander Hasashi would describe the hope he has been storing in the depths of his heart and soul. 

How does their love feel? It’s the gentle lap of waves on both of their bodies; it is the quiet beauty of the horizon when the sun sinks, even as his conscious would give away in the exhausted listlessness and burning aches and pains; it’s the sudden breathlessness when he realizes he’s no longer ashore, but adrift, even in his unconsciousness and delirious fevers. Everything around him would sharpen, and as long as his tenacious life would allow, everything would seem bearable, because he may find himself drowning in melancholic depression, but the sea is, and still remains, tangibly warm. 

It used to be so difficult to admit it even to himself, and it hurts more to say it out loud. Hanzo Hasashi couldn’t be happy without her. I can most likely live, but I wouldn’t be able to laugh and enjoy my life to the fullest. A part of me will continue to churn scorching flames, as it remains gravitated towards the spectral dead and slaughtered, instead of the living comrades and people needing of my protection, and I still remain torn asunder between the two disparate worlds. 

Hanzo’s naivety may have been gone forever, and his innocence may be stained sickly red, but his intentions are pure and impassioned as the Commander slips a cautious grasp over Operative Yang’s hand. “We need to talk, Talia,” his enliven muscles respond to him, and all his veins, memories, and vital beats coursing through his entirety concentrates on her, and her reaction only. He should be thankful that they remain in privacy; in their respective office spaces, but without any prying eyes. “I have always had self-restrictions on everything that I do, however, when I am with you, such pre-existing boundaries and limitations cease to exist. There is nothing of you I can resist, and I hope you feel the same towards me."

While there had always been this comfortable calm between two kindred spirits, a way one or another could keep the other in a place of comfort simply by presence alone, there was this unspoken or unacknowledged building tension of some sort. An ever growing give and take of deeper desires alongside contentment with what existed within the current conditions. Between a loyal soldier for a commander, or equal warriors, and into a trusted companionship of support it would continue to push the lines between them. Never once would she back away from such situations if Hanzo needed her. At any time.

But at the same time it was almost concerning for the woman. As much as the warmth was so welcoming and she had wanted nothing more than to protect that soul she’s become so endeared to, there was that concern to nag at the back of her mind. That fearful whisper that could weave its way through the subconscious as if it were a snake prepared to strike with it’s venom of doubt and trauma, to drive deep a reminder that could have everything very well be merely a self projection of desire rather than a measure of truth or worth. And still hope was something that never could be snuffed out, burning bright in the darkest of times. Yet never acted upon.

It was one a quiet day working over papers, and Yang having brought the Commander some extra coffee, when that wave of soothing feeling came over as it always does in a time of reprieve. Fuzzing the boundaries ever more with the undisturbed quiet that could be found within the late hours in these offices. No one truly lingered let alone having few to do so. In moments such as these was when the tide of the heart would raise back in, to take her away on it’s currents without a life raft, as if she’d need one with how willing she was to be swept off. The ties of the heart tugging like a constant pulse beat between the threads of her traitorous spirit. Now then there had been moments when she had wanted to divulge the hunger of the mind, share her own internal struggle tug-o-war. But never could find the right moment.

A smile had been given at Hanzo with so few words to exchange within the quietude. But it was his hand upon hers that drew Yang’s full attention now, and then sharp clarity of her focus when he had outright said her first name with such surprise. For it was not often that anyone said her name anymore, it was only ever her identification for full mix. Not such a personal choice and it had an effect near instantly. Her full body turned towards Hanzo in this shared space.

But the final shared words were what, for once, had rendered the woman speechless. After so long spent between the two of them she could glean his deeper meaning behind each words, the poetic way he would deliver his conversations, alongside how those brown eyes that never lied and captured her gaze every time. There was a way someone could describe a heart skipping against the tightening of a rib cage as if it were trying to play a broken melody, but in this case it would be impossible to truly place as such, when every single thought had simply skidded into a halt to throw every other reasoning out the proverbial window, as to now live in this moment without distraction.

Hazel eyes softened while her hand shifted and turned just enough so that her grip could mimic, return, the hold upon his own, fingers to gently lace between one another with a tender motion. “Hanzo,” she begins with her voice soft, still regaining mastery over language once more as her smile grows, alongside a darkening of her skin just slightly. Pulse skipping with every beat. “I am for one, see the proverbial lines blurring further each day. And shall do nothing to stop that.” Yang then lifted their held hands, and brought his knuckles close, gently pressing her lips upon them for but a moment. “If I did not feel the same towards you, would I welcome you so willingly into my arms? I’m nothing more than a drawn in moth to your ever glowing flame.”

So long as he would accept her, broken edges and all.

#sasorikigai #-Brothers In Arms || kathexismania #-Hope burns bright || Younger years #(( slams down some soft tender shit for you. )) #(( with just a seasoning of slight angst from yang. )) #submission

[ephemerlskies]

thank you, colmar | myg

⇢ pairing: yoongi x reader

⇢ genre: drabble, established relationship, so much fluff it could be mistaken for a cloud...., very mild angst, long distance relationship, writer!yoongi

⇢ word count: 4.5k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, this is very PG to be honest

⇢ summary: long distance was a challenging feat to take on, though you and yoongi were sure you two would be the exception. since his leave, you had been counting down the days, hours, and minutes until you finally got the chance to visit him. little did you know, this visit was going to become the most memorable weekend of your life.

a/n: i can't even explain myself i'm SORRY.... but i am literally the softest yoongi stan ever known to man. it had to be done. this was purely for my own indulgence lmao. also yoongi? france? a concept.

Do you know the feeling of being outside during a sunset? Telling yourself, ‘I’m going to watch the sunset this time’ and being so sure that you won’t miss the sun’s gradual sinking beneath the horizon. Then, during the mess of dusk and life, you do miss it; the sky darkening before you can even realize the sun has already bid its farewell to the sky today. And, maybe if you spent less time ensuring that you would enjoy the sunset rather than simply enjoying it, you wouldn’t have to scold yourself to pay more attention tomorrow.

That’s how life felt with Yoongi.

You’d been caught up with existing, along with the countless sporadic surprises and thick responsibilities that came with it, and maybe you had taken the moments spent with him for granted, the moments you once promised you would cherish as they came. But what’s the good of regretting the past when it felt far less burdensome to just appreciate it all? Even when the time with Yoongi brisked by, as if it had somewhere better to be than right here with you, the memories were still there to cherish, retrospectively.

When you found out Yoongi had seized the opportunity to study abroad in a small, French city just a car ride away from the German border, you felt like you, again, had only been able to see the rounded edge of the sun before it ducked beneath the land; then it was gone.

You tried to be happy for him, you were happy for him, and you shoved your newfound resentment of France and Colmar, the city he’d be residing in for the next two years, into a shameful yet not so secret compartment of your brain. Your smile had worked against you, becoming transparently saddened when he told you the news.

Yoongi asked if you were okay with this, to imply that had the moral choice to say no. Any and every ounce of you would have thought it vile to keep him from such an accomplishing triumph towards his career as a writer. To you, there was no way you could take that away from him. And you told him that, to which he responded that no other thing in the world would tilt him away from what you wanted of him.

For some reason, that was painful to hear. You didn’t want Yoongi to say that, not because it layered more pressure on your decision but because he offered this as if it were no bigger of a compromise than cleaning spilled water and you despised the idea of being the reason he would put an end to his dreams. You wanted to be the reason he chased them. So, that's what you were. A martyr for sake of selfless love, marching into the battle of a long distance relationship.

Two years was tough, but it was something you were capable of. It was something that wasn’t going to be the final destination of your journey with him, just a speed bump to create some turbulence to happily ever after. Although, you believed happily ever after had happened the moment you met him.

But then again, the opportunity of visiting Yoongi in Colmar felt awfully similar to happily ever after. One fifteen hour plane ride, what felt like another fifteen hour car ride - though it was most likely only an hour or so, and a listless walk to the house where he was staying later and you released a guttural sigh that the hardest part was over. The anticipation of seeing him after each bi-weekly, late night phone and Skype call and far too much distance for your liking had passed, though slowly and just as lonesome as those five months apart from him. All you had to do now was walk into the door.

And again, seeing him with his hair a mess and dressed in the same shirt he’d lounge in at your apartment had dethroned yet another happily ever after.

The first embrace had your muscles feeling the most relaxed it had felt since the last gut wrenching farewell-hug at the airport. The long journey, the countless shed tears over missing him was not as heavy in your mind; his arms carried the weight of your body like none of the loneliness and worries were your burden to bear anymore and all you could give in return was to bring your wearied hands to run against his scalp, through his freshly-washed hair. The air of this French Summer night was meager, pathetic, compared to the warmth of Yoongi’s body. How his lips dragging kisses along your jaw and cheek made you want to mock how the Summer in France couldn’t possibly equate to his kind of amorous heat.

You and him walked hand in hand along the cobblestoned streets of Colmar. The Renaissance Houses, parked two rows on each side as far as your eyes could see, had decorated the riviera fittingly. Strangers of France glared with objection to you being here, and with Yoongi it had almost slipped your mind that the French weren’t fond of tourists. Maybe this short walk wasn't enjoyable in the slightest, the eyes of judgement and turned backs gripped your throat with discomfort. Maybe it wouldn’t have been worth it if you weren't hand in hand with the love of your life. But that was quite a hefty maybe.

The subtle brush of his thumb along the backside of your palm withered away every set of eyes that blistered against your skin into nothing but a lighter, less noticeable brush than his finger. As you moved through the town with him, your resentment of France and Colmar moved with you however quieter than it had before. It trailed behind, waiting to pass through and in front of you the moment you had to leave him again. As of now, you couldn’t resent France being ingested in its beauty, where your hand was being held by Yoongi.

He had pointed out every restaurant and shop that he planned to take you to and spoke of the kind family housed across the riviera, and how they’d been helping him with his French. Young children found it fascinating and esteemed to teach someone older than them; Yoongi had taken quite a liking to the excitement they would share while spouting random words in French during their almost daily lessons.

“Tu es mon amour.” With his rich, low voice he whispered some phrases that he said reminded him of you. This was thoughtful enough that it had you treasuring the intimacy of it all. It was his way of offering a little pocket of romance to feed your heart when it felt starved of him, which it often did; Yoongi had never been anything less than generous with his thoughtfulness.

“Miel.”

“What does that mean?”

“Honey.”

“Sucré. Sweet.” That resounding tingle in your stomach had nearly disoriented you, soon traveling to the soft of your cheek where he had left a warmer-than-Summer kiss. How could you forget that this was what it always felt like with him? Perhaps you were still too busy shaming the French Summer’s radiance as inadequate in comparison to Yoongi's lips and hand.

“Belle, doux, éternal. Any guesses?”

“Nope!”

“Beautiful, gentle, forever.”

You clung to his arm, feeling as though if you let go you could drift away into the black riviera, separating two halves of the same street. Now, you had been on the side with Yoongi. And the riviera had littered reflections of the stars and moon in its body similar to how Yoongi littered his delicious words along the streets of Colmar. Walking down and down, hand in hand with Yoongi and soon the first night together in five months had coalesced with the end of the road.

You fell asleep from the pure exhaustion afflicting your limbs and eyelids, without more than a ‘Goodnight’ and ‘I’ve missed you’ to Yoongi as he found his rightful beside you. Sleeping next to you, the light snore of your jaded breath was quiet compared to the deafening silence of his empty bed that dragged him into fits of insomnia. Your company had been consumed by his longing heart to full capacity and now he thought to himself he would never have to eat again because your presence had proven to be plentiful in feeding his hunger for this lifetime and the next.

Yoongi sealed the night with a loving kiss on your forehead before joining in your slumber, bodies touching to make up for five months of space. There was no need for space right now. Even though you had been all the way across the world just days ago, being a millimeter away from you now was far too straining and gaping of a distance. Through the night, there was never a moment when a part of him was not laced between a part of you, and even in a state of sleep he thanked the heavens for that.

---

The noise of the outside clamor, the argumentative honking of cars and utterances of pedestrians failed to tear you from your sleep. Neither the warm air leaking through the opened window nor the ripe morning sun piling over the bed sheets conspired in your awakening. It was the symphonic lullabies emitting from the record player that seeped into your dreams and lulled you awake with its gentle jazz music and had you sitting up. Then, it was the sweet mix of smells trailing from the kitchen that had you fully conscious and remembering where you were and who you were with, along with the all too apparent absence in the bed.

The riviera looked alive this morning. People walked down the streets joyfully like there was something other than your reunion with Yoongi to be worthy of celebration. As sunlight melted your skin to a light sweat, you pulled yourself from under the covers and inhaled the sweet, warm aromas from sources you couldn’t quite place.

Not long after you had awoken, Yoongi returned with a tray of food and a smile so wide it could be seen by everyone in Colmar. Unluckily for them, this smile surfaced just for you. He set the tray in front of your eyes and mouth that were both watering at the lovely little display of his work.

“How was your sleep, baby?” Spoken as light as the air and harmoniously with the music, he found a spot across from you and brought your hand to his lips.

“The best sleep I’ve had in five months. You?” The feeling of his smile against the back of your hand could have outdone the smoothest velvets and sleekest silks and softest wools in the world.

“Me too. Let’s eat.” The release of your hand had you groaning and crossing your legs to stare at the selection of food. “I got us some croissants from the bakery just a block from here, strawberry jam, grapes, and brioche bread with some brie cheese. French people know how to cook, that's for sure.”

“Yoongi, you got all of this today?” A mix of guilt and gratefulness churned in your head but he only laughed to mend the crimination against your own need for rest.

“Honey, you just got out from a long plane ride to visit me. It was the least I could do. Plus, I was up early anyway so I thought this would be a good use of my time.” From the looks of it, all the food was fresh. He implied this did not require as much effort as you thought, not nearly as much effort as enduring air travel.

It was then when the breach of emotional labor had been closed. You and him always forged your relationship through mutuality, whether that entailed trust, comfort, support, or intention, there was never a moment when one gave too much and one gave not enough. The never ceasing equity and balance filtered through the gaps you thought could never be closed. You were always enough for him and he was always enough for you; that had been your normal with him.

Sunday morning, in France, in Colmar, sitting in the sun kissed bedroom and watching the waters run down the trench, eating the sweet fruits and flavors of the town could have fooled you into thinking this could be forever. A brief moment strung together a temporary kind of eternity; your eyes were never seized for too long by the sights of France, your mind purged of the resentment towards Colmar as of now. Your soul had been enamoured entirely by Yoongi, and you refused to let yourself miss the sunset. Not this time.

Little by little, the food had been eaten through the morning. Through the small, delightfully insignificant topics discussed between you and Yoongi. This was what you missed the most, you thought. Being with him, talking about the small things no other would ever think to mention, and those small things became more important than a necessity. He dusted the shallowness from your ‘small things’ and made them meaningful through his genuine care. So, how could you stop yourself from sharing with him your whole world?

“I have a new hobby.”

“And you’re just telling me now?” He tossed a grape into his mouth in suspense of your answer with a tone that made it seem like it had been some sort of life line kept from him.

“Well, I wanted to surprise you with it.” The suddenness of your leap to retrieve said surprise had further drawn from Yoongi a desperation to know what you had been talking about. After a bit of digging in your suitcase, a victorious smile followed when you found it.

Yoongi felt his arms move to pull you onto his lap by an unknown force generated well beyond his own will. As if his body was now governed by his love for you, his love to be near you and hold you, rather than his own mind.

“I make little clay figures now. And before you say it, yes I am losing my mind just a little.” In your hand laid a miniature bear, slightly deformed from a lack of skill and inexperience with these kinds of things. “I have to do something because you’re not around to bother when I’m bored!” It wasn't perfect, in fact it was far from it. The body was unsymmetrical and the limbs had been a bit misshapen more sausage-like rather than arm-like, and nonetheless Yoongi took it between his index and thumb finger with the prudence and excitement of one who was holding the most precious gem in the world.

“___, this is the dumbest and cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” He rotated the little bear between his fingers, memorizing each painted detail. Imagining you impulse buying loads of supplies and binging tutorials on instructions to make these had his stomach burning from his eruption of sweet laughter.

His other hand was hooked around your waist and his chin sat on your shoulder. The blend of jazz in the morning and Yoongi’s laughs induced you to a state of entrancement, nodding off in his loving muse of physical affection. Finally being able to touch him and hear his voice unencumbered by low quality microphones of video calls was something you could easily re-assimilate to, but at the same time you were afraid of the comfort this had sheltered you with; you knew that being in France would only last a weekend before you had to leave this asylum from solitude. Then, it was back to muffled conversations and fingers stroking the pictures of him on your phone’s screen rather than the plush of his cheeks and arms.

“Please tell me there are more of these.” The whispers lovingly grazed the nape of your neck so that you reattached to reality. You tried to hold in the tears and the fact that you were already missing him, feeling like another sunset had drifted from your grasp.

“There are, but I brought this one for you.” He thanked you with a warm kiss, you returned your welcome through a soft caress of his cheek and pushed his lips deeper into you. You hoped maybe his kiss would imprint into your skin; that during moments of the day where you couldn’t come to distract yourself with work or friends and when you would lie awake at night from the harrowing torment of the missing body in your queen-sized bed, you could touch your hand to your cheek embedded with the memory of his lips and that would somehow requite this aching as if he were really there.

“I love it, thank you. What should we name him?” Yoongi hadn’t removed his lips from the side of your face, knowing you longed for him to never pull away, and that this unsaid desire was mutual as everything always was.

“Yoongi Jr. has a nice ring to it, don't you think? He certainly takes after his dad!” You held his hand and moved it next to his face to compare the two. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

“Mm, no he’s too cute. He definitely takes after his mom.”

“Looks like we’re at a standoff.” You said with the interest of getting your way.

“What about a compromise?” Your nod of agreeance to this suggestion had struck him with inspiration. “What about Miel? You know ‘cuz bears like honey?”

“Babe, you don't have to explain it.”

“I was just making sure you got it!”

God, he was so cute.

“Yoongi, what would you do if I told all your friends that you're secretly a softie?” In a fit of bashfulness, he fell back onto the bed with a chuckle. You had sprawled out over him, legs woven in with his and hands tugging the soft shirt over his torso. The rise and fall of his chest had your head, resting over it, rising and falling. Your head didn’t rise and fall back home without him. It was stagnant, miserable, waiting to rise and fall with his chest again.

“I think I would have to kill you.” He joked while pulling you in closer.

“Okay, okay, your secret’s safe with me. And Miel is a cute name for our little child.” Yoongi had been in a league of his own when it came to sweeping you off your feet. You couldn't specify when it happened, but the gradual notion of assurance that he was something of a forever presence in your life had become the only thing in the world that stood entirely unequivocal. This certainty solidified through every moment you spent with him, especially this one.

“Well, Miel! Welcome to our little family.” He said as he waddled the little figure along his chest in front of where your eyes laid. You smiled as Miel pranced before your rising and falling head.

It might be illogical to try at a long distance relationship that was only subdued with sparse and abbreviated visits. The nightmarish idea that only once every five or six months could you afford to visit him for less than a week had made it more than sensible to end it before the pain had grown too immense. On paper, that was the rational choice. But when he held you, when he bestowed an endless supply of kisses, when he did cute things just to see you smile, there was no stopping yourself from exempting all reason and rationality.

“You are the love of my life, you know that?” This had taken him by surprise. If it were possible, Yoongi was sure he had fallen in love with you all over again. The way you carried yourself with such conviction turned him from someone who could never quite settle on any decisions or beliefs to someone who had the strength to be sure in every step he took and that you and him would make it through two years of Colmar; that you and him would always make it.

“___, I- I need to get this off my chest.” He sounded hesitant, withholding of some secret. Your worry came to a peak, your mind brewing a cluster of doubt that maybe he hadn’t felt like all this pain was worth it. His breathing halted, along with the rise and fall of his chest and your head. Swallowed in the pounding of your heart, you sat up in hopes this would help obtain grounding for what was about to come.

Was this it? Was this visit the last before a goodbye that would turn the empty space in your bed into a permanence? Had you been teetering on the last of your relationship, and is this him finally stepping away for you to fall to the end of it?

But it slipped your mind in this moment. That unmistakable habit of Yoongi’s to always, without fault, sweep you off your feet.

He'd been fumbling over himself to get to his desk drawer which wrung out more suspense from you. You, still drowning in your own self-pity and imagination, were choked with tears and the rock now lodged in your throat, wishing he would just get it over with.

A part of you hoped it was because he met some beautiful French person that earned his affection because it would be unbearable to hear that it had been you that just wasn’t enough for him anymore. That your love wasn’t worth the endurance and the pain of missing you.

Anything but that, you prayed, let it be anything but that. You hated France and Colmar and writing now more than ever.

He interrupted your wallowing with an arm hidden behind his back that seemed unable to hold steady due to his shaking, effectively turning your attention to this oddly nervous behavior.

“Wh- What is it…” This came out less as a question and more as an urge for him to get on with the heartbreak that you had played out in your head about a hundred times since he said he needed to ‘get something off his chest’.

“I um,” He cleared his throat and sighed like the abundance of warm air in Colmar was not sufficient in giving nearly enough oxygen to thaw his frozen lungs. “I love you so much, ___. And I know we haven’t even finished college yet and I have over a year left in France but I don't think I can continue without doing this right now. Every bone in my body has been bruised for not doing this sooner.”

Oh god, here it comes.

“Will you marry me?” And just like that, he’d bulldozed you to pieces and not in the way you’d expected; never in the ways you’d expected. One would think you would be able to predict this pattern of behavior from him, but you laid on the floor, defenseless, in shock, and absolutely swept off your feet - again.

“What…” If you could go back and slap the sense into yourself to say yes, you would have. But life doesn’t give you those choices. It gave you a dumbfounded expression and a measly ‘what…’.

“Before you say no!” He opened the velvet lined box to reveal a simple ring with a marquise cut opal jewel and two round diamonds on each edge of it. The stone of your birth month, again his thoughtfulness had you tumbling over and over. “I know spending our first month of engagement halfway across the world is dumb. To literally anyone else it is stupid and horribly timed. But not me.”

“Yoongi-” Lowered onto his knee, he fondled your hand with his; the same one holding Miel who was now clasped between the two hands. Your hearts beat in a perfect synchronicity, more so than the jazz music playing in the background and the sun’s waltz with the ripples of the riviera.

“Being here, without you, has made me realize something. It put into perspective what life would be like without you. And, God, it’s nothing compared to what I imagine a life without writing. Hell itself looks like paradise compared to all the heavens without you, ___. And when you call me or text me or send me pictures of what you’re eating for lunch, that just…” He blinked away the wetness threatening to leak from his eyes. You, on the other hand, had thrown all restraint to the wind as streams were now trickling down your face, dampening the clothing beneath your chin.

“You have no idea how much your effort means to me, baby. How kind and understanding and patient you have been has pushed me to stay here. You don't know how often I fear you think I chose writing over you. Never- I don’t. I choose you. Every time I will always choose you. I will choose the forty eight hour visits and the five months of being apart and the spells of monumental loneliness. I would choose to live ten, hundreds, thousands of lives if that meant I could spend at least an hour with you. But that’s not the case, is it? I have the chance to spend this life with you, so I’d be damned if I let that go to waste. I love you, ___. No, I’m in love with you and I didn’t realize the two were any different until I met you. I want to be with you forever. I know this to be the only truth I can confidently place all bets on. So again, will you, ___, marry me?”

His lips, tongue, and body had again not moved from his own will, no; he finally realized it had to be influenced by something far more powerful. With you, because of you, Yoongi moved through life by love. Although he had the mind of a writer, with every word at his fingertips and the ability to stack one on top of another in a way that could move the masses, this proposal was not of the mind of a writer. It was driven by the love of a lover. All of his words were a medicine to cleanse your ears diseased of shameful distrust in his love. The love that just devoted the rest of its life to you.

“Yes.” You announced to the world, but not the world of Colmar. To Yoongi, who was your world now. “Yes, fuck. Yes, yes, yes, yes.” In the midst of your repetitions, he scooped your body in his arms and held you against him tighter than ever before and he noted that moving through love had that effect; holding tighter, kissing deeper, speaking kinder.

“I love you. I love you, Yoongi.” Now through sobs, he couldn’t bring himself to resist how you had been beckoning the affection from his heart.

Would it slip out of his chest and seep into yours? Would his affection ever translate with the same intensity that it had ridden his heart? It did more than that, unbeknownst to him; it convened with your affection of identical fervor and flooded the riviera of Colmar above the length of the trench, above the cobblestone streets alongside it, above the rooftop of the renaissance house surrounding you, flowing all the way the sunset that seemed to be the only thing you could see right now. In your eyes, there was the most beautiful sunset and there was Yoongi.

“Je t’aime, mon amour.” He slipped your fourth digit on your left hand through the ring. The cold metal encasing your finger was a new sensation, the first and last promise on this chaste finger. The only one that felt perfectly fitting and destined to be there.

And suddenly, your resentment for Colmar and France and writing had been inflamed by a tender appreciation. For being the place where you had been engaged to Yoongi and giving perspective to both of you, that distance has nothing to be discouraged of and instead, it would forge a bond of unparalleled resilience. For anointing your heart with a riviera of pure and true love, and vowing a lifetime of vibrant sunsets to witness. To that, all you could say was:

Thank you, Colmar. Thank you.

#bts fanfic #bangtanarmynet #btsgoldnet #bts writing #bts fluff #bts angst #bts long distance au #BTS suga #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi drabble #writer!yoongi #rubycoast #thank you colmar

[likecastle]

A summary of the Witcher “Punisher” concept fic cycle I’ll never write

The category is lo-fi suburban wasteland, a modern AU in tones of washed-out alienation and muted longing. One part @yoursummerfrost​‘s Bartending AU, a dash of @limerental​‘s Other Things I’ll Never Be verse, all Phoebe Bridgers vibes all the time. I am way too slow a writer to commit to this, so, here, have an extensive verbal moodboard for a thing I will almost certainly never get around to writing.

Geralt gets by working odd jobs for shit pay, raising Ciri on his own as best he can; they’ve been living out of Geralt’s van, traveling wherever the work takes him, but he’s going to try to stay in one place for a while this time, for Ciri’s sake. Jaskier’s just dropped out of college and returned home with no prospects; feeling stifled by his status-conscious family, he works a dead-end job and plays out at small local venues in secret because nobody he knows here at home understands what he’s trying to do creatively. Yennefer basically raised herself, poor and disabled and full of rage at the injustice in the world; now she’s clawing her way up the ranks of local political scene, driven by the spite she feels against all the people in this nowhere town who didn’t believe she’d amount to anything. Renfri is the privileged daughter of a prominent but cruel family who violently rejected her family’s expectations for her but still can’t figure out what she wants for her life other than something else; she’s been living on her childhood friend Yennefer’s couch since she lost her most recent job for cursing out her creep of a boss. Is there a plot in all this? Not really. Just a lot of atmosphere. Feelings and atmosphere.

DVD Menu - a beat-up van navigates a back road as dusk turns to true dark - in the distance, an abandoned housing development loses ground to the desert 

Garden Song - the doctor put her hands over my liver / she told me my resentment’s getting smaller - Yennefer grows up in this faded excuse for a town, feeling poisoned by how much she hates it and envying Renfri for a life that looks perfect from the outside, meanwhile Renfri is just as dissatisfied and angry as Yennefer is - a story about longing to have someone else’s life, the furious desire for something more, and finding solace in shared rage

Kyoto - I don’t forgive you / but please don’t hold me to it - Geralt and Ciri roll into town and goof around because making a game of their nomadic lifestyle is the only way they know to cope with how isolating it is for both of them, a lighthearted ramble around town colored by Geralt’s grief and self-recrimination that he hasn’t provided better for Ciri, but also exploring their profound familial love for each other, too - a story about Geralt and Ciri deciding to try to make it work for real this time, and hoping that maybe this new town will be the place they can finally settle down

Punisher - and here, everyone knows you’re the way to my heart / hear so many stories of you at the bar - Jaskier wanders around town, yearning gracelessly for Geralt even though he knows Geralt’s dating Yennefer, worrying he’s alienating his few existing friends, and writing songs instead of sleeping - a story about heartsickness and feeling like a pariah, but maybe you just need to see a friendly face and get a good night’s sleep

Halloween - always surprised by what i do for love / some things i never expect - Yennefer breaks up with Geralt at a Halloween house party because she realizes they’ve grown apart and she can see he’s falling in love with Jaskier - a story about loving someone deeply and knowing you always will, but recognizing it’s time you both move on

Chinese Satellite - i’ve been running around in circles / pretending to be myself - Jaskier and Geralt finally get together, after a lot mutual pining and misunderstandings and self-doubt - a story about getting comfortable with uncertainty because the present moment is enough, even if it’s not always perfect

Moon Song - if i could give you the moon / i would give you the moon - Renfri realizes how much she loves Yennefer, but she thinks Yennefer is still in love with Geralt, and she’s convinced she’s missed her chance to be with the one person she can actually stand in the whole world, all because she’s too damaged to be with someone - a story about wanting something so badly it hurts and recognizing that you’re the only one standing in your way

Savior Complex - all the bad dreams that you hide / show me yours, i’ll show you mine - Yennefer fights the impulse to sabotage her deepening relationship with Renfri, because every time she gets genuinely close to someone she starts to feel like it can’t possibly be any good and shuts the other person out - a story about deciding to do battle with your own worst impulses and realizing you might finally have found someone who’s equal to the fight

ICU - i’ve been playing dead / my whole life - Geralt worries he’s screwed things up with Jaskier, only to realize how much he doesn’t want to lose him - a story about how risky it can be to wake up to feelings you were almost able to forget you had

Graceland Too - yelled down the hall, but nobody answered / so she walked outside without an excuse - Ciri strikes out on her own to spend a nice, normal day of teenage hijinks with her new friend Dara, and a worried Geralt goes off in search of her, until he finds her safe and sound - a story about a taste of adolescent independence and the reaffirmation of familial devotion

I Know the End - driving out into the sun / let the ultraviolet cover me up - Yennefer and Renfri decide to finally leave town together and start a new life somewhere new, full of the melancholy of leaving home behind and the exhilaration of all the possibilities that lie ahead of you - a story about choosing to make a life with the person who makes you feel like the most alive version of yourself even if it’s terrifying

#the witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #renfri #renfri of creyden #geralt/yennefer #geralt x yennefer #yennalt #geralt/jaskier #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #yennefer/renfri #yennfri #yennefer x renfri #ciri #cirilla of cintra #witcher au #witcher modern au #i've got 99 problems and aus are all of them #punisher au #i feel phoebe bridgers in this chili’s tonight

[visionsofus]

Hi! Since i saw you already did another the script song, may i ask "I'm Yours" or "Flares" both by The Script?

Thank you and please keep writing, i love your fanfictions they give me so much joy!

hi anon! thanks for requesting - I ended up choosing Flares because I felt it really fit with Wanda and Vision's early companionship. I hope you continue to enjoy reading <3 

Track #15: Flares by The Script

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

Synopsis: Mere days after the battle in Sokovia, Wanda is still coming to terms with Pietro's absence and the new life she is faced with in upstate New York. Waking from a nightmare she leaves sleep behind and takes solace in Vision as an unexpected comfort.

Novi Grad was falling, taking Wanda down with it.

Distantly, she registered the strange sensation as she floated weightless above the city the was falling apart around her. She knew it was the end, could feel Pietro reaching out to take her hand, to guide her to another place beyond this physical plane. It was about time, she thought, Death had been trying to claim her since the faulty Stark missile all those years ago.

And so Wanda surrendered herself to the freefall, hoping that it would at least by painless, even if that wasn’t what she deserved.

What she didn’t expect was the Vision flying down to save her. He darted gracefully amidst the rubble flying up around them and didn’t hesitate to pull her out of the air. He slipped one arm around her back and another under her knees and they rose, him spinning between debris until they were clear of the falling city.

And it was as though Wanda’s heart remembered to beat, as though her body had momentarily given up but now screamed and begged for life. She was sure her heart was thudding out of her chest and her lungs burned painfully as she desperately dragged air in. The Vision didn’t say anything to her and even if she wanted to thank him, Wanda couldn’t speak past the tightness in her throat. He held her even as the sky around them raged with lightning and the god below split the city into hundreds of pieces.

He held her even as the tears began to stream down Wanda’s cheeks and the sobs came one after the other. Desperate to avoid the horrors below Wanda turned her head into the crook of his neck, ignoring how he flinched at the unfamiliar contact. The damning destruction was burnt into the back of her eyelids and there was no escape.

Wanda jumped awake, the dream, no, memory ending abruptly. She grasped at her neck breathlessly, still feeling the tightness of panic and grief and wiped at her eyes which had begun to stream in her sleep.

Her bedroom was dim around her but the moon outside was so bright that a little bit of its beam managed to reach past her windows. It made the shadows seem longer and Wanda gathered herself up, pressing against her bedframe and pulling the covers closer. She briefly considered closing the blinds but knew that if she did the next nightmare she’d wake up from would be of her time in Strucker’s lab.

The tears continued to fall though she barely noticed them, she’d been in a constant tearful state since arriving in America. She didn’t leave the compound building they’d placed her in and usually didn’t leave her room unless it was to eat. She avoided the others who lived on the other floors and turned down Steve Rogers’ invitations to join training with the other new recruits. Most days she was too overcome with emotion to do anything but lay in bed and cry, while other days she felt nothing and was so numb that she just slept and slept and slept.

Wanda’s heart seized when the room suddenly lit up with soft gold light for a moment, before going dark again. She blinked against the surprising brightness and shook her head, sure she had been imagining things. But then it happened again and for a moment it was like the sun had come out from behind a cloud before disappearing again.

Of course, Wanda’s next concern was that the light was coming from an explosion outside of the compound and fear raked its claws down her spine, making her shiver.

Pulling the covers up over her shoulders she eased out of bed and slowly approached the big windows that occupied one side of her room. She was prepared to run out and raise the alarm (not that she really knew how to do this, but she was sure the Compound AI would help) when she saw exactly what was causing the warm light.

Vision was standing out on the wide lawn, on his own. Wanda watched as he picked up a brick from the pile at his feet and threw it into the air. His extreme strength meant that the brick flew up so high Wanda was sure it had disappeared into the clouds until it spun back down, twice as fast. When it was about 20 feet off the ground Vision shot it out of existence with the stone in his forehead. That was the light she had seen. Wanda caught sight of her own reflection in the glass and her eyes which widened against the golden glow.

She felt a tug behind her naval, calling her outside even as Vision hefted another brick into the air. Curiosity and the strange drag in her abdomen had Wanda tugging on a sweatshirt from one of the piles littered around her floor and walking out the door. The Compound was hauntingly empty, and she took solace in knowing that it could have moments of peace such as now. Already she was used to the hustle and bustle of the superheroes she lived with.

Wanda hesitated in front of the door just long enough to second guess what she was doing. But her decision had been made the moment she left her room and so she opened the front door she hadn’t gone beyond since they’d invited her here to live. The driveway was rough and cold against her bare feet but she didn’t give it much thought, instead working to keeping walking until she reached the grassy lawn and Vision in the middle of it.

He had paused his brick destroying with his back turned.

“Hello,” Wanda said, realising how hoarse her voice sounded after a week of little use.

Only then did the synthezoid turn around, his gaze hesitant as he met her eyes. “Hello, Wanda.” She blinked, tilting her head feeling sure that it was the first time that he had used her first name before. The strange feeling that had brought her outside was back and she stepped closer.

“What are you doing?”

Vision opened his mouth once or twice as though trying to find the right words. “I confess, I was having trouble resting and a bit of research told me physical exertion can help.” He looked pointedly at the bricks.

Wanda walked around the pile and then looked to the pieces brick that lay scattered about them, suddenly conscious that she should’ve worn shoes. Those shards were probably going to break a few lawnmowers.

“Why could you not rest?” She asked instead and looked into Vision’s eyes, which seemed to change with the days. Or at least she was sure they had looked different when he’d been created compared with how they were now. Not that she was monitoring him or anything.

Vision again took a moment to think before he spoke. “It was very loud up here,” he said tapping at his temple.

Wanda nodded, knowing the feeling. “But can’t you just turn that off? You’re part computer, right? What if you just blocked out the things you didn’t want to think about?”

“Well, yes,” Vision said thoughtfully, “there is that, but I don’t know if I want to turn it off. I think I’d like to experience it all, even the bad parts.”

Wanda nodded at his interesting response and nudged at one of the bricks with her foot.

“Would you turn it off?”

“Probably,” she said quietly but knew that after the last week the answer was closer to a yes than it ever had been. She could probably have switched off someone else’s grief in their head but knew it wasn’t as simple when it came to being in control of her own mind.

“Would you like to try?” Vision asked and Wanda was slightly confused by the topic change. He hefted a brick in one hand. “I believe it is quiet cathartic.”

Wanda almost smiled at his understanding of such a feeling as catharsisbut nodded, taking him up on the offer before she could hesitate.

Vision smiled at her before turning and throwing the brick into the air, not quite as high as he had been doing before.

It was the first time that Wanda had used her powers since the battle in Sokovia but calling the red mist to her fingertips felt as natural as it always had since getting her powers. She watched the brick fall and squinted her eyes slightly in the darkness of the night. She raised her hands and followed the brick’s downward descent, catching it just before it hit the ground holding it there with her powers. She looked at it, trembling in the air and then snapped her fingers into a fist, vaporising it instantly.

She glanced at Vision and he tilted his head at her, a curious look in his eyes that she wasn’t quite able to place. He picked up another brick and she nodded, preparing herself more this time and wiping it out of the air with a single blast of carefully aimed red energy.

She wasn’t sure exactly how long they spent destroying the bricks, but the moon still shone high above them as they reached the last one. This time Wanda took it and sent it careening around in the air as Vision fired blasts of yellow energy, finally hitting it on his third try.

“That was close,” he said turning to her, the stone in his head glowing slightly at the expending of power.

She looked down at the space where the bricks had been, surprisingly disappointed that they were over. He had been right about the catharsis; she had felt an immense relief at blowing something up without causing any serious damage. And though she hated to admit it, it felt good to be using her power again.

“I didn’t anticipate company,” Vision said rubbing his hands together, a mannerism Wanda was sure he had picked up from one of the teammates, “I should have brought more bricks.”

“Another time, perhaps,” she replied, her lips turning up a little at her own suggestion and at what their companions might think if she started blowing up bricks in the middle of the night with the team’s robot. But Vision wasn’t a robot, he was something more. She’d known that from the beginning when he’d first broken out of the cradle. Even now she could see there was so much more to him, and she wanted to know. It felt strange to be feeling anything other than the suffocating grief that was her constant companion and Wanda suddenly wondered if she were allowed to be feeling such trivial things as relief or curiosity.

Vision distracted her with a wide smile that had her blinking in surprise. “I would like that very much.” She tried not to frown too much at the foreign idea of someone at the compound actually wanting to genuinely spend time with her.

“I suppose we should go back inside,” Vision sighed after a moment when it became clear that Wanda was not going to suggest anything more.

“Actually,” Wanda interjected, not wanting to return to her unfamiliar room just yet, “could we stay out here a little longer.”

For a moment she wondered if she had overstepped, if his eagerness before had been for blowing up the bricks and not actually spending time with her. But his returning smile was enough for her to ask the next question.

“Can you help me to fly?”

This time Vison seemed genuinely surprised at her admission. “Please,” she added on quickly.

“I can try,” he said, sounding uncertain.

Wanda took a few steps back, just in case, though she was sure she couldn’t hurt Vision even if she wanted to. “I was practicing this before but was never able to get it right,” she said and let her power grow, “could you catch me if I fall?”

“Alright,” Vision said taking a few steps back, his arms at the ready if things went wrong.

Wanda bent her knees and then directing her palms downwards, letting the power go, surprised at just how far she managed to send herself into the air. It was all fun and games until she started to come down, spinning slightly as she tried to right herself with her powers. She was stopped abruptly when Vision flew up to meet her.

“You looked like you were going to hit the ground,” he said hesitantly, by way of explanation even as they hovered together a few feet above the ground.

“Ok, thank you,” Wanda said her breath huffing in a little laugh. She used her power to push away from him and this time didn’t use too much, instead keeping a steady stream from her hands as she darted away. It was difficult and required more concentration than was expected. She couldn’t bounce off tangible objects around her as she was used to when fighting but had to control her density through the air. A few minutes of practice and she was soaring, breathless from using so much power but relishing the adrenaline rushing through her blood.

She arched up above the compound, pushing herself up with a boost and then letting herself freefall a little before bouncing up again. Vision was as effortless and graceful as always as he joined her, his cape fluttering behind him.

“How do you walk anywhere?” Wanda marvelled as she teetered before him, trying to hover in one place. “I’d fly everywhere.”

“It’s a wonderful feeling isn’t it?” Vision said smiling at her and darting in a circle around her.

“It is,” she said thoughtfully, managing a small and purposeful smile. At this Vision dipped as though he had momentarily forgotten how to fly, and she instinctively reached out with her power to support him. He regained himself quickly but held up a hand to marvel at the red power coalescing around his fingers as she withdrew it back to her.

“Remarkable,” he said under his breath. “It feels warm, familiar almost.”

Curious, Wanda tilted her head. His description wasn’t unlike how he felt to her, how his presence called to her. Familiar, yet unexpected. She wanted to know more but was growing tired of staying in one place and gave Vision a daring look as she flew off higher.

He was quick on her tail and they spun so high they were nearing the clouds. The moon shone even brighter overhead as it filled the dark sky above and Wanda held an arm out, marvelling at how bright it appeared now they were this high up.

Vision caught up and spun circles around her as they ascended, his gaze intent on her face and she desperately wanted to know what he was thinking.

When she had finally gotten her fill of the night air, she let herself fall, barely softening her descent and relishing in the air’s caress as it rushed past her face. Before she could make to stop herself, Vision once more had his arms around her waist and was slowly lowering her to the ground.

He let her go as soon as they hit the ground and Wanda looked down at her hands, tingling from all the power. Since she’d been experimented on, she’d learnt the power was something like a muscle, and the more often she used it the stronger it grew. Which explained why she felt so tired now, her depleted power and likely the late hour making her ready to return to bed. But it was satisfying. For the first time it made her not only want to go to bed, but to rise the following morning and actually dosomething.

“Thank you for letting me join you,” Wanda said as they began their walk back to the compound, agreeing in unison that it was time to return.

“There is no need to thank me,” Vision said, “and you know you are welcome to train with the rest of the team, Wanda.”

She was quiet as they stepped up to the front door. Steve had been asking her every few days to join. He’d coming knocking at her door in the morning and then after lunch again, letting her know that he was doing some training with the other new recruits and that she was more than welcome to join if she wanted to. But Wanda, struggling to do the most basic of things, couldn’t bring herself to reply when he did this.

“That’s kind,” Wanda said quietly as they walked inside, “but maybe not just yet.”

“Of course,” Vision said shaking his head, “forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive,” she said shrugging and fiddling with her sleeves as a reason to not meet his gaze.

They paused at the corridor to Wanda’s bedroom. “Perhaps if you need to blow bricks up again you can tell me?”

“Of course,” Vision said smiling hesitantly, “and anytime you need to talk or—or anything else, my door is always open.”

She smiled at how awkwardly he gestured over his shoulder and gave him one last small smile before continuing down to her own room. It had been a strange evening, but Wanda thought she might have found a reason to get out of bed the next morning. In anticipation her hands warmed, recalling the power even as she tried not to think of all the destruction it had caused. But she knew that hating her gifts and hating herself wouldn’t get her anywhere. It would just cause more harm.

She slipped into bed and in moments was asleep. It was different than any of the rest she’d been getting in the past days and nights. Different to the hazy hours spent drifting in and out of consciousness. This was proper rest, the kind that restored depleted energy. She didn’t dream, as though in getting so much power out she had also earned herself a little break from the relentless nightmares and grief. Within the quiet of her mind, she was distantly aware of the being who lived in the compound, not far from where she now lay, his energy, his mind calling to hers in a way she could not yet explain. A light in the endless week of darkness that had made her struggle to breath and cry so hard she couldn’t see. A flare of hope, growing stronger.

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Update taglist open on request (dm or ask me and I’ll tag you when I update)

#wandavision #scarletvision #mcu fanfiction #wanda x vision fanfiction #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #the vision #post-AoU #visionsofusfics

[whereistheonepiece]

Untitled (cotd.)

Previous

Note: Now, Oda says Robin gets a full night of sleep, but I decided instead that she occasionally has a hard time sleeping and so fills those hours with reading. I’d always wanted to write something involving that, but never had an idea for it. And then came Lawbin. I didn’t think I’d be writing a followup to the last thing I wrote for them, but inspiration can sometimes surprise you.

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Law couldn’t sleep. That wasn’t new. What was new, however, was his current surroundings: he was on a ship he didn’t know, with a crew that had its own set of dynamics and unspoken rules that Law didn’t want to learn but had to out of necessity. Luckily Law was a quick learner. It was his second night on Thousand Sunny and already he had learned that the kitchen was not always a safe bet when he couldn’t sleep. Just the other night he’d wandered into the kitchen to see about making himself coffee to keep himself company in the hours before breakfast, when he found the ship’s cook and swordsman on the kitchen floor, tucked nicely into a small futon just barely big enough for the both of them. Zoro, arm around Sanji, either unable to sleep like Law or simply roused by the sound of the door, lifted his head and glared at him. The two locked eyes for a couple tense moments before Law set his jaw and nodded at Zoro and closed the door, deciding that the caffeine was not worth the trouble of dealing with a cranky swordsman who didn’t want his lover to be disturbed.

Law asked Usopp about it later. Usopp had laughed and said Sanji and Zoro liked to sleep in the kitchen sometimes when neither of them had night watch, like that was the most natural explanation in the world. Law supposed you had to work with what you had on a ship that offered as little privacy as the Sunny, but it still irked him all the same. The kitchen was one of his favorite places to go on a ship when he couldn’t sleep. Something about it always felt perfectly still to him in the late hours, which he preferred in the moments when he was alone with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

Tonight he stared up at the ceiling in the men’s quarters, listening to the snoring and mumbling of the men around him, feeling his irritation simmer within him and grow hotter and hotter until it threatened to boil over. Checking that Zoro and Sanji were in their bunks, Law moved as quietly as he could through the men’s quarters, stepping carefully through a room that was unfamiliar to him, and he silently slipped out the door into the night.

Once outside Law stared across the ship, watching the way the night breeze rippled through the grass on Sunny’s lawn, and he found his irritation cooling. Exhaling, he looked up at the sky and located the moon, which peered through a part in the clouds and down at him. One of the advantages a ship had over a submarine, Law thought, was the view at night.

As he made his way to the stairs, Law spared a glance back at the door to the women’s quarters, and his thoughts drifted to Robin. Robin, laid out on her stomach, cheek resting on her crossed arms. Her blue eye watching him as he sat up in bed. They’d said nothing to each other while Law stirred. He looked at her, feeling relaxed in a way he had not experienced since he’d first stepped foot on Punk Hazard, and he pushed aside her curtain of dark hair so his fingers could gently trace the skin on her back. Robin’s eyes closed, the picture of contentment as she hummed. “Do you want to stay the night?” she asked.

Law hesitated. There were still some hours left before everyone turned in for the night. Surely everyone had noticed by now, even in the chaos that was mealtime with the Straw Hats, that they were missing. Law didn’t care and neither did Robin, he assumed. Why else would she have invited him into her bed when she had? But there was a familiarity in coming back to Robin’s bed later in the night that Law wasn’t comfortable exploring. And Robin didn’t sleep alone, Law thought, his thoughts turning to the ship’s navigator. Maybe things would have been different if Robin didn’t share a room, he thought to himself later that night as he was greeted by the sounds of male snoring when he retired to the men’s quarters. At least things were quiet in Robin’s room.

Law tore his gaze from the door to the women’s room and started down the stairs. Why had she offered? Had she noticed just how out of place Law felt on the ship? Surely not, he thought as he pressed his palm against the kitchen door and pushed it open. They hardly knew each other. It was probably as simple as wanting a warm body in her bed. Law didn’t understand Robin. He couldn’t get a read on her. And that was okay. They weren’t going to be around each other long enough for him to need to. And, as far as he knew, tonight had been a one time thing.

Putting thoughts of Robin aside, Law felt around for the light switch, flipping it on and waiting for his eyes to adjust to the change in brightness. Sanji would probably kill him if he found him messing around in his kitchen, but someone making a cup or two of coffee wasn’t going to kill the cook. Law began poking through the kitchen, digging through cabinets until he heard a voice behind him.

“Ah. Law.”

Law froze for a moment before he regained his composure, standing up straight and looking at Robin over his shoulder. She looked at him from the doorway, and he looked at her, in her pajamas, a pink satin dress that hugged her curves and didn’t even make it past her fingertips. Law was not so concerned about being discreet with the way he looked at her after the night they’d had, but he at least had to look her in the eye when he responded. “It’s late,” he said, as if he wasn’t currently foraging for coffee beans in her ship’s kitchen when everyone else was asleep.

“Yes,” Robin said, crossing her arms over her stomach comfortably. One of the tiny straps on her dress slipped down her shoulder. She didn’t move to adjust it. “It is.” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. He’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep and then stared at the ceiling for another hour until he couldn’t take it any longer. “I thought I might as well make some coffee before breakfast.”

“Hm.” She smiled, though Law wasn’t sure if it was for him. He never was. She made her way through the kitchen, sounds muffled by slippers the same delicate color as her dress. “I was going to make some tea, myself,” she said, walking past him, her scent lingering as she moved to a cabinet closest to the wall. Law smelled something sweet, some kind of floral scent mixed with vanilla. He normally found such smells cloying, but felt himself being drawn in, turning his head and watching her as she bent at the waist and pulled out two small tin containers, setting one down on the countertop closer to him.

“Can’t sleep either?” he finally asked her as he popped open the tin and inspected the contents inside.

“Not tonight,” Robin said, turning on the faucet and filling a kettle with water. She turned a knob on the stove, watching the small flames spring to life. “On nights like these I like to make myself a cup of tea and finish whatever book I’m reading.”

“Mm.” He watched her as she moved around the kitchen, pulling out two cups and handing one off to Law, their fingers brushing. He looked down at his cup, running the pad of his thumb against the smooth ceramic surface. “What do you do when Blackleg-ya and Zoro-ya hog the kitchen at night?” he asked.

Robin looked at Law over her shoulder, her eyes creasing at the sides in a smile while she thought about her crewmates. She giggled behind her fingers. “I simply make do,” she said brightly. “I wouldn’t want to disturb them.” 

They took their turns with the water, making their drinks in comfortable silence. Law appreciated that. He didn’t enjoy the exhaustion that came with not being able to sleep, but something he did enjoy about these few hours at night was the quiet. For a few hours each night, Law could read, could think, could simply exist and not be bothered with the pressing matters of the outside world and the petty concerns that came with a group of people who were vacuum sealed together in a vessel at the bottom of the ocean.

Law held his cup of coffee between his hands, the flesh on his palms drinking in the warmth. He stared into the black depths of his drink, conscious of the ship moving, bringing them closer to the country of Dressrosa. He felt a shadow pass over him, felt the terrible weight of the last thirteen years of his life pressing down on his shoulders. Law said nothing as Robin spoke to him, didn’t even register what it was she was saying. He drank from his cup before the drink had had time to cool, burning the tip of his tongue and scalding the roof of his mouth.

Robin tried again. “Law.”

He looked up into her eyes, trying to swallow the discomfort he felt in his mouth.

“I don’t feel like reading tonight,” she told him. She studied him, holding her mug up to her face and blowing gently. “Would you care to keep me company?”

“Sure,” he said, his response coming to him readily and surprising him somewhat as he said it.

Robin smiled at him, and for once he didn’t feel as if she knew something he didn’t. She beckoned him to follow her, much like she had earlier that evening, and Law followed.

She led him to the ship’s private aquarium. They came to a stop before the large tank. Law stared up at the fish swimming around lazily before he looked at Robin, illuminated by the cool blue glow. “You have a lot on your mind,” she said. She took a seat at the bench located in front of the tank. Law sat down next to her.

“I always have a lot on my mind,” he responded. He thought he saw a glint of red in a dark corner of the aquarium, like light bouncing off the reflective, red surace of mirrored sunglasses. He blinked his eyes a few times until he was convinced that it was nothing more than his imagination.

“Hm...” She leaned against him and Law didn’t recoil like he normally would have with someone who wasn’t a bear Mink named Bepo. Then again, he normally wouldn’t sit close enough for someone to lean their weight against him. So Law allowed it. “Well, thank you for keeping me company.”

Law glanced at her through the corner of his eye, pausing before he took his next sip of coffee. He nodded at her. She didn’t press him to tell him what troubled him and for that he was thankful. They sat there together, sipping on their drinks, waiting for the sun to come up together. And Law, for once, didn’t mind sharing the silence and solitude of the night with someone else.

#lawbin #law #robin #fanfic

[rebelwith0utacause]

thanks for tagging me @pxrxmoore ^^ This looks cool!

feel free to answer all of them or just some of them or just ignore this all together, whatever you’re comfortable with, and then tag however many people you want!

1. what was your first encounter with fanfiction? 

I think the first time I ever came across fanfiction had to be either with Paramore + other VWT bands (ATL, BVB, The Maine) on Buzznet or with Avenged Sevenfold on Wattpad. I’m leaning towards the latter because I was reading stuff on Wattpad since 2007-8 and I listened to A7X more (plus I stopped reading/listening to new A7X stuff when Jimmy died in 2009/2010 which is also around the time I became active on Buzznet). Idk, it’s been so long and that entire era of my life is extremely blurry.

2. your favourite creation of your own of all time if you create stuff (feel free to link it)?

I once made a 10 ft macrame half hitch spiral braid out of wool. Basically just braided and braided until I no longer had wool (I might have added a bit more). I think I wore it 2-3 times as a belt, but it didn’t matter. It was something cool I could do and no one knew about it.

3. what vibe are you going for with your home decor (or what vibe do you wanna go for one day, if you don’t have your own place atm)? 

Don’t have my own place atm, but def something IKEA-ish, mainly whites and/or that greyish kinda light wood. I just like stuff that look pure and clean and would let my plants be the highlight. I’m thinking green minimal with lots of DIY furniture and white linens. 

4. first fandom you ever joined? what was it like? on what platform did it happen? 

Tbh, I feel like nothing compares to my 5sos phase so I’m gonna say 5sos. I’ve definitely been in others too (A7X, ATL, Paramore, Marvel/Tom Hiddleston, James McAvoy) but I’ve never been so immersed. Same goes for my metal bands, probably because most of them were either dead or disbanded by the time I started listening to them actively.

5. what are your sun, moon and rising signs, and do you think they make sense in relation to how you know yourself? 

I’m a Gemini-Cancer cusp sun, Pisces moon and Taurus ascendant and tbh I didn’t believe in this shit very much. But the more I started reading up, the more it clicked and made sense. I feel like I’m little bits of all, the good, the bad and the ugly but there are also sides of me that you see, sides I allow you to see and sides I keep hidden very deep inside my psyche that even I hardly see them and it just makes fkn sense.

6. if you write and/or read fiction (original or fanfiction), do the tropes/plots/character types you typically seek out to read and/or write about reflect something about you as a being or how you see the world?

I don’t necessarily think they do, but they might. I’m pretty sure I have a “nurse” syndrome irl so to counteract that need to help others I read fiction where others are helped (because probably deep down underneath all of that fixing I’m doing, I need someone to fix me). And by fictive fixing I mean all kinds of fixing whether it be actual wounds or psychological healing or even socialization and sex, it doesn’t matter, I’ll read it all. I’m also a very analytical person so I love doing a psych evaluation to both the characters and the writers.

7. what is the hardest obstacle you’ve had to overcome so far in life? 

There have been many and I always see the level of impact they had on me after I’ve overcome them completely and taken a few years to just dissect what happened. So I don’t know if these are the hardest but the most pivotal in my life so far have been learning how to overcome my fear of vehicles while battling depression at the same time, as well as learning how to stop feeling like I didn’t do enough to prevent someone else’s suicide.

8. what is your all time favourite song(s)? 

This is really hard because I listen to too much music tbh, but let me see: 

- Milice by Foltin, it’s a song in Macedonian about a girl called Milica and this guy is reminiscing about the beginning of their love, it’s just such a chill fusion song. 

- Youngblood by 5sos, it basically sends me into another dimension where I feel the hurt, anger and disappointment he’s feeling as well as the helplessness of knowing you’d probably never get over this person. Yeah, his voice has that much power over me.

- Face of Melinda by Opeth, this is a part of a concept album and while the backstory is pretty dark, the melody is so soft and serene and temperamental and violent at times, I just love it so fkn much.

- Nobody’s Wife by Anouk because we all have those badass bitch songs and mine happens to be this gem, followed by You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette.

- Outlines by All Time Low, idk what’s the deal with this song but it came out during the time when I was young but felt very old and I just couldn’t find my place in the world so I replayed the shit out of it and it somehow helped me heal.

9. what do you look for in a person you wanna keep in your life, be it a friend or a romantic partner or anything in between? 

I kinda don’t look for anything in particular I just look for traits that would piss me off and say buh-bye to those people from the get go. Like... I need ppl to be politically aware and vocal, but not politically blinded, I need them to be eco-conscious and I need them to hate capitalism as much as I do. I need them to be modern thinkers but not to a point where they believe and stand for every fad coming from Western civilization. Basically someone grounded and being able to evaluate the situation without being constantly swayed by others’ opinions. Some might call it stubborn, but I really think that globalization has made us lose the good side of our ego. The part that makes us stand for something we truly believe in and not just be another sheep in the herd. 

10. this is a bit of a difficult one, but have you ever had a moment of clarity, a conversation with someone that made you go “oh!”, or anything along those lines? 

It’s happened a few times, but I’m really self-reflective so those things are to be expected of me. The last one I remember was around March last year and I was in group grief therapy and the psychiatrist was basically talking about how to deal with grief and suicide prevention and how talking helps and we talked about dreams and overall health and such and during those conversations he talked about PTSD and what helps to alleviate the symptoms and get over it and my EUREKA! moment came when I realized I’ve been healing my PTSD unknowingly on my own for the past 5 years. Basically that was such a great experience and it put so many things in perspective for me. I mean I come from a society where all things mental health are brushed under the carpet as if they don’t exist. And I’m definitely not the type of person to label shit and feel helpless because I can’t fix it. If anything, I’d def get angry and try to fix it myself because I hate being in limbo. And hearing someone voice my thoughts and fears and tell me that I’ve been doing great was just... Idk, felt like a pat on the back and a tight hug at the same time. 

tagging @karajaynetoday @krindy33 @twilightmomentswithyou @tigerteeff @myloverboyash @talkfastromance4 @notinthesameguey @ashtonlftv if you want to do this or haven’t done this before :*

#i am: a long-winded bitch