#for such a simple design this took me a truly ridiculous amount of time and effort

[kobrakids]

The Foundations of Decay // My Chemical Romance

#for such a simple design this took me a truly ridiculous amount of time and effort #lyrics #mcr #my chemical romance #the foundations of decay #foundations #my edits #tarot #100 #500

[rosalineandrosemary]

he reached for the sun, and the sun took his hand.

Ao3

There are benches both inside and outside of their school, even without counting the cafeteria, but they’re all encompassed by the hustle and bustle of their school. And so, when Marinette starts walking away from the school after the lunch bells ring, Felix follows like a moth to a flame. She walks past her house, waving at her maman through the windows of the bakery, and he waves too, stiffly. Her maman smiles at them, and points to the display cases to ask if they want anything. Marinette shakes her head and raises the bag she’s holding, to which Mme. Cheng nods, and they keep walking.

Marinette stops them at one of the benches in the park, and sits down in the shade. He sits down without prompting, and Marinette beams at him, a smile that could challenge the sun. He freezes and looks away, trying to hide the warmth growing in his cheeks, and pulls his lunch out of his bag. 

“Did you hear what Lila was saying in class today? Talking about her latest trips to far off places but all the images she showed you can find online with five minutes of searching. Like, it’s nice to sit by you during class, but sometimes I wish I could still sit by Alya in the seat we earned, you know?” 

He hummed in agreement, perfectly content to let her talk while he ate his lunch, but she instead let the statement hang in the air before pulling out her own lunch. 

The silence was companionable, broken only by remnants of conversation from other small student groups and the laughter of some of the playing children. Around halfway through their allotted lunch time, Marinette puts away her containers with a content noise and a full body wiggle before pulling her sketchbook from the confines of her backpack. “Do you mind if I sketch? I have a couple ideas for some outfits that I really want to get down!”

“Feel free.”

“Thanks, Fe!” She smiles again and he’s lost in it, left staring even after she’s turned away. It’s as if her smile is burned into his eyes, an entoptic phenomenon that steals his breath from his lungs. By the time he pries his eyes away, Marinette is already immersed in her designs, her tongue poking out from between her lips. He reaches into his bag to pull out his book, but none of the words stick in his mind, eyes trailing back to stare at Marinette’s quiet joy. 

Eventually he gives up, placing his book back in his bag and sitting there, staring into his own personal sun, sitting right next to him. The ice in his chest is melting into a pooling ocean and it feels like he’s about to overflow with it, surface tension being the only thing keeping his feelings from spilling out and he can’t bear to stare at her for any longer. 

He tears his eyes away, trying to turn the water back into ice, to freeze the feelings back in his chest and keep it contained, but there’s too much water and too many feelings and even if he can turn some of them into icebergs it doesn’t change the amount of water and finally everything comes spilling out. 

“It hurts to look at you sometimes, Marinette.” His words, soft as they may be, break the silence between them. She turns to look at him, endlessly blue eyes piercing into his skin, eyebrows furrowing with worry, an expression he’s seen time and time again: when he gets too close to akuma fights, when the bags under his eyes are darker and he forgoes his usual coffee order for something with more caffeine, or when she’s worrying about other people and he gets to watch the all-consuming flames of her care. 

“Felix?” Her voice is soft and confused, and it takes everything within him to not turn to look at her, to not let the words freeze on his tongue, to not shove everything he’s feeling back underneath his infamous “ice prince” persona that she so carefully took apart. 

He watches her out of his periphery, continuing to stare ahead and try to figure out how to melt the ice in his chest that he had tried so hard to freeze. He can’t take this back now. He can’t leave her with just that phrase, not with the twists and turns and dark corners all throughout her brain. “You’re incandescent, a sun of your own volition, and I fear that I am forever just going to be orbiting you at a distance.” He tightens his grip around the strap of his bag, white knuckled and shaking softly, before releasing it and stretching out his fingers. Felix sees her move, place her hands down on the bench, moving to get up, to stare him in the eyes. Her mouth is opening, an indignant cry of his name on her lips, and he feels like he’s going to burn from the inside out. 

“Please,” he croaks, voice unsteady. “Please, let me finish, Marinette.” His tone is worrying her even further, and so are his words. It’s written plain on her face, a book she never chose to lock. Her emotions are her strength and it’s awe-inspiring to see from inside his several layers of ice, carefully frozen to keep everything locked inside. She continues to melt it with ease, leaving him scrambling, but he needs to tell her.

 “Try as I might, I can’t keep this in any longer. I feel as though I am bursting at the seams, combusting. You melted the walls and pillars of ice I formed for years, nosing your way into every nook and cranny of my being, and I believe I have fallen for you.” Marinette lets out a soft gasp and he turns away, lacing his fingers around the strap of his bag once again. 

He can’t bear to see the look on her face when she rejects him. Disgust? Horror? Her quiet kind of upset, where her eyes fill with tears and she tries to stifle it, to push away her own feelings over and over again? 

He keeps talking, a desperate bid to keep himself away from the truth for as long as he can. “I apologize for the hastiness of my confession, and I hope I didn’t upset you too much. I’m sorry if I did, I truly had no intention to, but I understand if you reject me and I’d even understand if you never wished to see me again, I just wished to--”

“Felix.” Her voice stops him in his tracks, body tensing. “Felix, do you mind if I touch you?” Her voice is soft and her words kind but he flinches regardless, giving a jerky nod. He didn’t expect her to want to touch him, not after he ruined their friendship, but he tensed further as he thought of all the power contained in her body and prepared for backlash. He knew, intrinsically, that someone as kind as Marinette could never hurt someone maliciously, but that knowledge fell into the chasm of fear in his chest, and all he could hope was that she would choose to spare him, even a little. 

One of her hands enters his line of sight and he flinches, closing his eyes, before her warm hand is placed softly on his cheek, slowly turning his head to face in her direction. “Felix, I could never be upset with you for that.” Her tone is impossibly tender, her hand is still cupping his cheek, and he exhales slowly before opening his eyes. 

There are tears dripping down her cheeks, rolling down to the beaming smile stretched across her lips, and she raises her other hand to hold his face like he’s something precious. “I adore you, did you know that?” She smiles even brighter, looking him in the eyes before continuing. 

“Each pen has a specific place in your pencil case, and you change which pen you use each school period. You take your coffee with cream and sugar even though you say it’s black when anyone asks. You pretend you’re made of ice because it’s everything you’ve known, but you still care even if it’s not in your best interests. Everything about you is something to love, and I do. And you’re here. Despite everything, you’re here, not orbiting some foreign sun or wasting away in a cavern of ice. You’re right here, with me, and I am holding your face in my hands and you are beautiful.” She’s still crying, tears catching the sunlight, and she presses her forehead to his but it’s just warm. Nothing burns and she is so close and she’s not a sun, she’s simply Marinette, and he loves her more than anything he’s ever known. 

“Thank you, Marinette.” Those words, choked out his throat, try to compact everything he’s feeling into one simple statement. The love, the awe, the feeling of reaching something he never thought he would be able to reach, the pure joy filling in every gap where fear laid just moments before, like the sun rising over Paris. But instead of being that sun, Marinette is here and she is right in front of him and she is watching the sky turn pink and the darkness retreat and it may be noon but he thinks this is the prettiest sunrise he has ever seen. 

“There’s nothing to thank me for, Felix.” He smiles at her, leaning against one of her hands, placing his own on top of hers. He feels ridiculous holding his own face but she brightens impossibly more and there is blush flaring on his cheeks and he tries to look away but she’s still right there.

“Well then, how about saying I love you instead?” He tries to put confidence in his voice, but he is putty in her hands and she can tell, her smile turning from something big and beaming to something small but so fond it almost makes his chest ache. 

“I love you too, Felix.” And she locks eyes with him and looks down and he tries to nod but forgets that she’s that close and bumps heads with her instead. 

Marinette laughs and it’s joyful and he just stares at her and hopes that she can see the fondness building in his chest when he looks at her. She stops laughing and her cheeks flush to a pink color that he thinks could be his favorite color. Every part of her is his favorite color. The blue color of her hair in the light, the blue color of her eyes, the color of the faint freckles on her cheeks and the pink of her blush and he’s staring again, he knows he is, but she just smiles and places her forehead back against his. 

“Can I kiss you?” She whispers it, like they’re in their own little world, and he presses forward and kisses her first. Her lips are soft and she tastes like a fruit flavor he can’t quite recall, not with her hands on his face and her lips on his.

There aren’t fireworks, or sparks. There’s no burning or fire or hurting. There’s just him and there’s Marinette and a feeling of home and rightness like everything he’s ever wanted. 

He breaks away first, offers another whispered “I love you” against her lips before she pulls away too, far enough away that he can actually see things beyond her eyes and her cheeks and her hair. 

She moves one of her hands and he lifts his so she can take it back, and she puts on a mock-serious face that can’t hide the joy in her eyes. 

“If you ever talk about yourself that way again I’m going to fight you.” She waggles one finger at him, lips curling to conceal her laughter, and he raises his eyebrows even as he melts further into her remaining hand.

“You’re going to fight me?” 

“Yes! With love and affection and pets.” He doesn't get a chance to ask what she means by pets before her nails are scratching through his hair, and he wished he could deny the way that his eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

“You make a formidable opponent, my dear.” She giggles, moving to scratch behind his ear before the alarm goes off, telling them that they have to make their way back to school if they don’t want to be late.

She reaches her hand out to him and he takes it, lacing his fingers between hers. 

#felinette #this is the wip i was ignoring!! i finished it!! #thank you notte and nebula for beta-ing!!!! #marinette dupain cheng #pv felix #miraculous ladybug #rosaline writes

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (03)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively;

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

SERIES: CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4

Note: OC is a lawyer but the author knows nothing about law except the three law subjects she took last semester. errors. ah. there will always be errors here bc english isn’t my first language. anyway!!! enjoy!

Jimin wasn't lying when he said you were a mess. This was evident to Jeongguk the second he stepped inside your apartment.

Pile of cardboard boxes and papers were cluttered all over the floor, causing him to feel uneasy. The faint colors visible in his eyes didn't help to calm his nerves. It was as if he suddenly became hypersensitive to his surroundings.

He assumed that your house wasn't really that untidy, but as stated, the colors made it seem like it was untidier.

"Hi there, buddy." Jeongguk forced a smile at the cat glaring at him. He remembered Jimin telling him that your cat was a bitch. The fury pet was making this strange, scary sound. Jeongguk suddenly wished you were here to stop the cat from attacking him.

He wasn't expecting you to lock yourself inside your room the moment you realized that he was your soulmate.

He was so startled by your reaction that his first instinct was to run after you. The thing was, your cat was blocking your bedroom door—stopping him from intruding your personal space. It was obvious that the little animal didn't like the fact that Jeongguk invited himself inside your home.

Jeongguk didn't know why you were hiding from him. In your defense, you were embarrassed. What were you supposed to say to your soulmate? How were you going to explain to him that the reason why you looked like a mess was because of your demanding job?

Being a civil lawyer was exhausting. One second you're negotiating settlement with the other side's attorney, then you would just find yourself filing motions in court and of course, there were many instances where you're standing before the jury and judge to present a case.

Expertise wasn't the only thing necessary in law. You also needed a great amount of empathy so that you could understand your clients. You cared for them a lot; this was why it was such a big deal for you whenever they choose to omit facts.

You hated it when your clients were being dishonest, you didn't need them to be innocent. You only wanted them to tell you the absolute truth so that you could properly defend them. It wasn't like your job was easy. The fact that most people living in your world see in black and white was already a pain in the ass. Earlier this day, you had a client who was suing a businessperson for selling fake whitening products. She claimed that she spent a whopping two thousand dollars to get that fair skin tone. Sadly, it didn't work.

The opposing side asked your client this: how can you say that the products don’t work when you can’t even see colors?

You were shocked to learn this. Your client was subject to a color test for eyes. She said she could see colors when in fact, she couldn't. Actually, the only reason why the vendor sold your client the whitening products was because she also lied to the seller. The latter's rule was that she wouldn't allow people who see in black and white to purchase her products. This was so she could protect her business' image from fraudster like your client.

Things like this often happened in court. The one you encountered were usually easier to resolve, unlike what criminal lawyers face. This, however, didn't mean your job should be taken lightly.

What happened in court today actually took a toll on you. Your boss humiliated you in front of your colleagues, saying that he couldn't believe an experienced lawyer like you would make such rookie mistake. This made you feel like a loser that's why you decided to go home early to rest. You knew you couldn't work when your heart was this heavy.

You ran yourself a bath the moment you reached your apartment. Jimin was bombarding your phone with text messages to remind you that Jeongguk, a friend of his, was going to drop at your place later today since he was interested to be your roommate.

You simply replied 'Yes, I haven't forgotten. Stop pestering me,' to your best friend. Truthfully, Jimin hadn't shut up about this guy named Jeongguk since last week. He kept telling you that he was the perfect replacement for Seulgi, your former roommate.

You just shrugged it off. Honestly, you didn't care if Jeongguk was the perfect roommate or not. At this point, you would take anyone in. You seriously needed someone who could help you with the household chores.

The warm water grazing your skin made you feel sleepy. Before you knew it, you're off to dreamland; however, your little slumber was disrupted by loud knocks coming from your front door.

"Shit!" Your eyes went wide upon realizing that your supposed to be new roommate was already at the door. As if to confirm the horror, your phone rang.

Jimin was calling.

"Where the hell are you? Jeongguk is in front of your door!"

"I know. I'm so sorry! I fell asleep." You got out of the tub, hurriedly putting on your bathrobe.

"Talk to you later!" You ended the voice call, rushing towards the door. Unfortunately, you slipped on the wet floor.

You whined in pain. Luck was truly not on your side today, but instead of getting annoyed, you simply stood up and went your way to the door.

"I'm sorry, I was in the shower. I swear I heard you the first time you knocked, but I was panicking so I slipped down the floor and I..." You were already blabbering right after opening the door. You hadn't seen your future roommate's face because it was easier to lie without looking at someone in the eyes.

You didn't know why you told him you heard his first knock, when in reality, you didn't. You guessed you just hated disappointing people. What happened with your boss today was something you couldn't let to be repeated again. You couldn't bear to irritate another person.

You kept yourself busy as you reasoned out. You ran your hand through your wet hair, eyes widening when you saw your fingers covered in soap suds.

"Oh, my God!" You were panicking again. This time, you finally looked at Jeongguk to see his reaction.

It was like the world stopped.

No. You did not see colors instantly. What you felt was something strange—mystical perhaps. It was just like how they described it in books and movies.

You thought people were exaggerating about what they claimed they felt when they met their soulmates.

Apparently, they were not.

You know the feeling of finally seeing the rainbow after the strong storm? It was like that. Except this was way better. Your young self was probably rejoicing now. Being able to meet and look in your soulmate's eyes was dazzling.

The colors were becoming visible now, it was faint—this was in contrast to the embarrassment you were feeling.

You suddenly became very self-conscious with what you looked like. You were wrong. Your young self wasn't that happy because she wasn't expecting to meet her soulmate like this.

You were aware that you looked awful. The bags under your bloodshot eyes were probably so deep. The soap suds in your hair made you appear ridiculous. The most horrifying of all? You were wearing a bathrobe designed with the face of your favorite cartoon character.

"Uh—"

You ran away, locking yourself in your room before Jeongguk could finish what he was about to say.

Your heart was beating so fast as you stared in the mirror. The disgust you felt intensified. God. You looked horrible. You mentally cursed the brand of the mascara you were wearing. So much for claiming to be smudge proof! Curse yourself too because this wouldn't happen in the first place if you only refrained from crying over your boss' mean words, but it seemed like you never learned. You just scolded yourself from crying easily, but here you were, tears were painting your cheeks once again.

"No..." Your lips quivered. You were stronger than this. You weren't going to ruin your chance with your soulmate.

Determined, you quickly changed into a sage dress. Your hands were trembling because of your new found excitement. You loved colors ever since you were a kid. The fact that you couldn't see them didn't stop you from learning its meaning. You studied good color combination before. You were aware how to aesthetically match the hues. For instance, you knew that you would look ridiculous if you wore a neon green shirt and bright pink jeans. You were always careful in choosing what to wear, so now that you could finally see colors without referring to your color palette generator, you were beyond happy.

When you looked decent enough, you decided to finally face your soulmate. The first thing you saw as you opened your bedroom door was Jeongguk sitting on your couch—this was a very shocking scene. No. You weren't surprised because he was casually plopped down on your sofa, what you didn't expect was to see Miri, your bitch of a cat, to be so comfortable on Jeongguk's lap. Your pet looked at peace; the usual hiss she was making was replaced by a silent purring. Her bambi eyes mirrored your soulmate's same big, doe eyes.

You cleared your throat to get Jeongguk's attention.

"I let myself in, I hope you don't mind." You couldn't decipher what he was feeling. Jeongguk's voice was soft, but there was no hint of emotion there. His expression was also unreadable.

Jeongguk tore his gaze away from you when he realized that you were staring. As if this wasn't already awkward for him, you went on to say something that made him more uncomfortable.

"I've been waiting so long to meet you! Are you going to move in with me now?" You plopped down beside Jeongguk, squeezing your body between him and the arm of your sofa. Miri hissed since she was astounded by your sudden action. Actually, Jeongguk was surprised too. Your couch was pretty spacious; he didn't understand why you had to press yourself beside him.

Jeongguk also didn't know why you sounded so hopeful. The sparks in your eyes caused him to scowl; however, this didn't stop you from speaking your hopeless thoughts.

"We could do a lot of things together! I had planned everything since I was young!" You giggled. You didn't know why you were so comfortable telling him things. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you two were soulmates.

However Jeongguk was confused with your weird idea of wanting to do all of this romantic stuff with him. The uneasiness he felt couldn't be contained anymore when you abruptly talked about dating—as in dating him.

"Whoa, whoa..." He cut you off, arching his brow and moving away from you. "Slow down, will you? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh." You blushed, immediately realizing that you had gone too far. "I'm sorry I got carried away. I was just excited to meet you." You couldn't help but beam at him.

Jeongguk continued to raise his brow at you.

"Why? Are you really that desperate to find a roommate?"

It was your turn to raise a brow at him.

"N-No, I just..." You breathed in, unsure of what to say. "I'm just happy to finally meet my soulmate."

"Soulmate?"

You flinched because of the bitterness in his voice. His innocent eyes turned dark, he was glaring at you. Miri was startled once more. She jumped on your lap because she was getting scared of Jeongguk.

"I'm sorry to break it to you, but I don't believe in soulmates." The word 'soulmate' sounded so rough coming from him, making you flinch again.

Many people had told you that you were good at gauging the feelings of other people, this was why your heart skipped a beat when you saw pain and anger crossed Jeongguk's feature. It was as if he was betrayed by someone.

"It's the most absurd thing I've heard in my entire life. Only stupid people believe in soulmates. I mean—" Jeongguk sucked in a breath. He was so annoyed that he didn't even know how to express his thoughts without breaking apart. "It's limiting the possibilities for people. Why am I required to fall in love with someone I barely know? Why should I leave the person I truly love just because a person meant to be the love of my life," he paused, quoting the words love of my life in the air. "Helped me see colors? It's like forcing me to do something I don't—no, I can't do. It's such a burden. Love can't be bought. I refuse to be with people just because they helped me."

There was silence after Jeongguk's long speech of the reasons why he didn't—or as what he claimed—couldn't love you.

Jeongguk wetted his bottom lip. The silence was making him hate himself. He hated himself because he saw the tears forming in your eyes, an obvious sign that you were hurt because of what he said. But most importantly, he hated you.

It was unlikely of him to hate someone he just met—or to simply hate anyone at all, but everything about you was making him mad as hell.

He hated your hopeful eyes, he hated your beliefs, he hated that you were the person hindering him from being with Red.

He knew it was unfair to blame you since Red chose to leave on her own, but he still couldn't help himself because the idea of soulmate was what urged her to leave.

You were Jeongguk's soulmate and for him, it meant nothing. So with a furrowed brow, he stared hard at you as he said this:

"I'm making you choose right now. Either accept me as Jeongguk, your tenant or Jeongguk, your soulmate. But just so you know, I will never stay with you if you treat me like a soulmate."

His word stung, though you were aware that the only way to make him stay was to choose the former option. At least this way, you got to be with your soulmate.

The colors you see were starting to fade away and it was okay...

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #bangtan angst #bangtan ships #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook friends to lovers #jungkook roommate au #jungkook soulmate au #jungkook fic

[aitarose]

AKAIBARA (T.KUROO) pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

synopsis: he was everything, her entire world. y/n didn’t know love without kuroo, but she also didn’t know if he knew any love for her—any love at all.

word count: 5.6k

genre: hanahaki au, unrequited love, mutual pining, fluff, angst

warnings: blood, mentions of death, terminal illness?

notes: this is for my muse, lina-chan, since she’s my love—and i catered y/n to her exact personality traits..so you’re welcome loser-chan!

↳ DIRECTORY

Nine petals and counting.

Y/N rested her hands on the sides of the vinyl bathroom sink, head tilted downwards, towards the view of red. Solids and liquids approached the drain, a mix of flowers and blood escaping from her body.

Ten, eleven, twelve. It was unstoppable, the amount of love she was losing, the amount of strength she had to go on. Her legs felt weak, frail in comparison to her usual tenacity and vigor on the side of the court.

She hadn’t been able to manage the volleyball team in weeks, nearing months. Her physical health had wavered, forcing her to resign from her post. Forcing her responsibilities on their coach, her boys having to fend for themselves for the first time since she was fifteen.

Loneliness was all Y/N knew, though she was still an avid student and classmate. It was all she’d felt in the past days, isolated from her friends, her classmates, even him.

Even Kuroo.

It wasn’t that she wanted to be apart from him, from his humor, his laugh, the overwhelming feeling of warmth that he brought to her life. He was her sun amongst Toyko’s sea of stars—but he couldn’t see her like this.

He couldn’t see the blood stains, the coughing fits, the garden of flowers that grew from her throat. She was a mess and he was him, the very person that caused her this horrid disease. The very person that she loved more than anyone in the entire world.

Hanahaki wasn’t uncommon in their town, nearly a quarter of Nekoma High suffered from it in some type of way. It was truly an enigma, a confusion turned infection that made no sense to the human mind.

Y/N had tried to re-work her diagnosis for years, since the first few weeks she’d had it—and despite her knowledge of anatomy and biology, there was no solution to her dilemma, there was no true scientific cure.

And over time, she and Kuroo had come to realize that. While they worked and worked for a way to rid her of the thorns, there was nothing they could do as he didn’t know who her love was.

He didn’t know that no matter how many nights he stayed up beside her, chin rested over her shoulder, arms wrapped around her torso—no matter how much he tried to relieve her of her pain, he only made it worse.

He wanted to help, she knew that he wanted to help in any way that he could—but it was no use. All he’d ever be able to do is watch in sympathy as she’d run out of their classroom and back into the hole that was the public girl’s restroom.

Kuroo was the best person Y/N knew, which was all the more reason that he had to stay out, that he needed to give her space during this time. The disaster that was hanahaki couldn’t infiltrate his life, Y/N wouldn’t let it, he didn’t deserve the pressure—the pressure of loving her.

Thirteen, fourteen, to nothing.

Relief began to overcome her lungs, oxygen filling her veins, the thorn-covered vines retreated back to the place in which they came. It was as if the sun had finally showered through the clouds, giving Y/N the light that she so desperately needed.

Her flowers were strange in comparison to the stories she and Kuroo had read online. Rather than continuous, straight lines of blood and blossoms—her roses were sporadic and unpredictable.

There’d be times where she’d be stuck in the restroom for the entirety of the day, throwing up due to her rib cage cramping and rolling over itself—or she’d be perfectly fine, with all the energy in the world.

Those days were her favorite. The day’s where she and Kuroo would scream at the top of their lungs. Where he’d spin her around and wrap her up in the tightest hug he could muster. Where he’d smile at her as if she wasn’t only his best friend—as if he loved her.

But he didn’t. He didn’t love her, not in the way she wanted at least.

A light sigh escaped Y/N’s lips, her quivering body stilling as she finally took a look towards her reflection. She’d been staring at the pile of scarlet for nearly a half-an-hour, trying her best not to lose count of her trauma.

Fifteen petals was all it took to uproot her day, dwindle her time with Kuroo down to nothing. It was embarrassing, truly.—that her soul was controlled by a mere rose.

Color slowly returned to her cheeks, flushed shades of pink mocking her with their rosy hue, red lighting up the tip of her nose. Her eyes were weary, blurry from the amount of tears she’d shed, the same tears that had meshed with the running tap water. 

Taking a deep breath, Y/N let go of the sink. She let go of the safety of her reflection, the safety of knowing that she was the only person who’d ever see herself this way, completely derailed by love.

Stepping into the real world, the world of judgement from classmates and concerned advisors, she hastily left the bathroom—only for a large, calloused hand to wrap itself around her forearm.

As she rolled her eyes, turning to face her captor, Y/N raised her palm and flicked her best friend right between his eyebrows. “You waited?” She suppressed a grin, stifling a laugh at the sight of his mocking pout. 

“Seems like fan behavior to me, Kuroo.”

He frowned at her words, picking her up with ease as he made his way down the now empty hallways. Y/N squealed, despite being used to his relentless strength, there would never be a time in which she’d expect him to throw her over his shoulder. 

Holding her legs whilst supporting her waist, he nodded with a troublesome smile at any of their classmates who’d so happened to remain after the school bell had rung—to which they’d respond with a simple shake of the head, amused at the sight of Nekoma High’s infamous best friends.

“Fan behavior, huh?” Kuroo spun dramatically as they reached the parking lot, nearly throwing Y/N into the passenger seat of his car, her designated spot. The place where no person, not even Kenma, was allowed to sit.

He instinctively buckled her seatbelt, knowing that she must’ve felt weak and nauseous due to the stress her body had been under only ten minutes prior, before settling himself behind the wheel.

A bright beam overcame his features, practically spreading across his entire face as her eyes met his. “Where to next?” Y/N asked, fingers fiddling with the different radio channels, deciding on a soft indie-station.

“Home.” He replied, taking a hold of the hand she’d placed over the volume nozzle, allowing them to turn up the song together. Though it was brief, him releasing her touch after seconds, it was moments like this where she considered the theory that perhaps she did hold a place in his heart. 

She shook her head, forcing the absurd thought away and rolling her eyes once again at the utter ridiculousness that was Kuroo Tetsurou. She leaned back into the soft leather of her seat, deadpanning at his words. “Your home. You act as if I live there.”

“You practically do,” he quipped back with ease, hair pressed against the chair’s headrest, smothering the thick black peaks, “What’s mine is yours, Y/N. There’s nothing I’d ever keep from you.”

“You deserve the world, and I’m going to give you every little bit of this world that I can.”

Her lips pursed into a tight smile, internally punching herself at the sweetness in his voice, the purity that he managed to sop into every word. Looking away from his gorgeous face, gaze retreating to the bustling city around them, Y/N contemplated his promise. 

It was impossible, the idea that he’d proposed. The thing that he vowed to her in the mornings, afternoons, and nights. The concept that she always loved to hear roll off of his tongue, but also wanted to throw out her open window. 

After all, how would Kuroo ever be able to give her the world—when her world was entirely him?

While his house was practically her second home, Y/N always seemed to notice the residence beside it before anything else.

As they pulled up in the driveway, Kuroo carefully parking his car between the stone gate and his grandfather’s buggy, both of their ears perked to the familiar sound of none other than Kozume Kenma. 

“You’re spending the night again?” He questioned peering over the fence, recognizing the extra duffel packed along with Y/N’s school bag. “You were just over last week. You’d think you guys would be sick of each other by now.”

Kuroo shook his head, making his way around the hood and opening the passenger door. “No way, pudding head.” He shouted, resting his elbow on the roof whilst slinging the small pack over his shoulder. “Only thing I’d ever get sick of is your cute little attitude.”

Y/N giggled, squinting her eyes to see the nonchalant expression that was undoubtedly gracing Kenma’s features. She wasn’t exactly close with him, having little to nothing in common other than their giant of a friend, but still held great respect for his dedication. 

Dedication as in the value to which he held his friendship with Kuroo.

Though she’d known their captain longer, there were times in which she wasn’t able to be by his side during matches or breakdowns. This usually having to do with her hanahaki forcing her to be immobile.

But it always turned out alright, since Kenma was there. He was always there to help, even when she’d forget to send him a warning text message or quick heads up. He was reliable as he was pessimistic, a truly unconventional friend that Y/N would be grateful for until the very end.

As Kuroo took her bags inside the house, insisting that he had to help even though she claimed that her muscles were feeling perfectly fine, Y/N waved to the younger boy, casually approaching his small figure.

Her steps were small, fallen leaves crunching beneath the soles of her sneakers. Autumn was beautiful this year, the oranges and yellows mixing together like the perfect sunset.

It was complementary, the colors—they reflected the sky in a dream-like synchronization. The last time fall had landed upon Japan, she and Kuroo had spent the entire day nestled together, jumping in the multiple piles of leaves and sipping spiced drinks by the fireplace.

While the memories were happy and nostalgic, they were a distraction. Nothing but recollections of false hope and ideologies that she’d ingrained into her brain as convincing factors that he did indeed love her—that he had just an inch of his heart that was completely reserved for her.

Kenma immediately opened his mouth, interrupting Y/N before she could ask him all about how his school day had gone. Her jaw dropped, the statement being said was unexpected, out of box in the current moment of relaxation.

“You still have hanahaki.” He looked straight into her eyes as if he were challenging her. If Y/N could see into his brain, there was no doubt that the gears would be turning rapidly in synchrony. “You’ve had it for years, Y/N. A normal person would’ve given up by now.”

She frowned, her lips curving into a downward arc, slightly appalled by the bluntness of his words, before furrowing her brows while she came up with an understandable response.

Her relationship with Kenma was civil, never straying from one of acquaintances, but there were sparse moments like this in which he’d blatantly say something personal—something that made her think that he knew more than he was letting on.

“I don’t think my case falls under the normal category.” Y/N whispered, choosing to reply with honesty over falsehood, while both of their gazes fled to Kuroo, who’d cheered as he successfully managed to unlock the front door with his hands full of bags. 

“You don’t have to worry about him,” she continued with a love-struck radiance. As if on natural instinct, her legs began to move towards the person that was her heart, abandoning Kenma to his side of the fence. 

With one final glance, she saw him nod at her last words. The words that she repeated to herself every time her flowers became too much, every time she needed to remember why she was here in the first place.

“As long as I’m still breathing, he’s got me.” She called out, chest warming at the sight of her little friend’s approval. The approval that meant more to her than any test grade or big win. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Heads up!” 

Before she could blink an eye, Y/N’s vision was covered by the thin grey fabric of Kuroo’s massive t-shirt. It draped over her head like a sheet in the night, the smell being clean and comforting, completely and utterly him.

Reaching up to take hold of the borrowed garment, she shoved his chest, feeling the vibrations of laughter rolling off of him in contagious waves. Despite how much he annoyed her, he could be quite amusing at times.

Their dynamic had always been an interesting one. Her being more logical and serious, whilst he was carefree and witty. They weren’t an obvious pair of best friends, but they did have the important things in common.

That being the value of hard work and dedication, whether that came to school assignments or volleyball—they both knew the true meaning of ambition and success, and would do anything to help the other achieve their dreams.

Opening the door to the guest bathroom, Y/N slipped Kuroo’s shirt over the tank top she’d been wearing, stripping herself of her undergarments beneath the endless fabric. She tossed her clothes into her duffel, zipping it tightly and placing it on the floor.

The Kuroo household was a place she was comfortable in, having been friends with the boy for nearly all of her life. It wasn’t uncommon for her to stop by and stay for dinner or overnight, considering his family adored her and considered her one of their own.

In their first year of high school, she’d spent a total of one-hundred and twenty nights wrapped up in his arms before his grandparents had decided to permanently mark the guest bedroom as her’s. 

Though she’d grown accustomed to the warmth of her best friend’s comforter, Y/N did have to admit that it was nice to have her own space. Her own space that also gave her the luxury of having the person she loved only one wall away.

As she dug through the right-hand drawer for the toothbrush and toothpaste that she always stored in the case that she’d be staying overnight, a rhythm of knocks ricocheted off of the hard wood.

“You ready?” She called out, walking past the sliding shower doors and turning the small door-knob. “I was just about to brush my teeth,” her words continued, stopping as she came face-to-face with her favorite giant. 

His smile was cheeky, mischief seemingly on his mind as he held up his own set of tools. “You waited for me, Y/N?” A sly smirk crept on his face, her words from earlier coming back to bite her in the butt. “Seems a little like fan behavior to me.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N stepped aside, making room for his ginormous body in the quaint bathroom. The countertop wasn’t exactly large, having just enough space for the two of them to stand beside one another with their arms touching as they looked into their reflections.

Her eyes seemed distant, even to herself. The usual livelihood that inhabited her irises was absent, replaced with fragments of the person she once was, the person that had been overshadowed by dirt and disease.

Resentment was the only emotion she displayed, hatred for the pathetic reasoning behind her pain, the putrid dreams she wished would come true—but as Y/N looked away from the stress and worry, she saw him. She saw Kuroo.

Unlike her, his gaze wasn’t resting on himself. His eyes weren’t immediately attracted to his own appearance, choosing to lay on Y/N instead. His neck was angled down, a soft expression gracing his face while he simply admired her.

While he admired her like a boy in love.

They held eye contact for a brief moment, neither one wanting to end the intimate interaction, before he broke away. He snapped out of his trance, hands subconsciously reaching for the tube of toothpaste that had been forgotten by both minds. 

As they began to brush their teeth, Kuroo played troublemaker. Whether that meant making faces or mimicking Y/N’s actions, he found endless ways to humor her, wanting to see the smile on her face as she flipped him off.

The laughter wheezing from her lips was infectious, her body doubling over, forcing heavy chuckles from her love as well. It was a sight to see, two high schoolers in a minimal-sized bathroom, overcome with a fit of giggles—but that was simply them. It was simply Y/N and Kuroo.

With a mouth full of foam, she leaned past him and over the sink, expecting to see a mix of bubbles and white—only to be gifted with the mood-killing sight of blood and blossoms. 

She choked, gasping for air as the small roses fell from her throat. “Please,” she cried, gripping the ledge of the counter with a killer grasp, gesturing for Kuroo to leave the room. “I can’t breathe.”

But he didn’t listen, he didn’t leave. He didn’t cover his eyes and walk away like he normally did, respecting her wishes that he would never see her like this—like a complete and utter mess.

As her airway began to clear, her smiles turned to frowns, embarrassed of what he’d seen, the proof of her never-ending infatuation. However, Kuroo didn’t seem phased. He glanced at the flowers as if they were nothing, as if they weren’t a foul sight in itself.

He turned the faucet on, washing them away from her view, forcing the spray roses to dissolve and wither above the drain—and for some odd reason, Y/N’s heart hurt at his actions. 

It was the first time in months that he’d been present during one of her uproars. The first time in months that he had to see what she went through on a nearly daily basis, and he didn’t even blink an eye.

He looked at the physical representation of her love like it didn’t matter, like it was a pest that he had to kill. Like an unintentional rejection that his instincts dictated, a rejection that she feared for every moment of every day.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N muttered, refusing to meet the concern in his gaze. She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the inevitable judgement that she expected to come from his way—only to feel his rough hand take a hold of her chin, tilting it upwards towards his face.

Nothing was said, no remarks came from his end. Instead, he wordlessly stole the hand towel that’d been hanging on the shower door and dabbed away the blood that had soaked into the skin beneath her lips. 

He was unreadable.

No matter how hard she tried to analyze his thoughts, his actions, his posture; a blank canvas was all she’d painted. She wanted to keep apologizing for the things that were out of her control, but as she opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted with a question that she’d never expected to hear.

“If it weren’t for your hanahaki,” he began, brows furrowed in concentration, not allowing Y/N to pin-point what he was so focused on, if it was the disease or herself. “Do you think you’d know that you love them?”

“You know, your person?”

Her response was momentary, the gears in her brain working on overtime as she tried to find the meaning behind his words. Why the sudden curiosity? Did he have hanahaki? Was there someone he loved? 

Clearing her throat, making sure that there was no evidence of her accident, Y/N began to speak slowly. “Being in love is more than just a disease, Kuroo. It can’t be dimmed down to a single flower or infection.”

“I love him enough to put myself through pressure every day. I love him so much that it physically hurts me to think about him. He brings a light to this darkness that no other person can outshine—”

“—and I’d never give up on him.” Glass covered her eyes, tears struggling to roll down her cheeks as her peripheral vision grew blurry. In the midst of her tangent, Kuroo had pressed Y/N against his chest, rubbing her back in soft circles.

“He’s the other half of me, my true equal.” Bitterness was being laced in her tone, the irony of it all settling in. It was unfair. Her describing her everlasting love for the boy she’d do anything for. He was right beside her, and yet he seemed miles away.

“I’d know love for him even if I was healthy. Even if we were strangers, worlds apart.” Choking back the last of her cries, Y/N bit her lip, pushing away the warmth of his chest. “Trust me, Kuroo. You’d know if you were in love.”

For once in his life, he had no words. No comments or remarks that he was dying to say. His only response was a nod of the head, a curt acknowledgement of her feelings, before he turned and said a brief goodnight.

Before he turned and left Y/N with nothing but confusion, thoughts that would keep her restless and awake throughout the night. Itching concerns to creep up her veins and into her dreams.

If only he loved her, then all of this could’ve been avoided. If only he had asked her who her hanahaki was for, then maybe she would’ve confessed. Perhaps she’d be free and untethered from her illness. 

But he didn’t ask, and she didn’t confess. All she was left with was broken fragments of care, leftovers of love that she received through twisted questions and wonder. 

All she was left with was half of a heart, that would never find its whole.

2AM.

It was nearly two in the morning and Y/N was restless, chasing sleep like it was an everlasting punishment. Slumber being within her grasp, but stolen, kidnapped by the stress and worries that were Kuroo Tetsurou. 

Her mind was moving at a million miles per hour, overthinking and overworking the question that he’d asked her in the midst of their nightly routine. The curiosity that had somehow overcome his usual vigor and happiness. 

Panic settled in her throat, the feeling of thorns and stems inching their way up her neck and touching her tongue. She needed water, anything that could suppress the punishment for feeling love. 

Swinging her legs over the side of the queen-sized mattress, Y/N shivered as her feet touched the cold floor. Her steps were light, trying her best to be completely silent, not wanting to disturb the actual members of the household.

The trip to the kitchen was short. An easy route for her after having taken many midnights trips before, since her hanahaki always seemed to act up whenever she stayed overnight. 

Finding a small glass and filling it to the brim with tap water, Y/N gulped it down, savoring every last bit as if there was no other substance on Earth. The liquid ran down her throat, pushing past the vines and forcing them into their home that was her heart. 

“You’re up late.” 

Y/N jumped, nearly smashing the cup on the counter as the familiar voice of Kuroo’s obaachan crept up from behind her. She sighed, taking a deep breath before facing the old woman.

Her relationship with his family had grown extremely close in the years that they’d known each other. She was practically considered a member of the family, them always wanting her around no matter what the circumstances were.

But she and obaachan were different compared to how she bonded with the Kuroo men. Unlike the others, his grandmother was observant, knowing of the love that Y/N had for her favorite boy. Knowing of the cause of her hanahaki.

“Obaachan.” She greeted her weakly, holding up the glass as an excuse for the timing of their interaction. “I’m sorry if I woke you, I didn’t mean to cause any havoc.”

The old woman simply smiled, approaching Y/N with a loving hand and placing it on her shoulder in comfort. “It’s alright dear,” she squeezed her palm, feeling the younger girl’s struggling heartbeat. “It’s not your fault.”

Y/N grimaced, shaking her head in defeat. “But it is,” she admitted. She’d always take blame for her hanahaki. It was a virus in not only her life, but everyone around her. “It’s my fault that I’m unwell.”

“No, dear.” Obaachan cupped her hands around her cheeks, challenging her eyes, not taking her answer or excuses. A sad smile graced her lips, sorrow in her irises. “You’re not unwell..you’re in love.”

Tears grew from the corners of Y/N’s sockets, waterworks beginning to roll down her cheeks at the familiar feeling of the comforting touch of a Kuroo. She broke down, her walls shattering in front of the only person who understood. The only person who would truly listen. 

“Why won’t he love me?” She cried out, pain overtaking her whole body. The pent up emotions were collapsing like tidal waves, storming throughout her heart. “Why won’t I ever deserve him?”

Concern furrowed in the older woman’s brows at the sight of Y/N breaking down. Her grandson’s best friend was one of the strongest people she knew, and knowing that her struggles were this great was indescribably disheartening. 

“My Tetsurou has been a caretaker all of his life,” she started, gently speaking in languid sentences, doing her best to keep Y/N’s attention on her and not her pain. “Whether it was for me, my husband, or Kenma—he takes on more responsibility than he can handle.”

“His heart is so big, so full of love for everyone other than himself.” She continued, her words beginning to settle in Y/N’s mind. “And in the midst of that, I don’t think he realizes that he’s capable of experiencing love as well.”

“He doesn’t realize that everything he could ever want is standing right in front of him.”

Obaachan was whispering now, her voice being soft but commanding. It was frightening, the passion that she held for her grandson. The passion that she held for her dreams of his happiness. Her dreams of him finding his true love.

“While love is a chemical feeling, it has no chemical solution.” Y/N swallowed hard, taking in every single thing she was saying. Letting her statements ingrain themselves into her memory. “This disease doesn’t define your future, my dear.”

“Whomever you choose to love will be lucky, Y/N—but I have to say, I truly hope that my Tetsurou has luck on his side.”

It’d been almost a month since the fateful overnight encounter, Obbachan’s words playing on repeat, over and over again until they grew tiresome. The idea that Kuroo could perhaps love her was haunting, terrorizing her very soul. 

Despite the shift in their energy, the elephant in the room being his unexpected question and her never ending response, their friendship continued on like normal.

They’d go to school, spend time together afterwards, perhaps even have a sleepover, and repeat. It was all the same, not a thing out of place except for a major detail that couldn’t be explained. 

The presence of Y/N’s hanahaki was little to none.

Her flowers decreased, the numbers becoming smaller and smaller every single time she took the time to count. The disease that had become a constant in her life had suddenly disappeared, confusing her to a maximum.

She didn’t feel like she’d fallen out of love for Kuroo, there was still a large part of her heart that was reserved for him and only him—yet her roses were invisible, the trips to the bathroom were down to none. 

And while those statistics had fallen, the number of quick glances, stolen touches, and late night conversations had increased. She and Kuroo did everything together before, but now it was as if they were inseparable at all times.

It was as if his heart had finally opened up, accepted her presence and locked it into place, never wanting to let it go. Y/N couldn’t determine what had gotten into him, what made the sudden change in behavior.

But her flowers were gone and her love still remained. All that needed to be said was a confession, a confession of the love that she hoped was mutual. The one-sided love that she’d secretly harbored for years on years.

Mindlessly walking down the school hallway, passing by classmates and advisors, Y/N contemplated the future of her and Kuroo’s relationship. The future of her heart and if it would ever find its other half. The other half that so happened to take a hold of her hand at that very moment.

Kuroo seemed on edge, his heartbeat was quick, throbbing against Y/N’s palm as he dragged her towards the closest empty classroom. Without warning he closed the door, drowning out the scattered noises of everyone on the other side of the wall.

“Hey.” He said, breathing heavily. His shoulders were rising and falling, his breaths deep as if he’d just ran a marathon on his path to retrieve her. “I really needed to talk to you.”

Y/N almost toppled over, the strength of his grasp tripping and unbalancing her body. As her vision began to stabilize, wobbly from the sprint, she took notice of the classroom he’d brought her to.

Flowers lined the walls and ceilings, potted plants hanging from the wooden beams and arches. Soil was sprinkled over the floorboards, various footprints etched into the dirt. 

He’d taken her to the floriculture classroom—the classroom for the study of flowers.

Silence overcame them for a moment, neither one speaking a single word as they stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Her confession was at the tip of her tongue, ready to be said, ready to be spoken into existence—but Kuroo spoke first.

“I’ve never had it.” He simply said, his mouth pursed and head towering over her. Before she could respond, asking him what in the world he was talking about, he continued. “Hanahaki. I’ve never had it.”

Biting his lips, Kuroo took her hands in his once more. Rubbing her palms with his calloused fingertips, easing away her confusion and speaking his feelings with his entire heart weighed into them.

“All this time, for all these years, I thought that I’d never known love.” His brows furrowed in concentration, and for the first time, Y/N could tell what he was so focused on. It was her. 

“I asked you how you knew that you were in love, flowers or not, and the way you described that feeling..it was familiar. It was something that I’d felt before, something that I felt all of the time.”

“Something that I felt all of the time for you.”

Y/N was at a loss for words, the confession that she’d always wanted to say being said to her. The very moment that she’d dreamed of was actually coming true, it was actually happening right in front of her eyes. It wasn’t her imagination—it was real. Kuroo loved her.

The smile spread across her face was more than enough to ease his nerves, her teeth were so bright they could’ve been compared to the sun. He couldn’t help but think of how beautiful she looked, how she was his sun.

“I’m so sorry my love hasn’t been constant, Y/N. It shouldn’t have taken me this long to realize the patterns, how your hanahaki came and went. It was my fault you’ve gone through so much pain.”

“But even here,” he whispered, pulling her close. His arms wrapped themselves around her body, his nose being mere inches away from hers. “With all of the flowers anyone could ever ask for, the only one that matters is you.”

She could feel his breath now, the soft breeze against her cheeks. Her body wanted to surge forward, connect their lips in a final confirmation of their feelings. She wanted the kiss with Kuroo that she’d been waiting for for her entire life. 

“I love you.” He admitted, not waiting for her response before pressing his mouth to hers.

His smile could be felt between their lips, moving continuously as if they didn’t need any air to breathe. After all, they really only needed each other—Kuroo was the missing piece to Y/N’s puzzle, her heart was finally whole.

As they broke apart, love radiating off of them in contagious waves, overwhelming the room, igniting the aura—a cheeky grin grew on her new lover’s face. 

He plucked a flower from the pot behind her head, presenting it with a laugh at the sight of her rolling her eyes in mock annoyance. Although she found him to be ridiculous, she accepted it gratefully—loving the new chapter that they were about to embark on.

“I heard you like roses?”

© aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy or claim my writing, works, themes, copy and paste my words, or headers as your own

#kuroo x reader #kuroo imagine #kuroo imagines #kuroo fic #kuroo fanfic #kuroo fanfiction #kuroo oneshot #kuroo fluff #kuroo x you #kuroo #kuroo blurb #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hanahaki au #hanahaki #hanahaki disease #kuroo tetsuro #tetsuro kuroo #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro imagines #kuroo angst

[immortal-enemies]

Constellations

I wrote this in like, two hours. It's been awhile since I wrote anything, so I hope this is okay! Also, sorry if this doesn’t make much sense!! 😂😂😂😂

Kit let the knife slip from his hand, as fluid as water, and listened as it slammed against the target. Opening his eyes, the smallest grimace graced his lips as he saw it had hit near the center, but not quite there.

He reached back to retrieve another throwing knife, only to furrow his brows upon realizing there were none left.

He glanced at the sheath on his thigh.

The Herondale dagger was a self-conscious weight he carried with him everywhere. He would have it all day, not daring to so much as skim the thigh he had it strapped to, and when he had gotten home or simply retired to his room, he would place it carefully in a case on his dresser, there for that purpose.

Lately, he had been asking himself why he never used it, but still carried it.

He didn't have an answer. Perhaps because there wasn't simply one, but it was more of a constellation, several explanations connecting to create the big picture.

So far, he had drawn the lines between few stars.

The boldest one was the simplest: he didn't feel like a Herondale. There was a part of him that asked himself late at night, when sleep strayed as far from him as it possibly could, if he accepted being a Herondale simply because of the heroic William Herondale, a man very close to those who took him in. Maybe he only agreed to be one to satisfy them. To give up something in return for what they were giving up by letting him stay here. He wasn't quite sure what that was, exactly, but it had to be something.

It was never "just because" when it came to him, of that much he was certain- of that much, he had learned during the darkest time in his life.

He, thankfully, didn't dwell on those days much anymore.

One that wasn't as bright, but visible was that he still resented the Shadowhunters. Maybe his hatred was renewed by him finding out he was part fae, and the Cold Peace became something personal to him. He knew it was ridiculous, but it quickly became his reality. What would the Shadowhunters do if they ever found out what he was? What would they say? Would they try to find him? Hunt him down? Of course they would.

Another star, one that gave him a headache looking at: He wasn't truly a Herondale, no matter what he was told.

He wasn't a Shadowhunter. He was also fae.

And it was infuriating when people tried to tell him otherwise.

Because when he brought this up to anyone, he would always hear the same phrase: Shadowhunter blood runs true.

When he heard it, he wished he had more control over himself to send the bastards to whatever limbo he sent the horses when he first discovered himself.

A flickering star; him, angry at his guardians.

Even though they were trying to protect him, they tried to keep him from finding the truth about who- and what- he is.

Just like everyone else.

Another sparkling dot in the darkness. He didn't trust anyone. Hell, he didn't even trust himself.

He couldn't trust. Not ever again.

He was broken.

His father, who had lied to him, didn't take care of him out of love, but out of a debt, a debt to his mother.

The Blackthorns, who had made him feel as if he could be wanted, then ripped that away. They were paying a debt to Emma's cousin, and when it was paid, they took everything back.

Jem and Tessa, who kept information that, had they told him rather than forcing him to find out, would have built some foundation of trust. They were paying a debt as well.

To Will, who was a Herondale.

He knew of the saying "The Carstairs owe the Herondales."

He was merely a debt to be paid, nothing more than a tool to satisfy the need for self-approval of everyone he ever encountered.

No one cared for him. Not truly.

It didn't take long to realize why.

Which drew his mind to the only other star he discovered, with great bitterness: he was unlovable.

It was a fact Johnny hadn't kept a secret.

The simple truth the Blackthorns didn't care enough to alter out of his mind.

Jem and Tessa told him he was loved, but too many times for it to be believable.

He wondered where he would be if he hadn't been taken in by the Carstairs. If he was left alone to carry the burdens only he could carry.

Maybe it would have been better.

Of course, he never voiced this thought aloud. There was hardly any point.

The small amount of stars connected, but only few did to each other. There were many other reasons, more stars needed to complete the constellation.

It was simply too dark to see them just yet.

His hand drifted to the hilt of the dagger he resented, and, pressing his lips into a thin line, grasped it gently. Drawing it out of its sheath, he held it up, passing his fingers along the smooth side of the gleaming blade. The light bounced off of the piece of finely crafted weaponry, making it glitter.

He looked to the target, which was filled with throwing knives that never made it to the center of the circle.

He glanced down at the dagger in his hands and narrowed his eyes.

It wasn't a weapon designed to be thrown, that much he knew for certain.

But he was Kit Rook. When were the rules a priority?

He swung his arm up and to the side, his body turning with it. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath.

Throwing his arm the other way, he released the dagger and followed through with his swing.

The sound of anything splintering the wood of the target was satisfying, but the dagger was practically music.

Opening his eyes, he straightened his back and looked to the target.

A smile tugged at his lips as he gazed at the hilt of the dagger protruding from the dead center of the target.

Maybe he wasn't a Shadowhunter.

Maybe he wasn't a Herondale.

Maybe he wasn't what the world demanded he be.

But maybe, for now, what he was would be enough, whatever that may be.

Tag List: @silvenys @thelostherondale @julieandthefandoms @clremont  @hallowedthorns @stxr-thxif  @autumnangel20 @the-come-n-stare-family (As always, if you want to be added to/taken off the tag list, let me know!!)

#kit herondale #twp #the wicked powers #jenny's writing #tuserbianca #userkshjeera #*

[putseraphinaonthaphone]

Behave, Majesty

There was a reason he was assigned to be the head of your security. He was the fiercest warrior your father could find, which meant you- the heir to the throne and the most wanted marriage match between the three largest kingdoms of the land- would be safe against any reckless nobles who resorted to more desperate means to take your hand by force.

When you met he was still in his full armor, and he held his helmet impatiently in his hand, allowing you to see the mess of pale gold strands of his hair. You descended the stairs leading into the main audience room, the gossamer layers of both your cape and your dress- designed to highlight the generous curves of your body and show off your desirability to potential suitors- a soft rose that complimented the dusky shade of your skin, and made your dark areolas and nipples stand out. It was also thin enough that Bakugou could see the shadow of hair that covered your pussy. You weren't sure if he wanted to fuck you or kill you based on the way he was taking in your official royal attire.

You always felt ridiculous in these outfits, like a show pony, but somehow when it was his gaze taking you in like it was his right- you felt powerful. Desired.

Introductions were long and ornate and boring, and somehow you were relieved by your new head guard's rude interruption-

"Bakugou, your Majesty. Can we skip the formalities? I'm sure the heir to the throne has more interesting things to do." He almost sneered at you, as if he knew most of your life was preparing to be the trophy of the most politically beneficial suitor.

"Yes, I have an appointment with the master of the baths this afternoon in preparation for the suitor ball in a fortnight." You returned evenly, but your narrowed eyes and cuttingly dry tone just made your new guard grin with a sharp fierceness that made your stomach clench.

"I'll keep you safe while you're getting pretty Majesty."

Having Bakugou as a guard was.. interesting. He was always alert and prepared for all threats, and he saved you from many attempted kidnappings. Every time he put you to bed after an attempt he'd stay the night with you, sitting in a chair by the door while he sharpened his knives.

You loved these nights, because you never felt safer than when you called out to him in the low light of the room, only able to see him in his poet shirt because of the candle he used to see his blades and wetstone, and he grunted at you, "I'm here Majesty. I'm not leaving your side. Now go to sleep."

Having Bakugou as a guard meant getting lectured the first moment you're alone.

"My job, Majesty, is to keep you safe. That means you have to behave. You have to obey every order I give, when I give it, because your obedience can mean life or death in a moment of danger. Do you understand?" He was crass and abrasive around others, even your father the King, but when it was just the two of you he was focused and straightforward. Determined. A conquerer, if you'd ever seen one. Whatever he set his mind to he'd accomplish, you were sure. What would it be like to be the focus of such relentless intent?

"Focus, Majesty. I asked you a question." His words were sharp, making you guess he'd called out to you more than once when you were lost in thought. You blushed furiously but nodded, and if your voice shook at least only he was here to witness it.

"Y-yes, I need to behave for you and be obedient to ensure my safety." His eyes seemed darker for a moment, watching the way your tongue swiped over your bottom lip. With a sharp nod he ended the conversation, and retreated to be a protective shadow like he was assigned to be.

Having Bakugou as a guard means through all the would be suitors, the balls, the brunches, luncheons, court audiences, he was by your side. Rolling his eyes when you couldn't at the ridiculous promises suitors made you, and holding his hand while you lean on him to take your painfully ornate shoes off for just a moment before your next appointment.

Having Bakugou as a guard means seeing the way he slowly starts to show his respect for the work you do for those in your kingdom you claim your father's infrastructure has failed. He follows you day after day going around the kingdom's orphanages and poor houses, bringing your maids in waiting to carry more baskets of food and blankets and medical supplies. He helped carry the heaviest supplies, his red eyes following you as you sit and talk with the children while your aids distribute the food and blankets (because as much as you'd like to you're not allowed to actually do any of the cooking and preparations yourself as another ridiculous limit because of your royal blood.)

But then your father tells you he's found a suitor, that he's tired of your arguments for not marrying the decent, perfectly acceptable matches he's put forth, and that you're to be married within the year.

Having Bakugou as your guard as a betrothed royal is hell. He sneers more often than not when mentioning anything about "Prince Izuku, the Compassionate" your soon to be husband if your father has his way. And after meeting your betrothed you found he was a perfectly kind man, with an honest heart and a genuine desire to do what was best for his people.

But he didn't make snide jokes with you about the gilded trappings of the upper class that felt like a prison, he didn't sit with you to ward off nightmares of men coming to take you simply because of who you were born to, and he didn't make the vow to keep you safe- willing to lay down his life to make sure you kept your freedom.

Having Bakugou as a guard means finding the most inconspicuous time to have a moment alone to tell him-

"I don't want to marry Prince Izuku." Your handmaids were dismissed for the night, and you had claimed you were fearful of nightmares to get Bakugou to stay the night with you.

You were in your bed, the sheets long since turned into a tangled heap, and you leaned against the ornately carved wood of the bedframe's canopy as you made you declaration.

The nightgown you wore was, like most of your clothes, more gossamer threads than anything substantial. And in the candlelight of your royal bedchamber the champagne fabric made your skin shimmer like bronze. Bakugou's heart clenched at your words and he hoped so brightly for a moment it took a viscous amount of self control to wait, hear everything you had to say.

You stood and walked over to him, barefoot, a vision that was begging to be claimed.

The doors were locked, and no one but the man you wanted was able to see the way you knelt before him- a royal showing such an act of loyalty and submission was unheard of. But Bakugou could see that you were genuine in the way you bowed your head to him for a moment, and the longing in your gaze when you finally looked up at him.

"I want you. You swore to always keep me safe, do so by taking me for yourself. You'd protect me.. and you'd protect any heirs we may be blessed with.." You murmured your reasonings softly, your hands resting on his knees as you spoke. You saw the hardness between his strong thighs and you took a risk that had your face flushing red-

"I'd have to obey you, as my husband. But I always obey you don't I? Give me a command. Let me show you how well I can obey."

Bakugou cupped your cheek and brushed his thumb over your lips, bitten red with your worrying.

"Such sweet lips saying such tempting things. You'd give up the throne to two kingdoms to be tied to a simple knight?" His question was quiet, but the weight of it hung between you two heavily.

"I'd give up everything to be by your side for the rest of my days. I'm not afraid, I'm never afraid because.. I know you'll protect me. That's all I need." You'd thought this through. You were prepared to present your father with an alternative form of union between the two kingdoms, or runaway if need be. You also had a plan, one that was crazy, reckless, desperate. But if there was no other way to make sure you were his.. You too, could be relentless in pursuing what you wanted. Maybe your love for him gave you that drive.

"And you want to give me children?" The way his voice grew rough as he asked it let you know this question affected him just as much as it effected you. Your thighs clenched together, and that heat that always lingered in your belly in his presence seemed to be ignited by the thought of what he was going to say to your reply.

"I want to behave for you as any good royal should, and provide my husband with as many heirs as he desires." You met his eyes seriously, and you didn't when his hand lowered to wrap around your throat. You leaned into his grasp, breathing in sharply when his grip tightened briefly at your blatant trust and submission to him.

"Your father may not allow it." It was as if you scented blood in the water, if he was coming up with reasons you shouldn't it meant he was in favor of it. You would have him, because no one else could ever compare to the brightness of him that exploded in your life and didn't leave a single thing the same.

"If I'm already with child when we present our argument, he won't have a choice but to give you my hand in marriage." You blurted out, your one ace card. The way Bakugou's jaw clenched and his grip on your throat tightened enough that you got light headed made you squirm.

"Are you truly so desperate for me that you'd allow me to put my seed in your belly? Tonight?" All it took was a nod, and he was hauling you into his arms. Your legs went around his waist without hesitation, and he carried you back to your bed.

Stripping you of your close was easy, especially compared to your lover's brute strength- the gossamer silk fabric didn't stand a chance. You were bare before him in moments, and he shouldered his way in between your lush thighs to he could finally get his tongue in your pussy like he'd been dreaming of doing for months.

You were biting your lip and trying to hold in your moans, because you couldn't get caught. Not yet. Not until you were sure his seed had taken root in your womb.

"Not a sound, Majesty. We are not going to be interrupted until you are leaking my seed." The low, growled words made you whimper, and you pushed your hand against your mouth to try to obey him. Because you would always behave for him. Your Knight.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou #happy birthday bakugou #i have a thing for knights #and royalty #tw: dubcon #tw: duboius consent #tw: dark content #tw: kink

[sassyhobbits]

Could we have an oln extra from elorcan pretty please *doggy eyes*

it would be my pleasure ;)

this takes place about a year before the ons epilogue!!!!!

elorcan ons oneshot pt1

~~~

Lorcan Salvaterre considered himself to be a level-headed man. He had immense patience and rarely let his emotions, positive or negative, get the better of him.

That’s why it was so surprising that anxiety had been roiling in his gut for the past week.

In the two years he had been living in Terrasen, so many things had changed.

Aelin had given him a job in security at the palace and he had recently been promoted to the head. His relationship with Elide had been growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. They had recently moved in together, Elide moving away from her native Perranth to work more closely with her family in the capital.

Lorcan never would have expected that the chore of traveling to Terrasen with Remelle would lead to so many wonderful things in his life.

He knew that he was in love with Elide. It was like nothing else he had ever felt in his life. He had never cared for anyone the same way he cared for her. It only meant one thing.

Which was why he was anxious.

Lorcan held no doubts about the fact that Elide loved him just as he loved her.

Yet the idea of proposing to her was utterly terrifying.

It hadn’t been a dramatic moment when he realized he wanted to marry her.

It had been a lazy morning in the apartment, and Elide had started on some eggs. Lorcan remembered leaning back on the kitchen island, admiring how she looked in his shirt, her dark hair glistening in the golden morning sun. And… he had just known. That he wanted to marry her. It hadn’t felt like a new idea, instead something he had discovered deep inside of him, as if it had always been there. Elide was it for him, that he knew.

But to propose to her, he would first need to get a fucking ring.

It was much more daunting a task than he would have expected.

Lorcan didn’t truly have an eye for finery, he never had, but he knew Elide deserved the very best.

Which was why he was calling for backup.

He made the call as he was driving towards the palace for work, dialing the number of someone he knew would be there. The other line rang for a few moments, and Lorcan wondered if he wouldn’t answer. But, there was finally a click and an irritable voice barking through the speaker.

“What the fuck do you want, Lorcan?”

Lorcan couldn’t stop himself from grinning at Rowan’s anger. There were only a few times when his friend would give in to his frustrations.

“I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?” Lorcan asked coyly. Rowan had confided in him earlier that month that he and Aelin had finally decided to try for a baby. Which meant they were having a ridiculous amount of sex.

“You know you did, you ass,” Rowan grumbled. Lorcan heard a soft, feminine laugh from the background followed by the shifting of sheets. It seemed whatever had been happening was now over. “What do you want?”

Lorcan simply blurted it out. “I need to buy a ring for Elide so I can propose but I don’t know where to start.”

There were a few heartbeats of all-encompassing silence on the other end of the call. “Oh. Wow. That’s big news, Lor.”

“Yeah… but, are you busy today? Can you help?”

Rowan released a long sigh. Lorcan could practically envision him running a hand through his short, silver hair. “I would, but to be honest, I wouldn’t know what to do either. I didn’t even pick out Aelin’s engagement ring myself.”

Damn. Lorcan had forgotten about that. They were so damned in love with each other that it was easy to forget about the rocky start to their originally arranged marriage.

“But,” Rowan continued. “I know someone who could help, if you want to call in the big guns.”

“Yeah. Anything. I need to get this right. Elide deserves it.”

“Damn right. I’ll let her know.”

…

The big gun’s Chanel heels clicked noisily on the marble floor of the jewelry shop she had picked out. As princess, Aelin Galathynius held a lot of sway and managed to get them a private shopping appointment at the shop she insisted would have what he needed.

She had spent the morning and the entirety of the ride to the shop giving him a basic understanding of jewelry and what women wanted. He hadn’t even thought about how the band color should compliment skin tone or that there were better ways of cutting diamonds. Some women didn’t even want diamonds as the main stones. Aelin’s own was an emerald. It was far more complicated than he had hoped.

Lorcan had never really spent much time one-on-one with the princess, but he liked her well enough. Her attitude had grated him the wrong when they had first met, but it soon found out that she was actually a good person. Tough as nails, too. She would make a fearsome queen one day.

“I’m not going to pick the ring out for you,” Aelin said shortly, smoothing out her silk skirt. “Elide deserves better than that. But, I can point you in the right direction.”

“Whatever you say.”

The princess gave a curt nod and motioned towards a glimmering display, filled with stunning, beautiful rings. He watched as Aelin ran an expert eye over them.

“These are the best designers,” she explained. “The rings are beautiful and crafted perfectly. Quality. If you want to get Elide something nice, this is where you’d get it.”

Lorcan nodded slowly, looking back towards the countless rings. He felt his nerves build up again as he looked towards them, wondering how the hell he was supposed to know which one was the right one. He felt Aelin’s eyes skipping back and forth from the jewelry to him, and he had no doubt she had already decided which one Elide would like best. He didn’t know if he wanted to thank her or strangle her for not telling him which one it was.

Lorcan took a deep breath, trying to tame his pounding heart. He studied the rows slowly, attempting to find one that he knew would encapture the woman he loved. He was just beginning to think that it was hopeless, that he’d fuck it up no matter what, when his gaze finally caught on one.

It was made of a bright, gleaming silver that twisted gracefully, supporting an oval-shaped diamond. A few smaller diamonds embraced the middle one each side. It was simple, but elegant. Lorcan knew Elide wouldn’t want the ring with the largest diamond on it, wouldn’t want it to be too loud or ostentatious. But this… this was perfect. He could already practically see it perched on her finger.

“That one,” Lorcan said confidently, pointing towards the ring. “That one is perfect.”

He looked towards Aelin, finding her lips spreading in a slow smile. She gave a pleased nod. “That’s an excellent choice. Elide’ll love that one.”

It was in that moment that it fully settled on Lorcan that this was real, that this was happening. He was going to propose to the women he loved. And hopefully she would say yes.

“I’m happy for you, Lorcan,” Aelin said earnestly. “For some reason, your miserable ass makes Elide very happy, and I can see she does the same for you. I’m glad you found each other.” With that, her eyes narrowed slightly and she leaned closer, lowering her voice. “That being said if you hurt her, what I’d do to you would make what I did to Hamel and his men seem merciful. Understand?”

It was easy to forget that under that golden hair and pretty clothes, Aelin Galathynius was a certified bad-ass. One that even Lorcan didn’t want to get on the bad side of. Not that he would ever admit that to her aloud. It would make her already enormous ego that much bigger.

“Believe me when I say,” Lorcan began. “That I am going to do everything in my power to make Elide happy until the darkness claims us.”

Aelin seemed satisfied with that answer. “I do believe you. Now, let’s get that ring.”

…

Buying the ring was only half of the struggle. Now Lorcan had to figure out the best way to propose to Elide.

It was constantly on the back of his mind, no matter what he was doing. At work, in the shower, lounging around the apartment with Elide… it wouldn’t leave him alone.

Neither would Aelin fucking Galathynius. Every time she saw him in the halls, she would bother him with questions about it. Whether or not he had picked a time, or if he was ever going to pull his head out of his ass and ask her at all. It was annoying as hell. He wasn’t going around asking her every thirty minutes if Rowan had finally knocked her up. But… although she was mildly infuriating, it was somehow a pretty good motivator.

After a week and a half of the idea of the ring burning a hole through his mind, Lorcan finally decided it was time.

It was Lysandra’s birthday, and they had all gathered at the palace to celebrate with friends and family. It was a small, private affair, but it didn’t make it any less enjoyable. In fact, Lorcan preferred it over large parties any day.

They enjoyed a nice dinner, everyone wishing Lysandra a happy birthday. She was beaming the entire night with Aedion by her side. Their own wedding was only two weeks away.

Lorcan had struggled to pay attention to the others around him all evening. His attention had been pinned on Elide the entire time. She looked lovely tonight in a silky, violet top and high-waisted white trousers, dark hair falling down her back in a gleaming sheet.

If anyone noted his distraction during dinner, they didn’t say anything. By the time desert had been consumed and they had moved to the parlor for cocktailing, he was nearly jittery. Or as close to jittery as he would allow himself to become.

He had finished one drink before he decided it was time. He was done with playing around.

“Elide, love?” he murmured into her ear from where he was sitting next to her on the couch.

“Yes, Lor?” she asked, turning towards him. Her fair cheeks were flushed from either the wine or laughing with her friends, dark eyes practically sparkling with happiness. The sight made his heart swell.

“Will you come with me for a bit?”

Elide raised a dark brow in question but nodded, placing her glass on the low table before her. Most of the room was too lost in conversation to notice them slipping quietly away, but Aelin’s sharp eyes landed on him. She was tucked under Rowan’s arm, lips spreading in a slow, knowing smile. As soon as Elide’s back was turned, the princess mouthed, Good luck.

Lorcan refrained from scowling at her, slipping his hand into Elide’s and guiding her gently out of the parlor.

The halls were dark and quiet, the light of the full moon bathing the marble floors in a pale glow. It almost felt as if they were the only two people in the world. Lorcan wouldn’t have minded that one bit.

The ring box felt like a massive weight in his pocket as he held Elide’s hand tighter.

“What are you up to, Salvaterre?” Elide asked playfully, leaning into his side.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“A surprise?”

“You’ll see.”

Elide narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. She was too smart for her own good. It was one of the things he loved about her. Lorcan wouldn’t put it past her to figure out what he was about to do before he did it. He could only hope that the gods were on his side tonight.

Lorcan led Elide outside towards the gardens. They were a beautiful space, taken meticulous care of throughout the year, filled with trimmed bushes and aromatic flowers. The summer air was comfortably warm, filled with the scent of night-blooming jasmine. With the light of the stars above them and the privacy, it was a perfectly romantic spot.

Lorcan led Elide over to a low, white stone bench situated before a tinkling fountain. He urged her to sit, taking the spot beside her, refusing to release her hand. He rubbed his thumb in slow circles over the smooth skin of her knuckles.

Lorcan tried to will words to his mouth, but it seemed the nerves had finally taken hold, making it far more difficult than he was used to.

“Elide,” he finally managed to rasp out, lifting his gaze to meet hers. “You mean the world to me. I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my lifetime. You know that, right?”

Elide smiled softly and nodded, placing her palm on the side of her face and looking deeply into his eyes. “I know. And I love you just the same.”

He didn’t think ELide would ever understand just how much those words meant to him. He was undeserving of a woman like Elide, but he would try every day of his life to become worthy of her.

“Elide…” Lorcan breathed. “You’re the love of my life. I treasure every day, every moment, I get to spend with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you… if you’ll have me.” With that, Lorcan slid from the bench to the ground, getting down on one knee on the soft grass. He pulled the velvet box from his pocket, prying it open and holding it out towards Elide, feeling as though he was holding his very heart out in his hands.

Elide gasped and slapped a hand over her chest, eyes wide.

“Elide Lochan…” Lorcan said lowly, watching her face as her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes began to glisten in the silvery moonlight. “Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

The single second of silence that followed his question was excruciating. But, eventually Elide relieved his suffering by choking out a sob and nodding.

“Yes, Lorcan,” she gasped. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

Lorcan released a breathy laugh, almost unable to believe that she had actually said yes. He recovered from his shock quickly, taking Elide’s hand within his own and slipping the ring on to her finger. He had been right, it did look perfect on her.

“It’s beautiful, Lorcan,” Elide whispered, looking at the diamond for one more moment before launching herself at him. Her arms wrapped around the back of her neck as her lips came crashing down upon his. Lorcan didn’t hesitate before sweeping her up in his arms and rising, kissing the woman he loved, his fiancé, deeply.

“I love you so much,” Elide murmured against his mouth, laughing and crying and kissing him.

“I love you too, Elide. So much.”

Lorcan’s heart had never been fuller.

…

They stayed in the quiet gardens for a bit longer, lounging in the peace and privacy they provided. Lorcan held Elide the entire time, whispering in her ear about how beautiful she was and how excited he was to marry her.

But, eventually they decided to head back inside to their friends and break the news.

Elide wore a smile on her face the entire walk back. Lorcan had a matching one of his own.

As they reached the threshold, the low murmuring of voices faded away, all eyes on them. Neither he nor Elide said anything at first, only wearing those grins.

Eventually, Aelin sat up straighter, and demanded, “Well?!”

Lorcan looked down at Elide as she slowly raised her left hand higher, showing off her new ring. “We’re getting married!”

The room erupted into shouts of surprise and congratulations. Not all of them had known what Lorcan had planned to do. He figured the less people who had known the better, especially since Fenrys had a big, fat mouth.

Lorcan dealt with the attention the best he could, accepting a hug from Lysandra, clasping forearms with Aedion and Rowan, and shoving Fenrys away when he placed a smacking kiss upon his cheek.

Once the initial surprise had gone away, they all moved to sitting down once more. Aedion grabbed a bottle of champagne and popped it open to celebrate.

“Being engaged is all fun and games until it comes to the wedding planning,” Lysandra sighed dramatically. From across the room, Rowan gave a tiny grunt of agreement as Aedion nodded solemnly. “It’s so much work. You just want everything to go perfect. I’m still stressing about ours.”

“I’m sure everything will be great,” Elide assured her. “For both of us.”

“Yeah, and just think about it,” Aelin added, running her fingers through Rowan’s short hair. “No matter what happens at either of your weddings… it won’t be nearly as bad as our first one.”

A beat of silence.

Lorcan watched as Rowan looked up towards his wife disapprovingly. “That’s still not funny, Aelin.”

“It’s a little funny. It’s okay to laugh.”

Although Rowan didn’t take her up on that offer, the rest of them released tiny chuckles. It wasn’t much longer that they were back to rapid-fire conversation and rambunctious laughter. Rowan and Aelin as well as Aedion and Lysandra shared stories about the woes of wedding planning. Although it did seem daunting, Lorcan held no doubt in his heart that they would persevere.

He glanced back down at Elide, the woman that he loved, before brushing a kiss over the top of her hair. She leaned deeper into his side, snuggling close.

Every minute of work would be worth it to call Elide his wife.

#elorcan #one night standards #ons one shot #my writing #throne of glass

[honeytea8]

Virtue & Vice • Dio Brando/Reader

A/N: Discord prompt for the week was Masquerade AU, so I decided to write for Dio Brando, using @sammystep’s beautiful bedroom and mask renders as inspiration 😏 (seriously, they are amazing, so check them out at the end of the fic!!); Also written to be gender neutral, so please let me know if I messed up anywhere!

Word Count: 2.9K

Summary: With your estranged cousin in a town full of rumors and ghost stories, it’s rather obvious you’re in for an interesting weekend. Somehow, you catch the eye of an insatiable beast, and whether you manage to survive him is left completely up to you.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Subtle references to Stone Ocean, heavily implied sexual content, Dio monologuing lol

In every city you’ve visited, there was always talk, and by talk, you meant gossip. Grapevines grew from thin air, spreading until the town was entangled in a sickness you liked to call Hearsay. You had witnessed this far too many times in the past, the novelty having worn off a long time ago. But on occasion, you liked to lend an ear to the particularly interesting ones—stories that left you searching for that innocuous sliver of truth amidst fairy tale.

Most times, however, it was merely a drunk spewing his usual nonsense to any person willing to listen. You were rarely ever an audience to such. Still, nothing quite chilled your bones like the tale recounted by one of the strangest men you’ve ever met.

It had been late in the evening, but not too late that the barmaid was not still serving homemade pies and cold drinks to her patrons.

A man only a few years older than yourself was perched on a rickety wooden chair nearby; it gave a high-pitched squeak every time he shifted. He had been there upon your arrival and would likely be there after you were gone. His clothes were drenched in sweat, boots caked in mud. You noticed him observing you from under the brim of his ten-gallon hat, though the rest of his face remained hidden. The nearest available seat just so happened to be right by his own, you hesitated, but ultimately took it.

Your fingers were frozen like cubes of ice and you breathed on them in a fruitless attempt to help them thaw. The barmaid made her rounds and eventually came to you. Only then were you able to order something to warm you up, a simple cup of coffee would suffice. You sat silent and unassuming, content with minding your own business until a gruff voice reached out to you, almost as if his words grew an arm and gripped your shoulder.

“Yer face,” he muttered in your direction. “S’like someone I can trust.”

You blinked at him. The implications behind his words were not lost on you. In fact, it was something you heard quite often. For your own mother had delivered you into a cruel world, and was quick to brand you with a trademark that has followed you for as long as you could recall: an angel.

In return, people seemed to gravitate towards you—were always intrigued by you, listening and speaking to you, soothed by your very nature and presence. It was a gift, you supposed. And like any gift, you preferred to use it for good. Whether it be to share in another’s burdens, or to relieve them of it entirely.

“Is there something you would like to share?” you replied back.

He hummed, then took a long swig of his whiskey in preparation. “Yeah, somethin's kept me up fer days actually.”

“What has?”

“I used ‘ta butle for a lord here in this town—hmm, well ta be frank it was only for a lil’ while... was dismissed soon after.”

The man continued without giving any clear answer to your question, but you assumed a bit of patience would grant you the full story.

“I'm sorry about your job.” you said out of courtesy, but he waved you off.

“Don’t be. S’better this way.” he took another sip, draining the glass in one go and waved for another round. “You believe in heaven?”

“Heaven? Like… the place where good people go when they pass on...? I—I’m not too sure.”

“S’alright.” he smiled for the first time, wide lips stretching across his face handsomely. He looked rather boyish with his half dimple and cleft chin. His expression was almost endearing. You figured he might’ve been quite the charmer when sober. “Name’s Hol Horse, by the way.”

“Hol Horse, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduced yourself as well, to which he tipped his hat in greeting. The whole exchange was rather odd, but you went along with it for the sake of your own budding curiosity.

Hol Horse cast a wary glance around the room. You too chanced a brief look, but not as thoroughly as your companion. Obviously, no one was listening. You smiled and silently encouraged him to surrender the burden laying heavy on his conscience.

Hol Horse gave you his story. Some parts he gave in detail—others he offered in threadbare comments, giving only the minimum for you to catch the gist. From what you could piece together, he had worked as a servant under a young lord in the countryside. It was a large estate left behind by a ‘Sir Joestar’ who had passed away many years ago due to illness. His only adopted son was left to inherit the fortune, along with several of the businesses in town. That was as far as Hol Horse knew, more surprisingly, he had never even laid eyes on his employer during his tenure. Any and every form of correspondence was made through the lord's right hand.

At one point, you were beginning to wonder what picture Hol Horse was trying to paint here. Why did any of this matter? Regardless, it was the earnest pull of his voice that kept you rooted to your seat. That, and the fact that he had seemed to grow even more...disturbed the longer he spoke. His brows were pinched while he thought, showing his great displeasure. You truly hoped, for his sake, that confessing whatever was killing him inside would finally put his heart at ease.

In a lowered tone, he revealed the true cause of his troubles. He had spotted a number of bloodied sheets being carted away from his lord’s sleeping quarters, men and women’s clothing torn to shreds and disposed of in an incinerator. Certain staff members with superhuman strengths and abilities. Phantoms, ghosts, demonic spirits. All culminated by the devastating amount of missing persons. These were some serious, and if you were honest, strange allegations.

“My apologies,” you interrupted, “but I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m sayin’ that some crazy shit’s goin’ on in this town, and I wouldn’t feel too inclined ta stay if I were you.”

You pursed your lips, far too stunned for words.

“Heaven.” he uttered like a curse. There was a sudden quiver in his lips, that sent a chill racing down your spine. It wasn’t just about ‘heaven’. More specifically, Hol Horse was convinced there existed a way to call it forth.

The sheer ridiculousness of this statement seized your attention. The man was so obviously intoxicated, but spoke like these were irrefutable facts that he too struggled to come to terms with.

A heaven within the reach of mere mortals? Powers no man had any business wielding? It was absolutely ludicrous! But your gut, which had saved you countless times in the past, urged you to not cast this tale aside.

You wondered if this made you a fool.

.

.

.

You had only come to this town per invitation from a distant, older cousin. And while distant by blood, she was also distant to you in nearly every other aspect as well. You and your cousin, Gwess, scarcely saw one another due to a series of familial barriers. By all accounts, you should be wary of her, but she was also newly married now, and you supposed her only desire was to rekindle your long-neglected relationship.

Marriage, children, a home—it had a way of changing people. You were unsure if you could genuinely relate to her feelings, but you would not stop her from trying to rebuild something, even if that something had never truly existed in the first place.

For whatever reasons, your cousin had you set up in a hotel instead of her guest house. You didn’t take it personally, after all, it was her home to do with as she pleased. The hotel suite was lavish; far be it from you to complain.

Clean, white walls, with an intricate gold motif wallpaper, Persian carpeting, high thread-count sheets made from the whitest Egyptian cotton. At your bedside were red roses that added a bit of color and warmth to the room, and near the window was a mini-bar stocked with various alcoholic beverages should you choose to indulge.

Courtesy of Gwess, your outfit for the night’s festivities hung on the bathroom door, zipped up in a garment bag to keep it from either soiling or wrinkling. She had gifted it to you along with a mask for the masquerade ball, though, you felt a sudden trepidation bubbling in your stomach at what awaited you; like a premonition of something to come, it weighed on your chest, and you tried desperately to swallow it down.

Hol Horse’s words from the previous night continued to haunt you in broken fragments. He had warned you not to stick around but it wasn’t like you were staying much longer. Just one more night.

Still, you worried. With the sound of your heart thumping in your ears, you drew out the lace and chiffon clothing from the bag that had kept it hidden from you until now.

A feeling you could not explain washed over you at the sight of what Gwess brought for you to wear. It was white with wing-like patterns sewn down into the material just below the blades of your shoulders. You considered the meaning of this as you donned the outfit and fixed the mask over your face. Mockery perhaps? Who could say?

Gwess greeted you in the hotel lobby with open arms and a warm smile.

“Cousin!”

“Gwess.” You murmured with a nod and a small tilt of your lips. “You look well.”

She grinned, eyes crinkling, “Don’t I?” Gwess gave a twirl, showing off one of her newest purchases. A thinly strapped designer gown with silver embroideries and little birds stitched at the hem and sleeve. In her hands was an extravagant mask covered in jewels and... real life bird feathers. You assumed so, given the traces of blood still on them. Ever the beauty, your cousin was. Her husband, being a lawyer working under a prominent firm in town, made sure that his dearest Gwess wanted for nothing; inherently enabling her rather eccentric hobbies, like mutilating tiny animals and using their remains as accessories.

.

.

.

The venue was a large ballroom not too far from the hotel. It was beautifully decorated with crimson and gold ornaments and glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The festivities were already in full swing. Peals of laughters, thundering music, flashing lights. It was increasingly overwhelming. The event was more of a bacchanal for the rich and wealthy, a hedonistic gathering for the town’s upper echelon. It was almost ceremonial.

To make matters worse, you lost sight of Gwess, or rather, she had ditched you for a group of familiar faces. So, you wandered about on your own. There were a startling amount of guests, it felt almost like eyes were on you at every moment. Bodies pushed on all sides of you as you struggled to make your way through to a less crowded area. The sick feeling in the pit of your stomach bred more fear and anxiety, until you felt the urge to vomit right then and there.

Escaping into the open balcony was your only form of solace, and perhaps you’d remain there for the rest of the evening. Though, how could you have known that in doing so, you would inevitably find yourself within the crosshairs of an apex predator.

By his third victim, Dio was beginning to think that none of his ‘esteemed’ guests had brought a worthy sacrifice. A sneer curled at his lips as he watched them from his seat above. They were like monkeys, dancing for his entertainment, but unfortunately, he was far from entertained. He lounged back in his seat with a deep sigh.

Dio Brando did not believe in chance or coincidence. He did not believe in a being beyond the proverbial curtain, pulling on strings and orchestrating the whims of humanity. But lately, he’d been feeling a bit of a premonition. Nothing alarming, just an inkling of something he couldn’t quite place. And even after speaking to Enrico at length—

Dio paused in his musing, having caught sight of something in his peripheral.

With purposed steps, he followed the instincts deep within him, a visceral tugging in his gut, until he was greeted with the sight of your back. Poised like a sharpened blade, clothed in white; you stood underneath the lantern’s glow, like an angel hand-delivered to his doorstep. Utterly enticing.

You turned, gazing over at him with a peculiar look in your eyes, like that of a cautious doe in the presence of a hunter. The mask you wore shielded the majority of your face, but you were not someone he recognized. The clothing you were wearing made him all the more interested in finding what lay beneath.

Even from this distance, he could see the light sheen of sweat on the back on your neck. The subtle quake in your shoulders was not hidden from him either, even the bob of your throat as you swallowed.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he finally asked.

You were not expecting the man to speak since he looked so dead set on staring at you. “I don’t mind at all.”

You shifted over a little, an unnecessary action, seeing as there was plenty of room for the both of you. The fresh air did well in calming you down. But the sudden appearance of this man and his wolfish gaze was putting you back on edge. In any other instance, his very aura would have sent you running for the hills, but for some reason, you couldn't even bring yourself to move.

“You aren't enjoying yourself,” he noted with a teasing smile. “Does that make me a terrible host?”

You fumbled for a minute, stuttering over your words while trying to find an appropriate answer that wouldn’t offend him too much.

“C-Certainly not. It’s, um, no fault of your own. These kinds of things never interested me in the first place.”

You tried to avoid looking him in the eye when you responded but that proved to be impossible. His eyes were such a beautiful shade of scarlet. You half-wondered if they even came in that color naturally. He licked his lips, and for a second you caught sight of a sharpened canine.

“One could say that I am looking for something. Why else would I throw such an affair?”

Curious, you angled yourself a bit closer to him.

“Do you believe in gravity, dear?” he brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “That might be the reason why I’ve found you. You feel it too, that innate pull that can’t be explained.” he drew you closer until you were chest to chest. “It’s why you can’t walk away even though you’re frightened. I think we were fated to meet each other here.”

A wind blew as he said those words, tussling his gold spun hair, as if nature itself were confirming his words.

“Don’t you believe in destiny? That our lives are fate’s ultimate composition; a song that plays from the moment we take our first breath until we breathe our last.”

He was standing so close, close enough that you could smell the hint of cinnamon in his cologne and... blood...on his breath. It was making you dizzy, but you were also surprised to find that you wanted him to kiss you. And once that thought was acknowledged, it blossomed into a heady desire that was slowly taking over your entire body. You wanted him, the monster behind the mask.

“What say you, dear? Are you still frightened by me?” he laughed. “Don’t be. You and I are the same.”

“I’m...not afraid.” you said and placed a hand on his chest. It pleased him to hear you say it, even if your body betrayed your words. He leaned forward with one arm wrapped around your waist and gave a long, languid lick to a stripe of your skin, your perspiration was no deterrent at all, in fact he rather enjoyed it. Being this close to you gave him a vision of depthless oceans behind his eyelids with the taste of saltwater on his tongue and algae under his feet.

It was cathartic.

Indeed there were cleaner ways to do this, but he liked the pulse of your jugular beneath his tongue. He let his fangs sink into the flesh of your neck, puncturing your skin all the way through. Your fingers gripped his clothes, but not out of pain. The immense pleasure washing over you felt unlike anything you could ever imagine. Puffs of your warm breath coasted against the shell of his ear. You were far past the point of return.

.

.

.

In the final act, you laid naked in your hotel bed underneath blood speckled sheets. Your neck was throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the pleasant soreness between your thighs.

Dio, the name of your new god, hovered over you bare as the day he was born with an arrogant smile on his lips. Your wrists were bound with the strips of cloth torn from your body. You couldn’t reach him but your gaze still roamed the hills and valleys of his muscled chest in an act of worship and devotion.

An angel, they had called you. But what was angel without a fall from grace? It seemed in order to know virtue, one must first acquaint themselves with vice.

#JJBA #jojo’s bizarre adventure #Dio Brando #Dio x Reader #Dio Brando x Reader #Masquerade AU #jojo #Dio #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #3D Renders

[phoenixtakaramono]

SUMMARY: Let it not be said that Shen Yuan didn’t know how to be an accomplished—arguably better—writer than Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky! A middle-aged author in his hubris, he’d unknowingly triggered his fate and had his consciousness whisked away into an unfathomable mystical world that he would later learn to be based on Proud Immortal Demon Way and his very own work-in-progress. When given the opportunity to customize his character’s stats and to design his one remaining Customizable Skill Slot, as a veteran reader of transmigration stories and their tropes, Shen Yuan demanded, “Grant me the protagonist’s halo of course!”

The SYSTEM was silent all but for a minute.【Understood. Unique Skill "PROTAGONIST'S HALO" activated. Esteemed Host, you share the Unique Skill "PROTAGONIST'S HALO" with one other.】

“Who?”

【This world’s Luo Binghe. From the original novel series.】

“...Hold on, I need some time to process this.”

(Little did Shen Yuan know that this world’s Luo Binghe is the same sadistic “Bing gē” from the released Extra short story. It was also too bad that Shen Yuan, in his mortal form, resembled Shen Qingqiu by a good thirty-to-forty percent.)

This was the second time they’d held hands. Fingers threaded together, palms touching. A significant amount of information could be communicated in the simple act of taking someone’s hand—the shape and texture of it, the roughness or softness of the life they’d led, and the strength or fragility of their grip. Luo Binghe would remember the feeling of that pale hand gripping his tightly for the rest of his life.

The mist billowed under Luo Binghe the moment he was allowed entry into the dream realm of the divine. Instantly, he was besieged with the feeling of falling into a frozen lake. The cold was a shock through his body, forcing his hand to convulsively clamp down as he stumbled.

Foolish, Luo Binghe berated himself. To have been finally welcomed inside the dream realm of a celestial being meant this version of his shizun had thought highly of Luo Binghe and his constitution. Yet instead of a composed and dignified air, Luo Binghe had just shown his weak side.

Shen Yuan halted midstride. Concern was written upon those white brows upon seeing his reaction.

It was, nonetheless, an opportunity. Luo Binghe forced an amiable smile as he pretended to be oblivious, masking any sign of his discomfort as he leaned against Shen Yuan’s weight. The sensation of pins-and-needles assailing him wasn’t something he couldn’t tolerate, but it was unpleasant. Except for their one point of contact, no part had been spared. His gaze lingered on the long scholarly fingers wrapped trustingly around his, before sweeping a glance over their new surroundings.

He felt like he’d stepped into a world composed of silk screens. Ahead, the fine mist passing through the painted scenery shrouded the outline of the tall mountain range and forest. Even the walls of the buildings were composed of firm brushstrokes and soft ink wash.

Since Luo Binghe had difficulty walking, Shen Yuan had to support him. Both men, mutually depending on each other, took slow steps forward.

Droplets of water splashed quietly from their strides as Shen Yuan guided him in the direction of whatever he’d wanted Luo Binghe to see. Like black ink that had been dipped into clear water, the transparent surface was beginning to darken with each tread that Luo Binghe took.

He stared down at his feet. The sight of the ink and water swirling into one another as though they were made to be together gave rise to the tide of emotions which had been circulating within his mind.

In the newly fallen darkness, he could sense his companion had fallen into another state of deep contemplation. As the two men disembarked in companionable silence, Luo Binghe took a long, measuring look at the landscape—at the secrets hiding within the fog, behind the translucent silks.

The atmosphere was incomparably resplendent and harmonious, yet it painted an undeniable fact about his companion. Knowledge could be gleaned of how this revered existence perceived the outside world. Life was a flow of changes—transient and ephemeral. Being in this realm didn’t feel real, with the indifference of an observer who was transcendent and so far removed from the mortal scale.

They were truly opposites—not only in their physical appearance and status, but also in how their dream realms manifested.  

“…You’ve always had an unruly habit to roam and draw unnecessary attention to yourself!” An insidious and vicious whisper brushed against Luo Binghe’s mind like a wisp of smoke. “ It’s impressive you can even move so well inside this barrier. To think you’d chase him here on impulse!”

Hearing the litany of grievances, Luo Binghe hid the blade that was his smile. Unlike himself, he had no doubt that his senior might have been exorcised had he not taken refuge in Luo Binghe.

Because however convincingly Meng Mo conveyed his displeasure, his voice was nonetheless weakened by the barrier. He was merely being crotchety to maintain appearances.

Shen Yuan had made it clear that his invitation into his dream was extended to Luo Binghe only. With that one remark addressing the senior dream demon, and by performing the gesture of taking his hand, it couldn’t have been even more obvious what he’d wanted.

Earlier, Luo Binghe had gambled that on this fateful evening that the celestial fortuneteller would have no choice but to attend to his growing fatigue. His guard would be lowered and that was when the opportunity would present itself.

The practice of invading and manipulating a person’s dreams was nothing new. With his secret tutelage cultivating on the demonic path, beginning when he’d been a mere Cang Qiong Mountain sect disciple, he had learned to infiltrate many minds. Several had been his lovers—the first being his shījiě, accidental as it had been pulling his martial sister along with him—although the treatment his women received was far more considerate than the cruel methods he inflicted upon all those who opposed him.

He had seen the duplicity of people’s hearts and reproduced illusions of varying natures. He’d learned how to lure others when they were at their most defenseless and be able to find their worst fears and memories to inflict the maximum psychological torment. With his enemies who were impervious to physical torture, few could claim immunity upon being confronted with their own inner demons. And with his lovers, he could skim their memory fragments and indulge any spring dreams either of them had fantasized about, causing romantic feelings to overflow.

Because unlike the waking world, the dream realm was honest.

The capability to doubt was stripped away. Memories could be spied on. Falsehoods were exposed. And no secrets could be kept from him. Oftentimes one’s impulses could not be held back within the dream realm.

It was a glimpse into one’s truest state.

Meng Mo’s withered voice interrupted his thoughts.

“The ways of those of the Heavenly Realm are mysterious—but they are proud and have always held contempt for our kind. I know you are captivated by him, but be more prudent in choosing your words around him. Don’t be muddled in the head just because you believe he can replace the late Qing Jing Peak Lord….” Ridicule had crept into Meng Mo’s tone. “His looks aren’t bad but to have aspirations of eating the tofu of someone who bears the farseeing, discerning eyes of the Heavens…. Your ambition is bold, as is your guts. This elder doesn’t know whether to be impressed or scold you for your shamelessness.”

Although his lips had thinned into a white line, Luo Binghe remained silent.

Water shaped its course according to the nature of the ground over which it flowed. Tonight, many of his initial plans had been waylaid. Although he couldn’t have predicted its trajectory, he wasn’t discontent with the final outcome. He’d gained information that would be invaluable to him—and he’d finally found his shizun.

There had been a quiescent anticipation in the night as Luo Binghe waited like a spider spinning its web, searching and reaching for the only mind of this residence who was of interest to him, until he’d finally sensed the faintest reverberation of the otherworldly and ephemeral—a presence that could only belong to him.  

And he’d pulled.

As someone who used to humbly occupy the Mortal Realm, never in his imagination did Luo Binghe expect he could claim success to the achievement of accessing the dream realm of divinity.

The rush of triumph had been dampened once, upon seeking Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe encountered a Qi-condensed barrier—a mental defense meant to repel demonic influences. Impenetrable even against the combined efforts of himself and his senior who had centuries worth of infiltration experience, no matter how much he’d concentrated—redirecting the violent and rough flow of his Qi into something more finessed—he was unable to cross the boundary.

Luo Binghe had been stuck at an impasse. Breaching the barrier would require a much greater display of force, inflicting irreparable mental harm onto the dreamer.

He’d realized the barrier had to stay.

The passage of time was immeasurable in the world of dreams, but with every moment that had passed without the precious person inside revealing himself, the fear had mounted. Perhaps Shen Yuan had predicted such an incident would occur and had taken precautionary measures.

In hindsight, his action had indeed been too rash.

It was inevitable that they would be going their separate ways in the coming morning. Moreover, the last deep impression he’d leave behind would cast Luo Binghe in an extremely bad light, with Shen Yuan withdrawing back into seclusion and harboring a grudge for being taken advantage of. The opportunity would have slipped through Luo Binghe’s fingers like granules of sand.

All would be lost. Faced with the possibility of being abandoned, Luo Binghe had been inconsolable. The tension in the air around him had been so thick, it’d presented an oppressive miasma in his own dream realm.

The giant boulder which weighed down his heart vanished when, with the keen senses of a cultivator, his five senses had detected a ripple in the fog.

From faraway, he’d been spellbound. He’d seen a silhouette resembling that from legend, with the unattainable white moon that was Shen Yuan descending down from the stars which glistened like shards in the night.

Despite the offense, he had chosen to come to Luo Binghe from his own volition.

Another realization had struck Luo Binghe. Seeing the regal figure out of his immaculate finery—dressed down to his inner clothing and with his moonlit hair undone, without a headpiece in sight—was a rare sight beyond measure. Aside from the servants who tended to their master, no one else must have seen him in such a compromising state.

It’d also been fascinating observing how someone of the Nine Heavens would interact within his world; Shen Yuan had assimilated quickly. Wandering aimlessly in an unfamiliar environment, his appearance reminded Luo Binghe of the purest white snow, high above and unreachable, the likes of which remained untarnished. Such bearing was similar to what Luo Binghe expected for somebody of high status. Like a fairy unaffected by mortal matters, Shen Yuan’s manner had been aloof and vague. The only difference was that his attitude toward Luo Binghe had not been uncaring. Courtesy had been given, even knowing who he was—and what he’d done, and would be capable of doing.

There was no one who could deny Shen Yuan’s appearance was picturesque. When he was smiling, it was as moving as spring flowers and the autumn moon. When he was lost in thought, he projected an air of melancholy—solemn and ambiguous, like the subject of a painting one could only admire from a distance.

“…Xiōng dì.” A cultured and steady voice trickled into Luo Binghe’s awareness, pulling him from his deep reflection.

An invigorating energy suddenly blanketed him. All discomfort fled, replaced with the refreshing feeling of a spring brook engulfing him. Shen Yuan had fallen a step back so that they were now shoulder to shoulder.

Shen Yuan’s gaze was appraising as his breaths feathered the fur. “I had not expected you being here would be strenuous on you. Please take care of your body.” A hand went up to clasp him on the shoulder. “Endure the skinship. I think, for now, it’s better to stay close to me until you can stand on your own. You’ll be safer by my side.”

Luo Binghe inhaled sharply.

“Hoh. How considerate!” Meng Mo’s dryness filtered into his thoughts. “He treats you very well. Such goodwill. He certainly has a good heart.”

Stay out of this, Luo Binghe rebuked. You are not invited to take part in this conversation. Scram!

Replying in the affirmative though, he ducked his head. The hidden meaning of Shen Yuan’s words had not been lost on him. He simply hadn’t expected how protective Shen Yuan was of him.

In this lifetime, Luo Binghe would like to think he could recognize his shizun even if he turned into ashes—or took on a different appearance. Even the slow-witted were able to see that Shen Yuan was of different temperament, reminding Luo Binghe of the other “Shen Qingqiu” of the mirror world. This fortuneteller had a sincere and utterly honest personality, thoughtful and broadminded. Even when blood was shed, he didn’t condemn Luo Binghe.

This night was the first time they’d met, but it was undeniable that there was a flow to their conversations—as though they were not strangers but were, instead, dear friends reuniting. It was as if someone had seen the unfulfilled desires of his heart and had crafted him a companion to be compatible. Being with Shen Yuan felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Embracing him had felt natural.

Although he was a man, Shen Yuan had fit so perfectly in his arms. The firmness and strength of his body. Warm and solid. Alive and real. It hadn’t been the same as hugging a soft feminine figure but even now, Luo Binghe could recall how it’d felt folding him into his arms, at the simple pleasure of sharing body heat. Of inhaling his clean scent.

Being that close to him, the intimacy of such an act, had been so strangely powerful the connection between them had felt tangible.

Here was somebody meant to be unattainable and unreachable, whom mere mortals never would’ve had the fortune to meet unless they’d managed to ascend to the highest realm. Knowing that he was supposed to keep all divinity at a respectable distance made his awareness of what he was doing seem all the more enchanting.

There was no such thing as a string of coincidences. Luo Binghe held no illusion of what this really was; a second chance was being offered to him. Since they have finally encountered, it must have meant they were fated. Since fated, one must live up to the fate that the Heavens have bestowed.

(Cont.)

The rest can be read on AO3!

#人渣反派自救系统 #scum villain's self saving system #svsss #bingyuan #bingqiu #luo binghe #luo bingge #the untold tale #svsss fic #fanfic #fanfiction #phoenixtakaramono #look forward to reading 54 pgs in this massive update

[dizzydennis]

Sonic Unleashed on Wii... woof!

Sonic Unleashed is one of my favorite games of all time. It’s flawed, but I really do love everything it has going on... that being on the 360 and PS3. The Wii/PS2 version is an absolute mess!

The game starts with terrible, annoying tutorial stages that are segmented into literal 10 second stages. Chip constantly pops in to teach you about every, single mechanic of the game. It is maddening and he does this all the way up to Shamar!

Boosting is not the same as the 360/PS3 version because Sonic can only boost in small fractions. It’s so annoying and a useless change. The boost also doesn’t go in the direction Sonic is facing, but rather where the camera is pointing which makes it a chore to use it; especially because the game just expects you to not boost on certain sections with no warning. Moreover, boosting into walls gives an admittedly comedic animation of Sonic getting squished. It’s funny like... twice. It’s then aggravating. Does anybody remember that this was intended to be a feature in Sonic 2, but they took it out because it was dumb and not fun? Oh and don’t you dare attempt to boost when you don’t have one of those sections of your boost gauge filled. Because Sonic will stumble and it will slow you down!

The town stages are total jokes and a huge waste of time! Instead of a gorgeous hub world that is fun to explore for each zone, you get these terrible images of a map that you decide where to go. All you have to do is go to specific sections that are marked “New” to progress the story. However, I saw this screen of Chip telling me nobody was in a section more than 10 times. It’s a huge waste of time and gets annoying! This completely kills the impact of the plot and I love the villagers in the 360/PS3 version, but I felt absolutely nothing for them here. There was nothing to enjoy about the town stages. Despite being single images, they were even clunky to progress to the right icon! Progression was clumsy and annoying. There was also a moment when the Dark Gaia creatures attacked Amy and it was like a PowerPoint presentation with really simple quick time events. How embarrassingly crude! You would enter stages and do something only to be tossed back to the map screen with no story consequence. It felt ridiculous.

The Werehog combat is incredibly dull. Credit where credit is due, I love how if you die, the Werehog will be revived instantly. That’s a good change. But the combat is absolutely brain dead in this version. Just mash the L and R buttons on the Gamecube controller. The enemies never, ever makes you think about what you’re doing. It’s just a constant chore and every single time a battle arena spawned, I groaned.

The boss fights are also so lacking. When playing during the Day Time stages, the pace of the boss fights felt broken and sluggish. The werehog boss fights felt clunky. There was no satisfying rhythm to any of them. Even the Egg Dragoon is broken because you can get him into this loop where he can’t even attack you. The one exception is the Dark Gaia boss battle. While I prefer the Super Sonic section in the next gen version, the fight on display here with Chip’s boxing section, the good flow with Sonic’s sections, and even the end part with Super Sonic were enjoyable.

Some bizarre things are also the language options. I am playing the Japanese version, but there is NO English language option. That’s fine because I know this game like the back of my hand and can understand Japanese, but even Sonic and the Secret Rings and Sonic Riders: Zero Gravity had language options. Plus, the amount of cut content is ridiculous. Especially when you consider that the extra missions (which are not fun at all) are just the previous stages being recycled.

The game isn’t complete garbage. As it goes on, it does improve. Some of the stages provide thrills and decent little layouts. However, they’re still marred with the issues I have mentioned. Moreover, it just feels draining and too long. One thing I want to give credit for is the actual aesthetics of some of these stages both for the Day and Night outings. There are some really great environments and displays found through out. These areas feel like very expanded versions of what we saw in the 360/PS3 versions. I also like how each act gets a neat little title like: Scorched Rock or Altar of Oblivion.

Did I have some fun with Sonic Unwiished? Yes, I did and I was smiling during those times. However, it was buried deep under disappointing design decisions and a game that felt more cumbersome than fun.

I stand by this! The fact that this version received much better scores from critics back in 2008 is extremely frustrating when it doesn’t come even close to the achievements of the real versions of this game. I honestly never want to hear people believe this version is better because I am flabbergasted at the idea that anybody would truly believe so! I don’t like this game on Wii/PS2, but I will always marvel at the 360/PS3 version.

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic Unleashed #Sonic World Adventure #Miles Tails Prower #Nintendo Wii

[bigballofstress]

You’re in Love (Tony Stark x Reader)

To @livetosing21

Request:  “Can you do a fic based off the song ‘You’re in Love’ by Taylor Swift for Tony x the reader.  It can be more of Tony’s POV if you’d like.  It’s Tony realized that he’s in love with a much younger reader but it’s okay because he deserves ALL THE FLUFF”

Author’s Note:  Hey I’m so sorry this took absolutely forever.  I’m not gonna lie, it was pretty difficult for me to get started on this one for the simple reason that I don’t listen to Taylor Swift all too much.  Plus, things are super hectic in my life right now.  Still, once I got going, it started to come together pretty quickly.  So anyways, I really hope you like it -- I actually ended up really having a good time with it in the end.

Important Note: (F/D) = Favorite Drink; (I/S) = Important Symbol to you (For instance, something that reminds you of your family)

One look, dark room

Women just for you

Time moved too fast

You played it back

Tony walked into the gala with an unimpressed look on his face. It was his fifth gala this month, and to be quite honest, it was getting old.

Every woman in the room turned their heads as he entered, and he had to choke back a sigh. He was just... so tired of this... this routine of woman after woman throwing themselves at him.  Make no mistake, he loved his life, and he loved the good work that he knew he was doing, but to have people only see him as this undefinable object that they want nothing more than to possess?  To only be wanted for his money, his fame?  It can get pretty disheartening.

Tony made his way through the crowd slowly, doing his best to ignore the feeling of eyes burning into his back.  All he had to do was make a quick donation and get out before anyone could ask him for a dance.  He loathed the endless dancing that came with these kinds of events and the endless dance partners that were simply looking for a way to get close to him and his money.

Wait.

No, something was different here.  Somewhere in this sea of vultures wrapped overly tightly in designer clothing was something better -- something good.

Quickly, he did his best to retrace his steps in his mind, but everything had become such a blur of faces that he almost couldn’t remember seeing the one he was hoping for.

Buttons on a coat

Light hearted joke

No proof, one touch

But you saw enough

He’d seen her before, just a few times, but every single time, he could feel his entire chest restrict.  This time was no exception, of course, and when he saw her all alone, holding her arms close to her chest, he couldn’t help himself.  He couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what that tight feeling in his chest was, but he knew he had to talk to her.

“Fancy seeing you here.”  Stupid.  That was way too cliché, he should’ve come up with something better.  The angry thoughts started racing through his mind at 100 miles per hour before they were stopped by one of the single most beautiful sounds he had ever had the privilege to hear.

Her giggle, like bells chiming on a cold Sunday morning, filled the air between them.  “I thought you knew this was one of my favorite charities,” she questioned, turning that amazingly contagious smile his way.

Tony quickly made a mental note of her words.  He’d had no idea of her favorite charity, but he certainly wouldn’t be forgetting it any time soon.  She shivered, and before he even knew what was happening, he had slipped off his jacket.

“No, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Tony interrupted, gently laying the fabric over her shoulders.  “Besides, it’s not even that cold in here.  I have no idea how you’re shivering.”

The woman scoffed, playing with the golden buttons stitched into the black suit jacket.  “Oh, please, you just don’t realize how cold it is ‘cause your heart is frozen solid.”  And just like that, they had fallen back into that familiar routine of sarcastic comments and witty retorts.  And yet, for some reason, Tony’s heart wasn’t really in the conversation, though he couldn’t figure out why.  

No, that was a lie.  He knew exactly why he couldn’t focus.  His fingers had brushed her shoulders when he’d put his coat on her, and it was enough to send sparks flying up and down his arms.  He simply couldn’t shake off that incredible feeling. 

Small talk, he drives

Coffee at midnight,

The light reflects

The chain on your neck

“I think this party might be dying.  You wanna get out of here?”  Why did he say that?  He knew how young she was; he knew he could never have her.  So why in the world would he ever say that?

“Sure!”  Thank God.

Tony led her to his car out back -- sleek and black, perfectly matching his suit.  He didn’t bother telling Happy.  He would figure things out, he always did.  Instead, he just got in and drove.

That’s how they found themselves alone in a quite little coffee shop in the middle of the night.  He ordered a black coffee.  It tasted different without his usual addition of scotch, but he made a promise to himself not to do that in front of her.  She, of course, was happy with a cup of (F/D).

It took a while for him to notice, but eventually his gaze was drawn from that perfect face to the glint coming off from around her neck.

“You’re wearing it,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off of it for a second, half afraid and half hoping that the necklace she was wearing -- the necklace that he gave to her -- was a trick of the light. 

She smiled, her hands unconsciously reaching up to hold the small pendant attached to the delicate piece of metal.  “It’s my favorite.”

That drew his attention back up, confusion written in the furrow of his brows.  “How?  I know for a fact that you have far more expensive than that.”  After all, the woman was incredibly successful, and he had seen her with more than one piece of jewelry worth thousands.  Of course, she usually wore them as a sponsorship for the makers.  Her main goal was always to donate as much as she could to charity -- just another piece of what made her so incredible.

She sent him a soft smile, enough to reassure him with just a single look.  “It’s my favorite because it was given to me by a friend who truly knows me.  A friend who knows I’d much rather have a piece of jewelry that means something than a rock to hang on my neck.”  She glanced down at the (I/S) resting ever so gracefully in her perfect hands.  “It’s the best gift I could have ever asked for, and I never take it off.” 

She says look up

And your shoulders brush

No proof, one touch

You felt enough

They soon had to leave the coffee shop, afraid that the owners would kick them out sooner or later, and started walking down the sidewalk back to his car.  Tony stared at his feet, his stomach churning at the thought of the night being almost over, knowing he would soon have to leave her.

He couldn’t keep doing this.  He couldn’t keep pining after a woman so much who was practically half his age.  The amount of ridicule that she would face simply for being with him would be endless, and he couldn’t bring himself to do that to her, no matter how much it hurt him.

“Tony, look up!” She screamed.  A hand wrapped around his arm, yanking him away from the street and the speeding car that would have run him down if not for her.

They stared at one another, panting, Tony barely registering the fact that they were shoulder-to-shoulder, and suddenly, it dawned on both of them: they felt the same way.

That’s when she closed the distance between them.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

The memories were playing back in his mind over and over.  He even turned the radio off just so that he could swim through the pleasant memories instead. 

The kiss -- she was the one who lead it, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

The confession -- how she told him that she had liked him since the first time they met, and how it had only grown each time they talked, each of these words filling him with overwhelming happiness as he heard his own feelings being described back to him.

The way back to her apartment -- it was the first time in a very long time that he was taking it slow, but it felt right, especially when she glanced over at him with a wide smile and rosy cheeks as they held hands over the center console.

Before he could blink, he was already in his driveway.  Tony chuckled to himself at his mindlessness and quickly made his way to his room, still replaying the events over in his mind.  He simply couldn’t help himself; it all seemed too wonderful to be true.

And so there he lay in his bed, smiling like an idiot as he stared at his phone.

One new contact: (Y/N) (L/N).

She was too young for him; he knew that, and he knew that a relationship would be unbelievably hard.  Still, he couldn’t help feeling like it was all going to work out and that, as long as she was by his side, he could get through anything.

Tony set his phone down on the nightstand and looked up at the ceiling in the dark, focusing simply on that same tightened feeling in his chest.

He’d known.

From the very beginning, he’d known exactly what this feeling was, he just wouldn’t admit it to himself.

Now, though, he could hold his head high and accept it with pride and joy.

You are in love

#tony stark #tony #tony stark x reader #tony stark fluff #tony stark imagine #tony stark reader insert #tony stark one shot #Avengers #avengers imagine #avengers reader insert #avengers x reader #avengers x you #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #avengers x y/n

[ae0nx]

FRUITS BASKET ‘19 EPISODE 24 VS FRUITS BASKET ‘01 24-26 (PART 2)

Link to Part 1 here

So just to start it off again... I just wanna reiterate...

When I think of the True Form Arc, I think three simple points are vital to be shown:

Kyo’s true form is to be revealed to the audience and to Tohru

Kyo’s past with Kazuma and his mother/(partly)father

Tohru still accepting Kyo and declaring her love need for them to be together and share each other’s pain and joy

Also, if you’re more invested in my review of the 2019 version, scroll further down as most of this is gonna be the 2001 rewritten bits recap. Sorry?

-------------------------------

- Again, I really appreciate that the 2001 version left us with that pre-transformation cliffhanger. It’s a really great separation and keeps us on the edge of our seats. Plus, gives the horror and effects of Kyo’s transformation much needed time. I love the 2019 version too but it could’ve been excellent with a WHOLE episode dedicated to Kyo’s true form transformation rather than just half of one... Plus, aren’t these events are supposed to take course during an entire night leading into morning? 

I can’t decide which iteration of the Kyo transformation I like the most. I just know that the manga version doesn’t live up to the animated versions...

They’re both pretty horrifying and scary and look incredibly painful. I’d probably give it to ‘19 cos Kyo had tears in his eyes as he was transforming which hurt my heart and also just cos you know it’s in high def andddd the transformation isn’t a cloud, it’s fire embers. This is great gore-y content and I’m a little desensitised cos I had to watch/read this scene three times in one sitting so... 

I loveeee Tohru’s resilience. Kazuma’s here saying soliloquies and philosophical questions and Tohru just takes off after Kyo! And the manga and ‘19 version definitely wanted to highlight this message to the upmost: Tohru’s love is so STRONG. And BADASS. But, a part of me also loves the time ‘01!Tohru takes to evaluate the situation cos in all fairness... it is a very shocking reveal (if Tohru wasn’t already shocked enough from them turning into animals)

I like how in ‘01 anime we don’t get the inner monologue of Tohru evaluating what she saw. It leaves the whole notion of Tohru chasing after Kyo a little more mysterious as to whether she will or not. And the silence says it all anyway. Only the sound of the falling rain... I like it better. I tend to lean towards scenes with more action and less dialogue as someone who apparently learns better through visuals rather than dialogue. 

Akito appearing like a fuckin ghoul out of nowhere is still ridiculous haha but I have to give kudos to the ‘01 English VA Chad Cline. He definitely elevates the scene when he says this one sentence:

- I also like that this event (and also Akito) feeds into Tohru’s insecurity of not truly being a part of specifically Kyo and Yuki’s world. Not truly understanding them. She’s been living with them for almost a year by now(?) and I’m sure she felt because she knew the worst secret of them already there couldn’t have been anything even worse. And in a way, she feels cheated? ALSO KYO JUST TURNED INTO A FREAKIN ALIEN CAT MONSTER. I know Tohru’s very much aware that she still has much to learn about them but she couldn’t have predicted this. And it kinda puts her on the level of being an outsider once again. I like that it concentrates on Tohru’s own feelings towards her place rather than just her feelings towards Kyo. 

...I’m gonna get into some heavy 2001!Shigure defending, so I’m sorry if you don’t favour this iteration - stick with me for a sec lol

I’m ignoring all the ‘it’s not accurate, it’s not real’ chants in my head because... LOOK HOW DEJECTED HE LOOKS.

...

2001 gave me everything I wanted from Shigure as a character. Yes, he’s very interesting and conniving and fun as he was originally depicted. But... this Shigure has emotions and is fully showing them! That’s all I FUCKIN WANT. I just want him to show that even though he’s making these dangerous moves and manipulating people for his own benefit, that he has a conscious that is eating away at him and eventually will break. It may be too early in the story for an event like this to take place but I do appreciate that it’s shown. I get very frustrated with the fact that Shigure stays somewhat the same throughout the course of the manga but I guess the only person who does stay the same in the story is the narrator...

- I don’t know if the director of the 2001 version knew that they only had one season to translate Fruits Basket somewhere in the making of these three episodes, or even before. But, it definitely shows with the choices they make with the inclusion of Shigure, Uo, Hana, Kagura and Yuki in the search for Kyo. It’s almost as if they read future arcs and felt to just mash an iteration (or bastardisation) of it to try and conclude the whole story... which was quite a desperate move.

I also like the way this scene closes.

👌🏾

I actually really like this moment from Kagura! She’s actually being mature! And rational... and sort of letting go of Kyo at the same time. I do think if Fruits Basket ‘01 was given another season, it would’ve been fleshed out (obviously) but it’s such a great moment. Again, these are all signs that the end was nigh and they felt they had to tie up all the character arcs that were involved very quickly and I don’t necessarily blame them for trying. It just made them look a bit silly when looking from a 2019 view.

- But yeah, Yuki being involved is a no-no. He felt the most out of place when it comes to ‘characters that should’ve not been involved’. He makes a point when he finds Kyo about how they should both stop running away but it’s not fully fleshed out enough before this event for me or anyone else to care about. It’s kind of unfortunate cos I quite like the concept of Yuki being there especially tying in to how Yuki comes to a realisation of himself and Tohru’s relationship. 

- Also, are Yuki and Kagura tight like that? Lol for him to go rushing after Kyo basically cos she asked? mmmm.... 😓

This is actually my favourite moment from the 2001 version of the True Form Arc! It’s visually stunning and haunting and just... interesting. I like that they included the cats. Cats that would normally gravitate to Kyo but are now taking the voices of haunted figures of his past. Whether it’s in his head or not. 

In general, I felt Kyo’s mental anguish in the ‘01 version was a lot more artistically styled and creative. Very creepy and even more sad.

I do like that Tohru went to her mother’s grave for comfort/guidance before finding Kyo. I probably would’ve included a scene like that myself in the 2019 version as it adds a preliminary to Tohru’s future conflict between her love for her mother and her love for Kyo. AND it also adds time between the night Kyo transforms and the eventual sunrise when she finds Kyo. How far is Kyoko’s grave from the Sohma house? Lol

But yep, Uo and Hana being there was irrelevant but it’s pretty funny that Hana’s waves were used as a last minute explanation as to why they felt they had to attend Kyoko’s grave. But, I guesss the writers wanted to use this as a moment of Uo and Hana letting go of their ‘daughter’ to let her become a woman (reminds me of Yuki’s comment of how he saw Tohru as a woman when she ran after Kyo) and go after her man. It’s a conclusion... but it’s meshed with so many other themes and conclusions that it ALL DOESN’T MATTER. Plus, I don’t really like this as a thing; Uo and Hana will always be Tohru’s surrogate parents. ALWAYS.

Anyway, look at this beautifully depressing visual that ‘01 gave us for THREE EPISODES *sips wine*:

But seriously, while the visuals are so drastically dark compared to rest of the ‘01 season and are dragged out for sooooo longg, it is a very beautifully, depressing design. I love the way that all background music is edited out. Everyone is crying. Everyone is confused. The sound of rain is a constant throughout it. Honestly? It almost broke me cos the heaviness of it is exhausting, haha. And I have to commend it on pure shock value cos ‘01 Fruits Basket was barely dark until this arc. I think that’s what essentially made me adore it when I first discovered the ‘01 anime. I hadn’t read the manga so I didn’t know any better, but the darkness and pain in this arc is so beautifully shown and I feel like people forget that when critiquing the ‘01 version.

They jam packed a whole lot of character arcs in here when really the story should be focused on Kyo and Tohru’s reaction to Kyo. And I honestly, don’t blame them. It’s just too much at once that you don’t get to appreciate any arc at all because it’s not pushed to it’s full potential. It’s mostly just a feeling of sadness... that you later equate into genius...  because it’s sad? Which, I guess, could be seen as manipulatively clever? But now that we have the 2019 version, I think people will be more likely to decipher the bad from the good. Like, I have :)

- BACK TO 2019 VERSION: Wow, Kyo, really took out a whole cliff, huh?

I honestly got impression from the manga that Kyo did push and injure Tohru enough for her to get a huge amount away from him but not so far that she fuckin DIVES INTO A LAKE. My God, this was a bit dramatic lol

Ouch... that wound looks worse in the anime than the manga...

QUEEN TOHRU. I love everything about this.

You guys know I LOVE a good parallel and look at this couple meeting each other’s needs and taking their first steps. I can’t. I’m going to be crying into my wine soon. Nothing needs to be said about this scene, except excellence in ALL AREAS.

🎵TEARS STREAM.

 🎵DOWN YOUUURRR FAAACEEEE

🎵AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII....

I can’t get over Kyo’s face in this moment. I just- MY HEARRRTTTT. GOD TAKE ME. PLEASE. Couples that cry together, stay together. Omggg.

Even if we can’t agree on much when it comes to 2001 vs 2019, we can both agree that Tohru stays being an ethereal goddess. OUTFIT APPRECIATION. LIFE APPRECIATION. I’m so tired. haha.

So in conclusion, I think 2001 succeeded at showing all the three main points of the True Form Arc. I just think it got the message of this being a Kyo/Tohru centric tail a bit misconstrued because they wanted to make this a general zodiac tale of them finding freedom and release through Tohru. And it definitely takes away from the Kyoru centric storyline that runs through the True Form Arc. And while I think the True Form Arc could’ve used another episode in the 2019 version, it’s quite clear that 2019 wins this battle in all areas of it being a more whole and complete yet emotional and stunning version of the True Form Arc.

I would go into what happens at the end of episode 26 in the ‘01 version but it honestly kinda angers and frustrates me? And I’m mentally exhausted soooo, I might go into it some time next week before the next 2019 episode drop. Also, I’ll tie up some thoughts of the ‘01 version of Kyo and Kagura’s date. This was fun! Only took half a day to organise my thoughts, ahaaaa.

#fruits basket #furuba #fruits basket 2019 #fruits basket 2001

[wingsofhcpe]

BSD Rarepair Valentine’s Week- Day 2

hosted by @bsd-rarepair-valentines-week​

pairing: hawmitch

rating: T for safety

prompt:

love languages ♡ enduring

“Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away.”

-Louis de Bernieres, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin 

Beep. Beep. Beep.

There was nothing but still, peaceful darkness for a while, until it was interrupted by a high-pitched, steady sound- quite persistent and annoying, frankly, and slowly Nathaniel drifted out of his slumber. Turquoise eyes snapping open as an instinctive gasp left his lips, and then panic seizing him when he realised he couldn’t anything other than a translucent blurry fog.

It took him a few extra seconds of confusion until he noticed he plainly wasn’t wearing his glasses. That brought some sort of comfort- at least he hadn’t gone blind. Judging by the murkiness of his memories however, he might as well have gone amnesiac.

He let out a breath he’d been holding, allowing his eyes to close for a few minutes longer. Now that he was completely awake, he’d began registering the pain that was present all over his body- and with that, memories began to drift back.

The attack at the Zelda. The battle with Akutagawa. The mafioso’s black thorns closing in on him and Margaret jumping in front of him, taking the hit and-

-Margaret.

Nathaniel almost choked as he remembered those black tendrils spearing Margaret and dropping her on the ground like a lifeless, bloody ragdoll; then her overcoming even those horrendous wounds -ever stubborn, his Margaret- to shield him with her own body from what would have been a fatal hit.

He desperately tried to recall something else, anything that could give him some clue as to his partner’s situation. But there was nothing, no matter how hard he tried. Only the black fog of pain and near-death.

Truly, how many hours he’d even been out for? Well- he hoped it had only been hours and not days, at least. He wasn’t sure what to assume.

Regardless, idleness didn’t suit him; now that he’d recalled Margaret being gravely injured, and him not being up to date with her condition, he couldn’t just sit still. He had to do something, or else he might go crazy- and decided to start by finding his glasses.

The task, albeit simple, ended up requiring a lot more strength than what it should have. Moving even a little was painful. Even with his admittedly high tolerance he had to resort to biting his lips in order to hold back a cry at the sensation of his abdomen being torn open with every breath or movement. Eventually, though, he managed to make out the blurry outline of something that must have been a nightstand by his cot, and by blindly searching along it with his hand he managed to find what he was looking for (though before managing that, he’d ended up knocking down something that was fragile enough to shatter upon impact. Oops).

Slipping his glasses on and finally being able to see, Nathaniel felt a little less desperate. His first reaction was to look around the room, even if it was just to gain his bearings. His concerns proved baseless when he immediately recognised the room he was in as the Guild’s med bay. At least he was home- that was some relief, at least.

The next thing he noticed was the sound that had apparently woken him up persisted, and though still foggy with his previously unconscious state, he was able to identify it as the sound of a heart monitor. Well, he wasn’t connected to one, so…

Breath hitching at his throat, Nathaniel turned his head around to the cot he knew to be in the other side of the room. And he swore his own heart may have as well ceased to function, when he took in Margaret’s unconscious form sprawled across the bed.

No. No no no no no-

“Margaret.” He breathed, voice hoarse with disuse and scraping at his throat. But that was something beyond his care right now; how could he care about anything other than his partner, battered and wounded and perhaps never waking again?

He had to get to her, no matter how weak and injured he was, he had to be with her.

Ignoring all doctor’s advice he was sure Melville would give him if he were there, Nathaniel tore the blanket away from him and sat up, bracing himself for the ordeal of getting up on his feet. It proved to be even harder than he had expected when he felt his right leg seize up, pain shooting up to his hip. However he just gritted his teeth and braced himself against the wall, determined to not let any of it stop him.

It seemed to him like eons, but eventually he limped across the short distance that separated the two beds and gracelessly sit on the edge of Margaret’s being as careful as he could to make sure he wouldn’t harm her any further.

It was hard, keeping himself from tearing up as he saw her lying there, pale and unmoving when she had always been so full of life, brimming with vigour. At least she seemed to be breathing on her own, no oxygen masks or machines attached to her frail body.

“I… I’m sorry…” Nathaniel whispered as his fingers gently touched the back of Margaret’s hand. “This was all because of my own arrogance. Believing we could take on the Mafia without assistance…”

He couldn’t stop the lone tear that escaped his eye and slid down his cheek, landing on top of Margaret’s. He just looked away from her, unable to take in the sight of her at death’s door much longer.

“I was your mentor, you know. I was supposed to protect you. And instead I let you get hurt. You were the one that protected me in the end…”

He wasn’t sure what else to say- apologies didn’t matter, they weren’t going to fix anything and he was going to have to watch her lie there, perhaps never waking up. Withering away and dying, and leaving him behind…

“Hey… are you done cryin’ now, or should Ah be the one to snap you out of it?”

Nathaniel damn nearly fell out of the bed, registering Margaret’s voice amidst his miserable thoughts- for a moment he thought he must have simply gone crazy, the want of seeing her awake and healthy overpowering his senses to the point where he’d began imagining her voice. The following moment, however, he felt her hand twitch under his, and he snapped his eyes -wide with shock and disbelief- back to her.

Margaret was certainly awake, for his eyes met her violet ones, somewhat dull with lingering unconsciousness yet very much aware of him sitting next to her. He could even detect a small amount of annoyance in there, as if she had been bothered by him wallowing in self-pity.

“You- You’re-?!”

“Awake, yes. No thanks to you.” She couldn’t hold back a small smile, though. “Can’t believe you were cryin’ like a little kid just a moment ago. You do really ‘ave a thing for blamin’ yourself about everythin’, hm?”

Against all logic Nathaniel felt his face heating up as all the blood rushed to it. He huffed, the softness that had previously overtaken him vanishing.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I was only worried Lord Francis would be mad at us for failing the mission, that’s all…”

Even as he spoke, he was aware of how empty and ridiculous his excuses sounded. And besides, he was so certain he’d lost her forever a moment ago. No matter how big both their egos were, she was still his partner and- and he loved her, damnit!

“I mean…” Nathaniel lifted his hand a little, letting his fingers tread gently through Margaret’s honey-brown hair, so velvet-soft even in a situation like the one she was in. “I’m so, so glad you’re okay… I thought I’d lost you.”

Perhaps for the first time in his life, he watched as a blush similar to his own bloomed across Margaret’s beautiful, pale face, her eyes widening just the slightest bit.

“Oh… Well… Don’ worry ‘bout it. Ah’m here aren’t Ah.” She winced a little, the pain of her own wounds slowly getting to her. “Dammit. Got us good, that Mafia bastard. But… ya needn’t worry ‘bout me goin’ anywhere Ah promise.”

Nathaniel moved his hand from her hair to her cheek, caressing it gently.

“Please don’t. I fear I’d be completely lost without you.”

“Oh really?” She raised an eyebrow at him, regaining some of her usual confidence even through the pain. “Do remember that, the next time we’ll be trainin’ and Ah beat you senseless.”

“In your wildest dreams, my dear.” He ignored his own pain, leaning down and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Oh- and don’t ever again do something as foolish as the little stunt you pulled. Jumping in front of me? Risking your life? Is your head completely stuffed with straw after all?!”

She pouted, looking away. “That really does seem to be becomin’ your catchphrase… And anyway! Ah couldn’t just let you die you absolute moron! You’re…”

She paused at that, face turning an even darker shade of red as she looked away, suddenly extremely captivated by the intricate designs on the ceiling (Fitzgerald really sparing no expenses even to the decoration of the med bay).

“You’re important to me. Fool.” She muttered eventually. Nathaniel blinked, a little bit shocked to hear such a confession for her; then, surprising even himself, he let out a quiet chuckle.

“Well then, we should both make sure not to put ourselves in such mortal danger again. That way we’ll be even. Am I right?”

For a moment, he thought she’d mock and dismiss him as usual. But then she felt her hand nudge his own, entwining their bandaged fingers together as she turned to look at him. And when she spoke, there wasn’t just good humour in her voice, but a promise as well.

“…Alright then, dork. We should really, really do that.”

#bsdrarepairvday #bsd rarepair vday #day 2 #hawmitch #bsd hawmitch #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fanfic #bsd nathaniel hawthorne #bsd margaret mitchell #bsd hawthorne #bsd mitchell

[chrysalispen]

light they bring you in the dark;

#nero/wol #why am i like this y'all #chrysalispen writes

[artificialqueens]

Beneath the Amber Moon, Part 6 (Galactica AU Group Fic) – TheDane & Veronica

Heyyy!! Welcome to Part 6 of “Beneath the Amber Moon,” a group fic set in the Galactica Universe. Click here for previous chapters.

We hope you’re enjoying it! Let us know what you think!

Summary: Sand witches, sketches, jet skis, and baby influencers.

/////

Courtney skipped down the beach, Julia’s hand in hers, the little girl giggling and running to keep up. She was glad that she had an excuse to avoid the huge buffet and endless sugary cocktails. She’d already indulged quite a bit this week, and knew that any more would only make it even harder to get back into Supergirl-shape for her publicity shoot back in LA. Not to mention, Bianca had given her a look as they disembarked that sent shivers down her spine. But she wasn’t thinking about that, not now...

“This looks good!” she said, pointing to a spot in the sand and handing Julia a bucket. “Can you fill this with water? Then I’ll show you the secret.”

“Okay!” Julia took the bucket and ran off towards the ocean, Courtney spreading out a towel and watching her closely. The water in the bay was calm and gentle, and while she knew the 7-year-old would be fine, she didn’t want any accidents.

“Courtney!”

Courtney glanced up to see Violet, walking down the beach towards her, tote bag in hand.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“I made you something.”

“You did? For me?” Courtney smiled. “What?”

“... A sketch? For the jacket?” Violet said, a small smile playing on her face, as if she couldn’t believe Courtney had already forgotten. “From yesterday.”

“Oh. Right.” Courtney blushed, waving to Julia as she scampered back from the water, now able to turn fully towards Violet.

“So, it’s a truly horrendous piece of… clothing, but I think I made something you might like.” Violet reached into her tote, taking out a thick piece of paper, and Courtney gasped.

“It’s a completely different jacket!” Courtney grabbed the paper, holding it up in the light so she could see it. It was drawn in soft watercolors, but Violet had managed to keep the rainbow theme, the new cut she had suggested giving it a much more current and young vibe, while the simple buttons, the denim material and the strategically placed rhinestones somehow aged it up to almost be appropriate for any adult that actually wanted to wear a full rainbow. Courtney was elated at how much better the new version looked. Maybe her new collection would be wearable after all.

“Hi Violet,” Julia said, settling down in the sand.

“Oh,” Violet shifted. “Hi.” Juju’s twins were at that awkward age where they were almost real people, but not quite, and it was very unsettling.

“Courtney’s gonna teach me the secret to making creepy sand witches’ castles.”

“That’s...nice.”

“Get it? Sand witch?” Julia asked gleefully.

Violet blinked down at her, and Courtney stifled a laugh, putting a hand on the little girl’s back.

“Okay, first we need to make a nice tall mound for the base. That’s right, work on that.” Courtney turned back to Violet. “That jacket is amazing. Have you thought about any of the other designs?”

“I may have...made a few more sketches.” Violet bit her lip, clutching the sketch book. “I was gonna work on some more now...do you wanna go over them...later?”

“Sure!” Courtney grinned up at her. “How do you feel about the title ‘Creative Director’?”

Violet laughed. “Sure.”

“I’m serious.”

“Oh...” Violet looked at Courtney, like she was still searching her face for traces of a lie. “Well... We’ll see.”

“Is this good?” Julia asked.

“That is the most perfect mound I’ve ever seen!” Courtney told her. “Okay, are you ready for the secret part?”

“Yes!”

“Um…so...”

“Do you wanna hang out with us and work here?” Courtney patted the towel beside her, and Violet shook her head. “You sure? I’m about to reveal a pretty cool secret…”

“No thanks,” Violet said with a light chuckle. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.” Courtney smiled again.

“Bye Violet!” Julia called, then clutched Courtney’s arm. “Show me show me!”

“Alright, pumpkin.”

/////

“Oh my god…” Raven groaned with delight, biting into a sugary, cream-filled donut. With a crispy outside and a soft, pillowy center, drizzled with the perfect amount of doce de leite. Heaven.

“You want me to leave you two alone, or…?” Juju teased, taking a bite of her panna cotta.

“Shut up, I’m having a moment,” Raven said.

“Yeah, I can tell. Let me know if you need a change of panties.”

Raven laughed and punched her lightly on the shoulder.

“Just let me enjoy the afternoon, bitch! I have two babies; I never get me time.”

“You have two nannies, too. Your whole life is me time,” Juju countered.

“Okay, do you know what it’s like managing two nannies and a housekeeper? Because that is noteasy.”

“No, can’t say I do. But if I want to know, I’ll be sure to ask Raja.”

Raven let out an indignant little shriek, then picked her donut up again.

“You’re my real friend,” she said to the pastry, taking another bite as Juju laughed beside her.

/////

“Hey, guys.” Alaska approached Courtney and Julia, who were still busy making tall, drippy sandcastles.

“Look!” Julia cried, happily showing off her creation.

“That’s amazing!”

“It’s a castle for a sand witch!”

“Sand witch?” Alaska laughed at the silly pun, while made Julia giggle.

“Courtney taught me how to do this drippy thing, wanna see?”

“Totally.” Alaska knelt down, watching Julia drip the wet sand through her fingers, adding to her already towering castle. “That is a very cool technique.”

“I know,” Julia said, beaming and hugging Courtney around the waist.

“Is there no end to your talent, Court?”

“I’m just trying to stay out of trouble,” Courtney laughed.

“Trouble?”

Courtney’s eyes shifted over to the nearby lounge chairs, where Bianca was sitting, oiled up, skin already glowing with a healthy bronze tan. She’d pulled the straps of her bathing suit down off her shoulders, giving Courtney an even better look at her cleavage. From this angle, she looked like a 50’s pinup girl, and all Courtney could think about was sinking her teeth into the smooth skin of her perfect thighs.

Alaska followed Courtney’s gaze and let out a little chuckle.

“Having some...self control issues?”

“You could say that,” Courtney admitted, biting her lip. “But I’m trying to take precautions.”

Courtney wiggled her fingers, showing off her decadent stiletto nails, and Alaska laughed, shaking her head.

“Trust me, girl...those are not gonna stop you. But I wish you the best of luck.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Julia asked, head tilted curiously.

“Um, we’re talking about...the tickle monster!” Courtney grabbed her and began to tickle her, causing her to shriek with happy laughter.

/////

The fact that he had managed to slip away undetected should probably have made him feel bad, but honestly, Patrick only really felt ecstatic at the fact that he avoided an afternoon of beach activities and jet skis. He had made his way to the top of the boat, setting up so he could easily see and hear the entire party going on, in case Fame needed him.

For now, however, he was beyond happy to just sit down, the budget his assistant had mailed him and one of the staff had kindly printed in hand along with a red pen, the sounds of everyone floating to him on the wind, as he got down to work.

/////

“Hey, lil bear…” Jinkx wrapped her arms around Adore’s shoulders from behind, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “How are you, baby?”

“I’m good!” Adore swallowed her mouthful of paella, picking up a piece of fried calamari. “Trying to sober up so that I can ride on one of those sick jet skis.”

“Mmm, sounds fun.” Jinks settled down onto the bench beside Adore, adjusting her hat.

“You wanna join? They said that Courtney and I could do it after lunch.”

“Uh, no. Not really my thing. But I’ll be cheering you on.”

“Fair enough.” Adore took a huge bite of a shrimp pastel.

“So...do you think we could have a little chat, just the two of us?” Jinkx asked, voice low. “When you’re done eating.”

Adore’s blood ran cold, unfinished pastel paused in mid air. Shit.

“Sure. I mean...I don’t know when I’ll be done, though. Did you see that spread? Ha ha,” Adore laughed weakly.

“I know, it’s fucking awesome!” Detox agreed, devouring a bowl of moqueca like he needed it to live.

“Right, but...look, I’ve really been wanting to talk to you, babe,” Jinkx tried again, tucking a lock of Adore’s hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, too bad we don’t live together!” Adore joked.

“Dore.”

“Be right back, Imma go get seconds!” Adore jumped up from the table and raced back to the buffet.

Jinkx let out a sigh, then saw Alaska glowering at her from across the beach.

“Ugh, don’t start, I tried.” Jinkx knew Alaska couldn't hear her, but she still wanted to say the words.

“What?” Detox looked up from his plate.

“Nothing.”

/////

“Well that looks, complicated.” Fame took a sip of her drink, looking over at Raven.

She was standing in the water nearby, trying to get both of her twins to sit still on a big flat rock. They were dressed in crocheted mermaid costumes and giant ridiculous flower headbands.

“Tanya! Smile for Mommy! Smile!”

Detox stood by, snapping photos, the man clearly finding the entire thing beyond amusing.

“You should see the shopping session.” Raja bit into a strawberry. “They had custom Dolce & Gabbana jackets.”

Fame shook her head. Her friend was truly delirious. She had always known that Raven would go completely overboard, but it was still somewhat unsettling to see toddlers that were only serving as playthings for their mother, though Fame would never dream of saying it. She loved Raja too much, and it was never wise to get in an argument with a business partner. Fame turned away from the beach, the amusement of toddlers in mermaid costumes already passed, as Courtney and Adore rode by on their jet skis.

Raja watched Fame’s face fall. They hadn’t had a chance to discuss the fact that Courtney had showed up, both of them too busy, but Raja could see it as plain as day on Fame’s face that she was unhappy with the turn of events, though she was sure Fame would look exactly the same to anyone who hadn’t worked with her for more than a decade. Raja didn’t care about a lot of people, but she did care about Fame, the blonde somehow worming her way into her heart and staying there.

“So, how are you holding up?”

“Holding up?” Fame bit her lip, so clearly lying it was almost pathetic. “I’m holding up amazingly.”

Raja smiled. “Don’t lie to me. I know you too well for that.”

Fame sighed. “I’m fine.”

“Just know that I’m here.” Raja touched Fame’s shoulder. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

/////

“Augh!” Courtney shrieked, as Adore rode by, dangerously close, spraying her with water. The two of them were tooling around the bay on jet skis, having beelined for them the second lunch was over. Adore could barely listen to the instructions, she was so anxious to get on.

“Is this what it would feel like to ride a motorcycle?” she yelled to Courtney.

“I think this is probably way more fun than a motorcycle!” Courtney shouted back. She sped up, chasing Adore around the boat, seeing Bianca standing on the dock, watching them, a drink in hand.

“B, you’re missing out!” Adore called to her. “Too bad you’re so old and no fun at all!”

Bianca raised her middle finger. Courtney slowed her own jet ski, looking up at her with a cheeky grin.

“Wanna get on?” Courtney asked.

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Bianca chuckled.

“Why… Ya scared?” Courtney revved the engine, riding in a slow circle, and Bianca smirked at her. She sucked down the last of her cocktail, setting her glass down and taking off her cover-up.

“Scared...pffft,” she scoffed, slipping on a life jacket, handed to her by the steward trying to keep them all from killing themselves. “How the fuck am I supposed to do this, anyway?”

The steward beckoned Courtney forward, helping support Bianca’s weight while she lowered herself down, hands gripping Courtney’s shoulders.

Bianca eventually settled in just behind Courtney, pressed into her back.

“It’s probably better to hold onto her waist,” the steward told her.

Bianca swallowed, placing her hands around Courtney’s waist, feeling those abs under her hands.

“Are you good?” Courtney asked.

“I’m good.” She then let out a gasp as the jet ski lurched forward, Courtney accelerating quickly, causing her to hold on tighter. “Fucking hell!”

Courtney giggled, gunning it even faster, loving the feel of Bianca’s thighs gripping hers, arms now tightly wrapped around her waist, lips inches from her neck, where the hair was standing on end. The faster she went, the closer Bianca held her, and so she zipped around the bay like a demon out of hell.

Bianca’s heart pounded, cheeks feeling hot and flushed as she pressed close to Courtney, clinging to her. Why did she think this was a good idea? And why did Courtney always have to feel so fucking perfect in her arms? She cursed internally, kicking herself for letting her feelings run away with her. Honestly, it was unlikely that Courtney was thinking about her as anything more than an ex. Her best friend’s sister.

Of course, then a hand reached down, gently squeezing her thigh, as Courtney asked, “Everything okay, B?”

“Ahem…Yeah. Everything’s fine. You’re an excellent driver.”

Courtney giggled, leaning back into her arms, and Bianca felt her icy heart melt a little.

/////

“Almost seems fun.” Karl looked at the jet skis, the sounds of Adore’s screams carrying from the distance.

“Almost being the keyword.” Sutan laughed. “Remember when we went to Sunny Beach? In Bulgaria?”

“You almost died.”

“And who’s fault that was?”

Karl rolled his eyes. “No one forced you to drink a double whale and go swimming.”

Sutan smiled. “Everything seems like a good idea when you’re high on coke.” They were some of the last to make their way towards the boat, the two friends having spent time at the beach, looking for seashells for Sutans mom, Karl’s pockets filled with conchs of different shapes and sizes. Sutan threw an arm around Karl’s shoulder. “Thank god we don’t do that anymore, huh?”

“Yeah... Thank god.”

/////

“I like your bracelet.”

Violet looked up from her magazine, surprised etched into her features at Fame’s voice, the blonde standing behind her deck chair, a small smile on her perfect face. They had all returned to the boat, the giant ship now cruising through the water to whatever destination Fame planned for next.

“I…” Violet touched her bracelet. “I, umh. Thank you.” It was a thin golden band, the metal woven together, and Violet had fallen in love with it the first time she had seen it.

“Where did you get it?”

“I found it at TILT.”

“Oh, so it’s vintage?”

Violet nodded. She was unsure why Fame was being so welcoming towards her, her mind briefly wondering if Sutan had asked Fame to keep an eye on her, but that didn’t make sense.

Violet stood up, ready to respond to Fame’s question, when her world turned dark.

/////

Courtney climbed out of the hot tub and onto the deck, muscles loose and relaxed. The evening air had turned chilly, sun low in the sky, and she shivered.

“Need a towel?”

Bianca caught her eye, giving a half smile, unable to stop thinking about their jet ski ride.

“Yeah, thanks.” Courtney hugged her arms, and Bianca stepped forward with a large beach towel from the shelf, wrapping it around her shoulders.

The gesture was more intimate than she’d planned. She looked into Courtney’s eyes, lashes wet with tiny beads of water, and gulped. But at the same time, she didn’t really want to look away.

And it appeared that she wasn’t the only one, Courtney holding her gaze, an inscrutable smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Violet!”

A sudden shriek pierced the air, Fame’s voice ringing out, snapping both Bianca and Courtney out of their little daze.

#rpdr fanfiction #group fic #raja x raven #vitan #jalaskadore #bitney #galactica au #lesbian au #fluff #beneath the amber moon #thedane #veronica #raja gemini #raven #violet chachki #bianca del rio #courtney act #jinkx monsoon #alaska thunderfuck #adore delano #miss fame #mild angst #concrit welcome

[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 13

431 days. A tragus piercing. A black pencil tattoo permanently etched at the highest point of my right ribcage, and shadow roots in my sandy hair thanks to Becca, my new hairstylist recommended my latest friend, Tia. All things refreshed and renewed in the life of Liv Elliott. Single Liv Elliott. Okay, nearly all. One thing most certainly, and sorely remained the same. My beating heart was still smashed like a steel mallet had turned loose on it. Sure, the festering emotional cut of our breakup was beginning to mend with time. But, we all know with a healing cut, comes a forever scar. Not a scar representing a victorious battle, or a valiant effort. But one of sheer, naïve stupidity.  I choked on a daily spoonful of utter confusion wondering where the road took such a drastic detour towards that killer cliff we had so recklessly plunged from. I constantly fought the burning urge to scratch and claw my way back up the side of that treacherous mountain to find my way back to the earliest road. The road with Colton as my copilot. 

I so graciously allowed myself 2 weeks to hide away. Flounder in tears, Rocky Road, and maybe even a drunken bonfire of most photographic evidence that Colton ever existed. I avoided mascara all together, concluding that some point of my day would inevitably lead to a blubbering breakdown as I hid in the office bathroom. I rearranged the entire span of my apartment, hopeful maybe the new positions of furniture would confuse the ghosts of him that all too often appeared laid out comfortably on the couch, ankles crossed during a Sunday nap. Or slumbering face down with one hand under a pillow and the other stretched out toward the opposite side of the bed, lips loose in sleeping breathes. I couldn’t outrun the flashbacks no matter the effort. Even still, he haunts me on a Saturday morning at The Grind, or on a Tuesday night at my place with takeout from the B-rated Chinese joint down the street. However now, the sickness of utmost sadness, overcome with a rancorous flood of anger instead. Mostly with Colton, rightfully so. But myself as well. The foolish, undignified way I had just fallen under his potent spell, I might as well have just dropped to my knees and waved the white flag the second he introduced himself. And yet, the unsolved mystery remained. HE had said he loved me first. Sure, I felt it near the moment he kissed me after our run through the city that morning, but I chose to bury the words for another time. Colton on the other hand, had no problem spouting off his revelation to me. Nor did he stutter on the admittance of apparently “thinking with his dick” when it came to the matter of our meeting that fateful morning either. One thing I was able to confirm, was the son of a bitch clearly suffered a severe case of habitual word vomit.

The Pilot for me was a bit of a safe haven in a war zone, it being a place I could hide from the demons a bit. My new title at the paper requiring me to cover all things fighting within a 100-mile radius on the other hand, posed a bit of an issue. Thank the holy heavens I had avoided the press conference for his first match following our demise, due to the short, paid hiatus I took to visit Westfield. A taste of nostalgia and familiarity seemed like suitable therapy for a maimed heart, and maybe a good caudle from my parents. An attempted one, at least.

Tony and Elizabeth, said parents, were good parents in general. I won’t take that away from their accomplishments. But when basketball gracefully bowed out of my life, their involvement followed suit. Dad & I always had ball as that bonding clue to hold us tightly together. Saturday mornings following Friday night games always began with film, 150 free throws out back on the handcrafted mock court he’d constructed for me, ending at Al’s Diner for pancakes. That first fateful Saturday after my knee surgery, we tried to replay the film and retreat to Al’s, but when the conversing concerning if I’d pass the current scoring record at Westfield High, or whether I would commit to University of Louisville or SIU no longer applied, we drifted. When the “basketball dad” shadow from the sticker he peeled from the rear window of his pickup truck faded, a hefty portion of the pride he held for his daughter did too.

As far as a closeness with mom, there truly wasn’t much. She preformed the expected team mom duties by hosting bake sale fundraisers, and chaperoning homecoming dances. But that dependable shoulder never pushed much further in the emotional realm of a relationship with me. My dad & I had always held a special closeness, leaving her to feel somewhat shoved to the proverbial back burner. I was never much for the “foofy” tea parties, or pageant queen aspirations she had, which no doubt drove the wedge deeper between the two of us. But, when I moved so far away, it seemed distance, and time had healed some wounds in our connection. When I arrived at the simple square, two story siding home on Lake Lane, my first friend in life, our Collie, Indiana nearly mounted to hood of my car to get to me. No doubt, his name sake my dads favorite action movie character, and my home-state.

“Hey Indy, you sweet boy! I’ve missed you, ya’ big guy!” I rumpled the cashmere like white coat around his neck.

Mom galloped out the red front door first, dad following suit at a slightly slower pace.

“Liv, honey! Oh, we’re so glad you’re here! We’ve missed you,” my mom squealed towards me with open arms.

“We really have missed you, kid. Look at ya’!” Dad persisted with the ever annoying greeting of ruffling the top of my head like some socially incoherent teenage boy.

They probably did miss me, I’m sure. But, apparently not enough to ever offer a visit with me since moving my things to the city of Pittsburgh. No matter what bitterness flowered, as I dragged deeper into adulthood, I had resolved that you only got one set of parents, and the importance of appreciating the ones you did get was dire. So, I decided to nurse some long dwelling resentment and go into this visit with a forgiving heart.

“I missed you guys, too. Things still look exactly the same around here.” I inventoried those familiar, award-winning rose bushes my mother grew in the landscape, and with attached garage door open, I was able to see dads tool shop sanctuary in exactly the shape I had left it. Not a hammer out of place.

“Let’s get you inside, sweetie. Dinner will be done soon, & I’m sure we have some catching up to do.” Mom placed her hands over my upper arms, guiding me into I’m sure a spotless house, while dad unloaded my suitcase from the back hatch of my SUV.

 Steaks cooked to perfection courtesy of Tony Elliott, self-proclaimed grilled master, were served in the newly remodeled dining room, and the 3 of us sat in the same assumingly designated spots that we had for all my childhood years. I did miss a motherly, prepared with love, home cooked dinner so I wasted no amount of time scarfing down the contents of her delicious spread.

“How are things with the promotion, Livvy? They aren’t taking advantage of ya’, I hope?” Dad dropped his fork gently to his plate, taking a sip of his tea.

“Things are good, dad. Ryan, my boss, really does treat me excellently. He’s always super complimentary of my work.” I assured.

“Sounds like a nice guy. Maybe someone has a little crush?” Elizabeth winked while sorting through the last few sprigs of lettuce in her salad bowl.

“Ha! No thanks, mom. He’s an awesome guy, but I’d never see him like that. Plus, I could never date my boss, you know that.” I scoffed all too quickly.

Alright, you fraidy-cat. Get to it, here! Tell them. About him.

“Plus, I think I need a little break from men these days.”

“A break? Meaning there’s been some boys around since you moved?” Mom was the first to chime in, while my dad sat idly by, trying to appear casually at ease. But, I knew he was hearing every syllable of the exchange between his wife and I.

“Just one guy, mom. Well, there was one guy.” My attention never left the chopped, leftover chunks of food on my white porcelain plate. “Remember the first piece I did on Mixed Martial Arts? My first front page?”

“Liv, don’t be ridiculous. Yes, it’s laminated and framed in the living room. Go on..” she answered, leaning on her hand as an elbow rested on the table for a blinking second, before she retracted it, minding her usual manners.

“I was with one of the competitors. Like, in a relationship for several months actually. Colton, the fighter who I was working one-on-one with.”

There, at least he’s out in the open now. The dirty secret is out.

“Was, meaning not anymore then?” Dad finally broke his cold silence.

“Not anymore, no. We haven’t been together for a while now. But, I….. I uh, I didn’t handle the split so well. Which is part of my reason for coming to see you guys.”

My mind spun like a tilt-or-whirl trying to sort through what needed to be said, and what I should leave out. They didn’t need to know how harshly he’d spoken to me, nor the pathetic amount of sick days I’d used to wallow in my tear-stained sheets and overindulge on snack-packs.

“It sounds like things were serious, honey. Frankly, I’m a little hurt you never told us about him.” My mom had taken an overbearing interest in me when I started dating in high school. Boys were something she saw as her forte, I assume. Dad and I had basketball, now she and I could have boys, and relationships. So, the lack of sharing about my now ex-boyfriend seemed to perturb her.

“It was serious, mom. Yeah. I loved him. I was in love with him. Case in point, why I didn’t handle our breakup with much dignity.”

“What happened, Liv? Anything I should be concerned about,” dad inquired in the ultimate “dad” tone of voice.

“It just didn’t work, guys. It’s done, and life goes on. Nothing more, okay?”

Life goes on, huh? Let’s practice what we preach, dear.

“Losing a love is hard, sweet pea. But you’re a strong, successful young lady, and you’ll recover just fine. I know it!” Mom smiled.

I admired her A+ efforts for the “mother bear” sermon. It’s what I needed, truly. No matter how I wanted to tell her I needed those little chats years ago. I needed that reassurance back when I thought life hated me, and some karmic attack had been yielded on my life. Recently though, she had been heartily trying with our relationship. Both of them had. And although the repairs were long overdue, and far from complete, I was thankful nonetheless.

 I hadn’t been back to my stomping grounds since I’d left slightly over three years prior, so I had my fair share of hellos to exchange, most importantly being my childhood best friend, and the shooting guard to my point guard, Sara. She hadn’t spread her wings from our small town, instead chose the “marry my perfect high school sweetheart and have the most painfully adorable twin boys on the planet” lifestyle, which suited her beautifully.  She met up with me at the local dairy freeze for a greasy order of cheese fries after ending the work day at her parents’ dental practice where she was employed as a hygienist. Sitting alone at the wooden picnic table carved with an array of heart enclosed initials of couples I knew never made it past junior year prom, I felt strangely foreign in the little town now. Distant, or homesick. Every hardware store clerk or mail carrier knowing about the family pet you had to put down because all news travelled like an unruly forest fire in Westfield, now seemed displeasing rather than endearing. I basked in a bit of big-headed pride realizing I had maybe outgrown this little corner of the world, and home suddenly felt eastbound. Whether that had anything to do with my recent ex had yet to be determined.

Sara arrived right on time, going straight for the counter to order her favorite Dr. Pepper ice cream float as she put it “first things first.” The girl may have been the only person in the whole population of 2,000 whom I held in trusting regard, so she was kept up to date through a hefty amount of text messages about the tumultuous romance of Liv and Colton. We exchanged a squealing hug before diving right into the heavy matter.

“How are you? First off, you look freakin’ amazing. The big city looks good on you, Elliott,” Sara flopped into her seat, pulling off her pink labcoat.

“Shut up, you liar. The bags under eyes have bags, Sara. I’ve been a sloppy, sobbing, bitchy, pathetic mess for going on two months now. Like, who am I and will it end?!” I felt so light being able to genuinely come out in the open with all the emotion I was dealing with. A crucial missing piece to my life in the Burgh was a real, true friend such as Sara. Someone to take shoe shopping, and call drunk at 3 a.m. when you’re well into a half of bottle of Pinot and can’t keep from hysterically bawling over the ghastly way your boyfriend spoke to you.  A woman needs the Lavern to her Shirley to share life with.  

“It’s called love, honey. Welcome to the party,” she sucked vigorously through the straw of her float. “We’ve been waiting for you to show up.” I appreciated her gracious attempt to lighten the mood.

“Well if this is what it’s all about, I won’t be coming back.” I spoke mumbled chewing on a fry.

“It doesn’t always turn out this bad, babe. You just fell really, really hard. Which means getting over it will probably be equally as difficult. As much as I hate to see you like this…”

“Easy for you to say, Sara. You practically married Prince Harry or something. Can’t I just borrow yours sometime?” I clowned.

Her husband was truly the best of the best, and he’d been that way since the beginning. So, I always harbored some envy of sorts toward the seeming perfection of their relationship.

“In all honesty, Sare, I don’t know that I’m going to have the same feelings for whoever comes along like I did Colton. I’m not going to be irrational enough to say I’ll never love again, because I know that’s just silly and overdramatic. I’m just not sure it’ll be as raging and romantic, ya’ know what I mean?”

Just as she was about to hit me with some bogus line probably directly from an article she’d read in Cosmopolitan, a familiar voice intruded.

“My God, am I having a flashback right now?” Our varsity head coach Eric Gibson yelled from the open window of his parked car.

The guy was a true, unadulterated saint. He’d pulled me from the 8th grade roster to dress up for him on JV, so I lost count on how many games we’d competed in together. He shed nearly as many tears as my own father had when I collided with that player from Carson County causing me to close out my chapter as a ball player. He quickly locked the doors to his vehicle with two beeps of the horn, and made his way eagerly to us.

“Coach, how are you?” I stood to meet his incoming hug. With Sara still residing in Indiana I’m sure their paths crossed frequently in town.

“I’m doing fine, Liv. Shocked to see you here, girl! Are you back in Westfield?” He patted Sara with a coy hand to the shoulder, and we returned ourselves after the exchange of greetings.

“Oh, no no. Just here for a visit. I finally got the chance to take a little vacation from work, so I thought I’d come check in on Sara, and my parents.”

“Yeah, you’re a real superstar here, you know that? Everyone had a field day when your article made the front page for your paper. It was the talk of the town!”  

I blushed vividly at his statement. “Thanks, coach. It’s really nothing though.”

His mouth opened wide in defense. “It most certainly is something, Liv. It’s a huge accomplishment! Don’t be so modest. Hard work deserves to be recognized, and I know you’re no stranger to working hard in everything you do.” He paused to nudge my shoulder that grazed his. “ You’re talented, Elliott. And scrappy as hell when need be! Those big shots at that newspaper better just stay outta your way.”

Suddenly, there it was. The switch of undignified pity had self-destructed. Leave it to Coach to set me straight as he always did. I was scrappy as hell! The 4 games I’d been ejected from back in school clear evidence. It was time to exercise that same fearlessness and grit to scratch myself to the surface again, leaving behind this lonely, moldy grave Colton had dug for me. He may have outweighed me by an easy sixty pounds, and could’ve snapped me in half in the concern of strength. But mentally? It’d have to be ruled a no contest.

That night, back to square one in the little town in Indiana, over cheese fries & cheap milkshakes, with an out-and-out smack reminder courtesy of coach Gibson, I awoke. The sleepwalking, gray way of life a thing of the past. I excused myself from the parade of self-pity I had long been the grand marshal for.

“Maybe she’ll take your word for it, Coach. I’ve been trying to get that very same thing through that thick head of hers.” Sara interjected, slurping the last traces of whipped cream from her glass.

“Okay, okay, you two. Lay off before it all goes to my head.” I shook with a chuckle, and decided then and there, that I was going to find peace and satisfaction in life when I got back to Pittsburgh, someway, somehow, no matter what. I wanted my heart back from him. The heart he clearly had no use for any longer.

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935

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