#no matter how far you run they will find you. your existence is infinitely small when compared to the apathetically grandiose

[isyoursummer]

the greeks really had something going on w destined tragedy huh.. how humans lie oblivious as fate piece-by-piece slowly drags them into a tragic fate until everything horribly clicks in place.. the notion of the tragic flaw.. characters who were born to die

#just thinking about how achilles’ vanity is what killed patroclus. that’s what led paris’ arrow to his heel not anything else. AND HE KNEW.. #they were born to be the halve of each other’s souls yet they were also born to be torn apart #see when i think about things like this #i always get reminded of primal humans #humans who literally started civilization #and how they were faced with such heavily human values that cannot be avoided no matter what #life #choice #love #death #no matter how far you run they will find you. your existence is infinitely small when compared to the apathetically grandiose #nature of these values #so they conjured up stories to try and break them down into intelligible parts! #and they dove into the human soul to try and understand!! #the song of achilles #rina rants

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #61 Part 5

There were two new arrivals to the dining room. Both with black hair but one of them had an odd white stripe, the stripe reminded him of his hair in ghost form. 

The one without the stripe sat next to Tim and the other one sat next to Danny. 

“You weren’t kidding when you said they looked identical,” the guy without the stripe said, “Names Richard Greyson, but you can call me Dick”

Dick had a bright smile on his face, it was clear he was a morning person. 

Damian made another ‘Tt’ noise at his introduction. 

The guy with the stripe in his hair grunted in agreement before holding out a coffee mug for Alfred, who was already standing next to him ready to pour. He took a swig before speaking, “Names Jason, you may look alike but seeing Damian eat meat, even from an alternate universe is weird.”

Danny took a bite of his bacon and swallowed like he was making a point before speaking, “I go by Danny, I faked my death years ago, as far as I’m concerned we were all strangers in my world.” He started, he took a moment to think about exactly how’d he explain everything. He knew it wasn’t exactly a pretty story but he also knew from the stories Talia told him when he was younger that Bruce was all about planning ahead, so keeping information from  him might not be the best way to go about all of this. 

He took another bite and swallowed before speaking again, “My foster family is fine though, I have a roof over my head and food. They spend most of their time in their lab working. They study Ectology, or the study of ghosts.” Jason raised an eyebrow at this but didn’t say anything. Danny continued, “They actually succeeded in building a portal to their realm, the realm of ghosts, or Infinite Realm as we call it.”

“We? You say that like you're one of the ghosts” Tim asked laughing a little bit.

He quickly got silent when Danny wasn’t laughing with him.

Damian made another ‘Tt’ noise before speaking, “Clearly this imposter has lost it, ghosts don’t exist and all of this nonsense is just that nonsense.” He glared at Danny.

Danny smiled at him and it caused Damian to falter a little before he glared at Danny again.

“Yes, Ghosts are real,” Danny sighed before continuing, “Trust me, it sounds crazy but I’ve seen some crazy things in my world. Although now I’m wondering if just showing you guys would be easier… Alright I’ll show you all but know that no one except my sister knows. Secret identity and all.”

“Wait,” Dick interrupted, “Does Robin not exist in your world?”

“Robin existed but there hasn’t been a Robin since Joker murdered the last one.” Danny answered. 

Everyone fell silent at that and the atmosphere got heavy. Everyone, especially Jason was giving each other knowing glances.

Danny cleared his throat before continuing, “Anyways, yes ghosts exist, unfortunately the portal in this world probably doesn’t work like my own world. It’s been about a year since I turned it on and since I was here in Gotham when they tried it in this world there’s no telling what they did after it didn’t work. Actually now that I think about it, I wonder if they exist here,” he thought about the GIW in his world and it occurred to him. If ghosts weren’t running rampant in Amity Park, they probably didn’t exist here.

He brought out his phone from his pocket and looked it up. His eyes lit up a bit at the information he found. Or more accurately the information he didn’t find. Searching GIW in this world brought zero results, so great he wouldn’t be hunted for existing here. 

He let out a sigh of relief at this. He turned to everyone and they were watching him closely. He gave them a small smile, “It’s been a while since I had a moment where I didn’t have to worry about being hunted for existing.” He explained. He figured he might as well get the conversation out of the way no matter how difficult it was. 

Everyone at the table was silent as they waited for him to continue. The tension was thick in the air however, you could tell that even though Danny had just arrived everyone was ready to jump to defend him, even if he wasn’t their Damian he was still part of the family even if he had just arrived into their lives. It cemented Danny’s determination to tell them the truth.

He took a deep breath and then spoke again, “The portal didn’t work at first when they tried it, I of course wanted to help so when they were away I went in to see if I could figure out the problem… Long story short, it helps to build the on switch on the outside of the portal. I’m not proud to admit that even with all of my training, there were just too many cords that even I tripped.” He didn’t have to say much else about that as their faces told him they understood what happened. He gave a dark chuckle and continued, “Yeah hurt like hell but I don’t have to worry about losing anything anymore.” He then took his phone and phased it into his chest.

The room went silent again for a moment, but it was broken by Jason who started cackling. 

He wheezed for a moment before he got out, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t ready for not Damian to make a fucking pun!”

Meanwhile everyone else was still too stunned to speak. Finally Damian surprisingly spoke, “What else can you do?”

Danny smiled, this was going to be fun.

Master Post:

Last:

#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #ghost prince danny #danny and damian are the same person #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use #Even if I write these parts if you want it to go different your welcome to write your own fic #My goal with these is to spread creativity #as is my purpose on this earth

[brandnewhuman]

It still hurts

☆starring☆

König aka dominik from now on bc me and @bloodlst said so

Tw: people being fucking trash, fatshaming(?) Like idk but like a very mean comment about weight, depictions of anxiety, panic attacks and overall big sad könig.

Summary: könig may be bullied a lot even now as an adult but at least he has you

A/n: this is so self indulgent and I took the liberty to project my own big fat sadness onto him CAUSE I AM TOO VERY SENSITIVE ABOUT MY APPEARANCE. Not as good as I wanted it to be but at least I've tried. Take the German bits with a grain of salt cause I used the Google translator IM SORRY.

Es ist so entmutigend: it's so discouraging

mein Schatz: my darling

König could see the subtle worried glances you would give him but he couldn't find it in himself to care about it, he just wanted to run away as far as possible and let it all out. He hated to feel like this, he hated even more how people always managed to make him feel so weak and stupid all the time even now that he was an adult. He knew they were just joking, he knew that but it didn't help his uneasy mind to find some of the remarks cruel and hurtful. He always felt stupid for getting offended over such things, so he would crack a self-deprecating joke now and then hoping they would just drop it if they saw he was laughing about it too, he always tried to make himself go as unnoticed and small as possible cause maybe if he didn't exists too much too loudly people won't bother him too much.

But they always end up doing it. If it wasn't about his height it was about what or how much he eaten, if it wasn't about him fumbling too much while speaking it was his accent, if it wasn't him getting scolded for being clumsy it was reminding him about how his stupid anxiety and his stupid appearance didn't allowed him to become what he wanted. There was always something to say or joke about him, and he saw them doing it to other people like ghost or soap. But he wasn't them, he wasn't the ever so stoic and cold Simon who didn't care anymore about anything or the easygoing and always ready to talk back John who didn't let anyone walk over him. He was just..him, at best he was könig the surprisingly efficient and dutiful soldier who always completed the mission no matter what, at worst he was just Dominik, feeling like the chubby kid again hiding in the bathroom at lunch time because they won't stop tormenting him.

While he just let everyone at the table using him as the bottom of the joke you were very much pissed with how your teammates were acting. You have clapped back at them multiple times before they started to use it to reinforce the already infinite jokes about könig, which just led you to silently death glaring everything while biting your tongue back from snapping at their stupid remarks. They couldn't possibly know how much it affected könig comments about his appearance, or if they knew they just didn't care cause as soon as the next sentence came out of their mouth you felt your heart sink to your stomach.

"König you gotta tell your grandma back at home to stop with the sweets, the older you get the harder it is to stay in shape mate" their laugh made you feel sick as they playfully slapped könig shoulder.

He could feel himself pulling on a mask of easiness and replying to a funny and careless reply but his mind was already out of the conversation. His mind was already sending waves of debilitating and painful hurt that spread all over his body making him suddenly too aware of every part of him and, most importantly, everything that was wrong with him. His already weak self-esteem was being drowned by the countless intrusive thoughts and harsh judgments of his own brain. From outside all you could see was him stiff as always, his hands now resting on his lap torturing themselves and his absent gaze looking forward.

At some point he excused himself to get some fresh air and he felt your steps behind him but once again couldn't really think about it now that his mind was going so fast yet so slow. It wasn't hard for you to find him anyways, you just had to follow the sound of his panicked deep breaths coming from not too far from the building.

And there he was indeed, pacing around with his hands tugging at his soft hair. He wasn't crying and anyone who didn't know him wouldn't think he's as upset as he really feels, but you do know him and that's why you can't find the right words. "Sweetheart are you okay? Do you…do you want to talk about it?" You cautiously took a few steps towards him, now your own hands fidgeting too, while looking at him closing his eyes, his face contorted in distress while trying to keep back the tears "I just…I'm fine. I just need a moment, can you- i…I need to be alone please" his accent slipped even more as he tried to keep his voice as steady as possible, failing miserably and rubbing his eyes with frustration. He was quite literally shaking now and the way his jaw clenched looked so painful you had to actually look away "I know you want to be alone but i-" you sighed defeated and just closed the distance, stopping in front of him to prevent him from pacing around any longer and softly taking the hands away from his face. "I just want to help.." your tone was as gentle as possible, mentally thanking the universe for allowing you to say it without your voice trembling from unshed tears.

His hands were still close to his face, balled into fists with his knuckles turning white and his face scrunching in an attempt to keep himself from actually breaking down. His bottom lip quivered ever so slightly as he tried to say something that never actually left his mouth before a single tear fell from down his cheek. He shook his head no as trying to get all those thoughts to go away, to make the tears go away and not feel weak like this. "Hey…hey hey hey it's okay, you can let it out. You hear me? You can let it out Dominik.." hearing you say his name with all that love, to say he was allowed to feel like this broke something inside him. He let go of that painful sob he was holding back with such difficulty and you almost sigh with relief seeing that he was ready to let it go.

He just let his hands fall down to his size while yours find their place on his cheeks, getting caught in the flow of tears spilling out of his big, sad glossy eyes. It wasn't the first time you saw him like this, he always bounced out of it pretty quickly but that didn't stop your heart from shattering at the sight of him looking so defeated and broken. You would never be able to understand how he always manages to get over such a state so quickly.

His forehead gently pressed against yours as he cried a river, your hands slowly guiding him into a hug while you whispered sweet nothings. "I-I'm sorry… I know it's really stupid to get…to get so upset, they were just joking but it's…Es ist so entmutigend" he sobbed in the crook of your neck, his voice raspy from crying as he gave up on trying to speak another word in English. His hands were slowly placed on your back, you could feel his long fingers pushing on your shoulder blades to bring you closer to him. You just kept rubbing his back trying to think about what you could possibly say to make him feel better "it's not stupid love, they were being rude. It's normal to be upset, you know that right? You know there's nothing wrong with you, right?" You moved back a little to look him in the eyes. The sentence, maybe even just your voice being so kind after hours of listening to harsh and offensive sounds made his troubled mind melt slowly. Somehow you always managed to get more in his head than any hurtful joke and he would never understand how you could do that, he just felt the need to believe everything you say. You held so much power over him and you never took advantage of it, maybe that's why it wasn't hard to just take everything you say as the truth.

It took him all the strength in the world to not keep avoiding your gaze and when he finally locked his eyes on you his breath hitched, his own gaze softening as he felt his heart speeding up not from pain but because of you. He never felt quite pretty in any sense, his view of himself was one of resignation to not being able to change what he saw. But every time you looked at him he could swear he felt the prettiest he has ever felt in his whole life, which made him wonder if you did it on purpose, if there was an intention full of love behind that adoring gaze. "I wish you could see yourself like i see you…if you could you would never have to worry about those jokes'' you softly whispered as you brushed back a strand of his soft hair, a sad smile grazing your face as he just looked at you "it will pass mein schatz…it hurts only in the moment" his voice was hoarse but still held that special kindness only reserved for you, and in a moment he had that shy smile again on his lips although a little tainted by the redness in his eyes and the traces of tears on his cheeks. His big hands slowly went up to hold your face, engulfing your cheeks with ease "you know it will always pass…I just need to let it out" he sighed and once again his forehead found its home on yours "I could never believe those things if you're looking at me the way you do my love…" you couldn't help but smile at how cheesy but inherently sweet he could be, always reassuring you even when you weren't the one who needed it. You stole a quick kiss before your courage could falter, just to see that pinkish blush coloured his nose, cheeks and ears as his eyes widened from surprise. You breathed out a laugh at how he still managed to get so flustered with these things as if it was always the first time, and it somewhat always felt like it. It always felt like every time you looked at him you both were simultaneously falling in love all over again, even now as you kissed his palm and moved to hug him again. He just couldn't but smirk to himself and pulled you as close as possible, feeling so much better and making you both slightly swing back and forth while already planning a well deserved nap with you once back inside the base.

#könig #könig cod #könig cod mw2 #könig x reader #codmw2 #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty

[sciencestyled]

When Loki Breaks Down Chaos Theory: Because Who Needs Order Anyway?

Alright, gather 'round, folks. You’re not going to want to miss this! Our favorite god of mischief, the one and only Loki, has slipped from the gilded bounds of Asgard to gift us mere mortals with a tale of chaos, butterflies, and a universe that's as predictably unpredictable as he is. No, this is not a drill. Yes, you should be freaking out.

Hold onto your tesseract cubes, because this is the journey where science, magic, and a dash of that Loki flair collide, unraveling the mysteries of the universe - or, as I like to call it, “The Ultimate Guide to Making Sense of Cosmic Nonsense, Narrated by a Mischief Maestro.”

Now, we're not talking about your typical run-of-the-mill chaos here, like when you can’t find your keys in the morning, or when your cat decides the most opportune time to showcase its acrobatic skills is at 3 a.m. No, no. This is Chaos Theory, courtesy of our beloved Asgardian trickster. It's math, science, and a cosmic dance of uncertainty, all wrapped up in a spectacle as grand as Thor’s biceps. And who doesn’t want to stare at that all day?

Imagine a world where the delicate flap of a butterfly's wings is akin to Thor swinging his mighty hammer, where every tiny, seemingly insignificant event is charged with the power to reshape destinies and worlds. It’s like the multiverse had a lovechild with unpredictability, and Loki is the mischievous uncle, ready to take it on a whirlwind tour of the cosmos.

In the green-tinted eyes of our favorite antihero, chaos isn't just a spectacle of disorder, it’s an art form, a cosmic ballet of infinite possibilities. And much like Loki's ever-changing allegiances, it’s beautiful, maddening, and utterly impossible to pin down.

And then there’s the “Butterfly Effect.” It’s not a mediocre movie from the early 2000s, but a concept where every action, no matter how small, holds the power of a god of thunder. Imagine a universe where Loki’s whisper into Sif’s ear causes a storm in the far reaches of Midgard. It’s poetic, catastrophic, and testament to the fact that in the grand theatre of existence, there are no small parts.

Loki also graces us with the allure of fractals, patterns as endless as Loki’s schemes and as intricate as Heimdall’s gaze. They are nature’s masterpiece, echoing the endless cycles of creation and destruction that even the gods are bound to.

And for the finale, we’re not just navigating the mysterious rivers of chaos in the macrocosm, oh no. We’re plunging into the pandemonium of the real world – from the turbulent skies echoing with Thor’s roars to the silent yet powerful rhythms of your heartbeat. It’s chaos in the wild, a testament to a universe that’s as untamable as Loki’s ambitions.

So, step right up and embark on a journey where order and chaos dance in an eternal ballet, narrated by the god who knows a thing or two about upsetting the cosmic order. It’s not just a lesson in chaos theory; it’s a front-row seat to the Loki show, a spectacle where the universe bares its enigmatic soul, proving once and for all that in the dance of existence, chaos reigns supreme.

But remember, in the grand, tumultuous, and chaotic theatre of the cosmos, always expect the unexpected - especially when Loki’s at the helm. After all, in the words of the mischief maestro himself, “I am burdened with glorious purpose.” And aren’t we all just lucky to be along for the ride?

#science #chaos #loki #theory #cosmos

[heartshyuck]

Pairing: Jisung x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst,slow burn, strangers to lovers au, first love, early 1900s au.

Synopsis: Lavenders symbolise purity, silence, devotion, serenity and grace. All endearing characteristics of the gorgeous boy, you met in the fields of purple.

Placed in the late 1930s , just before World War two starts, you flee from your family who are forcing you into a marriage. You lie low in a small village where you meet Jisung in a field of lavenders.

Word count: 23k lmao

Warnings: female reader, misogyny and very backwards ways of thinking, forced marriages, world war two + historical inaccuracy for progression of the plot, drinking

a/n: this is the longest fic i have ever written and honestly it was a mission, it took about a month to write and I am genuinely so proud of it and really happy with it. Please don't be scared by the length but when I say slow burn, I really mean it!

Your legs seem to be moving on their own, feet hitting the ground at a steady and fast pace, you don’t look back and can’t seem to see what lies ahead but still you run until your lungs burn, run until the bitter metallic taste is at the back of your throat where bile threatens to rise. You run until finally your legs collapse, knees hitting the ground, grazing them and it’s the slight sting of the sediment seeping into the cuts that stop you from passing out. You’re not sure how far you’ve ran or how long you’ve been running, you don’t know where you're running to but you have to escape. 

Escape the life they’ve laid out for you, the one they’ve planned without your input, you can’t live a life where everything is set out, where ’everything is expected and perfect. A life where you’d get married at 18 to a stranger who was of a worthy social class, attend formal lunches with the wives of your husband’s work colleagues and host dinner parties and occasionally large balls in a manor that always felt empty no matter how many paintings you bought to hang on the never ending amount of walls, no matter how many more bookshelves you tried to fit into one room, a place that you’ll always hate. Then to have children by 20, as many boys as possible of course to then not have any say in their upbringing and watch nurses tend to them, your husband educate them and then watch them get married, meet your grandchildren and when you’ve reached a respectable age, death will meet you in your sleep and you’ll be mourned and then forgotten. A life filled with regret, a constant numbness, no fulfilment and no meaning.

You saw your mum live that life, a smile that never quite reached her eyes, always plastered on at any given moment as she walked around the large hall with a glass of nothing but champagne in hand greeting the hundreds of guests that you were never able to comprehend how she managed to remember them all. She never spoke unless spoken to, never put in any input and always obeyed your father even when you could see the frustration bubble up inside her as her eyes glinted and her jaws tightened with the urge to say something.

She would buy gifts upon gifts and shower you in expensive luxuries, spoil you in riches as a form of love and yet it always held another meaning behind it. There was a slight sadness in her eyes as she passed a gift every birthday,christmas and any other reason she found, almost as if she was saying sorry for the life you were going to live and how she’d use these moments as blackmail for when that time came. You’d overhear her quiet sobs when you would sneak around the house late at night, read letters she received from someone you didn’t know and how they wished for her life to get better and for her to find happiness in a world where happiness didn’t exist. You saw your mother cry when your father died, eyes bloodshot red in fear rather than grief. Her life was now uncertain and that's when you decided that you couldn't live an empty life, regretting choices and wishing for death to come to you first.

Your father had always made sure that you would receive a proper education, one where you'd read hours upon hours of the finest English literature, works of science and learned of the past and present politics. He always said "a lady should know about the world around her but should never venture off on her own" you hated that phrase but it was better than what you overheard your friend's father saying to her when she asked for him to explain the concept of communism, "a women does not need to busy herself with politics, for your brain could not even begin to comprehend it" he announced with his nose high up in the air as if he had just said the most inquisitive statement known to man. It baffled you how one could even think that, let alone truly believe it enough to announce it so stupidly in the open, it was obvious that women were capable of understanding concepts like politics, maths and science for you were living proof.

You did better than your brother at grasping algebra, better at them with understanding Versalius's "De humani corporis fabrica" and it didn't take your friend long to understand Karl Marx's theory on communism once you explained it to her. It angered you that this was dismissed especially when your brother soon went off to universities for they had outgrown your father's enormous library and knowledge, there was no more he could teach them but there was still much to learn and you yearned to do the same but as you approached a suitable age for marriage, your everyday classes on Shakespearean English, Tudor monarchy, Greek mythology and Italian art had now been replaced with sewing, crochet, dining etiquette and the differences between napkins, white laced ones for formal lunches, gold embroidery for important dinners and regular silk for everyday use, you'd recite to your mother and the many maids who were on standby.

You've left that world now, left the bustling streets of industrialised London where a black smog always hung around the air and the smell of burnt rubber that stung your nose, you always hated both. Though you grew up in a large estate where there seemed to be a never ending amount of land on the outskirts of London, you never were allowed out to explore. Only allowed out with your mother to pick out fabrics in the markets, surrounded by military men that guarded the general's wife and daughter but now you were alone, no guards, no mother and no black smog to block your view of what lies ahead, only the sun and the ocean sky, clear of clouds as you breathe in fresh air that cleanses your lungs from the toxins that hang in the city air, surrounded by vibrant lavenders that arrive with a strong, sweet smell of pollen which you welcome to replace the bitter rubber your sense of smell only seems to know.

You close your eyes and bask in the warmth of late August , the sun gleaming down on you, rays striking against your skin with the wind between the strands of your hair, blowing the lavenders and they slightly tickle your arms. You’re not sure how long you were in your euphoric trance but you weren't ready to leave yet when the dark shadow was casted over you.

Your eyes lazily open and beauty lies ahead, the sun gleaming behind him, lights him on flames and he burns with a presence so strong you can see it as his aura swirls around you, engulfing you. His features,strong and yet his eyes are soft and even as he's turned away from the sun they sparkle infinitely as they hold the brightest stars, his stare pierces through you and it makes your gut clench as you feel small under his gaze but you don't turn away, daring him to continue staring down on you, well that's what you tell yourself as you can't help but get lost in the beauty of his eyes. His face wears a worried expression, his hand out forwards for you to take and place in his and it takes you a while to realise he's trying to help you up, even longer to comprehend the words that leave his mouth, as you just watch his cherry red lips move. You're dazed and for the first time you're not thinking straight, your legs won't move to carry you back up onto your feet but your hand instinctively moves towards him and your own mouth gapes open as it does, and again he repeats himself emphasising the words as his eyes widen further “are you feeling well?” you stare blankly at him, no response until you feel the burning sensation of his hand in yours. A heat that sends shocks through every nerve, it runs through your bloodstream lighting you on fire and as if you were burnt you pull back, shaking off the dizzy spell you rise to your feet, your body finally responding to your screaming brain. A sense of relief washes over you as the fear of losing your mind slowly seeps out as the haze in your mind clears, until your eyes meet his again. “Really y/n, not for a boy” you cry out in your head as your mind seems to be lost in awe looking at him.

You shuffle uncomfortably and it’s just now you realise how much of a mess you look as the embodiment of beauty’s eyes fall down. Your expensive dress torn up, what was once a full sangria and silver ball gown was now rags that wrapped around you with the bottom half missing as it stopped just above your knees, an uneven hem due to the rough ripping which took all of your strength, the white net underneath was visibly stained a brownish yellow, the cuts on your knee not being the only thing the dirt seeped into  but his eyes don’t even seem to stop there, they didn't even seem to notice, only meeting a piece of paper that lied on the floor. He reaches down for it, his eyebrows perk up slightly before handing it back to you.“You dropped this” he avoids eye contact, continuing to stare down, his hand abruptly extends out in front of him and he clears his throat, adding to the excruciating awkwardness between you and you wince at the sudden sound.

“Oh thank you..” you can hear your voice waver and crack and for the first time in your life, your voice isn’t confident, seems like a day full of firsts, your mother would’ve been proud if she saw you acting like this, like a lady she would have put it. Quiet, reserved but really it was just a suffocating stiffness that lingered in the air.

“Jisung” he completes your sentence, a small, shy smile appears on his face as his eyes look at everything but you, the letter still in his grasp he shakes his hand at you slightly urging you to take it. Your fingers brush past his ever so slightly as you take the letter back into your possession, a spark is sent through you and your fingers twitch, as if wanting more but you stop them from moving any further, your eyes slightly widen as you catch yourself falling so easily and if Jisung catches the weird expressions on your face, he chooses to ignore them not saying anything. “You are not from around here, are you?” His voice is light and airy as he speaks softly, as if you were made of glass and any harsh tone could break you, you can’t tell if it’s because of the immense awkwardness or because of the pity he must feel seeing you in such a state. You hope it’s the former and decide that’s what it is, when he starts playing with the edges of his white shirt.

“No I live in London” the words die as soon as they leave your mouth, you used to live in London, you don’t anymore. This only adds to Jisung’s awkwardness and it reminds you no matter how beautiful he is, he’s only just a boy who’s probably around your age. So you smile at him, letting out a small breathy laugh in hopes of lightening the mood, it works as he visibly unstiffens. “Used to” Jisung doesn’t press on the matter any further, doesn’t ask anymore questions, just nods. The unsettling atmosphere sets in once again and your incapability of standing in silence for more than a second, you clear your throat "do you know where this address is?" your tone light and airy, you sound almost clueless and it’s now you realise the true meaning behind every etiquette class, the role of the women is the domestic war, the war on power. For one to rise they must make powerful allies and that’s what this voice is for, to obtain the power of a man and trick them into helping you; so you're glad when Jisung takes the letter back into his grasp and examines the writing at the front, it’s worked.

“I’ll show you the way” and you nod with a slight smile as a thank you, Jisung leads the way and you follow soon behind, with his face no longer in my sight you can finally observe the rest of him. Judging by his height and build, seems like he comes from a well off family. Though there wasn’t a day you felt hungry, you weren’t blind to the outside world no matter how hard your parents tried to shelter you from it. The world is living off rations but the wealthy still have access to more, Jisung must have some sought of status or most likely works for a household with high status considering it seemed like he was running errands, why else would he be in a field full of lavenders and it’s only reinforced by the fine silk that flows as wind rushes past you. Somewhat similar to the material that makes up your gown, or what’s left of it, it’s an expensive material imported from colonies in the empire. He walks with no flaw and so you guess he didn’t serve in the war, meaning he has to be around your age; this new life is exciting and scary, you’re not sure what you want yet but you certainly wouldn’t mind if the boy in the lavender field stuck around for a while.

Jisung’s steps slowed and soon came to a stop outside a large estate, it was nowhere near as big as your parent's manor but comparing it to the small petite houses in the village you could just about see; it definitely was the biggest house in the village. You turned to thank Jisung, mouth slightly opened as the words were prepared to leave until you saw him pull out a key and a heat rose up your neck onto your face, in both slight embarrassment and excitement as you realised that Jisung must live here and your mouth couldn’t help but confirm your thoughts, “do you live here?” you blurted quickly with a slight lift in your tone, which you hope wasn’t too obvious in exposing your excitement.

His eyebrows rise, a small smile appears but he doesn’t answer your question, continuing to unlock the doors and allows you to step in first, a women who barely makes it past Jisung’s shoulders calls out to him, embracing him as she tightly wraps her arms around his waist, Jisung leans back slightly as a way of hoping to loosen her grip as his face scrunches up in pain as the struggle to breath sets in but there’s a constant smile on his face right until he peels her off. It’s then she punches him in the stomach, making him crouch down below her, holding onto his stomach.

“How many breaths must I waste in having to tell you to make sure you fulfill all your duties before you head to the fields'' she nags him and a smile is brought to your face at the violent display of affection, you guess he must be a part of the service team that works for the master of this house, which was exceptionally beautiful in the inside; much bigger than what it lets off from the outside, your eyes can’t help but linger elsewhere and observe the hidden beauty in all the small intricate designs. “Young master” the lady continues to punish him for his action and you head whips around at her words, she hasn’t even noticed you but Jisung’s eyes are constantly on you watching your expressions change as more as more information is being released to you, a smile appears on his face and at first it seems like a smirk but soon you notice the constant pink dust across his cheeks and you realise he’s embarrassed. There’s a strange feeling in your chest, a warmth that spreads and has you clutching your fists as you think at how adorable he is, your eyebrows furrow and you shake both the thoughts and the smile off.

Finally after what seems like hours of you staring at Jisung but in reality was no longer than a few seconds, the petite woman turns to you and acknowledges your presence,  her eyes widen in surprise and she rushes to your side. “Oh lord, my dear child are you okay?” she grabs your hands and ushers you down the hall into a secluded room that takes up a big portion of the ground floor of the house.

The kitchen, filled with plenty of workers,busy hands and food; she shouts at a maid to move a few things around and to make some space for you around the small table that holds vegetables and freshly cut meat. There’s the smell of spices that are definitely too exotic to be from these lands, parcels with German writing and several people cooking dishes you don’t recognise.

You're pushed down onto a small wooden chair that slightly rocks and it is by far the most uncomfortable place you’ve ever sat but you don’t dare complain even after the minutes pass and your legs begin to ache. The maids ran around you and even as you left that world behind, you still somehow ended up in the same position and then you realise it’s the fine silk you wear that sets you apart, the rows and rows of pearls around your neck and rings on your fingers. They don’t ask any questions, just wiping away at the dirt on your legs; the same women at the door pouring a type of alcohol over your cuts and it stings drawing out a hiss from you, “sorry” she whispers and blows slightly on the irritated skin. The kitchen quiets down and the other maids exit, leaving you and the same women who scolded Jisung, she didn’t bother to ask him any questions and quickly sent him away to carry on with the work he didn’t finish, she doesn’t ask you any questions either for it’s not her place to ask. 

She wraps bandages around your knees and your eyes wander around, landing on a picture of her with three little boys, you recognise the smallest to be Jisung, she catches your eyes and smiles “the masters, when they were little devils” she remarks making you and her both let out small laughs, “though they aren't much better now” she smiles fondly as she continues to wrap the bandages, you see love in her eyes and can tell that she raised them.

“The smallest is Jisung, am I correct?” you ask just to confirm your assumption, she nods and smiles, “i can tell by his awkwardness, it’s radiant even in pictures” you scoff and she laughs. "Who are the other two?" Your curiosity seemingly has no end.

"The tallest is master Jeno and the one in the middle is master Jaemin" she says as she cuts the bandage. You take note of their names and match it to their appearances though you assume they've probably changed quite a bit. The tallest, Jeno has crescent moons for eyes as his smile pushes them up, it's adorable. The middle, Jaemin also has a bright smile, probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen but Jisung still stands out the most to you, maybe it’s because you’ve seen how he looks now; the change is definitely visible, he’s grown much taller and into his sharp features. He's definitely handsome, epitome of beauty but by the way he timidly walks you’re not quite sure he knows it.

“Will these do, ma’am?” her hands hold onto a set of clean clothes and you only nod at her as you take the clothes from her hands, calloused and rough from years of labour. "Please just call me y/n" you tell her trying to remove your status and she only nods in return. "And what may I call you" you ask her.

"Daphne" she replies and you notice that she smiles at you, a full smile nothing quite like you've seen before and you'd like to think this what a smile should look like. Genuine. Instead of all the small smiles you recieved, the ones with hidden agendas and meanings, the ones because of who your father was, the one because of your status, name, title, money and a persuasion for your hand in marriage. So many smiles yet none truly considered one. God you hated that life.

"Now y/n let me show you to a room" she leads you out the room and you follow her upstairs, all the maids rushing back into the kitchen after you have left. She turns left and right and you find that the upstairs is far more complicated to navigate, with many different rooms. When she finally reaches a long corridor, she stops to point at the room that awaits at the end. "That will be your room ma'am" and before she even could finish her sentence properly, "y/n" you correct her and she only nods, giving you a soft smile as an apology."Please call for me if anything isn't to your liking" she says and just as she's about to step away, ready to leave you to get comfortable.

You call her back, "Daphne, can you please tell me who this is" you lift up the small blue letter that leads you here to this address, to finally put a name to the mysterious woman who only seemed to want the best for you and your mother. She takes the small letter from your grasp, examining the small font that's slowly fading due to the number of years it's collected dust. Her eyes widen as she reads the letter, her head snapping up to look at you, her lips parting slightly as if her jaw threatened to drop.

"My god" she says as she continues to read, shock written all over her face, "this is from the master's mother, dear" she tells you and you join her in shock as your jaw hangs a lot more obviously in shock. "She worked for your family when she was young" she continues to tell you and the ripples of shock continue to pulse through your body. Your mother and her are good friends from what you've gathered, reading all the letters you found. Yet your mother never even allowed you to mix classes, always telling you to stick with your own people, people who can pay for your time, literally. Yet here she was being friends with a woman considered below her, even considering sending you away to her. The hypocrisy is what shocked you the most, for you didn't think your mother could build relationships if it weren't for a social advantage.

"Can I meet her?" you ask, excited until you see sadness seep into her eyes, she looks down and she shuffles slightly. Her eyes glossy with tears threatening to fall and your own shoulders droop down and a frown is formed on your lips. "I'm sorry" you apologise but she shakes her head and wipes her eyes slightly.

"Don't be silly, you didn't know and it's better you found out through me anyways." She tells you and you're glad that you found out through her too, you don't think you would've been able to handle it coming from Jisung. "If you do not mind me, but when did she pass" you ask carefully as to not break her.

"Last May" she tells you and you hear sadness in her voice , as it slightly cracks and you release a deep sigh as to rid your body from the contagious mood. With that she hands the letter back into your hand and leaves you to wash up, "Dinner will be ready soon, please wash up" she urges you to go into the room.

You walk down the corridor, steps heavy as your heart grieves for Jisung and as you're reminded of your own father's death, though he planned on marrying you to a stranger you didn't love and never truly wanting you to live happily. You loved and still love him with every ounce of your being, all making grief an impossibly hard process. For your heart hurt and your mind could not comprehend why.  Your eyes stung with tears and your hands trembling with pain and still the mind was questioning why you felt sad. Then the guilt blooms, hovering above you, for this man raised you and cared for you and yet you question your grief as you sit by his deathbed. Yet you remind yourself that questioning your grief is better than not feeling any at all, you remember looking over towards your mother who wore black and instead of grieving her husband's death, she felt grief for her widow status that crushed her social status, for who was she without her husband.

So as you remove the many pearls and diamonds around your neck, gifted to you by your mother, you’re reminded why you left that life behind. You won’t be defined by your husband but by what you have achieved and for who you are. Yet you leave on the thin golden chain with a single pendant on your neck, as a reminder for where to come from and how far you’ve travelled. It was a gift from both your mother and father, the one gift you like to think wasn’t used as a symbol of your wealth to attract men in asking for your hand in marriage, the simplicity of this necklace led you to believe that this was a genuine gift of their love.

Changing out of your ball gown or the remainders of it, you feel anew. Stripping out of your old skin and into much comfortable and humble ones, you feel as if your new life is finally starting and though it’s far from what anyone would have wanted for your life to be like, it’s what you want. You’ve been here for just under an hour and instantly you're on cloud nine, floating to where only the sun is. The rays dancing on your skin and euphoria runs within your veins, this is life.  

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in a daze but soft knocks on the door is what awakens you and you're quick to open the door, not wanting to leave the person on the other side waiting but you’re met with a fist, that seems as if it malfunctions as it goes down by the side of the same person who seems to waking you out of all your dazes recently. Jisung stands there awkwardly, legs crossed and hands behind his back, he stutters as he says “dinner is...um.. It is awaiting” and with that he cuts himself off, rushing the words out of his mouth and quickly turns around, rushing downstairs.

You can only smile at him, how was someone allowed to be that cute. Following soon after him you enter into the dinning room, the smile on your face completely wiped off by the shock of two other men sitting around the table. Your back straightens as your body stiffens, by habit, you’ve been taught to look most confident when caught off guard.

“Sit here y/n” Daphne takes out the seat opposite of Jisung and next to a man you don’t know until he smiles your way, you recognise that smile and it’s still as pretty as it looks in the picture hanging in the kitchen. You smile back at him as you make your way by his side and take your seat.

“Hello, I’m Jaemin” he turns to you, dropping his fork and it clatters as it hits the plate, a beautiful smile across his face and you finding it comforting to think it hasn’t changed at all. He then lifts your hand to his lips, placing them softly on your knuckles all whilst keeping that damn smile held across his lips and staring straight into your soul, heat rises up your body slightly thrown back and he can see the shock in your eyes . Your well crafted facade cracking. His eyes are still boring into yours and you can’t move, stuck looking into his eyes, hands stuck to his until a kick. Coming from across the table, a force hits Jaemin’s shin causing him to yelp, instantly turning away from you and dropping your hand, you notice a small smile on Jisung’s face as he tries to conceal his laughter. You turn to look at where such a force came from, fierce strong features and an intimidating stare yet when he turns to you crescent moons appear, his aura changing immediately and the child in the portrait comes to life. “I’m Jeno” his voice is soft yet clear and all you can do is smile back before replying simply your name “Y/N” you tell him and he nods your way. 

Thinking that silence would now set in was foolish of you, for you should’ve guessed Jaemin isn’t the type to let there be silence and looking back now you could definitely tell he was itching to ask you so many questions. “I guess you have already met Jisung” he turns to you again and you only nod, looking up at the tall boy in front of you but he only stares at the soup in front of him but you know he senses your gaze as he twitches slightly in his seat, holding himself back from looking up and directly into your eyes. “He is not usually this quiet, he will warm up to you soon” Jaemin apologises on behalf of Jisung yet he grimaces at the words that leave Jaemin’s mouth but you smile at Jaemin ignoring Jisung’s expression.

The rest of dinner is filled with small talk between you and Jaemin, him asking you your favourite colour and trivial things like that, you discussed different authors and scriptors to which Jeno also chimed in on the conversation, both very impressed on your knowledge though you aren’t sure if they were impressed because you were a woman or genuinely impressed by the vast knowledge you had accumulated over the years spent in your father’s library however you brushed that thought aside, carrying on with the conversation, eyes drifting to Jisung at times who just sat there playing around with spoon, twisting it between his fingers instead of daring to look at you let alone to add to the conversation. Finally as Daphne takes away the plates, Jeno stands up dismissing himself from the table, “It was a pleasure to meet you Y/N, I hope you stay a while it was fun having you” he tells you with those same moons for eyes and you thank him for his hospitality “It was a great pleasure to meet you too, thank you for allowing me to stay” you say them at Jeno and Jaemin but they’re mainly directed to Jisung who brought you here.

“If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to tell me” Jaemin smiles, a hand on your shoulder as he stands next to where you sit and you only nod at him, he then comes to your ear, lips so close you feel them brush against the shell “Jisung will come around, I’m sorry if he’s making you feel uncomfortable” he apologises on his behalf for the second time that night and you wave him off with a smile. You could already tell that Jisung is shy and awkward but it’s not confused for hate or resentment, he simply doesn’t know how to act around a female and it’s clear the way he trips over his words and his very own legs but to be fair they are very long.

After everyone left the table and made their ways to their own rooms, you too made your way to bed. Laying there you think back to how far you’ve come, a few months ago this all would have been nothing but a dream and now it’s a reality and the euphoric feeling you imagine is everything and more. Freedom is worth anything is what you’ve learnt, the freedom to live your life the way you want. To be in control of all your decisions, living with the consequences but not a single shred of regret because you chose it and therefore it must have been for a reason. It’s new and exciting but so scary as the colony of butterflies bloom in your stomach, all the possibilities panning out in your head and for some reason as you drift off to sleep that night, you see Jisung in this future of yours.

The sun shined in through the sheer curtains of your room, sunlight dancing on your skin and the warmth made you feel alive as it tingled. The house was quiet and as you look out the window you realise that even the Sun has still yet to wake fully, still sleepy rising out of the horizon. The birds chirp and the lavender fields roar as the wind dances but there in the middle of it all is a figure. Jisung. Your eyes light up and your legs are quick to move, still in your nightgown, hair in a mess you rush to meet him there. The stairs creak as you step down them slowly, as if a child trying not to get caught, you try your best not to wake a soul.

Once out the door you run out towards the purple sea, the cold morning air refreshing to the midday humidity that sticks your clothes to your skin, instead the wind blows through you and you feel free as all boundaries and confinements are washed away but then it hits you, causing your legs to halt. Jisung barely knows you, how weird it would be for you to run up to him at the break of dawn? Very weird you decide as you slowly make your way back to the house, hoping to not make any noise that might draw his attention your way.

Stepping back inside, your back against the heavy wooden door you let out a deep sigh as your eyes fall closed in relief. Thank god he didn't see you, you think to yourself as you just stepped into the living room and your heart dropped down to your stomach, lungs stopping as you see him there. Jisung flicking through a book, his eyes come up to meet yours which are blown out in shock as you stare between him and looking back at the door, his lips fold into a line and you practically see the questions forming in his mind as he scratches the top of his head.

“Good Morning” you say with a smile but the embarrassment isn’t covered well, eyes everywhere but his. He softly replies with a mumble you’re unsure if he actually said anything back or if you just made it up but as your eyes land on the book in his hand and all thoughts are banished. You rush round the table, Jisung’s eyes wide now as it’s his turn to be shocked as you sit down beside him, taking the book out of his hand to have a look at the title. “Ah a classic” you say as your fingers run over the title and Jisung only nods at your words. “Is it your favorite Shakespearean play?” you ask in hopes of starting up conversation, all you get in return is nod of the head but that does nothing but urge you to talk again to fill the silence. “I like Hamlet but i think Macbeth is my favourite. The best character being Lady Macbeth, a strong ambitious women” you state and Jisung only laughs at this causing you to turn back to him.

“She had lost her mind” he laughs again and you smile

“Yes but as a woman she exerts power and it’s not really seen much in female characters in stories and real life” you tell him, explaining how a woman like her is admirable for her strong spirit.

“Yes but doesn’t Shakespear describe her to have a masculine soul that within a femine body, he is saying the ambition and power are masculine and therefore is she really a good embodiment for strong powerful females?” he argues back, questioning you and you can’t help but smile.

“But he uses her and the witches to plant the idea of murder in Macbeth’s head, he shows that they are powerful and can achieve what they want through manipulation which he explains to be a women’s method, they are in control of the men and it shows that if it weren’t for social confinments that they would pursue their ambitions for themselves, is Macbeth really the one in control?” you question him back and he smiles

“You win” he laughs and pride is struck through you, there’s no feeling quite similar to winning a debate but there's sadness at the bottom of your gut as you remember and miss your brothers who you would debate with until frustrations would burst out of you all and it leads to punches being thrown around.

“Let me guess, you hate Romeo and Juliet” he expects you to say yes and you know it’s because he probably thinks their love for each other is shallow but you can’t say you do.

“I don’t actually, aside from the whole love at first sight, I somewhat relate to it” you tell him eyes staring at him but unfocused as you think back to how your own life was in comparison to Juliet’s, “the being forced into something you don’t want and dying for your freedom, in this case her freedom was Romeo but i don’t think he was the only reason she chose to flee, I’d like to think ran away for herself and to allow herself her own choices in life” and then silence as Jisung took in your words, a perspective he had never really thought about, the story was always solely based on romance but then again he had never been put in the position of being forced into something so life changing such as marriage. Jisung couldn’t begin to comprehend how it felt to be used so obviously for social gain and being stripped and deprived of anything else that would hinder that.

 Sensing stiffness in the air, you had to do something about it, you finally got Jisung to actually have a conversation with you. “Still Macbeth is the best” and again you manage to get a laugh out of him. The sound is so sweet that angels come down to listen to it, the heavens split open at the first bubble of laughter that leaves his mouth and your eyes light up as your body tingles with pride for causing it, you’re addicted to it and you're itching to hear it again. You need to hear it again.

The moment is cut off though with the entrance of Jaemin and Jisung’s eyes avert to his brother greeting him a good morning as quietly as he did to you and Jaemin sleepy replies in a yawn, rubbing his eye  before sitting down opposite you. “Morning y/n” he greets you and you smile before greeting him back, turning back to Jisung to hopefully start up the conversation again. “So what else are you reading?” you ask and your eyes light up as you scan over the many books on the table before you.

“Oh y/n, you know how to read!” Jaemin jumps up, it wasn’t expected for someone to be literate to the extent they could read Shakespeare or any higher educational scriptures, unless of a high class, let alone a women but your father taught you all he could and then you leached off your brothers who were lucky enough to be sent to school but Jaemin had already been aware of this “Yes my father taught me” you tell him and he nods rapidly.

“Yes I know, I just thought you’d like to know that there’s a library upstairs if you ever get bored and want to read something” he tells you and excitement bubbles up inside you and the instinct to run up there and have a look at their book collection is something far harder to conceal then it should be and Jaemin laughs at your eagerness. “Jisung could use someone like you, he’s always trying to get away from his studies” and you hear Jisung let out a nervous laugh as you turn towards him, completely offended.

“You have the privilege of being able to study and you want to run away from it” you gasp and it causes Jaemin to laugh again but this wasn’t a laughing matter, you were completely serious. You would die to be in his position and something about the way Jisung holds an apologetic look makes you think he knows you would.

“I guess you’ll just have to be with him to help him study” Jaemin offers a solution and your eyes light up at this, the excitement running through your veins. You all know exactly what that means, yes it’s babysitting Jisung to make sure he gets all his work done but it also means you get to study whatever he’s learning and expand your knowledge as far as you can. Jisung seemed hesitant at first but after seeing how you visibly lit up at the suggestion he couldn’t help but agree to take you along with him when he had to study.

After breakfast Jisung led you up to the library, it was a large room filled from ceiling to floor with books, the sight alone made you dizzy with excitement, as you stepped in the beloved smell of old books filled your senses and your hands instantly rushed to run along the spines of every book. Your eyes sparkled as you looked over each one and Jisung watched as fascination completely engulfed you, he couldn’t stop watching as you pick out a book, couldn’t take his eyes off you as your eyes skimmed the blurb, he was mesmerized by what he wasn’t too sure of. His eyes didn’t seem to be able to move on from your figure until you turned to face him, time stood still as he watched more and more of the bright smile that was held across your face be revealed to him, you were beautiful. Once met with yours, his eyes scrambled away as they always do and he was quick to turn around and seat himself at the desk that sat in the centre of the room.

You too situated yourself on one of the more comfortable chairs, opposite to Jisung, you watched him begin to write, his head slanted and both arms splayed out on the table, he was the height of beauty and grace, the gods carved him from marble, so ethereal Aphrodite herself was jealous of his perfection, Apollo envied his grace. Though you were here to study, read as many books time allowed you, your eyes were distracted and little did you know they were distracting Jisung as well. Your gaze causes his breath to halt, his hands to sweat and pink dust to decorate his skin. You were dazed, stuck in a trace of his beauty and had to do something to get out of it, you clenched your hand; nails digging into your palms, pressing hard to wake you. You forced your head to the side, eyes looking at the bookshelf once again but your actions caused Jisung to look up, you can feel his stare on you and a shiver is sent through your spine, too scared to look back at him, afraid you’ll be pulled back into his trance.

“You have a lot of German books” you say, hoping your nervousness isn’t obvious and just to be sure you get up and head towards the books. You feel him staring at every step you take and you just pray you're the only one that can hear the loud thumping of your heart against your ribcage as a colony of butterflies bloom in your stomach. Fingers tracing over the German writing on the spine of each book, you try to distract yourself from him and try to compose yourself once again but then his voice echoes through the room, deep and smooth it sends shivers rippling through you.

“My father was stationed in Germany” he tells you as his eyes finally move away from your figure, a sense of relief washes over you as he continues to write once again. Yet you're still too nervous to turn around, too nervous to look at him, he who is the epitome of beauty.

“Still?” you ask, filling in the silence as you pull out another book, examining the words on the front cover but you instantly regret it as Jisung’s eyes fall back onto you.

“After the war he was assigned a higher position in the Rhineland and then after they were dismissed he was asked to stay along the French borders'' he tells you and once again your curiosity gets the best of you and you ask him another question. If you remember correctly, it’s been 10 years since the dismissal of the troops in the Rhineland.

“So when was the last time you saw him?” and instantly you regret the words that leave your mouth, your curse yourself a million times over. Jisung’s silence is all too overwhelming and your chest grows tighter as guilt takes over your body and just as you’re about to apologise, he answers

“He visited last year” Jisung simply states but you can hear the strain in his voice, the pain he’s tried his best to cover yet it seeps through and your glad you can’t see him right now because you couldn’t bare to see the sparkle in his eyes fade slightly as you remember the passing of his mother, that most probably led to his father returning back home. Silence settles again and your frozen by the shelves, the air so heavy it feels as if weights were holding you down, your mind hazy as you space out and as the common pattern goes, Jisung wakes you out of the depths of your mind with a voice as smooth as honey, it provides a comfort that sends shivers down your spine.  “He’ll be back soon though, he’s officially been discharged for retirement” he tells you as if he can feel your stiffness and out of the corner of your eye you see he’s giving you a small comforting smile, just to make the air seem a little lighter.

Time seems to fly past as you both sit there, Jisung’s hands busy writing away as he refers back to scriptures and your eyes busy as you read up on German politics and the structure of the Weimar constitution, that revolutionised democracy, the sun was now high in the sky as noon approached. You didn’t even notice until Jisung let out a loud yawn, arms above his head as he stretched and let out mumbles of how you should stop for today or at least take a break. You only nodded in response as you stretched your own limbs out, you had ended up curled up in the chair with your legs tucked away as you leaned into what you were reading. Jisung couldn't help but smile as he looked up occasionally to see your eyebrows furrowed as you read and he can't help the soft laugh from escaping his lips now as he watches you stretch. "And what is it that you find so funny?" You question him, eyes narrowed but your lips are clearly fighting back a smile and the sight of it flusters Jisung, stammering over his words ``N-Nothing" he answers and you let out a small smile to let him know you were only kidding.

As you both leave the room, you can't help but follow Jisung "and what is it you do after you are done studying?" Your question startled him as he visibly flinched at the sound of your voice and he mentally tells himself to get used to your unquenchable curiosity. "Except for picking lavenders" you tease. He lets out a soft laugh, the same sound you've been itching to hear since this morning.

"Nothing much" he tells as he makes his way down the stairs. Following him down, he makes his way towards the drawing room, sitting himself down in an old velvet chair, you place yourself beside him in a matching one. Your eyes peering over towards his hands that pull at needle and thread and you’re astounded by the sight in front of you, a male who knows how to sew is as rare as diamonds, as impressive as gold. Jisung continuously stuns you, his nimble fingers work diligently as they pull the thread to make patterns across the once plain cloth.

He can feel the burn of your stare on his hands, his chest tightens and his nerves are lit on fire, he is hyper aware of every wander of your eyes. His mind clouded by the mere thought of you watching him, his mind so fixated on impressing you, for a reason he’s not sure of, he doesn’t pay much attention to the needle any longer; a mistake he realises once the sharp point collides with the soft skin of his index, drawing blood. He flinches back away from the sharp contact as you leap forward to cup his hand in both of yours. Pressing your thumb against his finger, applying pressure in hopes of stopping the seeping blood, you slightly blow upon it to relieve it of any pain but Jisung can’t feel any pain not when your overwhelming heat rolls of you and radiates on to his skin, with every touch sparks fly on top of his skin fizzling underneath and seeping into his bloodstream. A fluttering blooms in his stomach and Jisung has no idea what this feeling is, it’s new and exciting. He craves it as his eyes drift to your worried face and once your eyes meet his, the emotion is buried by the overwhelming nervousness he feels engulfing him, his cheeks flush and his breath is caught in his throat. He pulls away from you and quickly stands “I’ll” he pauses thinking what to say next “I’ll get a bandage” he spits the words out as soon as his mind comes up with the excuse.

“I’ll get it, sit down” you stand up and ready to head towards any one of the maids that could help you but your steps are interrupted by Jisung’s voice once again.

“No it’s fine, I’ll get it” he blurts out, hand stopping you as he places in front of you, your head moving back on reflex, and with that Jisung runs out the room; feet moving fast as his left hand tightly wraps around his right index.

You sit there for what felt like forever waiting for Jisung’s return but in reality it was no more than 10 minutes, you were never one to hold patience. So you rose to your feet, eager to find the tall boy that let awkwardness roll off of him. Heading to the direction you saw Jisung turn, you make your way to the familiar kitchen, many busy bodies work their way around preparing for dinner as the clock is nearing sun fall. Your eyes wander the familiar walls with the same pictures you stared at upon the first day of your arrival, until they stopped on the figure they seeked. There he stood by the wooden table that just about reached his waist. He poured flour into a bowl, followed by two eggs and your eyes watched his every moment again and as if he could sense you, his rose to meet you once again. You smile because it just comes so naturally when with him and he smiles back, how could he not?

Inviting yourself in, you step closer towards Jisung, “A cook too” you say, you’re impressed and it’s evident in your voice.

“It’s a basic necessity” he says yet there’s a pink coating that dusts his cheeks, you know he’s flattered by your words despite his own.

“Basic necessity?” you question as you sit down, legs crossed, on an empty wooden chair just by where he stands “I guess I should learn” you state nonchalantly, not expecting the reaction it would provoke from Jisung. His head snaps to turn to you, his eyes searching your face for any indication that you were only pulling his leg, that this was only a joke but those indications never showed because this wasn't a joke, you were serious.

“What? Does a girl have to know how to cook?” you question him in a scoff, an eyebrow raised as you question his thoughts that control his expressions.

“No they don’t but I can be surprised, I know you are surprised I can” he rebuttals, calling out your hypocrisy but to this you only smile, you were glad Jisung could stand his own ground, it wouldn’t be fun otherwise.

“More impressed than surprised” you state, earning a smile from Jisung once again, you pat yourself on the back each time you manage to pull out that sweet, healing smile that seems to wash all worries away.

“Who’s to say I’m not impressed” he questions you once again and continues to mix the batter, adding more ingredients, again you smile at his words and Jisung feels his heart flutter at every stretch of your lips. He craves to see it more.

“Can you teach me?” your question catches him off guard and his eyebrows leap up into the soft brown hair that covers his forehead, “what I’m not totally hopeless, I’ve read a book on it before” you pout. Laughter rings through the air as Jisung has doubled over, unable to hold in the snorts and his breathing unsteadies as your words register in his head and this only makes your pout more prominent and your eyebrows knit together.

“I’m sorry” Jisung laughs out as his eyes fall onto your expression but he can’t hold it in, a few bubbles of laughter spilling out as he tries to calm his breaths, his eyes glossy as tears threaten to fall and you try to fight back your own laughter as the corners of your lips slightly perk up. “Did you say you read a book on cooking” he can’t even get through the sentence without laughing but he’s quick to reign it back in to allow you to answer.

“Yes” you say proudly, head still held high and Jisung bites down on his lips as the splutters of laughter threaten to escape again. “It’s obviously not the same thing but I’ve read basic methods” you state in defence.

“You make it sound like science” he scoffs at your words and you roll your eyes at his.

“Is it not, the mixing of substances to achieve a product. It sounds like alchemy to me” you explain your thought process and Jisung nods in agreement. Though you can tell he has something to say.

“Alright then, let us say cooking is science” he begins and you raise your eyebrow in questioning as to where this is leading “reading a method for an experiment is not the same as doing the experiment, there are things that are not accounted for, practical errors, measuring errors. The method tells you what to do but not how to do it” and before he can even finish his sentence properly you jump up, startling him slightly as he flinches back.

“And that is where you come in to teach me, guide me through the experiment” you plead but it sounds like he doesn’t really have an option, you’re practically telling him. He sighs but he has to give, how could he not when you're giving him your sweetest smile and when your eyes are practically begging him.

“I’m surprised you want to learn” he questions you “I thought you’d avoid anything that would have been forced upon you” he explains as he hands you an apron.

Your smile extends ear to ear as you take the apron from his hands, tying in behind your back you explain your sudden want to learn “Yes but I’m choosing to learn, this isn’t about adding another quality of a wife to my resume. This about extending my knowledge and as you said it is a basic necessity.”

Jisung only nods at your answer as he hands you another bowl, some ingredients already placed inside “follow after me” he says as he cracks an egg and pours it’s insides into the bowl and then turning to you he see you struggle, knocking the egg against the table softly you try and mimic his actions “Did the book not mention eggs?” he laughs and so does Daphne who observes close by as you send him glares that wish him death.

“Like this” he says as he places his hands over yours, guiding you but your eyes aren’t focused on the egg in your hold, you’re focused on Jisung who’s so close, too close. You feel his breath on the side of your neck and goosebumps arise on the surface of your skin as shivers are sent down your spine. The scent of cotton, jasmine and of course lavenders invade your senses and blur your mind. You can’t help but stare at Jisung, perfection personified as he concentrates on explaining how to assure no shell falls into the batter. Yet the words enter one ear and exit the other as you watch his lips move, your eyes stuck and it’s only when his eyes move up to meet yours does he also realise the little space between the two of you. His hands still holding onto yours, his eyes move down. Slowly they trace the features of your face, the bridge of your nose, the dip of your cupid’s bow and then they stop at your lips. His breathing halts, his heart skips beats as it dances in his chest and when he feels unbearable heat take over him he forces himself away from you. Quickly flinching back, his warmth leaves you, he clears his throat and turns from your gaze that still stares, he continues showing you what to do and no more words are exchanged as the heaviness in the air sets in.

Many weeks go by where you and Jisung spend all your mornings in the library, which had now become your favourite spot in the house, you look forward to picking up a new book every morning, look forward to watching Jisung so focused on his work, telling him all about what you’ve learnt and occasionally sparking up a debate but you also find yourself staring out the window wishing for the sun to only raise itself higher and higher as you wish for midday to arrive, to run away with Jisung down into the kitchen where he continues to teach you how to cook, some days he would take you into town to pick out fresh ingredients or some days into the drawing room where he attempts to teach you how to sow. After a few failed attempts, your patience wearing thin and much blood being drawn from your fingers, you give up on sewing however cooking is a much greater achievement and the outcome was worth every bit of it. The smile on Jisung’s face every time he’d taste something he’d liked, every time you remember a part of a recipe and every time he would sit down at the dinner table and Jeno or Jaemin would compliment your cooking. He felt immense pride in you and it fostered a love for cooking within you.

Other days when the weather prohibited it, Jisung would take you out into the lavender field. You’d sit in between the rows and rows of purple, picking at the prettiest ones.The sun high in the sky, august warmth embracing you as the wind blew over the roaring fields, dancing between your hair. “Look I learnt this from a book” you sit beside Jisung, his head snaps up and his attention is on your fingers now as they twirl the thin stems in and around each other to form a knot. “Purity, silence, devotion and grace are what a lavender symbolise” you begin to tell him “and you Jisung” you place the intertwined lavenders behind his ear, he’s visibly flustered as his cheeks turn hues of pink and it only urges you on “are exactly that” you whisper to him as if the lavenders had ears and could hear your confession, for these words are for Jisung’s only.

Jisung’s eyes widened as each word that was revealed to him, his heart thumping in his chest and his mind set on fire as chaos engulfed him. His thoughts scrambled and instantly his mind went to countless different possibilities as to what those words meant but looking up at you his mind cleared for he only saw beauty. The beauty your eyes held, as they sparkled infinitely each time they skimmed over the countless words on a book, the beauty your smile held when someone complimented your new found cooking skills, the beauty in your voice each time you called on him as the new found nickname “sungie” which caused his heart to melt, the beauty you held in the way you carried yourself never letting anyone put you down. Jisung adored you in every way, embers in his chest that grew into a flame, which spreads through his entirety burning all. A blissful pain sits at the core of him, aching, he longs for you but do you long for him? Is he but a fool to fall in love with a stranger, the stranger in the lavender fields. Is he a fool for falling in love with you? Is this even love? His eyes fixated on your lips, he examines the curve of them, the colour, their beauty. As if they were magnets he’s drawn to them, slowly inching himself forward, so close he could feel the warm air that made it past them.

So close and yet so far is he to you, the sweet smell of lavenders is dizzying, the sunlight burns your skin but against Jisung’s it only illuminates his, he glows. The urge to place your lips on top of his, eats away at your skin, the want crawls under and down your spine, shivers resonate throughout your body as he nears. The world falls away, the slight buzzing of bees fade, the tickles of the grass dissipate and you only feel Jisung. His presence, the brush of his knee against yours and the warmth that radiates off him. Your heart stops, you stop breathing, anticipating what’s about to happen next until suddenly Jisung’s head snaps to the right and reality comes flooding in as you hear both your names ringing and ripping through the air. “Jisung! Y/N!” Daphne shouts and Jisung jumps up answering for both of you “We’re coming!” Left completely stunned you sit there, mind in chaos as your embarrassment engulfs you. Your eyebrows furrowed, you think to yourself how you could allow for yourself to fall into his spell. What were you thinking? That’s the problem, around Jisung you can’t think, everything happens on pure instinct and desire. Then as if you had rewinded time, a shadow is casted over you, a hand is placed in front of you to take and as he did on that first day, he snaps you out of your daze. “Are you feeling well?” he asks in that same soft voice. Your hand twitches to move towards him and it takes everything in your power to stop it from falling into his grasp once again.

“Fine” it comes out much colder than you expected it to as you rise up to your feet on your own, his hand is left hanging awkwardly to which he slowly closes before placing it behind his head as he bites his bottom lip and your eyes can’t help but fall on them again, they which were so close and yet so far. “Let’s go” and this time you lead him out of the lavender field.

The walk back to the house is silent, the same awkwardness that hadn’t made an appearance in so long settles in the air, it’s thick and heavy and you can feel it weigh you down. Upon arriving back to the house, a carriage awaits outside, a military emblem on the back and your heart drops, eyes widen and your steps stop. “It couldn’t be” you let out at barely a whisper.

But the slightest sound from you is enough to have Jisung’s head snap up towards you, for he’s been waiting for you to make a sound, any sound to rid this atmosphere. "What is it?" He asks also hushed, his eyes follow yours and there it leads to the carriage, a smile rips through his face and he runs ahead.  Confused you rush your steps but the anxiety building up in your chest stays, the lump in your throat is still hard to swallow.

“Y/N!” Jaemin calls you whilst waving his hand eagerly, calling you to come quickly and as you step closer the constraining feeling in your chest dissipates as the figure that steps out of the carriage is an unknown one to you. You stand by Jaemin’s side, who radiates excitement off him and you can’t help but smile as the little boy in the picture is standing right before you, the same eager stance and pretty smile that even the sun envies. The man exists and immediately pulls Jeno into an embrace so tight and you swear you see Jeno’s eyes sparkle as tears threaten to fall. Jisung is much less subtle at concealing his tears, he sobs into the man’s shoulder and it’s only then you presume this is their father. Jisung’s eyes are red and he sniffles as his father let’s go of him and your heart clenches at his adorableness. Jaemin is as happy as ever, hugging his father as tight as ever, eyes closed in pure bliss. You’re smiling like a fool as the heartwarming scene unfolds in front of you, so busy looking at the happy smiles and the stray few tears that are still running down Jisung’s cheeks you don’t notice the new acquaintance step in front of you until he clears his throat and you jump to meet his gaze.

“You must be Y/N” he smiles extending his hand and you place yours in it, shaking it. “I’ve heard a lot about you in all my son’s letters” your eyes widen and your turn to the three boy, Jaemin with that damn smirk on his face, Jisung avoiding your eyes and as always finding his shoes much more interesting, thank god for Jeno who offers a comforting smile assuring it’s all good things. “Sir you’ve raised three fine men, who have all welcomed me” you bow your head in thanks and he smiles once again.

“I couldn’t possible take any credit for it, it’s all thanks to their mother and Daphne of course” he turns from you to her and she pulls him into an embrace “Thank you for looking after them” he says barely audible but Daphne catches it and just as softly replies “but of course”. As everyone heads inside you wait until Jisung is by your side to start heading in as well, “Crybaby” you whisper with a teasing smile you nudge him with your elbow, he scoffs as he’s wiping his tear stained cheeks but he can’t help smile back at you.

Seated around the dining table, as always by Jaemin’s side and opposite Jisung, their father sits at the head of the table and more food than ever is being served tonight in celebration. You’re much more quiet tonight despite Jaemin continuously making sure you feel involved in the conversation, you’re eternally grateful for him. “So Y/N, why did you leave home?” their father asks so casually it almost goes unnoticed by the boys but Jisung almost chokes on his water, Jeno’s eyes widen and Jaemin almost immediately tries to shut down the conversation “Father” he gives him a pointed look, jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowed as he shakes his head.

“Jaemin, it's okay" you smile towards him, "freedom i suppose sir" you answer the question and Jisung's father squints his eyes, as he lets out a hum in acknowledgement of your answer. "Even after all your family has done for you?" He continues to question "you come from the family my late wife used to work under, am I correct?" And you simply nod "yes I do".

"The late General's daughter" he states "I wonder if he's turning in his grave at this moment" Jisung's grip on his silverware tightens and you notice his knuckles turn white and once again Jaemin's stare is begging his father to stop as Jeno looks over to see how affected you are by his cruel words. You don't falter though, you know what you've done can seem selfish but it was necessary "I'm sure he is" you laugh out "but he's always known I'm never one to listen" you continue to pick away at the food on your plate and you can feel all there gazes falls onto you, as you look up Jisung’s eye bore into yours as he mouths a soft “sorry” to you and you smile back at him shaking your head.

“I assume you’ve run from marriage” Jisung’s father starts up conversation again and you only nod as an answer “Are you against marriage?” he asks and it’s if he wants tears to fall from your eyes as he keeps pushing where he knows it’ll hurt. “Of course not but I would like to pursue a higher education or experience the world first” you explain, still keeping your calm.

“You think a woman is capable of doing such things?” he asks again and it’s this question that really makes your skin crawl and your jaw tighten. Questioning your methods of gaining freedom is one thing but looking down on all women and claiming them unable is one you can’t stand for. “I think we are very capable, I think the suffragettes have made that very clear and sir didn’t you work with the Weimar Government, they were the first government to allow women to vote I would think their initiative would have rubbed off on you” and he only smiles at your answer.

“I was stationed in Germany and worked under the Weimar Government up until their collapse, you’re correct” he begins to tell you “I have to tell you that I agree with your view, I’ve seen much that women are capable of doing” he says and your eyes widen at his words “I think what you did was brave and admirable, my three boys could learn from you, I hope you can lend Jisung some of your courage” he smiles at you and your jaw still hangs as does everyone else's around the table and as you look up to find pink hues invading Jisung’s cheeks once again, if you didn’t know any better you would have thought it were always like that regardless. You nod at their father before answering back “I think I’m the one who’s learning a lot form Jisung sir” and the shades of pink darken

The atmosphere had lightened again somewhat although the topic on war was not a light one at all, as their father expressed his worry about sending his three sons off to war and how in ruins the country would be again, worry sat in your chest. Jeno and Jaemin are strong all physically, emotionally and mentally but Jisung is the sweet boy who wouldn’t hurt a bee. “What do you think of the current situation of our country Y/N'' Jeno taking you out of your thoughts, you head snaps up to him “I think the war is unavoidable despite our economic stance, Germany has already invaded Czechoslovakia and it’s only time before they invade Poland meaning our involvement in the war is definite whether we want it or not'' the table falls silent as they process your words and it’s not until Jisung’s father begins to nod and expand on your thoughts but you zone out as you watch Jisung fiddle with the knotted lavenders you had gifted him and your lips can’t help but curve.

The next morning a book awaited you on your vanity, a scarlet red cover with gold print, you ran your fingers along. “Sonnets'' it read and as you flicked open to the first page, familiar handwriting appeared “A collection of my favourite - Jisung” a smile spread across your face as it usually did when your thoughts ran to Jisung. You sat down flicking to the first poem “Sonnet 18” a giggle escaped your mouth and like a schoolgirl already aware of the beauty Shakespear's arguably most famous sonnet holds, the giddy feeling of butterflies blooming caused your heartbeat to quicken and a heat to rise.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:

Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And too often is his gold complexion dimm’d:

Annotations surround the poem as Jisung highlights and picks out certain lines. The second line is underlined and next to it he writes “Though you are lovely, temperate is definitely up for debate” he teases and you scoff at his words. You read on and lines four and five are underlined and his annotation reads “The eye of heaven is you who shines gloriously throughout the day and yet too often you allow yourself to dim. Don’t.”

And every fair from fair sometimes declines,

By chance or natures changing course untrimm’d;

By thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

“You are my eternal summer, your beauty is one that isn’t possible to vanish, it’s infinite unlike summer which collapses in winter” you read on as lines nine and ten are underlined.

Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

The the final annotation as the last three lines are highlighted, Jisung says “Your beauty shall remain eternal so long as my heart beats, so long as i live and breathe, so long as my eyes can see your beauty, I only seem to think of you now as i read this poem and in this poem the memory of you shall live on” you heart beats erratically in your chest, you’re breathless as his words halt your breathing. Forgetting such simple acts as thinking and even breathing seem to be a regular side effect in the presence of Jisung, just the mere thought of him. Your palms grow sweaty, your heart clenches reading over the words again and again, you pinch yourself. For this moment, seems like nothing but a dream, your heads in the cloud, you're living in the heavens. The feeling is suffocating, your own throat is closing in on you, the pain in your chest spreads like wildfire, your whole body aches with admiration for him. Yet the constant question looms over your head, what does he really mean by this? Is his feeling the same as yours? Or is he portraying the beautiful friendship you both have built over the weeks? One thing is sure and it’s that you can’t ruin that, can’t let the heavy air seep in once again and weigh you down.

The days folded out as normal, Jisung’s presence still as overwhelming as ever but you couldn’t help but find serenity in it, he was soft spoken yet his silence speaks the loudest for him, his grace and beauty as  were one to be envied by all but you were nothing more than grateful for being able to witness it day after day, it were as if he had walked out of your dreams. The stolen glances, lingering stares as he smiled or laughed, he stole your heart and he wasn’t even aware it was his anyways. Sitting opposite him, you stare not caring if he or anyone catches you for your far past the point of holding any shame and allowing your eyes to do as they please.

"I have something to announce" Jeno suddenly speaks up, breaking the silence, all eyes turn to him and he audibly gulps. You’ve never seen him so nervous, fiddling with his silverware you almost mistook him for Jisung. He clears his voice before speaking, taking in a deep breath he prepares himself for the words that are about to leave him, “I am to marry” he says quickly waiting for a response, an outroar, a gasp and maybe a few tears but none of them come.

“About time don’t you think” Jaemin laughs out causing the rest of the table to release small giggles at Jeno’s expense, “You have been all giddy and heart eyes at that girl in the village since we were all but five- OW" Jaemin's face twists in pain, hands rushing to his shin as he's cut off by a harsh kick. Jisung and you burst into laughter not being able to hold it in any longer.

"And what are you two laughing at" Jeno punches at Jisung’s shoulder, immediately causing him to halt his laughter as he rubs his shoulder “Well brother, it’s not like it is a secret. Even Y/N knows” and you giggle again as Jisung enlightens Jeno on his obvious swooning.

“What?” Jeno’s eyes widen as he turns to you and you can’t help but laugh even more. “We visited the village and your eyes were stuck, Jeno you walked straight into Jisung” you burst out laughing as you recall the memory. Once the laughter, the teasing, the amount of huffs that leave Jeno quiet down your left with comfort, a bliss that you’ve never felt before, a smile that just won’t leave your face. It’s a beautiful feeling and you wish to memorise it for if numbness overtakes your body, you can relive this exact moment of the solace you found in those around this table.

“Is that three out of the four of us in love?” Jaemin smirks as he lifts his glass to his lips, looking around the table, Jeno scoffs at his words but confusion is written all over you and Jisung. Did Jaemin know that your heart only seems to beat for Jisung? How did he know? Who was the other person? Was it Jaemin or Jisung? If Jisung, who did he love? The questions ran through your mind in circles and it only spewed more questions to follow, your head was spinning stuck in the spiral of curiosity, but curiosity always killed the cat.

But cats have 8 other lives right? That is what you had decided later that night, sat beside Jisung on the stone wall, letting curiosity take over you - slightly. Your legs dangled, swinging them back and forth, whilst Jisung’s gaze was set on the crashing waves of purple as the moon pulled them back and forth; yours were stuck on him. The moonlight illuminated, captured his beauty in a way the sun couldn’t, it seemed the goddess of the moon saw greater beauty in Jisung than Apollo could ever begin to understand.

“I could not fail to realise that sonnet 23 was not amongst your favourite” your eyes darting out towards the fields as his turn to you, “It’s one of my favourites” you tell him.

“I’m sorry to disappoint but do you not think it’s a bit cliche” he laughs and your eyebrows shoot up in slight disbelief “and sonnet 18 is not” you scoff, finally meeting his eyes.

“Sonnet 18 is beautiful” he argues and he swings into you, nudging you slightly, rolling your eyes you nudge him back “Sonnet 23 is just as or dare I say more” and he smiles slightly, eyes turning back to the night sky, the clouds running over the moon and Jisung is left amongst the stars. “How so?” he dares to question.

“It is, for one, far more romantic” you begin “the thought of one loving you with so much passion, so unconditionally that it can not even be professed by words yet the love they feel is so strong they need an escape, to tell that person what they can not truly express fully, to let them show you how much they love you. To hear with eyes as Shakespear so beautifully put it” you nudge him again and he looks down at you, a smile as radiant as the sun,moon and stars combined graces you and again Jisung has stolen your heart in complete silence

“Yet what I love about Sonnet 18 is that it is not too romantic, that the love that Shakespear professes can be for a lover or a friend, he speaks of all the imperfections of summer yet still he loves it, he describes the person he loves as someone who defies all the imperfections for in his eyes they are perfect imperfections when it comes to them” he nudges you back with a slight giggle but you can’t return his happiness for you have been stung as his words seep into your mind.

“Oh for a friend” you whisper, he hears your words but not the sadness behind them as he continues with that bright smile “and that is why it was so perfect to give to you” his words are daggers to the heart, piercing through, it shatters and the fine pieces scatter throughout you and the sadness seeps through every fibre, cell and atom of your body.

“Are you feeling well?”he asks and worry sweeps the smile off his face as he finds the glossiness of your eyes, the slight redness as well as the unusual silence from you. “Fine” you answer jumping off the stone wall, “Just tired” you say looking out to the goddess of the moon one last time, unable to turn and look at the art she admired most. “Goodnight Jisung” you say as you turn back to the house, not sparing him a glance for he stole your heart and then broke it. 

Though that night your tears mixed with moonlight until Morpheus took you to dream and then the next morning tears mixed with sunlight as Apollo pulled his golden chariot, with swollen eyes and a throbbing head you promised this wouldn’t affect the beautiful friendship that had bloomed. Jisung may not love you the way you would like but he still loved you, as a friend. The mere thought of the word stung, another aching rippled through you and your bones quacked.

Many dusks and dawns had passed and since,you’ve managed to create some distance between you and Jisung but as once said distance makes the heart grow fonder and you curse whoever uttered such truth. For every stolen glance and accidental touch seemed to make your dormant heart beat with every intent of being heard as it rose to your throat, suffocating you.

Jeno’s upcoming wedding being the greatest of all excuses to run away from the burning presence of Jisung, for you would flee to the village with Daphne and pick out materials, help Jeno’s fiance pick flowers, handwrite invitations with Jeno and accompany Jaemin on whatever errands he had been sent to do. No one questioned how you decided to spend your time, other than of course Jaemin who couldn’t help but let his curiosity lead the words that spewed out of him, to which you told him he’d regret someday.

“Just tell me Y/N” he groans as he carries the large basket of apples “Why spend your time with me instead of Jisung” he continues to pursue the answers you deny him of.

“Maybe because, and I dare to say, I like your company more” you pinch his cheek and laugh at the pout that forms on his face “What answer are you looking for Jaems, what would you have me say?”

“I want you to say you are helplessly in love with my brother who is just as in love with you however both of you are too busy quoting literature that is up for interpretation rather than professing your feelings because you lack the courage to do so” you freeze at his words and he also comes to a halt, turning towards you his eyes, sympathetic “you both are as obvious as Jeno” he lets out a small laugh.

“He does not love me Jaemin” your voice stern as you try to convince one who believes in fairytales, your steps quicken and he chases after you “and how exactly do you know?” he questions, curiosity endless.

“He said so, he said he gifted me Sonnet 18 as a friend.” You scoff at the absurd word that causes so much pain and you say it with spite everytime.

“Like I said he lacks courage and as my father said you, Y/N, can help him gain it” he tells you, eyes wide with hope and you admire Jaemin for being a hopeless romantic and you only hope he meets someone who completely fulfills his ideology of love.

“I don’t think I possess such courage anymore” you break it to him for Jisung has broken your heart once, how can you have the courage to allow him the chance to do it again.

Jeno’s wedding arrived much sooner than expected, as the weeks rushed past in much haste as the many busy bodies prepared for the beautiful evening and as hard as you tried to separate yourself from Jisung, the universe liked to disrupt those plans. To the place it all started, so close yet so far apart, you stood rows away from Jisung picking only the prettiest lavenders as per Jeno’s request. The air was thick and heavy despite the August breeze that ran through the fields, an unfamiliar heaviness sat between you two for even as strangers you were far more comfortable. Maybe it’s due to the curiosity you held back then, for the boy in the lavender field, beauty that wasn’t done justice by the word but now that you know him, adore him and are in love with him and now that your heart belongs to him but his not to yours. There’s a void left for the seeping awkwardness to fill, an uneasiness sat in your gut and every moment was excruciating to bare as your heart pains at every beat that belongs to him who does not seem to care.

“Lavenders wouldn’t be my first pick for a wedding” he speaks up first, the silence with you was something he wasn’t used to, you always made sure to replace it with continuous talking and contagious laughter and now that you weren’t, it didn’t feel right to him but you only nod in response not entertaining his thoughts any further. Jisung preferred silence, his thoughts more coherent, his emotions understandable, the silence was comfortable and not overwhelming but with you he couldn’t stand it, mind always wondering what you were thinking, what you were feeling, he needed to know. 

So he carries on speaking, “If it were up to me, Irises and carnations” he expects an interrogation, your endless curiosity asking why that would be his pick but it never comes. So he continues speaking, giving you the answer you didn’t ask for “Irises mean faith, fitting for a lifelong vow” he laughs as he looks over to you stoic expression, cutting off his soft laughter he again begins to speak “and carnation, white ones that symbolise-”

“Eternal love” you cut him off, turning to him, finally speaking yet your tone is monotonous and there is no emotion evident on your face. There’s slight fear in him and it rises, a lump forming in his throat that he can’t quite seem to swallow “Exactly” he choked out, voice strained.

You let out a breath that seemed to be weighing you down, you couldn’t let him continue talking about the meaning behind the flowers, your heart couldn’t take it for aching stops momentarily and instead it flutters and swoons across your chest but then reality hit and it shatters all over again, the pain shooting through your bloodstream.

“Are you feeling well?” he asks as he always does and you answer “Fine” as you always do, even though you both know it’s a lie but he doesn’t push any further as always. The longing feeling for you to look at him and spill all your worries and feelings to him is so great but he doesn’t want to push you to nor does he expect you to trust him with that vulnerability when he himself does not have the courage to do the same back to you.

“I’m going to leave after Jeno’s wedding” you announce working up the little courage you have left, if you say it out loud then you’ll have to follow through. “Thank you for everything” you brace yourself to meet his eyes once more as you turn. “What? Why?” concern so evident in the way his voice wavers, eye glossed over as tears threaten to fall.

“I left to seek my own happiness in life, to make a mark on this Earth yet instead I ran from relying on my family to relying on you and yours” again your voice is completely void of emotions, yet every part of your body was screaming. Longing for the warmth, solace and peace you had found here and it’s at this point you curse yourself for memorising that bliss for all you will do is miss it.

“Did you not feel happiness here?” he screams out, harsher than he expected as he voice comes out rough and broken and you stand there eyes wide for this was the first time the pure,silent and serene boy that stands in the lavender fields has allowed so much emotion to course through his body and you can tell by the way he shakes, the way he struggles to breath and the shock that immediately washed over him upon hearing his own voice raised “I’m sorry” he mumbles in a heavy exhale.

“Thank you for everything Jisung” you offer him a smile as you leave, avoiding his question, leaving him standing alone in the lavender fields.

Leaving the basket of lavenders with Jeno, you rush up the stairs and only when behind the safety of your door do you allow the tears to come streaming down your face, sobs escaping and you hold your mouth to conceal them as you take deep shaky breaths to steady your breathing. Your whole body aches and shakes as it mours the end of your stay, the tears cloud your vision and as you lay down to ease the heartbeat in your head, you cry yourself into a slumber. Even as the dreams swirl around you, pulling you into the unconscious, reality never truly slips away, it haunts you as even in the world you build you can’t stray away from it. The ability to dream of anything further isn’t a possibility, he doesn’t love you and that’s the reality. Why bother dreaming of something that isn’t meant to be. Yet you can’t help but dream of him. His eyes, his smile, his warmth, the pink dust that always decorates his cheeks, his laugh and his existence.

In your days you are held hostage by the daydreams, the what ifs. It felt like you had loved him in every lifetime, you wonder if any had got it right? Had any been loved by him? Your body lies stiff, falling in and out of consciousness but your mind never leaves him. Days go by but time becomes nothing but a construct, eating only becomes a chore.

“Y/N?” a soft voice calls as the door narrows open, a steady stream of gold shining in. You don't move, your head feeling like it's weighed down but you can easily identify the soft voice that speaks. "I brought you something to eat" the footsteps near you, the heavy thuds vibrating through your head. Your eyes peek open to meet Jaemin who crouches down beside you. He moves the few stray strands of hair behind your ear, noticing the wet glimmer of your cheeks he wipes away the tears that stain them.

"What's wrong?" He whispers as if any harsher tone would break you, as if you weren't already broken. You shake your head as your only reply, voice too weak and broken to speak up. You would love to talk to Jaemin, to spill all your worries and heartache but this is a pain too painful to speak of. His hands hold onto your cheeks wiping away any of the stray tears that still fall. His warmth is comforting but it only makes you yearn for Jisung’s more.

Jaemin doesn't leave you that day, he sits by your side in silence. He holds your hand and wipes away your tears, he doesn't attempt to mend your heart, he just sits beside you as it cries out the pain. "It will heal, it will mend itself" he whispers to you as you drift off into the unconscious once again.

It’s the constant knocking at your door that drags you out of the depths of your slumber, pulling you back, the light that streams in as the sun is about to set and you wonder how long you have slept, what time it was and what day it is. Then another knock calls your attention from the window and Daphne steps in “Y/N” she says and her voice is high in surprise as she examines the puffy redness around your eyes. “I was expecting you to be already awake, it is almost time to head to the wedding” she chooses to ignore the wet stains on your silk pillow, choosing to bite her tongue. You choose not to answer her back afraid your voice was raspy and would break, you crawl towards the edge of the bed and swing your legs over as you make your way to the chair that neatly holds your gown for the night, the night that has finally arrived,your last night.

You can see her face change, each one expressing the internal turmoil within her as she questions whether or not to say something. “Just say it Daphne '' you sigh out in a weak smile as you change into the many layers that need to be placed under the gown.

“Ah well” she begins nervously as she fiddles with her loose strings of her apron, she stutters and stumbles over her words but you’ve been taught patience by Jisung as he’d do the same.You smile at the memory of him stuttering, blush across his cheeks as he got nervous causing him to stumble over his words more. You loved seeing him so flustered, loved seeing him progressively become so comfortable around you he never stuttered, became so confident and articulate it was as if he became another person but the same dust of pink never faded but the more you think of him the more it pains and your heart swells as it aches. “You see y/n” she finally spits out as if she had been wrestling the words “If this is your last night, would you not want to leave with a loving memory?” she asks nervously. 

“So it seems word has travelled” you let out a small laugh as you turn to her to pull the strings of your gown and as her hands move to tie knots she laughs as well “Nothing gets past me” and her nervousness visibly dissipates. No more words are exchanged as she helps you ready for tonight, no more words are needed as she sees you slip into the depths of your mind, thinking of what your next act is.

As she places the same pearl necklace you wore the day you came here around your neck, clasping it, she finally turns to leave and through the mirror you see her hesitate but she turns back around a smile across her face “It was a pleasure to meet you ma’am” she says with teary eyes “Y/N” you correct her as you rise quickly, wrapping your arms tightly around her and from the corner of your eye you see Jisung standing at the end of the hallway, witnessing the goodbye he run back down stairs. You saw the glossiness of his eyes and though you would love to leave as a happy memory, would he allow it?

You nervously make your way to the drawing room, there he sits in a black suit, his hair neatly styled yet it looks not much different to everyday. He should not look this good but he does because he is the epitome of beauty. He is beauty personified. You let out a deep breath before you step into his line of view, preparing yourself for whatever is to come next. “Jisung” you call softly but he refuses to look up at you, you can hear him sniffle and his breathing is heavy and you almost could trick yourself into believing he loved you the way you loved him. You sit beside him and take his hand in yours, rubbing small soothing circles by the knuckle of his thumb you attempt to speak, “I am leaving” you choke out,the words are stuck in your throat and he rips his hands away from yours, turning completely with his back towards you. You sigh once again, “Let’s me leave with good memory” you beg, voice small and shaky. This was not the y/n Jisung first met, not the y/n he knows now and definitely not the y/n he fell in love with for you were never one to speak so quietly, yet here you are broken. So he puts away his own selfishness to feel sadness, anger or whatever pulsing emotion that runs course throughout his body.

He turns back to you, eyes glossy and a pout on his lips as he raises a long string of black silk. “I cannot tie it” his voice breaks slightly and you can’t help but smile at his cuteness. You take the silk from his hand and wrap it against his neck, slowly weaving it in and out of itself, you form a knot. “Learn this from a book?” he teases and you can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes. Falling back to where you were with Jisung was never hard, falling in love with him all over again was never hard. “my father taught me” you say as you pull the silk slightly causing his head to jolt forward. A smile perks at his lips as he lets out air from his nose as a form of laughter and you don't realise the lack of space between you two until you feel it brush against your skin and you near closer, eyes drawn to his lips. Your breathing stops and your heart sporadically jumps around in your chest, beating louder than ever.

Jisung’s eyes are closed as he waits for your lips to be placed upon his but they never come and his eyes jump open at the sound of Jaemin’s voice, your warmth escaping him. So close and yet so far, his eyes land on you who’s now moved as far as possible from him. “Y/N, do you know how to tie a tie?” he walks in looking down at the balck silk he holds around his neck but he cuts himself off as his eyes rise to find you and Jisung awkwardly sitting beside each other. “Oh am I interrupting?” he asks in a chuckle as he raises an eyebrow and you shoot up onto your feet, making your way towards him “No not at all” you wave your arms as if it would convince Jaemin. You grab onto both ends of the silk strand, repeating the same movements as earlier and looking down at the silk you can practically feel Jaemin’s smile that beams from above. You weave the string in and out of itself and pull tight around his neck causing Jaemin’s head to pull back “OW '' he huffs out in a pout, you pat down his tie and with a smile as gleaming as his was a mere moments ago, you apologise. 

“Oh y/n you know how to tie a tie, thank god” Jeno rushes in with his father soon after him both holding the same black silk around their neck “Does nobody in this house know how to tie a tie” you laugh in disbelief. “Our mother used to do them,” Jeno whispers as your hands make their way up to form the same knot you’ve made twice already. He thanks you silently with a sweet smile, those crescent moons you adore showing up.You move on to their father, tying his tie neatly and much more carefully than the rest. “Thank you for everything, y/n” he bows his head to you and you whisper “It’s nothing” shyly. “It’s been a pleasure having you become a part of our family” he continues and his words are like a stake to your heart, the same aching reappearing as nothing fails to remind you of your departure.

“Thank you for welcoming me bu-t'' you're cut off instantly 

“no buts y/n, you are family” Jeno interrupts and if it was anyone else you don’t think those words would have held such meaning for Jeno is a silent lover, showing his affection through sweet smiles, concerned looks and kind gestures; he was never one for words of affirmation. So you smile, ignoring the tears that prick at your eyes, ignoring the deep breaths that leave Jisung and the solemn sadness on Jaemin’s face.

“We need to go” Jaemin looks down at his pocket watch, as always sensing the tension in the room and ready to dissipate it, he urges everyone out the door and as you’re about to step out, a warmth engulfs you as Jisung catches your hand in his. Turning back you are met with a smile but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes that hold a sense of sadness as they glimmer in the setting sun.

Hours after the sun had sunk into the horizon, the moon well into its reign, music rang through the center of town as everyone gathered to celebrate the new chapter of Jeno’s life. A ceremony so beautiful, you were sure you witnessed true love when Jeno’s eyes set on his bride that walked the altar.

After all the tears, it was finally time for the bubbling of champagne to intoxicate your bloodstream and to allow the music to take control of every swayed movement of your body. Standing under the yellow dimmed lights, Jisung glew a gold you didn’t know existed but easily was the prettiest you had ever seen. His cheekbones high and lips painted pink, golden flute in hand and silk tie loosened you could easily say he was the prettiest here, outshining all. For Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty lived through him, simple acts such as greeting guests left you stunned. Eyes chasing every movement of his, from the way his hands moved as he spoke, to the way he smiled once seeing an old friend, the way he laughed softly in conversation and when his eyes travelled back to you when he thought you weren't looking.

And to pull you out of that trance was none other than Jaemin, “Would you and Jisung stop exchanging lover eyes and dance already” he whispers as he places himself beside you, you scoff at his words and slightly nudge him with your elbow.

“Are you so bored that your eyes follow mine?” you question and his simple and instant “Yes” make your eyes roll as far as possible but you can’t help but smile. “When will you find your own love story? This is one hopeless”

“So when were you planning to tell me you were leaving after tonight” his words don’t come as a surprise, nothing goes past Jaemin but it still doesn’t fail to make your every movement halt as guilt overtakes you, turning to him you begin to explain “I was going to tell you as soon as the night was over, it was unexpected I promise” you say softly.

“I don’t suppose i can change your mind in any way?” he asks hopefully, still with the knowledge he wouldn’t be able to. You shake your head slowly, unable to say the words that will so obviously ruin the both of you but Jaemin is never one to sit in sadness, always being his priority to make you feel better. 

“Would you allow me this first dance?” he bows down asking for your hand and with that you place yours in his, placing a soft kiss to the knuckles he pulls you into the center of the floor. Legs moving to the beat, Jaemin’s hand on your waist he guides you through the waltz, breaths heaving and smiles plastered on your face he bends down once more to place a kiss on your knuckles as the music dies down declaring the end of the dance, a sad smile spreads across his face and he whispers “Goodbye” against your skin, looking up to meet your eyes who hold nothing but despair. Yet the hardest is to come when you turn and automatically your eyes find Jisungs, who just happened to be looking your way.

You offer him a smile before heading towards him “And why are you not dancing, I’m sure plenty of girls are just about dying to be your first dance” you tease him and he laughs along with you, hands rising they scratch the back of his neck as he prepares to confess to you “I actually do not know how to dance” he spits out fast hoping you don't catch his words but you do. Eyes widening and mouth agape, you let out a gasp 

“Jisung you do not know how to-” you're cut off by his hand on your mouth as he looks around to see if anyone has heard the sentence about to leave you. 

“Quietly, I think the whole of London can hear you” he says in a whisper still looking around. Removing his hand, you roll your eyes at his antics.

“Let me teach you” you whisper back and he turns to you, eyebrow raised as he assesses how good of a dancer you could be.

“I am not entirely sure, who did you learn from? A book?” he teases, still completely in character until you shove him and his laughter comes spilling out “You used the joke once already” you roll your eyes 

“I was taught by trainers actually, do you forget I was to be wed” you scoff at his assumption and rise to your feet, hand extended for Jisung to take. He stares at you, watches the way the light bounces off your skin causing you to glow, your eyes glimmer, smile bright and the confidence and charm you carry in inexplicably attractive as you stand under the moon, offering to be Jisung’s first dance and it’s here he decides you’ll be his last.

The moment his hand is in yours, you drag him straight to the crowd, the music is quick to start and you waste no time in giving out instructions. “Place your hand on my waist” you order

“Your what?” Jisung’s eyes are wide as he cluelessly asks

“My waist” you repeat again, emphasizing each word and you drag his hand up and place it on your waist for yourself. Then putting your own hand on his shoulder, you pull him a little closer. “Just follow my lead” you reassure him as you witness the petrified look on his face.

“Left foot forward” you say to him as you move yours back, “Right foot forward, feet together” you continue to guide him through the dance as you spin around the room, ‘Now left foot back, right foot back, now feet together” you repeat the sequined dance around the room, music thumping through your body and you convince yourself it’s that you feel and not the heavy beats of your heart as the space between you and Jisung seems to close more and more. As he leans in so close you can feel the air that leaves him, fanning over you. You look up and his eyes are set on you, only adoration is held in them and Jisung thinks it’s now or never as he tries to fully close the gap between you two, to place his lips on yours but then you let go, head turning to the right “Now we switch you” you say as you land into another man's arms, repeating the same steps you did with Jisung moments ago with another. So close and yet so far is all Jisung can think whilst his eyes watch you twirl about the room.

Once finally back in his arms, the music seizes and he’s forced to remove himself from you. You can’t help but smile at him as he looks down at you, breathing heavily with a flush of pink to his cheeks yet he seems to be gleaming in the buzzing sensation of a waltz. The air is heavy with sweat and alcohol, the room is filled with chatter and loud laughs but that all falls away once you look at Jisung. So you dance to every song as if you were the only two people to exist, for this was your last night and this was your last dance.

Endless glasses of champagne later your dancing feet carry you outside, the cool summer nights air washes over you, clearing your mind of the foggy mist of alcohol yet the coolness of the moonlight is overwhelmed by the warmth of Jisung’s presence as he stumbles next to you, tripping over his own legs he lands in your arms. “I think you drank a little too much” you laugh down at him.

“No I am perfectly fine” He quickly stabilizes himself, straightening out his clothes and you can only smile as he shakes off your support. “If you say so” you turn to the night sky, looking up to the moon who you haven't had the courage to face since. The wind rushing past you, crickets croaking and the stars blazing across the sky, your legs about to give way as the alcohol circulates your body, you find purchase on a stone bridge, Jisung following soon after you. The water trickles down under you, the calming sound washes over you and the solace you so missed seems to make an appearance once again as you allow yourself to surrender to Jisung’s presence. Silence sits between the two of you but it’s not the one you wish to fill, insead you choose to let it engulf you not wanting words to taint this moment. Your last moment.

Jisung however doesn’t think he can hold it in anymore, the liquid courage is just about enough for him to declare his roaring love for you, a flame that won’t go out no matter how far he pushes the idea of you away. He wasn’t sure if this was love but the ache in his chest all these days proved it could be nothing but love. The longing to be by your side as you found happiness, found your own way into this world and to watch you become who you want, is unbearably strong. This is his only chance before the goddess of the moon takes you away with her, for when the sun rises, you'll set into nothing but a memory. So here Jisung turns to you, staring at your beautifully carved features, moonlight highlighting every perfection; deep breaths he calms his nerves. Adrenaline rushing through every nerve, he finally builds the courage and out the words he never knew would feel so good to pronounce “Y/N I love you” it comes out in a whisper but by the way your eyes widen, breathing halts, Jisung knows you’ve heard.

“Jisung you are drunk” you laugh off

“Drunk lies are sober truths” he says in all seriousness, his eyes are begging for yours to turn to him and so you give in to their silent cry. “I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, for I thought soulmates were nothing but a fairytale until mine spoke to me upon laying eyes on you. I denied my feelings towards you, for I didn’t know if it was love I felt for you or not but I do. Love, adoration, affection and warmth. The moon only looks beautiful with you under it, the sun only shines with you beside me.” he professes and the sincerity in his voice strucks you, for every fiber of your being longs for these exact words but can you believe him?

He inches closer, his scent and warmth trapping you in a trance and you can’t find it in yourself to back away as he moves towards your lips, his breath mixing with your own, the flush off his cheeks that are illuminated by the moonlight. Everything is perfect except he’s drunk. Though your heart screams for you to close the gap, place your lips on his and kiss him until he’s breathless, your head scream the opposite, move back, wait till the morning when his head is in the right place, don’t allow him to make a mistake that’ll hurt you and when were you ever one to not listen to your mind. “You are drunk”  you whisper to him, so close he can almost feel your lips move against his, flinching back, ignoring the cry of your heart that desires nothing more than to feel Jisung’s confession. Jisung’s eyes open to find you pulled away, for once again he was so close yet so far.

“We should return” you jump up, step fastening back to the crowds of people who were still dancing and laughing. Jisung’s hurried footsteps rush beside you, his hand holding onto your wrist, he pulls you into him. Arms wrapping around you so tight, he’s afraid you’ll pull away and that he’ll lose you. You already pulled away from him once, you’re not sure you have the power in you to do it a second; so you let him hold you. His face hidden into the crook of your neck, he speaks into your skin 

“Love for you fades the exhausting hours till Kingdom come, for even then my soul only speaks of you, my heart only beats for you. Let me love and let me give, for both are infinite” he confesses once again.

Your arms instantly wrap around his figure, you allow your love to course through your body to his, you hope he can feel your heartbeat, the steady pace that keeps you alive for his existence, and him only. For without him what was the purpose of living? You stand there under the moonlight, red strings wrapped around you, Eros’s arrow shot through you, and hold onto each other.

Walking back, hand in hand, smiling like fools. The air smells sweeter, the world seems brighter as your heart skips a beat every now and then “In all honesty” Jisung breaks the blissful silence, his voice deep and smooth and it sends shivers down and through you just as it did the first day. Once your eyes are on him, giving him your undivided attention he continues “I lacked the courage to gift you Sonnet 23 but I wanted to” he tells you “Promise” he makes sure you believe his words and you can’t help but smile.

“You still lack courage, this is the alcohol’s courage” you tease him, swinging your arms back and forth as you walk on. He giggles at your comment because he knows it’s true, if it wasn’t for the liquid courage he doesn’t think he would have been able to confess to you but he’s glad he has because if he hadn’t, would he ever get the chance to?

“So will you stay?” he asks, voice hopeful and eyes pleading as he pouts, in hope it would convince you but you didn’t need anymore convincing, for if you want to follow happiness and happiness just so happens to follow Jisung, who were you to seek for more elsewhere. “Perhaps” a smirk makes it way up your lips as you give him vague answers. “I will take that as a yes” he laughs out, holding onto your hand a little bit tighter, to ensure you really weren’t going anywhere.

Love is a complex feeling, one that causes an unbearable amount of pain; as if your chest had been slit open, heart pulled out and crushed. An aching pain resonates throughout your whole body, endless tears and you don’t think you can live to see another sunrise yet it’s euphoric in every way. From the tingling sensation at just the sight of your love, the shivers, the heat that takes over, the trance you left in as their words hypnotise you, the warmth of their presence and sweet scent. In Jisung you found peace,solace,serenity and love.

“Jaemin” Jisung calls out as he can just about make him out in the distance “Y/N said she has decided to stay” he shouts out like a child, excited he’s jumping up and down and you find yourself smiling and laughing again, for with Jisung it’s the only thing you seem to be able to do. Yet as you draw closer to Jaemin and the guests he happens to be wishing a farewell too, your smile and heart both drop.

“Y/N” one of the two men calls out as your figure becomes more apparent to them, disbelief held in their voice as they call out to you. Jisung and Jaemin eyebrows shot up in shock, eyes widening as they wonder how you are acquainted.

“How do you know our y/n?” Jaemin asks, always being the first one to dissolve the awkward silences, the men are taken aback clearly by the way their jaws hang slightly.

“She is our sister” the taller stutters out, your blood rushes cold as the words leave his lips, what would happen now? Would they allow you to just roam free? You thought for a second before you mentally scolded yourself, they would never allow that. They will force you back. “I am not returning” you spit out, not beating around the bush, you get straight to the point.

“But you must, mother is left worried" he tries to grab onto your wrist but you move back not allowing him to get a hold on you.

"Worried for me? Or that the season is almost finished?" You question him and guilt is evident in his eyes as your question takes him aback.

"Don't be silly" your younger brother tries to calm you, "we just want you home" he tries to convince you.

"I am perfectly fine on my own" you stand your ground even though you see the frustration in your older brother, creep closer and closer to the surface "I have no intention of returning" you continue to press forward.

"Do you not feel shame, what would father have to say?" He dares ask. Shame? The word linger in your head for you to wonder if your brother truly knows the definition of the word or were all those years at Oxford a waste. For how had this brought shame upon you or your father, how does a want for purpose,happiness and freedom lead to shame?

"For if father was alive, this problem wouldn't have occurred. He would have listened" you hissed, jaw tight as you teeth clenched and the words slipped out through the small cracks.

"How naive of you to think'' he laughs and finally latches onto your wrist, holding tightly he's prepared to drag you to the carriage until another holds you back. Jisung’s hand holds onto your arm, pulling you back, looking back you don’t think you have never seen such fierce eyes. A red you never thought you’d see engulf Jisung, he’s not prepared to let you go. "Let go" your brother's voice is stern as he clenches his jaw yet Jisung doesn't budge.

"Jisung this isn't our place" Jaemin whispers, defeat in his voice and he is right. What say do they have in this? If you don’t even have a choice, who are they to decide but then again you are certain a man’s opinion will most definitely be heard by your brother over your own anyday. “Let go of her,” Jisung threatened.

Your brother couldn’t help but scoff at his words “She belongs to me, I am her blood and she holds mine and my father’s name” his grip tightening around your wrist as he pulls you towards him once more, your eyebrows furrow and you wince in slight pain, Jaemin instinctively flinches forward before stopping himself, getting involved will just make it worse he reminds himself. You smile at him weakly in hopes it can put him at ease but as both your arms are being held hostage, both cuffs tightening as the seconds go by not one daring to back down.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone” Jisung spits back “She is free to do as she pleases and she chooses to stay here” he continuously argues in hope of changing his mind , yet what can he possibly do? Now that they have found you, what is left for you to do? They will not let you live on how you wish, they will not leave without you and even if they didn’t take you tonight, they will come back for you. It’ll only cause chaos, you will again become a burden on someone else. “You do not own her” he repeats.

The words you so despise form on your tongue and as you open your mouth to say them, Jisung’s eye beg you not to. He knows what's to come and even as every ounce of your being screams and cries as the words are spoken, you let them leave you regardless. “Let go Jisung” voice weak, shaking.

“But you said you would stay” his voice shaky, encased in sadness, his grip weakens but his hold stays, unable to let you go once he’s finally got you but you were always a dream to him, one that never seemed quite real and though you mixed with reality, almost coming true, he was but a fool to believe you could be his.

“I said maybe” your voice quiet, breaking a promise you didn’t make, breaking his heart and breaking yours that was just put back together.

“She said for you to let go” Your brother interrupts, a smirk on his face that Jaemin has a dying need to punch off but he retains himself. Jisung lets go of you hesitantly, his hand still lingering onto the skin of your forearm and you take in his touch one last time. He watches you leave, tears falling from his eyes for you were so close yet so far.

The tears from that night, months ago, have yet still to dry for every living and breathing moment is lived in agony, longing turning into nothing but numbness as it engulfed your being and became you. Days and nights merged, smiles are a forgotten act for it felt awkward even attempting. The large manor is silent, it perfectly resembles the void in your chest. You live as a ghost, sleepless nights and empty days your mind always occupied with the thought of Jisung.

His eyes that held the universe, his warmth the sun envied, his smile were solace was found, his laughter that was contagious, voice that was soothing, beauty unmatched, the gods were both proud and envious of their greatest creation. The years went by and yet the image of his is as clear as ever, preserved in your memories, you live on in your dreams that can’t escape reality. So close and yet so far from each other.

You sit in the empty rooms, walls bare for the art never compared to Jisung’s beauty, you never found art that could express the definition of art as well as Jisung did. Each time looking at Jisung you found a new feature to adore, hidden beauties that appeared when the moonlight hit his skin, features highlighted by the golden rays of the sun. No art seemed to do that, no art seemed worthy of showcasing.

Your library remains empty, clearing it out of all books, you couldn't bear to look at one again. For everyone of them taunted you with the memory of him. The way he used to sit in the center of the room, arms sprawled out on the desk, his head so close to the paper as he would write. Your eyes would follow every one of his movements, so distracted you would forget about the heavy book in your hand. Yet now with a book in hand, your eyes search for distraction. Yearning to find him, to make the pink blush, that you so missed, appear as he couldn't take your stare any longer. The adrenaline of when his eyes suddenly come up to meet yours, the scrambling of his when you catched his stare. You missed it all.

“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day” the performer begins, as you sit around the large table for dinner. Your every movement halts as the words leave his mouth, your mind runs back to the lavender fields, into the small room at the back of the house, finding the scarlet red book. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate” he continues on but no you are not temperate. Your heart aches, your eyes sting and a wave of nausea over takes you. Your fist smash into the table, legs standing up, you push the heavy velvet chair back

“Stop!” you shout, voice hoarse and broken, you can’t help the tears that roll down your cheek. You can’t help the way your whole body shakes upon hearing those words, you can’t help but miss him. The whole room stares at you, a heavy silence settles, the only sounds are your whimpers as you sob in your palms, falling to your knees. Their eyes lingered, terrified. No one dared to speak to you first, let alone the events of the night. Afraid they would cause you to break down once more but they failed to see it was they, who stole happiness away from you, stole freedom and ripped your heart out of your chest. You wandered aimlessly through the many halls, staring out of windows you wanted the sun rise and fall, watched the goddess of the moon shine down on the earth yet neither held the beauty they did when Jisung was by your side.

Summer has come to find you once again, those who say time heals have never been broken. Time doesn’t heal. Time forgets, the world may move on but you do not, you cannot share the same ecstasy the birds sing, the happiness in summer flowers, For now you hate flowers, you hate how their beauty and meaning are only reminders of your longing.

“How about lavenders for the drawing room ma’am, I’m told they are your favourite” the maid asks, her mission to make you smile, to rid you of the constant tear stained cheeks; nothing but a failure is awaiting her. Just the mere thought of lavenders causes your skin to crawl, for nothing symbolises him more than the vibrant violet. Yet you turn to her, a weak smile and you nod because maybe the scent will help ease your heart and just maybe you’ll find serenity in them once more.

Though days were long, summer left in a hurry for now autumn was here once more. The leaves had already begun to brown and the vase filled with lavenders, which sat upon the grand piano, had wilted now - their scent and comfort decaying with them.

And soon followed the day, the world knew would soon be coming, had arrived upon us, September 1st 1939:

“we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.” you read Winston Churchill’s words in the papers, war has arrived. The heavy ring sits on your finger as you stare out the window reminiscing the day you were watching the carriage be prepared and though it is your two brothers and the Earl’s son leaving you can’t help but let your mind imagine Jeno,Jaemin and Jisung, For the war will take them further away from you, to barren land filled with death, guns pointed at them, bombs dropping at anytime. Though the war has imprisoned many,taken from others, you thank it’s timing for it has liberated you momentarily. The Earl’s son waved goodbye to you and though you raise your hand to send him off to a war you’re not sure he’ll return from, you have no intention of calling him your fiance whilst he is gone and if he returns you have no intention of calling him your husband. You pity him in that memory.

“Ma’am” a voice calls out to you, you don’t recognise who it is for every voice sounds the same but regardless it pulls you back to the world of the present for the war was already well into its sixth year. Though your body is here, your heart and soul never left Jisung for he had stolen that long ago. You turn to find a small envelope, blue like the ones that found you happiness. “To y/n'' the handwriting is familiar but to you all letters were painted the way Jisung’s hand did, for your eyes can simply not forget but it is what the letter contained that brought a soul into your lifeless shell.

As an unperfect actor on the stage

Who with his fear is put beside his part,

Sonnet 23 with annotations is what your eyes fall upon, the second line underlined it reads: “With great courage I put aside this fear to confess to you such words that I cannot express on my own.” Your hand runs over the lines, the smell of gunpowder but there is a scent that you so long for. The scent of lavender still lingers onto the parchment which ripples under your clutch. .

Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,

Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart;

The next lines highlighted “For this feeling was just as strong as rage yet it was where I found peace, my heart weakened at the sight of you and from that moment onwards it belonged to you.” A smile naturally took over you, the flutter in your chest an ecstatic feeling you forgot.

So I for fear of trust forget to say

The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,

And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,

O’ercharged with burden of mine own love’s might.

O, let my books be then the eloquence

And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,

Who plead for love and look for recompense

More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.

O, learn to read what silent love hath writ.

To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.

“Know that I cannot express the words my soul speaks, for we are worlds apart so allow the empty words of the English language, attempt to convey my love. Look not at my words only but at the way the fool I make in your presence for my mind is clouded with you, heart beats for you and soul yearns for you. For you are my sonnet 18 as a friend and sonnet 23 as a lover.” Tears fall unnoticed, for you hear his voice so clear in your head, for six years you waited for a single word from him and here he has gifted you a sonnet between lovers, so how could you possibly love someone else.

“Yours forever Jisung, the boy who waits in the lavender field”. You sob as you read those words, a fresh new wave of tears staining the parchment as the longing to be in his warmth and comfort is washed upon you as if it were that day you were forced away from him. Opening a wound that never could fully heal.

Waiting is a virtue of love, it proves your love, for it feels equivalent to death and yet you still wait but there is a point in time where you can wait no longer, where you must stop waiting and strive for love now. At this exact moment, it is time. For you are ready to give up the world to run to Jisung, to find the beauty in the moon once more, to find solace in the sweet smell of lavenders once more, to find the warmth of the sun once more, to find happiness once more. For happiness was the only reason worth living.

You're not sure how long you’ve been running, legs moving on their own, you don’t look back you’ve learnt never to look back, never return. As the metallic taste at the back of your throat rises, oxygen running thin and your legs almost collapse from exhaustion. It’s as if you jumped out of the past, gown torn at the train station, you’re left in rags but it’s different this time. For before you ran to find your happiness and now you run to where happiness lies. In a field of lavenders.

Every fiber of your being pulses with the need to see him, hear him, touch him. To feel his warmth once more, to have his voice send serenity through you, to see his eyes again and to smell the sweet scent that lingers around him. You’re not sure what souls are made of but whatever it is yours and his are the same. For your heart yearns for him, desperate, it aches every living second of everyday without him. For a life without love, is a life unlived.

The rows and rows of purple are in sight and there in the middle of it all stands him, waiting. Jisung doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, he can tell by your footsteps, your breath, your scent and the sudden ease he feels. You are there. Yet he does anyways for the memory of you has haunted him for the past 6 years, on the battlefield, in the barracks, he would only see you, only hear you but he couldn’t touch you; for you were merely a dream mixing with reality.

But here you are standing in front of him, Your expensive dress torn up, now rags that wrapped around you with the bottom half missing. He smiles as nostalgia washes over him, was this real or were you just a fragmented memory. Was he simply remembering happier times, a time where you were in his grasp. “Jisung” you call out, voice soft and unsure, a hand reaching out for his own, to make sure what you saw in front of you wasn’t a hallucination, a cruel trick your mind played on you. Slowly a warmth overtook your hand, sparks sent through your skin and into your bloodstream and the beating of your heart returned. Tears formed but never fell because one of you needs to be strong, Jisung sobbed as he fell into your embrace, gripping onto you. “Never leave again” he chokes out, breathing heavy and uneven. “Promise me” he whispers into your hair.

Pulling him back to face you, his eyes are red and puffy yet they burn with passion, his cheeks stained with tears but the pink dust is always still there, you smile at him closing the gap and finally placing your lips on his. The taste of salty tears invade your mouth and your lips move against his and he kisses you back, placing his hand on your cheek he pulls you closer, thumb brushing over the top of your cheekbone. Your knees weaken and you grip at his shirt, desperately clinging to him as your knuckles turn white, as he kisses you with passion overflowing with each soft movement, sincere and full of the love he can't express through words. The scent of lavender is overwhelming and intoxicating, you press yourself against him. Your lungs burn as he kisses you breathless, sparks flying into your bloodstream and unbearable heat takes over whilst your lips move as one. Pulling away, chests heaving as you pull in as you regain all the oxygen you exchange, Jisung places his forehead on yours, his cheeks pink and in between breaths you whisper against his lips “I promise” and again he pulls you in, lips crashing on yours.

This is your first love, it may not be your last but it will be the one you remember most, for it taught you how to love, it taught you the struggles of love and it taught you to feel loved. In search of fulfillment and meaning, you weren't looking for love but it found you and soon after fulfillment and meaning came in the form of a boy in a lavender field.

© (jisungiest) 2021. All Rights Reserved.

#neowritingsnet #neothestars #nctcreations #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct 2020 #nct fics #nct au #nct fulff #nct angst #park jisung #jisung #nct jisung #jisung fluff #jisung fic #nct jisung fic #jisung angst #jisung x reader #jisung x y/n #jisung x you #nct x reader #lavender fields #loml jisung #happy birthday jisung #park jisung fic

[yanderenightmare]

You made me fall in love with fear, it's all just fascinating. The way you write is an aesthetic in itself! It's so beautiful and thought-provoking. If your requests are open, I would love to see your volume one Yanderes with a clumsy s/o. Like, she is accident prone, always injuring herself, etc. I wonder how they would react with such fragility? Thanks! Have a wonderful day! :D

yandere ! BNHA headcannons

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dumbification, abuse, manipulation, ableism, anxiety, death, murder, drugs, drugging, kidnapping

BAKUGO KATSUKI - KACHAN

He knew fragile things existed in the world.

And he knows that the world was designed to chew such powerless things up then spit them out again.

And he knows he isn’t one of those frail things.

As a child he thought it was fair for the strong to conquer the weak.

And hell… he still thinks it’s fair.

Her brittle nature provides him with such a great excuse too, such a perfect explanation for him to justify taking her.

To justify keeping her in soft frilly clothes, locked inside a room devoid of walls where they have been replaced by cushions and pillows and blankets and furs and stuffed-animals and all things soft, soft, soft against the bruises and scrapes on her knees and ankles and elbows and chin. Keeping her all cozy and clumsy where she’s unable to keep her footing on the plushie asylum floor, reduced to vertigo, especially with that fluffy pink ankle-cuff chaining her down.

Sometimes she’ll hide when hearing Bakugo’s footsteps coming thundering from behind her door. She’ll wrap herself up in all those soft things she’s grown to hate, pray under the covers only to hear the cracking predatory humor of Bakugo’s laugh once he spots where the chain trails to.

He'll drag her out of hiding like a puppy on a leash, all for him to punish, all with that splitting frenzied grin on his face, the one that makes her head dizzy on the sight of seeing how sharp those canines of his are, knowing how they’re going to find her neck as though she’s some chew-toy.

He’ll always make it sound as though that’s what she wanted, that punishment is what her weakness begged him for, as though weakness is synonymous with wanting pain or needing pain.

He’ll sleep there with her most of the time, in the room he’s made so painstakingly clear was her home. She’s coming more and more gradually to the understanding that nothing in reality is hers anymore. Not the room, not the clothes, not her body.

She’s too weak to be allowed to be in charge of anything, better for her to just find comfort in knowing how she has no responsibilities, better for her to just be grateful Bakugo wanted her as his pet rather than his prey. Better for her to listen and believe him when he tells her that she’s safe, instead of thinking of all those crippling reasons as to why she is far from being safe.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Clumsy prey is a sport Shoto always believed to be too mediocre and boring, given how easily the dexterity of the predator can win the chase.

He didn't think he could achieve stimulation without a challenge.

But, he’s now finding that chasing someone who’s barely able to keep her own footing is a game he rather enjoys quite salaciously. Understanding now that it’s less about the quest, less about actually catching his prize, and more about the experience, those funny little moments leading up to it.

The amount of hungry pleasure he derives from seeing her stagger away from him is bottomless.

He doesn’t know why, but it’s the outmost endearing and lovable and precious and cute thing he can think of.

Seeing her stumble and fall, all in the product of mixing her clumsiness with her wild manic fear. Watching those beautiful swivel-eyes spiral as she looks up at him through the thick darkness of the poorly lit hallways, hearing nothing but Shoto’s inhumanly sadistic snickering and her own heavy panting as she tries desperately to drag herself further away. Yet, knowing and awaiting his massive biting cold hand to grip around her ankle to drag her across the marble-floor back into her dungeon, back into the soft bed, so that they can do everything again.

Most chases end up with her hurting herself and eventually aiding her own capture.

She’ll always wake up with bruises she has no recollection of when or how she got, yet looking at them she can tell that they’re way too mellow to be something given to her by Shoto.

It's funny, where he hurts her, he actually ends up saving her more times than most. Where her sporadic escape has almost led her to go tumbling down the stairwell, where were it not for Shoto catching her in her fall, things could have gotten really ugly.

He wouldn’t want her to actually break her legs after all, no matter how many times he might tease and threaten her with the thought. Broken legs would mean no more games, and Shoto doesn’t want that to end any time soon.

But, there are softer aspects to her silliness too.

She can be just as dopey and awkward with her rambling thoughts as him, where her inelegance with her mobility seeps into her skillfulness with words too.

If she’s proper blissed-out she can talk up storms of complete and utter nonsense, rambling on about her dreams and what animal the shape of Shoto’s scars resemble and how pretty his eyes are and how much her body is tingling in the aftershocks of what fun Shoto exercised on her skin.

MIDORIYA IZUKU - DEKU

Naivety really is bliss, isn’t it?

Not just for herself, but for him too.

To watch her, in all her clumsy glory, fall on her face, time and time again, never learning her lesson.

That’s the definition of insanity, you know?

Doing the same thing over and over again expecting things to go differently.

But, no matter how many times she tries to escape, no matter how many times she runs, or screams or cries or swears she hates him until her lungs burn, she’ll always end up right where she started off, right where she belongs, right in his arms, under his thumb, under him.

He doesn’t even have to put any effort in to prevent it.

He just needs to sit back and enjoy the show as she fails so spectacularly all by her very own, then pick her up off the floor and coo and hush and shush and tsk at her to calm down or else she might end up hurting herself all over again.

How has such fickle featherbrained maladroit messes managed to survive? How hasn’t evolution wiped them from existence yet?

Perhaps because other more evolved creatures found them to be such a perfect source for blowing off steam. Entertainment is important after all. Small little escapes through the day where you can forget what nasty troubles you’ll eventually have to deal with and simply just play with your silly little pet.

He saves the world every now and again, the world can allow him this much, to have his very own swivel-eyed toy. He deserves it. 

Besides, she needs him. If he hadn’t stepped in and helped her, saved her from her own mistakes, evolution would have done its job and she’d be dead already.

But, he doesn’t expect her bumbling brainless little head to understand that, she’d just get a headache from thinking about it too hard.

No, better for her to focus on other things… like how to entertain him before he decides to show her just how small a foolish little thing she is.

He’ll often play with her, make her turn all shades of hopeless because she’s too forgetful and too soft-natured to comprehend what’s happened.

He’ll give her things, small little trinkets as presents for her good behavior, mostly accessories such as hair-bows, necklaces, anything he can easily slip off her without her noticing, then pretend to be disappointed, scolding her as though she’s some child who’s unable to take care of her things, punish her and kiss her on that scared foolish little face as she splutters out her apologies, having not a single clue she’s right where he wants her, completely clueless to the fact that she’s perfect in every which way imaginable.

DABI - TODOROKI TOUYA

It feels so unexplainably good to hold something infinitely helpless and vulnerable and dainty in his destructive hands without it shattering like glass.

It feels so insurmountably meaningful and purposeful and godsend to save someone for once, even if it’s from themselves.

It’s nice being in the presence of true chaos, the true absence of order, a great real heap of a total clusterfuck. It makes him believe that even life requires a little death to scare them into safety, that even light requires darkness, that even love needs darkness, that even love desires darkness.

He used to think small things such as her were made up of cotton and all things soft like dandelion-fluff, but now he knows they’re made of breakable brittle things such as autumn-leaves, in desperate need of being wrapped up, suffocated, drowned in safety. He’s the one who needs to be soft like cotton, he’s the one who needs to be gentle and soft so she not crumble like the sweet pastry she is.

It’s cute. She’s cute. Unbelievably so too sometimes.

He feels like half the time he spends with her he’s teaching her how to walk properly, catching her when she falls or helping her up from the ground, dusting her off, wiping tears away from her face, patching up small scrapes and gashes, kissing her forehead, letting her know how it’s all okay, making sure she knows she’s no such thing as a burden, though not letting her in on the fact that he loves seeing her fail only for him to save the day.

He’ll take her outside more because of her ditzy nature, knowing how she’s far too dopey to ever manage an escape without pulling out a near miss unintentional suicide attempt, where which after a number of rescues from him she forgets why she was even running in the first place, now too caught up with being close to him instead, with feeling safe, feeling protected.

He’ll save her from wandering off into traffic, protect her when she says the wrong idiotic thing to the wrong batch of people, fight for her when her cuteness lures and pulls and ensnares other predators.

It’s symbiosis, if he thinks about it, if he tries justifying it.

She needs him and he needs to feel needed. She needs to be taken care of, he wants to take care of her, she needs protection from herself, he wants her dependence, he wants the safety of knowing how she cannot survive without him.

SHIGARAKI TOMURA

It’s hilarious.

She’ll break her own legs for him at this rate.

He wonders how many braincells could possibly be left in that thick skull of hers, with how much she trips and walks into walls and rolls out of bed, bumping her head on every possible thing, he can’t count how many times she’s head-butted him, whether it’s been on purpose or not. 

He wonders if she might just be blind.

If maybe she needs glasses…

Well… that’s too bad if that’s the case, no chance he’s giving up watching her agonize over every misstep that leads to her falling on the floor by his feet, her head tipping to look up at him with that ridiculous expression, that dumbfounded adorable confusion.

It probably doesn’t help that he keeps the room so dark.

It probably doesn’t help that he leaves things on the floor in hopes of her foot catching on them.

But, can you blame him for wanting to see her all cute and flushed? Watching her frustrate over herself, too caught up in being mad with her own inadequacy to bother being mad at him. So preciously hopeless as she tries to pick herself up off the floor, her hair always in a mess and bruises and scrapes littering her otherwise soft skin.

Pretty and stupid isn’t usually the type he fawns over, in fact: pretty and stupid is usually the type that disgust him, pretty stupid bitches that never spare him a second glance, pretty stupid bitches that are only worth one fuck before he dusts them.

But pretty stupid and sweet? 

That’s the perfect cocktail.

So stupid and sweet she doesn’t even know how pretty she is. So stupid and sweet that she’s surprised he gave her a second glance.

He wonders if he as well would be this careless and reckless if he hadn’t been gifted with that destructive quirk of his.

He wonders if she had been born with a heart made less up of honeycombs and more daggers like his, if she would also second-guess touching things as opposed to making it her mission to bump into every single thing in her path.

If she would be less trusting and more cynical like him.

He’s grateful she wasn’t.

He’s grateful that the only type of death she’ll ever get the chance to taste is him, that as far as she’s concerned… he is death.

TAKAMI KEIGO - HAWKS

Most of the time it’s cute.

Most of the time he loves watching her fall prey to her own absentmindedness. Watch her trip on nothing but her own poor footing.

After all, he does love catching her before she hits the ground. He loves being her hero, seeing that shocked expression on her face, that cute blush of embarrassment as he smirks down upon her jumpy skittish person.

Then of course there’s the less salvageable moments, yet still no less cute, where she’ll drop dinner plates or her glass or the wine bottle or the remote-controller, where she’ll get so frustrated with herself and her stubby fingers, her feet always needing bandaging where she always manages to step in her own mess of glass-shards.

Those times where she fucks up and fears Keigo’s temperance so much she’ll turn into a timid little ball of apologies and gratitude, where she’ll fear that any more screw ups will cost her his understanding attitude and awake something livid inside him.

She’ll be so sweet with fear as opposed to when she’ll jerk away from his touch.

So yeah, most of the time it’s cute, most of the time it’s beneficial.

But that habit she has of not thinking before speaking or acting gets her into a whole lot of trouble too.

Especially when she pushes him away or calls him something unsavory. When she acts like a brat, forgetting who’s in charge.

Keigo feels the need to teach her a thing or two about being a bit more careful and a little less brainless. 

He’ll pose her in the middle of the living room, with only red lace adorning her tiny frame, looking cold but not so much to be the reason to her shivers, he knows better as he can smell the fear laced in the air.

On top of her head he’ll put a perfect plump red apple and tell her to stand as still and picture-perfect as possible.

She’s pretty good at it too, at being still and quiet and pretty, speaking only when spoken to, at least until he starts sending knife-sharp feathers in her directions, creating her silhouette in the wall as the feathers fly just short of nicking her skin, where if she moves only a slight mere inch, the crimson edges will slice open her skin.

And if the apple should fall, well… if she can be sweet and apologize and show him just how sorry she is, he’ll think about making the punishment enjoyable.

SHINSO HITOSHI

Hitoshi can’t manifest how much awe he has for that ditzy nature of hers.

So forgetful, so clueless, so cute.

She’s like a little girl, a child, a baby in a cradle, yet with the ability to get lost, wandering off at every slight distraction.

He’s tempted to put a bell around her neck if only to be alerted off when her curiosity has taken her out of his eyesight. She would look adorable with a little golden jingle bell around her throat, hanging on a velvet choker.

But then again… he wouldn’t have the joy of finding her all tousled and knotted up in her newest little fuck up.

Little Miss Forgetful forgetting all her lessons, all those rules Hitoshi’s taught her, forgetting her manners, forgetting her chores, forgetting how to be his good little girl or else suffer the consequences of being punished and becoming Master’s little puppet on strings.

Little Miss Messy making a total clutter in the kitchen when trying her best to get her hand on a knife, but only managing to bump into everything, shards of glass painting the crime scene with the culprit displayed and trapped all perfectly in the middle of her own mess, all for Hitoshi to come and catch red-handed.

Little Miss Bump with new bruises and scratches as she’s fallen yet again on the floor in the midst of her newest escape attempt.

He could go on all day about his sweet little Miss Silly, his little Miss Scatterbrain, his little Miss Stupid, who’s always getting into trouble, constantly needing Hitoshi to come to her rescue.

But, when he’s not home, he can get anxious.

Scared that she might actually hurt herself just a bit too much and he’ll arrive just a bit too late.

It should take a lifetime to die, yet she’s on the verge of death nearly every day, it only takes an instant and it’s over.

He’ll check in on her at home more times than he probably should throughout the day, praying before he unlocks the door and steps inside the quiet stillness of their house, picturing her having cracked her skull open when slipping or accidently managing to hang herself off of something or drowning in the tub after having fallen asleep, there’s no end to what horrors he can picture.

His anxiety only satiated when finding her still asleep on the bed, soft untroubled snores hanging off the walls. 

It makes sense with how much melatonin he slipped in her drink before she dozed off…

Just a little safety measure.

CHISAKI KAI - OVERHAUL

It manages to surprise him each and every time… just how much danger such a little thing is able to wrap herself up in.

It’s as though she chases the trouble, as though she wants the punishment that follows.

He doubts she ever really thinks anything thoroughly through.

She’s reckless, ruthless in her disregard for safety. Hare-brained and untrustworthy and in desperate need of his protection and his correction, or else she might just accidentally kill herself one day or worse… end up in the wrong set of hands.

It’s come to the point where he’s stopped gifting her with jewelry, because he gets so hysterically uneasy whenever she’s gotten her hands on anything sharp.

Before he’d get angry when she threatened him, wrathful, raging because she doesn’t listen, her foolish little brain unable to follow the simplest of directions. 

Now though, he gets scared because she’s unable to understand what’s best for her, because the only thing she'll ever manage to hurt with those sharp trinkets is herself.

And if she hurts herself, if she risks getting bacteria in her bloodstream, infections in her wounds, scarring and marring that beautiful body, he’ll have no choice, he’ll see no other option but to make sure she can never manage such a thing ever again.

He often humors the idea of simply tying her to the bed and feeding her with a silver spoon, only liquids so she not choke when she forgets how to chew properly.

He’ll act as though she’s a nuisance, but it will be a lie most of the time, while actually finding an inane amount of reassurance and relief in her whimsy, in her gracelessness. Where yes, she is a danger, but she’s far from deadly.

And besides, it’s nice getting a little break from all formalities, someone he can finally be a little rough around the edges with, someone he can let himself enjoy soft pleasures with, someone he can smile or even laugh with when the occasion calls for it. 

Sometimes he’ll place her in high-heels, only to watch her stumble around awkwardly like a little deer skating on ice.

She’s so determined too, determined to prove she isn’t a klutz, how she too can be elegant enough for a dance fit for the ballroom.

He’ll humor that fantasy, but she’ll always throw her heels off in favor of standing on top of his surgically white sneakers and letting herself get floated and swayed with how swiftly and precisely Kai has the established proper poise to enact.

He’ll smile then, when those flirty bubbling giggles erupt from her as she holds onto him, telling how him wonderful flying feels like.

TIP-JAR

#yandere izuku #yandere bakugo katsuki #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere chisaki #yandere dabi #yandere bakugo #yandere deku #yandere #yandere katsuki #yandere todoroki #yandere tomura #yandere takami keigo #yandere shigaraki #yandere shoto todoroki #yandere shinso hitoshi #yandere shinsou #yandere shouto #yandere bnha #yandere kai chisaki #yandere keigo takami #yandere keigo #yandere hitoshi #yandere hawks #yandere hitoshi shinso #yandere chisaki kai #yandere midoriya #yandere mha #yandere midoriya izuku #yandere my hero academia #yandere izuku midoriya

[bbq-hawks-wings]

Chapter 299: Despite everything, it’s still you.

Omg, there’s so much to talk about. We go so many answers this week and there's so, SO much to talk about. Ok, let’s just jump in!!!

Let’s go ahead and start from the beginning and work our way forward from there, starting with his parents.

Us: Horikoshi, can we have super cool Thief Takami?!

Horikoshi: We have Hawks’ dad at home.

Hawks’ dad at home:

Played like a fiddle, and I think we knew it was going to happen, too. LOL I will only give Horikoshi the one criticism that relying on vague details like “thief and murderer” next to Compress‘ reveal was an unintentional red herring for a lot of us, and the name “Takami” which came from his father clearly mattered, but not in any way that we expected. He was just some paranoid, two-bit wannabe thug.

So paranoid that he never let Keigo leave the dilapidated house where even the unnecessarily mean barbed wire fence was deteriorating, possibly making him go barefoot at all time to discourage him from leaving but definitely neglecting him and his needs for clean clothes that fit and a home that isn't filthy as he occupied the only space he allowed him to exist in while he sent his mother off to do his bidding.

In other words @sleepwalkersqueen's Shinyo is an infinitely superior. We're keeping him. Sometimes fanon is better.

No, it turns out the person that molded his worldview most and impacted the way he viewed himself was his mother. It was even her quirk - a disembodied sense that could watch from far away - that transformed his father's otherwise feeble, rigid feathers into the fantastic, one-of-a-kind quirk he has.

Hawks was not an accident. He was a band-aid baby she had to try to get Takami to stay with her because she didn't know how to live without him. She doesn't come to her baby's defense like Rei did for her children. When the father of her child beats and screams at him, she doesn't even turn to face the scene - it's only when he expresses dissatisfaction with her and his life in that house does she respond, and even then it's with,

"Don't leave, ok?"

Not once.

But twice in as many minutes.

It's why when she panics and realizes that having Keigo didn't work to keep him there with her, and not only that she's on the run for staying with him with a ball and chain now also around her ankle she asks:

"Why were you even born? Why do you even have those wings? You aren't useful or any good for me or anyone else. You're a waste of space."

Tomie was a woman who placed her worth in the validation of a man happy to use her for the value she could add to his criminal enterprises and nothing more - a woman frail of heart and mind who asks her small son what to do instead of assuming responsibility.

She doesn't have the strength of will to accept that she had a role in her own fate and especially the fate of the son she brought into the world.

But that doesn't mean she doesn't love him.

Hawks remembers this moment as his mother indulging him once to shut him up after his father insisted he never so much as leave those four broken walls; but that's not what's happening here at all.

She doesn't say, "Don't tell your father." She says, "Your father doesn't need to know about this."

This is a treat - given to him for no reason than to spoil him a little bit. She doesn't realize he doesn't even register that heroes are real people when she buys him that plushie. He sees just a cartoon character she says is strong, and she's encouraging him to be the same to give him hope and an ideal to strive towards even if it slips later. This moment is for him and him alone.

And when he realizes that heroes are REAL people, who REALLY do make a difference, in ways he may not see but clearly impacts him ANYWAY!?

It's LIFE CHANGING.

Life isn't a bleak dead-end series of disappointments. He can fight back against the hurt the world dishes out and help people, too, so they don't have to suffer like he did. He can be a shining light as bright as the man who brought light into his dark world even from so far away!

It's a shame that he also inherited his mother's sense of self-worth and believes to this day that his worth lies in being useful to others. As long as others suffer in any way, he won't find peace in his existence.

There's more to talk about, but I'm already at the image post limit and have as much to talk about, so I'll post this here and reblog with the continuation, so keep an eye out for it in just a moment!

#bnha hawks #mha hawks #hawks bnha #hawks mha #bnha manga spoilers #let's talk hawks #keigo takami #takami keigo #winged hero hawks #mha meta #bnha meta

[altruistic-meme]

AFTG fic recs

Hi all! I just wanted to share some of my all-time favorite fanfics for aftg, for no real reason other than I want more people to read them and send their love to the authors :) 

Under a readmore because it got. A little long. But please enjoy!

WIPs

Dangerous Habits by LovelyLittleGrim ( @lovelylittlegrim )

Andrew has run into problems while on undercover jobs before. None of those problems were anything like the troublesome runaway that is one Nathaniel Wesninski

Aka: the fic where Andrew is undercover as a hitman for hire and Neil is the guy who hires him. Things get complicated from there.

Undercover Andrew? BAMF Neil? Hitman AU?? Absolutely. I’m in love. The story is just *chef kisses*

Chapters: 8/9

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, past rape/non-con, Drake Spear (who is his own warning), Butcher Neil, 

--

Negotiations by elesary ( @elesary )

This is what Andrew Minyard knows: his brother is dead, killed by a petty Raven prince who has never learned to keep his hands off of Andrew's things. His brother's daughters are his responsibility, a job that is made infinitely harder when their shitty grandparents want custody. Nathaniel Wesninski is a liar, but he might be the only way to avenge Aaron and protect his nieces. All Andrew has to do is watch Nathaniels - Neil's- back as he carves out his own life and identity from everyone who thinks they own him.

Andrew has always been good at upholding his end of the bargain, has he finally found someone willing to uphold theirs?

This fic has got me fucked up, honestly. I’m emotional over it. It’s fantastic.

Chapters: 11/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, attempted sexual assault, Butcher Neil,

--

the upper hand by plantelty ( @plantelty  )

Shortly after losing his mother, Neil arrives in the small town of Palmetto, South Carolina, alone in the world and with an impossible plan to carry through.

At the age of eighteen, Andrew ends up helping a boy stage his own death.

-

Just two fucked up boys learning to trust each other during the course of a summer, but also: multiple references to songs, twinyard angst (Nicky tries his best), The Plotting of Neil Josten's Gruesome Demise, and shit hitting the fan in a variety of ugly ways!

The cliffhanger has got me on the edge of my seat, but it is 100% worth the read and the wait for the last chapter!! 

Chapters: 10/11

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Canon typical violence, 

--

The Butcher’s House by Fire_Bear ( @fire-bear )

Andrew thought something was odd with the house the Foxes had to move into after their Athletes' House had been burnt down. He just wasn't prepared for what was actually wrong with it.

For this was a house full of monsters.

Ghost story! Ghost story! Ghost story! I literally think about this fic every other day, it’s fantastic. 

Chapters: 6/?

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: character death (major or minor is unclear), injuries, 

--

Promise of an Unbroken Boy by elesary ( @elesary​ )

Neil is caught by the police with Mary's burning body and is sent to juvie in Oakland where he is assigned to share a cell with one Andrew Doe, who promises him Exy, if only Neil will tell him all of his secrets. With no access to tinted contacts and hair dye, he agrees, it's only a matter of time until he's killed after all. What does he have to lose?

But Andrew's found someone who knows what a promise means, and he'll be damned if he lets that go without a fight.

Ngl this is definitely in my very top favorites -- I LOVE the idea of Neil and Andrew meeting pre-series, and this fic just BLEW my expectations for that plotline out of the waters

Chapters: 14/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Underage, attempted rape/non-con, canon-typical violence, 

~~~~~~~~~

Complete

The Nameless Monster by kanekicure ( @kanekicure )

Nathaniel Wesninski wants nothing more than to see his father dead and buried. But when his father promises him the title of The Butcher, Nathaniel quickly realizes that his destiny of following in his father's footsteps is closer than ever before.

So of course, when he gets forced to go undercover for the Baltimore police, he starts seeing what living could truly be.

-

Andrew Minyard is a newly recruited police officer for the worst precinct in Baltimore, who is dedicated on hunting down the notorious Butcher and his unnamed underling. But when Neil Josten is thrown into his midst as his civilian consultant; he starts to realize some things don't quite appear as they seem.

I love the story telling -- the secret identities, the plotting, everything.

Chapters: 14/14

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Butcher Neil, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced slef-harm (I believe there is a scene that is somewhat detailed on this subject), some characters also get drugged at one point, 

-- 

that’s just something people say by nanatsuyu ( @theoctopusnods )

Neil makes the mistake of stealing the wrong car. Andrew makes the mistake of offering a ride to a liar. They both make the mistake of turning the whole affair into a road trip ‘home.’

Gonna be honest; the summary does not give a big idea as to what is in store and i am SO GLAD I gave this one a try so i’m telling you that you will be too

Chapters: 24/24

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, panic attacks (somewhat grahic descriptions of)

--

The Story After You by kanekicure ( @kanekicure )

Andrew Minyard does not understand how Riko Moriyama landed Neil Wesninski.

How the snot-nosed, small dick, rich brat, second son of the Moriyama family who also just so happened to own the largest EXY gear and merchandiser company in the world “RAVEN” - had landed smart mouthed, quick witted, stupidly blue eyed Wesninski, was beyond him. Well, unless Wesninski was a gold digger, but Andrew doubted it.

-

Or; how Andrew Minyard says he doesn't get into messy situations, until he meets Neil and suddenly he is in the most messiest possible situation ever imagined in his life - oh and also, he might be becoming a homewrecker.

Ok I am behind bc I haven’t read the final chapter of this but!! I love the story, it’s very emotional and moving, and I love the characterization in it.

Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Abusive Riko/Neil, abusive relationship, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/reference child abuse, implied/referenced self-harm, graphic depictions of violence, some descriptions of injuries/scarring, 

-- 

This Complicated Life by 5a5b5p5 ( @andrewsbutterflyknife )

“This is exactly why I don’t want you and Andrew to meet,” Aaron says grumpily. “You two would get along far too well.”

Neil grins. “I just like pissing you off,” he says, “It’s not my fault your brother does such a good job at it.”

—

Neil doesn’t expect much from his Sophomore year of college, but when he becomes a waiter at the Palmetto Bistro, his life gets a whole lot more interesting. As it turns out, maintaining friendships new and old as well as navigating an interesting relationship with the head chef of the restaurant—who just so happens to be his best friend’s twin brother—is a lot more complicated than he’d thought it would be.

A much more light-hearted fic than most of the others! Includes a secret relationship, and also chef Andrew >>

Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Mature

Warnings: 

--

When I Fade, Keep Me in Your Memory by demesh 

Neil Josten has a secret: he can flicker out of existence.

He can vanish with the turn of a thought; click his fingers, and suddenly he’s not there anymore. Invisible and untouchable, he becomes a living ghost.

Having promised his mother never to let his ability go, Neil teeters the line between faded and real, a person and an echo. He can’t risk getting hurt.

But then, one day, someone sees him when they shouldn’t be able to.

 A (flower-shop) AU about how a faded and lonely Neil finds it in him to become someone real.

Another fic that I need to catch up on ;; but anyway it’s amazing and I love Neil’s ability in it, it’s so well explained and well-written about

Chapters: 12/12

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, panic attacks

--

12 Ways to Woo a Minyard by NikNak22 ( @knickknacksandallthat )

Neil is a math nerd who, by a stroke of dumb luck, falls into a group of friends that are the closest thing to family he’s ever had. So, when he tells them about his new mysterious crush, he shouldn’t be surprised how immediately they come up with a plan to help win them over. One they insist that if Neil follows it, he’ll have them falling for him in no time. But things don’t always go to plan – or do they?

Nicky wants to set him up with someone else. Matt and Jeremy are confused but supportive. Allison and Seth offer lewd suggestions, while Dan does her best to keep everyone in line. Jean and Renee know something, Aaron doesn’t really care, and Kevin just wants Neil to join the lacrosse team.

But one thing’s for certain – whether Neil’s successful or not, everyone’s got money riding on this.

The romance-trope-filled fanfic of my dreams. Sometimes you just need a fic of pure joy -- this is that fic. 

Chapters: 14/14

Rating: Mature

Warnings: 

--

finders keepers by moonix ( @annawrites ​ )

Andrew meets Nathaniel through a scavenger hunt app. As their team takes part in a hunt that sends each of them to creepy, abandoned places alone to solve clues and gain points, Andrew and Nathaniel begin a little treasure hunt of their own. The anonymity of getting to know each other in small increments, never meeting face-to-face, allows them a level of intimacy neither are used to. Meanwhile Renee’s friend Neil is acting weird whenever Andrew shows up…

This was one of the first fics I read for aftg!! And BOY what a great start!! All of the little pieces and parts that work together, and just the scavenger hunt itself is fantastic! (I also REALLY wanna know if there is an app like this out there because I would be down to do that)

Chapters: 8/8

Rating: Mature

Warnings: (these all come from the author:) “mentions of historical abuse in a mental asylum, mentions of suicide, mentions of murder and kidnapping, morbid facts, creepy abandoned places including a haunted house at a theme park with disturbing rooms, special appearance of a creepy clown doll, fatphobia and some introspection on body image/complicated relationship with food, mention of self harm scars”

-----

Scared to Live (But I’m Scared to Die) by Major_816 ( @major816 )

Neil Josten goes to the Nest for Andrew, but he stays for a lot more.

~

"I'm sorry Coach," he muttered.

"For what kid?" Wymack shifted. "You've got to give me something to work with here."

Wymack watched the thin traces of sorrow as paper exchanged hands and he was looking down at a contract with the Edgar Allan Raven's.

"I signed them Coach, I'm sorry."

~

The one where Neil doesn't come back from Winter Break.

It is VERY dark, and is one of very few fics that I have actually been almost unable to read one of the scenes, so DEFINITELY pay attention to the warnings -- both these, and the ones provided for each individual chapter. I did go through the fic to collect as many warnings as I could find in the chapter warnings, but be sure to take care of yourself.

Chapters: 36/36

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: rape/non-con elements, implied/referenced rape/non-con, discussions of rape/non-con, canon-typical violence, graphic descritions, physical abuse, panic attacks, descriptions of injuries (often graphic), psychological warfare, dissociating, psychological torture, physical torture, use of knives, alcoholism/alcohol abuse, pain-induced delirium, rape/non-con, emotional self-separation, suicidal ideation/thoughts of suicide, emotional distress (which sums up the whole fic and also me while reading it), handcuffs/chains used as restraints, referenced/implied abuse towards animals, vomitting, begging, excessive use of painkillers, drowning, waterboarding, physical restraint, mutilation of an animal, mild hallucinations, non-con drugging, sleep deprivation, starvation, humiliation, the Butcher, 

Also one of the first fics I read and 100% my absolute favorite fic!!! Which is adfjhsd a little worrying, considering, but it is what it is. Anyway. This fic absolutely wrecked me, and while it is technically complete, there is a sequel in the works! So! But I am so so excited for the sequel, and I am working on rereading this. It’s amazing. 1000/10.

#also!! btw i would love if anyone has more fic recs >> just an fyi >> #idk if demesh doesn't have a tumblr but i couldn't find one :( #also major816 for some reason i can never tag and idk why #aftg #all for the game #andreil #the foxhole court #tfc #andrew minyard #neil josten #fic rec #rec list

[funtimebunnyblog]

Pillarmen with a s/o who’s terrified of the dark 🥺? She always clings to them if they’re near if the lights suddenly go out. She only feels safe in the dark of her pillarman is there to protect her 🥺

I really like the irony of this request! 🤔😆 4 ancient Aztec Vampire Gods (who have dwelled in darkness their entire existence) with a Mate who doesn't like the dark! 😂😂😂

In other words, please remember my dear Anon that no fear or phobia is too silly 🙂❤ Thank you very much for this submission and please enjoy!

The Pillarmen with an s/o who's afraid of the dark! 😱

(Under the cut for length!)

Nyctophobia: The extreme or irrational fear of the night or darkness...

Kars:

• To him, fears of any and all kinds are meaningless.

• This was because Kars was powerful, of course; every inch of him brimmed with strength unmeasured.

• Why should he hold very basic and useless fears for anything when he was above any threat?

• You had mentioned off handedly one or two times that you didn't like the dark, it didn't go unnoticed by him that there usually wasn't a room in the house without a light of some sort on, but he never really paid any mind to it.

• He didn't realize just how serious your "dislike" ran until one night during a nasty storm when the power went off.

• When the lights suddenly went out and the house was encased in pitch black it didn't so much as bother him as he could see just fine in the darkness.

• This was just a minor inconvenience in his eyes. As for you on the other hand...

• Your scream pierced the air like a siren, puncturing his heart like a nail to a balloon even from all the way downstairs.

• The very sound made his hair stand on end and every primal instinct he had to protect you activated at once.

• "KARS!" You shrieked. "KARS HELP!!!"

• The Pillarman was out of his seat in a fraction of a second, kicking down the door of his study and flying down the stairs two at a time to reach you.

• You must've fallen. You must've hurt yourself. You must be bleeding. Dying. Thousands of logical things were running through his mind as to why you were screaming like that.

• He found you backed into the far corner of the livingroom, still screaming, your arms entangled around yourself as if to try and protect yourself from some unknown danger.

• "Y/N!" He cried, reaching you at last. The very second you felt him near you, your arms flew around him in a desperate and clinging embrace, your screams dying down to sobs.

• Kars held you in his arms, eyes frantically scanning your quivering body. "What is it? Where are you hurt? Did you--"

• He was cut off suddenly. "DARK!"

• The massive man stopped, blinking stupidly. "What?" "It's dark! It's too DARK! IT'S TOO DARK!!!" You cried, shaking your head frantically as you hugged him even tighter.

• You were desperately trying to worm your way deeper into his arms; as if trying to hide and disappear from the dark world around you completely.

• The Pillarman stared owl eyed down at you; you were screaming... just because it was dark?

• Kars opened his mouth, ready to scold you for startling him so terribly and making him think that you were in some sort of real danger when suddenly... it all truly dawned on him.

• You were scared of the dark. This was legit and real, tangible fear to you... and you turned to him because you were afraid enough to think you needed protection.

• Frowning, he carried you to the couch and sat down, cradling you in his arms and allowing you to cling to him as tightly as you wanted. The storm continued to crash and rumble in the distance; it was likely the power would not be back on until morning.

• He wasn't going to let you sit in the dark all by yourself; struck with terror and crying inconsolably like so until dawn.

• "Shhhh, it's alright, my little light." He whispered, smoothing his big palm over your back as you continued to cry. "Close your eyes and it won't be so dark and listen to my voice..."

• As you did so, he encouraged you to take deep breaths, waiting for you to calm down just a little before carrying out his next action.

• "Just listen to me, breathe... that's it. And again... don't focus on anything else, just the sound of my voice." His breath tickled your ear as he spoke softly, buried in the crook of his neck.

• You could feel him smile softly against your skin, "Now, I want you to imagine that you're outside, standing in the loveliest field you've ever seen. Rows upon rows of colourful flowers greet you under the warm, golden sun..."

• Kars talked quietly to you for a good long while, calming you down and taking you on a trip via your mind as he rubbed your back; distracting you completely from your fear.

• The darkness shrouded both of you until morning but you had long forgotten about it, Kars' soft voice had lulled you into a deep sleep.

• He made sure from then on to take extra precautions for your fears and you could always count on him to console you and help you if the dark ever came around.

• Even though he was above phobias, he wasn't above your needs.

Esidisi:

• Esidisi laughed in the face of fears; spiders, heights, closed spaces, you name it! Anything of the like were nothing in his eyes.

• He had gotten so used to not fearing anything standing in his path, he forgot the fact that other people did indeed have legit fears.

• That didn't help the fact that he liked to tease people for being afraid of something (mostly when they were afraid of him).

• Because of that, you never told him that you were afraid of the dark; you were afraid he'd laugh at you or worse, tell you to grow up.

• Esidisi ended up finding out about your fear first hand one night when the power unexpectedly went out due to a powerline being hit somewhere on your grid.

• You had been sitting on the couch next to Esidisi, watching T.V when all of a sudden the T.V clicked off, the fan stopped spinning, the low hum of the fridge fell silent; everything quickly went dark.

• Immediately, you froze up, hands flying to your mouth to stiffle the shriek that wanted to rip through you as nothing but an infinite wall of black hit your vision.

• You tried to hold your composure, inevitably crumbling in the face of your worst fear. Terror squeezed your heart and lungs painfully, your head spun, the only thing keeping you grounded was a little voice in your head screaming "Don't panic!"

• Esidisi frowned, looking around the dark room. "Hmm, and I was enjoying that show too..." he groaned quietly, turning his gaze to you.

• He could see you clear as day where you sat, paralyzed, and a chuckle passed his lips; he thought you were just in shock from the sudden outage.

• "Oh, what's the matter, dear? Don't tell me you're scared now!" He laughed, prodding you in the side with a finger.

• His laughter fell silent when you didn't respond and he suddenly took notice of the fact that you were shaking, your hands gripping the couch like a vice, your breaths were starting to come quickly and audibly.

• That look on your face hit him square in the gut, he could now see the tears trickling down your cheeks... Oh... OH!

• The moment it dawned on him, he felt absolutely terrible. Why didn't he see this sooner?!

• Your could hear him rustling around in the dark (at least you prayed that it was Esidisi fumbling around) but couldn't see him of course.

• You let out a yelp in surprise when two hands suddenly grabbed you by the hips and you were picked up, dropped into a familiar and warm lap.

• Light. A single golden and red flame of a candle licking at the air hit your eyes blindingly from where it stood on the coffee table, captivating you in mere seconds with its brightness. Another lit. Then another. And another!

• Before you was an entire table of lit candles, casting the once endlessly dark livingroom in a soft warm glow. Surprised, you turned your eyes back to meet the loving smile of Esidisi, his olive skin ruddy in the candlelight.

• "There. Not so dark now, is it?" He asked, only hugging you closer. The warmth of his embrace was soothing, the light and the safety of his arms ebbing your fears just a little.

• He chuckled as you breathed out an audible sigh of relief, he could feel the tension drain from your body as you sank deeper into his hold.

• "You know, it's actually a very good meditative practice to sit and focus on the light of a candle." He murmured, a massive and heated hand wrapping around yours. "It stimulates the mind and helps soothe too. Perhaps we can try it for a bit, since there's nothing on Television..."

• Rest assured; Esidisi would never laugh at your fears. No matter what they were or how childish they seemed.

• As long as you had him around, he would act as your beacon in the darkness.

Wamuu:

• Like many people, Wamuu outgrew his fears.

• As a Pillarchild he was afraid of a few things but as he grew under his Masters tutelage and weaned to be a Fighter, he learned to face those fears and use them to harden himself into a Warrior.

• Now as a fully grown Pillarman, Wammu didn't hold fear for anything; fears would only give an opponent an advantage and any he had only drove him to cast them aside when they happened to arouse.

• He once told you about the many fears he overcame (you had asked him what he was like when he was small) and he questioned if you had done the same.

• You were quite the opposite. Hesitantly, you told him you still held quite a fear for the dark. You never conquered it.

• This surprised Wamuu but he didn't look down on you for it and he surprised you in turn when he asked if you wanted some help in learning to try and overcome your phobia.

• You accepted his offer and he began to "train" you gradually.

• He'd start by turning off "unnecessary" lights; like simple nightlights you'd keep on in hallways or lights not being used in another room. Then He'd move into having the room partially dark or having the hall dark with the bedroom door open while you slept.

• He never once pushed you and never went too far by putting you in complete dark.

• However, one night, an unexpected power outage hit the town. Immediately, you found yourself practically jumping into your Mates arms as the entire house was encased in darkness.

• "Breathe, my beloved." The Pillarman told you, a hand rubbing over your head. He let you grab onto him all you wanted watching over you in the dark. "Remember all our training together, the dark cannot hurt you. The dark is nothing, it does not wield weapons and it cannot strike..."

• You'd try. You'd try with all your might. Breathing so hard your lungs burned, trying to focus but failing and feeling yourself slowly becoming more consumed by your fear.

• However, this was an improvement. Had Wamuu not spent so much time "training" you, you would be absolutely screaming your head off right now.

• Tears prickled in your eyes. Your ears hypersensitive to every sound around you, almost jumping in your seat every time a floor creaked or the wind outside brushed against the house.

• It was slowly becoming too much to handle with every passing second. It was just too much! It was just too dark!

• Wamuu smiled softly, only holding you closer to him and allowing you to bury yourself in his neck; if it meant you felt safe, he would let you do so all you wanted.

• The Warrior put himself back to when he was a Child, remembering how he had clung to his Masters when struck with fear...

• He felt terrible you were still living and feeling such real fear to this day.

• Quietly, Wamuu began to hum an old lullaby. The vibrations of his wide and hard chest sent shivers through your whole body, like you were sitting in a massage chair at the Mall.

• His voice was deep and rich, the tune and the power of its tone distracting you of the fact you were sitting in complete darkness and keeping you grounded.

• Music had always helped him when he was scared and his Masters had always been excellent singers. It would seem he had the power to bestow the same effect on you.

• He sat there, holding you close and humming until you stopped shivering; he helped you only focus on him and not the darkness shrowding you.

• "Even though you cannot see, I can." He murmured, watching as you struggled to keep awake any longer; eyes falling open and closed helplessly.

• "I will keep watch and protect you in the dark." Those words were what sent you off to sleep in his arms. "I will always keep you safe, my little Warrior, until you feel ready to fight for youself."

• Wamuu could only hope he'll be a good enough teacher to help you until one day, you weren't afraid anymore.

Santana:

• Very similar to Wamuu, Santana had fears of his own as a small child.

• He wasn't as brave as Wamuu when it came down to facing them, more often he would learn to find ways to distract himself from his fears rather than find ways to overcome them.

• To this day, Santana feared very little but he never really showed that fear in him to onlookers.

• After getting a strange letter in the mail, Santana wouldcome to learn that you didn't hide your fears as well as he.

• He didn't know what a "planned outage" was but he simply deemed the notice "junk mail" (as you called it) and disposed of it.

• One day later, at around 8:30pm, the power shut off.

• "S-Santana!" You cried, eyes darting around helplessly in the darkness where you stood in the middle of the livingroom, knees quaking and too afraid to move a muscle. "Santana, wh-where are you?!"

• His head poked into the room, eyes falling on you with immediate confusion.

• "Help!" You were practically choking on your words now, the Pillarman stared in shock as you started to bawl. "Please, please help! It's dark! It's too dark!"

• His nostrils flared, he could practically smell the fear off you now as he watched you cower before him in the darkness. It was all too familiar to him.

• Without another thought he dashed back into the kitchen, the sounds of him fumbling around in the drawers hit your ears and only added to your ongoing anxiety.

• "San-Santana?!" You whimpered, thoughts of an intruder or unseen danger running rapidly through your head as the footsteps came back.

• Click! You were blinded by a bright blast of light, squinting and holding a hand against the powerful beam directed onto you. Santana stood before you with a flashlight in hand; the biggest and brightest one in the house.

• You breathed a sigh of utter relief, your throat stinging painfully from the gut wrenching and primal shot of fear you had just undergone, as you reached to take the flashlight.

• Santana, however, had other plans.

• In a split second, you were pushed down into the armchair and the flashlight dropped into your lap; its beam shinning onto the wall across the room.

• "What-- What are--?" The words died on your tongue as a shadow suddenly appeared in the beam. The shape of a dog.

• "Woof." Santana's voice was as deep and deadpan as always as he moved his fingers, making the dog "bark" for you. The antics only stunned and confused you for a solid moment before his hands shifted to cast the shape of a duck. "Quack."

• Shadow puppets? A little giggle rose up inside of you as you kept watching, suddenly utterly captivated and very entertained.

• Santana wasn't the best at putting sounds to the shapes he cast but he was most excellent at using his hands to make very convincing silhouettes.

• In fact; he made you laugh so hard at one point by trying to convincingly "Meow" you were rocking in the chair!

• When the lights came back on suddenly, you blinked in absolute shock. A whole hour had passed and you had completely forgotten about the fact that you had been sitting in the dark the whole time!

• Santana smiled softly as you looked at him, gobsmacked. "How-- Why did--" You couldn't even form the words. "I am afraid of heights." His voice cut you off, the words spoken only stunning you further into silence.

• His eyes cast to the floor, "I am afraid of falling." He continued. "When I am somewhere up high, I try to focus on the sky or the birds or the stars rather than down below. When I am distracted, I am not afraid."

• You could only blink at this revelation. Santana just confided that he had fears of his own and he had spent the past hour making sure to distract you from yours.

• Next time, when the power went out or when you were sitting somewhere way up high, the both of you were well prepared to distract one another and laugh the time away until it was over...

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #pillarmen headcanons #kars x reader #wamuu x reader #esidisi x reader #santana x reader #anon ask #my writing

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding VII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - Part II - - - Part III - - - Part IV - - - Part V - - - Part VI

CONTENT WARNING: Please be advised this chapter may contain triggering material. More detail available in tags. 

It wasn’t until Anakin was staring at the hot sauce bottles and solitary mysterious green takeout container that he remembered they were at war, and therefore no longer in the habit of restocking the apartment’s cold stasis.

“Obi-Wan, there’s nothing to eat!” 

"I know!” came the call back. “I’m trying to meditate!”

Anakin closed the stasis door and walked back out to the common room. Obi-Wan sat crosslegged on the window sill.

“Do or do not, there is no try,” the knight quipped.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to look fondly at the man standing before him. Maybe tomorrow, when he woke alone in a dusty desert hovel, he would regret letting himself play pretend for so long. Maybe this whole day would fade from his memory like a dream.

But right now, he felt... peaceful. He wouldn’t claim to be satisfied by the explanations he imagined for Anakin, but it would have been far more disturbing if he somehow came up with an actually sympathetic justification for genocide. He got to say and hear a number of goodbyes. He even got to cry over Anakin with the comfort of his presence. 

Now he had to let go, to be there for Luke. (And he could always get more spice...)

“I guess if you need to meditate, I can go pick us up food from the Temple Tapcaf.” Anakin offered. 

“Thank you, Anakin. Today...helped. More than I can explain.” Obi-Wan said softly.

“I- I don’t really deserve that. Considering it was all my fault.” Anakin bowed his head, helpless for words, but uncomfortable with being praised.

“Not every terrible thing that has happened is your fault. You made a series of terrible choices, yes. But there were, there are, other dark forces at work and not a single Jedi in the order was able to stop them. At least for a short time today I was able to set that aside, so for what it’s worth, thank you.”

“Kriff.” Anakin said shocked. “Of course there’s more. Ok. That’s all right, we-” he was cut off by a growl from Obi-Wan’s stomach. 

A snort of laughter escaped before Anakin smacked a hand over his mouth. “Alright, I’m going to the Tapcaf, you just...meditate until I get back.”

Obi-Wan swallowed and nodded, “I love you so much.” 

“Force Obi-Wan, you’re going to make me start crying again.” He pulled him into a bear hug. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m not gone, ok? Just...meditate. And drink some water.”

"Hmm, I don’t know. Some of my best choices recently have been stupid,” Obi-Wan laughed. The words were light, but Anakin felt a prickle of unease, a hint of danger. There was no clear cause, and Obi-Wan seemed relaxed but...

Anakin gripped his Master’s shoulders, staring him dead in the eye. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

Obi-Wan sighed, “I promise.” He pulled Anakin down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Anakin.”

"I’ll be back in 20 minutes.” He paused, then mumbled, “i love you too” before speeding out the door.

Obi-Wan settled back into meditation, reaching inwards. Everything but his body and the light within faded. He magnified his hunger, his thirst, visualizing the pack of dried jerky in his hut, the precious jars of water in the basement. He could almost feel the heat that never quite abandoned Tatooine, even during the short nights. He opened his eyes

and saw the temple apartment.

He shut them again quickly. He was sure he could snap himself out of this. He sank deeper inward, careful to leave his shields perfectly intact. With the galaxy as dim as it was, a real show of force had the potential to grab attention across star systems. Force purging toxins, fortunately, was more a matter of internal concentration than outward power. It was one of the first skills Obi-Wan had truly mastered as a Jedi, thanks to numerous kidnappings at the start of his apprenticeship and hard drinking towards the end. 

It was uncomfortable to be that keenly aware of one’s kidneys, but Obi-Wan managed. It was less intense than a healing trance, anyway. His heart rate increased as various metabolic processes sped up- and almost immediately slowed down. Huh. The drug must of almost run its natural course, and now he 

still in the temple.

Kark. Shit. 

‘Breathe’ he thought. Stress was only going to increase his chances of a stroke. Alright, so meditation wasn’t working. Maybe he could try for longer, but part of him was nervous that if ‘Anakin’ returned he’d lose the willpower, and so far the passage of time had been extremely linear. He was too invested in the fantasy at this point for anything easy.

Remember your training. Your eyes can deceive you, do not trust them. 

Padawans were taught three main methodologies to move beyond mindtricks, hallucinations, visions, and the like. Looking In, Reaching Out, and Breaking Out. 

Looking in wasn’t working. That left the other two options. In the past, when his senses were lying to him he could always trust in the force, but now...it was just too much risk. Reaching out like that, with his whole self, meant the chance of finding someone.

That left breaking out. Obi-Wan jumped up, staring intensely at the details in the molding, the stains on the carpet, at everything. At no point today had he spotted objects fading to grey in the corner his vision, or ripple as memories from different time frames overlapped, but surely there must be some weak point.

Nothing. 

Shit, he really had stayed too long. Alright then, time for more uncivilized measures.

He walked to the kitchen and pulled their butcher’s vibroblade from its block, holding it to his neck, then hesitated.

This had to be done, but it didn’t make it any less unsettling. It was his own fault for lingering in the delusion so long; all the more palatable paths to escape had closed off, and after all he had been through he refused to die from a drug overdose. Gods, it might take years for someone to find the body.

He steeled himself, bringing the blade back up decisively only to drop it with a clatter. Pressing a hand to his throat, he was unnerved but not entirely surprised to find a stinging line of pain. His hand came away wet with blood. He instinctively pressed both hands to the cut, pulse rapid and heavy and slippery beneath his palms.

It’s just a hallucination. It’s just an extremely vivid hallucination.

A thought occurred to Obi-Wan then, and he felt something in the pit of his stomach drop in horror.

What if...what if the blade was real. What if he was actually moving around his home right now, hazily sleepwalking in a pantomime of the peaceful stroll and tender embraces he was imagining. It would explain the immediate relief from the water this morning...hadn’t he found his way to food and water even dazed from sleep-debt and blood-loss during the war?

He had a vibroblade in the desert too...

His pulse pounded harder beneath his hands. The cut wasn’t even that deep, but for the first time Obi-Wan felt the true existential horror of his current trap well up. If he didn’t know where the walls were...how could he escape.

He took a deep breath, acknowledging and letting go of his panic.

He had the force. He would just have to be delicate in his application. He picked up the bloodied tool from the floor but decided to simply to clip it to his belt for now. A force-null object would be harder to distinguish at first touch.

Obi-Wan walked to his temple bedroom and opened the barest crack in his shields, just enough to reach out, get a sense of existing currents in the force. He stirred at one until a small vortex of light formed. To anyone looking, it would appear a naturally occurring, low-powered whirlpool, common enough on Tattoine. Any gentle moves he made in the minutes before it fell apart would hopefully be obscured by its wake.

He hesitantly laid a hand on the lightsaber on his bedside table, lowering his shields a little further. His heart sunk when he realized that his memory had even recreated the perception of force-imbued temple walls in the periphery. The Kyber in his saber reverberated with a familiar song. He jerked his hand away. That felt too much like his real lightsaber. He couldn’t risk it. 

Before Obi-Wan truly began to panic again, he realized something missing. Anakin’s- Darth Vader’s saber. Since picking it up on Mustafar, the crystal in it had screamed at him, halfway to corruption. When he touched the blade he could almost feel... feel what horrors it had been bent to commit.

Most of the time he left it buried under a rock pile in his basement, too afraid to work on healing it.

He couldn’t hear it now- but he could feel the memory of what it used to be.

It sat innocently on his Anakin’s bedside table. There was a tinge of darkness to it of course- this saber had only ever known war. But when he rested a hand on the blade it was clear this belonged to the memory he had walked with today, not the tyranny of reality.

Grasping it firmly, he marched back to the windowsill and settled, intent on his choice. Sunsets here couldn’t compare to tattooine- they were just too different. The binary play transformed the infinite horizon. It was something on Tatooine he unabashedly marveled at.

Courasant, on the other hand, transformed the sun into a reflection of itself. Untold millions of transparisteel buildings refracted the star painfully at some points while casting shadows on the rest. The filter of light through constant smog resulted in strange shades of neon green and blood red. It was beautiful, but uncomfortable to look at too long.

He closed his eyes and pressed the saber to his chest.

---

Anakin was impatiently waiting in the hot service line when the urge to return to his apartment insistently welled up again. He pushed it back of course- Obi-Wan needed food and Anakin couldn’t keep putting his own selfish impulses in front of his Master’s wellbeing.

He held out for a few seconds, but the itch was getting stronger, sharper. He looked down at the tray- it already had most of Obi-Wan’s cold favorites, but he really wanted to get him his favorite soup if the line would just move a little faster. He jolted when, for the first time that day, Obi-Wan’s shielding thinned the slightest amount. Not enough to get anything clear, but the fact that there was movement at all...

He left the line; they could always come back together if Obi-Wan wanted. Hells, maybe they’d do a late night visit to Dex’s for some real comfort food. Anakin still couldn’t get a sense of what Obi-Wan was up to through their muffled bond. He felt a buzz in his ears, not unlike the moment before an enemy blow.

He picked up speed, tea sloshing in its thermoflask. An elder looked at him annoyed as darted around him.

He started speed walking in earnest as the feeling got more intense. A sandwich fell to the wayside.

Speed walking quickly switched to jogging, then running; there was a shout of complaint as he ditched the whole tray carelessly behind.

He took the last few hallways at a full-out force-assisted sprint, the Force itself screaming at him to move. A small part of his mind thought we’re safe inside the temple Obi-Wan promised not to do anything stupid i’m going to get such shit for freaking out over nothing. 

He sensed nothing from Obi-Wan over the bond; not a hint of fear or anger or surprise. He blurred around the last corner, feeling like he might throw up with his increasing, unexplained panic.

Not caringabout anything butgettingto Obi-Wan beforeitstoolate he smashed down the door at the same moment Obi-Wan, sitting peacefully by the window, turned on the lightsaber pointing directly at his heart.

Time seemed to slow. Splinters of the door frame hung in the air as Anakin desperately pulled the lightsaber away from Obi-Wan in the half-second between activation and ignition.

He wasn’t quite fast enough.

Blue plasma pierced Obi-Wan’s chest as time caught up. Pieces of the wall shattered like shrapnel as he turned, shocked to see Anakin. The saber flew away in a straight arrow. 

Anakin threw himself to Obi Wan’s side, wildly trying to draw heat away from the searing hole before it could vaporize the surrounding flesh. He couldn’t tell what the saber had pierced, or how far it had gone in considering its last second movement.

One hand trained on a hundred battle fields robotically reached for his comm-unit to call for emergency medical assistance. His mind however, had largely been left behind a few minutes ago, when he was trying to pick what Obi-Wan would want to eat for dinner.

What came out his mouth was more incoherent shrieking than anything else, but he had at least called the correct line for temple aid.

He threw down the comm, focus intent on controlling the smoldering burn. The air around them seemed to boil and Obi-Wan started struggling to get away. Anakin bodily held him down, finally finding words,

“What the FUCK, OBI-WAN! YOU LITERALLY JUST PROMISED NOT TO DO ANYTHING STUPID! YOU PROMISED!”

“that’s why- hkk I  have  to” Obi-Wan rasped.

“Karking Fuck.YOU- STOP MOVING!”

Anakin felt a twinge of danger come from the side but was too focused to do anything but shift his body as shield. A sharp pain pierced his gut but he ignored it. 

The air crackled with heat and power as the wound beneath him cooled. A faint trickle of dark blood oozed out, probably burns breaking from recent movement, considering the instant cauterization. He couldn’t see any light coming through, which meant he had moved the saber at least a quarter klick before it activated, Anakin thought semi hysterically.

Finally, someone showed up to investigate the disturbance. In truth, probably less than a minute had passed since Anakin entered the room, but he really didn’t care.

“HELP ME!” Anakin shouted.

“What happened?” Mace Windu asked grimly, falling to the ground next to them. Not waiting for an answer, he set his lit saber aside and placed his hand to Obi-Wan’s forehead, stilling the violent thrashing.

Anakin opened his mouth but he just didn’t have the words. He didn’t know. 

“General Skywalker, report.” Mace Windu commanded sharply. 

“I left him alone to get dinner for us. I ran back and when I broke open the door he was holding the lightsaber to his chest. I tried...to pull it away. It pierced him, and I’ve been trying to manage the initial burn risk. I called for medi but I don’t know their eta.”

“They’re behind me. How did you get stabbed?” the Master demanded.

“How did I what?” Anakin looked down to see a vibroblade sticking out from his left side. Right, the pain from before. Obi-Wan suddenly mustered up the energy to wake up despite his state and Windu’s compulsion. He looked around wildly before yanking the knife from Anakin’s side.

Anakin gasped, but managed to still his brother’s hand using the force before he could finish bringing it up to his neck, which Anakin just noticed was bloody.

“STOP TRYING TO DIE!” Anakin screeched.

“...I’m...not....I’m....trying.....to...” 

But before Obi-Wan could finish the sentence, the healers finally arrived, pushing Windu aside to grab hold of Anakin and Obi-Wan. He could feel a buzz of energy go through him, stopping at the growing damp patch at his side. He tried to push the man away but the heat in the room was starting to make him dizzy

“I’m fine! Focus on Obi-Wan.”

Mace placed a hand on his shoulder, and in the gentlest voice he had ever heard from the man, said, “You’ve been stabbed Anakin. Let the healers help both of you- you’ve done well looking out for him.”

Obi-Wan, still occasional thrashing was being loaded onto a hoverstrech for transport. A second stretcher waited next to it. 

“Master Windu! He’s fighting us,” Master Che called sharply. “Can you tell us what happened?”

“Master Kenobi tried to kill himself,” Windu replied flatly. “His wounds are self inflicted and he’s violently fighting assistance” 

There was a beat as that information was processed. Knight Bant, who must have arrived at some point, said in slightly less flat voice, “He displayed erratic behavior earlier today, and I ruled out drug interactions.”

“Thank you, Knight Bant.” Master Che plunged a syringe of some kind into Obi-Wans thigh. He finally stopped attempting to fight, falling down onto the board. “Red team, with me. Orange, you have Skywalker,” She instructed sharply. 

Anakin numbly watched most of the healers leave with Obi-Wan through a hole in the wall. He slowly started to stand and somehow ended up guided into a seat on the hoverboard. Looking down, he was surprised to see his tunic cut away in favor of a large bacta patch. 

“Hey,” he protested. “Who stabbed me?”

“We can discuss that after you have surgery,” A Human healer replied. Master Covamos, he thought.

“This is my fault” Anakin said, suddenly urgent. “I shouldn’t have left him. He told me goodbye, he was saying goodbye all day, I should have...”

“You saved his life,” Windu interrupted. “You got to him just in time, don’t waste your energy on should-haves. Now sleep.”

Anakin wanted to argue more, but instead found himself laying down, vision blurring. His face felt damp, had he been stabbed more than once? Windu said a few more words he couldn’t quite make out. There was a brief stinging sensation, then everything faded away. 

----

Part VIII

#star wars #potentially triggering #self harm #attempted suicide #blood #graphic depictions of injury #violence #character is not actually suicidal but is severely divorced from reality due to space wizard plot device #suicidal misunderstanding au #my au #star wars au no 27 #angst #obi wan kenobi needs a hug #KRIFF this was intense to write #i need a hug #jeez #story was supposed to go emotional catharsis Healing TRAUMA healing Emotional Catharsis but i may have played myself with the middle bit #hope you enjoy :) #or at least suffer with me

[marvelmusing]

Making Time

Mobius M Mobius x Reader

Part 3

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

“Here we go.” You whisper, looking between Mobius and Loki, then up at Mount Vesuvius.

“Shh, any minute now.” Mobius adds.

“Until this entire town is wiped off the face of this planet. Imagine. All that volcanic ash-“ Loki starts.

“I know. We don't want to get too giddy.”

“Oh, come on! It's cool.”

“No, it is cool, but it's just not in good taste because...”

“They're all gonna die anyway.”

“I know. Now listen, I'm gonna watch the TemPad for any variance energy.” He says, pulling the device out from his pocket.

“Okay.”

“Okay, because we gotta be careful.”

“If you're wrong, and there's a good chance you are, anything we do can create a huge branch.”

“Oh, Mobius! You make even the end of the world sound boring.” Loki complains.

“Listen! Okay, we're not meant to be here.”

“And we don’t need Minutemen rushing here to arrest and delete us, okay?” You tell him. He nods,

“Okay.”

“Anything we do can impact the course of history. Do you get that?”

“Yes. Yes.”

“So we're gonna start with very small disturbances. Very small. Can you make bird noises?” You both frown at Mobius.

“Bird noises?”

“Yeah. Bird noises. Like some, like whooshing noises?” He begins to imitate a bird call. You roll your eyes,

“Moby? I was on the side of caution. But we’re going to need more than that.” Mobius continues his bird impressions to the disdain of Loki who groans and runs off.

“Loki!” You hiss. He doesn’t go far, standing on a nearby cart and proclaiming to the people of Pompeii that they are all going to die. On a positive note you’ve come up with a new scale to rate nexus events: starting with bird noises and ending with prophesying the future. Loki then decides to release a hoard of goats. Fantastic. Loki halts his Latin monologue to look over at you and Mobius for a fact check,

“We are from the future, right? What is the TVA? I mean, it's from the future. It sounds from the future. It's pretty futurey.” You’re about to answer him when you realise you don’t actually know. You’d always assumed the TVA just existed outside of time. Though you’re not sure how that would work. You’re about to ask Mobius when the volcano erupts. Loki then proceeds to have what looks like an existential crisis. “Nothing matters! Nothing has any consequence! Dance while you still can!” You lean over Mobius’s shoulder.

“How’s it going?” You ask, nodding towards his TemPad.

“I don't believe it. Zero variance energy. No branching in the timeline.” He tells you. Overhearing what Mobius says, Loki approaches you,

“The TVA would never even know we were here. If it were me, this is where I would hide.” A colossal cloud of ash rolls down the hillside, quickly approaching the three of you.

“Erm, Loki, bud?” You say, concerned that he hasn’t noticed. You point over his shoulder, “You got a little something-“

On your return to the TVA, the three of you head to the archives, searching for all naturally occurring disasters. Turns out there’s a lot of them. Mobius hands you a pile of events from before you existed, which you appreciated. Whilst you were curious about what happened to the world after you left it, you’re not too eager to see the long list of apocalypses. After what feels like hours of searching the three of you decide to take a break.

You and Loki are sat in one of the TVA cafeterias, waiting for Mobius to return with some food. Two hunters pass by your table, and you keep your gaze on the papers in front of you.

“Why do they look at us like that?” Loki asks suddenly. You look up at him.

“Like what?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t noticed. You and Mobius don’t get the looks that you and I get.” He observes. You sigh,

“That’s because when it’s me and you, they see two Variants possibly plotting to overthrow the TVA.” That shocks Loki.

“You’re a Variant.” He states, and you nod,

“I was set to be deleted, until Mobius stepped in and saved me.”

“You must be very grateful to him.”

“I am.”

“So you believe in the all powerful lizards which dictate the existence of trillions of people?” You smirk, looking down at the papers in your hand.

“I didn’t say that.” You glance up at him, recognising the look on his face immediately. He was scheming. “Look Loki, I may not be a hundred percent loyal to the TVA, but I am to Mobius.”

“Mobius, who is a part of the TVA, who you don’t fully trust. How can you know he has your best interests at heart?”

“I don’t. I’m just hoping, that he does.” Mobius soon joins the two of you. After a brief discussion about jet skis the conversation quickly turns far too philosophical for your poor ‘I’ve just read about a million case files’ brain.

“I don't get hung up on believe or not believe. I just accept what is.” Mobius says with a sigh. Loki looks at him incredulously.

“Three magic space lizards?” Mobius nods,

“Time-Keepers.”

“Created the TVA, and everyone in it?” Mobius nods again. “Including you?”

“Including me.”

“But not me.” You add. Loki laughs softly,

“Every time I start to admire your intelligence, you say something like that.”

“Okay, who created you, Loki?” Mobius asks.

“A Frost Giant of Jo

“And who raised you?”

Odin of Asgard.

Odin, God of the Heavens. Asgard, mystical realm, beyond the stars. Frost Giants. Listen to yourself...

It's not the same. It's completely different. No. It's not the same.

It's exactly the same thing. Because if you think too hard about where any of us came from, who we truly are, it sounds kinda ridiculous. Existence is chaos. Nothing makes any sense, so we try to make some sense of it. And I'm just lucky that the chaos I emerged into gave me all this... My own glorious purpose. Cause the TVA is my life. And it's real because I believe it's real. “Fair enough. You believe it's real.”

“Yeah.”

“So everything is written. Past, present, future. There's no such thing as free will.”

“Well, I mean, you know, it's an oversimplification...”

“But practically, yes.” You say, not wanting to hear the in-depth workings of the timeline.

“So, in fact, in a way, us three here at the TVA, we're the only ones who are actually free.”

“Where are you going with this, Loki?”

“How does it all end?”

“That's a work in progress.”

“Those lazy Time-Keepers. What are they waiting for?”

“Au contraire. Because while we protect what came before, they're toiling away in their chamber, untangling the epilogue from its infinite branches.”

“So when they're finished, what happens then?”

“So are we. No more nexus events. Just order. And we meet in peace at the end of time. Nice, right?”

“Do we get to live in peace or do we just disappear because we aren’t needed anymore?” You ask, suddenly concerned that he mentioned the end of time. Loki continues his own questions,

“Only order?” Mobius hums in response. “No chaos? It sounds boring.”

“I'm sure it does to you.” Loki suddenly changes the subject,

“You called me a scared little boy.”

“I called you a lotta things.”

“You did. You're wrong, though. You see, I know something children don't.”

“What's that?”

“That no one bad is ever truly bad. And no one good is ever truly good.” Well that was deep. Mobius looks down at the table in front of him.

“Scared little boy.” He repeats.

“Yes, it was quite patronizing. I thought it was a bit too far, actually.” Loki admits. Mobius looks up, an idea dawning on his face.

“You're very clever.” He tells Loki as he stands up.

“I know.” Loki makes a ‘well obviously’ face as you stand and follow Mobius as he makes his way to the archive.

“The Variant left something behind at an old crime scene. A cathedral. A candy box. An obvious anachronism. I gave it to Analysis, but they couldn't find anything real.”

“Why does that matter?” Loki asks. Mobius unlocks a box on a nearby shelf, before opening it up.

“Cause now we have two variables. Apocalyptic natural disasters and... Kablooie.” He pulls out the candy box.

“What's that?”

“Candy. Do you have candy on Asgard?”

“Yeah. Grapes, nuts.”

“No wonder you're so bitter.”

“There’s a massive vending machine near Renslayer’s office. One time, I’ll buy you one of everything.” You tell Loki as the two of you sit down at your desk. Mobius returns with a huge stack of files.

“Okay. Kablooie was only sold regionally on Earth from 2047 to 2051. All ya gotta do is cross-reference that with every apocalyptic event.” The three of you sit, sorting through the files for sometime. Mobius looks up at you,

“Anything?”

“Well, it's not the climate disaster of 2048.” You tell him, flicking the page over.

“Or the tsunami of 2051.” Loki adds.

“Let's go. Let's go. Come on.”

“2050. The extinction of the swallow. Is that a thing?”

“We killed off the swallows?” You stare at Loki. “How the hell did that happen?” Mobius shrugs,

“Completely screwed up the ecosystem.”

“Krakatoa erupted in 2049 as well. No Kablooie.”

“God, it's just one damn thing after another, isn't it? Cyclone, famine, volcanoes, floods...” Mobius lists, and you can’t help but agree.

“Got him. That's where he is.” Loki pulls open a case file before offering it to you and Mobius. The two of you peer at the papers inside.

“Alabama, 2050.” You read aloud. Loki looks at you both, seeming rather pleased with himself. Mobius grins,

“You're gonna take my job if I'm not careful.”

Tagslist: @n0obmaster69 @mackycat11 @wibblywobblyjeremybearimy @boriqs @aloisia @fandom-lover-4 @lam-ila @momos-peaches @gracey07 @morganwilliams @greeneyedblondie44

If you’d like to be tagged, just ask!!

#mobius m mobius x reader #mobius x reader #agent mobius x reader #mobius #mobius m mobius #agent mobius #marvel au #mobius imagine #mobius loki #loki 2021 #loki show #marvel x reader

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Can we get a fluf fic where Mc tries to keep up with goofy/funny/silly/playful/sleepy/naughty Vivienne? Please I miss my babe😢

Pairing with: PLEASE ANY VIVIENNE X ZOE X MC FLUFFY WOULD BE APPRECIATED 🥺

PLEASE may I request ANY Vivienne x Zoe x MC fluff? Pretty please?…

...

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. You didn’t even stop to think about where Vivienne had gone off to, used to her random disappearances in the morning and far too distracted with the newest episode of a show Zoe and you liked to wonder about it for long.

Almost buzzing with excitement, you enter Zoe’s room, dropping in the moving chair she has by her side and eagerly watching the screen.

“How much is left?”

“Half an hour, but I think we’ll manage.”

With nothing else to do but wait, you quickly dissolve into excited theorizing, while Zoe just sits there and listens, adding the occasional ‘uh-huh’ here and there. You both had worked out what the twist might be the other week, so you limit yourself to wondering about the characters themselves. That eventually turns into a discussion of ships.

Zoe isn’t much of a shipper, you’ve noticed. She keeps to the margin and analyses everything objectively, acknowledging character interactions but never focusing on them. You were the complete opposite, and a crack shipper to boot, which often clashes against Zoe’s logical side and sparks some amazing debates.

You’re in the middle of one right then when Remy interrupts, knuckles lightly tapping against the door’s side as he peers in, face blank as he looks at the two of you on your respective chairs, cocooned by a blanket, popcorn sitting on your laps. “I’ll never understand what you like so much about that show.”

“Excuse you,” Zoe huffs, angrily grabbing her soda and giving him a sour look. “It’s an amazing show.”

“Amazing!” You echo, as you have done many times before. “I am appalled you don’t see its genius, Remy! Appalled!”

“Right, sure. I remember you both were hysterical over the last cliffhanger. Did you figure out who the murderer is already?”

“Oh yeah,” you wave your hand around, as if dismissing the subject. “Last week. What we are discussing right now is why the prosecutor and the assistant are such a good pairing–” Zoe turns to look at you as if you had just proclaimed the sky was purple, and she looks so baffled you dissolve into a fit of giggles right then and there.

Remy smiles, shaking his head fondly, and stepping out without another word.

“Leaving that atrocious pairing aside…”

Zoe nudges the discussion into another direction and you allow it, satisfied with the reaction you got from her earlier. You’re both stealing anxious glances at the screen, excited to see that only a few minutes are left.

“This is it,” Zoe mutters softly. “The end of this case. The next one is going to be so weird.”

“We’ll probably find out what happen to the firefighter, right? Honestly, it just looks like they got abducted by aliens–”

“MC!” Rings a voice. Zoe scowls immediately, as if that was her standard reaction to Vivienne – or yet another interruption. Probably both.

“Hey babe, where were you?”

Vivienne’s smirk softens at the petname, quietly pleased. “Oh, you know, getting some things ready…”

“Huh? What, for the heist?”

“Something infinitely better.”

“What could be better than the heist?”

Her eyes gleam, dark pools of chocolate drawing you in like a sailor entranced by a siren’s call. “Why don’t you come with me and find out?”

Zoe groans.

“Can you stop being horny for–” her gaze drops quickly to the clock, “–24 minutes? It won’t kill you, will it?”

“You are always invited to join us, darling.”

“Pass.”

“Your loss,” Vivienne says, with a small shrug. “Then, MC–”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure babe, just gimme 24 minutes.”

“Twen– what?” Her eyes follow yours, locking onto the screen. “…Ah. Today is Monday. I forgot.”

“Prepared a whole ‘romantic’ outing for no reason, did you?” Zoe grins. “Sucks to be you.”

A light frown appears over Vivienne’s face. “It’s… only half an hour. I can manage that much.” She finally says, body turning slightly, as if she were on an internal war over leaving and staying.

“Great. You’re making progress, Tang.”

Vivienne rolls her eyes, most of her good mood visibly diminishing. She hesitates a second longer before turning in your direction, pursing her lips. “So– a show. I’m getting cockblocked because of a show.”

“A great show,” both Zoe and you say, nodding solemnly.

“But you already know how it’s going to end. Who the murderer is. MC, you told me that last week!”

“I mean, it’s only a theory Zoe and I have. We still need to see if it gets confirmed.”

“It surely will.” Zoe says, smugly. “The signs are all there. He won’t get away with it. The scarf will be his undoing, no doubt.”

“Wait, you’re still with that? It’s the statue! It’s too fishy! If they check it and–”

“MC, you can’t be serious–” Vivienne tries to interject, but Zoe quickly cuts her off with her own rebuttal to your argument, and the seductress gets this strange look on her face, gaze flicking between the screen, Zoe, and you, stunned for all of two seconds before she shakes her head, schooling her expression.

You distractedly wonder if she’ll leave, your attention quickly taken by the beginning of the opening notes of the show. You enter than zone where nothing else matters, nothing else exists but the screen and you are positively buzzing, mind racing with all the things that could possibly happen until a red blur passes in front of you, something heavy landing so unexpectedly on your lap it takes your breath away.

“Wha–”

“Ow! Hey! Vivienne?!”

It takes you a moment to understand what happened, snapping out of the concentrated state you were a few seconds ago. Vivienne has perched herself on top of your lap, curled there like a smug cat, her arms loosely wrapped around your neck and her gaze is so intense it sets your whole soul alight, consuming every thought you had previously.

You have the same reaction any person would have in this situation, which is, to have a full gay panic.

She– she feels so warm and she’s so close and oh god those eyes–

“Vivienne, what the hell!”

One glance to the right reveals what has Zoe so pissed: Vivienne has her legs high up in her direction, blocking her view of the screen. You don’t even know why she’s so mad, it’s a very nice view–

“The show just began! Are you really that salty?!”

Show? What sh– Ah. That show. Right.

You try to maneuver around Vivienne’s head to look at the computer, but one of Vivienne’s hands instantly grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her with a gentle but firm gesture. Barely, you catch her move her legs to block Zoe too.

“Eyes on me, partner.” She all but purrs, commanding, and your brain short-circuits when she presses herself against you.

“Really? Really?!”

Vivienne gives Zoe her best smoldering smirk. “Oh, I know that look. It’s okay, dear, you can go first… maybe bend me over the table–”

“I’m going to throw you out of the window–”

“Is that your kink, Zoe? Press me against the window, giving everyone full view of–”

“Oh my god–!”

Taking advantage of the situation, you try to peek at the screen again. Vivienne’s grip tightens, making you whimper slightly, her blazing brown eyes meeting yours again.

“Ah ah ah, what did I say? Do not disobey me.”

“Viv…”

“Keep looking at me, sweetheart. If I catch more wandering eyes, you’re going to regret it.”

“Ah… but I…”

Her eyes flash, her thumb tracing the lines of your lips roughly, effectively shutting you up. Vivienne looks pleased, all dark passion, grip softening. She starts tracing a line down to your throat, leaving a trail of tickling heat after the touch.

“Suffering from success, aren’t you, MC?” Zoe dryly states, maneuvering around Vivienne’s outstretched legs with a scowl that could give Nikolai’s a run for his money. She reaches for the back of the moving chair you had borrowed, beginning to push you. Vivienne makes a chocked sound of surprise low in her throat, tightening her hold over your neck. “That’s it. All I want is to watch my show in peace, no interruptions-”

“Um, our show-”

“-and no Vivienne being Vivienne for the next 20 minutes.”

“What am I supposed to be then?”

“Be a doormat for all I care, just do it outside my room!” She punctuates her statement with one final, fully determined push, sending you skidding towards the hallway. Vivienne thrusts her legs to the right, managing to use her weight just so to spin the chair in time. The back collides against the wall with a dull thump, and you barely see Zoe’s deadpan expression before she closes her door. “You better return my chair later!” Is all she says, presumably heading back to her computer.

“…aw, I wanted to see this episode.” You finally mumble, shoulders dropping dejectedly.

Vivienne blinks owlishly at you. “Isn’t the episode going to be available later?”

“Well, yeah, but I’m curious to see how the arrest will go. I don’t think I can wait another day.”

“Arrest. Such an ugly word, when you are a thief.” Vivienne hums, pressing into you just slightly, eyes alight with mirth. “You are quite taken with it regardless… Is it the thrill?”

“Uh…”

“You know, partner, if you want to be in cuffs so much, all you have to do is ask.”

Color spreads over your cheeks like spilled wine, sweet, impossible to hold back. Vivienne leans forward, eager for a taste, that smirk of hers firmly in place and you briefly wonder if you’ll just burst, too filled with surprise and frustration and a little bit of heat.

“Think only about me, MC.” Vivienne mutters, breath ghosting over the skin of your ear, coaxing a shy shiver out of you. The vibrations of her voice send ripples of emotion through you, make you groan slightly. Smirk widening, not caring one bit that you are still on the hallway, one of her hands drops down, down-

“20 minutes! Just 20 minutes!” A flash of gray. Vivienne’s startled squeak. Her grip loosens and she goes tumbling down your lap, the floor receiving her with its cold embrace. Zoe’s door slams shut – again – and your gaze drops, discovering the slipper resting by Vivienne’s hand with an amused snort.

“She got you good, huh?”

“She – just took me by surprise, is all.” Vivienne says, after a pause. You giggle, pushing yourself to your feet and offering her your hand, which she takes gratefully. She doesn’t let go, instead pulling you in the direction of the apartment’s exit, and you throw a longing look in the direction of Zoe’s room before accepting your fate.

You’ll have to watch that episode tomorrow, it seems.

#Anonymous #answered #lovestruck #lovestruck fanfiction #queen of thieves #qot #lovestruck qot #lovestruck queen of thieves #vivienne tang #qot vivienne #zoe banks #qot zoe #zoe being done with vivienne #qot mc #fluff #fluffy #miscellaneous monday

[the-golden-ghost]

Things you said prompt number 17? Feeling like reading a bit of Jigoe angst 😁

17. Things you said that I wish you hadn’t

A lot could change in two months.

Jigen had been living wild since Lupin’s last supposed death (drowning, no body discovered, all of them far too jaded with him now to believe he was truly gone). In Jigen’s case, he probably wouldn’t have believed it even with a body. He knew how conniving Lupin could be. But there’d been no word from him, nothing but rumors of his continued existence on the mortal plane, and now they’d been summoned to one of their most secluded hideouts - not by him, but by Fujiko.

Jigen damn well hoped she knew something he didn’t, because he wasn’t going to work for her. But because she really might know something - and because Jigen was a damned idiot who didn’t know what was good for him - he was here.

It was one of their nicest places, too. Small, on a lakeside, hidden behind some big grassy hills and surrounded for miles by woods. A good place to rest. When they’d been up here together last, Goemon had hung wind chimes and the four of them had planted a garden which was now, as Jigen could see, overrun with weeds, but the chimes were still singing.

He parked his car and sat for a minute. No idea who’d be inside. There were no other vehicles he could see but that didn’t mean the house was empty. He just wasn’t sure he was ready to face any of them.

~

Two months ago Jigen had gotten the news and buried his grief because at this point he was numb to it. Lupin liked to screw around like this - he was magnificent and selfish and saw his own life as a stageplay that the world watched with baited breath. When he died - truly died, he’d assured Jigen long ago - it would be spectacular, the kind of death that shook the world to its core and that people would immortalize in song and story for centuries upon centuries to come.

Drowning wasn’t it, so Lupin was coming back. Probably. Either way that wound had cauterized itself long ago, for Jigen. It wouldn’t do any good to grab Lupin by the throat and demand what he couldn’t give. It didn’t seem to matter that Jigen got shaken to the core every single fucking time but Jigen was just one man, and he didn’t know how to write stories. So on it went.

Goemon was different. After the news came they’d stood together with their bags packed, ready to separate for an uncertain amount of time, and Jigen, shaken, had turned to the one man he loved who he was certain was still breathing and offered himself. What did a samurai need with a partner? Apparently nothing, because Goemon had refused his service and left. And it was that simple refusal that had been grating on Jigen since they’d seen each other last, because somehow, in his infinite stupidity, he’d thought Goemon cared enough about him to want to stick together. Somehow he’d made that mistake.

But no. Jigen was a man who faltered without someone to ride beside, but Goemon worked just fine alone.

~

After two months living city to city in and out of dives and the seediest motels money could buy, it was strange to be in a place with wind chimes. It felt like a waking dream, like none of this was quite real, or maybe it was just the scotch messing with his head. Didn’t matter. The door was unlocked and Jigen walked in with a rush of apprehension.

Nobody. The place was clean and empty and abandoned.

“Fujiko?” he asked to no one. She’d called them, so she should be here. But apparently not. “Lupin?” he called, more hesistant now. If Lupin were to truly just show up like this, casually, as if Jigen’s life were just an intermission he could stroll into whenever he felt like it - Jigen would probably shoot him dead right there and just get the inevitable over with. But he was still gone.

“Goemon?” He wasn’t here either. That made it easier. He shuffled off to the kitchen to get himself another drink and then slumped on the couch for a nap. The drive up here had been way too long.

~

Jigen awoke with a start in the early evening to find that he was no longer alone, that there was a shadow hovering by the window. He scrambled up; taking in through his dazed and blurry vision who it was. “Goemon?” he asked.

“It’s me.”

In spite of the rage and bitterness that he’d been clinging to for the past two months in a desperate bid to keep from collapsing, Jigen’s heart still pulled towards Goemon. Soft as he was, he would have forgiven Goemon for that abandonment. He would have forgiven him for anything.

Anything except for what he did a moment later, which was to recoil when Jigen approached him. “Jigen? Where have you been living?”

“Around,” Jigen said, taken aback by the reaction, his anger slowly rising. Damn him, he didn’t even want to go through a proper greeting? Even now? “Why? Do you care?”

Goemon studied Jigen for a long moment before looking away. “You look terrible. I would not doubt you haven’t even been trying to take care of yourself. Why didn’t stay in one of the safe houses? Lupin would not have denied you that.”

In truth, Jigen hadn’t stayed because it would have been hell on earth. Living day to day, alone in one of those empty half-homes with way too many memories per square inch but no people in sight. He couldn’t take it. Jigen needed cites; that impersonal human contact where no one knew you from Adam and didn’t give a shit in hell about you but where you were never isolated, never cut off from the world. There was security in living like a rat in a wall.

He didn’t say any of that to Goemon, though. Instead he decided to opt for something much nastier. “Maybe I just like living in filth. Guess we can’t all be as honorable and perfect as you, can we? Where were you? Wait - I can guess - training yourself up so you can get a better gig and stop associating with mangy dogs like me.”

Goemon’s gaze flickered angrily but he kept calm. “I have been training,” he said coolly. “And you are drunk by the sound of it. Not that I’m surprised.”

Jigen’s rage flared up again, in full force. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean? You’re not surprised? What, you want to fight me? I’ll show you how fucking drunk I am.”

Goemon didn’t move, nor did he make a motion to draw his sword. “I did not come here to fight anyone, least of all you. I came here because Fujiko sent for me.”

“Yeah? Well fuck Fujiko. Fuck her and fuck you. I’m out.”

He made it twenty miles back towards where he’d come from before he realized he hadn’t put gas in the car, ran out, toyed briefly with sleeping in the ditch on the side of the road, thought better of it, and began the long hike back to the house. He made it in by 1 am and collapsed onto the couch, too exhausted for words.

~

In the morning Jigen wasn’t mad anymore. Mostly because he felt like he’d been run over by a truck. Just didn’t have the energy, but more than that, he felt guilty about taking his losses out on Goemon. It wasn’t Goemon’s fault Jigen couldn’t survive two measly months flying solo without having a complete breakdown. Goemon had tucked himself away in the bedroom and wasn’t coming out. Fujiko was nowhere to be seen, still, and Lupin... who knew.

Jigen sat around for a while and smoked and wished he hadn’t come. But he had come, and he’d screwed things up, so. Over to the bedroom door he went, and knocked.

“Hey,” he asked hoarsely, opening the door a little. “You still mad?”

There was no reply, which meant the answer was probably yes.

“Cause... look, man, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about every stupid half-assed thing I said to you last night. And I didn’t mean a word of it. I just wanted to fight somebody and you were the only one here.”

Still silence.

“But that doesn’t make it right.”

No response.

“I’m comin’ in,” Jigen said finally. He wasn’t immediately sliced in half, so that was a good sign at least. Goemon was sitting on the bed, facing away from the door, deathly still and silent. “Goemon? Please look at me.”

Goemon did not. For all that, Jigen might have been invisible.

He took a step closer. “Look, I don’t care what you say to me,” he said between shaking breaths. “I don’t friggin’ care, Goemon. You can cuss me out if you want. You can say whatever you want to me - you can call me the lowest, dirtiest, most pathetic damn bastard you’ve ever met in your entire life. I don’t give a shit, I know what I am, I just - “ he broke off, pleading. “Just hold me, Goemon, for fuck’s sake I just need you right now, and -”

The words struck home. Goemon turned, looking startled, and reached out to Jigen. For a long while they clung to each other, squeezing tight, Jigen burying his face against Goemon’s neck, twining his fingers through his hair, and Goemon gripping Jigen around the waist and running a hand down his back, over and over.

“Did I hurt you? Bad?” Jigen asked finally, settling down on the bed next to Goemon, who, by some miracle, didn’t pull away, even when Jigen leaned against his shoulder.

“Nothing that I cannot survive. I’ve been training, remember,” Goemon said softly. “And you’re sure you’re all right? You don’t look well.”

“I feel like shit, but it’s just part of the territory. I’ll get better,” Jigen said.

“Good. I was worried about you, you know. While I was alone I was able to improve myself - I hope to be strong enough now to keep you and Fujiko safe at all costs. But I knew that the price was that I had to leave you alone for that time.”

“Well, I’ve been alone before,” Jigen said nonchalantly. “It’s okay. I’m used to it. It was kind of fun not having to do the dishes or listen to Lupin’s chatter.”

“I miss Lupin’s chatter,” Goemon replied.

“Yeah,” Jigen said sadly. “I do too.” They sat for a moment, united in loss. “Hey, Goemon?” Jigen asked after a minute. “Can we forget about yesterday? I’d rather just start over.”

Goemon sighed. “Yes, I think that would be best.”

The rest could come later. Fujiko’s plan, Lupin’s revival. For now, the two of them simply rested, side by side, for the remainder of the morning. They had a lot of catching up to do.

#Lupin III #my writing #me: this'll be short #it: isn't #anyway sometimes I think about how Lupin's penchant for treating his own life like a Grand Performance #leads to him inadvertently using his friends as unwilling extras and how that's going to affect them #I touched on that here but that's also not really what this is about I just think it's fucked up but in an Intriguing way #anyway I hope this passes inspection! you said you wanted angst so I went for it #Jigen and Goemon sometimes badly miscommunicate. they're rather guarded emotionally (but who's NOT on this damn show) #but they're also pretty willing to forgive and understand each other #so I gave them a softer ending

[valeriethepussycats]

Inside Out

Chapter 1

Pairing- Loki x Reader

Warning- cursing

Your thoughts and other characters are in italics. Flashbacks are in bold.

“Long before the birth of light there was darkness, and from that darkness, came the Dark Elves. Millennia ago, the most ruthless of their kind, Malekith, sought to transform our universe back into one of eternal night”

Malekith is looking up at the Convergence

“Such evil was possible through the power of the Aether, an ancient force of infinite destruction.”

The Aether.

“The noble armies of Asgard, led by my father, King Bor, waged a mighty war against these creatures.”

The Dark Elves and Asgardians fighting.

Kurse walks up to Malekith. “Malekith! Asgard's forces are upon us.”

The Bifrost opens, and bor steps out with Asgardian reinforcements.

“Send the Kursed.” Malekith told Kurse.

Some soldiers crush objects in their hands and become giant hulk-like creatures. Malekith looks up at the Convergence again.

“As the Nine Worlds converged above him, Malekith could at last unleash the Aether...”

Malekith and Kurse walk up to the Aether.

However, the Bifrost opens and Asgardian warriors attack Malekith, whom he kills. The Bifrost disappears, just as Malekith tries to get the Aether, but it is no longer there.

“But Asgard ripped the weapon from his grasp. Without it, the Dark Elves fell. With the battle all but lost, Malekith sacrificed his own people in a desperate attempt to lay waste to Asgard's army.”

Malekith watches as his forces are slaughtered. “Their deaths will mean our survival. This war is far from over.” He and Kurse get onto his ship and escape without notice, while destroying the other ships in the process.

The ships kill some of the Asgardians.

“Malekith was vanquished, and the Aether was no more. Or so we were led to believe.”

“Sire, the Aether. Shall we destroy it?”

“If only we could. But its power is too great. Bury it deep. Somewhere no one

will ever find it.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Earth, New York City

Wow! A lot has happened in the past couple of years for Y/n. She met an Alien/God, saved New York from an alien invasion, found out she has a soulmate who caused said invasion, and last but not least finding Gambit. Even though these last years had its up and downs. Y/n hadn’t been this happy in a long time, and spending time with Gambit is the cause of that. Spending time with him just make everything better it makes her miss Loki less (even though she didn’t get to spend that much time him). Now She was now walking down the street with Gambit eating ice cream in the middle of November.

“You met my mother. How that happened?” Y/n said taking a spoon full of her ice cream.

“The good professor wanted information on you.” Gambit answered.

“Charles Xavier knew about me and my where abounds this entire time.” Y/n said with an eye roll. “Apparently him and my father have an understanding with each other.”

“Your mother...she didn’t know you existed.” Gambit stated.

Of course she didn’t Charles fucked with her mind too what a big surprise

“Well that still doesn’t change the fact that she abandon me.” She said in a dry tone.

“You gave me a chance....you trusted me to protect you and I couldn’t.” Gambit said with a sad grimace.

Y/n to turns and looks at Gambit. “You did your best. You didn’t abandon me. Ya you could’ve call to let me know you weren’t dead but I wasn’t your responsibility. Those people were after her, and she didn’t want to get caught so she left me behind.” Y/n stated. “You gave me to my father so I could be safe so I wouldn’t be used by The Thieves Guild like you was. You protective me. You’ll always be my hero.....no matter what you say.”

Y/n turns away from Gambit and started to walk away. As she approaches the cross walk she hears a voice being broadcasted in her mind.

Please no!

“Someone is in trouble.” Y/n claimed.

“What?” Gambit mumbled.

Where are you

Oh my god

Where are you

In the alleyway behind the Barbecue Restaurants just off Main Street

Y/n takes off running to Ray’s bbq leaving Gambit in her dust. When she arrives in the alleyway and doesn’t see anyone.

Hello are you here

“Thank you for coming.”

Y/n turns around and see five Einherjar Guards. “Ummmm.Hello.”

“We are the Einherjar Guards of Asgard and our king wishes to speak with you on the behalf of Prince Loki Odinson.”

“What?”

“The king would like-“

“No no I get that but why.” Y/n said to herself.

Gambit catches up to Y/n and see her with a group of guards. “Petit? What’s happening.”

“I’m being summoned by the king of Asgard.” Y/n said with a small smile.

“A king!! The king of Asgard.” Gambit finished with a gaping jaw.

I get to go to Asgard!

“Look I have no problem coming but I’m kind of in the middle of something.” Y/n voiced.

“This is important the fate of Prince Loki rest in your hands.” Einherjar Guard said not trying to be pushy.

“Fate.....I thought Loki would have been went to trial.” Y/n turns and looks at Gambit.

“l..l hav-“

“No...no it’s find go I know how important he is to you.” Gambit said with a smile.

“But just find your way back Ya.”

Y/n is about to walks over to them when a thought runs though her mind. “How about you come with me?”

“Invitation is only for you.” Einherjar Guard chimed in.

“I see that but I’m just a mere mortal I wouldn’t be comfortable being on a world without someone who can relate to me.” Y/n said artfully. “Would you want to be on a world all by yourself?”

Einherjar Guards look at each other in confusion

“Or someone is going to have to tell the king that they could get a mere mortal to comply.” Y/n said with a smirk.

“He can come but he will be watched.” Einherjar Guard agreed.

“You heard em lets go.” Y/n said as she pulls Gambit and they stand next to the guards.

“Uhhh. What’s happening??” Gambit said with a curious tone.

“Heimdall open the Bi-Frost!” Einherjar Guard shouted.

“This is going to be fun!!” Y/n said In a giggling way.

Gambit looks over at her and could see the excitement in Y/n’s eyes. “What is about-“

Suddenly Bifrost opens! A portal surrounds them In an instant, they're gone.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Upon emerge from the Bifrost, Y/n and Gambit looks around at the Observatory.

“Woo-hoo...let’s do that again.” Y/n proclaimed.

“No I’m gonna need a bucket.” Gambit grunted.

“Y/n L. Munroe and....Remy E. LeBeau I am Heimdall The gatekeeper of Asgard.” Heimdall announced.

“Hi....” Gambit and Y/n said in-sink.

“You are a friend of Thor. He has told me much about you.”

“I wish I can say the same.” Y/n said with a smile.

“If you follow the guards they will lead you to the Castle.”

“Thanks.” Gambit said walks with the guard.

“Heimdall...I was hoping I could come back here.”

“What for?” Heimdall asked.

“Well I would love to hear all your stories, being able to see everything in the universe....thats kind of wicked.” Y/n answered.

“Of course you can.”

Y/n smiles at Heimdall then catches up Gambit and whispered. “Do you think I look ok to meet a king.” Y/n was wearing a Navy blue crewneck cable knit with some light blue jeans and white air force 1.

“Petit, you look fine don’t worry about it.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Throne Room

Loki is in chains, as he gets brought to Odin.

“Loki.” Frigga said in a began.

“Hello, mother. Have I made you proud?” Loki asked

“Please, don't make this worse.” Frigga said with a calm voice.

“Define worse.” Loki said in a casual tone.

“Enough! I will speak to the prisoner alone.” Odin proclaimed.

With one last look Frigga walks out the throne Room.

Loki looks up at Odin and laughs. “I really don't see what all the fuss is about.”

“Do you not truly feel the gravity of your crimes? Wherever you go there is war, ruin and death.” Odin voiced.

“I went down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent god. Just like you.” Loki expressed with a shrugged.

“We are not gods. We are born, we live, we die. Just as humans do.” Odin specified.

“Give or take 5000 years.” Loki sarcastically remarked.

Odin: “All this because Loki desires a throne.” Odin put forth.

“It is my birthright.” Loki voiced.

“Your birthright was to die!!!....” Odin shouted. “.....As a child. Cast out onto a frozen rock. If I had not taken you in you would not be here now to hate me.”

“If I am for the axe, then for mercy's sake, just swing it. It's not that I don't love our little talks, it's just ... I don't love them.” Loki said perpetually tired voice.

Odin tap the Gungnir on the ground and the doors open. Loki looks back back at the doors to see who could possibly coming in.

“Are we to wait on Thor?” Loki questioned.

“No Thor has nothing to do with this......” Odin started. “This is about someone else. That you are not worthy of.”

Wow this place looks so amazing

“Do you still want the Axe?” Odin wondered.

Loki looks over at Odin with wide eye then turns around and see Robin she looks just as he remembered her. Breathtaking.

“Loki!!” Y/n called out.

Loki can tell she’s happy to see him, she had a broad grin on her face despite him being in chains. “Y/n.” Loki said with darted a suspicious glance at Odin. “What is the meaning of this!?

When Y/n reached Loki she stands next to him and looks up at Odin.

Should I bow

You Bow to no one

Y/n looks over at Loki with a quizzical smile and all she gets back is a coy smile.

She turns back to Odin smiling to herself.

“I brought Y/n here to say goodbye to you.” Odin said in A calm voice.

“Goodbye..why would I need to say goodbye.....is he getting-“ Y/n said in rapid blinking and shaking her head ‘no’.

“You brought Y/n here to spite me......how do you even-“ Loki fumed.

“Frigga told me a long time ago, when you was just a boy.” Odin explained. “And Frigga is the only reason you are still alive and you will never see her again. You will spend the rest of your days in the dungeons.”

“I thought he was going to die.” Y/n said like a weight was lifted off her shoulders, but then a relief is quickly replaced by anguish. “If you were going to do this then why do you bring me here? You should’ve left me on earth, instead of bringing me here when you’re just going to but him in the dungeons for the rest of his life.”

My life

Loki looks over at Y/n with knitted brows. “Y/n....”

“I know what Loki did on earth is unforgivable but-“ Y/n started.

“Did he or did he not kill someone close to you?” Odin asked.

“Yes he did and I kick his ass and my father brought him back.” Y/n answered.

“Your father.” Loki looks over at Y/n with his brows pulled together in a frown.

“Ant....Boot.” Y/n said teasing Loki softly.

“Oh.” Loki said with a blank stare and a paled face.

“Does he deserves punishment or not ?” Odin chimed in.

“Yes but-“

“Then it’s decided-“

“No. No. This can’t be the last time I’ll see him.”

Loki looks over at Y/n and see that black veins slowly starting to appear on the side of her neck.

Y/n, what is the matter

Nothing, I’m fine

“Let me have two weeks with him here on Asgard.” Y/n said not wanting to sound pushy.

“Giving you two weeks with Loki would give him happiness-“

“I’ll be in the dungeons with him.” Y/n said meaning the words more seriously than they sounded.

“You would do that.....” Odin said in curious tone. “.....for Loki?”

“Yes I would.” Y/n said firm persistence.

“Hmm.” With tap of the Gungnir, the doors open.

As the Einherjar Guards come in the throne room and takes Loki and they struggle to get him to leave.

“And what of Thor? You'll make that witless oaf king while I rot in chains?” Loki said with a rigid expression.

“Thor must strife to undo the damage you have done. He will bring order to the nine realms and then, yes. He will be king. “ Odin answered.

Loki looks at Odin and then Y/n as he gets drag away, then Odin looks over at Y/n.

“You can have your two weeks.” Odin announced. “You do not have to be in the dungeons with him.”

Y/n turns her head quickly to look at Odin. “What? why would you just-“

“Do you not want it?” Odin snapped.

Yes..yes I do thank you.” Y/n said sincerely.

“Frigga” Odin calls out for his wife.

Frigga walks into the throne. “Well if it isn’t Y/n Munroe, l am Frigga Queen of Asgard.”

Y/n turns around and see the Queen of Asgard. “Hello.”

Wow she is so beautiful

Frigga approached and took Y/n’s hand in hers and looks at her with a sweet smile. “We have so much to talk about.” Frigga said as she led Y/n away out.

“You are even more beautiful then I thought.” Frigga said with a voice soft with affection.

“No you are.” Y/n said with out missing a beat.

Frigga laughs. “Is this Midgard attire.” Frigga said with one hand spin Y/n around to see her full outfit.

“Oh yes it is.”

“It’s lovely your practically glowing like the morning sun my dear.” Frigga said with a smile.

“Thank you.” Y/n said returning he smile.

“Come dear there’s much we must do.”

Meanwhile Loki watches Frigga and Y/n walking and talking, unaware of the horrors that were occurring several stories below his feet.

“I can’t remember the last time Loki or Thor brought a friend home to meet us,” Frigga said to Y/n . “When a young man brings a young woman home to meet his parents…” Frigga began, implying a possible marriage between Y/n and Loki.

“Technically, I think we have only known each other for a month.” Y/n said, surprised to be having this conversation so soon.

“And if it were three million years, would that change how you feel?” Frigga asked.

Y/n thought on this.

It wouldn’t change one thing.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

“Beautiful golden sunlight shined down through the lush, vibrant forests of Vanaheim. Unlike Svartalfheim, the realm of Vanaheim was much more pleasant an environment. It was home to beautiful lakes and mountains, with vast fields of green spread out as far as the eye could see. But today, it was filled with danger and destruction.

The people of Vanaheim—known throughout the Nine Realms as the Vanir—raced through the forests as fast as they could. They were being chased by the Marauders, a race of space pirates—brutal invaders who were armed to the teeth and out for blood. Their sole purpose in life was to take what was not theirs, and destroy anything—and anyone—that stood in their way.

A frightened Vanir woman ran for her life but stumbled, falling down a riverbank just as a Marauder fired a massive fireball. It streaked above her head, impacting a nearby tree and causing it to burst into flames. As the woman regained her footing, she was confronted by a towering Marauder. He raised his razor-sharp ax, ready to strike, when suddenly a steel mace smashed the villain in the face, knocking him down, and knocking him out.

“Standing over the frightened woman was her savior—Hogun the Grim, of the famous Warriors Three. Hogun did not wait for a thank you, nor did he want one. The Marauders were running rampant across his home world, and Hogun was determined to stop them.

As more Vanir ran to safety, Hogun stood his ground—the only barrier between the fierce oncoming Marauders and the peaceful Vanir. The Asgardian warrior gripped his mace tightly and steeled himself, ready for what just might be the last battle of his life. With a skull-shattering roar, the Marauders charged, determined to crush Hogun and the rest of the Vanir people.

The lead Marauder raised his broadsword and swung, but his blade was deflected by another sword—the sword belonging to Fandral the Dashing, the second member of the mighty Warriors Three! Fandral, still handsome as ever despite the battle, rode through the charging Marauders on his white horse, knocking down one intruder after another until he was able to make his way to Hogun, flashing a smile the entire way.

“Do we have a plan?” Fandral asked his fellow Warrior as he flipped the lead Marauder off his horse and tossed.

“We stand and fight!” Hogun the Grim yelled.

Fandral rolled his eyes at his friend’s single-minded determination to fight. Then a loud Boom, Boom, Boom echoed throughout the trees. Fandral, Hogun, and the rest of the Vanir stopped in their tracks and turned their attention toward the deafening noise. It was coming from beyond the woods, and whatever was making the noise was big. Very big. The ground shook and trees fell with each sound as the unseen threat got closer and closer.

The Vanir did not follow Hogun’s orders to stay and fight, but instead quickly retreated into the woods. The idea also crossed Fandral’s mind.

“Have you considered ‘turn and run’?” Fandral asked, but Hogun only frowned in response. Then the grim warrior looked up and over the tree line and began to back away as well. Finding a Marauder’s horse without its rider, Hogun swung up into the saddle and galloped away. Fandral was close behind as explosions rang out throughout the woods. There would be time enough to fight later.

The two warriors quickly rode their horses into a clearing where the Marauders were fighting with a few of Asgard’s elite guards, the Einherjar, who had come to help the Vanir. Hogun and Fandral stopped before one of their Asgardian compatriots, the strong and beautiful Lady Sif, who was just as brave and tough as the Warriors Three.

Sif was on horseback, locked in furious battle with a dozen or so Marauders. Sif spun her bladed spear high over her head, taking down several of the barbarians, then split the spear in two, forming a magnificent blade for each hand.

Sif fought with fierce determination against the horde, but despite her resolve, she was gravely outnumbered. With all her might, she flipped off of her horse and delivered a powerful kick to one of the Marauders, sending him flying back past the third member of the Warriors Three, Volstagg the Voluminous.

“Volstagg—on your left!” Sif cried.

Without missing a beat, Volstagg swung his battle-ax at his attacker, striking him down with one fell swoop. And when another Marauder tried to attack him with a club, the voluminous one merely took the hit, then turned, broke the club in two, and backhanded the Marauder, sending him flying through the air. But all of this nonstop battling was beginning to take its toll on the excessively large warrior. Now out of breath, Volstagg made his way to a giant pile of timber where he could take a momentary break.

“What are you doing?” Sif yelled. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Here they were in a heated battle with villains known for decimating anything in their path, and one of the legendary Warriors Three was taking a breather.

“Giving them a moment…to regroup…only fair…” Volstagg said between long, labored breaths.

But no sooner did Volstagg stop to catch his breath than another horde of Marauders set their sights on the large warrior. They ran at him with their weapons drawn, but Volstagg merely kicked out the timber, causing it to collapse on and crush the approaching horde.

Volstagg gave himself a congratulatory grin, but it was short-lived, for just as he did, he was slashed across the back by a Marauder. He wasn’t as unstoppable or impenetrable as he thought. Nearby, Lady Sif wasn’t faring too much better. She was surrounded, and a Marauder from across the battlefield was aiming his crossbow at her head.

Just as the snickering Marauder was about to squeeze the trigger, a huge thunderclap echoed throughout the land, and with a bright, blinding light, the Bifrost—the way in which Asgardians traveled between the realms—fired down from the heavens into the center of the battlefield—and directly on top of the Marauder with the crossbow. Lady Sif raised her arm to shield her eyes from the spectacular blinding light and was just barely able to make out two Einherjar on horseback bursting from the glowing white column and charging into battle.

One of the Marauders used this commotion to sneak up behind Volstagg. He raised his sword high above his head, preparing to strike down the warrior, when a whizzing sound echoed from within the Bifrost. As the light died down and the smoke began to clear, the sound intensified. Suddenly, an object rocketed out of the Bifrost, sliced across the battlefield at supersonic speed, and slammed into its target: the Marauder who was about to strike down Volstagg.

The Marauder flew through the air and kept on flying. And flying. Volstagg turned, and upon investigation made out the object that had saved his life. It was the most famous weapon in all the Nine Realms. It was Mjolnir.”

The powerful hammer, which was forged in the heart of a dying star and used by only he who is worthy, hovered in midair before speeding back across the battlefield to the hand of its wielder—the mighty Thor!

Thor, Prince of Asgard and son of Odin Allfather, emerged from the light of the Bifrost looking battle-worn but still majestic, and the sight of him instantly gave the Warriors Three, the Einherjar, and the Vanir a renewed sense of hope. Now that Thor was here, they were sure to defeat the Marauders. But Lady Sif felt that she didn’t need Thor’s help to win the day.

“Shouldn’t you be battling trolls in Nornheim?” Sif said with a scowl.

“I ran out of trolls,” Thor said with a charming smile. “Heimdall said these Marauders were giving you trouble,” he added.

“I have this completely under control,” Sif retorted.

Thor surveyed the battlefield. “Is that why everything is on fire?”

“You think you can do better?” Sif challenged with a smile.

“It would be a challenge to do worse,” Thor said dryly before being surprise-attacked by two extra-big and extra-tough Marauders. Sif rolled her eyes in response, then joined her friend in battle.

Soon, Thor and Sif were joined by Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg. As the battle raged on, Thor used Mjolnir to take out multiple Marauders at once. And when one Marauder thought he might be able to seize the hammer by grabbing on to it, the hammer simply pulled the invader through the air, right to Thor’s waiting fist.

Thor, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three fought bravely against the menacing Marauders, each one helping their fellow Asgardians. When one Marauder shot an arrow at Thor’s head, Sif jumped into the air and raised her shield to block the attack. And when another fired a rocket launcher–like device, Thor valiantly deflected the blast with his mighty hammer, the impact from which knocked them all to the ground—hard.

“As the Asgardians got back to their feet, they heard the same Boom, Boom, Boom sound that Fandral and Hogun had heard earlier. Whatever it was that was making that sound was much closer now. And the Marauders were getting ready for it. They parted the battlefield to make way, and the heroes looked up over the tree line and finally saw the cause of the sound.”

“A giant Kronan stone monster, made entirely of rock and standing fifteen feet tall, loomed before Thor and the Warriors Three. He held a massive metal club and looked down upon the Asgardians with contempt. The monster was about to crush their bones into dust.

“All yours,” Sif said to Thor as she and the Warriors Three began to back away. The Marauders cheered. This was the fight they had been waiting for! Surely nothing could stop their stone man, not even the Mighty Thor. The rock monster smashed his club into the ground and let out a thunderous roar, signaling the start of the battle.”

“I accept your surrender,” Thor said, but the monster only raised its club higher, preparing to strike. But Thor was ready. Holding Mjolnir by the strap, Thor began to spin his hammer. It spun faster and faster and faster until it was nothing but a blur and Thor was rocketed off the ground in flight. The monster roared again as Thor, flying with his arm outstretched and all the might of Mjolnir in front of him, launched himself directly at the great beast. There was a deafening Choom as the hammer connected with the creature, then a blinding explosion. The Marauders looked up in disbelief and their cheering stopped. Chunks of rock rained from the sky as the monster’s feet stumbled backward, disconnected from its body, which no longer existed. The upper half of the stone man had been completely obliterated by Thor.

“The Son of Odin gripped Mjolnir tightly and turned with a scowl toward the rest of the Marauders. Almost in union, the remaining Marauders dropped their weapons and raised their hands in surrender. The battle was over.

“Next time we should just start with the big one,” Fandral said with a smile.”

#loki x black reader #loki x y/n #loki x reader #loki x black!reader #thor x reader #thor x jane

[egcdeath]

a blip in the reader-verse

chapter 2: white picket fence

previous chapter

chapter summary: you learn a bit more about the situation at hand, and gain a sliver of hope for the future

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: angst, but a temporary happy ending

word count: 1.9k

author’s note: hopefully the trajectory of this fic will make a little more sense after this chapter, and the next. all feedback and reblogs are appreciated & let me know if you’d like to be added to the story’s tag list!

A breeze blew by idly, shaking the flowers that surrounded you in the field just slightly. You seemed to be lost in your own head, relaxing on your back and basking in the serenity of watching the sunrise. The soft crunch of footsteps approaching alerted you of someone else’s presence, and you moved your gaze to follow the sound.

You were shocked at the vision of your lover, although he seemed to be a frequent subject of your thoughts and dreams these days. Still, you gasped out, “Steve?”

“Y/N,” he responded excitedly, nearly sliding in an attempt to sit down next to you.

“How did you find me here?” your brows furrowed as you looked at the man, something a bit off about his presence.

“You know that I’d find you anywhere,” he told you, looking over at you as you shook your head, and turned your away from him.

“Then why did you leave?” You asked, biting back bitter tears. “You promised me that you’d never leave,” you muttered with a wobble in your voice.

He reached a calloused hand out to your face, and gently turned it back towards him. “I’m so sorry. I made a really big mistake, an-and now I can’t get back. I’m gonna try to find you, but you have to help me.”

“You’re just my brain telling me what I want to hear,” you whimpered, sitting up.

“No Y/N, it’s me. Really me. It’s so hard to explain, but I messed up really bad. I need you to try to find me too. But I don’t even know if we’re in the same universe anymore.”

You gave Steve a strange look at this point, wiping your face with the back of your hand and huffing softly. This did seem a bit far fetched for your subconscious to conjure up on its own.

A loud and sharp sound interrupted your thoughts, and in an instant, the field of flowers began to fade into obscurity, daffodils and pink tulips turning to nothing more than smudges of pastels against a similarly smudged pale sunrise.

Yet through the dissolving of the dream, and the distorted noise of what you could only assume was your alarm clock, Steve remained. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. “I just want to be with you again. Please,” he paused, “bring me back home.” He begged, “back to you,” he pleaded before vanishing as well.

—

You woke up in a pool of your own sweat, your phone’s alarm ringing obnoxiously, as you used one hand to turn it off, and another to dry the steady stream of tears that had escaped your eyes at some point during your rest.

You had to admit, that was a rather bizarre dream. You’d had your fair share of dreams about Steve since his departure, yet none as vivid as this. Although it was just a dream, it felt like something more. A message, even. You grabbed your phone, and rushed to type in a recap of the event into your notes app, before rubbing the rest of the sleep out of your eyes, and heading out to the kitchen of the Compound to find someone else to confide in.

Lo and behold, Banner stood in the kitchen steeping a cup of green tea.

“Morning, Y/N. How’d you sleep?” He asked, taking a sip of the drink, before taking a seat at the dining table.

You chuckled softly to yourself, and approached the Nespresso machine, “That’s a great question. I guess I slept fine, but Steve was there.”

“Again?” Bruce questioned, setting down his mug.

“Yeah, but it was kind of different. He basically told me that he was stuck and needed me to help him,” you popped a pod into the machine, then slid your own mug under the spout.

“That is different,” Bruce agreed. “What do you think is going on in that brain of yours?”

“No idea. It was just so weird, because he told me that he thinks he’s in a completely different universe. Uh, he was just being vague about some mistake he’d made.”

“Hmm,” Bruce grumbled pensively while the sound of your coffee pouring also filled your ears “What do you think happened? Weird dream, or meaningful dream?”

You shrugged hopelessly, then looked down at the floor as Natasha entered the room. “Morning, assholes,” she greeted, shuffling over to where you were standing by the counter, and giving you a classic Nat half hug upon seeing your bloodshot eyes, indicating another tumultuous night. “How’re you holding up, babe?”

You simply shrugged again in response, grabbing your now filled mug, and setting it down on the counter.

“She had another dream about him,” Bruce informed Nat.

“You poor thing,” she said genuinely, despite her words’ sarcastic nature. As you sat down at the counter seats, Nat began to make her own drink. “I know you guys were close, but it might be time to let go. You need closure, and maybe allowing yourself to grieve will help you to not dream about him so often.”

You stared down into the dark liquid, and frowned as you saw a hint of your unkempt reflection. “Yeah, you’re right. But I’m worried. What he was saying in my dream was basically a cry for help. I know, it could just be me projecting, but it just felt so real…” your voice trailed off, and you glanced up to see Bruce and Natasha sharing a concerned look.

“You guys think I’m crazy don’t you? Great. Fine. I’m gonna go train,” You muttered, grabbing your mugs handle and slipping out of your seat before leaving the kitchen. You couldn’t stand being judged in that moment. Was a little support from your friends too much to ask for?

——

Aware that your teammates didn’t believe the weight of your dreams, you seeked out Wanda, and practically begged her to read your memories and relay them back to the team as a way to gain another witness, and possibly get Steve the help that he might need.

If Steve was truly trapped in another universe, perhaps the scientists on the team could create technology that could help bring him back.

As you’d expected, Wanda giving her testimony on what she’d seen in your subconscious to your teammates had helped your case significantly. Although a bit hesitant, Tony and Bruce were desperate to get Steve back, and if it meant going on a wild goose chase, they were open to taking that risk.

Sooner than later, a small watch was created that seemed to be able to harbor the ability to jump into different universes throughout the multiverse.

You were sitting in the common room, playing a game of chess with Thor, when the trifecta of Tony, Bruce, and Wanda approached you with a small device that appeared to be some sort of smart watch.

“Y/N, you’re going on a mission,” Tony began. “We have good reason to believe that Steve is in fact, in some other universe somewhere in the multiverse. We have no idea how he contacted you, but if your connection to him is strong enough that he can talk to you in your dreams, there’s not a doubt, well, maybe like three doubts, in my mind that you can find him in a different universe.” The watch was passed into your hand.

“Some things we’ve figured out through a few practice runs is that in these universes, you already kind of technically exist. You may have to try to come up with certain memories on the spot, but for the most part, you should remember what your life is like in that universe as soon as you get there, and fit right in.

Now, the time that you can stay varies in each universe. For some, it’s a long time. Maybe even years. But in others, you might only be able to stay for a matter of minutes. It really just depends on how time works in their reality. About thirty seconds before you’re automatically sent to a different reality, you’ll get a little vibration on your wrist that’ll tell you it’s time to go.

If you need to leave before that vibration, there’s a setting that allows you to do so. You can also come back to this specific universe anytime you need to, but we’re under the impression that it’ll take less of an overall toll on you if you just go straight from one universe to the next.” Bruce added.

“Remember, your mission is to find Steve and bring him back, okay? There are infinite amounts of universes out there, so there are infinite versions of Steve you might come across. Please don’t bring whoever else you might fall in love with back here,” Wanda teased. “We don’t need any more trouble with the time and universe cops.”

You chuckled stiffly, but were trying to really absorb the information you’d just been loaded with.

“You can leave whenever you’re ready. Right now, tonight, a week. Whenever, okay?” Bruce told you, and you simply nodded. “Alright. Safe travels, okay?”

“Yeah. Thank you guys, seriously.”

“You think we’re doing this for you? We want our Capsicle back!” Tony teased. You shook your head fondly, then exited the room, going to your bedroom for some peace and quiet, and to attempt to process everything you’d just heard.

You wrapped the watch band across your wrist, then scrolled up and down the interface, surprised at everything it could do. Yet,  before you could even say ‘wow,’ the world seemed to fade to black.

——

When you opened your eyes, you were standing in the same field outside of the compound that you’d been standing in just a few days prior, reliving the final moments you’d shared with Steve.

Except, Steve wasn’t the one standing on the platform. In fact, Steve was standing next to you, his hand squeezing yours in the comforting manner that you’d grown to know over the past six years. The both of you watched Thor wave a friendly goodbye, then disappear into thin air.

You were at a loss for words. It felt like a do-over more than anything else, but you tried not to get ahead of yourself and mess anything else in the universe up, in an attempt not to cause another butterfly effect..

“This is all finally gonna be over,” Steve said, pulling his hand away from yours, so he could wrap his arm around you tightly. “All of this pain and suffering, all of the stress from those Goddamn stones.”

You nodded wordlessly, in a bit of shock from seeing the man that appeared to be your Steve, and feeling his comforting touch after what had felt like a lifetime without it.

“Maybe we can finally start over. Move into the suburbs, have a few kids, the whole white picket fence,” he sighed softly, imagining an ideal future with you beside him.

You nodded, barely being able to think with the overstimulation of being in Steve’s presence. All you could do was inhale deeply into Steve’s chest, and ignore the soft vibration on your wrist, alerting you of your departure. “I love you Steve,” was all you could muster as you mumbled into his chest.

“Let’s go home.”

next chapter

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #avengers fanfiction #ABITRV

[remsmoonlight]

— title : help me

— word count : 2.1 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : you’re not the only one who can feel yourself falling apart, but other things come to light in the mean time

— warnings : brief mentions of death, minor swearing, lack of self care

Had it not been for the fact that you know the world has ended, you could almost find yourself beginning to allow for a sense of tranquility to alleviate the constant threat of anxiety that creeps up on you almost daily. Normality was not a guarantee anymore, it was a rare prize that the group finds itself sometimes able to create even a jagged fragment of.. something you find yourself gripping onto with an unyielding strength, as if you could force it into reality.

The appealing picture is punctured as you spot some movement out of your peripheral vision, your gun is raised in the direction, an inaudible laugh is released as you try to find humour in your paranoia. Even protected by steel fences and concrete walls, you can’t find yourself believing that this prison is now your home, your sanctuary that protects you from the horrors from the outside that constantly threaten to overwhelm the grimy paradise your family had built.

Nothing out of the ordinary has occurred the entire time since you had been awoken to take watch, just a few stray walkers and animals, nothing that would warrant a bullet in them to draw every other living thing for miles to the prison. You find the cool mist that blankets the green fields welcome, something to keep you grounded before your mind wanders off to all that has been brutally torn from your soul, piece by agonising piece. The fog acts as miniscule needles, poking and prodding against your reddened cheeks.

A rustle pulls your attention to the small room of the tower, Daryl had been one to volunteer to take watch with you that night. Something about him conjured the most perplexing yet fond feelings of affection rooted within the centre of you, sometimes you think that there may be something yet sometimes you are sure he was sending signals that there is nothing. Ghost of minor grazes against your skin that had been seared into place, yet were so easily covered as if they had never existed.

Daryl Dixon is one confusing man.

“ no one taking over yet? “

You shake your head at Daryl, a few strands of hair are horridly disloyal to their place and tumble in front of your vision, that is hurriedly rectified as it throws you off balance. Sometimes you had no idea how to behave in front of him, it’s something you wish to confront as you know you cannot continue this way.. especially as tomorrow is never and has never been a guarantee, clearing the air is the only answer.

“ um, not yet. it’s still early though. “ you reply, a latent tremblant that almost completely breaks into your tone, the anxiety you had when you dedicate thoughts to your family going out tries to haunt you like a spirit would. You have already lost so much from the simple things.

“ they better move their asses soon. “

Of course, you have been relieved from watch duty and before you have even thought about breakfast you’re already hauling your heavy limbs to your cell.

Your eyes scan the room to find what you need, a backpack that is shrouded by the intense gloom and darkness that dominates the cramped room filled to the brim with an infinite amount of blemishes from top to bottom. You know that many happy memories do not occupy the room, let alone the building.. but it’s something you intend on changing. You move swiftly to pack it with all the supplies, your mind conjuring scenarios from nothing and every single one more horrifying than the other.. the drive to protect your heart from any more loss is the central force moving you to fill its empty space.

“ the hell you doin’ there? “

The abruptness of the voice sends your pulse skipping, not expecting anyone to bother you so soon.

“ I can’t sit here while they go out there. “ you don’t turn to look at Daryl, you already know the expression that is dyed so densely as he watches your crouched form. “ i tried, but i have to go.. i have to make sure they’re okay. “

“ you don’t trust ‘em? “ asks Daryl, he’d noticed your strange behaviour, he’d not said anything to anyone but the concern he feels is beginning to take on a life of its own. Knowing he would have to share with Rick if you become worse, it’s not something that he wants to do but if it brings some peace to your troubled mind he would.

“ no -- it’s not that! I just.. “

Daryl emits a scoff, he doesn’t mean to be so cold with his demeanour, but divulging anger and rage when he cares is all he knows. His upbringing created a perfect fusion of uncertainty, fear and suffering. One that blends into such a perfect mixture that any time he has to confront an intense situation, all that is expressed is a fire that burns anyone in its path. It’s taken time to be able express himself in healthier ways, but sometimes he finds himself fleeing to the same old habits.

“ what? ‘cause you’re gonna keep on going out there and it’s gonna get ‘ya killed! “

“ you don’t get it. “

Daryl barges his way through the empty doorway, before you even realise it the backpack that had been held firmly in your hand now lingers at your side, an emptiness that your grasp finds itself itching to rip back to its former place. You have your mind set in stone that you need to protect them, you can’t lose another person, the last time you had missed one.. it didn’t turn out so well, and you lost a friend. It was a pain that had your heart feeling as if it was being compressed under an unbearable weight, it’s a childish whim that refuses to back down. The urge to protect clouds everything you see, knowing that if you are there, then you have done everything in your power to ensure that life keeps on going, even if it limps pathetically along.

“ y’think I’m some sorta dumbass? that it? “

“ no! I just -- “ you can feel your entire being beginning to heat up from the pent up fear and frustration that have been building block upon block that is so close to tumbling down in a chaotic fashion. Your fingers move up to clench strands of your hair in exasperation, the phantom pain from your grip enough to prevent yourself from spilling over.

“ y’just what? huh? “ Daryl moves closer towards you, you can see that he wants to say more, to do more.. his eyes speak volumes, they say much more than his mouth does.

The aches that Daryl can feel within him never fade, they never dull, not when he can see what has been occupying your mind is causing a dramatic shift in you. He doesn’t know how to approach the subject, tender conversations have never been his forte.. and the fact that it’s.. well, you. He can’t pinpoint when he began to notice you more and more, but the thought of harm befalling you is something that sends ice through his veins. He doesn’t want to be in a world where he would never see you every day.

“ if I was there.. then maybe, I don’t know. I could have done something. “

Silence is thick, as thick as the dust that still continues to haunt the floors of the cells, no matter how much they are cleaned and wiped away. You can’t wipe away the horrors as easily as dirt.

You turn to face him, you slowly lift yourself as an unwavering tenseness lines every inch of your limbs. It sounded silly now that you have admitted it to another human being, but it is still real and it’s still how you feel.

“ what? y’think you can take on a horde of walkers? it was a suicide mission and they knew it. “

“ how can you be so careless? “ you ask him, a horrified expression staining your expression.

“ I’m seein’ you go down the same road, I ain’t gonna be part of that. you keep goin’ like this, it’s gonna kill ‘ya. “

The words run circles in your mind, a marathon that feels as if it will have no end. It explains his behaviour towards you, the warmth you receive one moment and the sudden shift to a numbing chill that felt as if you were no more than strangers. You hate that to be able to get information from him, you have to be arguing, it’s not something that can be allowed to continue.

“ tell me why. “ a demand comes from you, your voice sounding the most steady and enduring since the argument began. You sigh, feeling defeated. You hate the bubbling concoction of negative emotions that are brewing more and more from the exchange.

“ ain’t hard to figure out. “ Daryl has directed his attention to the floor, unable to meet your sight. He doesn’t want to see what is written on your face, his mind bolting to the worst possible explanation as it always does.

Moving towards what could only be described as a pitiful form of a bed, you drop yourself roughly onto the raggedy mattress and pat the space next to you. Your eyes follow him as he contemplates his next movement, if he decides to move toward you to forgo it all and pretend as if what you had just spoken about had not existed.

Luckily for you, he situates himself on the far side, his hands only slightly fidgeting as he waits for you to speak. It has to be you.

“ Daryl, why don’t you want me to go? “

“ I can’t see ‘ya get killed, just can’t. “

Before you even can truly comprehend what it is you’re doing, you inch a pinky finger towards the hand that lays resting dormantly at his side and allow it to curl into one of his own. The tenderness of the moment is not missed by either of you, both of you not knowing how to proceed. Daryl wasn’t used to being shown such softness in this context, he wants to hate it.. To squeeze the life from the feelings that it evokes, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to.

“ Daryl.. is there something there, or am I imagining it? “

“ y’aint goin’ crazy. “ he acknowledges, providing the spark that alights a bright burning hope within you.

“ is this why you don’t want me on the run? “ you inquire as a grimace comes flooding onto your face, your knees jumping as you struggle to contain your energy.

“ shit -- you look like you’re about to drop everytime I see ‘ya. “

As you battle yourself to contain the upturning of your lips, you shuffle closer to him. You felt the exhaustion every day threatening your entire being, you truly had no idea how you have not yet succumbed to it. Days at the prison are never easy, there’s always something to do and that work is nothing less than formidable and punishing on the human body.

He cares about me, you think to yourself timidly.

You take care in slowly leaning your chin on his shoulder and bringing a hand to rest on his back. Waiting for a signal to do otherwise, a rejection.. but it doesn’t come. It’s allowed, something you joyfully see as progress. You allow yourself to take in the comfort from the simple gesture, sorely missing having even the simple solaces that bring a much needed warming glow in the pit of your stomach. It hurts that he doesn’t even know how important he is to everyone, but more so to you.

“ Daryl, this isn’t something I can just kick. It’s not that easy. “

“ not somethin’ I’m asking. you need t’take care of y’self. “

Before your mind even registers it, you can feel a small weight on your free hand that lays dormantly on your hand. His thumb is drawn back and forth on yours, the patterns bringing a sense of soothing to you that had not blessed you in what felt like an eternity.

“ well.. maybe you can help me? “

There’s a hesitancy that the two of you can recognise, you wish with your whole soul that you could be stronger in asking. You’ve tried and tried to rid the negativity from within you, but every time you think you have, it comes back stronger than ever. More and more resistant than it was previously, its claws drawing more blood from you as it secures its hold in a much more impressive manner.

“ ain’t even gotta ask. “

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead imagine